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homerforsure · 3 years

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Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing.

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna.

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day.

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest.

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse.

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need.

And that shout is heard.

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties.

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.”

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound.

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone.

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night.

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different.

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak.

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing.

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?”

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared.

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest.

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad.

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair.

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow. A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day.

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay.

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep.

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm.

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him.

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall.

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again.

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.”

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car.

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck.

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car.

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes.

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to.

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs.

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him.

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape.

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live.

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground.

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.”

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen.

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks.

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost.

“No,” he answers.

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs.

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom.

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open.

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight.

It’s Eddie.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.”

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.”

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck.

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time.

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.”

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone.

And then Buck wakes up.

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uwuwriting · 4 years

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Incompatible ships w/ Todoroki, Kirishima, Bakugou and Midoiya

Request: hii! i love ur posts so i thought why not request ajbakaha,, can i ask for todoroki, kirishima, bakugou, izuku getting jealous bc their s/o is getting shipped with another student :D (it can be their relationship is still a secret or smth) btw i love your posts!! it's free serotonin!! 😽😽- anonymous

Secret relationships are my favorite trope. This and friends to lovers. I live for these types of fics. Random fact, my allergies are acting up bc I helped take down the Christmas decorations and now my hands are on fire. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff, minor suggestive themes not something major though

Todoroki Shouto

-Things like jealousy are a rare occurrence in your relationship.

-Todoroki is the type of boyfriend who trusts you blindly and would put his own life in your hands without a single hesitation.

-Sometimes it bothers him how other people effortlessly flirt with you but he knows that nothing will come out of it no matter how much they chat you up.

-He knows you can handle yourself and get out of a situation if things start getting out of hand.

-And if you can’t, he will butt in glaring down at the person who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

-Everyone around you seem to believe that the two of you are really close friends; none of them have caught a whiff of your relationship and you are proud of yourselves.

-I mean it is pretty hard keeping so many romantic milestones hidden from your friends.

-But alas you both knew that keeping all of this to yourselves would be for the best.

-Now, we all know that the girls of your class drool over any remotely romantic interaction you have.

-Same goes for everyone actually.

-Oh Kirishima held the door open for you the other day?? I can see a new ship sailing.

-Sero helped you pick up your stuff when you bumped into a wall? Your knight in shining armor.

-Really any sort of kind gesture was interpreted as romantic interest at this point.

-The worst part of it all was the ship they had created and have been simping over for the past three months.

-You had managed to create an unexpected friendship with Monoma from class 3-B.

-The agency he interns in is right next to yours so you take the same train and then walk to almost the same building every single day.

-You see him during patrol, the pro heroes you work under have paired up once or twice so a friendship was inevitable.

-So imagine the surprise on your classmate’s faces when Monoma began waiting for you outside the 3-A dorm building.

-Mina wouldn’t shut up about how cute you two were together and what a perfect match you made.

-Soon enough the other idiots joined the party and you were drowned in ‘awwww’s and ‘love story in the making’s.

-You got tired of explaining that he was just a friend, that you weren’t interested in him.

-The fact that you could feel Todoroki’s gaze burn through your back didn’t help at all.

-Your boyfriend had asked you about Monoma because he too found it weird how he waited for you everyday.

-The boy’s presence didn’t bother him at first.

-He was lowkey grateful that you finally had company on your way to the agency considering he couldn’t walk with you since his building was in the opposite direction.

-It started becoming a problem when all he could hear during the breaks was the stupid ship name the girls had created.

-He could see how visibly uncomfortable it made you and how you would seek for his gaze during those moments.

-Then they started talking about how cute your kids would be and that’s when Shoto had enough.

-It’s one thing hearing about how cute your girlfriend would be with someone else and it’s completely different when you hear about their potential offspring.

-Grabbing your wrist he basically dragged you out the classroom and into an empty hallway, pinning you to the nearest wall before connecting his lips with yours.

-You let a surprised gasp which gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss, making you grasp onto his shirt as your knees gave out.

-After what felt like an eternity he let you go for air before attacking your jaw, neck and collarbones.

-Soon those soft kisses turned into little love bites.

- “Sho you’re gonna leave a mark.”

-Releasing your skin from between his teeth, he admired the reddish hickey he had left at the base of your neck.

-He was sure your shirt’s collar could cover it up just barely.

- “That’s the point, love.”

-Intertwining your fingers, he led you back to class, going to his seat with a proud smirk on his lips leaving a very flustered puffy-lips-messy-haired you in his wake.

Kirishima Eijiro

-Kiribaby is not the jealous type.

-Like only if you give your undivided attention to a puppy and you smother it with all your love and affection then maybe, just maybe, he will pout a bit and ask for his own fair share of love.

-He trusts you just like Todoroki does.

-Nothing has ever happened to suggest that he should worry about others stealing you from him so he doesn’t worry.

-Plus you are always together no matter what.

-Almost everyone from your class knows that you are together so the shipping doesn’t start from them.

-Oh no.

-It starts from class 3-B who has seen you talk to Tetsutetsu quite a bit this past few weeks.

-You might wait for him outside their classroom during lunch breaks.

-They have caught you hanging out outside of the school grounds.

-So the only logical explanation they can come up with is that you two are either A) dating or B) have a thing for each other and are getting there.

-Soon enough rumors start circulating.

- “Did you know that someone from the hero course is dating that metal guy from class 3-B?”

- “Yeah yeah I heard it’s that girl Y/N. They do look really cute together, not gonna lie.”

-Eventually these rumors reach Kiri’s ears and they kinda get to him.

-He knows that you haven’t been hanging out extra with Tetsutetsu since every time you guys go out he is always with you.

-You are the type of couple who does everything together, literally.

-Apart from being in different agencies ya’ll are holding hands almost 24/7.

-So he really doesn’t get what everyone is talking about.

-Mineta doesn’t help.

-He really doesn’t.

-He starts making scenarios about what you do while Kirishima is out of the dorms; how you have wrapped both homies around your finger and toying with them.

-Oh the very vivid scenes he creates with all three of you in a…. compromising position.

-Kirishima hates that most of all.

-The words coming out of Mineta’s mouth disgust him to no end and soon enough he is walking to your dorm ready to talk this through.

-Opening the door you greet your boyfriend with a smile and a quick peck but you immediately know what is on his mind.

- “Baby what are we gonna do?”

-You basically whine at the question.

-He spends the whole night at your dorm brainstorming ideas until you both pass out on your floor.

-And your solution to the problem?

-Ignore the whole thing and continue on with your lives.

-He suggested maybe leaving a mark somewhere *like our boy Sho* but you shot him down saying that they would just think Tetsutetsu did it.

-After Monoma catches you in your classroom making out on your desk though the rumors soon die out.

Bakugou Katsuki

-Crazy boom boom boy.

-Your relationship is a secret because he doesn’t want to deal with all the other idiots gushing over your relationship and getting all up in your business.

-Your relationship is a sacred thing he has sworn to protect and he won’t let Mineta’s ugly ass hands get anywhere near it.

-Gonna taint it even with his thoughts.

-Guard dog Bakugou bark bark.

-It’s fairly easy to maintain a secret relationship with him.

-Sure he might be a tiny bit calmer with you and maybe just maybe his eyes linger on you during training but yeah he treats you just like he treats all the other extras he is surrounded by.

-Now, Bakugou is kinda *read a lot* jealous in general.

-He doesn’t like when people he doesn’t fully trust or like, talk to you or are close to you.

-He has butted in on your conversations with Todoroki one too many times and the poor crispy baby is so confused like why are you like this?

-I just want the chemistry notes please let me get them in peace for once.

-You have chastised him about that manier times but your resolve melts when he pouts *YES HE POUTS AT YOU RWIHPWIE* before wrapping his strong arms around you.

- “I just don’t wanna lose you, dumbass.”

-You can barely make out his words as his face is buried in your stomach but you heard him and now you are tearing up at the pure emotion he is showing at these moments.

-At the end of the day though, he trusts you.

-He may not trust the other horny extras around you but he fully trusts you.

-There’s no doubt about that.

-You can imagine ,though, the instant rage he felt when he heard the girls talking about you and Deku.

- “They do make a great couple.”

- “Have you seen how they look at each other?”

- “Good for her, Deku is perfect boyfriend material.”

-First of all, how dare you, second hold the fuck up…..when did this become a WhoRe hOuSe?!?!?!?!

-Legit someone has to shake him out of his stupor after that one.

-You look at Deku in a certain way?

-Fucking DEKU?!?!?!

-THoughts are swirling in his mind almost pouring out of his ears when he hears the voice.

-That annoying ass voice that he has engraved in his brain since childhood.

-And the moment his eyes land upon Deku and you speaking, he sees red.

-He is pouncing on Deku in -5 seconds, the poor green haired boy completely unaware of what hit him, literally.

-They are on the floor wrestling on another, you screaming at Katsuki to stop and get his shit together while your boyfriend is spewing curse after curse at the OFA user simultaneously asking what the hell he was doing with HIS girlfriend.

-Aizawa had to break them up.

-They both got detention even though Deku did literally nothing.

-Katsuki was denied cuddles for a whole week and he was set on explaining duty now that the cat was out of the bag.

Midoriya Izuku

-Izuku is the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

-He is loyal, shows emotions, is good at communicating with you, has incredible date ideas although he is kinda forgetful at times and his packed schedule doesn’t leave enough time to spend with you, at least not as much as he wants, but he always tries to make up for it in other ways.

-You love how much trust he puts in you.

-You couldn’t be more grateful.

-But Izuku has his insecurities.

-At times it becomes hard for him to understand why exactly you’ve chosen him to love when you could have anyone you wanted in this school.

-He can’t wrap his pretty little head around the reason why you stay with him when the only thing you get out of all this is others saying you deserve better than some crybaby.

-It has become his mission to prove to you that he isn’t what others say he is; he isn’t some crybaby, he is a hero in training who won’t hesitate to risk his life for you.

-You have reassured him multiple times that you don’t care what others say.

-You fell in love with him, him and all of his flaws.

-No one told you that you should fall for him and no you didn’t agree to date him out of pity.

-Most of the time you manage to erase those thoughts from his mind replacing them with the warm feeling of your love.

-But there comes a time when no matter what you say, the words of other people will get the best of him and it will be a struggle to build himself back up.

-He is thankful to have you by his side during those moments because then he truly feels weak, he feels helpless, he knows these things shouldn’t bother him.

-He loves you and you love him end of story, but they do get to him.

-One of the worst times he questioned if he was good enough was during your third year.

-Being in the support department you couldn’t be by his side 24/7 but you did always manage to see him during breaks to the point the whole class knew you and slowly became your friends.

-The thing is they thought you two were also friends; neither had ever mentioned your relationship and things felt so comfortable between you that they assumed that you were really close friends.

-Izuku had suggested keeping your relationship on the down low; him being in the hero course and having created rather the reputation, he was afraid that you would be dragged into something dangerous.

-Plus All Might advised you two to keep it a secret and All Might’s words are law.

-Izuku loved how well you got along with his friends, it meant that when he revealed your relationship they would all welcome you with open arms.

-What he didn’t expect though was for them to start shipping you with someone else.

-For some weird reason the girls of his class started obsessing over your interactions with Bakugou and soon after that they started trying to get you two alone in the same room, much to your dismay.

-In reality, Bakugou was the only person who knew about your relationship.

-He had ran into you as you were leaving Izuku’s dorm room, catching you two kiss goodnight.

-Bakugou, as much as he disliked Izuku, would never get in the way of your relationship and he hated this ship shit as much maybe even more than you did.

-Izuku was ready to crawl into a whole and die.

-You had to stay in his room for almost a whole month to calm him down completely, him flying you to your own building in the morning so you don’t get in trouble.

-It was a difficult time aand his classmate’s comments didn’t help one bit.

-The tipping point was when he overheard Mina devising a plan of setting you guys up.

-He walked down to the common room the next day with you next to him, hands intertwined, a hickey barely visible under the hem of HIS shirt, shocking everyone in the vicinity.

-A new ship was created *after they harassed you for answers*

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @wolfkid22 @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura @belladonna-coven @akita-l-lynn @angel6786 @meena-in-a-nutshell

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moonlit-jeno · 4 years

Text

fifth time’s the charm? (m.)

pairing: johnny suh x female reader

genre/warnings: explicit sexual content | mentions of recreational drinking/ drugs (weed) | fluff | jaehyun being, well, jaehyun

words: 5.2k

summary: sometimes the universe aligns for you. and sometimes, it really doesn’t

1. There’s a delicious warmth between your thighs, growing with every slow grind of the guy’s hips. You don’t know his name and there’s no chance to ask, not with the way your lips are practically glued together, his tongue doing wonderful things as he licks at the seam of your mouth. He nips at your bottom lip at the same time his hand slides up your thigh, stooping just short of the hem of your dress, and you jolt, whining loudly.

He’s got a cocky smirk on his face when he pulls back to catch his breath, lips swollen and eyes dark. You stubbornly try to pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding your hips up more desperately. The two of you are as close together as the kitchen counter allows you to get. The muscles in his back flex under your fingertips and you’re so turned on that you think you could cry.

You’re just about to ask his name but then his lips are on your neck, leaving a trail of marks down the delicate skin. His hand squeezes at the meat of your thigh and you moan, tossing your head back and smacking it against the cabinet. A soft curse leaves you but the pain doesn’t really register, not when you’re being touched like that. His fingertips are so, so close to your core but he doesn’t dare move there yet. That spot is reserved by his dick, the impressive hardness dragging deliciously against your core.

There’s a commotion next to you and you turn your head to look, immediately regretting it. A guy from one of your classes- Jaehyun, you think- is emptying his stomach contents all over the floor. Your nose wrinkles and you rapidly tap your hookup’s shoulder, trying to get him to pull away. He does, a little confused, but then he follows your gaze just in time to watch Jaehyun throw up again, this time on the opposite side of the same counter you’re sitting on. Your arousal fizzles out and you groan, trying to ignore the wave of nausea that replaces the lust.

“Oh, for fucks sake Jae.” Your hookup groans, running his hand through his messy hair. He turns to you. “I gotta go take care of him, sorry.”

“Friend?” You ask as he lifts you off the counter.

“Best friend. And roommate. Which means I’m probably gonna hear him all night.” He sighs, glancing over to where Jaehyun’s got his face shoved under the faucet. “Thanks for this, though. It was fun.”

You smile, pulling him in for one last kiss. “Sorry we didn’t get to finish.”

He winks as he walks away, throwing a “next time, then.” over his shoulder. You watch as he rubs Jaehyun’s back soothingly, whispering something in his ear before picking him up. “Don’t fucking throw up on me.” Your hookup tells him, adding a “please,” as an afterthought. It makes you laugh.

It isn’t until you get home that you realize you never got his name.

2. You’re on the couch at yet another party when you see him again.

“I’m Johnny.” He offers you a joint and you take it gratefully, placing it between your lips. He even lights it for you. What a gentleman.

“Y/N,” You finally respond after taking a deep hit, watching all of the smoke leave your mouth and float overhead. “Nice to see you again.”

His eyes drift to your mouth when you take another hit and you let your head fall back to expose the column of your neck. “It is.” Johnny murmurs quietly, tongue wetting his lips.

It doesn’t take long before you end up on his lap, his hands grabbing desperately at your hips as you grind down, kissing him with the same ferocity as last time. The only difference now is that you’re high, you’re so, so high, and Johnny feels so good against you that you’re drowning in him.

Johnny pulls away to take another hit, tugging your mouth back to his so that he can pass the smoke between your lips. You accept it easily, loving how the burn in your chest matches the burn in your gut.

“Mhmm, if you feel this good now, I can’t imagine what it’s gonna feel like when I finally get to feel your pussy.” Johnny groans, bucking his hips up against your core. “Bet you’re so wet, so fucking tight.”

“Just for you.” You whisper in his ear, giggling at the deep groan he lets out in response. His hand makes its way under your skirt and you gasp, fully prepared to let him finger you on the couch in front of everyone.

His fingertips graze your core over the thin fabric of your panties and you whimper, swiveling your hips. Johnny’s a tease, just lightly petting your folds, not quite giving you what you want. You open your mouth to beg when a hand clamps down on your shoulder.

You jump when you realize it’s not Johnny’s hand, turning to find a very nervous looking Taeyong.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Uh, the house is currently on fire so we’re evacuating everyone.” He explains, trying valiantly to keep his eyes from wandering to where Johnny still has his hand under your skirt.

“Oh, fuck. Is everyone okay?” You ask, standing on shaky legs.

Taeyong nods. “Yeah, I think we’ve got it under control. But we don’t want to take any chances.”

Johnny nods. “Yeah, for sure man.”

Taeyong walks away after bidding the two of you a goodnight. You and Johnny look at each other, sighing deeply before he breaks into laughter.

“Damn, we are so unlucky.”

You groan, laughing despite yourself. “It’s unbelievable.”

3. The last time you’d seen Johnny wasn’t perfect, but at least you got his number.

Johnny texts you like you’ve known each other for years. He doesn’t bother with ice breakers- thank god, because you can’t stand small talk. It’s all memes and stories about how chaotic his day was and honestly? It’s refreshing.

Especially because he always takes the time to ask about your day, letting you rant and giving you support. He doesn’t leave you on read for hours at a time, either- you’re pretty sure the longest you’ve had to wait for a response was about an hour, and that was because he’d been in a class.

Surprisingly, there hasn’t been one suggestive message from either of you. You’d certainly been expecting it, considering the nature of how you met. But Johnny keeps everything family friendly, with the exception of a few dirty jokes and curses.

The most suggestive text he’d sent was a “hey, wanna come over and watch a movie?” But even then, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to lead to sex. You can certainly hope, but it isn’t determined.

Of course, you still shower and throw on your sexiest lingerie. Hell, you even lotion your legs.

Which you’re very thankful for as of right now, because Johnny’s got one hand up your dress and the other cupping your breast. He’s half on top of you, his lips pillowy and insistent against yours. You moan and pull him closer, tugging at his soft hair.

The movie is still playing from his laptop and you lean up to close it, reaching to set it on the floor. You’d hate for it to fall off the bed and break later on.

“I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to fuck.” Johnny huffs a laugh, pulling away to catch his breath. You giggle, tugging at his shirt to get it off.

“Hey, we haven’t fucked yet.” You remind him, sliding your hands up his toned stomach, feeling the firm muscles. He flexes and you slap his chest lightly.

Johnny leans back down to connect your lips, finally moving your panties to the side to run his finger along your drenched entrance. “Well lucky for you, I have a solution for that.”

The door creaks open before the first finger can even slide in. “Johnny! Taeyong baked us a shit ton of cookies, you want some?” You and Johnny jump apart at the speed of light, your hand flying to smooth down your dress while Johnny pats down his hair. The impact of your back hitting the headboard has you grimacing and you distract yourself by focusing all of your energy on glaring at the intruder.

Fucking Jeong Jaehyun. This is the second time he’s interrupted you, although if you take into account that it was probably him that caused the fire, it’s the third. You’re fully prepared to kill him, though you suppose you’ll spare him if he gets the fuck out of Johnny’s room.

He doesn’t.

The idiot’s looking down at his phone, so he doesn’t even notice what position you and Johnny had been in, and he somehow doesn’t even notice how both of you are panting and sitting in unnaturally stiff positions. Finally, he looks up from the device. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to notice that Johnny’s shirt is off and that he has multiple hickies scattered across his skin, but he doesn’t! Jaehyun smiles and lifts the tin of cookies.

“I’m okay.” Johnny says shortly. He’s holding a pillow over his lap and he looks absolutely murderous.

“Suit yourself.” Jaehyun shrugs, wandering further into the room. “Were you watching a movie?” Doesn’t this kid know how hookups work? He had to have seen the two of you together at one of the last parties, has to know that there’s a reason you both have swollen lips and messy hair.

“Yeah. Inception.” Johnny responds, clearly hoping that the complicated nature of the film will have Jaehyun sprinting away.

“Oh, I love that movie!” Jaehyun drops the cookies onto your lap and clambers in between you and Johnny, excitedly opening the laptop. “Oh cool, you’re only fifteen minutes in!” He presses play.

Johnny groans. You shove a cookie into your mouth.

