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ashlingiswriting · 1 year

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do i know you? chapter six

[ 3.8k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five ] [ masterlist ] "maybe i just need to say something to you? get it out of my system?" richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

by the time you get downstairs and push through the doors, you’re clutching that note like it’s a talisman of protection. richie looks up at the sound, and for a second, neither of you are pretending a thing. you’re so fucking happy to see him, you let it shine. he does too.

he looks dead tired but all right. the only new thing is a takeout bag from the beef sitting on the ground next to him, presumably some leftovers for a late night snack.

yo, he says, loud and hearty.

hello hello, you say. look what the cat killed, ate, and shat out on my doorstep.

he grins. you’re looking like a real vulture buffet yourself.

thanks.

yeah. he rubs his jaw with his knuckles. sorry i missed yesterday. i was busy getting arrested.

you freeze for a split second. then your brain catches up and you pretend that it’s fine, though you know it’s too little too late.

wow, congratulations, you say, a touch loudly. who’d you kill?

for that, he barks out a way bigger laugh than you think your lazy joke deserves. his laugh frays at the edges and he runs his hand over his hair, which makes you nervous, but you don’t press. you have time.

it’s more about who i didn’t kill, he eventually says. and, hey. he touches his own chest with exaggerated innocence. i was being a good boy. i was sticking by carmy like you said. but what do you know? kid couldn’t protect me for shit.

if carmy ever took a punch for your sake, you’d throw a level five tropical storm about it right in the middle of river north, you say, and he makes a little scoffing sound that confirms you’re right. was it the bachelor party?

yeah. barely a fight, you know those white collar criminals can’t punch for shit.

you consider him openly, failing to find any bruises on his face or neck, knowing that most of his body is covered up. your own head is so full of buzzing that you can’t really run a lie detector on his claims.

let me see your hands, you say.

you’re about to demonstrate, when you remember you’re still holding the note. quickly, you shove it in your pocket, then hold out both your hands in front of you, knuckles up. he takes off his gloves, shoves them in his pocket, and mirrors you.

the first thing you notice is a lack of cuts and bruises, but your eyes linger long past that discovery because you’ve never had a chance to stare at his hands before and you probably won’t get one again. his fingers are longer than you expected, a little reddened in the cold. no big scars, but a few little ones, what you’d expect from a line cook. the ghost of a fading burn licks the inside of his right arm.

silently, you turn your own hands palm-up, and he does too.

there’s no cuts or bruises here either, no defensive wounds. he could be pretending to be okay, but there’s no lying to you like this. the body always tells.

under the winter-pale insides of his wrists, you can see the veins running blue.

do they pass inspection? he says quietly.

you stick your own hands back in your pockets and say, derisively, do you ever fucking wash them?

he snorts. you sound like carmy. not bothering to put his gloves back on, he gets out his first cigarette of the night and lights it.

what’s the charge? you say.

aggravated assault. lawyer says he can negotiate down to probation, cause it was pretty much the other guy’s fault and i don’t have a ton of priors.

you lift an eyebrow at him. how many is not a ton?

enough, he says, playing it with such exaggerated nonchalance that he’s just begging for a smackdown.

very cool of you, you say, stretching out the first word like it’s taffy.

he just shakes his head, smiling. shut up, you goody two shoes. can’t fuckin believe i brought you spaghetti.

spaghetti from the beef? you spent the last twenty-four hours tossed around like a rag doll in an emotional hurricane of your own making, there’s no way you make it past the first bite without some kind of a public breakdown.

i’m not hungry, but thanks, you say. i thought carmy axed the spaghetti, anyway. wasn’t that like one of the opening battles of world war beef?

many a village was destroyed, yeah, richie says, but he made it for family, so i guess he’s admitting defeat long after the fact. and not a moment too fucking soon, i can tell you that.

and out comes the whole story, the tomato cans, cicero’s three hundred grand, and the joint dream carmy will be carrying on by himself. the reason the beef closed early and won’t reopen tomorrow.

when richie tells you the beef is over, he looks a little nervous, but the truth is: you don’t give a damn. if the beef died, that’d be whatever. but if it died and it took richie and carmy down with it, yeah, you’ve spent some time thinking on that. so you’re glad, now, that it won’t happen, and richie’s so wholeheartedly relieved, you really mean it when you say, i’m happy for you guys.

marcus and syd are back too, he says, and his relief is palpable. though as human resources, candidly speaking—

you’re laughing already. oh, this is gonna be good.

i’m just saying, i don’t know if we should let syd back in, given that—

abruptly, richie goes silent and eyes you speculatively.

what? you weird little man. truly. what?

are you gonna be normal about this? he says reprovingly, a poor imitation of a severe teacher.

no, i’m gonna throttle you till you go cross-eyed, you say promptly. what’d you do to her?

do to her? he splutters. what’d she do to me?

i don’t know, something completely justified?

one inch. he holds up thumb and forefinger an inch apart, like you don’t know what basic units of distance are.

what’s that, the length i’m about to cut off your dick?

no! what are you—she accidentally—he puts his hands up like you're aiming a weapon at him. she stabbed me. which i’m cool about, obviously, he says, as if he’s doing syd a huge favor. i’m a very cool guy.

he’s being so tremendously weird about this, you don’t get it at first, but at the same time he’s being so tremendously richie that it only takes a couple seconds to work it out. when you do, you almost laugh in his face. cause on one hand, there’s his natural desire to whine and moan and make a meal out of the situation, and on the other hand, there’s his (maybe a little bit reasonable) fear that you’d lose it if you thought he was actually hurt bad.

so fuck it. you play the part, you stay blank-faced for longer than you need to.

the blade went in one inch deep, you say.

like, inch and a half, tops.

this shit is fucking hysterical.

okay, you say, in a calm, measured voice. where’d she stab you?

in the kitchen, obvi—

where on your body, idiot.

he mutters it, the wind picks up at the wrong moment, and you can’t hear.

what?

in the ass! he yells.

that fucking cracks you right open—you can’t survive that one, not even for the sake of a joke. staring at him, voice pitching higher with incredulous glee, you say, what?

she stabbed me in the ass, he repeats sullenly, having realized that you were playing him all along. as you try to cut in, he just keeps raising his voice in a sour, vain effort to try and bully you into shutting up: and i think, as the person ultimately responsible for ensuring the HEALTH AND SAFETY OF THE ENTIRE STAFF—

all the while, you’re raising your voice too, not willing to let him shout you down: well, i think we should give syd a five star vacation AND A FUCKING MEDAL!

you both stop at the same time, stare at each other mulishly.

whatever, says richie. those three syllables are so full of disgusted offense that you crack up in peals of laughter, and he relaxes. in his normal voice, he says, she’ll get her michigan star soon enough. that’s practically the same as a medal.

i know you know it’s michelin, asshole.

that’s what i said, michelin.

you’re such a fucking child.

shaking your head, fond and exhausted, you pull a pack of cigarettes from your pocket. you've forgotten about the note you stuffed in there, so it gets dislodged by the movement, and as it slips out, the wind plucks it away and sends it flying. fuck.

richie lurches forward and snatches the paper out of the air.

what’s this? he says.

if only the fucking wind had carried it away.

nothing, never mind, you say, trying to grab the note from his hands.

nothing’s nothing, he says, turning away so you end up swiping uselessly at his back.

for fuck’s sake, you sigh. an admission of defeat.

there’s a fifty percent chance you’re well and truly fucked, depending on which side of the paper he looks at, and there's nothing you can do to improve your odds. all you can do is get out that cigarette and concentrate on looking as impenetrable as possible.

eventually, richie speaks.

the girl who loved wild horses, fables by lobel, the polar express, he says. are these movies?

they’re picture books, you say, hugely relieved, even grateful. your first piece of good luck all week, and it turned out to be a big one.

picture books? i’m on chapter books now, richie says. mrs. lowell says i might even be able to read harry potter by the end of the year if i start now.

no, dumbass. those are for you to read to eva.

oh. he keeps on scanning down the list. we actually have madeline already. she loves that shit. probably be reading chapter books herself any day now.

it never fails to tickle you, how much he believes that eva can do anything whenever she wants. he adores her so much, it bends his perception of the possible.

richie, you say indulgently, she’s five.

she’s almost six.

that’s still five. anyways, they’re really good, all the books i listed. most of them are caldecott winners. i remember my dad used to look for the little gold circle.

from the way he looks up at you, there’s no way his missed the first mention of your father. but, in a gesture of surprising grace, he just says, caldecott, what’s that?

