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weeb-writor · 4 years

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Bakugou’s S/O dies in a crash, leaving him a single father

Hello, gonna be very honest I forgot how to read properly and read a request wrong and wrote a 3000 word fic for it, woohoo! But i mean at least you guys get a fic from it, lol. Italics are flashbacks, bold is reality trying to pull him out of his head, and the regular text is reality. The actual request should be up tomorrow. Reader is neutral and I didn't specify the birthing process! Hope you all enjoy.

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Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Bakugou’s S/O dies in a crash leaving him a single dad, he has flashes backs of your life together.

TW: Death, depiction of a car crash and blood. Kinde heavy angst

Words: 3052

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“I am so sorry sir but there's nothing we could do for them, w-” The doctor went on but the words slurred together in Bakugou's mind. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you were both supposed to grow old together. Supposed to send Kaori to her first day of school together. To bully the shit out of her first significant other. Go all out on each and every one of her birthdays. To give her at least 3 more brats to hang out with...to cry as you sent her off to college. This isn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to protect you, to be your hero. Everything you both had promised to each other was slipping through his grasped fist and the flashbacks were not helping either.

“Watch where you are going, Pomeranian.” You said to him.

“Pomeranian? The fuck, watch your mouth shitty extra!” He roared back at you.

“I think you’re the one who needs soap in his mouth, you're cursing every other word.” You cocked a brow at him.

“Whatever you god damn extra, get outta my way i'm gonna be late.” He backed off shocking his small group of friends.

“What the heck bakubro! If I said that to you I would be dead! You’re caught by the balls already!” Denki said pouting

“Whaddyah just say dunce face? I am not and it doesn't matter. I went easy cause they're so insignificant I wont see them again.” He said with a shrug as they walked into the training yard where their class was meeting.

“Alright, today we have a few helpers from other classes to help you with physical combat skills without the use of your quirks. Pair up with them, if you can actually beat them the first go than you pass. If you don’t, then well you fail, and will do supplementary training with me after every class.” Aizawa said, zipping himself into his sleeping bag.

“Hello class 1-A, Im Y/N. I am in charge of everybody you're about to fight, we've all trained in various types of Martial arts, and uhh you're probably all gonna lose but try your hardest alright?! I've got match-ups based on your physical abilities, so let's begin.” You said getting everyone into their pairs.

“So much for never seeing them again, huh?” Sero said laughing at the fuming bakugou.

“Yeah you’ll be seeing a lot more of me Pomeranian boy, but for now let me wipe the floor with you.” You said getting into a fighting position. He remembers how he lost that fight, terribly he might add. You only offered to help him after the loss, ignoring all his cries of protest. He didn't only lose the fist fight, he lost his heart to you. He had hoped you would never give it back to him, but here you are giving him his heart back. He hated these images, he wants them to stop.

“Bakugou”

“Go on a date with me.” You said as you and bakugou walked back to the dorms together after a sparring session.

“What!?” He yelled at you a deep shade of red.

“You know, on a date, and then you know if all goes well like 2 more before you kiss me and ask me to be officially yours because i'm not easy, you know?”

“Who asks like that!” He continued to yell.

“What did you want some flowers too, bakugou.” You giggled at him.

“You damn, dumbass! Fine but we're going now!” He said grabbing your hand and pulling you away.

“Wait but we are sweaty and I wanted to look nice! You're such a tyrant, Bakugou!” You sang as he pulled you away but slammed into his back as he came to a halting stop.

“Katsuki...call me Katsuki.” He said looking to the side with a blush. This moment was precious to him, your stupid giggle always brought brought blood rushing to his cheeks and made his heart race. As precious as it was, he begged his mind to stop, he didn't want to see what he couldn't have anymore… he wants to forget.

“Bakugou!”

“You know, if i knew you were so messy I wouldn't have moved in with you.” Bakugou yelled to you as he put up one of your many blankets that were always littered around the house.

“Sorry not Sorry, Kat, it's your fault for keeping this damn house like an ice box all the time.” You said as you shoved some more takeout into your mouth.

“And why did you order takeout, i wanted to cook instead of eating that shitty and so unhealthy food.” He nagged you some more but you only giggled. He smiled, that had become his favorite sound.

“Because Mr. Pro- Hero some of us are college students barely staying afloat! It's my last semester so let me live, you ass! Also you are so much like your mother babe, it's kind of funny.” You said to him. His head was bulging in irritation as he sat next to you.

“I can't believe I want to marry you…” He said shaking his head with a sigh. You put down your takeout and stared at him with wide, teary eyes.

“You want to marry… me?” You said to him, he chucked at you before placing a black velvet box in your hand.

“Yeah, so say yes and put the ring on.” He blushed looking away from you.

“You jerk, this is how you ask me? And like an idiot of course I'm putting on the ring with no hesitation.” You giggled around your tears, admiring the ring you had just placed on your finger.

“Yeah, as I recall, you asked me out the same way. Whaddyah want some flowers?” He teased you with a grin. You looked at him with burning passion before your lips met, engaging in a fiery dance of passion. Stop, stop. Please just stop, he begged his brain. At the moment he thought it was perfect, it was so you and so him. Now, he wished he did it on tv or yelled it from the rooftops. Maybe then it would have shown the universe, or god, or whatever was taking him from you just how much he needed and loved you. Just maybe it would have permitted this outcome.

“Bakugou!!”

You and bakugou stared down at the little 6 pound baby. She was sleeping peacefully for the first time since the girl came home, which was 4 day ago! Maybe it was because you had just taken her to meet her grandparents and she didn't want to deal with her grandparents much like her father.

“Give me that baby!” his mom said swopping the baby into her hands. You only giggled at her excitement but Bakugou threw a fit.

“Mom! She's a fuc-freaking newborn! You’ve got to be gentle and support her head! You’re gonna hurt her, it's dangerous” He shouted at his mom.

“Oh hush you ingrate. If that was true believe me kid you’d be dead by now, would've saved me a lot of trouble. Now come on little Kaori, I know you've got it.” She said looking down at Kaori.

“What's she got?” You asked curiously. The blonde did not respond, only blew a little stream of air on the baby's nose and then turned her towards you and the blonde next to you who was still pouting. The baby stirred before waking up giving you all the meanest mug you had ever seen come from a baby. She stared at bakugou and then at you before going back to sleep.

“She’s got the bakugou bitch face or the bakugou glare or even the bakugou mean mug. However you want to call it but that doesn't matter cause she’s got it.” His mom said placing the sleeping baby in the basinet you guys had brought.

“Did that brat just glare at me!?” Bakugou whispers, causing you to burst into full belly laughter.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” he said to you trying to hide his small smile that was brought out by your laughing.

“Nothing, I just love you and I believe you just said H-E double hockey sticks so we're getting takeout on the way home, love.” You said kissing his cheek. He only stuck his tongue out at you before mumbling a quick ‘i love you back’. It's getting more painful now he's drawing closer to the day he knew his mind was counting down to. As much as he wanted to relish in the memory all he could think of was how Kaori wouldn't remember you or your melodious laughing. How he should have said I love you more clearly in that moment. He wanted it to stop, he wanted the flashes to stop, the memories to stop but they wouldn't and he knew because they were telling your story.

“BAKUGOU!!”

“Come here, dumbass I wanna cuddle!” Bakugou yelled from your bed.

“Hold on I just wanna call your mom and make sure Kaori is okay. It's the first time Kaori has been away so long. She’s only eleven months, she's probably scared without us.” You said with the phone in your hand pacing.

“Babe, if you are so worried you should know I called my mom while you were bathing. Kaori is chasings around my mom's fat cat. And my moms gonna call when they are putting her to bed so we can say goodnight. Now, get over here and quit worrying I want to cuddle you.” He said finally getting you relax enough to lay down, you rested your head on his chest.

“You're such a good dad, you were worried enough to phone your mom.” You said breathing in his caramel scent.

“Of course I did, I worry about you and Kaori whenever yall are out of my sight. I love you both too much yet not enough at the same time.” He said to you kissing the top of your head.

“Katsuki I want us to always be this way, I want to always be with you and kaori smiling. I love you both too much too.” You said back to him straddling him to meet his eyes.

“I want some more brats and a cat and a dog. I want everything with you. And I want it for forever” He said looking up at you with passion. He needs it to stop, he can't relive the same nightmare. He didn't want the image of you dying in his hands to replay, but that's where his mind was heading, wasn't it?

“Bakugou!? Can you hear me!?”

“You know when people said you become boring when you have a baby I didn't believe them but were totally boring. We just did 10 over the speed limit to pick up Kaori.” You said taking a glance in the mirror to see her cute little grumpy face.

“Baby I realized we were boring when we went to that baby store on our day off to look at baby stuff and we went “ ohh” and “awhh” to every third object we saw.” He said back to you with a chuckle. You giggled at him and your eyes fluttered shut for just a second, it was a second too long because when you opened them you slammed into a car ahead of you that had just been in an accident causing a pile up. Behind you a semi rammed into your suv doing terrible damage to the car and everyone inside. Bakugou was the first to wake and quickly fought to get himself free. Once he did he was all over you but you were in far worse shape and the metal of the car dug into you, slicing you open, and locking you into place.

“Noo.. Kat get Kaori first.” you whispered to him.

“Y/N, i'll get you out first, you're right here. Then we’ll get kaori together.” He said tears spilling from his eyes.

“Katsuki, please get Kaori first. Please, i'll try to get loose myself” You plead with him, he thought about it but you were more stuck than her and you were bleeding heavily from the metal cutting into your abdomen.

“Katsuki Bakugou! Her first, then me! I’ll wait for you, promise.” That was all he needed to hear, his heart ached for his little girl who was crying softly more shocked than hurt.

“It's alright baby we're gonna get you safety and then dadas gonna come get mommy and we’ll all go home cuddle.” He said as he pulled the baby from her car seat, recognizing ‘home’ and ‘cuddle’ she clapped at him. He planted gross, wet kisses all over her face before dashing to the place where he saw all the flashing lights congregating. It was a pretty big pile up so there were a lot of ambulances. He took the first one open.

“This is Bakugou Kaori, she’s eleven months and has no allergies to anything or any medication. I'll be coming back with Bakugou y/n who has a pretty deep gash in their abdomen and isn't allergic to any medication either.” He said as the EMT took his baby from him. He almost didn't want to leave her but he knew you were waiting on him, so he dashed back to your totaled car where he saw people crowding your figure as they had just pulled you out.

“Y/N!” He said dropping to the ground taking you from the girl who was holding you.

“Come on, you're bleeding a lot we’ve got to get you to the ambulance.” He said tears cascading from his eyes as he tried to lift you while simultaneously slowing your bleeding but as he lifted you not only did you scream, blood rushed out of your gash at a very alarming rate.

“We can't lift them, they're losing too much blood, the ambulance got to come down here….They’ll die if we take them down there.” Someone said as Katsuki placed you back on the ground. He wanted to yell at them and tell them they were wrong but he knew they weren't. As well as he knew the ambulance wouldn't fit down here, it was hard for him to fit through the cracks of the cars. He had to try though for you, for Kaori, and for himself.

“You're all hurt, go get to an ambulance and get some help, idiots.... And please, I'm begging you, make one of them come down here.” The group of people nodded as they raced for the ambulances.

“Told you I’d wait on you, Kat.”

“Yeah, you did such a good job, baby! You are so strong, love. They went to get help, everything's gonna be alright.” He whispered to you clutching your body closer to him.

“Who are you trying to convince me or you.” You laughed coughing up blood.

“Stop laughing, dumbass this isn't funny.” He gritted his teeth at you.

“Alright then stuffy, onto the serious business. I want Kaori to grow up knowing what love is, so tell her all our cheesy stories. I want her to grow up knowing she is so loved by you so tell her everyday from me and you that you love her more than anything. I want her to know she can come to you for anything so don't be such a hardass to her when she starts to rebel a little…. I don't want her to forget my face or my voice too much, so as much as it might hurt at first show her all the pictures and videos we took over the years. And when she's old enough to understand what happened tonight tell her she doesn't need to go to my grave if she ever wants to talk to me, I'm always watching over you both, promise.” You paused to throw up some more blood. “And now for you my love, I won't say anything to cliché. Like ‘i want you to find love’ cause we both know I am the jealous type but if it happens don't worry I'm not turning over in my grave. I want you to keep following that dream of yours if anyone can be the Top hero and a single dad it’s you, Kat. I want you to indulge yourself and eat takeout sometimes that stuffy diet of yours isn't fun. Be sad for as long as you need but just don't hold it all inside and try to continue on like everything is fine. It's okay to cry, to need a break or some help or both really. Lastly, Bakugou Katsuki, I love you and I am so sorry we didn't get that always and forever we wanted.” You said using the last of your strength to caress his cheek. He sobbed as he grasped your hand and held it tighter to his cheek.

“I love y-” he tried to say but stopped as he realized you were already gone. You didn't get to hear it back from him… the scream that ripped from him was pure anguish in its finest form. He should've been quicker to say it. He should have said it more often. He just should have. And now he was begging his head to stop playing these flashbacks to stop driving the knife further into his heart, he had a daughter he was trying to live for. He just wanted it to stop.

“DADA DADA”

Just like that he was drawn from his head. He looked around to see his friends and family staring at him in concern and his daughter at his feet with fat tears rolling down her face. He quickly picked her up, cursing at himself as he probably just scared her.

“What are you crying for you, little brat?” He started but paused as fat tears of his own rolled down his sunken cheeks “Everything's gonna be alright soon, so we shouldn't cry for too long okay, Brat.” He said as he hugged Kaori tighter than he should have. Somewhere in his mind he did believe it. That he and his daughter would be okay but for right now he was trying to stay afloat in the waves of suffocating flashbacks.

#bakugou katuski x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x you #bhna x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #very sad #angst #poc writers

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part twenty two) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7650 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part twenty two: Y/N is about to take the stage together with her horse Meadow, but stage fright is making it very difficult to bring the evening to a successful end. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Opening scene: First Defeat - Noah Gundersen, Meadow’s freestyle: Stairway To Heaven, Immigrant Song, Whole Lotta Love - Led Zeppelin. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Y/N dips the sponge foaming with leather soap in a small bucket of water, and softly moves it in circles over the gullet of Meadow’s cognac colored saddle. Making sure to get into the little curves and edges of the beautifully decorated piece of craftsmanship, she picks up an old toothbrush and gently sweeps the dirt out of the grooves; it’s one of the older tricks in the book.

The maintenance does a lot of things besides calm the mind. It keeps the material supple, stops it from tearing, therefore saddles and bridles last longer. The leather will be soft on the horse’s coat and prevent sores and irritation of the skin. Clean and shiny tack says a lot about a person. They are usually precise, provident, and have a keen eye for detail. Often perfectionists who leave nothing to chance. Y/N is such a person.

Dean watches her, adoration on his features. She hasn’t spotted him yet, too focused on the chore. His hands are buried in the front pockets of his jeans while he leans against the door of the makeshift tack room, where she’s working in silence. He notices how loose hairs have escaped her french braid, how she bites her lip while concentrating. He notices the black smear on her cheek, her hands grimy from the mixture of soap and dirt coming from the saddle. He notices all those little things, and all else he loves about her.

There might be a soft smile on his lips, but his eyes give away how much his heart is hurting. He hasn’t been able to ban the haunting words from his thoughts, nor the realization that came with it; no matter how much time he puts between the past and present, he can’t outrun those dark days. The troubled cowboy wishes he could tell her, but he doesn’t want to drag his girl into this. She would pity him, be disgusted. She would run as far away as she could, and he wouldn’t even blame her if she does just that. The fact that he is unable to be truthful, has him doubt everything they have accomplished. How can he ask her to trust him, when he can’t be honest with her? When he doesn’t even trust himself?

Y/N rises from the small stool to get a cloth from her tack box in order to polish the saddle, when she notices a figure from the corner of her eye. For a second she startles, but then realizes it’s her boyfriend. “How long have you been standing there?” she chuckles. “For a little while,” he admits, the corner of his mouth pulling into a slightly bigger smile. “Didn’t mean to creep you out.” “Don’t worry, you didn’t. Fergus MacLeod on the other hand…” Y/N comments, squirting some shine cream on the cloth.

Before she returns to her stool again to finish the dirty job, Dean steps closer and takes her hand. Desperate for her to ground him, he lets his fingers trace her stained knuckles, taking the cleaning product from her and putting it aside. He focuses on their hold and keeps quiet, being more tentative than conversational. “Dean?” Her voice is laced with confusion and worry, and when he looks up, he sees that her eyes match the warm sound. Willing to do anything to take those concerns away, he cups her face and gently pulls Y/N closer. His lips catch hers, sweetly at first. Dean cherishes the moment when she melts into his touch, deepening the kiss. It doesn’t unsettle him when she unwinds her fingers from his, because he can feel his cowboy hat leave his head, those same fingers now running through his short hair.

Dean takes his time, eyes closed and his long lashes brushing against her cheek. He draws her in, moving his hand up her side as if he’s afraid she might slip away at any moment. There’s a hint of distress in the way he is kissing her, even though she can tell he is trying to hide it. Knowing that now is not the time to question his reasoning, she gives him what he needs so hopelessly. After a long, intimate minute, in the shelter of the small tack room, Dean parts from her. Y/N hopes to see a smile, but his eyes remain closed as he presses his forehead against hers.

“What’s going on?” she encourages, gently. “Nothin’. I’m alright,” he claims, but when she raises her eyebrows at him knowingly, he gives her an explanation, even though it’s not the whole truth. “Fergus MacLeod got under my skin with the way he spoke to you, is all.” “Oh, you mean the pet names?” She scoffs, shaking her head at the memory. “I wouldn’t read into it. He’s an Englishman; they address women like that.” “Still…” Dean rubs the pad of his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the grease. He is beginning to find his footing again. “I’m the only one who gets to call you that.” “And you think I’m the jealous one,” Y/N jokes. “You never call me ‘darling’ or ‘love’ anyway.” He grins at her mockery, especially when she overdoes the accent. His eyes are still sincere as ever. “Because you’re my Yankee,” he says softly.

Her smile becomes brighter, her nickname rolling from his tongue usually having that effect. And for just a second, Dean forgets about all the worry in the world. He kisses her once more, short and sweet this time, daring to take a hold of her gaze now that his mask fits again. “You stood your ground when that stuck up made that offer on Meadow,” he compliments. “You basically told him to go fuck himself. That was pretty badass.”

Shyly, Y/N shrugs. To her it didn’t cost her an ounce of bravery or willpower. She has gotten offers on her horse before, although never one this high. But Fergus could offer a billion, there is no way in hell she will ever let Meadow go. “She’s priceless, Dean,” the cowgirl explains, simply. “I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” “I know,” her boyfriend acknowledges. “All I’m saying is that many would have considered it. The fact that it’s not even an option for you, just shows how much she means to you.” He pauses, admiring the strong minded woman before him. “She’s your soul horse.” “My what?” Y/N recalls, curiously.

Dean chuckles, realizing that it’s not a widely known term. It was Ellen who told him about the special bond between human and horse, when he was younger. It became something that always stuck with him, words he never forgot. “Every equestrian comes across that one horse in their life. The one that stands out from all the others, that captures you, takes up a huge space in here.” He taps two fingers on his chest, right where his heart is. “The one you have this unbreakable bond with, who you trust and trusts you. The one you will never forget,” he explains. “That’s your soul horse.”

Y/N begins to glow, because every word he spoke sounds familiar. Dean is right; Meadow is her soul horse. “I like that,” she says, thinking about his words for a second.

Content, she moves past Dean to pick up the polish, in order for her to return to the task she needs to finish. “What else did the snobby Brit have to say?” she wonders, sitting back down on her stool, beginning to rub the cream onto the horn and the pommel of the saddle. “He bought Jovi and Ringo, actually,” the cowboy elaborates, turning to the side to check out the perfectly clean bridle hanging from the tack box door. He’s giving himself something to focus on, feeling the soft leather under his fingers. “Did he! That’s great, right?” she checks, noticing that her boyfriend isn’t exactly thrilled about the matter. Dean glances at her, forcing a smile. “Yeah, the money is certainly welcome.” “I bet Bobby is pleased,” Y/N assumes, wiping down the saddle one last time before she puts the cover back on. “Did he say anything about our dance last night?” “He didn’t. I think he’s lettin’ it slide.” Dean shrugs. “He’s not someone to discuss this kinda stuff anyway, so I’m guessin’ no word about it is good.” Y/N is willing to accept his reasoning. “Well, alright. If you’re sure it won’t get you into trouble.” “I doubt it, and even if he’d give me a hard time, it’s worth the lecture.” Dean chuckles, glancing down at his boots. “Fergus made another business proposition, too.” The cowgirl gets up and lifts the heavy saddle from its stand, carrying it to the tack box and storing it away. “What’s that?” “He wants me to train one of his horses,” he tells her. Her eyes grow wide as she shuts the door. “A stallion? Dean, that’s huge!” The wrangler chuckles at her enthusiasm. “It’s just the one.”

“Do you realize that this could be the start of something very rewarding? He owns stables full of licensed stallions. It might be a great stepping stone. I mean, look at Jovi and Ringo; they were sold from under you before you could really shine with them,” Y/N brings to mind. “Riding a talented horse for an owner who has no desire to sell because of the money already coming in with stud fees, is really good for you. This could become your big break.”

Dean hasn’t even looked at it that way, but he guesses it’s why his girlfriend is so good in her field. She always thinks five steps ahead, seeing opportunities where another person would just see a lot of work. He remains realistic, though, not wanting to celebrate too quickly. “Well, apparently Cain is a handful, so we’ll see how it goes.” “Wait… Cain?” She was already staring at him in astonishment, but now her jaw almost drops to the floor. “As in the Quarter sired by Dual Ray. The one that went for 1.2 million at the Derby auction?! Shut up!”

“Someone watched the news.” Dean grins, the sight of her girlfriend so perplexed being quite amusing. “But, yeah. He’s arriving at the ranch next week. Depending on how bad his behavioral problems are, he’s staying or leaving. I have a feeling MacLeod isn’t telling the whole story.” “Well, even if Cain’s issues are worse than Fergus let on--” She steps closer, slipping her arms around his neck. “- if anyone can fix him, it’s you.”

The confidence she has in him astonishes the cowboy. He doesn’t deserve it, her never ending support, her faith. Even now, all he’s doing is bullshitting his way through this exchange. He hopes to God Y/N doesn’t pick up on his insecurities, because maybe if she doesn’t, they can stay in this bubble for a little while longer.

Another kiss is pressed on his lips and for just that moment, Dean forgets about the demons that so often torment his mind. Unable to resist her even if he tries, the cowboy reels her in. He can sense his Yankee smile against his mouth and he can’t help to copy her expression. When he can feel her weaken in his hold, however, it is quickly replaced with a look of concern. “You okay?” he asks apprehensively, his grip on her firmer to make sure she doesn’t go down, but thankfully she steadies. “Yeah, just a little lightheaded.” Y/N takes a breath. “I’m fine.” “Did you eat today?” Dean requires, both stern and worried. “No,” she admits. “I can’t eat before a competition. Nerves and all.” “Are you kiddin’ me? You’re not up until 8 PM!” he returns, not having any of it. “Yankee, You gotta eat. I’ll buy you somethin’.” “I wouldn’t be able to take even one bite, Dean. Don’t bother. I’ll have an energy drink before I get on Meadow.” “Oh, hell no. You can’t do your run while low on fuel,” her boyfriend decides, carefully letting her go when he’s sure she has found her balance again. “How about yoghurt? Or some fruit? Did that really just come out of my mouth?” Y/N snorts when she notices the double take at his own suggestions, his nose wrinkling in revulsion, as if he just said something vile and doesn’t even know himself anymore. “Would a smoothie work? I saw a stand by the arena,” Dean offers. She shrugs, appreciating his efforts and not wanting to deny him. “I could try.” “Alright.” He leaves a quick kiss on her mouth and picks up his hat, before he intends to leave the tack room. In the doorway he turns around, his body language showing confusion, yet his eyes sparkle. “I never in my life thought I was gonna say this, but I’m gonna buy a smoothie,” he announces, before shooting her a wink and disappearing. Y/N laughs now, shaking her head at his comical ways. Bless him, at least he’s trying.

7.00 PM. Y/N is back in the tack room where she spent most of her morning cleaning her gear. When there was absolutely nothing left to polish, every bit of brass on her saddle and bridle shining so bright it could quite possibly blind the judges once in the arena, she tried to distract herself another way. She did manage to consume the smoothie her boyfriend brought her, though, much to his delight. It helped, because the dizziness has passed, but a stress headache remains. She sat down for lunch with Benny, Jo and Dean, although she didn’t eat anything. Conversation moved past her like the Arizona autumn breeze that’s blowing across the show grounds.

Afterwards, she assisted Dean with his last ride of the day, this time in the ‘working cow horse’ class, which is a fun combination between reining and managing cattle. After feeding the horses and providing them with water, the crew went to the arena to watch some runs. It only triggered restlessness in her heart that seemed impossible to calm, and it didn’t take long before she returned to the stable. She spent some time with Meadow, her dance partner tonight, simply sitting in the corner of her box, watching the beautiful animal chew on her hay, completely at ease with her owner’s presence.

Now, it’s time to prepare herself. Meadow is already tacked up, waiting in her stall until Y/N is ready, one hind hoof resting on its toe, preserving energy. It’s like the animal knows, since she normally is quite impatient, but right before a competition, she prefers to nap on her feet. It’s a huge contrast to her human, who has trouble controlling her anxiety. The smoothie she had earlier is bubbling inside Y/N, her stomach unsettled. Trying to calm herself by making sure that everything is perfect, she goes through the familiar checklist in her head while the soundtrack of her freestyle plays on her phone.

Dean helped her work out the new routine, thankfully. After setting the bar way too high in her first draft, almost making herself cry when she realized just how impossible it was, he suggested more simple lines, but combinations of the patterns. This is supposed to kick up the degree of difficulty without the floorplan being a tangled mess, and highlights Meadow’s strengths. What she had to figure out next, was what kind of music she wanted to ride to.

Her boyfriend contacted Ash, who was more than willing to edit the tunes for the intern. When she offered Dean the idea, she knew it was a hit when she saw his eyes twinkle. They took the request to the former ranch hand, who went to work and knocked it out of the park. Honestly, a part of Y/N cannot wait to ride her new freestyle, but she’s also downright petrified. What if she screws up? What if she forgets her routine? What if she doesn’t nail it, with Congress only two weeks away? What if she fails?

Everything is ready, all she needs to do is change into her show outfit. Y/N strips down, switching her blue jeans and plaid shirt for black. The back of her button up is decorated with golden studs in the shape of a guitar, and so are the cuffs and shoulders. During a freestyle the rider is allowed to ‘dress up’ and add elements in the arena, make a show of it. Although she’s not a fan of the whole circus act, and much rather prefers to let her performance do the talking and convincing, she wasn’t resenting the idea Ash offered when they listened to the soundtrack. Ellen helped her sow on the miniature pyramid-shaped beads, and the end result is better than Y/N could have hoped for.

The focused competitor slips into her onyx chaps which she just took out, and laces the leather strap through the belt loop of her jeans. She then continues to unpack her cowboy boots, which are the same color as Meadow’s fiery brown tack, shining just as bright. Her brass spurs follow, the rowel jingling when she turns to take a round box from the top, unzipping the lid. The beautiful Milano hat inside has her smile down on the crafted head piece; it was a Christmas gift from her parents. One she received right before her first show with the Quarter mare, the horse who gives her so much more than she could ever hope for. She picks it up by the crown and places it on her smooth hair which Jo braided earlier, the action raising a sense of pride in her chest. The hat makes the outfit, but it comes along with so much more. It gives back some of the confidence her insecurities took away. She’s a cowgirl, in heart and soul.

Last but not least, she takes an object from the same container that safeguarded the Milano. Reminiscing, Y/N draws her thumb over the gold plated metal, feeling the edges of the letters and symbols under her fingertip; it’s her State Championship belt buckle. She closes her eyes, the memories of that epic run flooding her thoughts welcomingly. The stadium spotlights, the roaring crowd, her name in bright letters on the scoreboard. And then that indescribable feeling of horse and rider becoming one, the thrill of coming down that centerline and just knowing that this was going to be their moment, the ride of their lives. She will be in seventh heaven if she manages to get even remotely close to the pinnacle they reached that day.

Footsteps draw her back to reality, the dry ground crunching under heavy boots in the alleyway between the stables. Y/N doesn’t question who it is, Dean promised to help her with the warmup, and since she has stated in her very detailed schedule that she is going to get on her horse ten minutes from now, she is expecting his arrival. Turning around, she meets his astonished gaze in the doorway, his jaw slightly ajar. “Do you think I’d be showing off if I wear this?” she wonders, offering him a look at the coveted buckle.

But Dean only has eyes for a different prize. He needs a moment to recover from the sight of his girlfriend. She’s drop dead gorgeous after a morning muck out, with hay in her messy locks and dust sticking to her damp skin. But now, dressed in her black show outfit, her hair braided and her make-up bringing out the color of her eyes even more, he can’t help but stammer. He chuckles warmly, a blush on his cheeks. “You look - you look amazing.”

His reaction draws a smile on her lips, but she’s too anxious to really appreciate the compliment. There is a time schedule to be considered after all. “My State Champion buckle, or a simple one?” she asks him again, not daring to make the call herself. Dean takes the shiny object, tilting it to admire the award. ‘AQHA State Champion - Maine, 2008’ it says, the inscription curved around a horse’s head, edged in silver and gold. “Wear it,” he decides. “You won that championship fair and square.” “Yeah, I know, it’s just that--” She pauses, fiddling to close the buttons on her cuffs. “I don’t wanna fail to meet everyone's expectations.” The cowboy looks up at her from under his lashes, his green eyes reading her for a second. “Everyone’s expectations? Or your own?”

Dean has a solid point, but evaluating thought processes is not something she needs right now. She sighs and tries to bury her frustrations, very much aware that she snaps easily when she’s on edge like she is now. It wouldn’t be the first time that she loses her cool with someone who is actually there to support her, it usually being either her parents or her brothers. She doesn’t want her boyfriend to endure the same unreasonable behavior, and so she shrugs at that. “I don’t know, really. I mean, yes, I expect a lot from myself, but the thought that people on the sideline, like Bobby, Jody, Donna… you, will judge my every move,” she pauses, letting an anxious sigh fall from her lips. “It honestly makes me feel sick.”