4. To say that you’re sexually frustrated is an understatement.

You like Johnny, you really do. Spending time with him is fun. Texting him is fun. He’s a good person overall, and you want to get to know him better. Another thing you desperately want? His cock.

Every time you try to hook up, you get rudely interrupted. Maybe it’s a sign that you should actually start a committed relationship. Maybe it’s a sign that you and Johnny aren’t meant to be. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe hates you.

It’s late, way too late to text him to come over, but you’re horny and annoyed and your imagination just isn’t doing it for you. Your attempts at fingering yourself are fruitless, and even though you’re so turned on that you think you could explode, you just can’t get wet. It must be a curse. Probably Jaehyun’s fault, you grumble, though there’s absolutely no way it could be his fault considering he isn’t here.

Your fantasies keep failing you and despite you having clear ideas of what you want Johnny to do to you, it’s not enough. After a full minute of consideration, you grab your phone.

[Me] 11:43pm

You up?

[Johnny] 11:45pm

Of course I am

It’s not even midnight yet

What’s up?

[Me] 11:46pm

Bored

Thinking about you

[Johnny] 11:46pm

Oh so I’m boring now

The little quip has you huffing a laugh, smiling down at your phone. You bite your lip and roll onto your stomach, propped up on your elbows.

[Me] 11:46pm

Hmm

I mean I guess I could change my mind if you prove me wrong

[Johnny] 11:48pm

You only think I’m boring bc I haven’t had the chance to show you how much fun I am

I might even be too much fun for you

[Me] 11:48pm

Prove it

It’s not surprising that your phone starts ringing, the stupid selfie Johnny had taken last time you hung out popping up on your screen. Your stomach jolts in anticipation, teeth finding your lower lip as you answer it.

“Hello?” You roll back over, shoving your pillow under your head. Your free hand rests on your stomach, drawing shapes into your skin.

“Hey baby,” Johnny’s voice is a low purr over the phone and just the sound of it has your stomach flipping, the pet name drawing a soft whimper from you. “It’s awful late for you to be thinking of me. Mind sharing what’s on your mind?” You consider it, sinking further into your mattress and drawing your knees up a little. “Mhmm, I dunno. I’d rather you share what’s on your mind.” That draws a soft laugh from him. “Oh, nothing much. Was just debating if you’d rather come three times on my cock or three times on my tongue.” The bluntness of his words has you sucking in air through your teeth, though your chest is so tight that you doubt you got any oxygen. “Oh.” Your voice is small and you may have been the one to initiate it, but you have no idea how to continue it. “Oh, fuck.” “Yeah?” Johnny laughs lowly on the other line. “Well, which one is it?” “Both.” You try to sound confident but you’re a mess, hand trembling with how hard you grip the phone.

“Greedy girl.” Johnny clicks his tongue, and you can almost see him shaking his head. “How are you going to earn it?” Your mind is blank, nothing but warm arousal shooting through you. “I-” You try to start, finding yourself unable to finish the sentence. The words are too filthy to be spoken out loud.

“Would you suck my cock baby? You’d probably like that, hmm? I know I would.” Johnny’s voice sounds breathless, and you can vaguely hear the slick sounds of him jerking off. “Would look so pretty with your mouth full. Do you want that?” “Yes.” You manage to gasp out, letting your hand find its way between your thighs. Two fingers dip into your core before moving up to trace quick circles into your clit.“Wanna be stuffed full.” A deep groan leaves him. “Fuck, I’d stuff you so full, baby. Do you think you can take my cock?”

“Mhmm, yeah, I can take it.” You moan, finally starting to pleasure yourself the way you want to. Fingers fucking into your core quickly, palm hitting against your clit. “Oh god Johnny, I’m so fucking wet.” “You sound so good princess. Makes me want to-” His voice cuts off and you hum, urging him to continue. He doesn’t.

“Johnny?” You ask, frowning at his silence. A sigh leaves you when he still doesn’t respond and you draw your hand out of your panties to pick up your phone. Your confusion turns to annoyance when you're met with a black screen and a spinning circle. “God fucking damnit!” You scramble for your phone charger but it’s too late, the dead battery symbol popping up when you try to turn it back on.

You flop onto your bed and scream.

5. It’s been a long time since you’ve had sex, and it’s all you can think about.

Now look, you’re not unreasonably horny. You think about sex the normal amount, and it never actually interferes with your life, but there’s something about Johnny that’s just fucking you up. He’s nice and considerate and makes you laugh so hard that tears stream down your face, and you catch yourself smiling at him fondly even when he’s not doing anything besides frowning at his laptop. Everytime your phone lights up with a notification, you dive for it to check if Johnny had texted you. You’re not in love, but he’s got you wrapped so tightly around his finger that it almost hurts.

It doesn’t help that he’s fucking hot. He’s tall and strong and sexy, and carries himself with so much confidence that you find yourself swooning. You’ve gotten just the slightest taste of what he’s like in bed, but you want the full experience. The whole legs going numb, eyes rolling back, head empty experience. Preferable without any cockblocking roommates.

So no, you don’t think that you think about sex too much. Even if you do end up paying Jaehyun twenty dollars to go see a movie and get dinner so that you and Johnny will finally have the apartment to yourselves. Honestly, you think that locking him in the abandoned storage room would have been more efficient, but this is definitely the more legal option.

Johnny doesn’t look surprised to see you when you knock on his door, letting you in with a smile on his face. He dips down for a kiss and pushes your jacket off of your shoulders, hanging it over the back of a chair.

“My baby.” He whines, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight to his chest. “I missed you!”

You giggle and melt into his embrace. “Let’s make up for lost time, then.” “Did you have something in mind?” Johnny pulls away a little to look you in the eye, an amused smile on his face. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and you press into the touch like a cat. His smile widens. “You know, Jaehyun’s not here tonight. We have the whole place to ourselves.”

You act like this is new information. “Oh, well then it looks like we’ll have to make the most of it.”

Johnny hums. “Wanna watch a movie? I’ve got some popcorn waiting to be popped and some wine just begging to be drunk.”

“We could do that.” You humour him, smiling and pulling away when he leans in for a kiss. He pouts and you giggle, pressing your lips to his cheek before moving closer to his ear. “Or you could fuck me.”

Johnny stiffens for a moment and you swear he stops breathing, but then a deep groan rumbles in his chest. “Fuck baby, you can’t just say that.” You giggle and pull back to look up at him with innocent eyes. “I can’t? Why, do you not want to fuck me?” It’s meant to be rhetorical, because you know just how badly he wants you. He’s made it plenty clear. You turn to walk away and Johnny grabs you by your shoulders, anchoring you to him, your back to his chest. He brings his lips to your ear and leaves a lingering kiss on the skin just under your lobe, pressing his hips to your ass. There’s already a sizable bulge there and your stomach flips, mouth suddenly dry.

“Does it feel like I don’t want to fuck you?” Johnny asks, rolling his hips into you. “I want to fuck you so badly that it hurts, baby. Do you know what I imagine doing to you?”

His breathing gets a little heavier when you grind back on him. “Mhmm, no. Why don’t you show me?” Johnny effortlessly spins you around and picks you up, the squeal you let out muffled by his lips. He laughs softly and the corners of your mouth twitch up. “What?” You whine, pouting at him. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not.” He doesn’t sound convincing at all. “I’m not! You’re just too damn cute.” The pout on your face is kissed away by his insistent lips and he closes the door to his room with his foot, setting you down on the edge of his bed.

There’s still a teasing smile on his lips but his eyes are dark. You swallow thickly as he drops to his knees in front of you, the heat of his palms on your bare thighs nearly too much for you. “Will my cute baby let me show her what I’ve been imagining?”

His words have your breath hitching and your head feeling fuzzy but you manage to find the energy to nod, a shaky “yes,” passing through your lips. Johnny moves his hands higher up your thighs, thumbs playing with the waistband of your shorts. Your stomach jolts when his thumb brushes over the bare skin just under your belly button.

“I’m gonna eat you out.” There’s no hesitation in the way he speaks, his gaze determined. Your core clenches at the thought of having his mouth on you, his pretty lips and tongue working to please you. “Help me take these off?” You stand up just long enough for Johnny to tug your shorts and panties down your legs, kicking them off so that they land somewhere far away from you. And then Johnny’s pushing you back down onto the bed, palms on your thighs to push your legs apart, and you nearly scream with the anticipation. You’ve waited so long for him that you feel like you might die if he doesn’t touch you right this second.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” Johnny groans, staring at your pussy like he’s in awe. He parts your folds with his fingers, tongue coming out to moisten his lips. “You’re so pretty.” He kisses your inner thigh and hooks your legs over his shoulders, dipping down to press a kiss to your clit. You inhale sharply, and Johnny looks up at you with nothing but lust in his eyes as he begins to eat you out eagerly.

You have to throw your head back when he drags his tongue up your entrance, dipping the muscle inside just slightly before moving up to suck at your clit. It’s too much too fast and you feel like you’re falling, head spinning and feeling fuzzy with all the sensations he’s giving you. His hair is soft between your fingers when you reach down to grab a hold of it, trying to simultaneously pull him closer and push him away.

Johnny moans into your core and pulls away to smirk at you. The lower half of his face is covered in your arousal and his plump lips glisten. “Feel good, princess?” There’s a filthy noise as he spits onto your cunt, using his thumb to spread the saliva around. “Because you taste fucking divine.”

Breathless curses of his name leave you as your elbows finally give out, your body hitting the mattress only to arch right back off of it. Your hands fist in the sheets and your head rolls from side to side, your body not quite sure how to handle this much pleasure. “I’m gonna cum,” You whimper, pressing your heels into his back to draw him closer. “Johnny, keep- keep doing that, ‘m gonna cum.” It comes out as a plea, and another few cries of his name leave you before your orgasm washes over you, drowning you in the pleasure.

The fog finally clears from your mind and you pry your eyes open to find Johnny still kneeling in front of you, licking his lips clean of your release. “Feel good?” You scoot back a little to allow Johnny room to join you on the bed. “Amazing. Knew you had pretty lips for a reason.”

“Aww, you think my lips are pretty?” Johnny teases, making an exaggerated kissy face. You scoff and steal a slow kiss from him, slipping your tongue past his lips at the same time you slide your palm over his dick, feeling the shape of him through the confines of his pants. He moans and tries to pull away but you catch his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling gently.

“I think you’re pretty. I also think we should take care of this, hmm?” You squeeze him gently and his thigh jerks. Johnny laughs breathlessly and reaches down to untie his pants, pushing them down his thighs just enough to free his cock. You waste no time wrapping your hand around the thick length, stroking him slowly. And Johnny makes such a pretty sight, his eyelids fluttering closed and his mouth hanging open. You shuffle back a little further on the bed, moving to lower your mouth to his cock, but he stops you.

“Too impatient,” He pants out, stepping off the bed and throwing his shirt off, kicking his pants to his ankles. “Wanna fuck you.” “I think I’m okay with that.” Your core clenches painfully at the thought of being filled up, and some of your arousal leaks down your thighs. He laughs at your response and reaches for a condom, rolling it on while you rid yourself of your shirt.

You throw your bra at him in an effort to get him to move faster, but it has the opposite effect. He looks at your bra for a moment before moving his gaze to your breasts, swallowing thickly. Both of you groan, but for different reasons.

“Babe, you can look at my boobs while you fuck me.” You whine impatiently. Johnny nods, tongue licking across his bottom lip slowly, eyes still locked on your breasts. It takes him a moment to crawl over to your body, settling between your legs and drawing you into a deep kiss. His dick brushes against your thigh and you wrap your legs around his waist.

Johnny’s always been a tease but you didn’t think he’d be this bad, holding what you want right in front of you, just out of reach. He presses the tip of his cock to your pussy, drags it through your folds, bumps your clit, does essentially everything except for what you want him to do. “Ready?” “Yeah, please,” You sigh, trying and failing not to sound desperate. And yet he still doesn’t put it in. He bends down to place a kiss on each of your nipples, swirling his tongue around one of the buds before moving to the other one. It has you sighing out in pleasure, and his teeth graze the sensitive skin at the same time he finally slides in.

The way his cock stretches you out has your eyes rolling back, your walls clenching around him desperately to adjust. Johnny swears and buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, babe, you gotta- you gotta stop doing that.” “I can’t,” You arch against him, the action only pushing his cock deeper. “Johnny, you’re so big.”

“You’re just too small.” Johnny quips back, but it’s lacking the normal bite. This time it sounds strained, and your stomach flips at knowing he’s just as affected as you are. “Jesus Christ, how are you so fucking tight?” He finally bottoms out with a groan, grinding into you with a little half-thrust before moving to pull out again. “Guess I’ll have to change that.” Johnny fucks like he simultaneously has all the time in the world and like he has none at all. His thrusts go from hard and fast to slow and deep, the overall effect leaving you with your head spinning and your body burning with pleasure. Your nails dig into his back and you chant his name like it’s a prayer, and he responds by fucking you even harder, sucking bruises into the soft skin of your neck.

One of his hands grasps at the sheets near your head, the other resting on your breast. He gives it a loving squeeze before moving his hand up your arm to lace your fingers together, lifting his head up to find your lips. Both of you are panting heavily but Johnny kisses you like oxygen isn’t important, messily sucking at your bottom lip and meeting your tongue with his own. He lets out a deep groan and breaks away from you, dropping his face back to the crook of your neck. His grip on your hand tightens. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” “Mhmm, okay,” You squeeze his hand back. “Touch me?” He lets go of your hand to clumsily work his hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles into your clit. Your eyes roll and you arch against him, gasping out his name. Your orgasm is so close, you just need that extra push…

Johnny gets there before you can, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his groan. His hips stutter and his rhythm grows sloppy but he keeps desperately fucking into you, fingers still frantically rubbing at your clit. He presses a messy kiss to your shoulder, moves up to your ear. “Come on, baby. Wanna see you cum for me.”

It only takes a few more of his dirty words, a few more desperate thrusts, a few more presses of his thumb to your clit before you’re coming, legs locking around his waist and nails digging into his back. He swears at how your walls lock around him in a vice, his hips stuttering again as a hiccupy moan leaves him.

He all but collapses on top of you after, rolling to the side and panting heavily. You giggly breathlessly and curl up next to him, head on his chest. His entire body shivers when you press a kiss to his nipple, and he misses the shot when he tries to throw the condom into the trashcan.

“Did it live up to your imagination?” You finally catch your breath enough to ask.

Johnny shrugs. “I guess.” He cackles and catches your hands in his own when you slap his chest and make an indignant noise, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m kidding! But actually, it might’ve been even better. We might have to try this again soon, just to be sure.” “Right.” You drag the word out in one long syllable. “Is this your way of saying you wanna go for another round?” “That depends,” He says carefully. “Do you want another round?” You laugh and shake your head. “You’re insatiable.” The air is cold when you roll out of bed and help yourself to Johnny’s closet, slipping one of the sweatshirts that you’ll ‘forget’ to return later on over your head. “But yes. Later though, I’m starving.”

The popcorn Johnny had offered you earlier gets stuck in your throat when Jaehyun barges into the apartment, the door slamming open with way too much force. Johnny snickers and pats your back, moving your water closer.

“Hey man, you have fun?” Johnny asks, only half paying attention as he tries to make sure you don’t die. You manage to dislodge the kernel and give him a thumbs up.

“Yep, nothing better than a free movie!” Jaehyun states happily, chugging the red bull in hand before opening the fridge for another one.

Johnny furrows his eyebrows. “Free? How’d you get free tickets?”

Your eyes widen and you try to motion at Jaehyun not to say anything, but he’s as oblivious as ever. “Y/n bought them for me.”

“Oh, did she?” Johnny grins, the pieces clicking into place. He turns to look at you, grabbing your hands in his own when you try to bury your face in them. Jaehyun’s already wandered away and Johnny shakes his head in disbelief. “You had this planned, didn’t you?”

“It’s not my fault!” You whine, pouting at him. “Can you blame me for wanting to have sex with my hot boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I am pretty hot.” Johnny sighs, laughing with his entire body when you glare at him. He coos at you and pulls you into his chest. “But am I your boyfriend?”

Your face goes hot and there’s a moment of sheer panic before you shoot your shot. “...yes?”

“So that makes you my girlfriend, then.” His smile looks even brighter now. “Well girlfriend, it looks like we’re gonna be buying Jaehyun a lot more movie tickets now.”

You groan.

#johnny smut #johnny suh smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny x reader #kpop smut #johnny scenarios #kpop scenarios #nct scenarios

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Note

hey so i have a prompt request? feyre and rhys hooking up under the mountain, there's like not a lot of good fics for this so i was wondering if you'd write them please. maybe like hate sex and rhys CoN persona? thank you also you're writing is so great :)

I am very amused by how my mood affects my writing. When I was first sent this, I had just finished writing my starfall/ first kiss scene and the thought of my loves UTM was unbearable. Today I am angry at everyone and actually, kinky hate sex seems right up my alley... so cheers to us dear anon. Hold on tight.

Fuck You, Feyre Darling

I landed on the floor of my cell for what seemed like the thousandth time. My grazed palms caught the stone, and the rumble of the bars sliding closed vibrated in my bones. I pulled my knees into my chest, and just lay there, seeing nothing.

There were nights that I had spent crying, and nights that I had raged. Today, I was just tired.

That is not to say, of course, that the despair was no longer there. It was just that my body was spent, and I was now too exhausted to feel anything at all. In some ways, it was such a relief, that I wouldn't have to drown in those emotions. In other ways, the emptiness stretched out like a desert and it swallowed me more completely than my feelings ever had.

I didn't care.

I couldn't tell you how much time passed, but at some point I became aware of Rhysand sitting against the wall, just watching me silently. Somewhere far away, I wondered why he was here all the time. Why anyone would spend a second of their free time in a vile little cell with me. And then I stopped caring again.

"Well," he said, "it's quieter. But I don't think it's better."

I didn't know what he was talking about, but I didn't ask. Rhys explained anyway.

"I mean usually with you it's cry, cry, cry. My arm hurts, I miss Tamlin, the tasks are hard, blah, blah blah blah, blah. I have to say the silence is not an unpleasant change."

I glared at him, but couldn't quite muster the energy to say anything. He'd probably get bored and leave anyway.

"Of course, now I have no one to play with," Rhys went on. "I can't very well spar with myself, can I?" He eyed me for a minute, and I turned away again.

Rhys stood then, and wandered over to me. "Come on now, get up off the floor. You're not this pathetic." "I'm not pathetic," I said. "I'm just exhausted. Leave me alone." "No," was all Rhys said, and then he was picking me up under the arms and hauling me up. I had no strength to resist.

I swayed on my feet when Rhys finally had me standing.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked him, my tired voice tripping over the words. I folded my arms across my chest to keep them from dangling at my sides. "I came to see you, of course." Rhys said. "Why, am I interrupting something? Are you entertaining?" He looked around the cell theatrically. "Are you hiding Tamlin somewhere in here?"

I said nothing.

"Oh, that's right," Rhys continued. "He's not here, he's never here, because all he does is sit back and watch you get tortured." Something hot lit in his eyes.

"Hey," I said. "That's not fair. You know he's under Aramantha's thumb at the moment. She watches his every movement." "And what am I, a free bird?" Rhys argued, arms gesturing out wide. "And yet here I am. If you want something enough, you find a way. He's a fucking High Lord, what's he doing just sitting there?"

Anger flickered in my chest.

"Aramantha cut off his power," I said through gritted teeth. "Aramantha cut off everyone's power," Rhysand countered. "But I've been here, even Vanserra's been in. And where's your great love? If it were me, if I were the one who loved you, I'd be doing everything I could to help you. I'd spend every second trying to be near you. Aramantha be damned, I wouldn't care if she took my head off, at least I'd be trying to save you. Tamlin's a fool and a coward.”

Rhys started to turn away from me, but suddenly that small flicker blazed into a roaring fire. I slammed him back, far beyond caring that he was a high lord and my human girl arms were completely useless.

I must have caught him off guard, or maybe he just let me. Because he thudded back against the wall of the cell, eyes widening in surprise. Then, infuriatingly, a smile bloomed in the corners of his mouth.

I hated him. In that moment, I hated him more than I had hated anything or anyone in my short life.