it’s an award for kid’s books. only one winner every year.

he makes a face, and you have to laugh. partly from leftover relief, and partly because, richie, you’re such a fucking snob. it just means they’re good books, okay? you think i’d steer you wrong? only the best for eva.

always. he looks at the list again, a little puzzled, and finally says, thanks.

yeah, course, you say, experiencing a kind of joy that only thieves and liars get to experience: getting away with it. and you do, you almost get away with it, except that he folds up the note and sees your handwriting on the other side of the paper.

what’s this? he says.

don’t—

it’s too late.

just please don’t be a dick about this, you mutter as he reads. it might be the first time you’ve ever used the word please with him as anything other than sarcasm. you take one last long drag, then you stub out your cigarette, ready to flee if necessary.

is this for me? he finally says.

yeah, but—

did i scare you or something? he’s looking keenly at you now, you can feel it. you don’t dare look up.

no, you say. i scared me. god, how can you even begin to explain this? do you remember when you talked to me about that poem?

the caterpillar, he says.

yeah.

when you wrote those three sentences, you thought they were all you needed, but it’s so obvious to you now that even an essay wouldn’t be enough. you rub your forehead.

i think, you say, so quietly that the words are nearly deniable, maybe i just need to say something to you? get it out of my system?

yeah, says richie, subdued. shoot.

thanks. um. you rub your forehead for a second. look, all i know is that i can’t tell the future. like, with. it feels almost physically wrong, that have to force one of his names out, the one that richie will recognize. with mikey. i didn’t know. if i knew, i would’ve…

you look at him helplessly.

richie is looking back at you with the steady gaze of the only other person who actually fucking gets it.

nobody fuckin knew, he says.

you thought that looking back at him would be like touching a hot stove, but instead it feels like a lifeline, and you hold on as you keep talking, fumbling with your words, hesitant and slow. his blue eyes never flicker, never waver once. he is listening to you like the rest of the world has gone silent, like you’re the only one left, and you can feel every ounce of that weight.

i don’t know what’s gonna happen, is what i’m saying? it comes out of you like a question. and i think, maybe because you’re his, my brain got some signals mixed up. like, i can’t stop—

at the moment of decision, you find that you’d rather never see him again than tell him about the dreams. looking down at the concrete, you try to figure out something to say that you can live with.

there’s nothing. you end up saying something you need to say, whether or not you can live with it.

if you could just. you say. like, just…just fucking tell it to me, i’ll be good.

you have never had to put it into words before, and hearing yourself makes you feel so insane and abject and shitty and so fucking laughable, this must be some kind of dream. how the fuck did you get here.

the words on the note are: i’m sorry. i wish i was better at this. i want you to be okay.

you can hear the footsteps as richie comes closer: one, two, three. he’s close enough to touch you if he wanted to. you don’t want that. you don’t know what you want, except for this to be over, and you don’t know why you thought that putting out your cigarette would somehow make you able to leave. you’re holding perfectly still.

well, good news and bad news, richie says. a little quiet, but not precious. nearly conversational.

yeah? you say, soft.

bad news is i’m not suicidal, he says evenly, so you were wrong about that.

you’re so fucking overwhelmed, you can’t even begin to read him. and you certainly don’t know whether or not to believe him. it’s crazy: he says it perfectly, exactly what you wanted to hear, i’m not suicidal, and yet it brings no relief.

okay, you say woodenly. what’s the good news?

good news is i got that, uh, anxiety and depression—he over-articulates both diagnoses, an-xi-e-ty, and, de-pre-ssion—so you were right about that shit. he pauses. kinda shocked you figured it out, actually. nobody else has, unless i pop a xan right in front of them.

you look up.

bottom line? he says. the cadence is still conversational, but his blue eyes are so fucking sincere. i got eva and carm and a whole lot of enemies i don’t wanna give the satisfaction. i’m not giving up on any of them.

you try to give him a small smile. he deserves a whole lot more, but this is all you’ve got.

you don’t believe me, he says.

how the fuck does he know?

i don’t know what i think, you say. you got me all turned around.

deliberately, without taking his eyes off you, richie steps closer. he’s done this before, crowded you, gotten so close that he’s your whole world, but before it was always a challenge you had to stand up to and now it’s something else. it’s not an invasion, it’s an offer. he’s never been well-armored, especially not against you, but standing there and looking at you like that, he might as well be naked. you can smell him, sweat and fryer oil. his presence is so palpable it feels like hands on your face.

he repeats, you don’t believe me? and it feels like a promise.

you’re on dry land now. no more footholds, no more fear of slipping and falling. you can lay down here. you can rest.

you take it.

okay, you say.

with one last look, he steps away. you’re almost tempted to follow or ask him to stay, but that would be complicated, so you just lean against the wall next to him and light up another cigarette. savor that, and the piercing clarity of a dark night so cold that its clouds can’t even shed snow.

guess it’s my turn to ask you not to be a dick about this, richie says eventually.

no, i’m glad you did it, you say, and you mean it. getting medication, a diagnosis, all of it. i think it’s really good.

thanks, he says. i just meant, like, don’t be a dick about this new thing i’m about to say.

you look over and try to guess what fresh hell this is gonna be, but you also keep the door open to the possibility that this is a joke.

well, what are you gonna say? cause being a dick is kind of in my nature.

can you make an effort?

sure, you say, a little cautiously.

richie stubs out his cigarette.

i want you to be okay too, you know? he says, looking over to prove his sincerity with his eyes, and then looking back out at the street. you’re not wrong, right, i am actually fucking depressed, but like. it only took you one day to decide that something bad had happened to me.

this is so fucking unfair.

bad things happen all the time, you have no idea, you say.

his voice rises. i have no idea?

no, i didn’t— in your defense, you were thinking of a shadowed factory floor when you said it. that’s not a defense you can make, though, so you just say, i didn’t mean that.

richie accepts that, or at least he goes on.

it’s not just tonight, he says. sometimes the way you look at me, or the stuff you won’t talk about. secret agent aside, like. it’s so much, man.

god, the way he’s saying it, he’s been thinking about this for a while. on some level, you always thought that you were looking at him through a one-way mirror, always thought you were the one doing the seeing. you have no idea what to do with the news that you, too, were being seen.

he says, are you okay?

well? are you?

uh, yeah. you’re all hollowed out, and yet you’re still standing here, fucking talking, and. yeah, no, not really. but, you know, don’t worry about me, cause i got. who is it that you have, again? too much to do. i’m just too fucking busy to kill myself.

after a second, he says, and you got me.

yeah, you say. i got you. it comes out simple, natural. he’s offered it, so you don’t have to make a claim he can reject, and you’ve got no reserves of strength left to fight it either.

you look over at him, and this truth is the closest you’ll get to saying the other one. you say, i don’t wanna smoke without you.

you watch his face as your words land on him, and in some distant chamber of your mind, you think: so that’s what that looks like.

there’s one blessed minute of silence. then richie says, voice a bit thick, so if it’s not depression—

oh, jesus christ. it’s fucking not. you know you can’t just leave it there, because he won’t let you. it’s not because of his persistence—you’re every bit as stubborn as he is—but he wants to understand, and that’s the inescapable thing.

everything is going to shit, you say, after a second. i can feel it happening, but there’s nothing i can do about it. that’s all.

yeah, he says softly, after a second. i know the feeling.

no he doesn’t, but how could he? he’s thinking of the disappearance of the city he loves, the long slow slide from ceres to funeral. you’re thinking of how soon you’ll get what you deserve.

look, i already told you i’m a piece of shit, you say. and that’s it, that’s the whole fucking thing, richie.

yeah, i heard you the first time, he says. and then he says the worst thing he could possibly say, i don’t really buy that.

there’s no chance. there is just no fucking chance that this man is ever gonna get it.

i don’t know what you want me to say. at this point, your body itself is doing weird shit. you feel heavy enough to sink through the concrete, brittle and light enough to get disintegrated by the wind. i can’t, you say. i’m gonna go. i’m dead on my feet here.

richie stoops down and picks up the takeout bag with the tub of leftover spaghetti inside, then holding it out in the space between you, offering.

take it with you, he says. i know you’re not hungry right now, that’s fine. you can have it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. spaghetti for dessert. something.

you don’t have the heart to say no to the ticking time bomb, and you don’t have the energy to pick it up either, so you just fucking look at it.

carmy cooked it, he says, and if only carmy could hear the way he says it, like: of course you want to eat it, everyone wants to eat it, michael fucking jordan would be so lucky to get a taste, cause carmy cooked it. the sauce is berzatto family recipe, it’s really fucking good.

richie, you say, i know it’s good.

you can practically fucking taste it, which is maybe why you’re on the verge of crying.

he lowers his arm. the plastic of the takeout bag rustles a little against the pant leg of his track suit. you turn, throw away your cigarette, and go.

you’ve got your hand on the door when he calls out, hey.

you don’t turn around.

richie says, i don’t wanna smoke without you too.