“You shouldn’t let it get to you like that,” Dean suggests, handing her back the buckle. “Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done,” she returns, the edge of her voice much sharper than she meant to come out. While pulling her belt through the loops, she briefly looks up, noticing his head cocked back slightly while his brows meet his hairline, which triggers her to mutter an apology. “Sorry.”

He can see the embarrassment in her stance as she turns her gaze to the floor. The slight offense he took desolates, making room for sympathy. He can tell she’s struggling to cope with the nerves and the pressure she is under, pressure she shouldn’t even be experiencing. This competition is a practice run, an environment to test her new freestyle and get back into the rhythm of the shows after a long break. However, he understands that downgrading this event will not do her any good. What he needs to convince her of, is to believe in herself, like he believes in her.

“Yankee, you’re never gonna fail my expectations. The way I see you doesn’t stand or fall with this performance, or any.” He takes her hands in his, squeezing them softly in order to prevent her from getting lost in that dark forest of negative thoughts. “I get that you want to prove yourself, but it ain’t necessary. The girls already love you, and the fact that Bobby didn’t rip me a new one for kissing you last night proves a point too. All that won’t change after today’s run.”

Carefully, Y/N glances up, met by the sight of empathy swimming in mystic green eyes. “I’m here to back you up, okay? I’ll help you with the warm up, and Jo will be there to assist. It’s gonna be fine. Your horse is awesome, your freestyle is awesome, you are awesome,” he reassures, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Now get your fine butt on that horse.” She takes a slow breath, the smile that his words surface saying just how much that means to her. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

With Meadow’s bridle in hand, she exits the tack room, feeling somewhat lighter than she did ten minutes ago. Dean’s kind words and endless support doesn’t take away the anxiety entirely, but it has enough of an effect to have her believe that maybe, just maybe, she is going to survive this evening. At least he is by her side, not just as her man, but as her trainer as well, and with the way he has been with her so far, she can already tell how different he is from her former instructor. No list of exercises she needs to go through during the warm up, no ‘do this’ or ‘don’t do that’ while she’s preparing to get on her horse. It’s a huge contrast, but one for the better. Maybe Dean is right, maybe it is going to be fine.

Dean looks up when he notices someone approaching from the corner of his eye, the small framed silhouette with a dancing ponytail unmistakably Jo’s. She has a bucket half full with water in one hand with a sponge floating on the surface, a rag hanging from her back pocket and a groom bag over her shoulder. “You ready, sis?” she asks, popping her head over the stable door. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/N sighs, tightening the sinch. “You’re gonna do great. Especially with your lover whispering in your ear.” She hands them both a headset, one with a small microphone for Dean and one with an earpiece for her best friend. “Keep it clean, no heavy breathing. The poor girl needs to stay focused.”

The cowboy glares at his cousin, but he bites his tongue, simply because the comment made his girl let out a laugh. Instead he turns on the small device and pushes it in his pocket, secures the mic to the collar of his shirt. Y/N clips the headset behind her belt as well and pushes the bud into her ear. After holding the bit in front of Meadow’s mouth for her to accept, her owner pulls the crown piece of the bridle over her horse’s ears, securing the straps. Focused on her task at hand, she notices a crucial element missing. “Crap, Grandpa’s pendant,” she realizes, pushing the reins into Jo’s hand before rushing back into the tack box.

A moment later, she returns with a small suede bag in her hand, from which she carefully allows a piece of jewelry to roll into her hand. Curious, Dean watches her pick it up between her delicate fingers, after which she attaches it to Meadow’s bridle. Two beads are laced onto a thin leather cord, and the way she handles the small yet precious object, he can tell it holds much value. “Is that your good luck charm?” Jo wonders. “Yeah,” the rider acknowledges, taking back the reins from her friend and leading Meadow out of the stable. “My grandfather gave it to me on my very first show when I was seven.”

Y/N has never ridden a test without the jewel, and she can’t picture doing so in the future. The top bead is made from her birthstone, the one dangling underneath represents a guardian angel. While taking her horse outside, she rubs Meadow’s neck, tracing the charm for a second as the setting sun catches the gem. Before she had to say goodbye to the most influential person in her life, she never really pictured anyone when she saw the little figure with wings dangling from Meadow’s browband, but now she likes to think it is him, watching over her.

A couple of minutes later, Y/N has taken a seat on Meadow’s back, who excitedly walks towards the warm up area with Dean and Jo in tow. Flanked by her trainer on her right side and her groom on the left, a hint of relief hits the cowgirl unexpectedly; she has never been surrounded by a team this solid.

The horse and rider enter the side arena, where a dozen others are warming up in what seems to be a whirlwind of sensories. Music reaches Y/N’s hearing, coming from the competition ring and mixing with loud cheers of the spectators. Trainers shout at their pupils from the sideline, the steward calling for the next on the list. In her first loop in a simple walk, someone cuts her off and Meadow pins her ears back, clearly not at ease in the chaos.

“Can you hear me?” Dean asks through the headset, leaning over the fence of the training field. The familiar warm yet gruff sound in her ear silences the distractions that have her dizzy in an instance. She looks over her shoulder at the head wrangler, nodding in response. “Okay, good. Warm her up like you would do so at home. Try to seek a space where it’s not too crowded, you don’t have to use the entire area,” Dean advises, calmly. “Just focus on my voice, alright? Take a deep breath and focus on me.”

Y/N closes her eyes for a short second and collects herself, doing precisely what he tells her to do. Throughout the warm up he never underlines what she’s doing wrong, but praises her for every right move, building her confidence. For a short period of time it has her wondering if he’s sugarcoating and isn’t giving it to her straight, but minute by minute, she finds it easier to let go of that thought. His encouraging words manage to cast away the fear of screwing up, and before she knows it, she has forgotten about the other riders in the arena, nor does she notice her distracting surroundings. All she hears is his soothing vocals, all she feels is the large animal underneath her, who seems to respond well to their trainer too. Meadow might not be able to hear Dean, but apparently senses the tension oozing from her rider, and becomes more relaxed with every stride.

It’s five minutes until her starting time, when Y/N halts by the fence, next to Jo and Dean. Her friend and groom for the day takes her cue and approaches her with the bucket, wiping down Meadow’s sweaty skin with the sponge, cleaning the mare up before it’s her time to shine. Y/N takes out her ear buds, since she’s not allowed to compete with them, and hands the headset to Jo, trading it for a water bottle. “She feels good, doesn’t she?” Dean checks, smiling up at her while he takes the plastic flask from his student. The woman in the saddle nods. “She does.”

“Y/N Y/L/N! Two minutes!” The rider feels the nerves find their traction again when she glances at the steward who called out her name. She nods in acknowledgement at the man holding a clipboard, and when Jo is done toweling Meadow down, she steers the Quarter towards the entrance of the main arena. The applause that the previous competitor receives grows louder as they approach, meeting the rider on their way over. He seems very pleased with his horse, and the first thing that comes to her mind is that he must have had a good score, a score she needs to beat. The serene mindset the wrangler got her in, is threatened to be disturbed by the stage fright that grips her by the throat. Suddenly, it hits her; this is it.

“Hey…” Dean lays his hand on her knee when he detects that he’s losing her again. “Yankee?” The cowgirl snaps her gaze from the intimidating competition ground to her trainer, who meets her with the most relaxed expression he can muster, despite his worry about her current mental state. He can tell she’s downright scared, not to fall off her horse or anything, but to make a mistake, drop the ball and to have to leave the boxing ring defeated. Right now, the illuminated soil that is about to be her stage isn’t a dance floor to Y/N. No, her eyes tell him a different story, the one of a gladiator in a colosseum, being thrown into the pit for the lions, destined to be defeated, destined to fail.

“When you go in there, I need you to forget about everything,” he starts off, earning a confused look. “What do you mean?” she wonders. “Forget the judges, forget the audience, hell, forget what I’ve told you,” Dean continues, his thumb rubbing her leg soothingly. “The only one you need to listen to, is Meadow. Feel what she tells you and trust your gut when you answer. Let go of all the rest, alright?”

Y/N nods, wetting her dry lips, shooting another glance at the arena before she looks down on the man who has been able to ground her like only one other person has. Dean seems to know who is on her mind, because he reaches for the pendant attached to her horse’s bridle. “He’s with you, and I will be waiting right here, no matter what. You got this, Yankee.”

The encouraging words close off her throat much like the anxiety did earlier, but this time the sentiment is welcoming. Dean’s pep talk helped her see what is truly important, and that this moment is just a short clip of a larger motion picture. She has Meadow, she has Dean, and she has the memory of her grandfather, along with all the wise life lessons that he taught her. Whatever happens in the coming five minutes, that will not change. She trusts the beacon of support that is the man by her side. But in this very moment, most importantly, she trusts Meadow.

Y/N breathes in through her nose and exhales slowly, rubbing her horse’s shoulder, more confident than she has felt all week. The gatekeeper opens the fence for the horse and rider, nothing standing between them and the brightly lit competition ring.

“The next contestant of the evening is Y/N Y/L/N, all the way from Freeport, Maine. This young lady rides Meadowsweet, a nine year old mare sired by Gunner, and these two have made a name for themselves already. Folks, you are going to be watching the current State Champion and this pair has qualified for the prestigious All American Quarter Horse Congress in three weeks. This will be the premiere of their brand new freestyle, so get ready for a rock ‘n roll ride, y’all.”

Y/N peers into the grand arena, tilting her hat forward just enough to keep the spotlights from blinding her. She can feel Dean’s fingers slip from her knee, setting her free now that she has taken control. Focused and determined, the cowgirl makes eye contact with the sound technician, raising her hand. Showtime.

The first tones of Led Zeppelin’s Stairway To Heaven begins to play, and Y/N enters the arena slowly. The timid music silences the crowd, suspense hanging thick in the air. Meadow moves down the centerline and halts, her head low and submissive, waiting for her cue. The intro finishes, the acoustic notes dying down and leaving a second long silence. Knowing the music by heart, the woman in the saddle squeezes her fist holding the reins slightly, preparing Meadow for what is about to come. Then, right as Immigrant Song rings in her ears, she sends her Quarterhorse into a spin.

With high speed and great technique, the mare revolves on the spot like a helicopter rotor, and after going full circle four times stops dead in her tracks, before doing the exact same movement, only this time turning right. The crowd goes absolutely ballistic, and it’s then that Y/N feels a wide smile spreading on her face; she’s gonna nail this run.

One small aid is enough to push Meadow forward, the horse shooting down the centerline like an arrow leaving its bow. With only a few yards between the cowgirl and the judges, she sits back in the saddle, signalling Meadow to dig her hind legs into the ground and progress into an impressive sliding stop. It’s bold, because if the maneuver isn’t spot on, the panel will easily detect the error. The execution is perfect, however, and gathering from the entertained and impressed expressions on the judges’ faces, Y/N’s game plan is working.

With attitude, Meadow rolls back and races around the arena on a large circle, her long strides evenly powerful and rhythmic, this time to the soundtrack of Whole Lotta Love. With her left hand forward between the bay horse’s ears, the cowgirl peers down the path that’s to come, and after having gone full circle, she switches to a left canter through a flying change and mirrors the previous pattern.

The buzz ignited by both the thrilling ride and the response of the audience only fuels her confidence. When she exits the last full speed circle, she transitions into a lope, a collected gate Meadow masters well. The horse and rider combination crosses the arena through a neat half pass. It’s a sideways movement right in front of the judges, the talented mare showing off her reach and finesse.

Not once does Y/N have to correct her dancing partner, every small cue effective. Meadow follows the instructions without question, unable to give a damn about the vibrant ambiance. It’s almost as if the animal can read her owner’s mind, a telepathic connection which can only be established when human and horse have that click and share an unique bond. This is what horse riding is all about, this is the ultimate goal. Two hearts beating as one.

The music builds up to its zenith and shifts to the finishing electric guitar solo in Stairway To Heaven, by the same famous rock band that has been the backing track to this epic performance. On the diagonal, Meadow picks up speed again, her strong muscles rippling under her copper colored coat. The thousand pound being reaches a speed of forty-five miles an hour, accelerating until the opposite corner, where she performs another perfect stop followed by a roll back. There is not a speck of hesitation or doubt, nor any sign of fatigue, despite a sequential series of maneuvers.

After a third stop, she has executed the mandatory patterns, and all that’s left is to go out with a bang. Y/N sends Meadow into one final spin, the tremendous momentum having her dizzy. The sheer power radiating from under her only heightens the high the cowgirl is experiencing, the adrenaline coursing through her veins with the same speed as her horse is turning. After the rapid pirouettes, Meadow breaks off the maneuver on cue in the dead center of the arena, facing the judges. The cheering and whistling crowd almost overrules the dying sound of the guitar strings that are the last notes of the freestyle. Unable to comprehend what just happened, Y/N drops the reins, spreads her arms and folds them around her horse’s neck. Overcome with emotion she hugs her four-legged friend, without words thanking her for the ride of her life.

Only then the cowgirl realizes the roar coming from the spectators, many of them having risen to their feet. As the commentator praises her performance, she circles Meadow back toward the exit of the ring, waving at the enthusiastic kids on the first row. In that four minute run, Y/N and Meadow have stolen the hearts of everyone who is here to witness the definition of horsemanship. She can’t stop herself from smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt while her horse walks along the bleachers, the mare looking at the applauding audience, seeming to understand that it’s for her.

As they approach the gate, the rider hears one girl squeal above all others. Y/N hasn’t even looked in the direction of where the sound came from, but she already knows it’s Jo. Dancing on her feet in absolute delight, she meets her by the fence and high fives her best friend. “God damn, Sis! You rocked out there!” she exclaims, patting Meadow on her neck as well.

Y/N laughs full heartedly at her giddy friend, the ecstasy of her perfect run still in full effect. But when her gaze meets Dean’s, that happiness becomes overwhelming. The handsome cowboy is waiting for her, just like he promised. Gleaming eyes match his sly smirk, but there’s more to the expression, sentiment swimming in his emerald greens. The sight of him breaks something inside of her, and she’s unable to keep the tears at bay.

It’s then that Meadow halts, and just outside of the main arena, Dean steps towards his girl and pulls her into a hug. With her left hand still holding the reins, Y/N embraces the man who she owes so much gratitude. After all, if it wasn’t for him, the freestyle wouldn’t have turned out remotely as good, not to mention that the stress would have done her in. Today he was more than just a trainer or her boyfriend. He was the anchor that kept her grounded, the rock that wouldn’t budge when the waves crashed against her, and the sign that she needed to get out of the maze of self-doubt. She can feel Dean nuzzle his nose into her hair. “I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispers, words only meant for her to hear. Moved by his words, she hugs him a little tighter before she lets him go and wipes away her happy tears. A smile that reaches his ears is still there when she pulls herself together again. “She - she was absolutely amazing,” Y/N stammers, combing her fingers through Meadow’s mane. “The feeling she gave me… I can’t explain it. It was like we were flying.” “That’s because you were, Amelia Earhart,” Jo quips, clearly over the moon for her friend. “Want me to cool Meadow down so you can wait here for your score?”

Y/N nods, feeling her horse’s flanks expand rather rapidly every time the large animal inhales; she really gave it her everything. Once the cowgirl has both feet planted on solid ground, she scratches the mare’s favorite spot behind her ear, facing the beautiful Quarter. Meadow presses her large head against her owner’s chest, more to get rid of an itch than to return the love, making her human giggle. Then the rider hands over the reins to Jo, who takes the bay horse away from the commotion.

Still stunned, Y/N takes another breath, glancing back into the arena. “Did they call the points yet?” Dean comes to stand next to her, gazing at the board in the corner, above the bleachers. “No, I didn’t hear anything.” With her hands placed on her waist, she breathes in, trying to ignore her stomach, which begins to do backflips again. This time, there is not much she can do to influence the outcome, however. Meadow did the best she could and she didn’t make a single mistake; Y/N couldn’t have wished for more. But the new freestyle hasn’t been graded yet, so how the judges will reward the music and the degree of difficulty is still a mystery. The rider tries to tell herself that no matter what number will appear on the screen, she’s satisfied with today’s performance. But as seconds tick by, the suspense builds and eats at her composure.

She can feel Dean’s hand on the small of her back, fingertips tracing soft, calming circles. The motion helps her to pull her gaze away from the digital board, and she glances at the man by her side. Focusing on him has worked so far, so as the tension rises, she tries that tactic again. The world around her stops, her own breathing the only sound she hears, Dean’s touch the only sensation she feels. For a moment, time slows down. But when her trainer’s eyes widen and his jaw falls slack in disbelief, she’s almost too afraid to look at the definite white numbers that can make or break her evening.

It’s only when the crowd erupts that she dares to face the verdict, and what she witnesses, triggers her to clasp her hand over her mouth. Completely stunned, her eyes stay locked on the score, convinced that if she blinks, the numbers will change. She barely registers her boyfriend letting out a cheer, pumping his fists into the air and bouncing on his feet like a little kid. Her view is obstructed when strong arms wrap around her middle and lift her off the ground, but when her gaze locks on the display again, it still tells the same story of victory.

220.5 points.

Unknowingly, she holds her breath, her heart still beating against her chest so wildly, that her cowboy must be able to feel it too. It’s not just a personal best; it tops her old record by three whole points. She broke through the two-twenties, something she only ever dreamed of accomplishing, yet here she is. Shutting her eyes, her thoughts go out to her grandfather, realizing that she has done her guardian angel proud once more.

Dean must have sensed that she got lost in her own head, because he brings her back down from the heavens to their world with a gentle touch upon her cheek. He wipes a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes off her hat, looking at her with so much adoration. His hand slips to the nape of her neck, his forehead bowing to gently rest against hers. Radiant light touches everything in reach, leaving what’s behind them in darkness, together with all the worries and fears. The audience doesn’t seem to be applauding the high score anymore, the wolf whistles and bellows of encouragement instead directed at the couple in the spotlight. Dean didn’t need any more motivation, his lips encasing hers in a soft kiss.

Closing her eyes, she cherishes the moment and smiles against his mouth when Dean uses her cowboy hat to shield them away from all the extra attention. It is in this instance the equestrian realizes something; out of all the rides that she experienced, either in the saddle or in life, this is the one that will go down in memory.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-tree here

#Ride With Me #Cowboy!Dean #Dean x Reader #Supernatural AU #Dean Winchester #Supernatural #Supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfiction

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softjeon · 3 years

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Falling for you | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon • Genre: fluff, nsfw-content | Rating: Mature | Christmas!AU / Curse!AU • Words: 12k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of blood, accidents, alcohol

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Everyone told him that love was the highest aim, that it was what completes you and made you happy…but he was never lucky like that. It just took a piece of him and left scars on his heart every time. He was done with that. He had given up on love a long time ago so he should stick to it or else not only he would be affected.

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It was a beautiful winter evening; a crisp cold breeze blew around him when he hurried into the massive building again, shaking himself as if he could get rid of the cold like that. With a smile, and a nod towards the doorman, Jungkook went up to Namjoon’s apartment. In his head, he went through their ‘to-do-list’ again, making sure he wouldn’t forget a thing.

“Merry Christmas!” He yelled happily, when the metal doors opened, and he walked in with an even bigger smile. “Or almost Christmas!”

Namjoon just looked up briefly, not really bothered by Jungkook's vocal proclamation of his love for Christmas because he was used to it. “What’s up with you, you don’t even have your reindeer antlers on yet.” He commented dryly - which was not something he had made up. Jungkook did actually own a pair of small, velveteen, light brown antlers that were fixed on a small headband that was decorated further with bits and pieces of dried wintery flowers and moss.

The headband easily vanished under his fluffy hair and so it looked as if the antlers and flowers were sprouting from his head. He’s head business partners who didn’t know Jungkook do a double take on him and then carefully ask if he was a hired actor in some winter play.

“I knew you liked that one!” Jungkook laughed happily, as he joined Namjoon at the kitchen table. “I should get you a pair as well. You’d look so cute in it.” Placing a few folders in front of Namjoon, he leaned his chin on his hand, blinking at his boss dreamily. “Reaaaally cute.” He cooed, before adding a little more seriously. “Those are the ideas from your team for the summer designs.” They were always two steps ahead of the others and while it was Christmas they were already planning their summer releases, the decorations for the stores or the color schemes. Namjoon was a perfectionist.

When Namjoon took the folders without even looking at them, but kept doodling on his tablet, Jungkook leaned in a little more. “What are you drawing?”

“Nothing!” Namjoon flipped the tablet shut so quickly he hit himself on the hand with it. Initially he had started a design for a new couch, but his mind had used ‘couch’ as cue to wander into different territory… like how Jimin had fallen asleep in his arms completely and how he had wished he could stay like this all night but had to get up because of the driver and the fact that he just couldn’t stay there without having been invited by Jimin before. So, he had moved carefully to the side, inch by inch until he could place Jimin down softly and then had walked into the bathroom on his tiptoes to get rid of the waste and get a soft, damp towel to clean Jimin up. Jimin was apparently a heavy sleeper because he hadn’t even woken up, just sighed comfortably and curled a little tighter on the couch. Namjoon had placed the blanket that they had been laying on in the beginning but had fallen down somewhen over Jimin’s body, amazed by the fact that he could wrap Jimin up in it completely. The younger had looked so soft and tiny curled up there on the couch that Namjoon had leaned down and stolen one last, sweet kiss.

Then he had left the apartment with heated cheeks….

Somehow his hand had started to transfer those memories onto the screen, and he had started to draw a person onto the sketch of his couch - luckily not detailed enough for it to be recognized as Jimin.

Jungkook leaned back, confusion written all over his face when Namjoon reacted like that. The other always shared ideas with him. When Namjoon got up, he hurried after him, a million and one questions on his mind. And he couldn’t wait to squeeze the answers out of his boss or snatch his tablet away. There was definitely not ‘nothing’.

…

Jimin took a deep breath but no matter how many times he did, his heart didn’t seem to calm down. He had spent twenty minutes worrying and wrecking his mind whether he had a fever dream or if it really happened – but the bruises around his hips (and his shin, from where he had slipped) showed the truth.

He had slept with Kim Namjoon.

The Kim Namjoon.

His boss.

Hayoung’s Boss.

A curse slipped from him when he pushed down the button of the elevator. He still had a job to do and even though it was only a couple more days, Jimin was really worried. Couldn’t he just stick with the invitation for the Christmas party? Or spending Christmas together? Why didn’t he just marry him right away? Jimin groaned, hating his thoughts for spiraling so fast, making him even more nervous.

What if this was just a onetime thing for Namjoon? No big deal, where he just moved on? Jimin bit his lip. The ring of the elevator sound signaling that he was on his level. When he walked in, he could hear faint noises coming from Namjoon’s office and Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. Quickly, he turned around, putting his own belongings aside to get out the cleaning supplies.

“Oh, I need your signature for the check.” Jungkook’s voice startled Jimin effectively and he hit his head on the cupboard lightly, when the younger one came out of the office, followed by Namjoon. Neither hadn’t seen him yet. “It’s for the Christmas party. I booked a karaoke machine and ordered all kinds of Christmas shaped cookies. You should really come this year. It will be even better than last year!”

“I actually might...” Namjoon murmured, trying to ease himself into it and hoping that Jungkook wouldn’t yell at him in surprise right away. He was focused on holding Jungkook clipboard with the check while singing and walking at the same time that he only saw Jimin when they were pretty close. He froze up. He hadn’t expected to have Jungkook by his side when he’d see Jimin again. Should he pretend that nothing happened so that Jimin and he had the option to talk later in peace? Did Jimin even want to talk about it?

Jungkook, always quick to pick up on mood changes of his boss eyed him warily. What was even more suspicious though was that Jimin behaved strangely as well. “Is... everything okay?”

Jimin was all ears, when Jungkook made it sound as if Namjoon hadn’t been at the Christmas party the years before, remembering their conversation in the elevator. He was still rubbing the back of his head, when they both stared at each other, a little too long for it to seem normal.

“H-hi,” He finally managed to say. “I’m cleaning the floors!” Jimin was about to smack himself hard for that stupid statement, when all of them knew he was there to clean. His cheeks were red and hot, and he quickly turned around to fill up the bucket with water, glad for some distraction.

“Yeah...that’s...kind of obvious?” Jungkook looked back to his boss who seemed still securely rooted to the floor and back to Jimin who was blushing brightly. “Oh! Uhm, boss, I’m really sorry but I just remembered that I forgot something on the second floor. I’ll catch up with you later?” He patted Namjoon on the back, hoping it would encourage him to do something other than standing around silently and then he hurried back to the elevator. It was really difficult to fight the instinct to look over his shoulder to see what they were doing or to hide in the next office to listen in on them.

“So, is this your first year or…” Jimin filled the water up with some soap to clean. “The Christmas party…” His voice was quiet, a little unsure as he turned around to look at Namjoon – only for a few seconds before he averted his gaze again. Taking the filled bucket, he placed it on the kitchen floor, glad that there was his job that he still needed to do and kept him busy.

The Christmas party. That’s what Jimin was curious about. Namjoon wasn’t quite sure if he felt disappointed or relieved that they weren’t talking about what had happened between them. “It’s not the first year, no, Jungkook organizes them every year.” He answered vaguely, leaving his part in it deliberately out of it.

“You said that” Jimin leaned his head aside, “I just wondered if you were going for the first time this year. He made it sound like that and…” He looked down, shrugging his shoulders, “And it made me curious if you want to go for a different reason this year.”

“It’s... yeah, I kind of... I haven’t been there before. Thought I’d let my people have a fun night without their boss, but... Jungkook’s been asking me to come so often now I figured I should attend at least once.” He carefully straightened his tie because lying made him nervous and he needed to do something with his hands.

“Oh,” Jimin had expected a different answer. Something to do with him and Jimin gave him a quick smile before they were back to staring at each other like before. There was the kitchen counter between them, enough space to not feel closed in but Jimin felt it, nonetheless. His heart was racing. “D-do you want to…like talk about what happened?” He awkwardly held onto the stick of the mop.

Namjoon swallowed hard and his heart stumbled as it skipped a beat. “Only if you want to talk about it. I mean... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, we can... talk here or in my office or we can just...” He didn’t want to pretend it never happened because it did and he was so glad that it happened he would deal with ten times the awkwardness just to be able to remember the taste of Jimin’s lips and the feel of the younger’s skin against his. “Whatever you need...” He finished quietly, careful that no one who wasn’t supposed to hear them could accidentally overhear what they were saying.

Jimin breathed out, putting the cleaning supplies aside, as he stepped a little closer to Namjoon. He looked up at him with a shy smile. “I liked it,” It rolled quickly over his tongue, making his cheeks blush even more. “D-did you like it?” Jimin pushed a string of hair out of his face and behind his ear. “It’s only a few more days until Christmas and...when Hayoung is back...I know we talked about Christmas and the party, but....I’m not sure if it was just us joking because of the situation or because…” Jimin didn’t dare to ask if there was more, if Namjoon felt the tingling feeling inside his stomach too and if he wanted to explore what else there was. He really wanted to know, the curiosity making his heart flutter.

“So, you’d still want to cook for me on Christmas?” If Jimin’s would have been sex then he had no reason to still try and get to know him. A comfortable warmth spread through him at the thought of not being alone on Christmas and even better, spending it with someone who’s company he’d immensely enjoyed so far. “Yes, I liked it a lot. I’d like to repeat it some time. After dinner maybe.” And in a bedroom, staying the night, cuddling... there was so much he suddenly wanted.

“For you?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he pouted his lips. “I thought I’d be cooking with you.” He blushed at Namjoon’s words. It sounded like a date and a lot more than two people just spending time together. And he couldn’t wait to do so.

“Oh, well.. then I have to warn you, I’m not used to people standing in my kitchen while I’m there, I might accidentally run into you.” Or pour something over Jimin’s shirt so that he would have to undress. “Do you have a special menu that you like to make on Christmas? Then I’ll make sure to get all the ingredients.” At the moment his refrigerator was pretty empty.

“I’ll think of something tasty,” Jimin winked, soothing over Namjoon’s arm fleetingly before turning back around to get his supplies. He still had a lot to clean.

…

Downstairs, Yoongi walked in the office complex with confidence, not even answering the security who asked for his name or who he was there for. His gaze fell onto the numbers appearing on the board over the elevator and he smiled. When the metal doors opened, Yoongi didn’t step aside but walked in without looking up, bumping right into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Jungkook immediately apologized out of reflex even though the other had run straight into him without looking. When he finally did Jungkook was sure he had never seen him at the company before. He would have definitely remembered a face like that, soft and pale but with eyes so dark and burning they reminded him of coals after a bonfire when the glimmering heat still lingered. He shook himself out of his daydreams, a little confused as to why he had lost his focus. “May I help you? This is Kim design. I don’t think you’ve got an appointment here.” He would know because he would have put it into Namjoon’s schedule.

“Oh, you may…” Yoongi’s eyes changed from surprise to a pleasant expression. The young man he had bumped into was the prettiest human he’d ever seen. And his voice sounded like honey, the sweetest tone he ever heard. “Oh, I sure have an appointment.” He smiled pointing at Jungkook’s book that seemed to be a calendar. When the younger lifted it, still adamant on not knowing about an appointment, he tapped the cover twice, leaning in just a little. “Are you trying to tell me Mr. Kim forgot our appointment and isn’t here? I’m pretty sure we have an appointment. Why don’t you look?”

Jungkook swallowed down his remark that there was no way he had an appointment because otherwise he would know - but he had learned pretty early on that smiling and doing what Namjoon’s business partners wanted was the better decision if he didn’t want a grown man in a suit yelling at him. Not that the other was wearing a suit...

He carefully eyed the man’s clothes, something dark and shimmering hidden under his coat that looked pretty interesting. Too bad he would have to send the other away in a moment. As requested he opened his calendar with a smile, opening the page for today and pointing at the space for right now. “As you see there’s..” His voice faltered. There was an entry. In black ink. For right this moment. Jungkook stared at it in total disbelief. He could have sworn that the space had been empty five minutes ago and he also knew that he had never ever heard the name Min Yoongi before. But apparently he must have because it was written in his own handwriting. “I’m… I’m... so sorry Mister Min, I didn’t... I must have confused the dates...” He stuttered, still staring onto the page as if he couldn’t trust his own eyes.