“Hit a nerve did I, Feyre darling?” he asked. “I’m not your darling,” I snarled. “And you’re wrong.” “Oh I’m wrong am I? Then do bring out your lordly love, show me where indeed you’ve been keeping him this whole time.”

And Cauldron damn him, I couldn’t. Couldn’t prove him wrong. But the idea that Tamlin could be here if he really, truly tried, was so intolerable that I didn’t dare consider it. Rather than have to answer him, I threw my fists into his chest, and I was shocked by how good the impact felt.

Rhys only grinned wider.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” I demanded. Smug bastard. “You,” Rhys said. The picture of calmness. “Well I hate it,” I spat at him. “You look ugly when you grin.”

Rhys folded his arms. “Well now that’s just not true,” he said, and before I knew what I was doing I slapped him hard across the face. To see if I could wipe that stupid smirk off completely.

Indeed Rhys’ smile dropped, and cold satisfaction curled down my veins. But he didn’t move.

“Damn you, fight back,” I said. He didn’t move. His stillness infuriated me so much I just started pummelling him, my hands and elbows against his motionless torso. It was like fighting a mountain.

“Just... fight... back... you... fucking... prick,” I ground out between lashes. Rhys was a statue. “Fight back, do something,” I screamed, and to my deep frustration my voice cracked on the last word. A sob scraped up the inside of my throat, and finally, Rhys moved.

In between one strike and the next, Rhys grabbed a hold of my flailing wrists and strode four steps across the cell, pushing me back until I was shoved up against the opposite wall. His hands pinned mine to the bricks.

For a second, Rhys stared down at me with utter fury, and it both scared and thrilled me. And then the next second, I couldn’t quite tell who moved first but his lips were on mine and we were snarling at each other with tongues and teeth.

Anger now rolled off me like hot smoke, scorching my skin but heating my blood. I raked my nails down Rhys’ arms, as if I could shred his immaculate jacket. I tugged his shirt down, looking for bare skin, and clawed at his exposed collar bones, even as my neck strained to get closer. To kiss him deeper.

Rhys responded by moving a hand to my throat, pushing me back but not squeezing hard enough to cut off my airway. Just enough that I couldn’t push back. Just enough that I could feel the wall pressing into the back of my head, and when I resisted against him he was unmovable. Rhys stepped forward into me, and now there was cold brick all the way down my spine and the backs of my legs, and Rhysand’s warm body all the way down my front. I lifted a foot against the wall for leverage, but Rhys had me pinned, and slowly he wrested control from me.

The strangest thing was, the more he took over, the more relief I felt. My anger poured into him, and it didn’t feel like it was going to kill me anymore. So I moved the leg that was trying to push off the wall, and slid it up Rhys’ thigh instead. He didn’t hesitate, grabbed it and hitched it to his hip so he could grind his hips into me, and when I felt the hardness of him pressing into my lower abdomen, I gasped.

The movement broke the kiss, and Rhys pulled his face back only far enough to stare into my eyes. I read the questions that swam there, and couldn’t bear the answers.

So I just tilted my head back defiantly, and said, “Are you gonna fuck me or just stare at me some more?”

The world blurred, everything went dark and then we were in Rhys’ room.

I wobbled, took a step back to steady myself and my calves hit his bed. Rhys’ arms tightened around my waist, so I didn’t fall. He growled low in his throat, and put his teeth on my neck.

The pressure and slight pain grounded me, and before the awful, intolerable thoughts could form again, I went for his lips and he responded with a hunger than took my breath away. I kissed him back, and sighed my relief against his tongue.

Then the prick laughed.

I bit down hard on his lip, and was rewarded with a soft yelp. He landed a stinging slap across my backside, and as shudders rippled through me, my hands went for his belt. Whipped it out from its loops, only for Rhys to snatch it from my hands, fold it in half and press the leather to my mouth. I let him slide it between my teeth, and then his hands were gripping my hips and turning me sharply. Dragging me back to him, something hard now shoving against my ass as he palmed my breasts and a moan from somewhere in my stomach made its way past the belt in my bite.

Rhys’ left hand found my throat again. His right hand slid between my legs.

"Is this what you wanted, Feyre darling?” Rhys crooned. He took the belt from my teeth and looped it loosely around my neck. Like a collar. “Still not your darling,” I spat, and then his fingers slipped under the waistband of my pants and my knees buckled. “Want to bet?” Rhys hissed. “Because your soaking wet pussy says otherwise.”

Rhys moved his fingers all the way down and then back up the seam of me, and I couldn’t argue. Not when he started to circle my clit, and words died in my mouth. His hand tugged the belt a little tighter around my throat, and then he pushed two fingers into me and this time my moan was louder.

“That’s right, moan for me and show me exactly how you aren’t mine,” Rhys mocked. “Fuck you,” I gritted out, even as his fingers pumped inside of me and pleasure curled tight in my belly. “With pleasure,” Rhys responded, and next thing I knew I was being bent over the bed, my pants yanked down over my backside and my hips tilted up sharply. I braced for the first pressure against my entrance, but instead another slap sang out over my exposed ass. I gasped in shock, and barely had time to register the sensation before I was smacked again.

“You know, I’m starting to think you rather enjoy a little pain,” Rhys said. I could hear the bloody smirk in his voice. “Yes,” I retorted. “You are a little pain.” Another slap, and the pain burst across my eyes. Along with a searing pleasure that had me writhing on the bed seeking friction.

“Oh trust me darling, there’s nothing little about me,” Rhys said, and then suddenly he was pushing inside me and fuck if every cell in my body wasn’t clamouring for more.

“Gods, fuck Rhysand,” I said, my lips moving without thought. “Rhysand?” he asked. Drew out and then thrust slowly in again. “Only my prisoners and enemies call me that.” His voice strained, as he landed deeper this time. “Sounds about right to me, Rhysand,” I managed to shoot back, swallowing my moan. So good. He felt so good.

“Oh enemies, is it?” Rhys asked. He paused his movements, now seated right to the hilt. “Well, in that case.”

And then he threaded his fingers through the base of my ponytail and made a fist against my scalp, pulling my head back and fucking me hard while he had me by the hair.

The suddenness and roughness of the movement had me aching, and I could feel the bruises between my legs and where his fingertips now dug painfully into my hip. But the way my head emptied and spun was intoxicating, and I found myself arching my back to get him deeper, harder into me.

I didn’t even realise at first that the high pitched keening sounds I could hear were coming from me.

“I’ll fucking show you ‘Rhysand’,” Rhys was muttering as he pounded into me. “You don’t have to be my darling but you sure as hell are mine.”

My hands clenched in the bedsheets, and I wanted to argue but at this point I was too far gone.

“I’d make you say it,” Rhys told me, “but I kind of like it that I can fuck you speechless.”

And then pulled me back up against him, and sucked my earlobe in between his teeth at the same time as one of his hands snaked down to rub against my clit. His other hand crushed my breast in his fingers, and this increase in sensation all over me had me free falling toward my climax.

“I told you you were mine,” he whispered, and then fucked into me so hard I fell forward again, and then I was coming with my hands planted on the bed and Rhys’ nails running down my spine.

I was only vaguely aware of Rhys pulling out of me and spilling his release over my lower back, as I collapsed onto the black satin sheets. The heat of it dripped over my skin.

And then it was whisked away as Rhys cleaned us up by magic, before falling on to the bed beside me.

We lay there, breathing in the dark for sometime. And then Rhys rolled over, pulled the belt from around my neck, and with an uncharacteristic gentleness, asked, “Would you like to stay here tonight?”

I knew it was a pointless question. Knew there was no way I could be out of my cell for a night without someone noticing. But more importantly, I knew I’d never give Rhys the satisfaction.

“I’d rather rot in jail,” I shot out, and Rhys just chuckled. “As you wish,” he said, and the the world tilted again and we were back in my cell.

I expected cold air to hit me, but instead I just felt warmth as I collapsed onto my hay pallet. My body felt spent, but this time in a good way, and I was surprised to find sleep right behind me.

“Good night, Feyre darling,” Rhys whispered, and then he was gone.

****

Oooooh okay that was WAY too much fun but also now I gotta go write something fluffy as after care 😂 Thanks anon for that delicious prompt! Also gotta do a big ol shout out to the brain trust @asteria-of-mars, @feyrearcherons and @thehaemanthus for once again getting me over the line.

Now who wants to wear Rhys’ belt like a collar?

UPDATE: Part 2 by special request.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @thalia-2-rose

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #smut #asks #prompt fill #mine

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yeahimaloser · 4 years

Text

By The Window

Hi everyone! Sorry this might have taken a while, I was a little stressed out, but here it is! I hope you like it! it’s a little hurt/comfort one-shot! This ones a littttle bit more spicy than my other one shots but is still sfw :)) so I hope you enjoy!!

summary: God, you missed him, you missed Keigo so much that it hurt, you wished over and over agian for him to just come back home to you.

Reader has no pronouns metioned

4k words

You faced the window, sighing.

How long had it been, 2, 3 months since you’ve seen Hawks? It felt like a lifetime ago when he kissed you goodbye, it felt as though you had forgotten the way his hands held you, it felt like you hadn’t seen those piercing golden eyes in years.

Your heart yearned for him to come home, you knew that it was for a mission, you knew that he had to have no outside contact, but still, all you wanted was him, for him to come home.

Nothing felt right without Keigo, everything felt wrong. Watching movies felt like a tedious effort, without Keigo holding you to him it felt lonely. Sleeping felt uncomfortable, the bed never felt so big without him inside the covers. Even eating felt different, without Keigo talking to you about work, just talking about random things that never failed to put a smile on your face.

You tried to cheer yourself up, but it made no difference.

No matter how much self-care you did to try and relax, your body still craved him. Still wished he was there with you, holding you, teasing you. You felt as though you were going crazy without him.

You even thought about how he would be acting if he were with you, how he would randomly start slow dancing with you in the kitchen when you prepared dinner, how he would joke with you, how he would softly kiss your lips after a long day. How he would tell you stories about his work while in bed, making little patterns on your stomach as you drifted off to sleep, his voice soothing you until your mind fogged over. You supposed you missed the domestic bliss of it all, you missed how your heart leaped whenever he spoke to you, you missed the way his voice sounded whenever he would just mindlessly talk to you. The way his love never failed to make you feel more alive.

Every day without him felt like a sin, like being without him felt wrong. Like being away from him felt like you had committed some sort of crime, and you were doing something wrong.

It hit you again, that pang. After Keigo left, after about a week that’s when you started to feel it. It came in small waves at first, with small little feelings of sadness. When you would have to make dinner for one, when you had to sleep alone. That’s how it started anyway. But now, it had gotten bigger. The waves increased until you were practically drowning in your loneliness. You hated it, you hated everything about it.

Still looking out the window, you quickly wiped a tear that seemed to fall on your cheek.

You weren't sure why you refused to cry, no one would see if you did, no one was around to see you break down. But maybe you didn’t want yourself to admit it, to admit how you felt like you couldn’t live without Keigo by your side. Maybe you didn’t want to see yourself cry, to admit how utterly angry you were at the universe for taking Keigo away for this long.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to want him to come back, maybe it was wrong of you to just want him back in your arms. It probably was, he had a job, and here you were, upset that he wasn’t with you. You just hated it, hated all of it.

He didn’t tell you when he would be back, only that he would be gone for a big mission, he told you how much he would miss you, how he would fly home to you immediately, even if his wings were on fire, he wouldn’t stop till he saw you again.

So you waited by the window, waited for him to fly through the window, to kiss away your tears, to push away your loneliness with his strong, secure, hands. For you to feel him again, for you two to just… be together again.

Yet, you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Keigo was miles away from Japan, on a secret stupid government mission, you hated it. Was it so much to ask to have your boyfriend back to you? Was it too much to see him again? For his voice to soothe you? All you wanted… was him.

The sky was now darker, the sun had started to set, and the sky brightened with different colors, illuminating its beauty. Normally, you would find something like this beautiful, but without Keigo to enjoy it with you, it made you feel uneasy. It made you feel like you were enjoying some bittersweet moment, but in the end, it just became bitter.

You hated all this, you hated when Keigo had to leave you for so long, you hated that you couldn’t enjoy your boyfriend for long periods of time. But most of all, you hated how selfish you felt.

Keigo was out there, risking himself so the world could be a better place, but here you were, wondering when he would be back. You felt like such an idiot, like a terrible person.

Yet, you couldn’t help it. You just missed him so much, you couldn’t help how lonely you were without him with you, without his calming presence you felt lost, like you had strayed away from him. You hated it, hated feeling so worthless and horrible.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel worried about him, quite the opposite. Whenever his name was even mentioned, you couldn’t help but tense up, thinking, “Are they gonna announce that he's ok? That he’s not? What if he never comes home? What if…”

But whenever you had those doubts that intruded your mind, you would always remember what Keigo had told you, “What? You’re worried about me? Why? You know I’ll always come back to you, I love you! I won't leave you, I promise. I’m a hero, I’m strong, I’ll always come back to you, my dove, no matter what. You can always count on me to see you again, even if I can barely stand, I’ll always come home to you. And besides, I think you're the only person who would be willing to put up with someone like me!”

You remembered how you had teased him about how cheesy the line was. But looking back on it, those words kept you going, every time you felt hopeless, you would always come back to those words, those words that would comfort you. Even if they were cheesy, they still reassured you, still helped keep you going even though your world felt like it might collapse on top of you.

You heard a chirp, snapping you out of your thoughts, a red little bird had landed on the window sill, chirping a happy sounding tone. You would normally smile at the cute thing, but even a small bird reminded you of Keigo, making your smile falter.

There wasn't very much daylight left, but still, just getting outside and finding some nice fresh air would soothe you enough. A breath of fresh air might have been just what you needed, to beath out the loneliness you felt.

You stood from your spot next to the window, stretching as you did so. You haphazardly put on a light sweater and shoes, you would only be gone for a little amount of time. You still had yet to make dinner for yourself.

Locking the door to your home, you set off.

You supposed it really wasn’t your home, it was Keigo’s. After he had made your relationship public, he asked you to move in with him. He had been so cute and kind about the whole thing, constantly making sure you were ok with the move and were fine living with him. He really didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

Keigo was always like that though, always making sure you were ok and secure, always checking up on you. But whenever you did the same, asking if he was ok, he would always push you off and tell you some bullshit about how you shouldn’t worry. That was one thing you hated about your boyfriend, how stubborn he was. No matter how much you reassured him that you loved and accepted him, he only got as far as telling you his name, telling you what it meant to him. He told you once, that he just preferred to look onto the future instead of dwindling on the past. You liked the sentiment, but still, you hoped that in the future he would open up to you more.

You walked down the sidewalk of the city. Yet, it seemed more peaceful than it usually was, the sunset in the background, the soft wind, the overall glow of the city that you and Keigo lived in was beautiful. You wished he could see it. You wished he would hold your hand, whispering jokes and praises in your ear, teasing you, and playfully talking about his day.

You were struck with that wave again, that feeling of sadness, of loneliness. It was just so hard without him, you didn’t really think you would miss him this much, this was the first big mission where he would be gone from you, and you hated it, no, you despised it.

You just felt like a piece of you had left, and it hadn’t come back for so long. Some days your mind would start to drift too much, wondering if that knock would come on your door, telling you that Keigo Takami was gone. You tried your best to stifle those thoughts, to push them away. Keigo would come back to you, he promised.

You balled your hands into fists, determined not to cry. You took a few deep breaths in order to calm yourself, trying to stabilize your mind from drifting. If you did cry though, would anyone care? Would anyone ask? What would you even say? The love of my life is risking everything so people will be safe, yet here I am, crying about how lonely I feel. It was annoying that a part of you wanted to cry, while another part of you wanted to push away those feelings, to just shove them down and for them to just go away. You just wanted to feel better again.

In an effort to distract yourself, you looked up at the sunset, trying to think of something other than Keigo. Trying to show your mind that it needed to stop thinking and craving him.

You took a shaky breath as you stopped walking, you had found a nearby park to try and calm your mind.

You stopped to enjoy the view, but it was all so melancholy. It was all so bitter and wrong, you felt so out of place.

You sighed, perhaps this wasn’t the good idea you thought it was.

But as you were about to walk off from the sunset, you felt it.

The flash of wind, the red in your vision, and finally, the feeling of a warm and tight embrace around you. The hands that rested on your hips, the chest that was pressed firmly against your back. The smell of the soft breeze, you recognized it.

At first, You gasped, confused. What was going on? Who was holding you?

Then you realized, it was Keigo.

The smell, the feeling, the presence, it was all him.

You whipped around to face him, he smiled at you, it was meant to be playful and teasing, but you could see the longing behind it, the way his eyes shone with love and want. The way his hands rubbed light circles on your hips, trying to reassure you he was really there with you, that he was home.

Before you knew it, your eyes had started to water, you quickly tried to wipe them away, you didn’t want Keigo to see you so upset.

But Keigo had already pulled you into him, kissing your cheek lightly, “Hey there Dove, did you miss me?”

It was a dumb line on his part, he knew you had missed him, he knew how much you were worried about him, how much you had been thinking about him while he was away.

He rubbed comforting circles on your back, “M-Maybe,” your words were meant to come out playful and teasing, but they came out shaky, which just made Keigo smirk.

You pulled back from him, getting a better look at him. The sunset light hit him perfectly, the sun seemed to glide through his hair, the piercing light set his eyes a glaze. His smile made your stomach flutter, the way he gently caressed you made you feel so safe and warm. His embrace was inviting and intoxicating, and you loved every second of it.

It was then that you realized he was in civilian clothes, a nice orange sweater that gave him an even more glow to his skin, if that was even possible.

He was just… breathtaking.

You leaned into his lips, you couldn’t stand it anymore, you just missed him so much.

He leaned into you too, if not more so. You had almost forgotten how warm and soft his lips were, how inviting and sweet they were. How his hands would hold you securely against him, making sure to reassure you that he was there, and he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

The way he hungrily fed into you, kissing you back with more passion and strength. You had to admit, it was a little rough for him, normally his kisses were soft and careful, but you could tell that he craved you as much as you did him.

But after a few moments, you pulled away. Keigo tried to chase you back to him, tried to bring you back into his oh so lovely lips. But you knew better.

Even if all you wanted to do was to keep going, to kiss Keigo until both of you were sick of kissing one another, you knew that was better to do in the privacy of your home.

Keigo once told you that, “The media is always watching, babe, the last thing we want them to see is both of us kissing each other's faces off.”

It was clear that Keigo’s mind was a bit foggy with longing, you knew you two had to get home. Even if your body ached for Keigo to hold you, how your lips screamed for his, you wanted to savor him, not just rush and ruin it.

“Keigo, we should go home,” But Keigo whined, pulling your hips to him. But you just smiled, “come on Keigo, we can enjoy each other all we want when we get home,” you leaned into him, kissing the top of his nose, “I missed you so much baby, let's savor this, please.”

Keigo nodded, “Yeah you're right, I guess I got a little carried away there.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Believe me, I’m trying to not get too intoxicated myself. I just…” you trailed off, looking down at your hands, “I was so lonely without you Kei. I hated it, I just-”

But Keigo shushed you with a quick kiss on your cheek, “I know baby, me too. It was so hard, not holding you in my arms, not kissing you every night before I went to sleep, not seeing your stunning face,” you rolled your eyes, but Keigo just kissed your hairline lightly, “not to hear your beautiful voice. God, dove, let’s go home before I just say ‘fuck it’ to it all.”

You giggled a bit, you hated to admit it, but Keigo always had a way with words, he always knew what to say to make you smile and feel so much better. But you also hated how much you wished you could do the same to him.

“Come on Keigo, let's go home,” you intertwined your hand with his.

He brought your hand up to his lips, giving your knuckles a gentle kiss, “Lead the way lovebird.”

______

After you both had gotten back to the apartment, only stepping a few feet through the door, your hands were already firmly in Keigo’s hair, dragging him down for a kiss. It was sloppy, but it was passionate and love-filled. The way his hands roughly pulled you into him, the way he would break for a second, looking at you with love in his eyes, only to dive back in. The way his wings would puff when your hands brushed past them, it all felt too right.

After a while, Keigo pulled away.

Now it was your turn to whine, to try and feel his lips again. “Hush, you cute thing,” he gave you a quick kiss on your nose, “don’t you need food? I don’t think you’ve eaten, have you?”