[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109 — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

thanks to everyone for the lovely comments, and i'll try to keep posting twice a week for as long as i can. <3

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #to be honest i am really proud of this one 🥹#diky

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futureboy-caseyjones · 10 months

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Within 300 seconds

[Someone must definitely has written a fic like this. That isn't stopping me] :}

*Casey sat on the roof watching the sunrise* They did it

*He hears the sound of something scurry up up the fire escape*

Hey~ Case

*Leo dropped beside him and dangled his legs over the roofs edge* How's it hanging, hermanito?

Oh, it's fine.. I was just watching the sunrise.. *Casey had always been memorized by the world*

It's beautiful isn't it?

Yeah...

*Casey stretches and yawns*

Not as beautiful as me tho *Leo grins*

*Casey snorts breaking his stretch* Hey!

*He snickers, covering his mouth to make it least obvious* What's so funny? I'm work of art

Yeah sure *He rolls his eyes before he abruptly stops his teasing when he's hit with a wave of dizziness bringing a hand to his head*

'Sure the air was lighter here but only dust and seasonings made it act up'

Junior?

Sorry, I just felt a little lightheaded for a minute?

*Leo frowns, he glances over the edge and scrunches his beak in contempt* Maybe we should move back?

*He rose giving Casey another look and Casey stands as well*

*They back away and Casey stumbles slightly* Are you sure you're okay?

Yes. *Casey groans in exasperation while he turns to face him*

*Leo tilts his head, Casey waves his hand dismissively making Leonardo frown*

*Both freeze when he stops* Are you seeing what I'm seeing..?

Is your hand see through?

*Casey shutters. Swaying back and forth before tipping toward*

Casey! *The slider catches Casey with much too little resistance. He felt too light*

*Casey's breathing picks up and he stares at his vanishing hands, eyes watering*

It's okay, breathe just.. just breathe. In and out. *Leo takes an exaggerated breath, Casey takes a shaking breath, tiny translucent particles float off of him like glitter*

Leo, I can't! I don't- *He gasps desperately*

Hey, it's okay *Leo pulled him into a hug* It's okay, Casey. You're okay

'He's scared. Is he dying or is he disappearing? Is there a difference?'

'He can't breathe.. is air passing through him?'

Casey! Casey, look at me. Deep breath, CJ

In for five, out for seven

*Casey hiccups, gasping for air again* I'm dying..

*His voice cracks traitorously* I'm sure we'll figure something out.. in and out

*He gets lighter by the second* 149

*He pressed the panic button what felt like forever ago* 156

*The red ear slider holds him closer* I want you to take a deep breath, count to ten and say "これわなにも意味しない" okay?

*Casey nods. Inhaling and exhaling deeply* 161

これわなにも意味しない *He whispered. Was it a whisper or was his voice fading as well*

よくやった.. feel better?

*He yawned again and nods* Mhm.. you know.. Sensei used to say that a lot.. never told me that it meant, though

*Casey's weightless barely a silhouette and Leo can't even tell if he's shivering anymore.. Funny the weight he feels bearing down on him anyway*

176

*Casey's eyes drift closed* That helped a lot actually.

I don't know why I was so scared.. I have you right here with me *Leo blinks away tears, he rests his cheek on his head and churrs*

*Casey relaxes with a airy sigh* I'm so tired all of the sudden *Leo aggressively ignores tingle in his hand when particles slip through his fingers* You've been awake for hours, Case

181

Yeah...

*He squishes his cheek against Leo's plastron, cracking an eye open* The sunrise looks amazing from here

Sure beats the sewers, huh?

*Casey chuckles and Leo idly rakes over the rooftops* 'nd the apocalypse..

*Leo rubs circles in his back, forcing himself to stay relaxed even when his hand sinks through him*

Casey?

Mm? *His voice was distant and quiet* You know we love you, right?

..I love you guys too..

*He's fading too quickly, Leo can't stop it..* Sleep tight

'They won't get here in time.. he should've brought his swords why didn't he bring his swords!?'

*He's hugging air by the time he hears them hit the roof*

289..

The Panic Button's response time was always within seven minutes... They made it in four, Casey was already gone in three...

Leo?

Nardo...?

Leo, what happened?

#Ask Casey Jones II #Goongala #// Did you get the reference?#// If you caught the pov change you earned a cookie #// This is Platonic 🗡️😊

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sassymajesty · 2 years

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the most wonderful birthday gift a girl could ask for! thank you, @micserenity — seeing my words like that has left me speechless

#i have stared at them for five hours and it’s barely an exaggeration #i kept reading bits and!!!!! in the earning it back one has Hand On Ribs when i tell you i was 🥹🥹🥹🥹 the whole time #and it’s my three favorite lil babies #i’m gonna hang them on my living room I FEEL SO FANCY #f: boe series #f: southern au #i don’t even have a tag for behind the stars it’s been a hot second #micserenity

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drowninginliquidsmooth · 2 years

Note

a oneshot idea for Iceman: being married to Ice and pregnant with your guys' first child. him being guilty that hes never around bcs being a pilot is demanding. but you assure him you understand and tht you have a great support system around to help out.

Pregnant With Guilt -

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Fem!Wife!Pregant!Reader

Thank you so much for this request, I changed it slightly to have a very cute ending- but I hope you will still enjoy it <3

Warnings: slight angst, lots of mentions of pregnancy (if there are anymore please let me know)

Tom’s POV

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, was an excellent Naval Aviator- A TOPGUN graduate- but the mission he was on at that moment in time was proving rather difficult.

It wasn’t because he was a bad pilot- but he was struggling to accept the fact that he was hundreds of miles from his beloved wife, who was pregnant with their first child.

He desperately wanted to be at home with you, spending his days doting on you and your baby. He could hardly concentrate in whilst he hung out with his squadron at the bar, all he could think about you sitting at home alone taking care of yourself and your growing baby.

Most nights, he went to bed early and dreamt about the night you told him the sacred news.

You had known for two weeks already but you had been spending time putting together the perfect surprise for your husband. Whilst he was out playing volleyball with Slider, you had gone to the shops and put to gather your surprise.

At 6:30, Tom came home as you served up his favourite meal.

“Baby,” he sighed kissing your cheek, before sitting down at the table “you didn’t have to make this.”

“You right Tom, I didn’t have to, but I did,” you had told him with an over-exaggerated wink. “Now dig in I have a surprise for ya,”

That night, Tom had eaten his meal in flash, clearly eager to discover what was waiting for him.

You told him to wait in his seat, before moving the pots into the kitchen and returning with a large gold box, tied with a black bow.

“Honey, what’s this for?” He questioned, suddenly worried that he had forgotten an important event.

“Just open it my love, and all will be revealed,” you slid the box closer to him on the table.

You had been hit by a sudden splash of nerves as he delicately undid the lavish bow and removed the box’s lid.

You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at your lap has he gasped.

Tears had began to trickle down Tom’s face as he was met with the sight of two positive pregnancy tests which sat atop a beige baby blanket, and next to them sat a beautifully crafted rattle in the form of a giraffe.

Quickly he stood and grabbed you into a strong hug, you stood up against him and felt him grin into you shoulder.

“I’m gonna be a daddy!!” He screamed at the top of his voice.

“You’re gonna be a daddy Tommy,” you giggled.

He was deployed Three weeks later.

Tom had only been gone eight weeks when you called him, baring the news that your baby had kicked for the first time.

Tom was so happy that the baby was seemingly healthy, but simultaneously devastated that he wasn’t there to feel his son or daughter make their first movements.

That night, Tom had fallen asleep crying. His mind was filled with doubts about his ability to be a father. He felt he was already letting his baby down, as he was not their to watch it develop and he knew that his job would lead to a great absence in his child’s life.

Tom got the news that he would be home the same time you turned 23 weeks pregnant and he couldn’t wait. He had practically rant through the airport towards his five hour flight- his body aching to cradle your own.

Your Pov

The news of your husband’s return caused a sense of relief to wash over you.

Whilst he was away, you had all the help you could get from your mother and older sister, who had gone through six pregnancies between them. Their experience had meant that your pregnancy had been a lot easier than it could have been.