“I know, I know it’s pretty late for an appointment but I’m a busy man.” Yoongi grinned, pushing down a button, then another one before pressing almost every single one of them – because he wasn’t quite sure which floor his office was and also he loved peeking.

He hooked his arm under Jungkook’s almost gasping out loud, when he felt the muscles strain against the suit, but he could restrain himself from groping the younger more. “You can call me, Yoongi or love. Babe is fine, too. Whatever you prefer.” He winked at the startled Jungkook, nudging him slightly. “Relax. If you keep me company until Namjoon arrives I’m sure I’ll have a great time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook tensed up right away. Yoongi wouldn’t be the first businessman to try and flirt with him like that but he could always count on Namjoon to make sure that people who overstepped the line would not stay with the company. “I’d like to keep it professional, Mr. Min as I’m sure Mr. Kim would prefer.” He furrowed his brows when he realized that Yoongi knew his name without him mentioning it. He must have told the other when they had spoken about his appointment? It made him feel crazy that he really couldn't remember it at all!

Yoongi furrowed his brows, giving Jungkook a little more distance. “Oh, no…I’m not really a business partner like that.” He chuckled softly, reaching into the pocket inside his jacket. “I’m more of a… consultant. I help Namjoon with decisions on his business or his life. Whatever he needs me for.” He was happy with his quick lie, taking out what seemed to be a simple stack of cards. “You really don’t have to be professional with me or have to be afraid.” When the doors opened again and they arrived at the office, Yoongi began to shuffle his cards delicately. “Tell me Jungkook, do you believe in magic?” He turned around with a warm smile, walking a few steps backwards.

Jungkook definitely knew one thing: Yoongi was…special. He had never heard of Namjoon asking someone for advice about his business and he was pretty sure Namjoon would never let someone mess with his personal life and yet there Yoongi was, talking about Namjoon as if he knew him inside and out, joking around and playing with cards. “I.-. I like the thought of it being true..-” he confessed before he could stop himself. Somehow the words poured out of him without his permission so he quickly added. “I can distinguish between dreams and reality of course!”

Yoongi hummed, drumming his fingers on his cards. “That’s good.” He walked ahead as if he knew right where he needed to be, just taking the route down to the biggest office he could find before walking in and letting his instincts lead him. There was a conference table right beside Namjoon’s office desk, so Yoongi took a seat, motioning for Jungkook to follow him. “You can call him, if you want…” His eyes were piercing right through the youngers and yet, they were warm and inviting, placing the cards out in front of them.

Jungkook hesitated, drawn in by the beautiful cards. He had placed them front down on the table as if he were ready to pick one, like a fortune teller ready to tell him his future. “What do you need them for if I may ask?” The backside of the cards was decorated with intricate symbols, some highlighted in a shimmering golden color.

“I need them to answer your questions.” Yoongi leaned his head aside, liking how the younger was intrigued, finally following him, and sitting down at the other end. “Or usually Namjoons, but he isn’t here right now.” He sighed deeply, letting his fingertips hover over the cards. “Do you want to try?”

“You help Namjoon make choices by using your cards?” Now he was hooked. “He never told me any of that! How long do you two know each other?” He leaned forward reaching out but then withdrawing his hand. He had heard that touching the cards just for fun before actually asking a question would mess them up. “I’d really like to... but I don’t have any questions at the moment. At least none that the cards can answer.”

“I help in many ways.” He winked, before Jungkook hesitation made him raise an eyebrow. Leaning his chin on his hands, he locked his eyes with the younger. “Tell me your questions if you’re comfortable with them. Maybe I can answer them anyways.” Yoongi didn’t even mind that Jungkook had completely forgotten to call Namjoon, yet. He enjoyed their encounter way too much.

Jungkook chuckled, “I can but I don’t think you can answer them. I’d like to know if the Christmas party will work out and everyone will have a nice time. I would like to know if Kim design will have a great year again next year and if Namjoon will finally be able to take a bit more time for himself instead of working all the time. I’d like to see him smile more often...” Did he really tell all that to a man he had just met for the first time? His cheeks blushed as he kept his eyes trained down on the cards.

“You really care about him, hm. He really is lucky to have you because he needs more people like you.” Yoongi began to mindlessly push the cards around, sorting them differently, putting a few back into the stack of cards. “I can ensure you; your Christmas party will be amazing. I heard Namjoon talking about it. He really wants to come this year, I think. Do you feel like he’s changing?”

“I do. And I really hope he does.” Jungkook cocked his head, “Not really changing, no, but there is something different about him. I think he might have finally found something else to put his heart onto and instead of being completely consumed by his work he starts to see past it. There are so many more reasons to get up in the morning than just because your work schedule tells you to. I feel like he’s finally starting to get a glimpse of that.”

“You are right,” Yoongi nodded, adding the reason ‘Jeon Jungkook’ as another one on his own list, because that man was the sweetest, kindest person he’d ever talked to. He could feel the warmth and passion radiate from him, the positivity that was surrounding him. He wanted nothing but to make all the people around him happy and Yoongi could feel it resonating within him. But there was something else that made him worried.

“You said he found something…you’re not really talking about a hobby, right?” He didn’t really look at Jungkook, as he turned around three of them. There was a wheel of fortune, but it was reversed, and it was making Yoongi bite his lip, while his eyes flickered to the next card. All of them seemed to be upside down; the second card was showing a hermit and the last one was the chariot. “Oh…”

“What is it?” Jungkook leaned over to get a better look at what Yoongi had picked. To him all the cards looked really pretty but he knew that they could all have different meanings, a pretty picture didn’t necessarily mean a good thing and the other way round.

“I’m not sure what they are referring to exactly…it’s not clear, but this one…” He pointed at the wheel of fortune. “Turned upside down like this, it means someone is losing control. And this one, the hermit, it kind of stands for isolation and loneliness. While the chariot emphasizes the lack of control again. It seems as if Namjoon is quite directionless. Or he will be.” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, mumbling something about him telling Namjoon so as he shook his head.

Jungkook shook his head in denial, getting out of his chair. “It’s not fair to read Namjoon’s cards when he isn’t even there and I’m sure the reading would be way better if he was present. Or there was a mistake. Namjoon is fine. I’ll… I’ll get him for you now. Sorry for stalling.” With that he went out the door to call Namjoon - and explain to him why he had an appointment that late that he hadn’t told him about before.

Yoongi looked after the younger, sighing softly as a smile stole it’s way on his lips. He turned around another card, the smile turning brighter when it showed the symbol of the sun. Flipping the card back around, he pushed it towards where Jungkook sat before and began to collect the rest.

…

Carrying the laundry, Jimin crossed the living room again, when his eyes flickered over to Namjoon who was deeply immersed in his work at the kitchen table. When their eyes met, he accidentally stumbled over the end of a rug, giggling the embarrassment away before vanishing into the laundry room.

Just when he was gone the telephone rang and Namjoon picked it up automatically. On the other side of the line was Jungkook, explaining very sheepishly that there had been a mishap and he had forgotten to tell him about the appointment his consultant had made. Namjoon was quiet for a moment. “My what?” There was absolutely no one that deserved that title. He had consultants when he tried working with different materials or when he was trying a new marketing strategy but right now there was no one like that who he needed to meet up with.

“Your consultant? Or...or friend I think. Yoongi?” Jungkook sounded small, the mistake still nagging him and Namjoon’s bewildered reaction aiding further to make him contrite.

“Yoongi… he’s at the company? With an appointment? Right now? And you... you talked to him?” He felt like he had ants running all over his skin. This was the third time Yoongi showed up when normally he only came by like once a month at most. Had he told anything to Jungkook? About the start of the company? “Okay, you can.. you can get off early tonight. I’ll be there in a second.” As much as he hated the thought of leaving Yoongi alone at the company he figured that the other could walk to wherever he wanted anyways with his magic and he rather kept Jungkook away from him. Who knew what kind of deal Yoongi would try to make with the younger.

Opening up the dishwasher, Jimin began to sort the clothes, quietly humming a song to himself. He was lightly dancing, singing a little louder. Leaning back down, he got out another shirt, when Namjoon’s sudden enthusiasm to get up and to his office startled him effectively and he shot up, hitting the back of his head on the edge of the cupboard. He yelped in pain, blinking his eyes because for a moment he saw nothing but a few spots dancing around in front of him.

“Jimin?” Namjoon froze at the younger’s outcry of pain. “Are you alright?” When he didn't get an answer right away he immediately went into the laundry room where he saw Jimin rub the back of his head. “Did you hit your head? I have to get back to the office, but I can get you some ice first. Please don’t hurt yourself again while I’m gone, can you do that?” He teased him a little.

Jimin hummed in response, the pain too evident on the back of his head. “I’ll try not to.” He wondered why Namjoon had to run to the office out of a sudden again but promised that he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore. He was almost done with cleaning anyways, although he had hoped to stall his time a little at the end with Namjoon.

Only when Jimin was taken care of did Namjoon call himself a car. On the ride he was fidgety, trying to calm himself down and not rack his brain about why Yoongi was there, what he might want and what he could possibly do to make him comply.

Yoongi was bored out of his mind, staring at the wall as he swirled around in Namjoon’s chair. He had tried out every single one in his office but this one turned the smoothest.

That's how Namjoon found him.

He was a little out of breath because he had walked as fast as he could to get there (without actually running because running would mean he was desperate and Yoongi might see him with his… third eye or something) “Are you having fun? I hope you didn’t make Jungkook ask me here just because you wanted a new chair.”

“Oh, there you are!” Yoongi came to a halt, motioning for Namjoon to take a seat as if it was his office and not the other way around. “We had an appointment, right? It said so in his calendar. That’s why I’m here…” Leaning over the desk, he let his gaze wander around. “I really like what you made out of our deal, Namjoon. Are you happy with it?”

“You can’t fool me, Yoongi. And please don’t mess with Jungkook again, the poor boy will double check every appointment now and blame himself for it when we both know that it wasn’t his fault he had no idea of that ‘magical appointment’. If you want to talk to me you can just call me.” He took a breath, trying to find a hook in Yoongi’s statement but there was none. “Yes, thank you, I’m happy. Why, do you want to terminate our contract?” He had often wondered how or when it would end - and what would be the consequences. It wasn’t like he was being lazy and letting Yoongi do all the work in his company so even without magical help he should be fine... right?

“Where would be the fun in that?” Yoongi pursed his lips, getting up to look at the designs that were hanging on the pinboard of Namjoon’s office. “I just wondered…you really made a lot of what I gave you. You build an entire empire and dare I say, I couldn’t be any prouder.” Yoongi turned around waving Namjoon off, “Oh no, please. I’m fine. I don’t need to terminate anything. I’m just feeling sentimental this Christmas.” The witch sighed deeply, taking out the three cards he had picked earlier and giving them to Namjoon. “They were turned upside down. I like you, Namjoon and sometimes I worry…if this is really what you wanted.” He patted the other’s shoulder, passing by him.

Namjoon took the cards. There were pictures on it, and he knew that they were probably tarot cards but other than that he had no idea what they were supposed to mean. He only realized that Yoongi wasn’t just walking around in the room than out when there was silence. He turned and Yoongi was nowhere to be seen.

“Wh…wait! What does that mean? What do you want? Did you just call me here to give me those cards? Am I supposed to do something with them? I’m not magic!”

A/N: Happy third Advent! We hope you enjoy this little story until now :)

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maddiewritesstucky · 4 years

Text

Call me maybe (but only during business hours)

A smutty gift for @raynakiasbel, for her endless patience with my infuriatingly slow writing and inability to focus on one thing at a time!

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3308

Tags: CEO Steve, College Student Bucky, Poorly-Timed Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Light Daddy Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones

Part 1 of the SugarVerse series on Ao3

Bucky is most definitely not watching the clock.

His eyes have absolutely not been glued to the LED display on the bedside table for what feels like a hundred goddamn years, watching the little white lines form number after number, blinking their way into the formation that will mean he can pick up his phone, and call Steve.

That would be all kinds of pathetic, and Bucky is not that kind of boyfriend.

He’s certainly not the kind of boyfriend who’s already fixing to climb out of his skin on day three (three!) of Steve’s out-of-town business trip. Bucky is one of those autonomous, self-sufficient boyfriends, who is entirely too busy with his own obscenely full schedule to care about the fact that he’s not getting dicked down at his every whim this week.

He has midterms to study for, and hours to log at StarkTech to go towards his internship, and Nat’s surprise birthday party to plan even though she’s literally impossible to surprise…he doesn’t have the mental real estate to spare on thirst right now. He might have become a whole other kind of hoe since being exposed to the many splendors of Steve Rogers’ cock, but twitching for it before they’ve even hit the seventy-two hour mark?

That would be highly problematic, if that was happening.

Which it isn’t.

Bucky is well accustomed to flying solo when Steve’s off in corporate alter-ego mode; he’s done this countless times over the past few months since he moved in with Steve, and he’d made his peace with it long before that. You don’t couple up with the CEO of an internationally renowned architecture firm and expect to see his face at the dinner table every night, and for the most part, Bucky has no complaints about having the stupidly plush bed all to his starfishing self a few nights a month.

It’s just...there’s a method to this, usually. And that method does not involve three entire days of near radio silence.

When Steve goes away, even on his busier trips, he always finds time to call Bucky at least once a day, even if it’s just five minutes as he’s crawling into bed to say goodnight. They’ll text, and Steve will send emails that are endearingly formal because his brain tends to stay in CEO-mode 24/7 when he’s on business trips, and they’ll generally tide one another over with tidbits of cyber-affection until they get back in the same physical space.

But this time? They’ve hardly been in contact at all. And it’s on Bucky, too, at least in part - he’s been swamped with his own workload the past few weeks, struggling to find quality time or head space even in the few days just before Steve left, and all they’ve managed so far is a few sporadic messages in their rare moments of down-time, which have so far been chaotically misaligned.

It’s been a drag, if Bucky’s honest, and he can occupy himself all he wants with his exam prep and his party-plotting, but at the end of the day…

Bucky’s just a boy, laying in front of a clock, asking his dick to hold out just a few more minutes.

Because right now, it’s 10:42pm.

It’s 10:42pm, which means that in exactly three minutes, Steve will be sliding into the crisp white sheets of whatever lavish hotel bed he’s being put up in; buck-ass naked because he’s as stringent on his no-pyjamas policy as he is on his bed time, and in exactly three minutes…

Bucky’s gonna call him, and phone-fuck the soul right out of his offensively perfect body.

He flips onto his back and nestles into the pillows, a dumb grin already fixing to his face in his hormone-fuelled stupor. The lights of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows bathe his naked skin in soft orange-gold, and his hand migrates of its own accord to the semi he’s been rocking ever since it occurred to him that he could just straight up call Steve and spring a jerk-sesh on him.

The whole thing feels deliciously sneaky-skanky. He’s never done this before, just cold-called Steve with an x-rated agenda. They’ve had phone sex before, a great many times in fact, but there’s always a lead-in; a text exchange turned sordid that spirals into a video call straight out of Bucky’s horny teenage fantasies.

But he’s never gone in jizz-first, ask-questions-later, and as certain as he is that Steve will be entirely on board, it feels just risky enough to have Bucky a little high off the adrenaline of it.

Here lies Bucky, Queen of the Sluts! Stretched out bare atop cream colored sheets, lit up by the New York skyline! Dick in hand and filth on the tip of his tongue!

He is power! He is scandal! He is ready for this!

He pulls the lube out from its hiding place under the pillow and slicks himself up, stroking slow as he tries to summon some small measure of nonchalance about the whole thing. He has a vision for how he wants this to go, and it does not involve him losing his cool the second he hears Steve’s voice on the other end of the line.

This is about seduction, about surprising Steve with some old-school nasty, no video or visuals involved - just Bucky’s filthy mouth and vivid imagination, and he’s determined to keep it together long enough to paint Steve a picture he can jack it to.

He pulls up Steve’s contact and waits out the final torturous minute with his heart in his throat, hitting the call button the second it ticks over to go-time. He hits the speakerphone button, dropping the phone onto the pillow next to him, and holds his breath through the four rings it takes for Steve to pick up.

“...James?”

And oh, but that bodes well...Steve uses his real name in two contexts, and two contexts only - when Bucky visits him at work and he’s in business mode, and when he’s got Bucky flat on his back underneath him, letting him have it.

If Steve’s already keyed up tonight? This just got a lot more interesting.

“Mm, there it is,” Bucky heaves a deep sigh, “that’s what I needed, that voice...”

His mind’s eye conjures up visions of Steve spread out across the bed, taut lines of muscle and bare flesh all laid out. He’s probably just had a shower, so his skin would be all warm and pink, smelling like soap and aftershave; his hair all fluffy from that irreverent way he has of rubbing it towel-dry...god, Bucky misses him.

“James? Are you alright?”

He can practically hear Steve’s brows drawing together in that way they do when he’s overworked; a tight-wound tension in his voice that Bucky has every confidence he can allay before the night’s through.

“Mm, be a lot better if it was your hand wrapped around my cock right now,” Bucky drawls, rolling his body for his audience of no one, “but I guess I’ll just have to settle for fucking my fist to the sound of your voice. Can you hear me touching myself, Daddy?”

He breathes a soft groan as he strokes himself slick and languid, and Steve is silent for a long moment that Bucky’s brain is all too happy to color in with pornographic images of how Steve might be listening; where his hands might be wandering, how his cock would be filling at the mental picture Bucky’s painting. Bucky thinks this might just be the best idea he’s ever had, and he doesn’t hold back on letting Steve hear exactly how good he’s feeling about his decision...

...Until Steve clears his throat, and unceremoniously hits him with an ice-cold dousing of you-done-fucked-up.

“I’m in a meeting right now, I have two clients with me.”

There is zero inflection in his tone, and if Bucky thought he had experienced true panic before, he was mistaken. He can physically feel himself paling; his mouth dropping open soundlessly, humiliation warring with plain confusion as to why the hell Steve is still working at this ridiculous hour.

And then it clicks.

Horribly, harrowingly clicks.

Steve isn’t working at stupid o’clock at night.

In the perpetual haze of Bucky’s overworked brain and Steve’s ever-changing schedule, Bucky had forgotten that this trip was taking Steve to Hawaii.

For Steve, it isn’t slutty phone-sex hours. It’s very sensible, 4:45pm strictly-business hours.

“Ohmygod,” Bucky gasps, bolting upright and looking desperately around the room like it might hold the solution to his colossal screw up, “Steve, I completely forgot--”

“Mr Barnes, I can give you exactly two minutes of my time right now because I realize it’s been difficult to touch base recently,” Steve interrupts, his tone cooling abruptly with the air of professional detachment and veiled authority Bucky’s heard him use on work calls a thousand times. “Can you tell me exactly what the issue is with the redesign?”

...Bucky blinks, breath caught in his throat as he scrambles to string together some sense from Steve’s response.

Steve hasn’t mentioned any specific projects lately, is Bucky supposed to know something about a redesign? Was there something he--

Oh.

His brain and his dick catch on at the same time in a borderline painful rush of blood. He hears Steve pull back from the phone to address his clients, placating them with an apology and the assurance that this won’t take long, and Jesus Christ...Steve is actually doing this.

Steve is actually going to let this happen, going to let Bucky have one-sided phone sex with him while he sits there in some boardroom, with actual clients sitting right in front of him.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s breath leaves him in a rush as he drops back against the pillows and wraps a frantic hand around himself. “The issue is you’ve been gone three fucking days and I wanna sit on your face.”

“Mm, I see why that’s problematic,” Steve muses, cool and unaffected, “what exactly do you need from me?”

God, Bucky can just picture it - Steve sitting there looking like a fucking wet dream in one of his distractingly well-fitting suits, with his hair swept perfectly over and his beard trimmed just close enough to show off the sharp cut of his jaw; radiating that air of quiet authority that makes Bucky want to bounce in his lap until he dies...

Bucky knows for a fact that Steve’s face will be betraying precisely none of what’s happening on the other end of the line, and why the hell is that such a turn on?

“Well I was gonna describe in graphic detail all the things I want you to do to me when you get back,” Bucky huffs, breaths coming faster already, “but if I’m on the clock now, guess I’ll have to settle for sayin’ I need you to bring that dick home ASAP...fuckin’ miss it.”

“I see,” Steve sighs, “well I’m not back in New York for a few days yet, how do you plan to manage this in the interim?”

Bucky curses under his breath, tightening his grip on himself. “Just have to fuck myself, imagine it’s you.” He sounds every bit as unconvinced of the efficacy of this plan as they both know he is, and Steve hums thoughtfully in response.

“I’m going to need more detail, paint me a picture here.”

Bucky knows he’s blushing, feels the heat of it all the way down his chest, and fuck this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Dirty talking at Steve and getting nothing back but clipped responses, void of emotion and the usual undercurrent of affection he’s become accustomed to?

Work-Steve needs to come to the bedroom more often.

“I’ll touch myself, like I’m doing right now,” he twists his grip a little on the upstroke, hissing at the change in sensation, “get my fist all wet and tight around my cock...pretend it’s your mouth.”

How close are Steve’s clients sitting to him? Steve wouldn’t be letting this happen if there was any way they could hear...but what if one of them has some kind of medical condition that gives them enhanced hearing? What if one of them can read minds and is hearing this entire conversation play out in stereo quality in their head?

Why is there a part of Bucky that hopes one or both of those things are true?!

“...And?” Steve prompts, almost brusque, and Bucky gives himself a second to revel in the way his dick twitches for the hard edge in Steve’s voice.

“And I’ll, fuck- ” Bucky stutters, rocking his hips with the rhythm of his strokes, pushing himself up through his grip, “I’ll use my toys, fingerfuck myself.”

“Right, well why don’t you go ahead and start that for me now,” Steve says, off-hand; pulling back from the phone to place an honest-to-god coffee order with the oblivious intern who’s now seemingly in the room too, and Bucky’s never felt more of an affinity for the whole bored-and-ignored thing.

He slicks up the fingers of his free hand and shifts a little onto his side, hiking a knee up as he slips a finger inside himself.

“Can I take that as a yes, Mr Barnes?” Steve asks at the breathy moan Bucky lets out as he presses in first with one, and then with two fingers, and Bucky nods frantically even though Steve can’t see him.

“Yes, fuck...I'm doin' it...feels so fucking good, Steve.”

And it does. It’s a difficult angle, and he can't quite hit the spot he wants to inside himself, but the steady stroke-tug against his rim while his fist flies over his cock is working for him; winding him towards what would, in any other non time-constrained circumstance, be an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He can hear Steve shuffling papers, making quiet sounds of agreement along with whatever conversation is going on in the background between his clients whilst they wait, unknowing, and Bucky can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or an immense disappointment that Steve has to bite his tongue right now; that he can’t unleash any of the filth he’d definitely be spitting if he didn’t have an audience.

Steve fucking loves to run his mouth, and Bucky loves to hear it; lives for the endlessly colorful obscenities Steve comes out with in the throws of it.

Just listen to you, he’d be laughing a little; his voice dripping with that indulgent, self-satisfied grin he gets, so goddamn easy for it, ain’t that right baby? Three fuckin’ days and you’re gagging for it...should be ashamed of yourself…

But Steve is in a very public forum right now, in the middle of a meeting no less, trying to give the impression that he’s very decidedly not having phone sex. Right now, he’s Steve Rogers - CEO, consummate professional.

But he is also an asshole, and when he asks Bucky “do you feel you have a firm grasp on the situation, or would a second set of hands be helpful on this one?” Bucky swears he can hear that faint hint of a smirk all the way across the fucking country.

“Might just have to go find myself a second set of hands if you stay away too long,” Bucky retorts, emboldened by the distance, and a little morbidly curious to see what sassing gets him when Steve can’t say shit about it.

Turns out, what it gets him is a full-body shiver and a throb between his thighs as Steve’s tone dips to somewhere in the realm of politely-veiled threat. “I would not advise that, Mr Barnes.”

It occurs to Bucky, then, that this won’t just be done and dusted once they hang up. At the end of the week, Steve will come back to New York, and he will absolutely have some Things To Say about this little interruption.

He can picture it now, the way Steve will stand there all calm, staring him down with his mouth upticked at the corner while Bucky fumbles his way through an explanation.

He’ll probably do that thing where he doesn’t say much but his eyes say everything, and Bucky will have to try really hard to seem remorseful even though they’ll both know he’s not actually all that sorry. And Steve won’t want him to be, not really, but it’ll be something he can use to their mutual benefit, nonetheless.

Fuck, Steve might spank him.

Bucky smothers a moan into the pillow next to him, twisting his fingers inside himself and brushing his thumb across the head of his cock as he turns that thought over, Steve bending him over his knee, or better yet, over his desk...

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, a sudden rush of heat twisting tight in his gut, “fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Steve huffs a vaguely incredulous laugh, and there’s a faint creaking sound like he’s settling further back in his chair. “Oh really? Who authorized that?”

Bucky lets out a deeply undignified whine, his whole body strung tight enough to snap; caught between the sensations of his hand moving frantically over his dick and his fingers scissoring inside himself.

“Come on,” he whimpers, teetering on the knife edge of losing it, “tell me I can finish, please.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Oh, fuck him, fuck him...how is he still edging Bucky when he was the one who put the rush order on this?

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky doesn’t try to hide the desperation in his voice as he changes tact, “if you don’t authorize this orgasm I think I’m gonna go blind, just fucking let me come!”

Steve pauses a beat, humming a considering sound. “No, I’m not comfortable signing off on that. We’re tabling this until I get back to New York.”

Bucky freezes, both hands stilling; his face crumbling into a mask of abject disbelief. “You can’t be serious?” His stomach drops, even as something in the back of his mind says he really should have seen this coming...or, not coming, as is the case.

“I'm sure we can come to a far more satisfying resolution in person,” Steve says, maddeningly cavalier.

Bucky’s gearing up to plead his case, but Steve’s not done ruining his night yet.

“In fact, Mr Barnes,” he piles on, “I’d like to make you personally responsible for ensuring no further action is taken on the matter until I return. Can I trust you with this?”

Bucky gapes down at his poor, oblivious cock still standing at eager attention in his grasp, unaware of the disaster that’s just befallen them, and he takes his hands off himself with a pained groan.

“This is criminal,” he objects, flopping heavily onto his back and throwing his arms out to his sides, “if my dick falls off, it’s your fault!”

“Great! Glad to hear it,” Steve chirps, as if he's not the worst person alive, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Whatever,” Bucky scowls at the shadows stretching across the ceiling, willing his mind off the throbbing ache of injustice between his thighs, “I’m totally not answering any of your calls.”

Steve’s smile bleeds into his tone a little when he responds, the closest he’s come to fondness yet. “Okay, speak soon, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky tries, really tries, to inject some petulance into his tone as he signs off with a grumbled “love you, I guess,” but he can’t quite bring himself to sulk as much as he feels the situation warrants.

After all, in exactly four days, Steve will come back to New York.

He’ll come home, and they’ll laugh about this, and in exactly four days…

Steve will make him forget what he was even upset about in the first place.

(Part 2 of the series here!)

#steve/bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve x bucky #stucky fanfic #ao3 stucky #daddy steve rogers

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

They say romance is dead

Pairing: Angel x reader; Spike x reader; Faith Lehane x reader [Choose your own ending]

Request: But have you ever seen interactive fics? Where you can choose your ending? Like for example: Spike and Angel trying to woo the same girl. And the end is interactive. Like there's an ending for when you pick Spike and one where you pick Angel. (and maybe one where you don't pick any of them because maybe you're already with someone of your choice?!)

Requested by: @kind-wolf

Warning: Small sex reference. Swearing.

A/N: Reader speaks kinda gossip-y on the phone lol. I really hope this is okay - I loved this idea so much, I couldn’t help but make a third option with Faith !! I’d love to do more of these if you have any more requests/scenarios.

There’s a tense change in the middle, if it doesn’t work tell me I’ll rewrite it 💜

You were laying on your bed, the phone to your ear as you thought about the night before. You twirled the cord around your finger as you sighed. You felt as if you were living inside some kind of work of fiction. You had two vampires seemingly interested in you and you had no idea how to even sort through your thoughts let alone think about making a choice of one over the other.

One was named Spike, he was a punk inspired vampire with the body of a Greek God. The man was hot and he definitely knew about it. He was fierce but had a soft side he wasn’t ashamed to present to you. The other, Angel. Angel by name and occasionally by nature so long as you caught him on an ensouled day. He was tall, dark and incredibly biteable despite him being the vampire in the equation. He wasn’t a man of many words, but those few words had been surprisingly sweet when directed towards you. Both were incredibly attractive and both had an intriguing and ultimately tragic backstory that you would be lying if you said hadn’t intrigued you.

“Hey, I’m not judgin’, it’s your life y’know?” your good friend Faith confirmed from the other end of the phone, trying her best to comfort you the way she knew how. She wasn’t really used to in-depth phone calls like this one with friends, but she couldn’t help admit she enjoyed having someone that could vent to her and would listen if she needed to talk as well.

She asked you to explain everything that had happened, so she could help you weigh up the pros and cons. You knew what her advice would be, to get under them both and judge for yourself. But you decided to talk through it anyway, for your own peace of mind.

“It all started a few months ago…

I was spending time with Spike, he had been so kind to me. He found me alone and offered to get us some drinks. He said he had some kind of discount. He was so soft with me, I couldn’t believe it was him.

We had such a great time, he was asking about me as if he really cared. He looks at me like I’m the whole world sometimes. And he spoke so beautifully. So emotionally about his past, it was as if he trusted me in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. I’ve not stopped thinking about it since.

Then the next night I had bumped into Angel, he offered to walk me home. He seemed to really care that I got home safe. We got talking and I invited him inside, he seemed so pleased that I had. I couldn’t help smiling – my face was aching after he told me a story about a demon he had to defeat. He’s a good story-teller. It had me in stitches – but not as many stitches as the demon probably needed.

He told me he liked spending time with me. That when we were together he forgot about his troubles. He forgot about his past. That it was just us.

I had been spending so much time with each of them I hadn’t realised how close I was to them both. They have both been making sure I’m safe after dark and being so much more physically affectionate.

Ever since then, Spike has been really protective. We fell asleep cuddled up in his crypt watching old re-runs of soaps. He’s always so attentive and sweet and I don’t know what I’d do without him in my life.