You glared at him, “No, but who cares! I missed you so much, I-I wished so hard that I could feel your lips again,” you looked away from Keigo, not wanting him to see you so flustered, “And I missed your hands,” you brought his left hand up to your lips, ghosting your lips over his knuckles. You could feel him tense up, so you kissed his palm. When you looked back up at him, he was bright red.

Oh did you love that sight, when he would get red from embarrassment, from when you got to tease him for a change. You loved the way his wings would puff up, and he would try and calm them down. All of it was just downright cute.

You made your way up to his arm, “I missed these arms around me,” then to his neck, kissing his pulse point lightly “This delicious neck,” you said softly. You heard him gulp, it was clear that even though you craved him, his body and mind seemed to crave you just as much. You nipped at the spot a bit, just to watch his little struggle, but eventually, you made your way up to his lips, whispering against them, “So, Keigo Takami, is it ok if I enjoy myself a bit?”

He let out a light chuckle, but his eyes gave away his longing and desire, “Please do… but we have to eat dinner soon, I’m hungry.”

You sighed, “You ruined it,” but you really couldn’t be happier

_____

Your eyes fluttered open lightly, the light from the window peeking into your eyes.

You groaned, expecting to roll over to a cold, empty part of the bed. To realize that your delightful, kiss filled night was all just a dream.

But when you did rollover, the other side of the bed was warm, yet still empty. You, still in your morning haze, were confused.

That was, until Keigo walked over to you, with a tray of breakfast foods. Then it all came back to you, how you both barely slept, too busy talking with each other, still wrapped In tight hugs, whispering little, “I love you”s through each kiss you shared.

It was all so lovely.

You smiled up at him from your position on the bed, “What’s all this?”

He just smiled back at you, the sunlight mixing with his complexion made his skin so angelic, “I thought we could have some breakfast in bed. I-I kinda feel a little bad.” His puffy eyebrows knit together, his eyes darted away from yours.

You gave him a confused look, “Why’s that?”

He sighed, placing the tray down while sitting next to you on the bed. He lightly stroked your check, “I left for so long, baby, I know how lonely you were without me. I wished I could have been there, to hold you and kiss away your worry about me. I hate feeling helpless, especially when it’s with you.”

You smiled at him, “You have a way with words, Mr. Takami.”

He gave a little chuckle, leaning down to your lips, his hands still grabbing your hips lightly, pushing you firmly down on the bed, “And you have a way with my heart, my love.”

______

Of course, that wasn’t the end of Keigo’s pampering. Not only of you, but also of himself as well.

He loved it when the two of you had a day off together. After you both ate breakfast in bed, he wouldn’t let you leave.

“Babbbbbe, you can't just leave me by myself. I need your cuddles and love,” he whined.

“Kei, sweety, I have to use the bathroom.”

When you got back though, he pulled you back into him, “You aren’t leaving me that early!”

You giggled, “Who said I wanted to birdboy.”

He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissed you lightly, whispering soft, lovely things, “I love you,” “I missed you so much,” “Your so warm baby.” He said each one after each kiss he left on your skin.

You relaxed into his touch, gently running your hands through his hair, down to his feathers.

He shuddered slightly, but didn’t stop you. You brushed them carefully, making sure not to damage them or irritate them in any way. You made sure you were being soft and, overall, gentle with him. Making sure when he would twitch you shudder as your fingers worked through his wings, they were good twitches and shudders.

“Mmmm, Baby,” he said, his face still planted firmly in your neck, “that feels nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you Keigo,” he kissed your neck again, gently, “thank you for coming back to me, thank you for pushing away my loneliness.”

“Oh, Dove,” he said, “thank you for waiting.”

You sighed, you loved this. You loved mornings where the two of you could just relax and bathe in each other, drinking one another up, taking your time savoring him as he did the same to you. The way both of you would just happily cuddle and lean into one another's touch. You loved the way Keigo would tiredly whisper sweet words to you, loved how his lips, although sloppy, would kiss your skin lightly. How his hands would rub your skin, relaxing you into his touch, making you lean that much more into him.

You just loved his presence.

“Keigo,” you said lightly.

“Yes sweetheart,” his words tickled your neck.

“I missed you.”

He rose from his spot on your bed, making you whine.

But you stopped when his eyes looked into yours, the way they were so intense, yet at the same time, so goddamn gooey. He just looked so soft, so utterly in love you thought the whole thing couldn’t be real, no one person could look down at someone with such pure love and adoration.

But Keigo did, “I missed you too, let me kiss away all the loneliness, all your longing, I’m here baby, and I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

#bnha hawks #hawks x reader #mha keigo takami #hawks x y/n #keigo takami #mha keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #mha fanfiction

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creepyproxies · 4 years

Note

Can you post 100 question about you , we will ask for the answers?

Okayyy!! Send a number, and I will answer!

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

4: What do you think about most?

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

7: What’s your strangest talent?

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

13: What’s your religion?

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

17: What was the last lie you told?

18: Do you believe in karma?

19: What does your URL mean?

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

23: How do you vent your anger?

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

36: Define Art.

37: Do you believe in luck?

38: What’s the weather like right now?

39: What time is it?

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

41: What was the last book you read?

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

43: Do you have any nicknames?

44: What was the last film you saw?

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

50: Do you believe in magic?

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

52: What is your astrological sign?

53: Do you save money or spend it?

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

55: Love or lust?

56: In a relationship?

57: How many relationships have you had?

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

59: Where were you yesterday?

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

62: What’s your favourite animal?

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

64: Where is your best friend?

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

66: What is your heritage?

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

69: Biggest turn ons?

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

77: How can I win your heart?

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

80: What size shoes do you wear?

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

82: What is your favourite word?

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

87: What is your current desktop picture?

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

90: Turn offs?

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

92: where are your parents from?

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

98: Ever been on a plane?

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say

#asks #100 questions #ask game #ask me things #anon

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hanoella · 3 years

Text

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #SoundCloud

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 11

The big one! This literally took weeks to complete. I wanted it to be done.

We are inching ever closer to the end of this arc. Two more chapters I think.

This one is much longer than the recent ones, but don’t worry. That theme most likely won’t continue.

Warnings: // non-explicit blood, violence, and injury, Major Character Death(s) \\

Scar called upon all of his allies on an exceptionally cold evening, a wicked blizzard was blowing through the server as Scott walked hand in hand with Jimmy through the white-out. Even the desert wasn’t spared from the stirring storm.

A broken line of lights were ascending up Monopoly Mountain, all headed to the same meeting.

When everyone had arrived, warm drinks were passed around. Cleo, Bdubs, Tango, Scott, Jimmy, Grian, and the resident Enderman were huddled in the living area.

Scott was biting his nails, so to speak. He was pretty sure he knew what they were there for; and he was not excited. He sat next to Jimmy and begged that the Red Desert wasn’t going to start a war with Dogwarts. It was going to happen sooner or later, everyone knew that, but Scott felt an ounce of selfishness.

Things were going so well.

He was starting to feel like he was on the wrong side of history. Sitting in that room, Scott had been to Dogwarts after Grain and Scar had tried to burn Skiz’s banner. He was in the room when they started talking about war; and here he was again. In a room talking about war.

He was there for quiet conversations about nonstop threats from Scar and Grian, how they were going to protect themselves, and questioning why it had to be them.

Pizza was dead. The air was unstable, everyone could feel it.

Scar began talking about a plan to trap the Sand Castle. Grian was confident that their new bunker would protect them well enough and had even started moving their things out. Dogwarts was to be baited into the castle where Scar would be waiting for them, to pull the trigger and blow the entire building to smithereens with the Red Army inside.

The thought of it made Scott’s insides turn. He’d already jeopardized his entire mission by falling for Dogwarts, becoming their friend when he was supposed to hate them, he kicked up the dirt when he suggested that Etho’s house was flammable, another slip up and the house of cards he’d built could be pulled down around him.

The whole meeting Scott just sat on the couch feeling sick. Too cowardly to say it was wrong. When he knew it was wrong. Like always, he let someone else steer his life for him. Scott watched as everyone agreed and started leaving. A feeling of distance fell upon him as he walked back home, Jimmy in the lead this time.

Tomorrow. He only had until tomorrow to decide whose side he was on. Scott stared at the ceiling in bed, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing a second of sleep when his pager started beeping. Already knowing who it was, Scott quietly left the house once more.

Dogwarts was eerily silent on top, but a quiet conversation emitted from the living quarters. Every member was sat around the room conversing with each other about their plan of attack. Tango shot him a glance when he entered the room, his eyes went wide and he excused himself from his conversation with Joel.

“Scott?” He whispered scoldingly when he was close enough, shoving the other to the most empty side of the room.

“I can’t do this Tango, I’m telling them,” Scott whispered.

“What? No, no, no, you can’t back out now! My god- Scott how could you even come here?” Tango hissed through his teeth.

“This is wrong! You know it’s wrong! I can’t just stand by anymore, I can’t do this to them,” Scott tried to keep his composure. He pleaded.

“And what about the others? What about you? Us?” Tango asked, his face was pale.

Scott closed his eyes, he’d done everything in his power to give as little information as he could about the Red Desert Alliance to Dogwarts. He wanted to protect people, of course, but he knew there was no escaping the war. Even if he didn’t say anything tonight. Something would happen tomorrow.

His friends were wrong, he’d grown enough to see that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drowning out the lump in his throat and turning away from Tango, who yanked his sleeve in a last ditch effort. It was too late.

Scott strode over to Ren, tapping him on the shoulder. The Red King looked down, dismissing Etho and addressing Scott.

“Hey dude,” he greeted.

Scott’s hands shook as he formulated his admission, “The Red Desert is going to war with you tomorrow,” he said. Plain and simple.

The horrific shock on Tango and Impulse’s faces could easily be read as concern for the Red Army.

Scott felt like he shrunk to the size of an atom as everyone took turns looking at each other. Ren brought a steady hand to his chin, resting it on his knuckles in thought. The lights glared pure white off his glasses.

He walked to the table in the middle of the room and gazed upon the map, leaning over it to ponder. Scott fell back against the wall, his heart was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t even paying attention when Ren started firing off about their plan of action.

He wasn’t listening when Tango yelled at him on the way home. All he could think about was what the hell he was going to do now.

The jig was certainly going to be up tomorrow. Someone was going to be accused of spying, and when one of them went down, so would the rest.

What would Jimmy think of him? Should he just come clean? Admit to joining the Red Army on accident and let him figure out how he felt about it?

It didn’t matter. Scott had three hours to rest his eyes, and spend possibly the last peaceful night he would ever have with his husband.

The morning was spent mostly in silence. Scott gathered his weapons and stocked his arsenal with potions. He stared at the wall and went over the situation in his head. Preparing goodbyes, apology speeches, everything he could think of that might go wrong.

“Hey,” Jimmy came up behind him, taking a fire resistant potion out of his hand, “I was scared you were gonna drop it if you floated away any further,” he sat down on the workbench.

“Are you scared?” he asked, taking Scott’s hand and interlocking their fingers.

Scott closed his eyes, leaning his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. He nodded his head, not in the mood to lie.

“So am I,” Jimmy confessed, “just promise me something?” he tucked Scott’s stray hairs behind his ears.

“No goodbyes,” he said. As if he was swearing it into existence.

Scott nodded, doing his best to smile optimistically. He held out his pinkie finger in a gesture of promise. Jimmy hooked his own pinkie around it and shook it a bit, leaning forwards to touch foreheads with the other before leaving to get his armor.

They left at dawn and shivered all the way to the Red Desert. It was exceptionally cold that morning. Like the weather was also fighting in their war. A small group of people was gathered at the bottom of Monopoly Mountain. Most of them were sat sharpening their weapons and counting their arrows. Scott spotted Tango and shot him the most apologetic look he could manage before excusing himself to talk to him.

“Tango,” Scott started.

“You know they’re going to be here any second,” Tango said, “so why don’t you tell us about the plan like you did for them?”

Scott was making his mind up about what he should say when an arrow shot into the sand near his feet. He looked up, scanning the tree line.

It was too late.

Everyone gathered on the sand snapped to attention, drawing their weapons and forming a group opposite to the Red Army. Scar was shaking his head, asking himself how this could happen. Scott walked wearily to the frontlines, his free hand was taken by Jimmy.

Everyone in the Red Desert looked at each other, then Scar raised his bow, and that was it.

Scott was jumped by Impulse. Better him than anyone else, even if his blows were a bit harder due to bitterness. They went back and forth stealing glances at the rest of the battle where a few mounds had been constructed to hide behind.

Impulse kicked Scott onto his back and kneeled on his stomach, taking his air. He leaned in, sparing nervous glances to their surroundings.

“I hope you got your fill of righteousness,” he hissed.

Scott gasped for air, “this was going to happen whether I had a part in it or not,” he said.

“How could you?!” Impulse shouted, but whatever else he was going to say was stolen when Bdubs rushed him from the side, throwing both of them off of Scott and into their own cloud of dust.

Scott breathed in a lung full of dust and rolled over, stumbling to his feet and spinning around to gauge the battle. It was a blur. His mind flew to looking for Jimmy. Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a shield, where a stray arrow plunged into the wood.

“Where is Grian?” Tango shook Scott’s arm, sweat was rolling down his face through a coat of brown dust.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him since..” Scott froze.

Tango seemed to read the pallid expression on his face and nodded encouragingly.

Scott didn’t finish his sentence. He threw himself to his feet and sprinted across the battlefield, towards the border of the desert. A series of blueprints he’d seen all those weeks ago flashed through his head as he ran. Dodging arrows and slamming into his fellow server mates.

Finally, he rounded a barricade and saw what he was hoping not to see. A few hundred yards away, Scar was taking Ren and Martyn in battle. Inching ever closer to a disarmingly empty plot of land. Scott knew that if you weren’t aware, you’d barely be able to see the tiny windows sticking out of the sand.

“Scar!” he called out.

Nobody heard him.

Even if they did, there was no time.

The ground under his feet rumbled, causing him to drop his weapon before a flash of pure light pierced the air. He heard screams for a moment, but they were quickly drowned out by a wall of fire ejecting itself from the ground. Scott was knocked off his feet and launched through the air.

He hit the ground with a painful thud, but he didn’t come to a stop until he’d bounced head over heels a few feet further.

Scott’s nose was pressed into the ground as he rolled around in pain. He pushed himself to his knees with shaking arms.

In front of him was a gigantic, jagged crater carved into the ground. Smoke and fire billowed from its crude maw. Scott coughed and tried to wave away the suffocating ash to no avail. It permeated his eyes and throat.

Scott realized he had been rendered deaf for the moment, and partially blind for that matter. He struggled to his feet and outstretched his arms for balance, falling over twice before his purchase returned to him.

Someone grabbed his arms from behind and spun him around, touching his face and holding him up steadily.

“I can’t hear!” Scott shouted, pointing to his ears in case whoever it was didn’t understand him.

“Can’t see you,” he pointed at his eyes and then at where he assumed the person was.

The person took his hand and formed it into a fist, then interlocked their pinkie with his own.

“Jimmy?” Scott asked, he rubbed his eyes but his hands were taken away. Jimmy positioned his face gently and he felt water in his eyes, washing away the charred debris.

His vision returned to him as the stinging in his eyes subsided. Not so much the same for his hearing, but that was okay. Jimmy hugged him close and looked him over one more time, before tracing the word “stay” on Scott’s palm.

Scott nodded, watching the other go off into the smoke. Probably to help people.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Through the black smoke came a figure. Scott recognized it as Scar. He was climbing out of the crater. His movements looked painful, he was dragging something behind him.

It became apparent when he hoisted the object over the edge of the crater that Scar was dragging a limp Grian behind him. He laid the other out on the sand, hovering over him with concern etched on his face.

Scott crawled over, shouting to see if Scar could hear him. He pointed at his ears and shook his head. Scott wished he knew human sign language.

Scar turned his attention back to attempting to wake Grian, who wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Sensing that Scar was beginning to get very upset, Scott told him to sit back.

First he tried patting Grian on the chest, tapping his forehead, then observing him for any sign of breathing. His lips weren’t blue yet, he was still alive. Scott took his fist and pressed it deeply into Grian’s sternum, then firmly rubbed up and down.

Grian didn’t move at first, then his eyes flew open under his cracked glasses. His arms shot up to cover his chest and he cursed profusely at how he’d been woken up. He’d probably have a bruise for a while.

Scott motioned for him to calm down and breathe. Count to ten and back, and so on. Grian followed his instructions, wiping the dirt from his face and off his probably useless glasses.

Once he was sure Grian and Scar were fine, he quietly excused himself. The dust has started to clear now and the silhouettes of Dogwarts and the Red Desert alike were milling around, nobody seemed to be fighting anymore. Presumably lost without their respective captains. Scott’s ears has started ringing, and behind the din he could hear the ghosts of people shouting.

Scott idly counted the people around him. Some were huddled over a hastily constructed furnace attempting to brew last minute healing potions. As he counted, he kept coming up short. He counted again, and again. Every time there were two people missing.

He turned back to the crater. Whose smoke had started dissipating into the sky. He knew who was missing, and as he stared into the gaping wound of the earth, a hand reached up to the sky. Then came down on the jagged cliff, pulling the rest of the body to the surface.

Ren fell in a heap at the edge of the hole. Breathing hard from his journey to the top. Scott didn’t know whether or not to offer him help. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found, probably crunched beneath the debris of the bunker and the rest of the desert, and he was covered in a layer of collateral grime. It painted his clothes black and made his yellow eyes stand out.

He pushed himself to his knees with a lot of trouble, scanning the destroyed battle field with a mirthful expression until his gaze fell on Scott. The way in which they locked eyes made Scott flinch, he was in big trouble.

His mind told him he needed to diffuse the situation, but he was still without most of his hearing. It would be even harder if Ren had also been deafened. A familiar “why me” rang through his head. The urge to just leave and call everything quits nagged at him.

Ren stood on shaking legs and made his way, as quick as he could manage, into Scott’s personal space, who backed away; but he yanked his arm.

He stared talking very fast. Scott saw his mouth move but barely any noise actually processed in his mind. Scott shouted as clearly as he could that he couldn’t hear. Throwing in a few sorry’s as he went.

Ren dragged his hands from the tips of his ears down his face in frustration, his fingertips left smudges on his cheeks and over his eyes. He began doing sign language, but Scott shook his head.

By now a small congregation of people had started observing the argument from a distance. All of them more privy to what Ren was mad about than Scott was. Heat rose to his face in embarrassment as he tried to talk over Ren, trying to explain himself. Ren had started yelling as if it would help, and the argument was getting visibly heated when Jimmy stepped in.

He pushed Ren back with force so that he stumbled. This seemed to cause a chain reaction. Ren shoved Jimmy back, and they went back and forth until Jimmy threw a punch.

Scott attempt to make them stop, he came between them and ordered them to calm down, but tensions were far too high for any de-escalating. His emotions were verging on a serious breakdown, frantically begging the fight to stop. To let him explain.

Nobody heard him. If they did, they didn’t care.

Ren had taken out his damaged axe and started swinging.

Jimmy kicked Ren in the stomach, the ladder fell on his back and Jimmy kicked him again.

“Jimmy stop it!” Scott shouted, and he could almost hear himself.

Jimmy looked up at him, still standing over the Red King. His eyes were furious.

Something passed quickly in Scott’s periphery, so he turned around.

Behind him, one foot still propping himself out of the crater, was Martyn. A freshly shot bow still aimed in front of him. His eyes were dark and angry as he stared right past Scott.

Scott turned back to Jimmy, whose eyes were fixed and frozen on Martyn. He staggered back, looking down at his chest where a poisoned arrow had pierced his battle-worn chest plate. His hand wrapped around the projectile, and as if he weren’t even thinking, he wrenched it from his flesh.

Jimmy’s expression read as shock. Right before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell like a load of bricks onto his knees, then his back. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around the arrow. Covered in a mixture of blood and sickly green poison.

He fell, and he stayed.

Scott didn’t have a second to process. Not even the thought to scream, reach out, or run came to him. A blanket of nauseating numbness draped itself around him. His mind left him as he stared helplessly. He watched as Jimmy’s lifeless body grew tendrils of thorny vines until it was consumed indefinitely. Only an arrow wrapped in rose vines remained. Light green flowers bloomed and waved in the wind.