The soon to be grandmother and aunty were constantly at your side, then cleaned for you, helped you through morning sickness and growing pains, and even took you to your scans.

Only your mother knew the gender of your child, as you wanted to wait for Tom to return before finding out, and she had promised to keep the secret until a gender reveal could be arranged.

Due to all the help you had received, you were never alone. Most of the time you greatly appreciated this, but sometimes all you craved was to lay snuggled in bed with a book (and preferably your lover) where you could attempt to relax for the first time in months.

Your sister was the one who had took you to the airport, you both waited outside the exit as you knew inside would be a difficult place to be when you were pregnant.

However, as the ETA of your husband came closer, your sister returned to the car - wishing to allow the two of you to reunite in peace.

You were positively buzzing with excitement when you got the first glimpse of bright blond hair, and then all of a sudden you were in the the strong arms of the love of your life as he covered your face in kisses.

“Oh darling I have missed you so much,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck

“Tommy that tickles! I’ve missed you two though honey,” you giggled.

Quickly Tom dropped to his knees and began to say hello to your child, pressing kisses all over your bump.

Eventually you were dropped of home by your sister, who was only slightly disgusted by the amount of kisses shared on the backseat of her car.

You were surprised however, when Tom once again scooped you into a hug as the door to your home was closed. You were used to his affection, but you were startled by your lover crying in your arms.

“Oh Tommy, baby, what’s wrong?” You gasped, worried that something had happened on the mission.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so so sorry, I should’ve been here for you these past months. I should have been the one caring for you, but instead I’ve been on the other side of the country!” He sobbed into you, and you moved so you were both sat on your living room sofa.

“Oh my love, I didn’t know you were so upset about this, but my love I promise I’ve been okay, I have been properly cared for these few months- and now we get to live out the rest of my pregnancy together,” you explained, honestly shocked that he felt this way.

“I know that honey, and I am so grateful for the fact that you’ve been cared for up to this point and that I’m now here to love you, but this is our first child, I should have been here for the entire pregnancy,”

You didn’t speak yet, you just placed one of your husband’s hands on your belly, so he could feel your baby as it began to kick, this made his eyes widen and his sons worsen, however.

“I wasn’t even there for our child’s first kick and this feels magical now, but I wish I could have felt the first time with you. And what if it happens again? What if you become pregnant again and I have to leave?”

At this point you were both laid on the sofa, one of Tom’s hands were rubbing over your belly , and the other held your hand.

You gently shushed him, cooing at him until he was calm, “Sweetheart, I don’t know what the future holds for us but I know your an excellent husband, and I’m certain you’ll be an even better father. Please I beg you, don’t worry, everything will work out for us.”

“I can’t dare to even think about our child growing up with an absent father like I did, this job is risky. Our son or daughter doesn’t deserve to be raised by a widow mother, or to have a childhood where they see their father every few months. This job makes me an inadequate parent- you don’t deserve that my love,” Tom told you, he had began to cry again and it was clear as day that he was struggling with fatherhood.

“Honey, what are you saying? We knew the risks of your job going into this marriage. I know we weren’t trying for a baby yet but I had assumed you wished for a bigger family one day. Did I get that wrong?” You questioned, now worried you didn’t know your love as well as you had once believed.

“My love, I want nothing more than a family with you, but my job means that I can’t have that in the way I wanted,” he told you, wiping his tears on his long sleeves.

“So what do we do,” you questioned, “is this you leaving me?” Tears began to well up in your eyes, he wouldn’t, surely.

“No,no,no, honey I would never,” he gasped, before pressing kisses across your cheeks.

“It means, I’m leaving the Navy,” he announced.

This news shook you to your core, it was only two years ago that Tom had been promoted to Captain. Would he really give it all up?

“Tom are you serious? This job was your dream?” You asked, placing one of your hands on each of his cheeks.

“Well, having a family with you is my new dream, I have a lot of money from the Navy, so we could open that bookshop you’ve always dreamed of. Look, I’m 42 years old, I don’t need to be flying fast planes anymore, I need to be surrounded by my family!” He laid out his plan and you could tell he had been considering this for a while now.

“Oh baby, you know I would you’ve that, but only if you want it too,” you told him, before press a firm kiss to his lips.

“That’s it settled then, Tom Kazansky is retiring from the U.S Navy!” He exclaimed, beaming at you.

#iceman x reader #iceman #tom kazansky x reader #top gun #tom kazansky #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #val kilmer

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corpseglider · 4 years

Text

pairing .. corpse x girlfriend!reader (fem)

summary .. in which you’re very crafty and corpse loves rings

part two .. read here

the first flower.

“Hey, Corpse?” You called from the kitchen, signaling with your voice for your boyfriend to make an appearance as your hands were very clearly full and preoccupied.

You’d been working on your own personal craft project for about an hour now, your hands being very tired, along with your drooping eyelids. You’d barely managed to get anything done with your lack of creativity and skill.

Some people were meant for the fine arts—you, however, were not one of those people.

The island counter was a complete mess, an array of flowers and string were sprawled across the dark granite, sprinkling little bits of nature around the normally stark room.

You, yourself, looked like a mad woman. Little bits of leaves and excess petals were stuck to your clothes, hair, and face. If you’d walk outside, any stranger passing by would assume you were a wicked florist.

“Yeah?” Corpse called out from his gaming room, currently in the midst of streaming but he always made time for you. “What is it, beautiful?”

He stopped before fully walking into the kitchen, taking in the chaotic sight before him, before a bright smile lit up his face.

Corpse let out a bellyaching laugh, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You relaxed against his chest. Sighing in content as he gently picked away at the leftover flowers, throwing them to the counter in a careless manner.

He then took notice to what you had actually created, picking the only well made item up in the air and into his line of vision.

“You made this?” He asked, an expression of pure awe struck his features. He turned it around in his hand, getting a good look from every possible angle.

You nodded your head, taking the craft out of his grasp and into your own. “They’re rings, you see?”

“I saw something about them online and I thought I should give it a try.”

Corpse took your hand and raised it above your head, spinning you around to face him. He rested his forehead against yours and pressed a light kiss to your temple.

“I love it.”

You kissed him again, this time on the lips, before taking the ring in your palm and sliding it onto his pointer finger. “Good, because I made it just for you.”

“So you’ll always have a reminder of me during the bad times.”

He tapped your chest, right above your heart, proceeding to tap his own right afterwards. “I love you.” He whispered, not breaking eye contact for even a second. “With all of my heart.”

You smirked, pulling him in for another kiss, “As you should.”

the second flower.

You mentally cursed at yourself, accidentally walking into the night side table as you attempted to find your way around the bedroom in total darkness.

It’d been about two hours since you had woken up to work on Corpse’s birthday surprise, wanting the gift to be entirely perfect.

Replicating the original flower ring was much harder than you’d anticipated. Not having any material to base the new item off of was a real setback, but you had no choice as the first gift had died not even a week after it’d been worn.

Corpse was devastated when the flower wilted, having no way of staying alive without nutrition and a water source. He showed it to you, full of guilt for allowing your hard work to go to waste.

Although you reassured him that there was nothing he could’ve done to save the fragile flower, he still chose to keep it in his wallet. He said it was his lucky charm, not that those even existed.

But you thought it was cute. You love it when he expressed his love for you, even when it was in the simplest of manners.

Which was exactly why you’d woken up early in the morning to make Corpse’s birthday gift perfect. He deserved more than the best, and you were making sure that that was what he received.

“Corpse, wake up.” You said, softly shaking his shoulders while pressing kisses all over his cheeks. “Wake up, love.”

He groaned, taking his pillow and pressing it over his face. Though the look of low energy oozed from his aura, he made sure to give your hand a squeeze, giving you the sign that he was listening.

You proceeded to slip the new ring onto his middle finger, the familiar feeling causing Corpse to peek out from underneath the safety of his pillow.

He stared at the gift, fully processing the fact that he’d been sleeping without you, before yanking you with his grip and into the security of the comforter.

Corpse held your face in his hands, rubbing his flower dawned finger against your cheeks. A tired smile graced his lips, silently thanking you with the serenity of the sunrise beside you.

the third flower.

You knocked on the door of the gaming room, careful to make sure that it was an appropriate time to enter.

Interrupting Corpse’s streaming or recording hours was one of your least favorite things to do, accidental or on purpose. Corpse, of course. said he never minded, but getting in the way of his work would never be your intention.

“Come on in, Y/N!” He replied cheerfully, clearly in the middle of a livestream, but happy to hear that you wanted to visit him. “Say hi to the fans.”