And Angel? He gives the best hugs. I swear he kissed my forehead one time and I swear I could have melted. He’s always there for me, the other night we just stayed in all night enjoying each other’s company. I was leaning against him and he read aloud to me. It was so cosy.

Anyway, it all got a bit awkward last night. I was at that bar – you know the one. I came across the both of them and I didn’t realise they were arguing until I made my way towards them. They looked like they were about to fight there on the dancefloor but there is a strict no-violence policy in there so they managed to stop themselves. It was that, or they sensed me coming. The closer I got, I realise they’re arguing about me! I know, crazy right?

So, I split them up - they tried to swing at each other. It was awful to see them fight ‘cause I care for them both so much I just don’t know in what way. But they wouldn’t stop squabbling with each other until I shouted at them to stop. There was this horrible silence and then they looked me dead in the eye and asked me to choose!”

You finished your explanation, intaking a large breath – you hadn’t realised you had been speaking without breathing with such pace. Faith had been listening and shaking her head at your tendency to romanticise things like this but didn’t comment. She was trying her best to assume the role of supportive friend.

“Shit. What’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know… why is everything so difficult?” You sigh, thinking of them both earlier. You were incredibly fond of both of them, but you felt caught in the middle.

“They say romance is dead, y/n/n” Faith stated, opting not to give you any solid advice.

“Yeah, but nobody ever warned me it was fucking undead” You muttered and she snorted with laughter, unable to give you any further advice other than the inevitable ‘try before you buy’ line she had sworn by since you had gotten to know her.

She had told you to bring the lucky suitor to her house-warming party if you managed to decide by then. If not, she assured you she would have a selection of eligible party guests for you to choose from. Faith had recently moved into somewhere more permanent right around the corner from where you lived.

Spike:

It had been a few days of reflection and you found one man, well vampire, stuck in your mind. You missed his touch, his comfort and reassurance. Just as you were thinking of him you saw him. He was looking around before skulking down a darkened alleyway. You squinted, following him and trying not to make too much noise to spook him. He listened and stopped abruptly and your eyes widened as you copied him.

“Bloody hell, pet, you ever actually heard of stealth or what?” he said, still facing away from you but he knew exactly who you were. He could only hope to bump into you after everything. He had been fearful he had pushed you away by giving you an ultimatum.

As you walked over to him and your heart skipped a beat. You saw his face, a smug smile playing on his lips that it was him you had seen and chosen to follow. He had seen Angel brooding extra hard the past few days and knew you hadn’t spoken to him.

“Sorry I just saw you and I... well, I needed to see you”

“Always got the time for you, love. You know that...”

He moved his hand, tucking a stray strand of hair back as his gaze bore into yours. You moved further into his touch, the feeling better than anything you had ever experienced. His touch was magic. If his heart could beat, he was sure that you would be able to hear it. He couldn’t face another day without you - he had to say something.

“I love you, Y/n, I’ll never bloody stop. Not until my body turns to ash and dust and some poor bugger on minimum wage sorts my remains into the trash”

“And I love you too. I’ve never been so sure of anything. I would choose you every time”

He scooped you up without warning but your legs were quickly wrapping around his waist. He pressed you between his body and the wall of the alleyway, not leaving any space between you. It didn’t matter where you were, this memory would be long since remembered. The kiss was sensual, slow and filled with passion threatening to pour over.

Your breath caught and he allowed you time to breath as he pressed meaningful kisses along your jawline. His eyes had been closed, his feelings were running through you as if they were your own with every touch. His lips worshipped you, he had you pressed against the wall whilst he supported with with one hand and stroked your side with the other. His strong hold making you feel so safe. You were his. He couldn’t believe it, he finally had you all to himself.

“You wanna... go to a party with me?” you mumbled, your mind still spinning as you asked between your deep breathing. He didn’t miss a beat, just looked at you as if you had suggested something ridiculous like he walk into the sun.

“Fat bloody chance, love. I want you all to myself” He whispered in your ear, leaving you grinning as he hoisted you over his shoulder and stalked off to find you somewhere more private where he could treasure you properly.

Angel:

It had been a couple of days since the incident between Angel and Spike. It was after dark and you were walking around aimlessly, trying to clear your thoughts. You were walking slowly down the street, someone on your mind that you weren’t even conscious about until you heard his voice. Somehow, you had found yourself outside of his house.

“Y/n?” a voice asked. You closed your eyes, the rich tone of his voice drawing you in. You knew in this moment exactly where your heart belonged.

You slowly turned around, looking directly into his soul. A soul that you were sure was bound to yours in some abstract way. You loved him, how could you not see this until now? None of the squabbling with Spike mattered. All you wanted was him. You would drop everything if it meant you could be his.

“Hey Angel” you tried to be casual, but your voice faltered slightly. There was something so intimate about his gaze. You walked towards him and he rested a hand on your arm. A comforting gesture – he was so used to being in contact with you. He loved how warm you were, your body heat comforting to him. He liked how alive you were, how you never once judged him.

He looked you in the eyes, trying to sift through his feelings. His thoughts. He looked as if he wanted to say something and you nodded softly, resting your hand over his in encouragement.

“Why am I so nervous? I’ve done this a million times…” He saw your horrified face at his apparent “Okay, twice” he admitted quickly, putting his hands up in surrender. You smiled at him and he quickly mirrored your expression. e He

He loved your smile, he could spend hours just enjoying how it lit up your face. He was gazing softly, before looking down at the ground. He had been ashamed of the way he had joined Spike in giving you an ultimatum.

You moved and pulled him into you, his lips now on yours.

“I thought after the other night…”

“Don’t ruin it now with your big mouth” You smiled, teasing him lightly. He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting possessively on you.

“I love you, y/n. D’you know that?”

“You may have hinted it slightly” You laughed and he smiled more as you replied, “I love you too… I’ve never felt anything so much” you smiled as he scooped you up into a close embrace. He opened the door to his place and invited you in. He had been frowning, as if in deep thought as you both entered.

“You know what this means? I beat Spike!” He exclaimed, apparently not quite reading the moment. But you could tell that he was only joking.

“Don’t ruin it!” you warned, not able to stop giggling at his boyish boasting. You roll your eyes but he just presses his lips against yours again, hoping to make you forget about his earlier comment. His hand cupping your face

His hand pulled you flush to him, your kiss deepening his lips demanding and earnest at the same time. He made you dizzy as he sat and pulled you onto his lap. His kisses told you of his love as if you needed any further confirmation. His lips explored you slowly, cherishing everywhere they brushed against your skin.

“Do you want to come to a party with me?” You asked, grinning wide as you already knew his answer. His face lit up in a way you had never seen before as he pulled you to rest on top of him. He hugged you to him as you leaned into him, smiling as he thought about showing you off to Faith’s party guests.

Faith:

It had been a few days since the call. You walked out into the sun, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation on your face before you carried on with your day. It was in this moment that made you realise there was something that you wanted way more than fangs and a bad back from sleeping in mausoleums. You wanted something real. Not something that could easily be torn away from you in a movie-style showdown between two competing vampires with loosely defined morals.

There was one person you spoke to about everything. Confided in over anyone else. It was her. Faith. How did you not see this sooner? Neither Spike or Angel meant anything compared to her. You felt lighter after this revelation, as if you were walking on air. Sometimes fate worked in funny ways, like the sun’s rays bringing you epiphanies of romance-novel proportions.

You were running a little late, but you wanted to dress nice for her party. You knocked on the door, the anticipation already killing you. The door swung open and there she was.

“Faith?”

“Where’ve you been, y/n/n? You know the fun only starts when you’re around” She grinned, ruffling your hair before starting to turn away. You couldn’t see, but she had closed her eyes, savouring the moment. She had expected you to bring one of the vampires that had been trailing after you so eagerly lately. She was pleased that it appeared to just be you but it didn’t mean she was any closer to revealing the way she felt.

She struggled to articulate her feelings, but she had them for you. In the biggest way. She had been waiting for you to show, the only guest she was bothered if they turned up or not.

“Drink?” She offered, your drink already made. She really was waiting for you to arrive and it was your favourite too. You sipped on it happily.

“Thanks – what would I do without you sweetie?”

She almost winced at the affectionate term. She enjoyed you referring to her that way, you had since you had started to become close. She had teased you at first, pretending she didn’t love it. But she did.

“So, did ya manage to choose?” She asked, almost hesitantly. You nodded and she did wince this time, not able to catch your eye anymore. She knew this day was coming, but you had hoped it wouldn’t be too soon.

You nodded and her eyes widened. Her eyes dropping to the floor. This was going to hurt her, she could feel the jealousy curling around her stomach and up into her chest. She felt as if she was drowning from the inside out as she waited with bated breath for your answer, as if hearing which guy you chose would make the rejection any easier. She had so many feelings for you she just wanted to scream them out loud, pull you to her and show you that she was the best one to take care of you.

“I’m pretty sure I love you” you stated, leaving her head spinning and her heart beating dangerously fast against her ribcage. Her eyes whipped up, widening in shock that you took for horror, “I-I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way, I just had to say it. It’s you. It’s only ever going to be you that I choose” You continued softly.

“Come here” she murmured, pulling you against her in the middle of her new living room. The group of party-goers cheered as your lips met hers, your hands tangling in her hair as you tasted love for the first time, her lips were soft and pressing desperately against yours. Your lips parted for her, her tongue entering your mouth slow but wanting. She held you to her, her hands propelling you closer to her.

She had been waiting a long time for this moment, “I love you too” she whispered against your lips before grabbing your hand and gesturing that she wanted to show you her new bedroom.

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 4 years

Text

“My Babysittee’s a Vampire”

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: cursing, partial nudity, a little pain? but not necessarily violence. Possible spoilers.

Description: The reader volunteers to watch Spike at Giles’s house while the others do some sluthing, but nothing goes as planned. It turns out that vampires are very hard to babysit.

Spike swore that the chip in his head prevented him from hurting anyone, but you weren’t so sure. Giles decided to keep him chained up in the house for observation and that required someone to actually observe him. You volunteered.

You were still the weakest of the Scoobies, unfortunately (except for maybe Anya, but she got points for being an ex-demon). There wasn’t much you could do except get in the way of the monster fighting. But if you could be helpful by staying in and doing some homework, hey. You weren’t going to complain.

“What, Buffy can’t even be bothered to watch me herself, now that I’m all neutered?”

Spike was in a hell of a mood, seemingly forgetting that he had come to you and your friends for sanctuary. It probably didn’t help that Giles and Xander chained him up in the bathtub.

“She’s busy.” You were unsure of whether or not you were trying to comfort him or just get him off your back. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and stare at the bloody wall all night?”

“Mhmm.”

You were up against the opposite wall, trying—and failing—to get through the sociology chapter your professor had assigned that day. Everyone else in the gang seemed to ignore their homework entirely, except maybe Willow, but you needed a good grade. Your future plans extended outside Sunnydale. But that was only half the trick. You also had to convince Buffy to come with you.

Spike lapsed into silence as you took your notes, the concept finally clicking into place in your head after the third time around. You highlighted and underlined, drawing triangles to help you understand the ideas of hierarchy and filling up your margins with little asides that helped you contextualize. You didn’t even wonder if you should be worried about the vampire’s sudden quiet until his voice broke through your focus.

“Read to me.”

You dropped your pen, startled. He was staring at you intently, like how you imagined a lion might study its prey. Like everything else had faded from view and he was trying to decide whether or not to take his chances on the hunt.

“I-It’s just soc-sociology,” you stuttered, holding up the textbook for him to see. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“I like people.” Spike bared his teeth in a grin that you guessed was supposed to be charming or encouraging, but toed past the line to frightening. When you hesitated, he sweetened his voice, practically cooing, “Come on. What harm could it do?”

So you did. He never asked you to stop and explain anything or gave any indication that he didn’t understand, but you interjected your own learnings in anyway. You almost forgot that it was him you were talking to. Willow used to really value school, and she was still the smartest person you knew, but witchcraft was taking over her areas of interest and none of the others cared about this kind of stuff unless you were helping them with their own homework. It was nice to have a rapt audience, even if he was literally being held captive.

“Basically, he’s saying that social environment shapes how we act and react to situations. Like in the Stanford Prison Experiment.” Your eyes darted from the text to Spike, waiting for a nod or something, but he looked as much like a statue as ever. “Good people can be made to do bad things because of the pressure they feel, real or imagined, to follow the rules that have been set in their environment.”

You waited for him to tell you that you had been right before and he was bored, but instead he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. The chains around his midsection clanked against each other and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even though your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest.

“What about bad people?”

Being around Buffy and the others, around so much supernatural for so many years, had made you into a person who could handle most things with a cool head. It was a required skill. You could freak out about the little things—tests, dating, work—though they seemed to matter less now than ever. But you couldn’t let the supernatural world scare you shitless unless you wanted to shut down completely. Your hands trembled where they grasped your book, but you kept your voice even. You forced your eyes upward to meet Spike’s.

“You tell me.”

——

You couldn’t run away from him, even though you were deeply and truly uncomfortable, so you excused yourself and went to the kitchen for a snack. You knew you shouldn’t leave him alone for too long, chip or not, so you sat down at the table and tried to catch your breath. You were counting down from one hundred when he started shouting about blood.

“It’s unfair,” he said when your frame filled the doorway, arms crossed, “that you get your snack and I don’t get mine.”

At this, his eyes raked down your body. You doubted that the gang would mind much if they came back to find him with a broken nose, but you exercised some hard-won self-control and dug your nails into your palms. Spike was smart and if he was working you up, it was probably for a reason. You treaded back to the kitchen and returned with a mug filled with some B negative that Giles had “borrowed” from the hospital’s blood bank.

“This is the last of the human stuff,” you told him with some satisfaction. “Next you’re drinking pig’s blood.”

You held the mug well away from you, willing your eyes to ignore the splatters on the rim from when you had poured it in. Spike cocked his head.

“Are you going to unchain me, or—?”

“I’ll get a straw.”

When you came back, he was slumped against the inside wall of the porcelain tub. You sat on the edge, held the mug up for him, and turned your head away, enough that you couldn’t see him take his first sip but not enough that he would notice. The sound by itself was almost worse.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not running a hotel. You’re a hostage.”

“I’m a guest seeking asylum.”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Fine.” You couldn’t bicker with him any more. You needed this to be over.

You warmed it in the microwave, swearing the whole time, and brought it back with both hands wrapped around the mug to keep yourself from throwing the blood in Spike’s face. He smiled as if he knew what you were thinking and relaxed against the tub, tilting up only his chin so that you had to sink to your knees against the tile floor to get an angle that would work.

“I could get used to this,” he mused when he had finished. A few droplets splattered on your hands. You tried not to look at them and began soaping up in the sink.

“Don’t.”

“You know, love, Passions is on in twenty, if your watch is correct.”

You unclasped it from your wrist and wiped it off with a damp tissue. “Forget it.”

“I guess we could always read more from the textbook.” You caught his crafty smirk in the mirror. “You seemed to like that well enough.”

You sighed. “Will it get you off my back?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Fine.”

You crossed to the tub and tried to puzzle out how to lift him without breaking anything. Spike’s hands were bound in front of him by a separate set of chains than his body to make it more difficult for him to escape and give him some limited mobility. His back was flush up against the tub wall, pressed to the porcelain in a way that would make it difficult to pull him up from behind. There was a small amount of space in between his legs, as his feet had been spread to either side of the tap.

“Well?”

“Shut up.”

You stepped into the tub gingerly, easing over the high rim to stand in between Spike’s legs in the space provided. It wasn’t much, and you caught the fabric of his jeans under your foot at first, but you adjusted.

Next you placed your arms on either side of his chest right under his arms.

“Lift with me,” you said, and together you managed to get him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Okay, next—”

He straightened out, trying to stand before you were ready for him, overcompensating so he wouldn’t hit the wall nearest to him and then hitting you with the full force of his weight as he toppled forward.

“Fuck, Spike!”

He was so goddamn heavy. His chest pressed against your face, forcing your back to the wall where the tap caught you in the back of the lower thigh and tore the skin. You couldn’t shove him back unless you wanted him to fall out the back of the tub and onto the floor, possibly cracking his skull in the process. It was tempting, but your reputation as a babysitter would be shredded.

“This isn’t exactly comfortable for me either, you know!”

“Ouch. Ouch. Fuck. Okay, I’m going to push you back slowly. Try to keep your balance.”

But when you moved your leg to keep it from being pressed against the spout, you hit the knob for the cold water, which came pouring down over your heads.

Spike cursed so loudly the neighbors could probably hear. “Turn it off!”

“Stand up! I can’t turn it off with you all over me like this!”

He righted himself too quickly and fell backward back into the floor of the tub, sending his legs sprawling out beneath you. Your feet were knocked out from under you and you fell on top of him heavily, bruising your elbow and knocking your chin against his sternum as the water poured on.

“Fuck,” he whispered, unable to do anything else. It took you both a moment to adjust to the pain and you closed your eyes to your own idiocy.

“Did you hit your head?” you asked finally, reaching out a hand to the platinum blond mop that was now plastered against his skull.

“Turn. The bloody. Water. Off.”

“Okay, okay,” you huffed. He groaned as you sat up, spreading your legs to either side of his hips to steady yourself and keep from slipping in the tub that was slowly filling up. “But this was all you. You had to watch Passions.”

“You’re the one,” he grunted, “who volunteered to play babysitter.”

The shower head drenched you as you twisted and leaned back to flick the knob off.

“I’m normally good with kids, so I figured I could handle one whiny brat for a night.”

You were breathing heavily, your body throbbing from all the places you had scraped and bruised in the struggle. Spike didn’t look much better, although you supposed he had his super vampire healing or whatever. You weren’t worried about it. Your clothes, on the other hand...

“Now what?”

Carefully, you stood and stepped out of the tub. You avoided your textbook on the ground as you grabbed a towel from the cabinets underneath the sink and wrapped it around yourself.

“You can’t leave me here.”

There was at least an inch of water kept in the tub by the plugged drain. It would probably serve Spike right to sit there all night. You both knew that the others would find it funny rather than an exercise in abuse of authority.

“Take the chains off,” he said, switching his tone from murderous to honeyed. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“You can’t,” you retorted, before realizing you had proven his point. “I mean, if what you say is true.”

“Do you think I would be here right now if it wasn’t?”

You couldn’t. This was the setup for a disaster. Things like this always happened to you guys.

“Look, I could’ve hurt any of you before you chained me up. I didn’t.”

He did look kind of pitiful, soaking and lying on his back in the bathtub.

“Maybe you were playing the long game. And now you’ve decided it’s not for you.”

Your words made sense, but you were wavering. Maybe you had a death wish. You left the room for a moment and returned with the key.

“Your hands stay locked up.”

“Fine.”

You were all too aware how close to him you were now, to his mouth. You barely breathed when you stepped into his personal bubble and let the chains slide to the floor. His lips twisted as he looked down on you and before you could step back, his face contorted and he stretched his mouth open.

“Ow! Fuck! Bloody hell!” he cried, putting a hand to his head as you fell back onto the floor on your already sore ass, scrambling backward. “It was a joke!”

“Buffy should have staked you,” you spat, but you led him into the living room anyway.

The two of you were still dripping all over the carpet, but you ducked into Giles’s closet after re-hiding the key and brought out two pairs of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

As it was, you had to take the scissors to Spike’s shirt and throw it out. It was impossible to get it off with the chains on, though you gave it a shot anyway and ended up tangling Spike in it. It was kind of gratifyingly funny to see his head tucked in under the fabric as he struggled.

“You bloody witch!”

“Stop squirming!”

The pants were worse. He had to sit down in the armchair as you shimmied his soaked jeans off, leaving him only in boxers.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up or I’ll leave you like this.”

Getting the pajamas on was even harder. He had to stand up, support himself by leaning his hands on your shoulder, and kind of hop into the legs of it as you held them up. They were big on him, too, but you tied the drawstrings as tightly as you could, which meant having your hands near a very sensitive area for a few seconds. Ultimately, the pants still hung low on his hips, and you wrinkled your nose in frustration. When you pulled back, Spike had his lips puckered, stringently trying to avoid laughter.

“So you’re just going to leave me in damp knickers?”

“We’re all having to make sacrifices today. Turn around.”

You didn’t want to leave him again, not even for a second, afraid of the trouble he’d get up to on his own. You yanked off your own jeans and t-shirt, watching his back in case he disobeyed you, unable to ignore how muscled and lean he was.

Goddamnit, he really could kill you if he had half a mind to. You’d been training ever since you’d found out what Buffy was, but with school and a job, there was only so much you could fit in.

You wavered between turning around to unclasp your bra and staying in place to monitor him, but ultimately you decided it was safer to just hurry up and do it. You weren’t sure how much skin Spike saw when he went ahead and broke the rules, but it was more than you had hoped. You pulled the t-shirt over your head hurriedly, but Giles wasn’t necessarily a very big man, and it was decidedly short on you.

“Spike,” you hissed. “Go watch TV.”

“Well, we’ve probably missed Passions by now. But our romantic evening doesn’t have to be ruined.” His eyebrow quirked suggestively and you balled up your wet jeans, aiming right at his face.

“Go!”

You almost took yourself out on the corner of the coffee table as you pulled on Giles’s only pair of pajama shorts. You had to roll the top down three times for them to sit at your hips without totally falling off. Spike watched you do it. You gritted your teeth and said nothing.

When the others came back, you and Spike were in separate chairs, your hair still drying.

Xander opened his mouth and then closed it, glancing back and forth between the two of you. Giles seemed disturbed, his right eye beginning to spasm as he spotted the piles of clothes on the floor. Willow stifled a laugh, almost choking on it. And Buffy’s fists curled like she was preparing to hit one—or both—of you.

Spike didn’t look away from the TV, although the corner of his mouth twitched. You dug your fingers into the chair’s arm rests.

“I deserve a raise.”

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #spike x reader #fanfiction

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sinkix · 4 years

Text

《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here

✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧

Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library.

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off.

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating???

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

#hq #haikyuu #nekoma #yaku morisuke #lev haiba #yamamoto taketora #kuroo testuro #kenma kozume #inuoka sou

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logicalbookthief · 5 years

Text

will you take this babe to be your only

"It’s all yours, Eds," he says, batting his eyes at Eddie’s glare. "On one condition."

He drops to his knee, just like they do in the movies. His lips make a wet, smacking sound as he kisses the back of Eddie’s hand, grin unrepentant.

"Make me the happiest man in the seventh grade?"

OR: Five times Richie proposed to Eddie as a joke and the one time he was serious. Based on THIS amazing, adorable reddie art by @faiyx. Title from “Let’s Get Married” by Bleachers.

Link to ao3

Richie saunters over to friends – specifically over to Eddie, who’s giving Stan and Bill a wide berth as they fiddle with Bill’s bike. But Eddie catches the glint of his ringpop in the sun and crowds him instantly.

"Hey! Where’s mine?"

"Sorry, Eds. Only one left." He is sorry for that; Richie meant to buy one for Eddie, too. He is decidedly less sorry for the reaction he knows his counter-offer will induce. "Tell you what, I’ll share."

"Gross!" Eddie reddens with his signature disgust. "I don’t want your spit. Who knows what germs you’re carrying! Flu, strep, halitosis–"

"You can’t spread halitosis," Stan interrupts. Eddie shoots him a look that is both confused and scathing.

It’s kind of cute, actually. The furrowed brow, the tightening around his lips. Everything Eddie does is at least kind of cute. Even when he’s trying to connive Richie out of his candy.

"C’mon, Rich. Red’s my favorite flavor."

"Red isn’t a flavor."

"You know what I mean, dipshit."

"Eds, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Richie tuts. "Or does she save all the lip-action for me?"

"Shut up! You’re so fucking gross.” Eddie scowls, making a lunge for Richie’s arm. He’s got a couple inches on Eddie, and it’s way too easy to hold the ring out of reach, so Eddie has to jump for it.

Richie could tease Eddie like this all day, but an idea strikes, and oh, he can’t resist.

"Okay, you’ve convinced me. It’s all yours, Eds," he says, batting his eyes at Eddie’s glare. "On one condition."

He drops to his knee, just liken they do in the movies. His lips make a wet, smacking sound as he kisses the back of Eddie’s hand, grin unrepentant.

"Make me the happiest man in seventh grade?"

Eddie sputters, his cheeks a hot, fluorescent pink. Too deer-in-the-headlights to even freak over the germs from Richie’s saliva.

"Our Eddie could do better," Stan shouts. Richie yelps in offense.

"Take that back, Stanflakes!"

While he’s distracted, Eddie swipes the ringpop and sticks it in mouth. All smug, completely unrepentant. Richie would be annoyed, if his stomach wasn’t twisted in fluttery knots all of a sudden.

Weird. Maybe he should lay off the candy, after all.

"Expert quarry-diver, Richard Tozier, will now attempt his triple back-splash bellyflop." Richie clears his throat of the British voice, the tips of his toes dangling over the edge of the cliff. He bends to a diving pose, sticking his butt towards his audience.

"Would you be careful?" Eddie nags. "Do you know the statistics of water-related injury among kids our age?"

"Do you know the statistics of virgins who quote statistics all the time?" Richie mimics Eddie’s high-pitched tone, chuckling at how huffy he gets. "Lighten up, Eds."

Mike peers over his shoulder. "It is a pretty big fall."

Richie snorts. "Not as big as my–"

His foot slips, careening back into nothing. The last thing he sees before he plummets is Eddie, seized by terror.

As far as last sights go, it isn’t so bad.

He slams against the water, hard. The impact punches the air out of his lungs. He sinks for a bit, dazed by pain, until the tightness in his chest becomes almost unbearable.

Disoriented, Richie flails his arms, aiming for the surface but going nowhere. His lungs have started to ache with urgency when he’s grabbed under the arms. They breach the surface, gulping in a glorious burst of oxygen, and finally, he’s set on land. He gasps, water sluicing past his lips, tasting all the nasty shit Eddie claims is in there.

Eddie.

"Eddie," he croaks, his vision blurry. He must’ve lost his glasses.

"You idiot," Eddie screeches. Wetness clings to his lashes. Richie suspects it isn’t from the quarry yet doesn’t dare voice this aloud. “I told you, I told you to be careful, and what did you do!? You could’ve broken your neck!"

"Or my huge dick,” Richie coughs, as his glasses are shoved back onto his face. He looks up to see Stan rolling his eyes.

"Besides his brain, is anything broken?”

"Dr. K doesn’t think so," says Ben, smiling in relief. "He jumped in after you, then Bill and I, and we swam you to shore."

"My hero," Richie sing-songs. He grins at his savior. "Marry me, Eds?"

"Pull that shit again and I'll let you drown," Eddie promises, though it's sort of undermined by how he's still hovering over Richie. Clingy Eddie is a worried Eddie, and selfishly, Richie likes it.

"You’ll have a helluva bruise," Bev remarks, poking at his skin.

"I’ve only seen people fall that way in cartoons," Mike exclaims.

Stan guffaws. "You dropped like Wile E. Coyote."

"Idiot," Eddie repeats. He hasn’t let go of Richie’s wrist, the point of contact burning so hot it may as well be imprinted on his skin. “Next time, you better listen to me.”

Richie beams. "Of course. What would I do without you, Eds?"

"Die, apparently," says Bill, and Richie laughs so hard water spurts out of his nose.

It’s the dead of night when Richie climbs through Eddie’s window, but the motions are so familiar, he could probably do it blind. He’s walked the distance from his house to the Kaspbrak’s so many times he could tell you the exact amount of steps it takes from his room to Eddie’s front door.

The excursions used to be a necessity, considering how frequently his mom would keep him home from school, and how she refused to let any of them visit Eddie when they brought his homework. Ever since Eddie put his foot down over the gazebos, he hadn’t missed nearly as much, until about a week ago.

A few days of absence is tolerable, though by no means enjoyable for Richie. A week is his absolute limit.

He slides the window open and slips inside. The room’s empty, except for a nest of blankets on the bed. Richie frowns, scanning for signs of life. Then the nest shifts, and he hears a sniffle.

"Rich?" Eddie pokes his head out of the cocoon. "What’re you doing here?"

Maybe it’s that he figured this was a case of Mrs. K’s smothering, but he isn’t prepared for the sight of Eddie: cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, his voice a sore-sounding whisper. "You really are sick, huh," says Richie, dumbly.

Eddie scoffs, a cough wracking his whole body. "No, I quarantined myself for fun! I love the smell of stale air and Vicks vapor rub."

"Geez, if you’re gonna be a dick, I’ll take my care-package and go," Richie turns on his heel, as if to leave.

Fingers curl around his arm, stronger than he expected. Richie cuts to Eddie’s eyes, wide and vulnerable. "Please don’t go."

"Eds, hey," Richie says gently. He cards his fingers through his sweaty hair, feeling like an ass. "I was kidding."

Shakily, Eddie nods. "No, it’s okay... I forgot how it was, you know? Being hold up in my room, all by myself, because I’m sick." He swallows, drawing out a wince. "It’s..."

Lonely. Eddie doesn’t have to say it for Richie to read him loud and clear. And who wouldn’t be, trapped in a dark house with only Mrs. K and her soaps for company?

If he wasn’t just some punk teen with two bucks to his name, he’d take Eddie away from this – this prison of a room, with his mom as warden; this shithole town, with all its shake and secrets – in a heartbeat.

"Marry me," he blurts. Eddie blinks at him.

So you’ll never be alone, is what he means. What he says is, "That way if you die, I’ll get your comics."

"Fuck you," Eddie rasps. It sounds more like fug you. Richie snickers.

"You’re cute when you’re congested. I can’t take anything you say seriously."

"Why don’t you put your mouth to good use for once," Eddie grumbles, and slaps a comic into Richie’s palm. "My eyes are too watery to read."

Richie grins and does as he’s told. Probably the only instance Eddie doesn’t complain about his voices are when he reads aloud; even when they were little kids, Eddie would sit entranced, saying he was the best storyteller.. He attempts to keep the volume low, even though there’s a 90% percent chance Mrs. Kaspbrak is already passed out with a bottle of Chardonnay.

After a while, Eddie starts to doze against his shoulder, and even Richie can’t hold his eyes open much longer. He may as well spend the night; as long as he skedaddles before breakfast, Mrs. K will be none-the-wiser.

"Move over," Richie orders, slipping under the covers. They’re all elbows and knees, yet still skinny enough to fit together in the bed. It’s narrow, though. The fit is tight. His heart’s fluttering so loudly he hopes Eddie’s ears are congested, too.