And as if he were watching himself on a screen, Scott did something that he didn’t know he could do. That he had forgotten he could do.

A flash of light illuminated the livid grey sky.

Just as fast, Scott had approached Martyn, who didn’t have time to run. He didn’t have time to put his arms in front of his face as Scott’s hand curled into a fist.

He brought his knuckles down on the center of Martyn’s face, an audible crunch sounded out as he was knocked off his feet. A horrified expression painted itself on his face as he held his bleeding nose.

Scott raised his fist again, and as he did a string of dry lighting spread across the sky. He aimed again, and when his fist met Martyn’s face, a bolt of light shot down from the sky. It turned the world into a pure white canvas with an ear piercing roar.

In its wake was a blackened patch of burning sand. Scott and Martyn sat just as they had been before, but Martyn would not get up.

His body lay bruised and burnt, eyes closed tightly in pain. The rose vines claimed his remains quickly, wrapping around a pair of bloodied hands instead of an arrow this time.

Scott stayed bent over where his friend had been. Tears streamed down his face as the static disappeared from his ears. He ripped his arms out of the thorns which tore at his bandages. Blood permeated the wrappings, but he didn’t know how much was his.

He pushed himself away, kneeling in the grave he’d created.

“Major,” someone said, cold and angry.

A hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, spinning him around forcefully. Scott had only a second to see that it was Ren, before he was hoisted up by the front of his shirt and thrown across creation. Landing hard on his ass for the second time that day. His shoulder made a nauseating POP, hanging limply and awkwardly at his side when he pushed himself up.

Ren placed his foot on his chest to keep him down.

Behind Ren, the greater alliance of Dogwarts had gathered. Confusion and betrayal was etched on their faces.

“Not a word, Major,” Ren said. Low and forced, his eyes were blown wide with something like fear.

Then he raised the handle of his broken axe over his head, the hilt made contact with Scott’s skull.

Lights out.

#me writing this was like no shawty don’t do that 😫#it’s almost midnight as i’m typing these tags pardon my unhingedness #kingslayer au #mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #on god I really have to do all these characters tags #goodtimeswithscar #grian #scott smajor #solidarity gaming #impulsesv #tangotek #bdubbleo100 #zombie cleo

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cakesunflower · 3 years

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Outer Banks Series Rewrite/JJ Maybank Fic Series [5. Midsummers]

Disclaimer: None of the characters (except for Stella) or their dialogues (for the most part) are my own, and belong to the writers & creators of Outer Banks!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read on AO3!

Here’s episode 5 “Midsummers”!

“Dude—Mom catches you out here, and you’re dead.” Stella peeked one eye open, catching sight of her sister standing over her, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised. “You’re literally out in the open.”

Kie’s concern came from the pen Stella was currently twirling between her fingers as she lay on the ground in their backyard. Stella didn’t say anything, instead took another pull from the pen, letting the familiar smoke invade her lungs before blowing it out slowly. The act did its job in calming her down, and Kiara let out a sigh before shifting to sit down next to Stella, before going down on her back, too.

Stella could feel her sister’s gaze on her as Kie turned her head to look at her, but Stella kept her gaze up at the sky. It was sort of cloudy, but there wasn’t a threat for rain. If there had been, the celebration later tonight would’ve been rescheduled ages ago.

“Look, I know you’re worried about JJ—” Kie began, but Stella cut her off.

“He willingly let himself get arrested for something he didn’t do, and he has a drug-addict, abusive dad to go back home to. We haven’t heard from him yet.” Stella looked at Kie, then, jaw hard. “Of course I’m worried.”

Kie’s gaze was soft with sympathy, but Stella could see her own concern swimming, too. After all, Kie cared about JJ as well. Maybe not in the way Stella did, but just as good. “He’ll turn up,” Kie assured. “He always does.”

Despite Kie’s efforts, Stella wasn’t all that comforted. And maybe Kie saw the deep worry that had etched itself into Stella’s features, because Kie’s face softened even more, looking at her sister gently as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Stella’s throat worked as her heart drummed in her chest, forcing herself into a sitting position while Kie kept on her back, looking up at her. For a moment, Stella hesitantly chewed on her lower lip, wondering if now was the right time to indulge, but it was Kie. It was her sister, and if Stella couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I kissed.” There. She said it. Now it was out in the open.

Kie blinked once before her eyes widened almost comically, shooting up in a sitting position opposite of Stella as she demanded, “What? When?”

“Yesterday,” Stella admitted, stomach flipping as memories of her and JJ’s actions played through her mind like her favorite movie. She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing on her lips. “We were at John B’s, before coming to the summer series.” She fiddled with the pen between her fingers. “It just—it kind of just happened.”

Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “It didn’t kind of just happen,” she mocked. “This has been waiting to happen for so Goddamn long.” Stella tried not to laugh at the happiness shining in Kie’s eyes, which did a lot to relax Stella. She’d been worried Kie would ram on her for breaking one of their friend group rules, but Kie seemed anything but disappointed. Her eyes widened then, shoulders lifting. “Oh, shit, John B and Pope owe me twenty bucks!”

Stella blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Kie snickered, looking all too delighted. “We kind of had a bet going on over how long it’d take for you and JJ to get together.” Stella’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “I bet it’d happen before Midsummers and would you look at that! You just made me forty bucks richer, sis.”

“Wha—” Stella cut herself off with a scoff, ripping up some grass before tossing it at Kie. She shrieked through a laugh, jerking back before brushing away the pieces of grass. “Are you kidding me?! You guys bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Kie responded with a smirk, not at all looking apologetic. At Stella’s gaping expression, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Stel. You two have been dancing around each other for so fucking long. We were getting tired of waiting, so we thought we’d have some fun with it,” she finished with a shrug.

Stella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, cheeks heating up at the information. She wasn’t mad or upset that her sister and friends bet on when she and JJ would get together—she was just surprised, and a little bit amused. She wondered how long the bet had been going on for. But instead of asking that, she instead inquired, “So I’m guessing JJ and I are in the clear for breaking the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

Kie waved her off, smile still in place. “You two are the exception to the rule,” she said confidently before crossing her legs and shooting Stella an expectant look. “So? Tell me how it was.” She quickly held a hand up. “But not too many details because it’s JJ and he’s like my brother and, ew, gross. But I still wanna know! How’d it happen?”

At that, the heat in Stella’s cheeks intensified into a fire as she recalled every single detail from yesterday—as if she could ever forget. “I was, uh, persuading him to come to the summer series with us.”

Kie’s eyebrows shot up. “Persuading, huh?” she repeated with an impish grin, prompting Stella to let out a giggle. “Well, looks like it worked. Not that I’m surprised. That boy is stupid for you.”

Stella pressed her lips together to keep her giddy smile from widening. “Stop.”

Kie snickered. “Man, you two are gonna be unbearable now, aren’t you? All over each other all of the time.”

“Dude, I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Stella instantly responded with a shake of her head. “All we did was kiss. We’re not suddenly together, Kie.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Only a matter of time.”

Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course she wanted to be with JJ—it was all she could think about for so long. After that kiss, it was closer to being a reality than she could ever imagine, but they needed to talk about it, first. “Maybe. But first he needs to let us know he’s okay and that his dad didn’t fucking kill him.”

Her words were tight in her throat as she said them, sending a new jolt of worry through her. JJ never really talked about it, but she knew the kind of man his dad was, knew what he was capable of. JJ getting arrested wasn’t going to go over well; it wouldn’t with any parent, but God only knew how Luke Maybank would react to it. So, yeah, Stella was sick with worry over JJ, and she just fucking wished he’d call or text her back.

Kie sighed. “Listen, maybe—”

Whatever Kie was about to say was interrupted by their mother’s voice shouting at them from the back porch. “Girls! Get in here! You need to start getting ready.” Simultaneously, both Stella and Kie threw their heads back and groaned, loudly—loud enough for Mrs. Carrera to hear them. “I don’t wanna hear it! Get your butts in here now!”

They stood up, and as Stella shoved her pen in the pocket of her shorts, Kie grumbled, “I hate everything.”

While every other soul on Figure Eight either was overjoyed to be attending Midsummers or envious that they couldn’t, Stella and Kiara were probably the only ones who hated the party. For Kie, it was more of a socialist thing that Stella respected her for, but she also knew that her sister’s disgust with Midsummers, ultimately, existed for the same reason as Stella’s: they hated the people they were surrounded by.

All of the Kooks would be gathered tonight for the party—this year a celebration for Ward Cameron, A.K.A the father of Sarah Cameron, Kie’s worst enemy. Stella didn’t care what the party was for—she despised it. The most Stella liked to dress up was in clothes of her choice, and sure that could sometimes include make-up and dresses, but not full on evening gowns with flowers in her hair. It often felt like she was getting dressed up as a lamb for a slaughter, being pushed into a crowd of Kooks who thought they were better than everyone else because of their overflowing pockets. The adults were bad enough—Stella did not want to even see the people her age.

Namely Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and anyone who was associated with them. Especially after what they did to JJ and Pope yesterday. Dicks.

But Midsummers, much to both Stella and Kie’s chagrin, was important to their parents, especially their mother. So as soon as the two girls returned inside the house, Mrs. Carrera was ushering them towards the bathrooms, like they were toddlers who needed supervised bath times.

“Hold on a second—” Mr. Carrera paused, and Stella and Kie exchanged looks when their mom sniffed the air around them. Her eyes then zeroed in on Stella, hands on her hips and eyes blazing as she demanded, “Did you just smoke, Stella?”

Knowing there was no point in lying, Stella huffed. “I needed something to take the edge off if I have to go to this stupid party.”

This wasn’t the first time their mom caught them smoking or smelling of weed, but it pissed her off just the same. While Kie tried to stifle a smile, Mrs. Carrera glared daggers at her Stella. “You’re not getting out of this, Stella. You better drown yourself in body wash and perfume when you get ready.”

Stella rolled her eyes behind her mom’s back, but listened all the same, albeit reluctantly. Kie was the first to hop into the shower in their shared bathroom, so Stella took the time to lay in her bed and unlock her phone, hoping to see a text or missed call from JJ. Her heart jumped when she saw just one text from him, chest tight as she read it quickly.

JJ: Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’ll see u later.

That was it. Just ten words of reassurance and then nothing. Part of Stella was relieved to have received anything from him at all, but another part still felt worried and a little annoyed. She—all of them—had been worried sick over him after yesterday, and this was all he could say? Stella figured she shouldn’t be too surprised. It was typical JJ behavior. He got in a bind and somehow got himself out of it, and never really let his friends in on if anything was wrong. But the tough guy persona could only get him so far.

Chewing on her lower lip, Stella drafted a text, but not to JJ. Instead, she sent a message to John B.

Stella: You heard from JJ? Do you think he’s okay?

John B responded within moments.

John B: Yeah, it’s all good. I’m with him right now. We’ll see you guys tonight, alright? Keep an eye out.

Stella blinked at the cryptic message, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But if recent circumstances were any indicator, something was probably going down tonight. Stella’s stomach flipped in both apprehension and excitement. These boys might be the death of her.

Soon enough, Kie was out of the bathroom and it was Stella’s turn. She showered and brushed her teeth, stepping back into her room to catch sight of a satin slip dress with a halter neck waiting for her on her bed. It was a pretty golden color with a V-neck trimmed with lace, and a pair of white and gold sandals were waiting by the bed, too. Stella huffed, the towel wrapped tightly around her. She knew for a fact that her mother thought she needed to have everything out for her otherwise Stella would be useless in getting dressed for Midsummers. It was kind of insulting.

Stella expertly dried her hair, letting the natural curls come into place, before doing her makeup. She kept it light, as always, because not even Midsummers was going to make her slap on a face full of makeup, especially in the middle of summer. Some foundation, mascara, highlighter, and lipstick was as far as she went, with her jewelry consisting of a dainty diamond star necklace and the rings on her fingers.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” Mrs. Carrera said upon entering her room. “Come on, let me do your hair.”

Stella frowned but listened, sitting down in front of her dresser while her mom stood behind her. She worked quickly and efficiently, braiding back the two front locks of her hair and intertwining small yellow flowers in them that Stella tried not to wrinkle her nose at.

As her mom worked, Kie wandered into Stella’s room. Her slip dress was spaghetti strapped and a lavender color, a couple of layered necklaces around her neck, and her hair down in an updo with a crown of pink and purple flowers and locks of curly hair framing her face. She looked stunning, even with that scowl she wore as she stormed into the room.

“This is disgusting,” she announced without preamble.

Mrs. Carrera wove another flower into Stella’s braid, her voice dry above her as she responded, “I know. It’s just horrible. I’m asking you two to relax and go to a fun party.”

Kie scoffed, towering over their mom. They may be twins, but Kie somehow got the tall gene from their dad, standing at the elegant 5’8”, while Stella hadn’t grown past 5’5”. “We look like bourgeoisie pigs.”

Stella tried to keep the snort from escaping, covering it up with a cough as their mom finally patted down Stella’s hair, letting out a satisfied hum before stepping back. She shot Kie an exasperated look and said, “Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?”

Kie scowled and Stella’s face scrunched up. This was so much more than that. She twisted around in the seat and stood up, crossing her arms and siding with Kie, “Mom, people not three miles from here have no power, no running water—and we’re going to Midsummers.”

Kie nodded vigorously, gesturing to Stella. “That’s so tone deaf.”

Mrs. Carrera huffed, picking up the little pouch she’d dropped on the dressing table and pulling out the diamond earrings. As she put one in, she said, “Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island Club?”

Both Stella and Kie rolled their eyes, having heard this a hundred times before. “Yeah, Mom, how could we forget?” Stella sighed. “You had to grovel for, like, ten years—”

“Twelve,” Mrs. Carrera corrected, “and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough, and do you know why we did that?”

Kie wasn’t impressed. “To keep up with the Joneses?”

Mrs. Carrera’s hands were on her hips, looking at her daughter pointedly. “No. So you two could have the experiences that I had as a child. Sweethearts, do you know what the Island Club is?”

“A factory farm for debutantes,” Kie flatly said at the same time Stella said, “Where brain cells go to die.”

Kie gave her a subtle fist bump as their mother glared at them before smiling exasperatedly. She placed one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at both of them as she said, “It is a nice place, with nice people, where you can do fun stuff.”

Neither of them bought the company line. “With out of touch rich people,” Stella added.

Kie rightfully finished, “While the island sinks slowly into the ocean.”

Their mom dropped her hands from their cheeks, stepping back and shooting them a look. Clearly, she was done trying with her stubborn daughters. “Okay, I want you two to put on your party faces if you wanna live,” she said before walking out of the room.

Both Stella and Kie sighed, looking at each other in resigned defeat. Stella picked up her pen, offering a half hearted smile. “Wanna take a hit before we go?”

Kie scoffed, taking it from her. “Or maybe ten.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the girls were at the Island Club with their parents, and instead of doing the polite thing and greeting the other party goers, Stella spotted a familiar face and grabbed Kie’s hand, jerking her chin to where Pope was working out on the lawn at the grill. She’d almost forgotten that he was working the party with his dad. Thank God for small miracles.

As they approached him, his back to the girls, Kie startled Stella by speaking in a terrible British accent, “Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Pope swiveled around as Kie grinned and Stella shook her head in bemusement. “’Cause it might mess up my costume.”

Pope chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked and Stella stepped forward with a laugh, slapping her hand against his, front and back, before ending with a snap of her fingers. Their handshake. As he repeated the act with Kie, Pope added, “That accent was bad.”

Kie nodded. “It was. I was gonna let it go.”

Stella scoffed. “I wish you had,” she said as they came to stand next to Pope, arms folded across her chest. The three of them observed the scene before them, of all the guests gathered around in their fancy dresses and suits, drinking from flutes of champagne or drinks from the bar. “You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?”

“Yeah. Last year,” Pope answered.

Kie was squinting against the sun, but just like Stella’s, her brown skin glowed a pretty golden color against it. “We’re in the lion’s den.”

“Exactly.”

Pope glanced at the two of them, gaze lingering on Stella longer as he asked, “Have you heard from JJ?”

Kie shook her head. “No.”

“Just a text,” Stella answered, prompting Kie to look towards her, raising an eyebrow. Stella’s lips pursed. “He said he was okay and not to worry about him. But I won’t really believe it until I see him.”

“He’ll be all right,” Kie said, frowning to herself. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Stella swallowed inaudibly. Kie wasn’t really wrong.

“It’s all my fault,” Pope said, the guilt thick in his tone as he frowned at nothing. He looked like he might be sick over everything that’s happened.

Stella frowned as Kie said, “Uh, you didn’t do this, Pope.”

“Yeah,” Stella chimed in firmly. “Topper almost killed you. Remember?”

He shot her a dry look. “Not something I can forget.”

Stella shot him a small smile. “JJ was just trying to do right by you. He—he knew what he was doing.” She stumbled over her words briefly because, well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed them. She believed that JJ thought he was doing the right thing, but getting arrested was no small thing. He was just adding onto his record, and this time for something he didn’t even do. JJ put loyalty above anything else, and it was one of her favorite things about him—until it landed him in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

Midsummers, as expected, was boring as usual. The adults drank and the teens snuck in their own alcohol in hidden flasks, dancing to the music from the live band while almost everyone kissed Ward Cameron’s ass. Stella stuck by Kie’s side, mostly because she didn’t care for anyone else there and because Kie kept glaring at Sarah Cameron, who looked like the perfect Kook princess. She was missing her not-so-Prince Charming, Topper, who seemed to be sticking by Rafe and Kelce’s sides than with Sarah. Hmm. Interesting.

At one point, Stella excused herself to go to the bathroom, walking inside the country club and down the hall. She did her business, ignoring the giggles of the few other girls inside as she washed her hands. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, however, she let out a gasp and stumbled into the doorframe as a figure rushed off in front of her, her gaze instantly following.

She’d recognize those blonde locks anywhere.

Stella’s heart thundered, gripping the doorframe tightly as she called out, “JJ?”

*****

Despite the severity of needing to find a hiding spot or escape, the sound of Stella’s voice had JJ stopping in his tracks. He turned, catching sight of her down the hall, too far down the hall, looking every bit as breathtaking as he expected her to in a golden dress that hugged her so perfectly. And the way she was looking at him—the surprise and relief and tenderness he was sure she reserved just for him—had JJ’s heart pounding right out of his chest, and not just because he was trying to save himself at the moment.

“Stella—” JJ stopped, looking through the glass of the doors, seeing Rafe, Kelce, and three of their suited up buddies purposefully making their way over. “Shit.” His blue eyes met her concerned brown ones. “Sweetheart, I’ll explain everything later, but I gotta run right now. Just—I’ll see you in a little, okay?”

“Wait, JJ—”

But he didn’t stick around, as much as he wanted to, and instead turned and ran off just as he heard Rafe and his buddies walk in. They’d spotted him talking to Sarah because he’d needed to give her a letter from John B, after he’d spoken to and received a surprising hug from Pope, and now they were hot on his ass looking to throw more punches. JJ’d already received a beating from his dad—he didn’t need anymore, thank you very much.

Except he made his way into the men’s room, and Rafe and his buddies were pretty fast and managed to corner him no problem. Five against one—this was totally fair. Assholes.

Rafe pushed him and JJ grunted, struggling as Kelce came up behind him and locked an arm around the front of his neck, the other keeping his head in place as JJ grabbed at Kelce’s arm to loosen the grip. He struggled, heart pounding, as Rafe looked at his friends. “Hold him still. What—what do you think? A four iron, right?” He mimicked holding a golf club. “Keep his head still. I’m gonna line this up.”

JJ didn’t make it easy for Kelce to keep him still. “Very Rafe of you,” JJ said through gritted teeth. “Five on one?”

Rafe looked pristine in his stupid blue suit and bowtie. JJ hoped he’d choke on it. “If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful. I’m trying to hit a ball.” Oh, fuck no. “Learn your etiquette, my friend.”

JJ kept grunting, struggling against Kelce, using his hands as much as he could to try and get away. JJ’s voice was hoarse against Kelce’s grip as he spat back, “I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” As much fire as there was in his voice, JJ wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Not when the odds were stacked against him.