You leaned into his mic, tapping it like a beginner to see if it was working. “Hi guys! Just popping in for a second to give Corpse a little present!”

Corpse’s ears perked up at your announcement. He sat patiently, looking at you with an adorable expression as you held your hands behind your back to add a bit of drama.

Slowly, you held out your lightly clenched fist above his open palm, dropping yet another flower ring onto his soft skin.

His eyes sparkled at the sight, bouncing slightly while he waited for you to do as you’ve always done—the very important job of sliding the ring onto one of his fingers.

You instinctively placed the item on the next finger over, which coincidentally happened to be his ring finger. He held his hand up to you, giving you a good look at your hard work.

“You’re amazing,” he smiled, his mic having been muted since you had finished saying your piece to the viewers. “You’re actually the greatest thing in my life.”

You scoffed at that, rolling your eyes at his exaggeration. “And you’re the most dramatic person in my life.”

Corpse laughed, returning to his stream after leaving his fans waiting for five or so minutes. You lingered in the room for a while, admiring his strategy and comfortability with his watchers, before leaving to get some of your own work done.

“What was it that Y/N gave me?” You heard Corpse say out loud as he read one of the comments after being killed early on in the round. You were sitting in the living room, realizing that you’d left the door wide open after you had left.

“She makes the cutest little flower rings for me. Hold on, I’ll post another picture of my hand so you guys can get a look at it.”

You clicked on Instagram as the notification that he’d posted popped up on your phone, liking the new photo without hesitation. Comments had already flooded the picture, all of them saying the exact same thing.

@user: is that ring on your wedding finger?!

@user: i think we lost him for real this time guys :(

@user: congrats on the engagement!

You laughed as you read the absurd conclusions that the viewers were jumping to, amused and grateful for their unconditional support of your relationship with Corpse, before a gasp escaped your lips.

@corpse_husband: guys were not engaged rn, but we will be once i finally figure out how to make these flower rings myself

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband oneshot #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse imagines #corpse husband #corpse #among us x reader

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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Date Night

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, sexual suggestion, that’s all!

A/N: hello! here is some fluff for y’all! hope you enjoy! happy reading <3

anon requested: Hi honey! I saw that your requests are open :)) I was wondering if I may please request a fluffly Natasha Romanoff x fem reader one shot, where she surprises the reader with a lunch date (reader has had a super stressful week!) and then convinces her to take the rest of the day off. Later on maybe Natasha starts dropping hints at their future together and later on in the week she proposes (maybe somewhere that has meaning to them) after a very romantic dinner. Thank you!! :))

Summary: Natasha convinces her girlfriend to take some time off of work. They end up having a date night unlike any of their previous ones.

Word Count: 3K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Natasha stared up at the tall building with two bags of food in hand. She was about to surprise you with some lunch, considering you haven’t been able to take a single break the entire week.

Seriously, even when you were at home, you’d be working on paperwork or taking call after call from your company partners. You’d then go back to work the next morning and completely neglect your own needs, the only thing you’d focus on was anything work-related.

You were the CEO of a major telecommunications company and things have been super hectic around your office. You barely had time to breathe with everything that had been going on, so, Natasha thought that it would be a good idea to give you a nice surprise.

She made her way into the building and got into one of the fancy elevators, quickly tapping the button to the top floor and stood in silence, lively elevator music filling the small space.

When the doors opened, she walked out and was greeted by your secretary; Megan.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff. Ms. L/N is just in her office working on some paperwork. She has a meeting in 20 minutes, though.”

Megan sent Natasha a friendly smile. The redhead simply nodded and mumbled out a small ‘thank you’ before opening the door to your office.

She was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk. The light poured into the tall windows in the room, providing sufficient lighting.

You glanced up from your papers at the sound of the door closing softly. Natasha smiled at you and held up the bags of food. Your lips turned upward at the sight of your girlfriend of five years.

“Honey, what are you doing here?” You asked as you got up from your desk, quickly making your way over to greet the Russian. You pulled her in by the waist and into a tight hug.

“I thought you could use some lunch. You haven’t been taking care of yourself and I’m here to change that.” Natasha mumbled into your neck as her arms rested on your shoulder, gripping onto the food she still had in her hands.

“Baby, you didn’t need to come all the way here. I’m fine, just been super busy lately is all.” You pulled back slightly and stared into green eyes.

“Yes, I needed to. I can’t just standby while you’re practically drowning in stress.”

Natasha got out of your embrace and made her way over to your desk, placing the food down and turning around, leaning onto the table with two hands gripping the furniture behind her.

“I’ll manage, it’s kind of my job.” You let out a small giggle, rounding the desk and sitting on your chair. Natasha turned in her spot as you patted your lap.

“Come on, let’s eat the food you brought. I have a meeting soon so we gotta be quick.”

Natasha walked toward you and sat in your lap, your arms circling around her waist. She opened the food and laid out the plates of Thai food.

Natasha fed you and herself. You both sat in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Occasionally, Nat would mimic an airplane or train noise as she moved the spoon closer to you, laughing as she abruptly shoved the utensil into your mouth.

After fifteen minutes had passed, you looked at your watch and sighed. You had another meeting that would probably be ridiculously long for no reason.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I have to get going. I have a meeting in five.”

You moved to get up, but Natasha refused to move off of your lap. You raised an eyebrow at her, the redhead giving you a stern look.

“Take the day off.” You shook your head in protest. You couldn’t take a day off, not now at least.

“Honey, you know I would if I could, bu-“ Natasha immediately cut you off, pressing her lips against yours before pulling back quickly.

“You can though. You’ve been working more than necessary! Please, it’s not even a full day off, it’s half a day.”

Natasha gave you the best puppy dog eyes and pout that she could, knowing how it affected you. Of course, she ended up winning.

“Fine, fine.” You muttered out, leaning forward and pressing a button on your desk-side phone, paging Megan, who sat just outside your office.

“Yes, Ms. L/N?” Your assistant’s spritely voice rang through the phone.

“Megan, could you please clear the rest of my day? I’m taking the day off.” You heard some shuffling on the other end of the phone before the woman replied.

“Okay, your schedule has been cleared and your meetings have been rescheduled to tomorrow.”

Natasha, who could faintly hear the other end of the conversation, smiled triumphantly and placed a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“Thank you.” And with that, you hung up and returned your attention to the beaming redhead in your lap.

“You never play fair.” You mumbled against her cheek as you placed a gentle kiss against her skin.

“All is fair in love and war, moya lyubov (my love).” You rolled your eyes at the Russian while holding back a smile.

She got out of your hold and stood up, grabbing both of your hands and forcefully pulling you to your feet.

“Let’s go! I know a few things we could do today.” Natasha spoke seductively and sent you a little wink before grabbing the trash on your desk and throwing it away in the small trash can you had under the table.

You watched with a wide smile as she waltzed toward the door, making sure to sway her hips a little more, exaggerating the movement. There was an extra spring in her step that caused her red locks to bounce with each movement.

She turned her head around when her hand was on the doorknob, smirking at you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you coming or not?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I have a feeling I will be soon.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 hours later

You laid in bed with Natasha by your side, her head resting on your shoulder with an arm around your torso.

After hours of love-making, you guys had finally gotten to relax. You both just stayed there in each other’s arms, appreciating the moment.

“Honey?” Natasha spoke, breaking the silence.

You tilted your head to look down at her, the redhead already staring up at you as you hummed.

“Have you ever thought about what you want your future to look like?”

This wasn’t the first time you guys have discussed the future. You’d both mention small tidbits of your aspirations and goals, but never went too far into the details of it all.

“Well, first starters, you’re definitely there.” Natasha smiled up at you with bright eyes. It absolutely warmed your heart to see her so full of joy.

“Really?” You nodded your head and kissed her forehead, the redhead briefly shutting her eyes as your soft lips met her skin.

“Really.” You pulled back, brushing your nose against hers. The redhead placed a hand on your cheek, as connected your foreheads.

“Well, I see you in mine too. Maybe we would end up leaving this penthouse and buy an actual home together.”

You nodded with a wide smile. The thought of buying a property with the woman you adored had you giddy.

“Yeah, definitely. Then maybe we could have little rascals of our own running around. We could find a surrogate or maybe even adopt if you’d want to.”

Natasha felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of love. The thought of having children to raise with you filled her with more joy than ever.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’d love that.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The moment was cut off when a loud yawn tore through your body, promoting a little giggle from your girlfriend.

She cuddled closer to you, her arm tightening around your body with a smile on her face.