"I’ll get you sick," Eddie frets. A tidal wave of affection rushes over Richie, because the concern is I’m infectious stay away, not ew, get away from me, you fag.

He dreads the day they’ll be too old, or it’ll be too gay, for Richie to sneak into his room and share his bed. So he savors it while he has it, this closeness. Shuffles their positions until his chin is tucked over Eddie’s shoulder, his chest pressed against Richie’s front.

"There," he says, grateful they’re no longer facing each other, so Eddie can’t see the flush on his cheeks. "Now you can’t breathe on me."

Eddie shivers against the cool gust of air over his neck, or maybe he’s feverish, curling back against Richie in search of warmth. Emboldened, Richie throws an arm over his middle, slotting them together. For Richie, it’s like a piece of himself falling into place.

Tomorrow he’ll complain about Eddie’s hideous morning breath and be kicked for his trouble. Tonight he drifts off to the hiss of Eddie’s breaths and is thankful for every wheeze.

"Jesus, Rich. Those things will rot your lungs before you’re forty."

Eddie grunts when he spies Richie, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The glow is unmistakable in the low-lighting of Derry’s school halls.

Richie takes a long, exaggerated drag. "Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me. A gazillion times."

"You survived an evil sewer clown just to kill yourself with cigarettes?" Eddie makes his bitchiest face.

"When you put it that way," Richie mutters, stubbing it out. Doesn’t want to give Eddie a reason to leave, anyway.

He slinks over to Richie, nose wrinkling at the smell. "Why aren’t you with Becky?"

"Who?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Your date, dumbass."

Of course Richie remembers. Becky “B-Cup” Wilkins. She sits by him in physics, where they copy each other’s work (usually with mutually devastating results). This was the first year of high school she had her braces off, and with the metal gone, she was keen to practice her kissing. Richie was more than happy to oblige.

He was a little floored when she asked him to the dance, though. Him and the Losers generally had a pact to go together, but that may have more to do with the lack of invitations from anyone else. They all encouraged Richie to accept the invite “before she realizes what she’s getting into,” as Stan so eloquently put it.

Becky was pretty, overbite or no, and she ran with a crowd of girls that were way out of his league. She had a mean streak to her, too, and apparently he liked that in a girl.

(And apparently in boys, too.)

Her friends were nice to him the whole night, even laughed at his jokes. Whether they thought he was charming in an off-beat kind of way, or simply being considerate of Becky, he wasn’t sure, nor did he particularly care.

Until he returned from the punch bowl to the girls in a cluster, giggling.

"Come on, if you had to pick a loser, who’d it be?" asks Liz Maloney.

"The short one, I guess," another girl answers. Curious, Richie follows her gaze, heart sinking at the sight of Eddie, standing off to the side with Ben and Stan, while Bev and Bill dance. His hair’s combed for once, shiny with gel, and the sweater that looks soft to the touch. Not as soft as his skin, yet it isn’t a fair comparison, since Richie’s imagined touching that for far longer.

"God, Kris, you know he’s gay, right?" Liz jeers. His stomach lurches at the disdain in her voice. "He’s never so much as looked at a girl."

"So what, he’s gay and can’t be cute?" Kris puts a hand on her hip. "Better gay than fat."

"At least Hanscom isn’t allergic to pussy."

They crack up at that, and in the mix, he hears Becky’s little snigger, the one he found so charming. Not anymore.

"You know who I’d pick?" Richie bursts in obnoxiously, startling Kris so bad she yelps. "All of them, over you."

Becky shot him a look as he left, like he was the weirdo upset over nothing, and Richie decided he was a better off a loser.

"Oh! Her." He snaps his fingers. "Yeah, we weren’t compatible, you could say. Turns out, her B-Cup was mostly tissue."

"She dumped you," Eddie surmises.

"Yeah," says Richie, because it’s easier than the truth.

His expression dims, sympathy bleeding from every pore. Eddie bumps his shoulder. "I’m sorry, dude."

Richie shrugs. "Bev is saving me a dance as we speak. I’m sure she’s got one saved for you, too."

"No thanks, I’m good." Eddie shudders. "All the sweat, the touching, the–"

"–the bacteria?" Richie finishes knowingly. "Fuck. Can’t you let loose for one night, Eds?"

"Don’t call me that," he snaps. "And what’re you doing?"

"Crossing it off your bucket list," Richie says cheerily, yanking Eddie to his feet. "C’mon, man. What if you wake up with a staff infection tomorrow? Do you wanna die without dancing at your senior homecoming?"

"Shit for brains, that isn’t how staff infect–" At his unfaltering grin, Eddie relents. "You know what, fine! Whatever it takes to shut you up."

"That’s the spirit!"

It’s obvious Eddie doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. Richie knows exactly where he wants to put his, yet he’s too much of a coward.

"You can barely hear the music," Eddie complains. "We look like idiots."

"Nobody’s watching," Richie presses, holding Eddie a bit tighter, the fear he’ll pull away worse than the fear they’ll be caught. "I could hum, if you prefer."

Eddie snorts, ducking his head, chin brushing Richie’s chest. "I don’t really know what I’m doing," he admits, self-consciously.

"Relax, you’re fine." Richie twists him into an awkward twirl, then does the same to himself, cackling at Eddie’s reluctant smile. "I’ll show you some moves when we go camping at Mike’s next weekend."

Immediately, the smile disappears. "My mom won’t let me."

"Eds," Richie groans. "You’re killing me."

"I tried!" Eddie cries miserably. "I tried to ask if I could visit my aunt in Chamberlain, and sneak out with you guys instead, even though it was a long-shot. But she wouldn’t go for that, either!"

"Well, there is no way you’re missing Ben’s triple-layer s’mores or your dancing lessons. Let’s brainstorm." Richie spends a second wracking his brain. "Option one, we fake your death."

"Be serious, Rich."

"Okay, okay. Option two." He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie, the words briefly catching in his throat. "We get married, run away together. As your husband, I’d totally overrule your mom."

"Where’s my ring?" Eddie asks, smirking.

Richie surprises him with a dip, just to hear his squawk. "You got to admit, Eddie Tozier has quite the ring to it," he jokes, his mouth so close to Eddie’s he feels light-headed.

"Sounds like a bad cologne brand." Eddie stares up at him, dark eyes imploring. Like he truly believes in Richie, trusts him to fix anything. "What’s option number three?"

"I stop living in sin and make it official with your mom," Richie blurts, wriggling his eyebrows. "As your stepdad, I could persuade Sonia to let our darling boy have fun with his friends."

He should’ve predicted the smack, but it jolts him enough that he drops Eddie on his ass, collapsing into a fit of giggles next to him on the floor.

"You’re sick," Eddie hisses, with no real bite. "No wonder your date left you."

Richie yanks him into a noogie. "Good thing I’ll always have you, Eddie Spaghetti."

He has Eddie, wholly, unconditionally. Until he doesn’t.

Until the memories fade, day by day, month by month, and he forgets every lingering touch, every averted glance, every painstaking swipe of his father’s pocketknife as he carved their initials into the kissing bridge. He loses Eddie, only to find him twenty-seven years later, and then only to lose him again.

Almost. Richie sighs, savoring the steady beep of the monitor beside him. He almost loses Eddie.

They narrowly escaped being crushed to death under the Neibolt, mostly because Richie, in his desperate certainty that Eddie was alive, refused to leave him behind. How could he leave him to die in that cold, dark chasm – Eddie would’ve hated it, he was afraid of the dark, kept a night-light well into his teens, and Richie couldn’t tell the others, not only ‘cause he was sobbing too harsh to make any sense, but ‘cause he promised Eds he’d never tell a soul – when he could barely pry himself from Eddie at the hospital, while the doctors insisted they take him into surgery, now.

So Richie waits, his hands quaking at the memory of Eddie’s skin, gone cold with shock. He waits, helpless, while the doctors try to shove Eddie’s innards back in and stitch up the hole in his chest.

By some miracle, they manage to do it with, and with him only flatlining once, the nurse informs him proudly. Like Richie should be ecstatic that Eddie had to be physically resuscitated, even after they brought him to safety, after killing that fucking clown.

"I’m sorry. Until he’s moved to a room, only family are allowed in the ICU," she explains to the six losers standing vigil. Richie is more than a bit bewildered when she motions him forward regardless. "Sir, you can come with me."

Still a little dazed, he follows without question, lest this privilege be revoked.

"Your husband is heavily sedated, so if he wakes he’ll likely be disoriented. I’ll be good to have a familiar face." She nods to the chair at Eddie’s bedside. "Make sure to keep him calm and comfortable."

With a final, warm smile, she leaves them alone. Richie staggers into the seat, fumbling for Eddie’s hand, where it lies limp against the starch white sheets. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the fat drops of tears are sliding down the bridge of his nose and into the bed. His chest swells, full of all the regrets he’s carried, all the shame he’s hidden. All the love that’s interwoven into the two.

And Eddie has no idea.

No idea that Richie would fight a million fucking clowns if doing so would keep Eddie safe, let him smile, bright and buoyant, like he had at Richie when he thought he’d killed It for real.

Hell, the nurse from middle-of-fucking-nowhere Derry could tell he was head-over-heels in love, yet he couldn’t find the balls to confess to the one guy in the world who deserved to know.

Richie isn’t sure how long he’s slumped over, their fingers intertwined, before Eddie stirs.

"You’re okay, Eds. It’s Richie, I’m here," he says softly, clutching his hand tighter. "Not leaving you, buddy. Not ever again."

His brow pinches, bewildered. "When did you...?"

"Never mind," snorts Richie. His smile hardly wavers, and it’s hopelessly adoring. Eddie has that effect on him, it seems. "Just running my mouth."

"Per usual," Eddie huffs, weakly. "Did we... It, did we...?"

The monitor speeds up, signaling his distress. Richie acts on instinct, standing up, using his body to shield him from the room, the world. It’s only them, just Richie with his palm over Eddie’s cheek, thumb caressing his scar, his dimples.

"It’s dead," he assures. "Everyone made it out, we’re safe. You’re safe now."

Eddie turns into the touch, nose brushing against his fingertips. Richie sucks in a breath, his heart a jackhammer in his throat. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone like he wants to kiss Eddie right now.

Talking. Talking will distract him from that dangerous line of thought. "We carried you out. You’re in the hospital, attached to no less than a thousand wires, that I'm afraid to poke in case you explode."

A groggy smile tugs at the corners of Eddie's mouth.

"Oh, and the staff thinks I’m your incredibly devoted husband," Richie adds wryly. "What do ya say, Eds? Don’t want to get accused of hospital fraud."

Eddie hums dreamily. "I have to divorce my wife first."

Richie nearly swallows his tongue.

He could blame it on the drugs. Hell, it's probably a joke. Like his half-hearted attempt to startle a laugh out of Richie, his chin smeared with blood, the "I fucked your mom" comment followed by a streak of red.

Except it isn't a joke. This is something else entirely.

"Wha– What are you saying?"

His eyes open to slits, glaring at Richie through his lashes. "I’m trying to be brave."

Richie chokes out a laugh. "Eds, you’re braver than anybody I’ve ever met."

"Hmm." Eddie exhales, eyes slipping closed. Richie stifles the pinprick of panic begging for Eddie to keep your eyes open, stay awake, please, look at me. "Brave. Not happy."

And if that doesn’t fucking break his heart.

"We can fix that," Richie whispers, the words unbidden but earnest. He talks a lot of shit, but this, this is as vulnerable as he's ever allowed himself to be. "You and me, Eds. I want–I want you to be happy."

Happy with me.

There’s no answer. Snores drift from Eddie’s slackened lips. Richie laughs, wobbly and tear-laced, as he nuzzles his hair.

"You rest, Eddie Spaghetti. I’ll be here when you wake up." He strokes his knuckles over his forehead, and then kisses him there, just below his hairline. Fuck it, he’s tired of fearing the worst, hiding the truth.

If Eddie wasn’t afraid, neither was Richie.

"Did I ever tell you guys I proposed to my boyfriend when we were twelve-years-old? With a ringpop?"

He garners a couple of hollers and a few scattered ’awws’.

"Let me finish!" Richie shushes. "I proposed to Eddie when we were kids, and, while our friend Stan was dunking on me, he stole the ring off my hand and stuck it in his mouth. He was all: haha, got ya bitch! The lil’ shit."

The crowd titters. Besotted, Richie lays a hand over his heart and sighs.

"Proposed with a ringpop. That is the height of romance – but only if you’re a twelve-year-old. If I pulled that stunt a a grown man, you wouldn’t be waking up to a Buzzfeed article titled: 42-year-old Comedian Ties Knot with Childhood Sweetheart. You’d be reading a news report claiming: 42-year-old Comedian Justifiably Murdered By His Boyfriend."

Cheers ring out, despite him yelling, "Don't cheer for my death!"

"You know what’s really pathetic? Besides the fact my romance game peaked before puberty." He pauses, allowing the chuckles to peter out before he continues, "The worst part is, it was a joke . Yup. I didn’t know I was gay, let alone in love with my best friend! I did it solely to get a rise out of him, and boy, did he get cute when he was mad."

In a thoughtful tone, Richie reflects, "In retrospect, the gay thing should’ve been clear sooner."

At the crowd's glee, a grin splits his cheeks.

"Speaking of my gay awakening, he’s in the audience tonight." He locks eyes with Eddie in the front row, sandwiched between Ben and Mike. "Eddie, my love. Light of my life. Fire in my loins. Won’t you join me on stage, so the adoring fans can get a look at you?"

The crowd claps in thunderous agreement. Eddie shakes his head, vehemently at first, losing gusto as the Losers gently (forcibly) encourage him toward the stage. He flashes a quick, uncomfortable grin at the audience before leaning into Richie, whispering "The hell are you doing, asshole?" which, for all his tact, the mic catches anyway.

Richie tucks a now blushing Eddie against his side, showing off his gorgeous boyfriend. "Am I the luckiest guy in the world or what?" he shouts to raucous wolf-whistles. "Okay, that was maybe too enthusiastic. He's spoken for!"

He runs his palm over Eddie's shoulder, soothing the discomfort centered in the tendons of his neck. Once he relaxes, Richie trails it down his arm, skirting across his lower back. "I know you all paid good money – frankly too much money – to hear me joke on this stage tonight. But if you don’t mind, I am going to be serious for a minute."

Performative groans echo here and there, but for the most part, everyone's listening attentively.

"Twelve-year-old me was too afraid to be serious about things. The gay thing, the in love with my best friend thing. God, a lot of things." He turns to Eddie, his throat bobbing with nerves. "I’m not afraid anymore."

He’s thirty years older, his joints a lot creakier, but it’s the simplest thing in the world to drop to his knee and reach for the tiny velvet box in his pocket.

"Sorry it isn’t red-flavored," he says dryly, unclasping it to reveal the gold band inside. "Or edible."

In addition to the spotlights, there’s a dozen camera flashes going off. None of it matters, his sole focus on Eddie's deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Rich," Eddie wheezes. It isn't an asthma attack, though it sounds like one. "What are you doing?"

"About to be shitting my pants on stage." Eddie snorts out a laugh, an effortless reminder of how in love with him Richie is. "But you make me brave."

The creases of his mouth loosen, his eyes wet around the edges. After a year, Eddie still tends to get that look – that look of utter awe. Less now than before, yet it seems that no matter how much or how often he's told, Eddie is awed by being so loved. Luckily, Richie never tires of telling him.

"Eds, I love you more than anything on earth. Will you marry me?"

He barely asks the question before Eddie hauls him to his feet, down into a kiss so hot his glasses fog up.

The audience erupts into deafening applause. Richie doesn't need to hear anything besides the frantic "yes, yes, yes, I love you, you idiot" Eddie’s pressing against his lips. Parting with a firm, wet smack of lips, Richie pulls away before he jumps him there on stage.

"You’ve been a lovely audience, folks!" he exclaims into the mic. "But if you'll excuse us, I've got a proposal to consummate. "

With a wink, Richie bustles Eddie off-stage. They make it past the curtain before he’s got Eddie hiked up against the wall.

Eddie paws at his shirt, while Richie’s slide towards the swell of his ass. "Can’t wait to get you out of these clothes, God, Eds," he moans reverently, raking his eyes over his fiancé – hang on. "Is that my shirt?"

"Is that my ring?" Eddie fires back. He’s smirking, though, and oh, without a shadow of a doubt, he was getting laid after the show, proposal or no.

"All yours, baby." Richie takes the hint nonetheless, slipping the ring on Eddie’s finger, where it belongs. He can’t resist another kiss, this one longer, sweeter.

"I was always yours," Eddie murmurs once they’ve parted, cheeks pleasantly flushed. "All you had to do was ask."

And it’s shit like that, confessions of love spoken so plainly, without the conflict that’s ruled most of their lives, that reminds Richie how lucky they are to have each other.

They are also a huge pain in each other’s ass, so, "Does that mean I should return the ring?"

"Fuck no," Eddie scoffs. "I’m wearing it forever. And tonight, for sure."

"It’ll be the only thing I wear tonight," he adds, a sultry whisper against in Richie’s ear.

He really is the luckiest man, ever.

#reddie #reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it chapter 2 #oblivious childhood sweethearts eventually realize they're in love #and eddie lives so they live happily ever after #rip to stephen king and andy but I'm different

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 107 prt 1

107

“Careful! You’ve only just got out of hospital this morning”

Lance rolled his eyes at Keith. He totally hadn’t noticed that at all. He totally hadn’t enjoyed standing in the sun, and feeling the cold wind across his. After a week of tests and monitoring, Lance was sooooo not in a rush to go back to that room again

“I’m fine”

“Here, Let’s get you to the sofa. You should be resting”

Keith looped his arm around his waist as if he thought Lance as some kind of wounded soldier and not 5 weeks pregnant. He was doing so much better for having rested and seen his friends.

They went the half truth. A lie that weighed heavily. Pidge and Hunk had come up with Rieva to see him. Hunk in tears that his best bud had had an accident, Pidge having some not so nice words for not letting them come see him sooner. The first three days all he’d pretty much done was sleep. When Mami came, Keith gave up his position beside him in bed, Lance falling asleep against his mother. When he’d woken again, his Mami was talking to Keith about how he’d been as a child. It was embarrassing. His Mami had come to see him three times, thanks to Coran and Shiro picking her up and dropping her off. Krolia had come by to check on him when he’d sent Keith off to find a decent cup of coffee before VOLTRON wound up burnt to the ground. His friends had come twice. Matt was in tears as he apologised, his, and Rieva’s, scents making Lance’s stomach roll, yet he got to thank both of them which made up for the discomfort. Lance knew he couldn’t put off telling his mother, but Coran wanted to do another ultrasound the following week. Provided things were still okayish, he planned to tell her then. Making her worry needlessly over something they couldn’t control... he didn’t want that, but it was hard not to blurt everything out because she was... she was his guiding light.

Forced to sit on the sofa, Lance patted Kosmo as he climbed into his lap. Keith pulling him off him

“Babe, you’ve got to be careful. You can’t let him climb on you like that”

“Coran wouldn’t have let me out if it wasn’t alright. I feel better. I’m doing better”

They were keeping the baby, but not telling anyone for the time being. He was too tired to tell his Mami, and honestly was avoiding the conversation for now until it’d sunk in

“You still need to take it easy”

“I am. I don’t know how much easier I can take things”

Keith argued that he should take time off work. Lance disagreed. Keith was cranky. Lance stressed. Shiro stepping in to gently pursued Keith that as long as Lance was at VOLTRON he was getting the best care he could. Keith had work throughout the day, suiting Lance fine as it meant cuddles at the end of it. His body was telling him to rest, and he was listening

“Maybe the bed would be better?”

Reaching up, Lance pulled Keith down by his shirt to awkwardly kneel at his level. He didn’t want Keith to leave, still, this wasn’t about him. Keith needed to head to work, the scent of him in the apartment was strong enough to make him feel safe. Pursing his lips, his boyfriend kissed him gently like he’d wanted him to do. Smiling from the kiss, Lance hoped it’d relieved some of Keith’s worries

“Babe, I’m fine. I’ve got the TV and my soap operas to catch up on”

“I should be here”

Lance rolled his eyes again, before kissing Keith

“I’m not going to die from loneliness just because you’ve got to go to work. I’ve got my phone thanks to Rieva, go enjoy being bossed around. I’m just gonna look at some stuff online and watch TV”

“You need to cancel my birthday weekend too”

Lance didn’t want to fight, but that wasn’t happening

“We’re still going”

“You can’t be traipsing across the country side”

“First off, who says “traipsing”. Secondly, I am living for that get away. Coran said if everything stays good, we’ll be able to go. Even if I can’t go, I still want everyone else to have fun”

“But the baby...”

“Isn’t going anywhere if I can help it. I’ll call if anything happens, which it won’t. You’re fussing too much”

“You’re not fussing enough!”

Lance let out a chuckle

“If you’re this bad, I can’t imagine what you’re gonna be like when I pop this baby out. I’m fine, I’ll be fine. You’re only at work until 5, then you’re back home”

“That’s ages”

“Babe, it’s 6 hours”

“Seeeee ages!”

Not for a vampire it wasn’t. But to be without Keith it was. He wasn’t going to be selfish. If it got too much, he’d take himself to bed and sleep until his boyfriend returned

“Time will pass sooner than you think with all your secret Blade work”

“I’d rather be here”

“I know. Look, I won’t even do housework. I’ll be good. Here, bathroom, kitchen or bed. That’s it”

“You’re not supposed to be moving around”

“I’m not going to be running laps of the apartment. Not with this little one to think of. Now give me another kiss”

Keith tried to draw out leaving as long as possible. Lance finding it cute. When his boyfriend finally left, he pulled his phone out as Kosmo jumped up on the sofa for pats. Keith wanted them to work this out together which meant he needed to understand more about what being pregnant entailed so he knew if something was wrong. Having a human baby inside of him, Coran wanted him to graze throughout the day in an attempt to get down as many calories as he could for the little one. Keith had to pick up a few things from the chemist on the way home from work, Lance not reminding him as he seemed sad enough over leaving. His boyfriend was basically an overgrown puppy.

After an hour of reading too much, he dropped his phone at the sound of someone outside the apartment. Kosmo growling, before leaping off the sofa and rushing to the door. Lance felt the need to bolt to safety. To lock himself in Keith’s room. He felt foolish when Shiro unlocked the door. Of course Shiro would be back. He was stuck on night shifts and surveillance, though Lance wasn’t sure if that was related to Honerva or trying to keep the peace. Letting himself in, Shiro went about locking the door again and setting the alarm, before scooping Kosmo up for pats. The hunter jumping as he noticed Lance, Lance flinching momentarily

“Sorry, Lance. I completely forgot you’d be home today. Nice to see you out of that place”

Lance forced himself to relax. Shiro didn’t sound mad. Tired, but not mad. He’d stressed repeatedly that was okay for Lance to stay, but Lance still felt guilty as he couldn’t really contribute anything to the household lest Keith worry

“Hey, Shiro. Uh, how was work?”

“Long. I’m ready for bed. How’s freedom?”

“Better than four white walls... Keith’s made me promise not to do anything”

Shiro chuckled, Kosmo licking at his face as Shiro tried to be out of reach and failed

“I can imagine. Don’t worry about him. He’ll settle down”

“Dude, we both know that’s not true. He doesn’t even want me getting up to use the bathroom”

Keith had to help him use the bathroom more than once thanks to his lack of energy and Lance had felt an all time low over his useless

Shiro chuckled again

“He’s just excited. I’ve already been told I’m not allowed to make your kid lame like me”

A smile formed on the edges of Lance’s lips

“You’re gonna be like the favourite uncle an he’s already jealous. This kid is going to be so confused. A werewolf for uncle. A slightly cursed uncle. A grandmother pushing 90. A hunter for an uncle... I could go on...”

Shiro dropped Kosmo down on the sofa, his fur son giving him a cocky look over his shoulder, before jumping off to trot after Shiro into the kitchen. His love for Lance lost to the slightest chance of a treat from his uncle

“On the plus side I don’t think anyone outside of a royal family has had this much protection. I’m gonna make some coffee, you want one?”

“Nah, I’m good... if you want to watch TV I can move”

“It’s fine. I usually just have it on for background noise until I fall asleep. Besides, I don’t think we’ve been alone like this for a while”

That was true. Keith was like a guard dog when Lance was in VOLTRON’s infirmary

“Not since Keith decided he bitumen needed his skin more than him”

Keith had the scars from the accident. The lighter ones would fade one day, yet Lance would never forget to treasure the darker ones as proof Keith was still alive. His boyfriend a little self conscious, but Lance didn’t mind. Shiro hummed, setting about getting his mug out and his coffee made

“Yeah, that sounds about right. How are you feeling, mother, or is father, to be?”

He wasn’t the first man to be pregnant, though his plumbing was a little unusual

“Father to be. And I know it’s been a week, but it’s still pretty surreal”

“I can’t imagine. I already talked to Keith, and he’s still pretty shocked”

“I don’t blame him. This wasn’t exactly planned”

“Still, it gives you guys hope for the future. I hope we can wrap this case up soon”

That’s be nice. Nice to know Lotor had left and life was returning to normal

“So do I... I know I’m not supposed to be prying, but if you need someone to bounce ideas off, I’m here. Literally. Keith seems pretty keen on me avoiding going home. He really has an issue at the thought of me and stairs”

“I know you couldn’t help it, but you could have been less dramatic about announcing you’re pregnant”

Lance felt himself laugh before he realised his mood had actually picked up. Shiro wasn’t Keith, but having someone in the apartment washed away the loneliness he didn’t know he felt. He’d been so spoilt for attention lately

“Trust me, I would have picked a different time too. Maybe, like, in a few years.... like, when Honerva was dealt with and Keith was in a better place?”

“He’s already in a better place. He worked his arse off for the Blades, and still felt like nothing. Now matter what Adam and I did or said. I’d been with Blades so long that I guess I was used to their...”

Shiro paused as he tried to think of how to word it

“Particular brand of weirdness?”

Shiro snorted, Lance kind of happy he could talk to Shiro like this without pretence or being careful with his words

“Yeah. Pretty much. He’s really come out of his shell”

“He’s still a little anger loaf at heart. He always had it in him”

“He has. Lately he’s come to see that, and as his brother, I’m relieved”

Shiro and Keith were tight. This little one had him wishing he had someone like Shiro

“You’re a good brother to him. I can’t help but be jealous”

“You know what they say, family is what you make it. Blood doesn’t matter when it comes to being there for those you care about”

Lance’s hand drifted to his belly. He didn’t really know why, but rubbing his belly seemed to have some psychosomatic effect on making him feel better

“You okay there?”

Catching Shiro watching, Lance ducked his head

“Yeah. This little one definitely wasn’t planned, I want you to know, I’d never deny Keith access to them, or you. Keith and I are still in the honeymoon phase, despite all that’s happened. Sometimes I can’t help but caught up in all the “what ifs””

“I could say I know what you mean, but I only have a vague idea. Keith was already all grown up when I found him. Things really weren’t great at first”

“How not great are we talking?”

“He stole my car. He eventually came back, but he was so full of anger and confusion. It took a long time to build that trust up”

That actually sounded definitely like something Keith would do. He lashed out something fierce when he was trying to protect himself from developing feelings

“I can’t even imagine. This one has so much love around them already. Shiro, if anything happens, you’ll be there, right?”

“Nothing’s gone to happen. I know what you’re asking, and you don’t need to ask”

“I kind of do. I haven’t told Keith but my anxiety has been pretty whack. Sleeping so much helped keep the thoughts away”

“I’m sure he already knows. He sent me a long list of things I’m not allowed to do or say, and I’m supposed to make sure you eat”

Lance groaned. Food was not his friend. It went down and it came up. At least here he’d have some form of privacy for that bit

“He’s obsessed with that. I don’t think he thought about it when he sentenced me to sitting on the sofa”

“He knows you like Italian, had me pick up some last night. Then he sent me on a chase to find garlic knots too. I know I’ve known you six months now, but I don’t think I can cope with a vampire who eats garlic”

“Which is weirder, that I walk about in the sun, or, that I eat garlic?”

“Definitely the sun. I wasn’t sure you were a vampire to begin with. It’s not like they teach us that vampires are out and about in the sun”

“Coran says it’s because I turned so young. Then again, we don’t really go up in flames until after the third degree burns”

“Did he say anything about the baby?”

“They should be human from what I understand. Lotor already seems to know I’m pregnant. Keith says I’m being paranoid”

The more he thought about the more he was certain Lotor knew, and this body knew too. That’d by why he’d subconsciously tried to protect his belly

“Maybe we can throw Lotor out in the sun?”

Lance laughed again. How he wished

“I don’t think Allura would be too happy. She’s already mad he’s being so useless”

Bringing his cup of coffee over, Lance tried not to smell it. He didn’t know what it was about the scent... it just made him feel gross. Sitting down, Shiro put his feet up on the coffee table, Kosmo half sat on for not moving. It was now a battle of wills

“They used to date, from the sound of it?”

“Yeah. Long before I was born. They were closer thanks to Honerva and the whole fae thing. Then he kicked her heart to the curb by leaving. He didn’t cheat on her. I thought that was it, but it was him making all these plans to leave then leaving without telling her. She’s not so quick to forgive. She’s really making Lotor work for her time”

“Good on her. I did worry she’d let her past feelings sweep her away”

“They did... kind of. She’s kind of a bit like Keith. Really good at not forgiving and forgetting. Not that that’s a bad thing. The pain fucking sucks”

“You know what else sucks? Kosmo. Move it buster, off!”

Kosmo crawled into Lance’s lap, ignoring Shiro telling him to get off. The doggo shooting Shiro a wounded glance as he made himself comfortable on Lance

“Kosmo, off!”

Huffing sadly, Kosmo stood right on Lance’s junk before using him to jump. Lance groaning as he drew his knees up

“Paw to the junk?”

Shiro asked sympathetically, Lance nodding

“He’s best boy, but those paws are no joke”

“He’s good for finding the wrong places to stand. Managed to do it to me and Curtis once...”

“Ugh. I feel your pain. Keith’s been trying to keep him off me. He thinks Kosmo’s going to hurt the baby”

“Kosmo is boisterous”

“Kosmo is best boy, living his best life. Keith brought him to visit and he ended up getting into the cupboards. I think he had the time of his doggy life messing up the room”

“I bet that went well with Keith”

“I slept. Angry Keith can be scary”

“That he can. At least he wasn’t throwing knives”

“This is true. Do you want the remote?”