Rafe smirked sardonically, crouching to look up at JJ with a mocking sort of sympathy. “Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

The insult was grating, especially given that the bruises and cuts on his face were courtesy of his father. JJ couldn’t do much more than spit in Rafe’s face. He jerked back, wiping the saliva off his face as he grinned. “Oh, shit. Alright. It was—”

The lights began flickering. “Gentlemen!” Kelce roughly let go of JJ and pushed him off, prompting the blonde to struggle before he righted himself. The security guard approached them. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue. I just—” JJ cut himself off, his breathing labored as he panted to catch his breath. He looked at the others and JJ ran his fingers through his hair before deciding on a different course of action. One he knew would likely get him out of this. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep!” He waved a finger around. “Call it in, right?” The others looked at him, trying to appear casual and like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Blatant disrespect for private property.”

Rafe clicked his tongue, scratching his ear. “Yeah.”

JJ turned to the guard. “I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir, but these young gentlemen—” He made a show of righting Kelce’s bowtie before he jerked him away.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce said lowly.

JJ continued, “Uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do.” He held his fists up like he was ready to be handcuffed. Again. “Escort me out of here. You got me.”

The guard grabbed his arm. JJ was relieved. “Come on.”

“All right.” JJ looked over his shoulder as the guard pulled him out, looking at the Kooks. “Fix that tie, son,” he said to Kelce before looking at Rafe. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun,” he turned back around.

Rafe took a step forward, his voice smug. “Tell Stella she looks pretty hot for a scarred Pogue.”

Fire erupted in JJ’s veins at Rafe’s comment, a newfound anger rushing through him at the blatant insult from the son of a bitch. JJ didn’t care who they were—nobody talked about Stella like that. Not at all, not in front of him. JJ’s body moved at his own accord, a low growl escaping him as he jerked away from the guard and tried to launch himself at Rafe, consequences be damned of a five against one. The asshole insulted Stella. JJ couldn’t just let him get away with that.

He rushed towards Rafe, only for Kelce to jump in and push him away as the guard came to his back and pulled him away. “Hey! Stop it. Come here! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

But JJ struggled, the urge to bury his fist in Rafe’s face overwhelming after his words. “You think I’m afraid of you, bro?”

The guard pulled him back. “Come on.”

JJ turned and was guided out as Rafe’s voice followed him out of the locker room. “Hey, safe travels back to the cut!”

JJ shouted back, “This ain’t over!”

The guard didn’t let his grip on JJ go as he guided him down the halls and towards the doors, his grip tight as they burst through the doors out onto the patio. “Look, man, I can walk myself!” JJ exclaimed, earning gasps and looks from the guests at him being escorted out. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

The guard didn’t seem to care. “Come on.”

“I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.” He struggled against the guard’s grip before spotting the older gentleman from earlier who had asked JJ for a drink. At this point, JJ didn’t care for the attention he was drawing on himself, stumbling over to where the man stood. “Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that,” he said quickly before grabbing the drink and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

The man gaped at him, the guard apologized before pulling JJ away. Everyone was watching, murmuring, and JJ never had mastered the art of subtlety, so he made a commotion as he was so kindly escorted out. Might as fucking well go out with a bang.

“Let go of him!” JJ turned at the sound of Stella’s voice, standing up on the patio with Kie by her side. Their parents were behind them, quietly telling Stella to stay quiet while her gaze met JJ’s. He stopped, kind of fucking mesmerized by the sight of her. “You can’t just boot him!”

The guard stopped, still holding onto JJ, who was still watching her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“I invited him here,” Stella continued, her voice loud and carrying over the newfound silence amongst the crowd. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn’t seem to give a shit, and JJ kind of fell in love with her all over again.

Next to her, JJ could hear her mom say, “Stella, stop it.”

“No, she’s right,” Kie spoke up, glaring at her parents and then at the guard. “We’re members of this club.”

“Girls, stop it,” Mr. Carrera seemed to be saying to them.

JJ took the opportunity of the guard being distracted to jerk out of his grip and push him, wincing as the man went stumbling into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses that went shattering on the ground. “Sorry about that!” JJ said over the commotion before looking towards the girls. He pointed at them, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, ladies.” His gaze found Pope’s amidst the crowd’s. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll.” He was walking backwards, people making their way for him as they all gaped at him in disbelief and annoyance. JJ looked back at the girls, holding his arm up. “All right, girls, come on.” He gripped his wrist. “Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

His gaze met Stella’s, who was watching him in, what he realized with relief, was amusement. He saw the looks she and Kie exchanged, a silent communication going on between the twins while their parents most definitely murmured warnings at them. And then, much to JJ’s relief, Stella and Kie broke away before running down the stairs.

JJ grinned widely, finally facing John B, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin. “Colonel.”

John B returned the salute JJ offered him. “Captain.”

JJ grinned. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

John B laughed as JJ shouted for the girls, watching as Pope pulled off his apron and handed it to his dad before running towards John B and JJ, all the while Mr. Heyward yelled, “Don’t do this! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

But Pope didn’t listen, instead high fived John B and JJ, before John B ran off ahead and the two of them faced the girls running over, as well. Kie and Pope ran side by side, laughing, and JJ opened his arms so Stella could run into his embrace, and he laughed into her neck as he lifted her off the ground with a spin before setting her down, grasping her hand in his, and following the others as they ran.

“Later, losers!” John B shouted over his shoulder towards the partygoers.

Stella was laughing, the sound brilliant and wonderful in JJ’s ears as Kie cheered while they ran. JJ couldn’t help but laugh as well. It may have been a shitty couple of days, but at least he had his friends.

*****

The fire crackled between them as Stella sat on a log next to JJ. The cicadas were chirping against the otherwise quiet of the night, and JJ had changed out of the waiter get up and was back in his signature hat, shirt, and shorts combo. The sight of the shark tooth necklace Stella had gifted him around his neck always made her chest tighten in the best way. She and Kie were still in their Midsummers dresses, but mosquitos and bugs never bothered Stella, so she sat comfortably as the fire warmed them.

She kept looking towards JJ, though—at the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight of him injured tightened her chest uncomfortably, made her stomach twist nauseatingly. No doubt his dad had done this to him, and it enraged her. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she could get him as far away from his dad as possible. It hurt, so badly, to see JJ injured at the hands of his abusive father. JJ, despite what others may see as faults and flaws, was probably the best person she knew. He had such a big heart, a soul that deserved to be loved and protected instead of stepped on and beaten. She desperately wished she could protect him from the cruelty of others. He deserved someone to do that for him.

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me,” Pope said as he and John B dropped some sticks to feed the fire before sitting down. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

Stella watched as John B looked at JJ, pointing at him as if he needed permission. JJ nodded. “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.”

John B smiled like he held some kind of secret. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at Kie and Stella.

The two girls nodded impatiently. “Yeah.”

The fire glowed against John B’s skin as he looked at all of them. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

Stella blinked as Pope groaned. “Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.”

Next to her, JJ sat up, holding out a calming hand to Pope. “No, all right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Pope and the girls.

John B had a finger to his lips before continuing, “It’s been here this whole time.” He looked to Kie. “It’s on the island.”

Her expression was one of shocked disbelief. “Are you serious?” She looked at John B before laughing in astonishment. “Oh, my God.”

Pope held up a hand. “I’d like to voice my skepticism.”

Stella was still trying to wrap her head around what John B said as he stood up. “I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Proceed.”

John B held up a piece of paper he pulled out from his bag, proceeding to tell them about a letter he had from Denmark Tanny, a slave who had survived the wreck of the Royal Merchant. He showed it to Pope and the girls, telling them that the slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but that his dad found the complete manifest—his big discovery. Stella listened attentively, mouth agape, looking towards JJ who nodded with a smile on his face. He knew all of this already, it seemed. It was probably why he and John B had been together earlier.

“So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom,” John B was saying. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is,” he paused dramatically as the group of them slapped their knees with their hands. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

Kie stopped. “Tannyhill?”

John B nodded, standing like a professor giving a lecture. “Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

John B had Stella’s attention as she hung onto his every word, shaking her head as she asked, “Where?”

John B grinned. “Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water.” He held up a hand. “Except, there is no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” He walked over to Pope, pointing at something in the paper Pope was holding. Stella leaned over to look as well. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.”

Kie laughed in disbelief as Pope murmured, “Holy shit.”

John B slapped his arm. “All we need is an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.”

He was grinning widely as JJ stood up. Pope slowly started, “Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.”

Kie bounced excitedly where she sat. “Dude, it’s like King Tut!” she exclaimed, earning a laugh from Stella.

“I am a genius,” John B announced, just as JJ tackled him into a hug. “Hey, whoa!” They teetered slightly where they stood before JJ lifted John B up. “Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.”

JJ pulled away and Stella snickered as he said, “I’m so proud of you right now.”

John B nodded somberly. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

With a shake of her head, Stella interrupted the moment by asking, “Okay, so, guys.” They all looked towards her. “What’s the plan?”

John B pointed at her as JJ made his way back. “Good question. Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring the original survey map—”

JJ sat down next to Stella just as her eyes widened, gaping at John B before her gaze instantly shot to Kie, who was frowning. “Hold on,” she interrupted. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

Stella tensed, looking between a bewildered Kie and a hesitant John B. She and Pope exchanged glances, both of them suddenly aware of the tension building in the open space. “Um—” John B trailed off.

JJ took off his head, muttering, “This is gonna be good.”

Stella looked at him, catching the wince he shot her way. Silently, she frowned at him, but JJ shook his head before nodding towards John B, who stood with his fists on his hips. “Sarah, um, she. . . She got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and there’s where I got the letter.”

Kie’s face scrunched up even more, looking a mix of pissed off and confused, while Stella gaped up at John B. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?”

John B’s throat worked. “Yeah, um. . .”

Next to her, JJ announced, “He was mackin’ on her.”

Stella gasped as she stared at him, wide eyed, and JJ nodded somberly while Pope coughed uncomfortably into his fist. Across the fire, Kie was glaring up at John B, and Stella hated the betrayal she could already see melting into Kie’s eyes. John B shot JJ a glare. “I wasn’t macking.”

JJ lifted his chin, unrelenting. “You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

He wasn’t helping the situation, so Stella lightly flicked his arm, prompting JJ to immediately look at her, pressing his cut lips together to keep himself from smirking. She narrowed her eyes in warning, and all JJ did was link their arms together and pull her to his side.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay?” John B spoke up, exasperated. “I was using her for access.”

JJ scoffed lightly. “There was access, alright.”

Stella pinched his side at that, despite the inappropriate laugh threatening to burst. Kie wouldn’t appreciate it, and Stella could tell her twin was seconds away from pushing John B into the fire. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie demanded.

John B’s eyes widened. “I was trying to get into the archives.”

Kie’s voice grew loud with disbelief. “Is that a yes?”

“I. . . I left out key details,” John B said, looking to the others for help. Stella pressed her lips together, pressed up against JJ. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, not with the current situation going on. Poor John B wasn’t going to get help on this.

“Yo, what?” Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the T-shirt company, bro?”

Suddenly, it was a battle between Kie and John B, and all Stella, JJ, and Pope could do was sit on the sidelines silently and watch. “I was just using her for information,” John B tried.

Kie shot him a wry look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

John B was growing exasperated already, shaking his head at the unhelpfulness of the others before looking back at Kie. “I’m trying to make us filthy rich here, okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or. . . or, uh. . .” He looked towards Pope, “send you to autopsy school to study bed bodies.” Stella’s face scrunched up as JJ suppressed a snort and Pope blinked owlishly. “Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

JJ blinked. “Uh—”

Stella tilted her head at John B. “Do you want us to answer that?” She could guarantee neither he nor Kie would appreciate the answer.

John B held up a hand at Stella. “Just—just stop.”

Kie shook her head, her jaw tight as she frowned deeply. “Look, you don’t know her yet. I do! You can’t trust her.”

Pope chimed in, “Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

John B looked to Pope. “Rafe and Sara are different human beings.”

JJ’s cheek was resting on top of Stella’s head as he asked Kie, “What did she do to you, exactly?”

Stella sighed. Oh, boy.

Kie held up two fingers and jabbed them forward. “She’s like a. . . a spitting cobra.” Everyone blinked, bewildered. “First she—she blinds you, and then—”

Stella was already shaking her head, sitting up straight as she said to her struggling sister, “This is a bad analogy.”

“Listen to me!” Kie exclaimed, clearly fed up with the situation. “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

Her words were met by silence, other than the crackling fire and chirping cicadas. John B stood quietly, throat working, clearly unsure of what to say as JJ and Pope stayed in their own awkward silence, too. Stella suppressed a sigh. It seemed as though it was up to her to smooth things over, even if she did slightly side with Kie in all of this. She didn’t have a begrudging hate towards Sarah like Kie did, but they were sisters, and Stella needed to show solidarity. But she could also, in some way, see John B’s side of things. God, this was gonna be tense.

“Kie,” Stella spoke up carefully, prompting Kie’s gaze to connect with hers. “Whatever John B promised Sarah, that’s his issue. But if she’s the only way we can get the map, then we need to let it happen.”

Kie’s jaw was hard. “I don’t want her involved. I don’t want to deal with her.”

“We won’t,” Stella said, glancing quickly at John B before looking at Kie again. “Let John B deal with her.” When Kie didn’t look entirely convinced, Stella let out a huff. “This is bigger than your beef with Sarah. I know you know that.”

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they all waited for Kie to respond. She sat quietly, hands gripping the log she sat on, mulling over Stella’s words. Stella, in turn, hoped she got through to her sister. They needed Kie to be on board with this, no matter her issues with Sarah. They’d already gotten this far in their treasure hunt—an old beef shouldn’t hinder them now.

Stella remained quiet, waiting for Kie to make a decision, although she silently enjoyed the sensation of JJ’s fingers ghosting up and down her arm, their arms still linked together. It was calming when others would argue JJ was anything but.

“Fine,” Kie finally gave in and everyone instantly sat up. She glared at John B. “As long as I don’t have to speak to her.” John B pressed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, his grin already forming. “I just hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

After John B profusely thanked Kie for agreeing, they killed the fire and got up before heading back to the van, since they had to drive to meet Sarah. The twigs and leaves crunched under their shoes as they went, but as Pope, Kie, and John B chatted while walking ahead, Stella lingered back and grasped JJ’s hand to slow his pace down.

He looked at her, eyebrows raising. “What’s up?”

Stella looked up at him, her fingers ghosting on his chin. Finally, she let the worry come out in full force as she asked, “Are you okay? Did—” she stopped, throat working to get rid of the lump that formed. “Did your dad do this?”

JJ’s jaw worked, blue eyes glimmering under the moonlight as he looked down at her. “Got a good chunk of money to pay in restitution,” he told her. “The old man’s not too happy about it.”

Despite herself, Stella felt the hot tears sting in her eyes. She preferred the pink in JJ’s cheeks when they were flushed when he was happy or even drunk—not the pink and harsh reds that surrounded the cuts and marked the bruises. Stella wasn’t sure she ever hated anyone as much as she hated JJ’s dad. Her throat was tight, unable to say anything except to croak out his name, “JJ—”

“Hey, hey,” he shushed her, hands coming up to cup Stella’s that had been ghosting along his sharp jaw. He held her hand in both of his before pressing a kiss to it, blue eyes locked in her brown. “I’m okay, Stel. They’ll heal. It’s no big deal.”

Stella scoffed, though her concern remained clear. “You can’t actually expect me to believe that.” The flutters in her stomach returned when JJ kissed her hand, when he looked at her with those baby blue eyes she loved so much. She let out a breath. “You’re sleeping over at John B’s, right?”

JJ offered her a small dimpled grin. “When am I not?”

Stella pinned him with a stare. They’d stopped walking and she knew they had to move soon, but she took a breath. “Whenever you can, either sleep at John’s or you sleep at mine. Okay?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, though she could see his gaze soften at her offer. But he kept the mood light as he teased, “You inviting me to your room, shark bait?”

Her heart jumped. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” Stella pointed out. It was the truth. They shared hammocks, chairs, couches, and beds countless times before.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” JJ questioned.

She looked at their hands before meeting his gaze again. “Is it?” she returned, throat working in anticipation. This was it. This was Stella asking JJ if whatever was happening between them was real, if something more was going to come out of it than a few kisses shared.

JJ’s gaze was intense, deep in a way she wasn’t used to as it stole her breath. “It is.” Steady, resolute, firm. No room for arguments. Thank fuckinf God.

Stella felt her grin appear before she could help it, relief warming her, and JJ mirrored her smile before ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt his cut lips. Her heart jumped excitedly as he kissed her, but it was cut short, unfortunately, when John B’s voice cut through the air.

“Oi! What happened to no macking?”

The two of them pulled apart, but John B was grinning, as were Pope and Kie as they looked at the two of them. Stella’s face flushed as JJ slung his arm around her shoulders before they began walking towards their friends. “I’m sure we can make an exception,” JJ said smoothly, cockily.

John B’s grin was wicked. “If it means you’ll finally stop whining about how much you looooove Stel, then yes we will.”

Stella laughed, cheeks flushing, while JJ spluttered. “I never whined!” he protested as they joined their friends.

Pope rolled his eyes. “That’s true. You just bottled it all up inside because you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sounds about right. I’m the one who made the first move,” Stella said, grinning widely at JJ’s betrayed expression, laughing as he used his arm around her to push her away. Stella continued laughing, along with the others, as she stumbled away, but didn’t lose her balance because JJ instantly caught her hand and pulled her back to his side.

“Whatever. I like an assertive woman,” JJ said with a charming grin, pressing a kiss to Stella’s temple as they neared the van.

Pointing at Pope and John B as they climbed inside, Kie said, “You two owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”

“No, we don’t!” John B argued as he started the van. “It’s after Midsummers.”

Pope nodded in agreement as Kie grinned wickedly before meeting Stella’s gaze as she sat on the back bench. With a giggle, Stella confessed, “It was actually yesterday. Before the summer movie series.”

John B and Pope’s gazes swung to JJ, who leaned back with his arms propped on top of the back bench casually as he said, “It’s true, boys.” John B shook his head and began driving, and JJ added, “Can’t believe you three bet on us.”

Sitting on the floor opposite of them, Pope scoffed. “Can’t believe it took you two this long to get together.”

“Okay!” Stella spoke up loudly, clapping her hands together once and shooting all of her friends a look. “We’re done talking about this.”

They reached their destination soon after that, a spot off in the middle of the woods where a tower stood, the apparent meeting spot John B had set up at Kildare Hawk’s Nest. As soon as he parked the car, Pope slid open the back van door as JJ slapped his knees. “Hit it, boys! We’re goin’. Recon mission.”

But before any of them could even get up, John B turned to face them. “Yo, uh. . . So, uh, I think I’m gonna do this one by myself. . . Tonight.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Kie rolled her eyes and Stella and JJ fell back in their seats. She raised her eyebrows as JJ drawled a knowing, “Really?”

John B frowned. “What?”

JJ took off his head. “Nothin’.”

John B sighed, fixing his own hat atop his head. “I don’t want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

Kie shrugged, voice sharp and annoyed as she looked at John B. “I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.”

Stella let out a sigh as she leaned back, JJ now sitting on the ground next to her, his head resting against her leg as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Kie, we’re not involving her, okay?” John B said, exasperated. “It’s—it’s just, uh, like a—a business meeting. . . Thing.” On the ground, JJ made a crude motion with the joint he held and made a gulping sound, prompting Pope to grin in amusement while Stella rolled her eyes at John B. He was not selling this well. “Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, all right? Plus, we need the map.”

Yeah, okay. Stella wasn’t quite sure how much she believed that.

Kie pursed her lips, leaning forward as she stared John B dead in the eye. “Promise me nothing’s happening between you two.”

John B widened his eyes, answering breathily, “Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay!”

Kie was still frowning, as if she was trying to get John B to get the message through her glare. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about us. This is about her.” Stella pressed her lips together as she watched them. Kie’s beef with Sarah was so damn deep, she wondered if they would be able to do with if she wasn’t on board with Sarah helping out just this once. Personally, Stella didn’t give a shit about Sarah Cameron; she just didn’t like her out of principle for the way the end of that friendship hurt Kie. Everything else was between Kie and Sarah. “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.”