“Let’s get some rest.” Natasha’s words were slightly slurred, the exhaustion of your previous activities hitting her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, so we can have energy for a round two.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah right, more like round ten.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Go big or go home!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Go to sleep, idiot.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

5 days later

It was a Saturday night and Natasha had practically forced you to not go into work.

Usually, you would go into the office on Saturdays, despite having the day off, to get some extra work out of the way, but your girlfriend was extremely persistent.

So now, here you two were, getting ready to go out for a date night. You had to admit that this was a good idea.

You couldn’t remember the last time you and Nat had gone out on a date; it was a rarity with how busy you both would be majority of the time.

You walked out of the bathroom after brushing out your hair, your heart racing at the sight of your girlfriend clad in a simple black body-con dress that hugged her curves in all the right places paired with a cute, black blazer.

She straightened her hair and did her makeup just the way you liked it.

You stalked over to the woman who stood in front of the full-body length mirror, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind and placing a soft kiss onto her cheek.

“You look gorgeous, baby. I’m so lucky.” Your eyes raked over her figure through the reflection of the mirror before meeting her green ones.

“Thank you, but I’m the lucky one. I swear, if we didn’t have reservations, I’d rip your clothes off and take you right here.”

Natasha’s voice came out husky when you kissed the side of her neck. You sucked on her skin lightly and went to leave a mark, but the Russian turned around in your embrace.

“No marks, not until after dinner at least.” You let out a small whine, pulling her front against yours tightly.

“Oh come on! It’s not like we haven’t ditched our reservations for dinner before. I miss you.”

You tried to go for her neck again, but she flicked your forehead. You stared at her with a look that screamed ‘what the fuck was that for?’

“Don’t give me that look. I’ve been looking forward to having a date night for months. We aren’t missing this. Let’s go.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Two hours later

Natasha had taken you to one of the best restaurants in New York. You weren’t one for fancy places, you were more of a ‘let’s order takeout and watch tv’ kind of gal, but Natasha absolutely loved luxurious dining experiences.

When you both arrived, the waited immediately escorted you both to the most private table in the house.

The table was set with candles and rose petals were spread across the tablecloth. You were blown away, seeing as the table overlooked the city.

Natasha pulled your seat back for you, placing a soft kiss on her cheek as you sat down. You watched as she rounded the table and sat in the chair across from you.

Her skin was golden as the candlelight brightened up her face, accentuating her green eyes beautifully. She had a cheeky smile on her face and wiggled her eyebrows at you before looking at the menu.

Of course, the redhead ordered the best wine the restaurant had to offer, immediately asking for a bottle of the alcohol.

You two talked about anything and everything over the course of the dinner. You had to admit, this was probably one of the best dates you guys had ever been on, besides your first one, at least.

As you both finished off your meals and were given the check, you noticed that Natasha couldn’t seem to sit still.

She was tapping her fingers against the table anxiously as she gnawed on her bottom lip. You placed your hand on top of hers, stopping the insistent movement.

“Is everything okay, baby?” You asked in concern. It was really unlike Natasha to be nervous, especially during date night.

She was usually relaxed and content whenever you both had time to spend out together.

The redhead sent you a reassuring smile and flipped her hand over, intertwining your fingers before bringing your conjoined hands up to her lips, kissing the back of your hand.

“Never better, hon. Come on, there’s somewhere I want to take you.”

Natasha placed her credit card into the bill holder and waved down a waiter and shortly after, you both walked out into the cool New York air, hand-in-hand.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Your eyes lit up when you noticed where your next destination was; Central Park.

You had always loved the park. There was something so beautiful about the scenery and the usual liveliness of the area that brought you so much peace and comfort.

Natasha led you towards a pond that was located in the heart of the park and you immediately recognized which one it was.

The redhead stopped in her tracks on top of the tiny bridge that hovered over the pond.

“Do you remember this spot?” She asked you as she turned around to face you, hand still linked with yours.

“How could I forget? You took me here on our very first date to feed the ducks, which completely backfired.” You let out a laugh at the memory, Natasha’s cheeks turning red.

“I wouldn’t say it backfired…” The redhead mumbled shyly which only made you laugh harder.

“Honey, you ended up getting attacked by pigeons because you were holding the bread. You walked me home covered in bird shit and your clothes were absolutely torn apart.”

You were practically crying from your laughter and you felt Natasha’s hand heating up in yours.

“It wasn’t funny! I really liked that outfit.” Natasha pouted as your laughter died down.

You placed a kiss onto her pouty lips, her frown quickly replaced with a bright smile.

“Anyway, I took you here because this is where our first date was which obviously resulted in us dating.”

You nodded your head at her words, deciding to remain silent when you noticed she had more to add.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And, well… this is where I want our last date, as girlfriends, to be.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You felt your heart sink at her words. Was she breaking up with you right now? It didn’t make any sense! She didn’t ever show any indication that she was unhappy or wanted to leave you.

However, before you could completely break down, Natasha let out a shaky breath, and it was then that you noticed how shaky her hands were.

“Y/N, All my life, I never thought that I’d find love. After all of the things that the Red Room had taught me and forced me to do, I never believed that love was in the cards for me, but then I met you, and everything changed.”

You stared at Natasha curiously. This definitely didn’t sound like a breakup. So what was she going on about?

“I never ever thought that one day, I’d find someone that I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. I never thought that I’d ever want to buy a house and build a family with another person, but god, I’m so fucking happy that I was wrong.”

Your eyes watered when the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. Your thoughts were confirmed as Natasha let go of your hand and slowly bent down on one knee in front of you, reaching her hand into her blazer pocket, revealing the small velvet red box that had been tucked away in the material.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Baby, these last five years have been the best years I’ve ever had, and it was all because of you.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Your hands flew up to your mouth as a gasp escaped your lips. There were tears in your eyes as she revealed a gorgeous engagement ring to you.

“Y/N, I want you, every day, for the rest of my life. Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Natasha’s voice was unstable as she tried to hold back her emotions, but that went out the window when you frantically nodded your head in agreement.

“Yes!” You whispered out in shock. Natasha looked up at you with a wide smile.

“Yeah?” The redhead asked for confirmation and you let out a small chuckle.

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you! Is that even a question?” Natasha grabbed your left hand shakily and slid the ring onto your finger.

You were both crying at this point. You didn’t care that you were both stood in the freezing cold, in the middle of Central Park.

All that mattered was that this was going to be the beginning of the rest of your life with the woman you loved.

Suddenly, Natasha stood up and picked you up by the waist, twirling you both around.

Honestly, you were surprised she didn’t stumble, considering the fact that she was wearing such high heels. Luckily for you though, she didn’t fall.

You were both laughing like maniacs when she finally stopped spinning. You were like two teenagers in love without a care in the world.

You leaned down, still in her arms, and kissed her passionately.

You could feel all the love and adoration she had for you through the kiss and you prayed to God that she could feel just how much you felt for her too.

When Natasha disconnected the kiss, she placed you gently onto the floor, your arms immediately going around her neck, hers securing themselves around your waist.

“We’re getting married?” She asked in disbelief. Natasha genuinely couldn’t believe that you said yes, even if you never gave her any indication that you would say no.

“We’re getting married.” You reassured her, kissing the tip of her nose, practically melting as her nose scrunched up adorably.

This definitely wasn’t what you expected the night to be like, but you wouldn’t change any detail about it for the world.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were going to be Y/N L/N-Romanoff.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

And that was a name you were going to carry around proudly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

Jealous Bird (Smut)

Jealous! Hawks x Reader

Warnings: sexual themes, strong language, feral Hawks, rut, unprotected sex, and a jealous birb, 18+ only please! :D

If you’d like the fluff version and not the smut, you can go here! ➪ Fluff <3

“Mornin’ chicken wing. What’re we doin’ for breakfast? I paid last time so this is allll on you.” Hawks sent a playful wink towards you as he landed beside you from his previous place in the air, holding his hand up and rubbing his index and thumb together as a sign he wanted you to pay. You rolled your eyes and rose your hand, mocking him. “Don’t forget who spent hours doing YOUR paperwork because a certain birdbrain was too lazy to do it.” Hawks held up his hands in defeat and slumped over, sticking out his bottom lip, over exaggerating his facial expressions. He whined and let his wings droop. “C’mon just one more time? Pretty please with your favorite pretty bird on top?”