“Nah. It’s fine. Curtis had been trying to get me into soap operas”

“That’d be my fault. I thought he’d be here”

He missed Curtis. Maybe in some way Curtis was kind of like the cousin he’d lied and said he was. His bluntness wasn’t always comforting, but at least he didn’t hide things

“Matt and him have been hanging out with Sam a lot lately. Whatever the deal with his curse is, it gave Sam some pretty interesting readings”

“Appliances don’t seem Curtis friendly”

“Nope. Keith’s banned him from going near the coffee machine”

“I’m not surprised. These days I’m more surprised when he finds a way to function before coffee”

“You should see him after a mission. He has to have his coffee or he’s a moody bastard”

Lance laughed, he knew that too well

“Yeah. He tells me about it in chat, or calls if it’s around 6 because he knows I usually get up then”

“You’ve got him trained”

A blush appeared in Lance’s cheeks. He could always count on Keith to message him. Now he was thinking about him solely, he really missed him, a small whine escaping before he could stop himself

“What was that?”

“Apparently I do that. I’m putting it down to this whole breeder thing... it kind of happens”

“Because you’re missing Keith?”

“Pretty much”

“I’m not Keith, but if you need a hug...”

Lance very shyly leaned against Shiro who sling his arm over his shoulders

“I’m sorry. He’s spoilt me so much that I feel a little lost when he’s not here”

“You don’t have to explain, kiddo. You’re going through a lot right now”

“I’m freaking the fuck out internally”

“I would be too. But you’ll get through this”

“Yeah... yeah, I know. I want to tell Mami, but I decided to wait until the ultrasound next week”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“Especially right now. She... she protected me so much growing up. My family say I leach off her... but when I was making enough money, the first thing I did was get us a better house and I never wanted her to go into a home”

“If you want to bring her here, I understand”

“Thanks, but this is your home. It’s like I tried to explain to Keith. You and he need a place you know is safe. Mami doesn’t mean to talk but sometimes it comes out. I don’t want to put you guys in danger”

Shiro ruffled his hair

“It makes helping you hard. I’ve always respected that you respect the people around you. I never should have been so harsh on you when I came back”

“You had a lot going on. You didn’t know how Keith was going to be and you left your whole life behind to come here. You lost a lot thanks fo vampires...”

Still, it felt nice to have Shiro apologise properly. He didn’t blame Shiro at all for worrying over Keith

“Things got really rough after Adam. Keith blamed himself for so long. I should have talked him sooner than I did, but I didn’t... I wasn’t there yet”

“Sometimes it’s like that. Adam was important to you. Plus, your brother doesn’t always phrase things right. It took you to point it out for us to realise he didn’t have a heart condition but a crush”

“Don’t remind me. I swear every grey I have is because of him”

“If you think that’s bad, try looking like a teenager. I’m sick of it”

“Some vampires do seem to age”

“Yeah, I’m still a baby vampire really. I’ve got to be pushing like a century. Then again, look at Lotor. He’s old as fuck and prances around like a college jock-strap wanker”

Shiro chuckled

“I don’t think anyone has ever called him that before”

“If you can’t tell, I have pretty strong opinions on vampires”

“Oh, I can tell. Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

“I’m alright. If I fall asleep, just leave me here. I’ve got most of my strength back, but I still feel really drained”

“Emotional stress will do that. Besides, not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I could lift you up”

“Dude, I’ve totally put muscle on”

“Sure you have”

Lance pouted. His ego annoyed. He’d never been in better shape, other than being fatigued and pregnant. He’d never worked out as much as he had over the last few months, and though undead. He was sure he fitter than ever

“I totally have. And I’ve trained with Matt, Curtis, Keith, and Lotor. I’m deceptively heavy”

“And still Keith manages to carry you around”

Keith made it look easy and it wasn’t fair. His boyfriend wasn’t a muscle meat head, instead he was like deceptively strong

“Is this a sibling rival thing? Who can pick up and carry the vampire around?”

“Maybe?”

Lance groaned at him. He didn’t want to be in the middle of that particular fight

“Please don’t pick me up and carry me around. Let me pretend I’m tough and manly”

“You’re a tuff and manly twig”

Ouch... His gremlin would have laughed herself stupid if she’d heard

“Now you sound like Pidge”

“She’s a smart one. Nah, you’re fine the way you are. I won’t move you if you don’t want to be, but if you need help, let me know”

“Thanks, Shiro. Honestly I’m zonked, but I don’t know if I’m gonna freak out being moved. I don’t want to risk it”

“Alright. Now, what the hell is going on in this show?”

Keith was flustered as he left work. Krolia had pulled him aside to ask if he was okay, Keith knew she was trying to ask if he’d read her letter yet. He hadn’t, then he’d been snappy towards her without meaning to. His mother kind of seemed like a different person these days. More human and more approachable... and that had him thinking maybe he’d been unfair to her for a while now. It took Lance getting pregnant to actually fucking get it. He’d never leave Lance like she had, but if he had to live in constant fear of bringing home werewolves or vampires on his tail, he could see how not going home was an option he might be forced to entertain. His dad hadn’t been a loner. Stray feelings of his dad having friends lingered then disappeared when he tried to focus. Maybe if his dad had had friends like his and Lance’s... No. Going down that road only brought up the pain of the past. He’d awkwardly apologised to her in his own way before leaving, calling Shiro as he did.

When Shiro didn’t answer, Keith ran all the way to the apartment. He hadn’t tried Lance’s phone. His lover needed his rest, as tempting and as hard as it was not to message him. Letting himself into the apartment, Keith melted at the sight in front of him. Shiro and Lance were both asleep on the sofa, Kosmo cuddled into Lance’s side, wagging his tail as his tongue lolled out. Yeah. He was kind of ready to yell, and kind of jealous, but Lance had needed comfort from the look of it, and Shiro had stepped up to be there for him. Leaving the alarm too long, Kosmo started howling as the alarm went off. Lance and Shiro both jumping as they were rudely awakened. Hurriedly Keith turned the alarm off, the apartment falling silent after a way too long moment. Damn it. He should have got a photo of Lance and Shiro sleeping. His brother, his dog, and his boyfriend. His little family safe and well... and now wide awake.

Closing the door, Keith dropped his backpack next to it. Lance was rubbing at his ears, Shiro trying to bring Kosmo under control. His poor boy hated the alarm

“Sorry. I didn’t punch the code in in time”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 4 years

Note

Oh my, I need to know what is going to happen with Niko and Kev after Kev panicked

Winter spends the night picking the pieces and gluing Niko back together again. They wipe the tears from his face and convince him to stay right where he is until they come back. They’re only gone ten minutes but it feels like ten years so Niko buries himself in a nest of Winter’s sheets. When they make it back upstairs with a shit ton of food, their chest aches bc look at him! He looks like a literal child hiding from his father. That’s when they send the text message to Kevin. It’s not that they mind Niko staying over, they’re just so upset bc he’s in so much pain. Platonic cuddles ensue bc neither of them have confessed yet.

Kevin is crying as he curls up in Aaron’s arms. Amalia is still very angry at her father but he’s crying now so she sits with him too. None of them really know what to do. Niko doesn’t know about his biological parents yet and neither of them are keen on telling him just yet. Instead, Aaron holds Kevin until his tears run dry and tucks him into bed. Amalia decides she’s going to spend the night in her dads’ room so she gets tucked in beside him.

As soon as Aaron leaves the room, Kevin calls Niko. It goes straight to voicemail. Kevin curls up around his daughter and tries not to cry again.

Aaron calls too and, right before it can go to voicemail, Niko picks up.

“Niko.” His name came out in a breath Aaron hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Dad.” The crack in Niko’s voice shatters Aaron’s heart. He’s never heard Niko sound so hurt.

“I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you get some sleep, alright?” Aaron couldn’t see him but he knew Niko was nodding. Sometimes, when things hurt too much, Niko had the tendency to shut down. His brain stopped functioning and he forgot how to speak. Selective mutism was something that often accompanied anxiety but, with his new medication, Niko’s episodes were getting fewer and farther between. Aaron worried his bottom lip between his teeth. How far back is this going to set him? It didn’t matter. They’d figure it out. They always did. “Can I talk to Winter?”

“Sir?” Winter’s voice was softer than freshly fallen snow.

“How’s he doing?”

“He hasn’t spoken since he got here. Ko, had to write down what happened.” Aaron cursed. “I’ll bring him home tomorrow morning. How’s your husband?” Winter’s voice went tight. Unlike Aaron, whose anger raged like a fire, there was something frigid about Winter’s anger that sent chills down his spine.

“Kevin feels terrible.”

“He should.” And the line went dead. Winters in Washington were harsh and unforgiving. Winter Aziz was no different. Aaron slipped his phone into his pocket and scrubbed a hand over his face. Tomorrow morning was going to be Hell. Cracking the bedroom door open, he slid in and got changed in the closet. He tossed his phone onto the nightstand before climbing into bed. Kevin’s arm wrapped instinctively around him and Amalia scooched closer in her sleep. It wasn’t long before sleep dragged Aaron’s eyes shut, leaving all his problems for the morning.

Sleep didn’t come quite so easily to Niko. Trapped in the confines of his mind, he struggled to explain to Winter why everything hurt so much. It didn’t seem to matter though. Winter knew everything there was to know about him. They knew that the sting of Kevin’s slap was nothing compared to the complete and utter betrayal of Niko’s trust. In the background, an old bollywood movie was playing but neither Niko paid it no attention. Instead, he found himself quite content to stare at Winter. Reaching a careful hand out, he buried it into the messy mop of curls atop their head. They turned to look at him then.

“Pretty,” he managed to struggle out. A flush of color crept up Winter’s necks and their cheeks went pink. Every time Niko began to think Winter was as beautiful as they could get, they went and proved him wrong. Niko let his hand fall out of their hair and trail down their cheek.

“Niko,” Winter said, a note of warning in their voice. He let his hand fall away entirely. He watched in silence as they stood and drifted around the room, getting ready for bed. They’d already dragged him out of bed to brush his teeth and sat him down on a stool in the tub to give him a very quick bath. That had been a rather interesting ordeal.

Winter had commanded Niko to strip down to his boxers and sit down on the stool. As always, Niko did what he was told. He’d watched as Winter rolled up their sleeves and stripped down to their own boxers before stepping in behind him. With gentle hands, they’d washed his hair and scrubbed his body. A little soap had fallen onto Winter’s nose, something that had only become apparent to Niko as they’d shifted to stand in front of him. Immediately, he found himself filled with the urge to kiss it off. Without thinking, he’d caught their face in his hand and drew them close. It was only at the last second that he realized what he was doing and managed to change his motion from a kiss to blowing the bubbles off their face. Winter’s laughter had filled the bathroom as they swiped the last of the soap off their face. They’d helped Niko out before handing him a towel and some clothes and sending him on his way.

Laying in bed, Niko wondered if there’d ever be a time when he wouldn’t want to kiss Winter. He highly doubted that. Maybe one day he’d grow the balls to actually do it. The lights clicked off but the moonlight streaming through the open window illuminated Winter’s form. Some days, Niko truly believed that they had been crafted from the mantle of one of the moon’s craters and given life by the light of its rays. There was something so otherworldly and ethereal about Winter that he could think of no other explanation. He’d told them as much once and they’d laughed.

“No moon could shine without the light of their sun,” Winter had replied.

“Who’s your sun?” Niko had asked. Winter hadn’t said anything, opting instead to brush one of Niko’s stray curls from his face. Oh. Niko’s face burned brighter than any star at the implication.

There were times when Niko let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, Winter might like him. It was a stupid thought to have and Niko knew it couldn’t be true but... it was just such a nice thought. A future with Winter was nothing more than a daydream, a reverie with which Niko had spent so many endless hours envisioning that it might have been enough to constitute a lifetime on its own.

Niko rolled over onto his side to give Winter space on the bed. If he dared to lay facing them, there’d be no chance of him getting any sleep at all. On more than one occasion, Niko had wasted the whole night studying the soft curves of Winter’s face. The bed shifted slightly beneath Winter’s slight weight. An arm came, wrapping around his torso and drawing him in. Niko’s heart nearly stopped when Winter laced their hand through his and pressed it to his chest.

“Goodnight, Nikoshi,” they mumbled into the back of his neck. It took every ounce of his will to control the full-body shudder the heat of their breath elicited. There really would be no sleep tonight for him, would there?

Amalia woke first. Normally she’d be content to lay there between her dads but today was Saturday and on Saturdays, she watched Fish Hooks with Niko. She scrambled out of bed, careful not to hit either of her dads on her way out. She padded across the hall to his room. The door was wide open and Niko was nowhere to be found. Her chest tightened as she tiptoes downstairs. The living room and kitchen were empty too.

The door alarm chimed and Amalia rushed to the foyer in time to see Winter step in with Niko not far behind. Amalia raced up to her brother and flung her arms around him.

“Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go,” she chanted.

“Where?” Niko asked.

“We’re going to miss Fish Hooks,” Amalia whined as she tugged him towards the living room. A look passed between Niko and Winter. “You’re Imzadi can come too,” Amalia said. Niko made a strangled noise as he looked at her in horror.

“What’s an Imzadi?” Winter asked, shutting the front door.

“Friend,” Niko replied quickly. Amalia grinned up at her brother, content to watch him squirm. She took his hand and led him to the living room, Winter trailing behind. The three of them sat down on the couches and watched tv until they heard the familiar shuffling of their father on the steps. Niko went rigid and the memories of the day before flooded her mind.

Kevin stopped short at the sight of Niko on the couch. Having Niko home was like having a thousand-pound weight taken off his chest but the glare Niko gave him now seemed to weigh even more.

“Can we... talk?” Kevin asked quietly. He watched as Winter tightened their grip on Niko’s arm but he shook it off as he stood. Kevin followed silently after Niko as they headed for the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of his mouth. Niko looked unimpressed. “I’m going to show you something and you can not tell Amalia. She’ll find out in her own time.” With those words, Kevin tugged his shirt off to reveal the mess of scars that ran along his torso. He heard Niko curse under his breath.

“How-”

“Who,” Kevin corrected. “When I was very young, my mother died and I was sent to live with a friend of hers. Tetsuji Moriyama was not kind to me but his nephew was. Riko was like a brother to me and the only family I’d ever known. There’s a lot of things about the Moriyamas that I need to tell you but now is not the time. Neil and Jean are coming to visit this summer. I’ll tell you everything then, but now, what you need to know is that my brother hurt me. It started with small things: hitting me when he got mad, shoving me when I got in the way, and then it escalated to-” the words caught in Kevin’s throat and he swallowed hard. He shut his eyes then. “To this,” he said, gesturing the scars that crisscrossed his torso and raced down his forearm. He couldn’t bear to look at them.“Riko tried to ruin me and, for a second, I thought that you’d ruin Amalia too.”

No answer came. Not a verbal one at least. Instead, Kevin felt Niko’s arms wrap around him, crushing him close. Hot tears seared Kevin’s skin. He held Niko tight.

“I’m not him,” Niko choked out.

“No,” Kevin agreed. “You’re most definitely not.”

#just a pipe dream #all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg #tfc #all for the gay #the foxes #aaron micheal minyard #aaron minyard #kevin day #kevaaron #nikoshi doe #winter aziz #amalia day #reveal to me your deepest desires

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years

Text

BTS DRABBLE

Anon Request: Jealous Bangtan-you’re giving too much attention to someone you work with, and not enough attention to the boys.

Tags: bangtan, BTS, bangtan boys, my work, anon request, my asks, my requests, husband AU, boyfriend AU, fluff, angst, jealous, fanfiction, bts drabble, seokjin x you, hoseok x you, yoongi x you, namjoon x you, jimin x you, taehyung x you, jungkook x you, BTS x you, reactions

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Title: Jealousy is on the Rise

KIM SEOKJIN

You pushed open the door to your apartment, your arms full of books and blueprints, your briefcase hooked over one forearm, your heels clacking on the tile floor as you called out, “Hey babe! Sorry I’m so late!”

“Jagi! Finally!” You heard your husband call from the kitchen, as he poked his head around the corner, eyeing the armful of work you carried as you dumped the heavy load on the kitchen counter, letting out a sigh of relief as you lost all the weight.

Stepping around the counter to kiss him on the cheek, you offered him a smile as you sniffed the air and said, “Something smells good. What are you cooking?”

He grinned at you and put an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side as he walked you to the dining room, motioning to the table that held several bowls of steaming Ramen and other dishes. “I made dinner for you. I figured you’d be hungry after such a long day at work.”

“Oh.” You grimaced slightly at his words, The gesture was so sweet, but you had totally forgotten to mention to him before coming home that you had already eaten at the office.

‘What?” He must have noticed the hint of disappointment in your tone, because he paused from dishing up bowls of Ramen, his gaze scrutinizing your face, his hand held over the pot, frozen.

“Um.” You hesitated, giving him a slightly regretful half smile as you went on. “Since we were at work so late, working on the new city center project, Paul and I just ordered and split some takeout.”

He stared at you, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly, but then he forced a fake smile back onto his face and said, “Oh. Okay.” He picked up the bowl he had dished for you, and walking past you into the kitchen, set the whole thing in the sink, steaming food and all.

Uh oh. He was mad.

“Babe?” You stepped up behind him, as he started to furiously scrub dishes, not saying anything to your curious query. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”

“It’s fine.” His words were nonchalant, but his underlying tone said otherwise, as he continued to scrub plates so hard you thought they would break. “I just didn’t know Paul and you were having dinner together. That’s all.”

Surprised at his sharp statement, something clicked in your head, and you felt a slight smile draw across your face, as you wrapped your arms around his waist, saying in amusement, “Babe. Are you jealous?”

“What? No, that’s ridiculous.” He glanced over his shoulder at you, trying to hid his expressions, but his eyes told all.

You grinned at him, poking him in the side as you exclaimed, “Seokjin, you are! You’re jealous. Of who? Paul?” Giggling at this sudden revelation, he tried to shove you away as you continued to tease him, “Babe, come on. Have you seen Paul? He’s got nothing on you. You’re worldwide handsome!”

“Shut up.” He dried his hands on a dishtowel, scowling and blatantly ignoring you, as he moved to the stove to gather up the pots and pans there. “It’s not funny, (Y/N).”

Sobering yourself, hiding your smile behind your hand as you watched him stomp around the kitchen like a petulant child, you said seriously, “You’re right. I’m sorry, babe.” Leaning against the counter, still watching him, you added, “I really am sorry.”

You saw his broad shoulders heave in a sigh, his back toward you as he continued to do the dishes, and then he grumbled out, “It’s fine. Thanks for apologizing.”

“Besides.” Your fingers reached up to unbutton the top button of your work blouse, as you continued to stare at him, biting your lip seductively as you said huskily, “No matter who I eat dinner with, babe, you’re always the only one who gets dessert.”

He sighed again, turned to face you, his hands wet and dripping with soap, as he said grumpily, “Jagi, I’m really not hungry....” His words trailed off as he saw you unbuttoning your shirt, revealing a flash of the lacy bra beneath.

You arched your eyebrow at him seductively, as his eyes widened in understanding. “Different kind of dessert, babe.” You murmured out, crossing the kitchen and taking his wet hand in yours, pulling him after you toward the bedroom.

Glancing over your shoulder as he willingly followed you, you asked, amusement once again back in your tone, “So are you done with your little hissy jealousy fit?”

“No.” He growled out, his arms going around your waist, as he pushed your toward your bedroom, His warm breath against your ear made you shiver as he muttered, “But I can pick it up again later. There’s more important things than Paul that need my attention right now.”

Laughing, you allowed him to push you before him into your bedroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click, and the jealousy was forgotten.

At least for the moment.

MIN YOONGI

“Yoongs!” You called out for your boyfriend, as you pushed open the door to his studio, your backpack slung over your shoulder.

He glanced up from his computer, his face lit up by the screen, at your call, and asked, “What’s up, jagi?”

Crossing the room, you rested your hands on his shoulders, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek as he turned back to his work. Glancing over the music on the screen, you absentmindedly said, your chin now resting comfortably on his head, “I just came to say goodbye. I have to go into work for a bit.”

Your words caught his attention. He glanced up at you, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he said, “But it’s Saturday.”

You sighed, your sudden expiration ruffling his hair, and then whined out, “I know. But they called some important meeting last minute. It’s mandatory that everyone attend.” You motioned to the computer screen before you and then added, “Besides, you’re gonna be working this afternoon anyway. I’ll be done this evening, and then we can do something together.”

He turned his focus back to his work, his long fingers tapping across the keys of the keyboard, and there was silence for a moment, before he asked quietly, catching you off guard, “Is Jens going to be there?”

You laughed awkwardly, still a little surprised by the odd question, and straightened, tugging at your backpack straps as you said carefully, “I mean, he is my boss. And since he’s the one who called the mandatory meeting, I would hope so.”

His dark eyes, merely slits in his face as he studied the music intently before him, flickered with an emotion you didn’t recognize, and then he said, his tone suddenly cool, “You hope so? Are you looking forward to seeing him, (Y/N)?”

Surprised at how quickly his tone had gone cold at the mention of my boss, you put your hands on your hips, suddenly feeling defensive as you addressed the back of his head, your own tone slightly sharp as you snapped back, “It’s just an expression, Yoongi. What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He finally turned to look at you, spinning around in his computer chair so suddenly that you took a step back in surprise, his dark eyes hooded by his bangs falling over his porcelain forehead and into his eyes as he steepled his fingers before his lips, glaring at you. “My problem?” He repeated again, pointing one long, slender finger at you in accusation. “I don’t have a problem. Unless you consider the fact that my girlfriend seems to spend more time with her boss than me, her boyfriend, and that she clearly prefers his company over mine.”

Your mouth dropped open at his absurd and angry statement. “What the hell are you talking about?” You choked out, confusion flitting across your features, quickly replaced by anger as he continued to pin you under his heated gaze.

“I’m talking about the fact that your boss, Jens, seems to require your company more and more lately. And that you’re always ready to run to his beck and call.” He hissed out between clenched teeth, standing from his chair and taking a step toward you, his work long forgotten in the face of our argument.

An argument that had come out of the blue, with no context.

“What....You...” You sputtered out, seeing red, so angry now that your words weren’t even forming coherent sentences. You gathered your thoughts, taking in a deep breath, and then started again, your face flushed as you said hotly, “That’s called a job, Yoongi. We can’t all be like you and work our own hours and be our own boss.” You waved your hand around you at the studio, as you said, your volume raising with emotion, “Some of us actually have to work normal jobs, where we, heaven forbid, DO WHAT OUR BOSS TELLS US TO DO.”

“Oh, okay, so that’s what this is?” He spat out, closing the distance between you, your faces inches from one another, the space between you filled with heated and rage filled breaths. His voice dropped as he said, rage fueling his words, “Just a regular employee boss relationship? Don’t give me that shit, (Y/N). Don’t lie to my face. At least be respectable and tell me the damn truth.”

Your mouth dropped open for the second time in so many minutes, and you drew in a deep breath, calming yourself as you stepped back from your boyfriend, his face suddenly blank, his fists clenched at his sides. You shook your head, feeling tears start to gather in your eyes, and not wanting to cry in front of him, you managed to get out, your voice soft, hurt, unbelieving, as you addressed him, “You’re an ass, Min Yoongi.”

Pulling your backpack close against your shoulders, you left the Genius Lab behind, your boyfriend standing there, watching you go, in silence.

And he didn’t call you back.

*****

The next day, you were at work, sitting, alone, in the break room, stirring your salad around with a fork, but not eating anything, your mind elsewhere.

You hadn’t heard anything from Yoongi again last night after your fight, and after a restless night of sleep, you had gotten up and ready for work, determined not to reach out to him first.

He owed you an apology.

“Hey (Y/N).” Your coworker sat down beside you, glancing over at the TV as she pulled out her prepacked lunch, pausing as she lifted a bite to her mouth before saying, “Hey, isn’t your boyfriend some famous rapper?”

“Yeah, what of it?” You grumbled out, still messing with your salad, not in the mood to be having small talk, especially about Yoongi.

“Isn’t that him?”

You glanced up at her question, following her gaze to the TV, where one of the boys concerts was being shown. Shit, you’d totally forgotten they had a performance today.

However, what drew your eye, and your coworker’s gaze, was Yoongi, standing in the middle of the stage a microphone in his hand, as he looked into the cameras, his words apologetic as he addressed the crowd, “If my girlfriend is listening to this, I just want her to know. I’m a huge dick. She was right. And I’m apologizing. Publicly. In front of all these people. Which she knows I hate.” He offered a sad smile to the camera and then pointed through the TV with the mic as he said, “Forgive me, jagi?”

You realized a dumb smile had been growing across your face as he talked, and when the camera panned away to someone else, you stood up from the table, surprising your coworker with your sudden movement and not even bothering to put away your food as you grabbed your coat and called over your shoulder, “Hey, can you cover for me? I have to go.”

“But Jens...” Your coworker called out, her tone nervous.

“Stuff him.” You said, giving her a grin as you rushed out of the room, work forgotten, as you headed to the concert venue, intending to show Yoongi just how willing to forgive him you really were.

JUNG HOSEOK

The sound of your phone alert made you roll over onto your side, away from the warm presence of your boyfriend, as you reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the cell phone, squinting slightly to bring the bright screen into view.

Hoseok let out a groan as you took your body away from him, and he followed you, his bare chest warm against your back as he rolled over too, pressing himself against you, burying his face in your neck as he grumbled out, “Who is it?”

Reading through the message, you typed out a response, pausing at his question as you replied back, slightly distracted, “Siyun from work.”

“Ugh.” He let out another groan, pulling back from you slightly, just enough to look at the screen of your phone, as he watched you type out your response, before saying, his tone slightly bitter, “It’s always Siyun.”

You laughed slightly at his obvious annoyance, not looking at him as you finished writing your return message, before saying, “Well, yeah. We work in the same department, Hobi.”

You were just about to hit send on the message, when suddenly, your phone was plucked from your hand by Hoseok’s long fingers, and before you could react, he had tossed the cell phone casually, but with hidden force, across the room. It bounced off the far wall and onto the floor with a solid smack, where it laid, face down.

“Jung Hoseok!” You shrieked out, sitting up in the bed quickly and turning to glare at him, your mouth slightly open at his sudden and unexpected display of petulance. “What if you just broke my phone?”

He shrugged, obviously not bothered by your heated stare, and then said casually, his tone slightly amused, a slight smile flickering across his full lips, “Baby. Please. I’m hella rich. I can buy you ten new phones if you want.”

“Don’t baby me.” You huffed out, throwing the covers off of your legs, getting ready to leave the bed to retrieve your sadly abused cell phone, but before you could make the move, you felt his arms go around your waist, pulling you back against him. Letting out an irritated sigh, you glanced over your shoulder at him and snapped, “Don’t try to play cute with me. That’s not going to get you out of this.”

“Okay, okay.” He muttered, his face buried in the bare skin of your back, his breaths tickling your spine. “I’m sorry for throwing your phone. It’s just Siyun annoys the hell out of me.”

You paused, considering his words, and a sly smile crept across your face as you turned in his arms, leaning over his prone form, your arms on either side of his head as you met his slightly guarded gaze. “Are you jealous, Hobi?” You grinned at him as he shot you a mocking glare, his mouth pulled down in his customary triangular frown. You gasped at his expression, playfully, exaggeratedly, and then reached up a hand to push his dark hair back off his forehead as you said, “You are! The Jung Hoseok is JEALOUS.”

“Baby, I’m going to need you to shut your mouth. Now please.” He grumbled out, avoiding your amused gaze, as he fidgeted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Baby.” You put a finger under his chin, making him look at you, as you gave him a soft smile, and then said softly, “Siyun is just a coworker. Nothing more.” You leaned over to press a kiss to his lips, the feel of his skin against your own warm and familiar, and then you pulled back slightly to murmur, “Besides, how could he compare to the literal sunshine that I have in my life every day?”

He rolled his eyes at you and then said sheepishly, “Okay, okay. I believe you.”

“Good.” You grinned at him, and then leaned over to put your lips to his ear, as you whispered seductively, “If you ever need a reminder, just remember who’s name I was saying over and over again last night.” You blew against his ear, making him shiver slightly, and you felt your lips curl into a smile against his skin as you chanted under your breath, “Jung Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. Jung Hoseok.”

“Okay, okay!” He shoved you off of him and changed positions with you, straddling you on the bed, his hair falling over his brow and into his eyes, his gaze liquid and warm as he grinned at you, filling your chest with sunshine, before he said, “I get the point. Now.” His grin changed to something more sly, a glint in his dark eyes, as he purred out, “About saying my name.”

KIM NAMJOON

Coming out of the bedroom, your hair still damp from your shower, you entered the living room and threw yourself down on the sofa, letting out a long, tired sigh as you snuggled into the soft cushions of the couch, moving to rest your head in your boyfriend’s lap. He shifted underneath you to get more comfortable, glancing down at you for a brief moment to offer you a smile, as he paused in scrolling through his phone. “Hey, jagi. Feel better?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, closing your eyes as he used one hand to run his fingers through your slightly wet hair, going back to his phone as you said, “Work was exhausting today. Although!” You opened your eyes as you continued excitedly, “There’s this super new nice intern in the office. His name is Mark and he seriously was so sweet to me today! He noticed that I was stressed over the new reports, and he brought me coffee on my break, even offering to help me with my extra paperwork.”

You noticed that Joon’s hand had paused in its movements through your hair, and though his gaze was still focused on his phone, his brow was furrowed slightly at your words. Ignoring the weird change in your boyfriend’s behavior, you said, slightly teasing, “Hey, wait a minute. Why aren’t you that nice and overly attentive to me?”

He sighed, glancing over at you before he said, his gaze once again back on his Twitter, “Number one, he’s only being that nice to you because he wants to get in your pants.” Your mouth dropped open at his blunt statement, but before you could protest he continued. “Number two, I am nice to you. But I’m not overly attentive like Mark because I can already get in your pants whenever I please.”