John B looked at her as lightning flashed outside and thunder rolled. “I promise.”

“That was really believable,” JJ piped up.

Pope nodded. “A hundred percent believable.”

Stella lightly knocked JJ with her knee while glaring at Pope, effectively shutting both of them up. John B didn’t dignify them with a response, instead saying, “Anyways, um, I’m gonna take care of business.”

JJ shook his head, playing with the joint. “You’re gonna take care of it so well.”

Stella waved John B off dismissively. “We’ll just sit here,” she said dryly. “In the hot-ass car.”

Pope added, “While it’s lightning.”

They left the back door of the van open as John B got out, backpack on as he walked off towards the tower. The wind rustled outside, thunder rumbling every now and then to accompany the flashes of lightning that warned of a storm rolling in. “Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die,” Pope said once John B was gone.

“Exactly,” JJ nodded.

Kie shot the two of them a withering stare before looking at Stella. Her twin merely shrugged. “You know I’m on your side,” Stella said. “But you can’t really tell John B what he can or can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what to do,” Kie shot back. “I’m just warning him against the kind of person I know Sarah is. She’s gonna fuck us over.”

“Look, we just—we just gotta trust that John B knows what he’s doing,” Pope tried to placate, looking between Stella and Kie. “That he’s using his head.”

Kie scoffed, not really convinced. “I know what head he’s using, and it isn’t the one on his shoulders.”

“That’s a good one,” JJ mumbled quietly where he sat.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the rumble of thunder, before conversation started up again. Pope had asked about what happened at Midsummers, and JJ launched into the story that led up to the Kooks cornering him in the men’s room while they waited for John B to return with the map.

JJ was saying, “Rafe and Kelce followed me—”

Kie cut him off. “Wait, do you guys hear that?” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sh.”

Stella frowned. “What?”

And then, in the distance, over the sound of the wind howling and thunder rumbling, came a girl’s voice yelling, “Please, somebody, help!”

All of their eyes widened, instantly on their feet as JJ grunted, “Oh, wait, no, I hear that.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed as they all stumbled out.

“What the fuck?” Stella muttered, gripping the skirt of her dress so it didn’t get tangled in her feet as she ran.

The voice, Stella realized, belonged to Sarah, and her heart started pounding as they ran towards the Hawk’s Nest, throat already drying in worry. The first thought in her head was that something went terribly wrong, that John B was hurt, and when they all cleared a group of trees towards the base of the Nest, Stella’s fear came true as a gasp ripped through her at the sight of John B lying on the ground, Sarah crying as she cradled his head and begged for him to wake up and open his eyes.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope asked as they came running over, skidding to a stop, their breathing labored.

Sarah was crying, and Stella’s heart clenched at the sight of John B, unconscious, fear drenching her veins in ice as she instantly gripped Kie’s hand. “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah sobbed. “He needs help. Topper shoved him.”

Anger heated Stella’s skin, momentarily taking over the terror trembling her body as JJ demanded, “Where the hell is he?”

But Sarah just cried, “Oh, please, please, please get help. I don’t care who. Just call someone.”

Stella pushed Pope away as she panted, “Go! Call 911! Go!”

Pope took off and Kie shouted after him, “Pope, hurry!”

They all stood, breathing labored and hearts pounding, unsure of what to do as their friend lay unconscious. Worry weighed heavily on them all, to the point where Stella couldn’t even stop to question the way Sarah was holding John B to her, crying for him, kissing him and begging for him to wake up. No, nothing else mattered other than their injured friend, the tears stinging in Stella’s eyes as she prayed to anyone who was listening that he would wake up. Soon. Now. Please.

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jessie-writes-things · 3 years

Text

Pain is Inevitable.

This is kinda lifted from the novel I'm working on. The character, ironically also called Benny, is in the middle of an apocalypse and suffers from mental health stuff. I changed some stuff to fit better with the quote, swapped out the main character for a reader insert, and voila!

Also, I don't know why but I think the tenses are a bit off with this one? But it's a first draft so we're just gonna ignore that. 😅

Pairing: Benny Miller (Triple Frontier) x Neutral Reader

Words: 500

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Mental health, panic/anxiety attack.

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” – Haruki Murakami, What I talk about when I talk about Running.

---

Breathing is hard when his lungs are on fire. Each inhale igniting a new match until smoke rose from the flames, suffocating him from the inside.

It was worse than drowning, he guessed. He had never actually drowned before. But at least with drowning there was an end. At some point his chest would overflow with water, stop his heart. At least he’d be dead and wouldn’t have the feel the pain of trying to push out another strangled breath.

But, then again, who was to say this wasn’t the end? Maybe his heart would beat a little faster, another hundred beats and maybe it’ll finally give in after all because, really, how long could a heart go at this rate? Thirty minutes? An hour, tops?

Why won’t this pain stop?

The bed creaks, the mattress dipping behind him. A shadow dances on the wall and he can’t stop watching, silhouettes by the grainy TV playing across the dark room, looming over him like Death in all those movies he’s ever watched and he’s left wondering is this it? Finally? Did his body do something right for once?

‘You doing okay?’ Concern laced your voice though you were trying to hide it.

Could you see the smoke? The thick, black clouds pooling from his ears and nose? Seeping like a house on fire as it desperately clung to its foundations? Flames like dragon’s breath, screaming for help while everyone ran in the opposite directions to grab their pitchforks?

Would you be scared? Would you grab your sword like the rest of them, slay the dragon before it got too big to handle?

‘Ben?’

‘I’m alright.’ No, you’re not. Why would you lie like that? Right to their face, of all things.

‘You haven’t moved in half an hour.’

‘I’m okay.’ See, he even turned back and smiled. May have been a bit wobbly, eyes a bit red as he squinted against the harsh light, but it was proof he was okay. Right?

And either way, you nodded, flashing your own weak little smile that didn’t match the saddened look in your own eyes. ‘Okay.’

You fell into bed next to him, going still and he imagined you staring at the ceiling or watching the sketchy pictures on the screen, Alien or some other movie he couldn’t quite make out from the shitty quality, but hey, it worked and it did enough of a job covering the sound of his pulse hammering in his chest.

The bed creaks, sheets rustling and you’re pressed up against his back. You’re not asleep, he can tell by the way you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, pressing small kisses along the burning skin of his back. He doesn’t really think as he brings your hand to his heart, holding onto you for dear life because at least it reminds him he’s not burning from the inside out.

#jessie writes #triple frontier #triple frontier angst #benny miller #benny miller angst #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fanfic

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theoriginalladya · 3 years

Text

A Constant Wish

Summary: An anniversary, but not of the enjoyable kind. Nine years on, and Commander Shepard is still dealing with the fallout from Akuze. It's up to Kaidan Alenko to guide him through it.

Tags: Sole Survivor, survivor’s guilt, death, grief, Akuze, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, mshenko

Characters: Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko

NOTE: Four years ago today, my mother lost her battle with cancer. Today, even though I knew the date in my head, it didn't connect until my youngest brother mentioned something in our family text chat. It hit me like a ton of bricks, just as it did then. I've learned to move on, to keep going, to keep living, but this day each year is always the hardest fucking day to get through. And so I wrote this with her in mind for my Caleb Shepard who has his own ghosts to deal with.

Love you, Mom.

A daily thought, a silent tear, A constant wish that you were here

~~~~

Kaidan wakes suddenly, inexplicably, to darkness and the sense that something isn’t quite right. Not a nightmare, not someone waking him with a touch or a sound, but that unerring feeling that something is just… off. It isn’t panic so much as a general unease, but he’s used to listening to his gut these days; it’s saved his life or that of a squadmate or even Shepard himself more than once.

Shepard.

Rolling over, he discovers the bed is empty but for him. That sends his heart racing faster than he expects and he nearly falls face first to the floor as he scrambles out from beneath the covers. The time it takes to yank on his sweats and a t-shirt seems an eternity, but he is fully aware thanks to the cold flooring beneath bare feet.

A thorough search of the upper part of the apartment finds nothing out of the ordinary. The side note to that is he also fails to locate Shepard. Granted, he still has half the apartment to investigate, but the fact he cannot find a recent trace of his presence is a bit disconcerting.

He descends to the lower level and begins by checking the back room. Empty. Next, the living room and the bar. Also, empty. The lights in the kitchen are dim, just the way they left them when they headed upstairs after dinner. Still no sign of the man.

Kaidan tacks his way across to the opposite set of stairs to head back up – maybe he missed him in passing? As he walks past the hall branching off to his right into the den, habit has him glancing that direction. In front of the faint flickering fire light, he catches a silhouette; a familiar shape seated at the poker table, hunched over, glass in hand. Unease morphs to concern and curiosity, and he pads down the hallway, calling out softly as he reaches the doorway, “Shepard? You okay?”

The silhouette jerks suddenly as if startled, then relaxes with an exhale of breath. “I’m fine, mo ghrá.”

Kaidan takes the response as an invitation to join him, and he slides into a seat at the table. “Drinking alone? In the dark? Gonna have to do a better job of convincing me you’re fine,” he challenges, albeit gently.

Shepard huffs; a soft sound and one nearly drowned out by the pop and crackle of the fire. He sets the glass on the table, rises to his feet, and walks over to the small bar in the corner. Within moments, he returns with a bottle and a second glass. This he fills and pushes towards Kaidan, then tops off his own before reclaiming his seat. “Not alone now, am I?” he asks, setting the bottle down with a heavy thud next to what look to be four playing cards.

From his position and in the dimly lit room, Kaidan can’t tell which ones they are. However, knowing Shepard as he does, he can guess their purpose. Why are you down here drinking and doing card readings in the darkest hours of the night?

Taking the glass in both hands, he pulls it close but does not drink just yet. Before anything else, he wants, needs, some answers. “What are we drinking to?”

“Not what,” Shepard declares, blue eyes piercing through the dark to meet Kaidan’s as he lifts his head, “who.”

Kaidan acquiesces with a slight cant of his head. “All right. Who?”

Shepard lifts his glass in salute. “Sergeant Angela Nevarra.”

Kaidan frowns. The name sounds hazily familiar; he’s heard it before but cannot place it.

“Sergeants Carter, Evans and Decatur,” Shepard continues, clearly not expecting a response. “Corporals Harris, Simmons, Grassini, Aoki, and Meijer. Malik, Masterson, Owens, Jenson, Weston, Alvarez…”

Kaidan listens in silence but keeps his eyes on Shepard’s face as he continues to list them off. As the list gets longer, comprehension dawns. Shepard stops reciting names at forty-eight and the quiet surrounds them again. Cautiously, Kaidan asks quietly about one name that was not mentioned. “What about Toombs?”

“Toombs.”

There is a hint of brutality in the way Shepard says the name which Kaidan doesn’t quite understand. For everyone else associated with Akuze, there is a fondness, a reverence almost in the way their former commander speaks of them, but with Toombs, it’s different. “That’s his name, isn’t it? The one we ran into on Ontarom? Back –”

Shepard tosses back the last of his whiskey, swallows it in a large gulp, and shakes his head sharply once. “Aye, I remember.” He slams the glass onto the table with enough force the platform quakes for a moment. “Heard from him last year, did I ever tell you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Kaidan shakes his head anyway. The time they’ve spent together since his recovery, since the war began, they’ve avoided the more… controversial topics. Not that Kaidan blames him for not bringing it up; it’s probably just as well.

With a soft snort, Shepard grabs the bottle and pours another two-fingers worth of whiskey. This is the third drink Kaidan is aware of, and he can’t help but wonder how many Shepard drank when he was alone, before Kaidan found him.

Their eyes meet again, and the look in them… Well, Kaidan understands now just why the man’s name in Irish is sealgaire, the hunter. It’s all Kaidan can do to hold his ground. And, that is knowing that the look isn’t directed at him.

Shepard’s scowl is dark and foreboding as he tosses back this drink, and there is a vehemence in his voice Kaidan has only heard maybe twice since he’s known him. “Threaten me without knowing what happened?” the commander bites out. “Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha! Go hifreann leat!”**

Kaidan reacts immediately, reaching forward and prying the glass from Shepard’s long fingers. “Okay, Shepard, that’s enough. I’m calling time for the night.”

Shepard struggles momentarily, apparently not satisfied, but a moment later releases his hold. Sighing heavily, he covers his face with his hands. “Tá brón orm,”**

Kaidan pushes the glasses and bottle across the table and out of easy reach and moves to crouch beside him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shepard’s hands drop away, and when the blue eyes meet his again, Kaidan recognizes the truth. His mother once told him that if an Irish man or woman expressed true sorrow for something, there would be matching sadness in their eyes. The sheer magnitude of the sorrow he sees in Shepard’s gaze just now is enough to level the Reapers and end the war three weeks ago, he thinks. He reaches over and runs a hand along Shepard’s cheek in a gentle caress of understanding. “Hey.”

Shepard leans into the touch, eyes closing. When they open again the sorrow still lingers, but not with the same intensity. Without the glass before him to toy with, he reaches for the playing cards lying face up. “D’you see these?”

Kaidan spares them a glance, tilting his head to get a better look. “Did you do another reading?”

“Aye,” Shepard agrees, “but not tonight. These… This was my reading that night. On Akuze, before the attack.”

Past – Two of Spades.

Present – Ten of Spades.

Future – King of Clubs.

Crossing Present – Ten of Diamonds.

None of it makes much sense to Kaidan – it never has – so he looks expectantly at Shepard. When he remains silent, Kaidan asks, “What did they tell you?”

Shepard pauses for a moment, turning his head to look straight at Kaidan. “That my world was going to go all to hell once again, but that this time, on the other side, I would find a path to my future…”

Kaidan looks at the cards again. He recognizes the King of Clubs – it comes up often in Shepard’s readings, though Kaidan isn’t aware of any special attachment to it. The rest he can’t tell of he’s seen in readings before or not. Shepard’s hand flops onto Kaidan’s shoulder, his fingers toying with his hair near his collar. When Kaidan smiles back, Shepard’s eyes flare with an intensity that might be unsettling under other circumstances, but thanks to recent events in their lives, he has a much better idea of how to deal with.

Rising to his feet, he sighs. Any further explanation on the cards can wait until the man is sober again. “Come on, we need to get you back to bed, I think.”

Shepard follows without comment or question, and, surprisingly, without stumbling. When they reach the stairs, Shepard surprises Kaidan by sliding his arms around his waist and hugging close to his back, resting his head on his shoulder. “You understand, aye?”

Already a step above the man, Kaidan stops and half turns to face him. The question is very open-ended and he cannot miss the obvious pain. It isn’t difficult to guess what he is referencing. “About Cerberus?” Shepard nods. Sighing softly, Kaidan wraps one arm over Shepard’s at his waist, and tilts his head close enough to ghost a quick kiss across his lips. “Do you honestly think I would be here now if I didn’t?”

Shepard’s face screws up in confusion for a moment, an endearing look Kaidan doubts the commander would ever agree with if he is made aware of it, so Kaidan keeps the observation to himself. Running his free hand over Shepard’s cheek again, he clarifies quietly, “Yes, mo shearc,** I understand. You are not them; you never were.”

Hope wars with uncertainty behind those blue eyes; it’s strange to see Shepard this vulnerable, and a little disconcerting. How much is the drink and how much just… is?

“You really believe that?”

Kaidan nods. “Aye, I do,” he replies, echoing Shepard’s usual response and leaning in for another kiss. “Now, come on. You need to sleep this off. We can talk more about it later if you like.” Though, as they ascend the stairs together, he is pretty certain it won’t ever come up again anytime soon. Perhaps this time next year, but not before. At least now, Kaidan is prepared.

~~~~

** mo ghrá = my love

** Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha! = A breaking and crushing on your bones!

**Go hifreann leat! = To hell with you!

** Tá brón orm = I’m sorry

** mo shearc = my love

#A Constant Wish #Ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #mShenko #Kaidan Alenko #tw: grief #tw: death #Sole Survivor #survivor's guilt #emotional hurt/comfort #Akuze #angst #mass effect fanfiction

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recollins · 4 years

Text

On Three (Spencer Reid x Reader)

You’re strapped to a bomb and Spencer stays with you until they can get it defused. Pairing: Spencer x Neutral Reader Words: 5,383 Content: Angst Warnings: Bombs/explosives A/N: I know exactly nothing about actually defusing bombs. I did as thorough of a Google search as I could but don’t hold it against me if this isn’t totally accurate. Masterlist

This is the last time I ever stop and offer to help someone after I clock out, you think bitterly, cursing the engrained manners you’d been brought up with. Man, if you got the chance, you’d make sure your parents never heard the end of it. Yeah, they had a point – being polite definitely had gotten you somewhere in life, but this is not where you’d ever wanted to end up.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Shane sighed, tightening the strap on the vest he’d just wrestled onto you. Your vision was still swimming from the hit to the head he’d given you, but fear had you blinking away the blurring and struggling to sit up.

“Then let me go,” you croaked, voice still raw from screaming as he’d dragged you through the halls of the office you both worked at. Shane tsk’d and gave a placating pat to your cheek. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, [y/n], we are,” he agreed, sitting back on his haunches to study his handwork. “And this is what friends do. Help each other out.”

“Friends don’t blow each other up!” you snapped, and instantly the fear was bubbling in your chest again. Fresh tears started to fall as you look at him desperately, reigning in the panic to try and appeal to the human side of him you prayed was buried underneath the heaping pile of batshit crazy. “Please. I’ll – I’ll give you whatever you want. I have some money saved up, I can withdraw it –“

“Don’t insult me. I don’t want money,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he pushed to his feet. “I want all of you sons of bitches to pay for thinking you could fire me. Fire me. I hold this damn company together. And you see? Now it’s all gonna fall apart. Literally.”

The cold, heartless edge to his words set your stomach churning, and the sharp glint in his eye confirmed what you’d been fearing: he wasn’t letting you go.

“I didn’t fire you, Shane. What did I ever do to you?” you whispered, dropping your head back against the railing he’d chained you to. Shane simply shrugged, scooping up the duffel bag at your side and stepping over your legs as he slung it over his shoulder.

“You screwed me over, and then you stripped me of my job. Been here ten years, [y/n], and that’s what you’re gonna do to me?”

“Shane I didn’t do that. I - I’m just the secretary! I just transfer the calls and order takeout!”

“Now you can add bomb-holder to that embarrassingly short resume. For the brief time it’ll matter.” As you met his eyes, honestly not believing he could be this sadistic this effortlessly, he leaned down and hit a button on the front of the vest and instantly it started ticking. The sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Shane gave your shoulder one last squeeze before he started off into the shadows. “Like I said, [y/n], I’m sorry.”

You sat in petrified silence for several long, tense moments after you heard the door close down the hall. Completely alone now, desolate fear and despair began to rise up, crash over you like waves breaking relentlessly over the unsuspecting sand. With each pass they grew stronger, colder, threatening to drag you down into the dark depths they rose from.

No, no. You couldn’t let yourself sink right now. Deep breath, [y/n]. Come on. Okay, granted, you were just the secretary for a small insurance agency, and you had no idea how to diffuse a freaking bomb, but you had to do something. There was no way you were just sitting here letting yourself be a victim.

Desperately, your shaking hands tore at the vest, careful not to disturb the mechanism on front. From this angle you couldn’t see if there was a timer, couldn’t see the wires to even begin to pretend like you knew what to do if you found them… maybe the straps? Your fumbling fingers felt around your sides, and there! There was the buckle! For several moments you tried to pull it free, but it wouldn’t budge. Another few moments went to trying to twist yourself around just to see…

Your heart sunk. Shane had tampered with the buckle, managing to secure a padlock through it that, of course, connected to the chains that held you in place. You and the vest were all tied together in a pretty metallic bow. Fucking fantastic. The guy couldn’t figure out how to properly fill out his damn timecard, but he could apparently MacGyver a homemade bomb vest to you.

Okay, new plan: the vest wasn’t coming off of you, so you’d have to come off the railing with it. You could do that. Right? Experimentally you moved to the chains. Shane had connected you to the obnoxiously solid railing that lined the walkway above the first floor, looping it around your upper arms so tight you couldn’t lift them up. You tried shimming your shoulders to work them up, but with how he’d attached the chain to the vest, all you were doing was wearing yourself out.