“Stop dragging your wings, you’re gonna get them dirty.” You scolded and pat his back, slightly feeling how tense his shoulder were. You were about to offer to give him a massage later, not wanting your friend to have to sleep tonight with stiff muscles until you noticed something. His wings were almost glowing a whole new shade now. Such a vibrant and beautiful color. It was then realizing how close you were that you could hear a faint cooing bubbling from his throat. “...? The fuck are you doing Hawks?” He looked over confused and tilted his head. You grumbled at his lack of knowing exactly what he was doing. “Do you even have complete control over your body? You don’t even realize you’re whistling and cooing like some pigeon.”

You completely missed the pissed off look that crossed his face at your comment. He plastered on a cheeky smile and put his hands behind his back, picking his wings off the ground and tucking them firmly behind his back. “Nah, sometimes my bird-side comes out, especially during spring. God I go fuckin’ crazy. Sometimes it’s early and I have to take a whole week off a work!” You looked up to a couple trees you both passed while you were walking to your usual breakfast place, KFC —Although you always debate you want to go somewhere else. It was late winter, very close to spring, about March. You never kept up with the date. “Why do you take a whole week off?”

“People with animal quirks like me would understand. Just like Mirko! Haha, I’m sure she’s the worst right now bein’ it’s early March!” He laughed and put his hands out, his hands snaking into his pockets to firmly stick there. You pouted, wanting to know exactly what Hawks was talking about. You told Hawks everything, but he didn’t give you the same treatment. “I’ll just ask Mirko later then if you refuse to tell me.” Hawks quickly wagged his finger side to side in front of your face, his other hand being placed on his hip now. You were familiar with his body language and how much he loved using his hands. “Nah ah, chicken wing. You do that and she’s gonna pounce on you. You won’t see light for days!”

“Mirko has accidentally jumped on me before, it’s not like we haven’t sparred before! I can withstand some punches and kicks!” Hawks sulked again, his hands digging back into his pockets, displaying his annoyance that you weren’t listening to him. He just looked away and shrugged his shoulders back. “Just trust me, kiddo. It’d be for the best you didn’ see Mirko, especially at a time like this. I know how she feels.” You were starting to get irritated at his lack of response to your question, only dodging it and making you sit in suspense. Finally you gave up and decided to bring it back up later. “I’m just gonna stop asking, you’re obviously not gonna answer me are you?”

“Haha! Nope! You know me too well, (Y/N).” You both arrived at KFC, immediately greeted by the manager and many of Hawks’ fans who knew he came there a lot. Many asked for his autograph or a selfie, but he refused politely. “I’ll do some after I get some chicken! I’m starved!” Super fans offered to even pay for his food, to which he declined, saying that you were kind enough to have already offered to pay for his food. A total fat lie! He begged you to pay! You sent him a glare and proceeded just to order both your meals while Hawks spoke with his fans. “Well, guess I can start now! Who’s first?” After he saw you were paying and ordering, he began to sign autographs and take selfies that would no doubt be on social media in minutes.

“Man! I sure do have a lot of supportive and loyal fans! Must suck never bein’ noticed.” Hawks passively insulted your rank as a pro hero by taking a jab at your ranking. You were somewhere in the mid thirties. Not popular at all, especially in this part of Japan where Hawks was born. “At least I have fans who aren’t thirsty for me! Getting all wet and horny at night thinking of their hero Hawks taking them from behind~” You smirked and rose your hands shrugging your shoulders, before hugging yourself. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and squirming with a dreamy smile, mocking his thirsty fan girls. “Oh Hawks! Please I’ll do anything for you! Take me! Oh please fuck my sopping pussy with your big fat cock til I can’t move anymore! Mm! Cum inside me! Let me bare your kids!

You didn’t notice the way his wings trembled and his face reddened, his avian eyes widening as he watched you speak so lewdly. He shook it off quickly before he got out of control and leaned forward towards you smirking. “At least I have fans thirstin’ for my cock~ haven’t heard of anyone wantin’ your boring ass!” He gave a closed eye smile and brought his hands up to give you a big fat thumbs down. Your eye twitched and you remained silent, not having a comment. That was until you remembered a villain hitting on you not too long ago. “Well at least I’ve had a villain fawn over me! I can still remember it clearly! ‘Oh fuck, I would turn good to get a piece of that ass!’”

This time you noticed how his brows furrowed, and his wings fluffed up, almost as if he just had a whole shiver rake through his body. “When was this?” He asked, his head now resting in his right hand, staring intently. You thought about it for a minute, before taking a wild guess. “Ehh, about like a couple months ago.” This only put him in a more sour mood. You didn’t understand why he was acting so strange. Maybe it was what you talked about? Obviously you’d never talked about anything sexual with Hawks, but on the topic of thirty fans aching for him, you wanted to make jokes since he was always mocking you and making sly insults. “Sorry... I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. Well... it kinda is.” He admitted afterwards and smirked at you teasingly as if you would already know it was your fault. You frowned, about to open your mouth again before they called your number to get your food. You sighed and stood from your seat, walking over to the counter and retrieving the food, however, you were stopped by a man. He was young, about nineteen or twenty, quite handsome. “Excuse me miss, this may sound really straightforward and all but, you’re really pretty, and I was wondering if I could get your number?” You blushed a bit and looked away. You were a bit weary, but decided anyways. “I-I don’t know... I guess so. You seem nice. It’s-“

“Hey there, you gotta hobby of stealin’ other people’s things?” A gloved band came in contact with your shoulder, and a large shadow cast over you and the man in front of you. The man gasped in amazement at seeing the number two pro hero standing before him, it would’ve been a better experience if Hawks wasn’t threatening him with his looks and smart-ass remarks. “Huh? Oh! S-Sorry I didn’t-“ Hawks rudely interrupted the man, his gloved hand squeezing harder. His smile was obviously forced, and his feathers were starting to fluff up every second that past he stood in front of this guy. “Eh don’t worry about, you didn’ know. Now that ya do, don’t come near her again, Kay?”

And in the blink of an eye, Hawks pulled you away and out of the fast food restaurant. He aggressively pulled out the food and shoved yours against your chest, unwrapping his quickly and munching on it. “What the hell Hawks?! That was a bit much! He was being nice! It’s not like we’re dating or anything...” You trailed off, watching his wings twitch and fluff. You had noticed his strange behavior for a couple days now. His feathers would fluff up every now and again —you had no idea why— especially near men. “You should be thankin’ me chicken wing. I just saved you from a world of heartbreak.”

“That’s not your place to decide, Hawks. I don’t intervene when women ask for your phone number.” You crossed yours arms and turned your nose up at his childish behavior. He didn’t respond, finishing his breakfast and throwing away his trash in a nearby can. His hands slipping back into his pockets, displaying that he was closing himself off from you now. Of course, you began to become irritated at his lack of voice, but you decided to let it go and not pressure him further. “You’ve been acting weird lately ya know? I’m getting worried...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Oh how you hated his emotionless voice, so bland and robotic, it honestly pained you. His eyes were sharp, quick to notice your saddened expression. Hawks sighed heavily and stuck his bottom lip out, wrapping his arm around your arms and pulling you close to him. “I’m one of the top five pros, you don’ gotta worry about me, chicken wing. Cheer up.” You smiled and shoved him off, only a bit happy his cocky and arrogant behavior had returned. The Hawks you knew and cherished. “You know, I hate you sometimes, but I can’t help but love you at the same time.”

“Who doesn’t love me? The sexiest bird-man around.” He smirked and gave you a flirtatious look, a small sound bubbling from his throat similar to a whistle. You returned his smirk with a teasing smile. You were almost immune to his flirty charm, key-word; almost. Hawks was definitely an attractive man. Those piercing eyes with dark markings around them, only making the color pop and glow. His messy hair swept back and disheveled. Let’s not forget about those bushy eyebrows of his, they almost look like feathers from his wings, only a beautiful ashy blonde color just like his hair. You could probably do without his egotistical attitude and vulgar tongue, but that was still all part of his charm. “Move!”

You were surprised by Hawks suddenly grabbing you and jerking you out of the way of an attack from a villain. You were right there in his chest, feeling his warmth, hearing the harsh thumping of his heart at the thought of almost losing you. Before he had a chance to say what he wanted. “Well there goes our leisurely patrol. And more paper work on our desks.” Hawks grunted in annoyance and took to the air. You finally regained your composure and got into your fighting stance. “Ready to kick some ass Hawks?! Whoever lands the final blow is treated to lunch!”

“Heh, you don’t stand a chance! Show me whatcha got!”