Sitting up, your mouth still hanging open, you sputtered out, “Okay, first off, ew.” He glanced over at you, shrugging slightly as you finally closed your mouth and became indignant, folding your arms over your chest as you said defensively, “And secondly, he doesn’t want to get in my pants. He’s just being nice. He’s a friend.” You pointed a stern finger at your boyfriend, as he quirked one eyebrow at you, a slightly amused smile slipping across his lips as your words grew heated. “Contrary to your belief, Kim Namjoon, males and females can be just friends without wanting to have sex with one another.”

When he was sure you were done, the silence stretching between you, he dropped his phone to his lap and, offering you a slightly knowing look, said confidently, “Okay then. Let’s make a bet.”

“Fine. But prepare to lose.” You scoffed out, glaring at him.

“50,000 won says that he’s trying to sleep with you.” He held up his wallet, having dug it out from his back pocket, and I wanted to wipe his triumphant grin off his smug face as he followed up with, “I’m not stupid, Jagi. I’m a man. I know how we think. You should just trust me on this.”

“Over my cold dead body.” You stuck your tongue out at him and stalked out of the room, as he shrugged once again and went back to scrolling through his phone.

*****

The next evening, when you unlocked the door to the apartment and came into the living room, Joon was waiting, sitting on the couch, a triumphant look washing over his features as he saw you. Watching you set your work bag down on the counter and kick off the high heels that were starting to kill your feet, he draped one arm over the back of the couch casually and said innocently, “So, how was Mark today?”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” You muttered out under you breath, as you opened the fridge and grabbed a cold drink, popping it open and taking a swig.

“What was that?” He asked sweetly, standing from the couch and rounding the counter to stand beside you, watching you carefully, a knowing smile flashing across his lips, his dimples flashing in his cheeks.

“I said.” You set the drink down, suddenly refired up remembering your conversation from the night before, as you offered him a forced smile, determined he would not win this. “Things with Mark were great. He bought me lunch and helped me finish my paperwork for that big presentation I have coming up.”

The smile dropped from his face, and you felt triumph surge through your chest at his serious expression, as he said, his voice flat, collected, “Oh. That’s good.”

Turning away from you, he opened the fridge and grabbed a drink as well, popping it open and taking a long drink, not looking at you, his face still fallen.

The successful feeling in your chest disappeared as soon as it had come, as you watched his disappointed expression and movements, a sudden shift in the air between you. “Joon.” You sighed out, letting go of the competition, as you set your drink down again and crossed the kitchen to stand before him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head slightly, trying to give you a slight smile, as he said, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s stupid.” He took another drink and then crushed the can in his hand, tossing it into the garbage behind you as he said, “I just feel weird that Mark gets to spend so much time with you.”

You laughed, the sound relieved, and then reached up to cup his cheek as you said, slightly amused, “Is that it? Babe. That’s called jealousy.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, saying, “Besides, I’ve decided that Mark and I can’t be friends. We just have too many different interests. It would never work out.”

He stared at you, his gaze scanning your face, and then a bright smile broke through his lips, as a knowing look came over his eyes and he said, his tone smug, “He wanted to get in your pants, didn’t he?”

“Oh hell yes.” You laughed, digging into your pocket for the money for the bet, as you waved it in front of Joon’s face. “You were right. I’m sorry.”

He grinned at you, before setting the money on the counter and pulling you close to him, his lips meeting yours briefly, as he said quietly, “That’s okay. I have a better idea of payment.”

PARK JIMIN

“Shut up!”

You laughed at something Jackson had said, taking another sip of your coffee as he grinned at you, nodding vigorously as he said, “It’s all true. It really happened.”

You chuckled again, shaking your head at his story. “I cannot believe that.”

You both laughed again, drinking your coffee in silence for several seconds, before your conversation was interrupted by the sound of the intercom system. The tinny voice of a nurse came over the speakers. “Dr. Park, please come to the front reception area.”

“Oh!” You glanced over your shoulder, to where the front desk was just in view, barely around the corner, and then turned back to Jackson, saying apologetically, “Just a second. I’ll only be a minute.”

He nodded in understanding, as you picked up your coffee, your heels clicking on the tile floors as you walked down the corridor to the other desk. Securing your stethoscope around your neck, and patting the pocket of your lab coat to make sure you had your pen and notepad, you came around the slight corner and stopped, a grin spreading across your face at the sight of your husband. He was leaned against the desk, his legs clad in ripped black jeans, his sweater tight around his toned upper body, his sunglasses covering his eyes, his silver hair falling carefully across his forehead.

When he caught sight of you, he straightened, letting out a low whistle, playfully lowering his sunglasses, his slow gaze perusing you as you approached, as he said, “There’s the hottest doctor in the hospital.”

Laughing, you slapped his arm with your free hand, as he pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, grinning at you, his full lips pulled back over perfectly white teeth. “Stop it, babe. You’re embarrassing me.”

He held up a cup of coffee in his hand, as he winked at you and then said, “It’s true. Hey, I brought you coffee.” His eyes ran down your arm, to the already half finished coffee in your hand, and his face grew serious as he said coolly, “But, I see you already have some.”

“Oh, yeah.” You held up the cup to him apologetically, motioning over your shoulder down the hallway to where Jackson still stood at the other nurse’s desk. “I’m sorry, babe. Jackson and I were on the same shift today, and he knew I had a difficult patient earlier, so he brought me some coffee on our break.”

“Oh.” The word was flat, factual, as Jimin glanced over your shoulder and down the hallway to Jackson, his eyes piercing and dark and unreadable. Jakson, who must have noticed the stare, awkwardly waved a hand at the two of us, before looking down and fiddling with his coffee under the continued scrutiny.

“Babe.” You said, your tone slightly warning, the look on your husband’s face familiar, petty, passive aggressive. “Don’t.”

He looked back over to you, offering you a slight smile as he said, “What? I just want to talk to the male nurse. Jackson, was it?” He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, his stride determined as he walked down the hallway toward Jackson.

“Babe, please, no.” You hurried after him, your coffee, both of them, forgotten on the other desk in your desire to stop Jimin. You grasped his arm, trying to stop him, but he was a machine, only focused on the man before him who was quickly approaching.

Before you knew it, you had reached the desk, and you were left, watching, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ from behind Jimin as he offered a forced smile to your coworker, saying, “Hi, Jackson is it?”

The man glanced over at you, and then his eyes shifted to Jimin, who was incredibly intimidating, despite his shorter stature, and he offered him a smile as he said, his voice slightly nervous, “Um, yeah. And you must be Park Jimin? Dr. Park’s husband? I’ve heard a lot about you....”

“Yeah, let’s cut the small talk.” Your husband’s features went serious as he leaned against the desk next to the nurse, his eyes fiery, as he said, “Listen. I only have so many breaks during the day. And as you seem to know, so does my wife.” His full lips pressed into a straight, patronizing smile as he continued, his beautifully melodic voice cool, “So, I’d like to request that you don’t bring her coffee again. Because you see, that’s sort of my job, and I quite enjoy it. So if you could back off, that’d be great.”

Jackson’s surprised gaze flashed to you, over the shoulder of Jimin, your cheeks red, completely mortified, before he glanced back the man in front of him, and said, his hands up slightly as he backed away, “Yeah, no problem man. See you later.”

He rushed off, and you came around to take his place in front of Jimin, your hands on your hips as you regarded the man before you. “Okay, first off, he didn’t deserve that. Not in the slightest.” You stared at him for a moment, as he rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to defend himself. “No. I’m not done.” You cut him off, your tone still reprimanding, but you couldn’t stop the slight smile from crossing your face as you said quietly, “Secondly, I know I shouldn’t, but I find your petty passive aggressiveness extremely hot. So.” You raised an eyebrow at him, taking his hand in his as you checked the time on your watch. “I still have ten minutes left on my break. And I hear the new doctors’ lounge has a bed. Care to check it out with me?”

He grinned at you, his full lips pink against his tanned skin, before he said, “I would enjoy nothing more.”

KIM TAEHYUNG

“He’s doing great with the other dogs today!” You said, watching Yeontan fondly from across the park, where you were sitting on a bench, your hand twined with Tae’s.

“Yeah, well, he’s the smartest one here.” Your husband said, his tone filled with pride, as he watched the small fluffy dog yap and run around happily with the other dogs filling the dog park.

“You’re so soft.” You laughed out and leaned over to kiss his cheek, his attention still on the dog.

“Oh!’ You looked down as a large, black dog suddenly shoved its nose into your lap, its tongue lolling and its eyes bright as it looked up at you. Recognizing the dog, you exclaimed, starting to scratch it enthusiastically behind the ears, “Oh, hello Rolo! You scared me.” You glanced up, looking around the dog park as you mused, “Is your dad here then?”

“Hmm?” Tae hummed out, watching Yeontan still, his attention only half on what you were saying.

“Oh, nothing.” You stood from the bench, having caught sight of the man you were looking for. Putting a hand on Tae’s shoulder to get his attention, you said, “That’s one of my regular patients. I’m gonna go say hi and then I’ll be back okay?”

He nodded, and you didn’t know if he had fully heard you, as you said, “Come on Rolo!” The black dog, trotting at your heels, followed you across the dog park and to his owner. When you approached, you called out in a friendly tone, “Hey, Juyin! It’s good to see you!”

The man looked up as you called his name, and a grin spread across his face as you approached, his hand waving at you as he said, “Hey, doc. Good to see you! How you been?”

You laughed, crouching down beside him to give Rolo more pets as you looked up at him, saying in amusement, “Well, you know. About the same since I saw you two days ago.”

He crouched down beside you, fondling the big dogs ears before he said, slight worry crossing his face, “Yeah, I know we just came in. But Rolo’s breathing has sounded a bit funny to me since then. So I think I’ll make another appointment for Monday.”

You smiled, nodding, knowing that it was likely nothing, like usual, but willing to indulge him. “Yeah, okay, sounds great.”

Standing up, you offered him another smile, and Rolo one last pat, before you said, gesturing over your shoulder to where Tae was still sitting, “I’d better get back. But it was nice seeing you! See you both Monday.”

You started to walk away, waving over your shoulder as Juyin called out after you, “See you then, doc!”

Sitting back down beside Tae on the bench with a sigh, you pushed some strands of hair out of your eyes as you searched the park, located Yeontan, before saying, “How’s he doing?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Tae glanced over at you as you put your arm around his shoulders, before he said, “Who was that?”

You looked over at him, offering him a slight smile as you said, “Oh, one of my patients. You know how I told you about that guy that always brings his dog in for appointments, but there’s never anything wrong with him?” He nodded your head in the direction of Juyin. “That’s him.” You laughed, caught up in your explanation, not noticing the look of annoyance that had come across your husband’s features. “He’s basically a hypochondriac, but he pushes it off on his poor dog.”

“Or, he comes to the office so often because he wants to see a certain pretty vet.” Tae mumbled out under his breath, not looking at you.

‘What?” You said, surprise filling your voice, as you shifted on the bench to stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged, as Yeontan ran over to him, depositing a stick at his feet. Pausing to reach down and throw the stick for the dog, he continued. “It just seemed like you guys were pretty friendly.”

“Tae.” You suppressed a smile, as you reached out for his chin, forcing him to look at you as you said seriously, “I’m his dog’s vet. It’s necessary for me to be friendly with patients.” You let your grin slip through. “But you and I both know that you’re the only human I actually like. And that’s never going to change.”

He watched you for a moment, gauging your sincerity, and then his boxy grin broke through his features, as he chuckled and took your hand, saying, “Yeah, dogs are better than people.”

“Damn straight.” You said, as you retrieved Yeontan’s stick and threw it once again.

JEON JUNGKOOK

You sat in the empty stadium, your feet kicked up onto the chair in front of you, a notepad held in your lap and a pen poised in your hand.

On stage, your boyfriend was running through his solo number, working out the final kinks in the choreography, finishing sound check, readying himself for the show later that evening. He had asked you to watch and take notes on anything that didn’t look right from the audience’s perspective.

So here you were, dutifully note taking, silently admiring his dedication and power on stage, not to mention had good his hot body looked in that suit, his sweaty hair falling into his eyes, perspiration glinting on his tan skin in a way that made you lose your breath.

“Oh, hey!”

You glanced up, a voice breaking through your concentration, though you had to admit, in that moment you had been concentrating more on controlling yourself, and less on your boyfriend’s performance. Slightly flustered, caught off guard, red crept across your cheeks as you said, “Oh, hi.”

The young man, a grin spread across his features, sat down in the empty seat beside you and glanced over at the stage, where Jungkook had grown still, listening to some feedback through his earpiece from the directors. “He’s really amazing, huh?” He said, awe in his tone as he stared at your boyfriend.

“Um, yeah.” You said, glancing back down at your notes, wondering who this kid was and why he was here.

“Oh, sorry!” As if he had heard your thoughts, he stuck out a hand, saying pleasantly, “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Soowin. One of the new trainees. The producer suggested it might be beneficial for me to watch someone as great as Jungkook-hyung practice.”

You glanced over at him again, his features overly enthusiastic, and then took his hand after a brief moment of hesitation, saying, “I’m (Y/N).”

He nodded, shaking your hand vigoursly, as he said, “Oh, I know. You’re Jungkook-hyung’s girlfriend. I’ve seen you around BigHIt. You’re pretty.” He grinned at you, and you felt the blush come back at his innocent praise.

“Thank you?” You said, slightly caught off guard by the fact that you liked how friendly this kid was.

“Also. Are you around the studio so much because of Jungkook? Or do you work there too?” He continued, glancing over at your boyfriend again as he ran through the routinue once more.

“Oh, no.” You laughed slightly, waving a hand at him. “I’m not just there because of Jungkook. I work at BigHit.” You grinned at the look of surprise on his face. “I”m actually one of the dance instructors.” You pointed your pen at the moves Jungkook as running through on stage, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially to him, “I actually blocked this entire number if you can believe it.”

“No way!” His eyes got big, and he leaned closer to you, gripping your arm in tight fingers as he said, eyes sparkling with excitement, “Would you be able to block one of my numbers some day?”

I laughed again. His innocence and excitement were contagious. “I dunno. Maybe. I’ll try my best, okay?”

He nodded again, opening his mouth to say something else, but before he could, your conversation was interrupted by Jungkook’s voice, loud as it came over his mic, “Hey, (Y/N). Can I see you for a minute backstage?”

You glanced over at him, his hands on his hips, his dark eyes flashing beneath his sweat drenched bangs, and nodded, standing up before you said to Soowin, “It was nice chatting. I’ll see you around.”

Hurrying to follow after Jungkook, who had already went off stage, you found him in the dark area behind the curtains, one of the staff fixing his mic pack, another messing with his hair. He regarded you with dark eyes, his lips pulled into a frown, as he said testily, “You’re supposed to be taking notes. Not talking with some trainee.”

Your mouth dropped open at his sharp words, and you felt anger build in your chest as you snapped back, “I did take notes. See?” You held up the notepad, filled with writing for him to see, and then slammed it down on the makeup table as you hissed out, “But maybe I should add another one. ‘Jungkook is an ass.’”

The staff had left, leaving the two of you alone at this point, as he took a step toward you, his eyes flashing, running an agitated hand through his just styled hair, as he growled out, “You guys seemed awfully friendly. Why don’t you go to his performance instead?”

“Holy shit, Kook. This is ridiculous.” You threw your hands up in the air, exasperated at his attitude and this fight. This was stupid. “You know I love you. Only you. That’s why I’m spending my Saturday here, with you, taking dumb notes, when I could be in bed!” You locked stares with him, both of your gazes hard, as you said, “You are such a jackass.”

He regarded you, silently, his lips still pursed into a thin line, and then suddenly, catching you off guard, he closed the distance between you, his lips on yours, hot, needy, rough. His teeth nipped your bottom lip, as he pressed you back against the table behind you, scattering makeup product on the floor, as his tongue slipped between your parted lips, making you let out a moan as he caressed the inside of your mouth.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over,

He pulled back from you, both of your gasping for breath, his hands still on either side of your body, caging you in, and as you licked your lips, still in shock at his actions, he murmured out, his voice low, intense, his eyes molten on yours, “You’re mine. Get it?”

You nodded, and he released you, stepping back and smoothing his hair, as you said, slightly breathlessly, “You’re still an ass. And I’ll talk to whoever I want. But.” You swallowed, hard, the feel of his lips on your still imprinted on your brain. “I’m yours, Jeon Jungkook. Always and forever.”

He grinned at you then, tapping his temple with his index finger, as he said playfully, “Good. Now, get back to taking notes.”

Grumbling under your breath, you picked up the notepad again, following him back on stage, a slight smile slipping across your lips before you could stop it.

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missfay49 · 3 years

Text

Session 1b - I’d Rather Not

This is a retelling, not a transcription.

Word count: ~2,100

Relationships: platonic Moceit

Warnings (may contain spoilers): space, aliens, alien planet, fighting, cursing, disease, venom, exhaustion, mind-control, blood, hostile wildlife (request more tags if needed)

AO3

Last Chapter Next Chapter

******************

“Thanks, Janus.”

Janus’ face twists into a cold focus. He grabs his pistol and starts firing careful, timed bursts and the other fighters still in control of themselves do the same. The vracinea makes no sounds when their shots hit, but its latex sap starts pouring from the wounds and its vines become frantic. They all desperately hope that means it’s dying.

A particularly large electrical blast from the android seems to knock the large Lashunta loose, because they gasp and start running. The creature gives chase but five of them are shooting it now and before it can attack again its smoking corpse falls with a strange flutter and a crunch.

The human walks up and spits on it before sitting hard on the ground.

“I am so done with nature,” says the android. Someone grunts in agreement.

Only a few seconds pass before the smaller Lashunta is shaking their head and backing away from the foliage in disgust. No one says anything to them. Janus gives them a questioning look, still catching his breath, but they just blink a few times and join the rough circle of people that has formed to rest.

“Thank you for not letting me die,” Janus says to no one in particular. He touches the scratches on his neck lightly, wincing.

“You’re welcome,” says the small Lashunta.

“I would not wish that fate on anyone,” adds the android. “To be eaten by a plant… pitiful.”

Janus looks at each of them in turn, these new companions of his. The human catches his eye and stares back for a moment, squinting hard at him. Janus’ lips twitch in an aborted smile and he lets his gaze slide away to the next person.

The large Lashunta and the android are studying the plant together. The android narrates their findings.

“The plant was not originally part of the structure’s design.”

“Oh, was it not? I would never have guessed.” The human scoffed, leaning theirself back against a fallen tree. The android continues as if nothing was said.

“This obelisk was a watchtower. Non-magical. Sargorssk, would you?” The android looks at the Vesk and gestures. They- Sargorssk- seems to know just what to do and draws their sword again to start hacking the remaining vines from the structure. Once the surface is revealed, the android starts up again.

“There is ancient elven script here. “Warning. You are approaching Loskialua, monastery of starsong, embassy of the spheres, and Temple of the Twelve. Messengers and other visitors pay respect to the beyond.” It says something about purity of the mind.”

“So, we should think pure thoughts?” asks the large Lashunta.

“Indeed,” the android confirms. “I suggest you think about soap.”

A few feet away, Janus is struggling with his med kit. He knows it’s in here, he just can’t think right now through all the pains shouting at him. He startles when the small Lashunta appears beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Janus makes to remove it, but a warmth blossoms from the touch and travels up and around his neck. The cuts around his throat and head tingle and disappear. It lasts only a few seconds, and then the Lashunta gives him a smile and pulls away. Their hands part and Janus realizes he had been holding onto them throughout. He stares as they walk back to their travel pack and sit.

“Oh, we’re keeping that one,” he decides.

~~~

The group keeps moving. The kaukarikis glower at the survivors walking through their territory. They drop rocks on the group when they aren’t looking, but always retreat when confronted. They’re just trying to be irritating.

They make camp when the sun sets and the android strikes up conversation.

“How did you survive before…?”

“Things were a lot quieter before you came around. Y’all are bad luck.” Janus smirks. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever had here!”

“That may be true,” Sargorssk chuckles. “Are you sure you want to travel with us?”

“Well…” he draws it out just long enough to make everyone laugh. When it dies down, his back is to them and he’s setting up his sleeping bag without a word.

The next morning sees another day of travel. The infernal kaukarikis keep trailing the group, a hostile presence ever at their back. Janus sidles up to the android.

“What’s your mission, anyway?” He asks.

“We’re rescuing a kidnapped scientist,” they reply. The large Lashunta nods.

“How very heroic!”

“What’s yours?” The android’s eyes look through him.

“Cataloging species and their populations, but I’m more than happy to help rescue a fellow scientist! It’s hard out here, we’ve got to look out for each other,” says Janus.

“You’re welcome to stick with us as long as you like,” says the Vesk.

“Yes,” says the android. “We could use the firepower.”

The day after that they encounter a creature called a ksarik. A grey-ish-green four-legged creature with a tail and tentacles that twitch back and forth like a cat. Everyone’s guns are raised when that thing tops the hill. It disappears into the foliage, leaving only tension behind.

It appears again and again throughout the day, sometimes behind, sometimes to one side or the other. Sometimes it moves impossible fast.

“Are there now two?” asks the android.

“Maybe so,” says the small Lashunta. “They hunt in packs.”

On the fourth sighting, it doesn't run away again. Instead it walks up to them, examining them, quivering with interest. Probing. It gurgles. Janus is taking notes with great interest.

“Domash,” asks the android. “Can you speak to this thing?”

The small Lashunta, Domash, squints for a moment.

“Yes, actually, it’s a type of fungus. Don’t know how I forgot that!” They laugh at theirself, stepping forward just a bit.

“Why here? What want? Me friend.”

“Want... Host...”

It launches a projectile a hundred feet across the field straight at the android.

A scream, a metallic screeching, and the android staggers. A thorn is protruding from their shoulder, the panel cracked.

The human takes aim and fires, the rest of the group following suit. All but the large Lashunta. They look around the field. There! Another creature, coming up on their flank. Thorns fly from it as well, sinking into the Lashunta’s leg. Then they flee.

“What the fuck? Where are they going?” asks the human. Domash looks at them, alarmed.

“Their shots hit. They think that all they have to do now is wait us out. The spores…” They look at their companion ripping the thorns out of their leg.

“We have to keep moving.”

Several times throughout the day, the creatures return to check on them, to fire more thorns. No matter how many times they get shot, they flee only to return without a trace of damage. The android tries to give chase, but they evolved within this jungle. It’s impossible.

Janus tends to the large Lashunta’s wounds that night at camp. It’s unclear if he’s helped, but they seem in higher spirits the next morning.

Another day, another several hours of being followed by kaukarikis, hunted by ksariks, and by the end of it Sargorssk and Janus have both been infected as well. The other human lowers their gun after the fleeing creature and eyes Janus’ wounded arm.

“Oh, no, not our long-time field medic pal…” they deadpan. Janus glares in return.

~~~

“Y’all know where you’re going, right?” Janus asks on the fifth day of travel.

The android stops in their tracks.

“What gives?”

A body is laying on the ground ahead. Janus looks for signs of movement.

“It’s one of the cultists,” the android explains. “One of the kidnappers.” The human already has a gun raised.

The android steps closer, and the cultist sees them and screams.

“Devourer, stop this pain! I am ready for you!" They pull out a gun but their arm cannot lift it to shoot. Zin moves closer to the bulky Lashunta cultist, examining their wounds. The human joins them, restraining the person. It hardly seems necessary.

“They will not last much longer.”

“When did this happen?” Domash approaches to question them. They can only mumble, barely coherent.

“Time is… what? I…”

“Should we, I don’t know, help them?” Janus gestures vaguely. The human is patting them down for any more weapons.

“Or,” they pull out an incendiary grenade out of the person’s bag. “We could kill ‘em.”

The android gently lifts the cultist’s head to place on their lap. They speak calmly.

“You heard the man, tell us what you know or we’ll kill you.”

“I’m as good as dead already.” The hostage’s eyes dart around, landing on Domash.

“Wait, are you a healer? Can you help me?! Please! I’ll tell you anything!” They gasp.

Domash kneels, beginning to cast a spell of healing over them as the android begins a line of questioning. The human backs up and mutters to Janus.

“We should just feed ‘em the grenade before those spores bust out. This is a waste of time, bet.”

Janus briefly appreciates that Pat isn’t listening to this.

An hour later, the android leaves the cultist’s side.

“Here’s what we know. She is from the Cult of the Devourer. There’s no reliable information about the cult on the database. Her leader is a man named Tommen. The scientist was with them, but the group left her behind when she was infected by the ksariks. There are a dozen more members guarding the scientist.”

“Are we gonna heal her just to have to lug around a prisoner?” The human asks.

“We don’t have to take her with us,” says Sargorssk.

“Then why is Domash wasting its magic- hey!” The human grunts as the android grabs them.

“They’re back. There are more now.”

~~~

Pistols and laser fire explode over the clearing. Janus ducks behind the large Lashunta, patting them on the back.

“Go get ‘em, champ!”

“Hey, yeah,” they don’t dare take their eyes off the targets. “That’s inspiring and all, but maybe you could actually do something?”

“Ah, yes.” Janus pulls out his pistol and fires two shots, each one missing wide. The Lashunta blinks.

“Never mind.”

The fight ends when Sargorssk throws a grenade at a ksarik, causing the last hostile fungus to erupt and douse everyone nearby with spongy viscera. The large Lashunta scrubs their face and throws a piece on the ground, stomping it into the dirt. Domash helps the android knock a panel back into place and the rest of them stand there panting, covered in goo.

“It’s in my hair.” Janus mutters. Somewhere behind them, the cultist groans.

~~~

Cleaning themselves up a few minutes later, Domash slaps Janus on the back and smiles.

“Well, you lived this long, maybe it’s time we made formal introductions?”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Janus leans toward it. “I waited so long I thought I’d missed my chance. I’m Patton Nufunder. You can call me Pat-iyo.”

“Like the furniture?”

“Never heard that one before.” Janus quips.

“I’m just teasing. Domash-eyin. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Sargorssk-iye Vint.” The Vesk walks up to him showing far too many teeth.

“I am called Zin-eya,” says the android. Right behind her the large Lashunta waves.

“I’m Veritae-ya Vyon!”

There’s a silence, followed by everyone looking over to their human companion. The one that’s been with them all along. They sense the eyes on them and stop polishing their weapon to look up.

“Don’t refer to me.”

“Okay, then.”

“Just do me a favor, eh?” The human asks him. “Don’t die. Fair?”

“Fair.” Janus nods. Sargorssk pulls him aside.

“The point is, Pat, we’re gonna be in danger for a while. Not sure you want to stay with us.”

Janus mentally pokes the sleeping Patton in their mind. He doesn’t stir. To be honest, I’m not sure either, but right now this body is sick, probably got a couple infections, and traveling alone like this is somehow still more deadly than sticking with you lot.

“Don’t worry about me, Sarg. I‘ll be fine.” Janus shrugs him off.

“Well, then, welcome aboard! Maybe you’ll actually get to see our ship at some point.”

A scratchy signal coming out of Zin’s head interrupts them. She’s playing a live message from someone.

“I’ve made it across t-- ravine. What --- ---- -- with these monkeys? There’s dead monkeys all ova’ the place. Why are they tryna kill me?”

“They started it,” she replies in a neutral tone.

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#starfinder #patton #patton nufunder #janus #janus 358 #sanders sides #aliens #space #fighting #blood #injuries #cursing #disease #venom #cultists #mind control #missFay #my writing #a series of mistakes

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scaredofthebasement-blog · 5 years

Text

When Love Walks In - Chpt 20

Chpt 20 – Alex Calls Out Auston for his Playboy Ways and They Have a Heart to Heart

(Please note that I made a few major edits.)

Words 4971

Alex pulls up the chair to sit next to her brother on his left-hand bedside. She has to laugh when Auston raises his eyebrows at her, perplexed by why she’s fussing; inching her chair closer and closer to him.

“What?! I’m just trying to get as close to you as possible without actually getting in the bed with you. I don’t want anyone to hear what I’m saying”, She explains recognizing how silly it appears.

Auston shakes his head, thinking, So much drama. Frig! It’s like my life’s become a freakin’ soap opera.

Alex leans into Auston and whispers, “Oz! Hey!”

He turns toward her all dramatic-like as if he’s in a soap opera and mouths, Whaaa?

“Would you care to explain to me what the heck you’ve been doing? Frig, I leave you alone for a few hours, and you’re pouring on the charm for BOTH of your doctors?! Please don’t tell me you’re making moves on them. Have you fallen for Dr Wright too?”

Auston rolls his eyes dramatically and writes, “NO!!!!!”

Then what happened when I was gone that made her so…uhm…I don’t know, different?

“I was drawing emojis.”

“Okay? And...?”

He quickly draws, Mic Drop, No Clue and Bored Out of My Mind.

Oh! Alright, then. Those ARE pretty funny. I forgot you know how to do those. Ha! I love that ‘Bored’ one best. Funny! Good for you Oz! They both deserve a good laugh.”

Auston agrees, writing, “Yeah, it was fun watching Dr Wright’s reaction. Never seen her like that. She’s usually so serious. Very kind, great at her job, but she can be pretty intense. So it was a rush watching her walls come down.”

“Not to mention she’s pretty beautiful. Am I right? Huh? Auston?” She pokes.

“I’m not interested in her at all!” Auston writes in frustration.

“Okay! Sorry! Take a chill pill. But don’t try and tell me you’re not interested in Dr Quinn, cause I’m not an idiot.”

Auston blushes and rolls his eyes at her as he writes sarcastically, “Yeah, you got me, Detective. You should work for the NYPD, Alex.”

“Thanks. I’ll look into that. Law and Order, Special Doofus Unit”, She jokes.

Auston has to laugh at that one. He writes with a smirk, “Clever, I’ll give you that.”

Alex laughs, proud of herself for impressing her brother.

“Did Dr Quinn like your emojis too, Auston?” She teases.

Auston rolls his eyes. “As a matter of fact, Dr Q has seen me draw them before. She thought they were pretty funny. I now use them to tease her. She pretends to not be amused, which as far as I’m concerned adds to my amusement. They were both fun to watch cause it took them by surprise.”

“Yeah, I don’t imagine many patients can draw like that or would draw emojis for their doctors”, Alex laughs at the idea.

Auston adds, “I wish you were here to see it. BTW why were you so late coming this morning? You missed a lot of information, and now Dr Q’s going to have to repeat it all. But I suppose that’ll make her stay longer today, so I guess a ‘thanks’ is in order.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, Auston, I was finishing up that lovely job you gave me”, Alex says with disdain.