Fine, new new plan: you’d just fucking rip yourself either out of the vest or off the rails. You couldn’t really get your feet under you for leverage, but damn if you didn’t throw yourself forward, praying the bars would bend, or the straps of the vest would break, or you’d knock loose a secret key he’d left stashed on your body he’d forgotten about…

Nothing. You weren’t budging. Seriously, couldn’t you catch a break and find a loose railing you could snap off? Maybe the lock could jimmy loose if you tugged enough, or maybe you’d find a way to untangle yourself, get free… something! Couldn’t you catch a fucking break? I mean come on, you paid your taxes! You’d switched to a reusable water bottle instead of plastic ones! You made so many donations to the zoo last year you’d earned a membership –

You stilled at the thought and slumped back against the rails, ragged breath catching in your heaving chest. Your membership. You wouldn’t get to use your membership. Out of all the things running through your mind, that’s what finally broke you. God, that membership had been something you’d been working for, something that you’d been building up to all last year. As dumb as it was, you were really looking forward to using it. You got free admission all year long, you got a free meal with every visit, you got a cool little badge you’d pinned proudly to the visor in your car…

Now it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. You would be dead before you got your official membership card in the mail. You were going to die on the floor of this godforsaken call center, chained to a fucking indestructible fence, in a jerry-rigged bomb vest, completely alone. Your sobs echoed around the empty building painfully loud, bouncing back as if they were mocking your last moments, nearly drowning out the click of a door down the hall.

Wait. Door.

DOOR.

“H-hello?” you called, voice pathetically small in the wake of your still-echoing cries. You saw a figure coming around the corner to your right and your heart leapt up. Had Shane come back?! “Shane? Is that you?”

The man that stepped into the dim light of the walkway was definitely not Shane. He crept slowly down the hall, gun held in front of him, making a slow progression towards you as he studied the surroundings. It was dark enough you were probably no more than a lump on the ground,

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’m with the FBI,” he called to you, and instantly you struggled to sit up straighter. FBI? How the hell – “Are you alright?”

“Um, no,” you admitted, and as he started to close in on you, you realized he had no idea what he was walking towards. “Wait! No, stop, you – you should stay back. It’s a bomb.”

Dr. Reid paused just ten feet from you; the light from the lower level was just enough you could make out his features. He was admittedly handsome: short, tousled brown hair, a chiseled face with full lips and a killer jawline, all packed onto a tall, lean frame… in any other setting you’d be blushing and smiling and desperately trying to see if he was interested in drinks Friday night.

Right now, you were so relieved to see a friendly face, have someone there with you, all you could do was stare up at him as tears ran down your face.

“Is anyone else with you?” Dr. Reid asked, squinting further down the hall as he started towards you again. Had he not heard the thing about the bomb!?

“No. I’m alone,” you whispered. “Shane – he, uh, he put this on me. He went out the way you came in. Everyone else was gone for the night.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, relaxing his stance as he reached up to his vest to say quickly, “Morgan I’ve got a hostage strapped to a bomb on the second floor. We need bomb squad.”

As he tucked his gun into the holster on his hip you sniffed and repeated,

“You should get back. I – it’s been ticking for a while now. I don’t know how long it’ll be until it just –“ you cut off as another sob caught in your throat. Instead of listening to you, though, Dr. Reid closed the distance between you and sunk down onto a knee at your side.

“The bomb squad is on their way, and we’ll have you out of this soon,” he said softly. You looked up at him, tear-filled eyes flicking between his own, unable to understand why he wasn’t running the opposite direction. I mean, yeah, he was an FBI agent, but it was just the two of you. No one would know if he just turned tail and ran; you wouldn’t even hold a grudge at this point.

“If they’re on the way, you don’t need to stay. You’re in danger here with me, Dr. Reid,” you reminded again, trying to urge him to go. There was no point in letting both of you die. Dr. Reid studied you for a few moments and then asked,

“What’s your name?”

“[y/n],” you whispered; he smiled and rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You can call me Spencer, okay? And I’m not going anywhere, [y/n]. I’ll stay with you until the bomb squad gets you free, okay?” when you continued to look up him uncomprehending, he added softly, “I wouldn’t want to be strapped to a bomb all by myself, and I have a feeling you don’t want to be either.”

“No,” you admitted, another tear rolling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

Spencer quirked a smile, hand coming off your shoulder to tug a flashlight out of his pocket. He shone it on the vest as he tenderly poked and prodded the contraption Shane had activated.

After several moments of quiet investigation over the entire setup, Spencer sat back on his haunches, lips pressed together. Instantly you shifted under the chains as you struggled to sit up a little more.

“How bad is it?” you asked softly; Spencer shifted and folded his legs underneath him to sit in front of you.

“There’s no timing mechanism I can find, so I can’t say how long we’ve got,” he admitted, lips turning up into an apologetic smile. “Bomb squad should be here in a few minutes, though. We’ve just got to wait.”

“And what if it goes off before they get here?” you pressed, the knot of worry in your chest forcing the words before you could stop them. You were really trying not to be so negative, but could he blame you?

Spencer simply shrugged and said,

“We’ll deal with it if we get there.”

Despite the situation you let out a snort that dissolved into shaky giggles, rolling your eyes up; you caught a wry smile from the FBI agent in front of you.

“Sorry. That’s not funny. None of this is. I shouldn’t laugh at that,” you snickered, shaking your head. Spencer gave a toothy smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“Laughter’s a completely normal reaction under intensely stressful situations. It enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain.”

Huh, cute and smart. Okay, for your last moments, you’d gotten pretty lucky. To your surprise, Spencer gave you an apologetic smile and ducked his head.

“I’m sorry. Facts and statistics are a passion of mine and I know they’re not comforting to others like they are to me.”

“No, I liked that,” you assured quickly. “I like learning new things, and I’m not exactly doing anything else right now.”

This time is was his turn to laugh, which got another giggle out of you. As you both fell quiet again he cleared his throat.

“You asked if I was Shane. Is that who did this?” you nodded quickly. “Shane Michaels, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“My team and I, we’re the Behavior Analysis Unit within the FBI. Our job is to profile criminals in order to catch them. Shane Michaels was on the short list of suspects -”

“Wait. Were you... this is tied to the bombing at the truck driving academy, isn’t it?” you asked slowly, brow furrowing; Spencer nodded, watching you piece it together. “I’m a secretary here. We do commercial insurance for truckers mostly, Shane’s one of the sales agents. He... oh, god.”

The realization of what you’d just fallen into the middle of hit you hard enough to take your breath away. You squeezed your eyes shut, nausea and fear ebbing into your stomach, making you physically ill. A timid hand reached out and rested on your knee, getting your eyes to open.

“[y/n]?” Spencer coaxed, ducking down a hint to catch your eye.

“He uh... Shane had lost a lot of commission off of them but our agency refused to let him drop the company unless they wanted to. Or...”

“Or they were no longer in business,” Spencer finished, and you nodded as you swallowed hard. He saw the look on your face and you asked softly,

“Why’d he do this to me? I - we were friends, I thought. We’d worked here for years together. I know our boss was firing him for losing us money, but I was always nice to him. Why me?”

Spencer sighed, eyes dropping down for a moment like he was considering if he should answer you. His hand was still on your knee, and you managed to shift your arms enough to rest your fingers on top of his own to get his attention. When he lifted his gaze again, his expression softened. He could tell right now you wanted answers more than anything.

“Shane’s a classic narcissist. For him, the attempt at firing him was more than just the loss of a job. It was a direct blow to his ego, and he couldn’t let that go. Bombing the trucking company was just rage, just an outlet for his immediate anger. This agency was his main target all along. I don’t think he was specifically after you, I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I helped him do his stupid timecard every day,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. “I ordered him extra egg rolls with lunch. I - god. Instead of just walking past him tonight I stopped to help him carry his bags. I thought he was just cleaning out his desk, and then...” your eyes opened, more tears rolling down your cheeks. Spencer’s face was soft, gentle, filled with a deep understanding that somehow made you feel even less alone. He truly knew the terror you were in, the sadness, the confusion... “I should’ve just gone home. Just walked past him, driven straight home, heated up my leftovers.”

Spencer hmm’d and raised his brows.

“What’s for dinner?”

He was trying to take your mind off it all. Distract you. Keep the panic at bay as best he could when there was a chunk of explosives resting on your chest.

“This weird meatball casserole thing,” you started, the face you pulled unable to be helped at the memory of it. He laughed at the look and you explained, “I’m not the best cook, but I wanted to be creative. It’s... well, if I’m in a pinch I could probably use it to fix holes in my drywall.”

The honest, toothy smile he gave you got another unexpected giggle from you.

“I’m not that great of a cook either,” he admitted. “Usually I resort to take-out. I’m not adventurous enough to try my own creations.”

Now you were both giggling, the sound thankfully drowning out the incessant ticking for a few moments. When he met your eyes again, you found yourself admitting,

“Usually I do take-out too. I’ve been trying to save up money, though, so I’ve been getting ingredients on sale and then pretending I know what to do with them.” Spencer made a face and you nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that’s about how well it’s working out.”

“What are you saving for?” he asked, tipping his head to the side when he caught the instant embarrassment that lit up your face. “If it’s personal you don’t need to answer -”

“No, no. It’s... I like animals. A lot,” you admitted, clearing your throat. “I just earned a membership to the zoo, and... they have this program where you can sponsor an animal. Ever since I was little I really wanted to do something like that. I don’t make a ton here, so it’s been a slow process, but I almost have enough.”

To your surprise there was genuine intrigue on his face, and he studied you with what almost looked like admiration. Seriously, if you could get the eminent death device off of you, you’d really need to find out if he ever got some free time away from bombs and weird animal-obsessed insurance secretaries.

“I think that’s really neat,” he admitted, without a doubt pulling a blush out of you. “What animal do you want to sponsor?”

You gave a shrug of your shoulders and explained, “I can’t decide. Actually, I was gonna go to the zoo this weekend to look at them all. But now I...”

You cleared your throat and fell silent; the ticking seemed to get even louder just to mock you. Spencer’s hand, still on your knee, gave a gentle squeeze. You hadn’t noticed your lip was trembling until you tried to speak and only a whimper came out.

“We’ll get you out of here,” he promised, the assurance in his voice soothing the tight ache in your chest. You went to answer and without warning, the steady ticking of the bomb stopped.

You actually gasped, going completely still, eyes flicking between Spencer’s own startled gaze and the vest. The unearthly silence you’d plunged into brought on a wave of hope, and then loud, frenzied beeping began.

“What that? What’s happening?” you gasped, hands flying to the contraption on your chest in panic. Spencer was on his knees instantly, catching both your wrists in one of his hands while he leaned closer to study the vest.

“I don’t know - [y/n], hold still. Take a deep breath, okay? Let me look,” he instructed, voice gentle but commanding, putting the brakes on your alarm as you struggled to suck in a ragged breath. He was mumbling under his breath, soft brown eyes flicking over the vest, lips finally pressing together as he lifted his gaze to you.

“Please tell me,” you begged him; when he still didn’t answer, you managed to twist one of your hands over in his to squeeze his wrist. “Please.”

“The display is flashing red,” he described, leaning back a hint. “Nothing else has changed, but -”

“But this isn’t good,” you finished, fresh tears forming. Fast beeping? Flashing? It had to be about ready to go off. “Spencer, you need to leave. This is gonna go off and you’re -”

Spencer let go of your wrists, and before you could miss his warmth, his hand took firm hold of one of yours. He sunk a little lower in front of you to meet your gaze with a resolute, unwavering stare.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you.”

You clung to his hand, managing a nod, sucking in another shaking breath. You really didn’t want him to get hurt, but... you really didn’t want to be alone. Maybe that was selfish. I mean, this guy could die because of you, but the thought of having to sit through this alone was almost more frightening than the bomb.

Almost.

Spencer has his phone out a moment later, and he popped it onto speaker as it rang. Not a moment later it picked up and the person on the other end instantly said,

“Squads three minutes out, kid - what’s that beepin’?”

“It just started doing that,” Spencer rushed. “And it’s -”

“You’re still in there? Reid, Hotch told you to evacuate -”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to you and then back to the vest a heartbeat later; you caught sight of the headset he’d radioed in on earlier. He’d been told to leave, and he was still with you?

“Morgan, it went from ticking to beeping, and now it’s flashing red. I need you to walk me through what to do.”

“What?! No, kid, just wait for the squad. Do you know how dangerous -”

“I don’t think we have time for the squad,” he admitted, and instinctively your hand tightened on his. He met your eyes instantly and said softly to you, “Morgan’s studied how to defuse bombs and he’s the best chance we’ve got right now.”

“Spencer he’s right, you need to leave,” you begged, guilt and fear swirling inside of you. You tried to pull your hand free and his own tightened. “Just go. Why are you staying? You don’t even know me and this is gonna kill you -”

“It’s my job to protect those who need it,” he told you firmly, voice low with resolve. “I told you I’m staying, and I meant it. We’re going to figure this out together and you’re going to go to the zoo and find which animal you’re sponsoring. Okay?”

All you could manage was a whimper; Spencer squeezed your hand as he pressed,

“Okay, [y/n]?”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding and sucking in a shaking breath. Morgan gave a heavy sigh through the phone.

“We’re really doin’ this... okay. Kid, do you see any wires?”

“Just two, both feeding into the right side of the display. It looks like they attach to the explosive packs.”

“Okay. This is really important. [y/n],” he said, and your eyes fell to the phone on the floor between you and Spencer. “Do you know if there was a remote detonator, or a manual switch?”

“He - he pressed a button before he left,” you said quickly.

“Can you show Reid where it was?”

“Um, I couldn’t see, really, but...” you shut your eyes and tried to picture where his hand had been. “Is... is there something on the upper right side?”

“Yes, two buttons. Morgan, one’s yellow, one’s black.”

“Alright. [y/n], do you know if he pushed the top or bottom one?”

“I don’t, I’m so sorry,” you rushed out. Morgan instantly said,

“Ay, that’s okay, sunshine. Kid, yellow one’s on top, right?” Spencer made a noise of confirmation. “Okay. We only got one shot at this. You sure you’re good doin’ it?”

Spencer met your eyes again, giving a small smile as his hold tightened around your hand.

“I am. Tell me what to do.”

“You’re gonna press that yellow button down and yank that top wire out. As soon as it’s out, you do the same thing with the bottom button and bottom wire.”

“That’s it?” Spencer asked in surprise.

“It’s a direct connection trigger,” he said quickly. “Disrupt the connector with the signals and it shuts itself off. As long as he matched the position of the wires with the buttons that’s all it takes.”

You hated to ask, but you needed to.

“What if he didn’t match them up?”

Spencer pressed his lips together; you already knew the answer before Morgan said softly,

“It won’t really matter past that.”

“Right,” you whispered; Spencer went to pull his hand free and you instantly tightened your hold. “I - I can press the buttons for you. Just - please don’t let go.”

Spencer gave you a soft smile and nodded. “I won’t. Here -” he shifted hands briefly and then positioned your free one against the pack, putting your pointer finger on the top button and your middle finger on the bottom button. “Alright. On the count of three.”

“On three,” you agreed. Spencer’s fingers entangled with yours in your lap as his own free hand came up to the wires.

“One,” he said softly. You took a deep breath. “Two...”

You and Spencer locked eyes, giving each other small smiles as you whispered together,

“Three.”

“Miss [y/l/n]?” one of the officers asked, pausing at the back of the ambulance where you were sitting. You glanced up from watching the paramedic wipe off the handful of superficial wounds along your arm as he said, “there’s someone that wanted to speak with you, if that’s okay.”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded and sat up a bit. The paramedic, taking her cue, murmured something about checking on you in a few minutes before excusing herself into the back of the ambulance, giving you as much privacy as she could.

Curiously, you looked around the busy parking lot; it was packed with police cars, the SWAT van the bomb squad had (now unnecessarily) shown up in, and a handful of black SUV’s. As the bomb squad had escorted you out of the building, you’d locked eye with Shane in the back of one.

The fury on his face seeing you being let out of the vest was something you’d hold onto for a long, long time. His plans had been ruined, all thanks to you - and the handsome FBI agent that came around the corner of the ambulance. You were genuinely surprised to see him - moments after you’d pulled the wires out, the bomb squad had rushed the scene. Spencer as practically swept out of the way, and you’d assumed he and his team had left.

Admittedly, you were really glad he was still here. Like, really glad. With all the life-or-death peril out of the way, you hadn’t stopped thinking about all Spencer had done. He’d stayed with you, against orders, and comforted you with a ticking bomb on your chest. And, instead of taking off when it was getting ready to detonate, he put his life on the line to take a chance at saving yours.

You weren’t a romantic, but come on this was kismet. You couldn’t deny it.

Spencer’s full lips pulled into a wide, honest smile as he took in the sight of you. You couldn’t help but smile back, butterflies fluttering in your chest as he stepped closer.

“I’m glad they got the vest off with no problem,” he told you; free of his own vest he’d been clad in, you couldn’t help take in his outfit. A fitted, dark sweater vest over a dark plaid shirt, and a dark tie pulling it all together. His dress pants fit him illegally well, and the converse peeking out from under them confirmed your suspicions from earlier: he was undoubtedly attractive..

“Yeah, a few scrapes on the way out, but I’m in one piece so I’m not complaining,” you joked, and to your surprise he stepped forward. He was as close to you now as he had been earlier, but this was different. This was Spencer standing crowded up against your legs, leaning over you, hand coming out to take yours.

His fingers curled around yours for just a heartbeat as he lifted your arm, turning it over gently to study the marks. The butterflies surged at his touch, and when he lowered your arm and went to pull away, you quickly grabbed hold of his hand. Spencer’s smile faltered into an unexpected shy turn of his lips as you said softly,

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did. You didn’t have to stay, and you risked your life for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, smile quirking a little more; his hand gave a squeeze and he didn’t try to pull away. The feeling of his fingers tangled with yours was a comfort you had never experienced before. Maybe it was because of the whole held-your-hand-through-a-near-death-experience thing, but Spencer was comforting.

He was a shimmer of warmth against the cold night, a breath of calm in the chaos of the last few hours. He was the boat navigating the waves, keeping you afloat, guiding you to the safety you’d been desperate to reach.

In that next breath, you felt the air shift between you and Spencer, a new intensity sparking between the two of you. His soft caramel eyes held you in an unwavering gaze; his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip tightened as he shifted minutely closer.

Normally, you weren’t one to be bold, but hell. After being strapped to a bomb, what was so hard about taking a chance?

“I’d like to try,” you said softly, eyes flicking between his as you slowly leaned forward, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. Instead, Spencer shifted impossibly closer and you took your chance, leaning up and pressing your lips softly to his.

Instantly he kissed you back with a power you hadn’t expected from him. Your lips brushed slowly against one another as his free hand came up, cupping your cheek to hold you in place. Your own hand rested against his chest and he stepped into your touch.

His hand slowly slid back into your hair to pull you against him, silently asking to deepen the kiss. Your tongue swept against his lower lip and his mouth parted instantly, his own tongue darting out and brushing your own. His soft, almost imperceptible moan wasn’t lost on you and you swallowed the noise hungrily.

A horn honked across the parking lot and the two of you jumped back, staring at each other in surprise before dissolving into giggles. You felt your face turn six shades of scarlet as Spencer glanced back towards the black SUV now flashing its lights at the two of you.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to go,” he chuckled, clearing his throat as he finally stepped back and pulled his hand from yours. He was still smiling, though, and he peeked up at you hopefully as he asked, “but um, I don’t live too far from here. And if you wanted, maybe you and I could, you know...”

An idea popped into your head and reached back into the ambulance, grabbing a pen off the clipboard you’d used to fill out some paperwork. You took Spencer’s hand - reveling in the feel of it briefly - and scribbled your number on the back of it.

“If you’re not busy this weekend, I wouldn’t mind some company at the zoo,” you teased, enjoying the grin that took over his face as he nodded quickly. “You and your FBI profiling skills can help me find the animal I want to sponsor.”

“I’d really like that,” he said as he gave you a wide, honest grin, tongue pushing against his teeth as he ducked his head.

Okay, okay. So maybe your parents might’ve had a point. Turns out being polite had gotten you exactly where you wanted to be - on a date with the sweet, undeniably handsome Dr. Spencer Reid.

Next time, though, you could really do without the explosives.

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