“Oh...”, Auston writes, pursing his mouth, regretting he even asked. He’s cautious as he detects annoyance in her voice. He thinks, Oh, Oh. This ain't gonna be good.

“Yes! I finally got through all your freakin’ social media, and you actually owe me TWO HUGE-ASS MANSIONS, definitely some KICK-ASS THERAPY and a month at a FULL-SERVICE SPA. Shit, Auston! You’re a dirty boy!” She speaks quietly but with a harsh tone.

“Yeah, I know”, he writes sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, Alex. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you might see on my phone, and I’m actually very embarrassed. I don’t like thinking about that ‘old me’, cause I’m not that person anymore.”

“Since when? And why?” Alex asks.

“Since being in here. I’ve had time to reflect and can see that I got caught up in an exciting playboy lifestyle that worked for my need to be selfish in order to pursue my career goals. But I don’t want that life anymore and I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

“Oh?” Alex questions.

“I want to be in a committed and mature relationship with Dr Quinn, even if I have to sacrifice some time spent on my career goals. I want Quinn. I want a relationship of substance with Quinn. I want a ‘normalish’ life with Quinn.”

Alex unloads, “Well, I’m very glad that you have resolved to change your ways, Auston, cause I had a whole lecture that I was gonna throw at you just now. I’ll spare you most of it but need you to know this: I love you dearly, but I won’t permit you to subject Dr Quinn to any of that cheap-ass shit you were engaged in with other women prior to your accident. If you even consider pursuing it with her, I’ll talk to Mom and Dad, and I’ll warn Dr Quinn. She deserves THE VERY BEST man in her life and from what my eyes witnessed, sorting through your texts and such, YOU have been VERY far from ‘BEST’; more-like, ‘Best Asshole’. I know why you initially went the route of being a ‘player’, ‘wheeler’, ‘hooking up,’ whatever you want to call it. I get it. It made sense back then. But that’s a life of absolute zero substance and completely shallow. Dr Quinn deserves substance and frankly at this point in your life, so do you.”

“I know! Trust me! I know that now!” Auston pleads.

“I really hope you do, Oz. You’re an amazing guy. You have so much to offer a woman and a relationship, and it would be a real waste if you keep up those shallow ways just because you live life in the fast lane. It’s time to move on and be a real man.”

“Alex. I get it. You’re 1000% right, and you don’t have to talk to Mom, Dad or Quinn because I can assure you, I am not the same person I was before my accident.”

“Go ahead, Auston. I’m listening…or reading, I should say.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if it’s because I almost died or because I finally took a beat to reflect but I’ve realized I’ve become a man in the last few years. Or maybe Quinn has made me want to be a better man to be with her? It could be a combination of all three. But I can assure you, every cell in my body wants to be the very best man that I can for her. To me, she is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She thrills me. I can’t get enough of her. She means everything to me. I want to bring the same amount of joy to her as she brings to me”, He rationalizes.

“Okay. Good. And, Wow Oz! I really want to believe you will change, but it’s hard to break bad habits.”

Auston is determined to convince Alex he’s changed. “Let me put it this way, if I find out that someone with the ‘old me agenda’ is, or has moved on Quinn, (and I honestly can’t even let myself consider that possibility because it’s too upsetting), after I’m done taking care of that asshat, he will be in desperate need of another doctor. Do you get my drift? I know how I was, and I will never be that way again. I won’t tolerate anyone treating Quinn like a consumable, let alone me.”

“Okay, Oz, but please don’t go doing anything stupid to anyone. I’m very glad that you see the light”, Alex warns.

“Alex, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before Quinn. I’m absolutely bat-shit crazy about her. It’s like she’s heroin and I’m addicted. I’m a puddle when she’s around and a wreck when she’s not. I’m embarrassed to tell you that with the very best of intentions, I have done some desperate shit to get her to spend time with me.”

“No! Auston! What desperate shit did you do?” Alex panics.

“Well, for one thing, I almost died; but first I made her cry”, Auston confesses.

“What?! The hell?! Oz! What are you talking about you almost died? Again?! And you made Dr Quinn cry?! Are you crazy?!”

“Yes, Alex, I am crazy! Apparently, certifiable! I’m sorry to say; I did both. I was completely distraught after not seeing Quinn all last week. Then yesterday, she made it seem like she was going to be too busy to see me much this week, and it’s my last week here! Plus she started dating a fucking doctor-god last week! I call him Dr McDreamy cause from what I can gather from my research; he’s all that and then some.”

“Oh, no! Really?”

“Frig! It pisses me off royally! Quinn hasn’t dated since dinosaurs last roamed the earth, but she decides to take up with a fucking doctor when I arrive on the scene”, Auston laments.

“Oh, boy! That’s not good”, Alex reasons.

“Yeah, and BTW, Alex, you’re comments are not helping.�� Auston points out, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry! But neither are yours! ‘Almost died’ and ‘made my doctor cry’. Shit! What a freaking mess, Auston! What did you do? Specifically!” Alex snaps back.

“I made her upset by making her think I doubted her promise to be there for me for the rest of my recovery. I also accused her of abandoning me last week”, Auston confesses.

“Auston! No!” Alex freaks.

“Yes!” He takes in a deep breath and sighs. “Oh God, Alex! I know! I’m such a mess! But I needed to remind her of her purpose for being a doctor in the first place - to be there for her patients. You know? For people like Josh. So she’d be there for me.”

“Oh Auston, that’s some off-base shit right there. She IS there for her patients! She’s been incredibly dedicated to you! To Mom, Dad, Bre and Me. 24 freaking 7, Auston! Last week, she didn’t even know you were struggling cause Dr Wright didn’t tell her. She had a medical conference to attend, and she had meetings. She checked up on you every day with Dr Wright. And tell me you did NOT bring up Josh’s name. Did you?!”

“No! I could never be that cruel! I know she’s been there for me. I just wanted her to come around this week so we could develop a relationship. Otherwise, she was going to be spread too thin. I needed to make sure I got a chance to find my way into her heart”, Auston explains as his heart pounds and his blood pressure rises.

“I know, but still, that was selfish and entitled behaviour, Auston”, Alex lashes out.

“I know it seems that way. I just didn’t feel like I had any other option since I go home next week. I saw a chance, and I took it. It devasted me to hurt her like that, and I ended up getting so upset that I choked on my congestion. I couldn’t breathe, so she had to suction me. It was scary as hell, Alex”, Auston tries to make her understand.

“Auston! Oh, my God! I don’t even know what to say right now”, Alex blurts out in frustration.

As Alex sorts through all the information Auston has spilt on her, Auston sits, staring down at his hands, feeling anguish; conflicted and berating himself for being selfish.

After what seems like forever of nothing, Alex blurts out, “Not cool, Oz! So not cool! Frig! What if Mom and Dad find out?”

Auston nods in agreement and immediately falls apart. He is distraught. Tears start to flow down his face.

He starts coughing.

Oh shit, here I go again!

Alex sees what’s happening and tries to do damage control. She jumps up from her chair and pulls Auston into her arms. Alex whispers in his ear as she rubs his back to comfort him. She knows she was too hard on him in his vulnerable condition. She’s upset with herself.

Alex desperately attempts to calm him, “Hey, Hey, Hey! Oz! Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m sorry for being so harsh. You’ve been through so much. My words were severe. No one knows what it’s like to walk in your shoes. But I can understand. When I think about it, I absolutely understand. No need to cry, Oz. I completely understand why you did what you did. You were desperate. I get it. Anyone in your situation would feel the need to do what you did. It’s all good now. Dr Quinn’s good. You saw her earlier this morning. She seemed really good. Please calm yourself down, so you don’t choke. Please, Oz. Get yourself together, okay? I support you. I want what you want. I want her for you too. It was worth it, Oz. I can see that. What other choice did you have? Please suck it up, Oz. Swallow. Take relaxing breaths. Okay?” She pulls away to let him catch his breath and reaches for tissues to try to dry his face. He grabs hold of her arm so she won’t leave him.

Auston continues to cough. He swallows. He keeps coughing. He keeps swallowing. He squirms as he tries to gain control and feels like if given a bit more time, he will be okay. But when he starts to choke and wheeze, Alex sounds the alarm.

“Jacqui! Nurse! Doctor! Auston’s choking! Help! Hurry!” She yells.

Auston is disappointed. He really thought he could get it under control without the need for the Suction. He wants to be able to master his secretions.

Jacqui is at Auston’s side in seconds. She assesses the situation and grabs the Suction as Alex tries to move out of the way as best she can with Auston’s death grip on her arm.

Auston extends his free hand out in front of him to signal for Jacqui to stop and shakes his head ‘no’. He wants more time. ‘No suction yet’ is his clear message.

Jacqui stands down, watching as Auston continues to cough and wheeze. They both encourage him to relax, focus on drawing in breath and coughing.

It takes about 30 seconds until Auston has caught his breath; for all three of them, it feels like an eternity.

Jacqui tells him she’ll stay in the room until he feels confident that he’s got things under control.

“What brought that on?” She asks Alex.

“He was upset about something we were talking about”, Alex explains.

“Oh, I see. Well, maybe you could change the subject to something a little cheerier. But at the same time, getting upset is bound to happen, and this is a great opportunity to learn how to manage the secretions – which you did! You actually did great Auston! Really impressive; you managed to stay calm, and you fought through it. You’re showing great progress, and that’s what this week is about”, Jacqui points out.

Auston nods with a smile. He is happy with what he just did there.

“You okay now, Auston?” Jacqui asks.

Auston nods and gives a smile and thumbs up.

“Then can I have my arm back bro?” Alex begs with a relieved giggle.

Auston lets go of Alex’s arm and holds out his hand for some tissues to wipe his face.

So since you feel comfortable now, I can step out and leave you two alone for a few more minutes as it’s almost time for Dr Quinn to come and oversee the 11 am procedures. Great job, Auston! You too Alex!”

Auston gives Jacqui the thumbs up, and mouths ‘thank you.’

“Yes, thank you so much, Jacqui!” Alex calls out.

Auston grabs the board and marker that Alex picks up off the floor for him. He writes, “Thanks, Alex. Sorry you had to see that. It’s scary when it happens, but I felt confident that I had it under control.”

“Ha! Yeah, Bam Bam, you’re vulture grip on my arm made me feel really confident too”, She teases. “Seriously though, it’s upsetting but you did a great job and I’m sorry I distressed you.”

Auston writes, “It’s ok. I know Dr Quinn will be here shortly so I want to tell you privately, that it may sound bad, but I’m glad I did what I did because I got Quinn to commit to coming to see me every day this week for Talk Therapy.”

“I thought she already was doing Therapy with you? You told Mom and Dad that she was.”

“Yeah, I know. I lied about that. Please don’t tell Mom and Dad! I just needed them to leave me alone with Dr Quinn, but they wouldn’t let go of the therapy issue. I told you, Alex, she’s like an addiction! I would do anything to be alone with her. I needed a chance for her to get to know me.”

“I understand why you can’t tell Dr Quinn how you feel right now. She’d have to stop being your doctor. She would never abuse or risk her position by allowing an obvious attraction. You can’t go losing her as your doctor. You need to be careful.”

“Exactly! I want Dr Quinn to work with me cause she’s the only one who could possibly resurrect my voice. The good thing is she wants to work with me cause I represent her ‘dead boyfriend’ and winning the ‘Stanley Cup’.”

“Auston! Hold the phone! Surprisingly, I get the reference to ‘her dead boyfriend,’ being Josh, but you’ve lost me at ‘winning the Stanley Cup’?! What the hell are you talking about?!”

“She told me that for her, saving my life was like making the Cup Finals and that restoring my voice would be like winning the Stanley Cup.”

Alex points out, “Well, if anyone could relate to an analogy like that it would be you.”

“I know, right?! And how can I deny her the chance to win a ‘Stanley Cup’?” He jokes.

“Ha! Yeah, you’re so selfless, Auston”, Alex mocks.

“Yeah, I know. So now we’re playing games. I’m playing ‘Avoid the Danger Zone’, and she’s playing, ‘Ignore the Elephant in the Room.’

“Neither sound very fun, Oz.” Alex adds, dryly.

“Honestly Alex, worst games ever! I’m pretty sure I’m losing my game, where I try to hide how I feel about her, so she doesn’t have to stop being my doctor. But I’m making out okay so far because she’s acing her game; where she absolutely refuses to acknowledge to herself that I’m interested in her.”

“Do you really think she knows how you feel about her?” Alex asks.

“Yeah. I think she must have picked up on some clues; subconsciously anyway. She’s brilliant so I don’t know how she could miss them. But she’s also either really good at making it look like she doesn’t know or in fact doesn’t know. I’m at a loss, really.”

“Do you think she likes you?” Alex asks.

“Well, yesterday, she accidentally told me that she liked me”, Auston reveals with a blush.

“What?!” Alex gasps, excitedly.

“Yeah. Dr Quinn let it slip in a conversation saying, ‘so that’s why I like you so much’”, Auston can’t help but smile.

“No way!” Alex freaks.

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised!” Auston jokes.

“Ha! Sorry! I’m just really happy for you. What did YOU say?” Alex asks.

“I teased her in a light, friend-like way, cause I don’t want to force her hand. But it could be that’s how she meant it. I’m not quite sure if she’s interested in me as more than a friend or just someone that thinks, ‘I’m a wonderful person’”, Auston explains.

“She said ‘you’re a wonderful person?!’” Alex jumps.

“Yeah. But I swear if you’d been there, you wouldn’t know how to take it. She brushed it off as something anyone would think if they knew me. Honestly, Alex, it all seems like a mind game that I’m sure she doesn’t even know she’s playing. She just won’t go there; won’t let herself acknowledge it.”

“Cause then she’d have to do something about it. Right? She’s smart”, Alex reasons.

“Yup. That she is for sure and very stubborn about pursuing her goals.”

“Sounds like someone else I know”, Alex points out.

“Huh? I’m not stubborn like Quinn”, Auston denies.

“Oh, you think? You’re kidding, right?” Alex calls him out.

Auston considers the idea and then concedes, “Yeah. You’re probably right. Ha! I suppose we are similar in that. We’re like dogs with a bone.”

“Probably one of the reasons why you like her so much”, Alex guesses.

“Love”, Auston corrects her.

“Oh, sorry. “Love” her so much”, Alex exaggerates, rolling her eyes but secretly thrilled.

“Got to call it what it is, Sis. I’ve never been in love before so when you’re in it, it’s a big deal”, Auston informs her.

“But she’s dating, huh? That’s a big problem, Oz”, Alex points out.

“Yeah. I’m assuming this Doctor McDreamy’s my direct competition. So that’s what forced me to challenge her; so I could set up another game that I’m calling, ‘Day by Freaking Day’.

“Wow! Oz! Worst game title ever!” Alex blurts out.

“Ha! Yeah, I know, right!” Auston admits.

“So how do you play?”

“Well, as the name implies, I spend time with Dr Quinn during the day, let her get to know me and hopefully endear myself to her. Then she goes out with Doc McStuffins at night, and she realizes she likes me better. That’s the only chance I have. So every moment I have with her this week is precious.”

“Ha! Oz?” Alex questions.

Auston looks at her curious, Huh?

Doc McStuffins is a girl”, Alex giggles.

Auston laughs to himself, writing, “Oh. Ha! Well, let’s hope Dr Peters is a girl. That would help my cause.”

“Or complicate it?” Alex jokes.

“Yeah! Ha! I suppose so.” He chuckles.

Oh! Before Quinn comes back, I want to ask you for another favour. I want to get her a special gift to thank her for everything she’s done for me.”

“Awww. Sweet!”

“I’ll get something for the others as well, but I want to get something extra special for Quinn, and it will need sourcing.”

“Okay?”

“You’ll need to go see the Jeweller that we use in Yorkville. Get him to source out the items cause there is no way he’ll have them. No restriction on price but don’t tell him that. Get him to text me what he finds and the cost.”

“Sure. What are you thinking?” Alex asks.

“If you look in my bedside table you’ll find a piece of paper where I’ve listed specifically what I want. The sooner you can get them, the better, but I understand if it might take a bit.”

“Okay”, curious, Alex heads over to the other side of Auston’s bed to get the paper. She pulls out the note and reads it. A smile washes across her face. “Wow, Auston! Looks like you put a lot of thought into this. You’re a real sweetheart. She’s gonna love them.”

“Good! I want the gift to touch her heart.” Auston smiles, pleased with himself and excited for the day that he can give them to her.

“Thanks a lot for looking after this and me. You’re a saint!” Auston gushes.

Alex acknowledges Auston’s gratitude with a smile. She puts the slip of paper in her purse and pulls out Auston’s cell phone and places it on his bedside table.

“I almost forgot! Here’s your cell phone, Oz. I did up a blurb for your social media accounts. I texted it to you. You’ll need to review it, make any changes you want and send it to Judd for approval.”

“Oh, wow! Thanks, Alex! Great! I really appreciate everything you have done for me. I think I’ll keep you around.”

“Well, after your social media crap, I think I’m retiring as your sister”, Alex teases.

“Ha! Sorry. But I need my big sister. You’re stuck with your dumbass little brother forever.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it. All joking aside though, I also got distracted and forgot to tell you, there are a couple girls texting you that seem to think you were about to make things serious before your accident.”

“What? No! Who? Names?” Auston writes, clearly upset.

“A ‘Bridget’ and a ‘Chantelle’. Were you going to ask them to be exclusive?”

“Hell No! I specifically made it my practice that prior to each hookup, they understood and agreed there would be no strings. I learned that lesson the hard way and you know that.”

“Yes. Well, they both appear to have magically changed their minds and they are very concerned about you since your accident and want to be here for you.”

“Together?!” Auston imagines what that would look like.

“No, not together, Dum Dum! But they both indicated in their texts that they have come to the hospital trying to get in to see you; each saying she is your girlfriend. But security stopped them cause they weren’t on the list.”

“Oh shit! Can’t you just tell them I died?” He writes, half-joking.

“Auston, you need to text Judd and get his advice on how to say adios to these women. Can you do that in the next few days? Or do you want me to call him and I’ll just tell him there has been a misunderstanding and you’re not interested in pursuing any type of relationship?”

“Yeah, can you do the second one you mentioned? Please. I don’t have the energy and I trust you can deal with it based on how you helped me a few years back with Rebecca”, Auston begs.

“Sure. Hopefully, these ones will go quietly into the night.”

“Thanks, Alex. Keep me in the loop. They were fun and beautiful women but I’m not interested.”

“Oz, you’ll also need to wrap up your old life with all your hookups. You’ll need to tell them all goodbye”, Alex advises.

“Please get Judd to do that on my behalf. Tell him I can’t even talk for god-sakes.”

“Okay. I will. And...Oh, you also need to figure out who is going to stay with you while you’re home recovering, so message Mom and Dad tonight.”

“Will you stay with me? Can you?” Auston pleads.

“Really, you want ME? After today?” Alex questions.

“Yes, especially after today. We’ve been through a lot. You know me better than anyone. You’re my confidente, biggest fan and best friend. I trust you, and I enjoy your company. If you would like to stay with me, I’d love to have you.” Auston tells her.

“Well, thanks, Oz! I’ll seriously consider it. I enjoy living in Toronto. I also have been waiting for the right time to tell you that I have been seeing a guy from Toronto. I met him here at the hospital in the waiting room. His father was in the Intensive Care Ward when you were there.”

“No way! So something else great came out of my accident? What’s your boyfriend’s name? How old is he? What’s he do? Do you really like him?” Auston gives Alex the third degree.

“Whoa, Oz! Yes, I really like him a lot. I actually feel like I’m falling in love with him”, Alex says as a smile lights up her face.

“No way?!” Auston writes.

“Way! His name is Adam Lang. He’s a Toronto Firefighter. He’s actually studying to be a Captain. He’s 33 years old. Never been married. Has a golden retriever. Lives in the ‘Beaches’. He treats me like gold. He’s smart as hell and a jock. He makes me laugh, and we never run out of stuff to talk about or do. I know you’ll hit it off”, She tells him excitedly.

Auston smiles and motions for Alex to come in for a hug. He squeezes her tight and kisses her on the cheek. Auston is so happy for her. He knows she’s seen her share of heartbreaks over the years with two serious relationships that didn’t last. He always worried about her happiness and hoped she’d find a good guy.

They pull apart, and Auston writes, “I want to meet him! Bring him by.”

“Really? Even though you can’t talk yet?” Alex asks.

“I don’t care. I have to meet him. I have to make sure he’s not ‘a player’.” He writes, teasing and adds a winky face emoji.

Alex rolls her eyes and laughs. “Oh, he’s not ‘a player’ at all, Oz. He’s a fan. But not the Leafs. He’s a Bruins fan!”

Auston’s mouth drops open in shock as he raises his head to the ceiling mouthing a silent scream of “No!!!!!!!!!!!!” (See Gif at top of the page for the type of reaction). Then he grabs his marker dramatically as he writes and emphasizes each exclamation point with a flourish. “No!!!!!!!!!!”

Alex laughs.

After a minute stare down, where Auston tries to determine whether Alex is messing with him, Auston writes, begging, “Alex! Please tell me you’re joking! It’s not nice to be mean to someone in the hospital.”

“Just a little payback for how you treated Quinn. You’ll have to wait and ask Adam when you meet him.”

Auston writes, “Well played, Alex! Well played! I deserve this.”

They both laugh and high five each other just as Dr Quinn enters the room.

#auston #auston matthews #auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #imagines #fanfiction #imagine #love story #nhl fanfiction

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vegetacide · 5 years

Text

Whump●tober -Shaky Hands

Veg-notables: So I decided that this one needed a revisit as the aftermath of 10.Unconscious intrigued me.. I intended to take a break today.. oops.. failed.

@gumnut-logic ::sneak attack…::

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: Post brain explosions.. With residual ouchiness and discombobulation

Characters: Virgil/Kayo...

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous post for this can be found HERE

1. Shaky hands

Enjoy…

oOo

The fight to regain consciousness was a grueling task as Virgil’s brain sluggishly began to turn over and his internal dialogue fought to crawl back to the land of coherent thought. The first snips of reality peppering in and out of cognizance were in a weird tableau of hazy screen shots that left him confused and utterly disoriented.

The first thing to really registered in the slow moving molasses of his mind was the soft pad of retreating steps. The sound stood out in sharp contrast to everything else for some reason but he just couldn’t muster the energy to figure out why. No sooner had the thought entered his mind, than it was briskly whisked away with the invasion of light flashing over his closed eyelids.

The residual ache behind his twinging optic nerves thrummed along with his heartbeat and forced him to shut down anything too complicated to process. Which didn’t leave him with much to work with except maybe breathing.

Uhg, what the hell?

Shielding his eyes as the bright afterimages swirled about the inky darkness he wanted to marshal something from his flagged system to seek out and destroy the invasive luminescence. Unfortunately that would involve ambulation and that too seemed beyond his current abilities.

A twing again.. Right, stick with breathing..

Cautiously, he cracked open gritty eyes. Blinked repeatedly at the sting as they instantly began to water. A quick, foggy eyed glance about told him what he needed to know; location. He was in his room, though how he actually got there was a blank in his memory.

From what little he could remember, he had been on the flight deck of Two running post flight checks when the first inclination of an oncoming migraine started to present itself. After that, things grew very murky. Tiny little blips of colour and texture. A hard, cold surface, ebony richness, the scent of jasmine, a soft lilting voice, a warm breath across his skin then there was nothing.

Reaching up a hand to rub at the tension at his brow, a tug on his arm forced him to open his eyes again. “..shit…” He softly cursed as he took note of the IV line and his eyes traced up the line to hazily take in the bag of saline hanging above the headboard.

He’d really done it to himself this time and he was not looking forward to sorting this mess out once he was back on his feet. With the way he was feeling though that was still a while off.

Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, Virgil heaved his torso off the bed with herculean effort and almost immediately regretted the action when the room started to spin and distort. Maybe not one of his best ideas but considering what had transpired over the last so many hours he didn’t think he could possibly dig himself in any deeper than he already was.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, elbows braced firmly on his knees. He was intent on getting his ass out of bed and across the short distance to the his ensuite bathroom but as he looked up he almost groaned at how far away the door appeared to be. The temptation to just return to the soft confines of his bed was growing proportionately to his waning strength.

Staring at the bathroom door just five feet from him, he willed his body to heed his mental commands. Feet firmly planted and he readied muscles to bunch and push off when a hand landed on the back of his neck and a quiet voice whispered in his ear.

“And where do you think your going?”

Flinching as the figure behind him scared the living shit out of him, Virgil found himself thumping to the floor with a not so very manly yelp. Pressing his hand to his racing heart he cursed vehemently.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Kayo smiled leaning over the side of the bed and looking down at him. “Don’t let Grandma hear you swear like that or she is liable to wash your mouth out with soap no matter what state your head is in.”

With the easy grace of someone who knew how to handle herself, Kayo unfurled herself from the bed and crouched down beside him. “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

All he could manage was a grunt.

Kayo tutted and ducked under his arm to help him up. He sometimes forgot how strong she wasn and in moments like these he was grateful for the practiced ease in which she used it.

Settling him back on the edge of the bed, she unhooked the saline bag from the quick release. her eyes concentrating on the task a little too hard for his liking.

There was a pensiveness about her that he knew well. She was brooding and trying to figure out the best way to broach a subject that she was unsure of. Not a good thing considering he had a pretty good idea what the content of her musings was.

Reaching up he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and once again contemplated hermitting himself away for the next century.

Her cool hands took hold of his forearm and pulled his hand away from his face. Checking over the catheter, she made sure the valve for the quick release was securely closed and the small bit of line was fastened in place with an extra strip of medical tape.

“Bathroom.” She ordered and tugged on his arm

Back on his feet once more Kayo shuffled him off into the bathroom. She stayed a pace behind as he entered the cool confines of the tiled space and as she passed through the door, she adjusted the lights to low knowing his eyes would be sensitive to it for at least the rest of the day.

While he took care of business, she turned the shower on and adjusted the controls. The muscles across his back tightened as the tension in the room grew with each passing second. “In you get.” She said once she was satisfied with the temperature but didn’t meet his eyes.

He obeyed with little complaint. He really didn’t have the energy to put up much of a fight and besides the idea the warm water washing away the sweat and easing his tired muscles did sound appealing.

Looking down at himself he realized that he was still in his arming tunic from the other day and with a snarl he pulled it up and over his head. His boxer came next though the act of ditching those took some effort as he wobbled like a drunk on one leg. Kayo steadied him with a sturdy arm and he gave a nod of thanks.

Naked and shivering as the cool air touched his sweaty skin he dragged in a breath, got a whiff of himself and instantly paled. A lovely combination of sweat and vomit mingled in his nose and he winced as his stomach gave a retaliatory squeeze.

Biting down on the impulse to toss his cookies again; like really there was anything in there to bring up, he forced his body to move and stepped under the warm spray of the shower.

Soap, shampoo, rinse, repeat. Stand like a statue and drown.. Was that possible while in the shower?

The stall door opened and Virgil groggily opened his eyes. Probably not possible, he mused. Wow he really was out for lunch still. His thoughts were sluggish and random and head felt like it was floating above his body.

“Out you get.” Another order and she still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Damn it.

Stepping out she dried him off and wrapped a towel around his waist before leading him back to bed. He had to admit the shower was a good idea, it had helped a little though it had sapped what little he had left in the tank on reserve.

A clean muscle shirt and boxers followed and she pulled back the sheets, an open invitation to get back in.

Effort expended, he did as she silently asked and sank back into the softness of his bed.

God, he was tired and he hated the lethargy that was going to dog him for the next few days. This episode had been a bad one. He knew he had over extended himself but what choice had he had. Lives had been at stake and if he could do something about it he was duty bound to step up to the plate, consequences be damned… or so he had thought.

Pushing the pads his fingers into his eye sockets and tried not to let the continued strained silence get to him. In his state, though his patience for waiting it out lasted a whole of thirty seconds. “Kay…”

“I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard.” She plowed right over him. Flattened him by the tone of her voice, the worried edginess to her usually pleasing lilt.

Crap on a cracker.. Virgil pulled a heavy breath into his lungs and the exhaustion weight down on him. He was tempted to look and see who had placed the house on his back but the answer to that was obvious. Himself.

Whatever his intentions at the beginning of all of this….several days ago, he hadn’t intended on scaring her.

He kicked himself with a groan. “Kay. Look, I’m sorry I worried you. It’s been a hard few days and I didn’t plan this…”

“That’s exactly the problem.” Her green gaze shifted and lasered in on him. “You push and push and push and completely forget that you’re human.”

She turned away from him, fusing with the saline bag as she hooked him back up again. Her handling of the IV rough and it was obvious even to his foggy brain that she was uncomfortable revealing this part of herself even to him. “Do you know what it was like to see you like that?” Her voice was a whisper but he heard it loud and clear as if she had used a bullhorn.

With a bit more effort than he cared to admit, he grunted back to his feet and stepped towards her. Reaching out he caught her hand in his and was dumbfounded to find it shaking.

Words caught in his throat, he pulled her to him and wrapped her in his embrace. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in his ear, his voice rough as her shoulders quaked. Shit “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I’ll try harder but please don’t cry.”

Her shoulders silently shuddered under him, the only sign that she would give of her distress and she buried her face into his neck. Her willowy arms encircling his waist and holding on tight as she tried to rein in her rampant emotions.

Christ, he’d done it this time. She never cried. He’d really scared her this time for her have become this upset.

He would rather deal with her ire and scathing tongue. Her anger was something he knew how to handle and something he much preferred. Tears though? From her? He was at a complete loss.

He would do better. He had to.

He swept a comforting hand down the length of her back and brushed a kissed across her crown. An unvoiced promise in his actions, he would do anything to make this right again.

Energy flagging, he pulled her down to the bed with him and tucked her into his side. Comfort and sleep first then they would tackle figuring this out. He would figure this out.

The fading ache behind his eyes gave a little thump. A friendly reminder of what happened when he neglected himself that he wasn’t soon to forget.

After this he was sure he was going to have to contend with his big brother… Something that he didn’t look forward to considering the state that Kayo was in.

Shit....

The End.

oOo

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

#whumptober2019 #whumptober #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfic #thunderbirds fanfiction #no.1 #shaky hands #Virgil Tracy #Kayo Kyrano #virgil/kayo #aftermath #what the hell did he do to himself #ouch #part 2

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