—

“Thanks Edgeshot... I totally owe you one.” You scratched their back of your neck with an awkward smile as you stood in front of the current number four hero. While Hawks was on the assault, eager to show off and boost his already high ego, you tried to get a sneak attack in, but the villain noticed you. They were about to attack you, before Edgeshot came and got you out of the way. Hawks didn’t take this too well. He became angry immediately and finished off the villain in a matter of seconds. “No thanks necessary, (H/N). I was just doing my job.” You hated being in debt to someone more than anything, so you quickly threw out an offer.

“Please! Let me take you out for drinks! Honestly! I’ve gotta do something! I-“ Suddenly a large shadow cast over you for the second time that day. You turned around and shrunk down noticing Hawks’ wings spread wide, fluffed to the brim and shaking in anger. His face was red and his eyes were narrowed at Edgeshot. He was angry at himself for not being able to protect you himself, and at Edgeshot for rescuing you and holding you close. That was supposed to be him. “H-Hawks? What’s wron-“ Edgeshot was the one who answered your main question earlier before Hawks could even get another word out. The answer shocked you to your core, finally understand why he was acting so weird.

“He’s showing his dominance, and in a public place no less, how careless.” You looked at the ninja hero confused before you turned your attention back to Hawks. Dominance? His wings were such a beautiful vibrant color now. A shade of red you’d never seen them before on him. A sudden flash captured your eyes, taking your attention away from his beautiful wings. The media was eating this up. Soon it would reach the Hero Public Safety Commission and the president would not like this one bit. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I’m impatient, I can’t wait any longer.” Your eyes widened as your attention was fully back on Hawks now. You opened your mouth about to ask what he meant, but something was preventing you from doing so.

Hawks’ lips were firmly placed upon your own, his bright red rings wrapping around the both of you to shield you from any watchful eyes wanting to take a peek at you. His lips were soft, his hands finding themselves on your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You were shocked, your eyes wide, heart hammering wildly out of your chest at the sudden action. Slowly, you began to kiss him back, falling victim to his charm and passionate ways. He was quickly heating up the kiss, but you placed your hands on his chest firmly, pushing him away just enough to separate your lips. He was chasing your lips, desperate to get another kiss. “Hawks what-“

“I’m tired of waiting. I can’t fucking hold it in any longer. I know I’m impatient, but you make it so fucking hard to hold back sometimes.” You opened your mouth about to question, but the only thing that came from your mouth was a terrified scream having Hawks launch you both into the air and fly quickly through the skies. You held onto him for dear life, screaming at him to put you down. You nearly hugged the ground when Hawks reached a luxury penthouse apartment. “What the hells the matter with y- mmm!” He forced his lips onto you quickly, roughly grabbing your body and pulling you against him. His wings still outstretched and flapping slightly.

His feathers went to open the sliding glass door, pushing you inside while still having your lips firmly connected. He was hungry, eating your mouth like it was the only thing he’d had in years. His tongue forced its way passed your lips, dominating the inside of your mouth with his fiery passion. Your hands clawed at his fluffy tan jacket, pulling him closer, your body now aching to be touched more by him. He was just so intoxicating. It was starting to get hard to breath after a while, and you tried to pull yourself away, but he moved with you, keeping your lips firmly together. He only parted away to growl out an order to you. “Breath through your nose.”

His hands were on you again, thick gloved hands trailing down your waist to grab a handful of your tasty ass. A squeak flew out of your lips, allowing him deeper access to your mouth than he already had. You couldn’t deny the dampness beginning to build down there. Your panties were now wet with your slick, making you slightly uncomfortable with the way the damp fabric rubbing against your folds. “God.” He breathed against your lips, not even giving you a second to catch your breath before he was on you again. His hands quickly got towork on getting your shirt off. “I can smell your fuckin’ arousal. Fuck it’s intoxicating. You drive me fucking crazy!”

“H-Hawks! W-Wait!” You voiced your want to stop and talk whatever he was feeling out, but just seeing that lustful passionate look in his eyes, it was a lost cause. His pupils were blown with lust, his breathing heavy and ragged, desperate to start touching you again. “It’s your fault... all your fuckin’ fault it came early. Now be a good baby bird and take responsibility.” You didn’t have time to refuse before he was on you again, his lips finding their way harshly to your neck, his teeth lightly biting. You jerked your head to the side, moaning softly at the feeling of his canines digging into your skin. Your heart was hammering harshly against your chest feeling his thick glove drift up your shirt, roughly grabbing your boobs, groaning at the squishy feeling in his hands. “I didn’ want you to see me like this... but after all the shit that’s happened today... I can’t hold back. Not anymore. That was out the door whenever you started mocking my thirty fans.”

He pulled your shirt over your head quickly, pushing you back into his couch while his hands grabbed your waist, his tongue sliding across the top of your breasts. A shiver raked through your body, low pants leaving your mouth as you watched his mouth move lower. In a flash of red, a feather came up and sliced your bra open, being the impatient man he is, he didn’t want to struggle with getting it off you just to see those perky nips of yours. You were quick to cover yourself, too embarrassed showing your best friend your body like that. It’s not like you would ever look at each other the same after this. A strong grip enclosed around your wrists, Hawks grabbing your wrists and pinning them by your sides.

“H-Hawks...” Your breathy whisper of his name drove him almost mad. He breathed onto one of your nipples, hot breath fanning over the entirety of your perky buds. You squirmed in discomfort and whimpered, your body betraying your mind, desperately wanting his mouth on you. “Hah... I knew you wanted me just as much as I fucking wanted you. How long, how long have you wanted me? Tell me. Tell me how much you crave me right now, ‘cause I can’t get enough!” He drew out the flat of his tongue, running it over your nipple, all while his golden eyes stared right at you expressions. Your legs clinched together tightly feeling a tingling sensation spread from his lick. “Hawks no, mmm~ you cant...”

“I can, and I will, you’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you out of my apartment until I’ve marked you as mine, and you’ve got so much fucking cum inside you that you’ll already look pregnant.” Your eyes widened and you jerked away from him. Pregnant?! Was he out of his mind?! You weren’t even dating yet! Sure you’ve had feelings for him for a long time now but this was all moving too fast! “What did you expect? I’m gonna breed you so fuckin’ good. So fucking good. You won’t be able to think about anyone else but me.” Now it all clicked. What he said earlier, how he was acting now. Why hadn’t you noticed it sooner? He practically told you everything this morning, you were just too stupid to consider it.

Mating season.

That’s why his feathers had been brighter, the cooing and whistling coming from his throat. The displays of dominance to other men who you conversed with. Courting traits for a male trying to attract a female. You weren’t dumb, animals mated to do one thing, and one thing only. Reproduce. Their instinct immediately is to find a female and mate with them, reproduce and leave. However, this wasn’t always the case in some. “Fuck, you smell so damn good down here. Your pussy’s so wet for me already. And I haven’t even done anything, yet. Looks like you’ve become a thirsty fan, huh? Wanting my cum deep inside you and gettin’ wet while I manhandle you? Fuck, you’re so damn sexy.”

“Hawks m-more~” You were hesitant to ask him for more, worrying for your poor body and your sensitive heart. Only sensitive for him. You accepted your feelings for him, struggling to voice your new found notion to him. He growled lowly in response to your request, hands hastily pulling your pants off in one fell swoop. He was absolutely feral. “I wanna eat you out so fuckin’ bad. Your sweet pussy, sopping snd beggin’ to be stuffed, fuck.” He has a particularly vulgar tongue most of the time, but never like this. He always expressed how hard it was for him to hold back, but this was a completely different side of him you’d never seen. It was like he was feral. A complete animal. “Oh, I’m gonna tongue fuck the shit out of you. You’ll cum all over my tongue, just like how you’re gonna squirt all over my cock.”

He stood up quickly, his feathers dispersing to shrug his jacket off before he pulled his tight shirt over his head. Just like that his wings came back to life, flapping slightly as a readjustment. His gloves were removed as well, now you could feel his bare hands roaming over your exposed body. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs and putting your inner thighs around his head, but not too tight. He approached your entrance, a damp spot clearly evident on your fabric panties. His fingertips dug into your thighs, pushing his face flush against your panties. He let out a breathy moan against your wet folds protected by your panties, subconsciously humping the couch for even the slightly bit of pressure against his hard cock.

“Hah, fuuuuck. I’m so horny, everything’s so hot. Let’s get these cute little panties off. Don’t wanna rip ‘em now. Need something to hold my cum inside your pretty pussy so you bare my kids.” Hawks grabbed your panties and pulled them down your legs and onto the floor. He kneeled on his knees in front of the couch, his head between your legs, your feet propped against the coffee table, and your hands gripping the couch anywhere you could, desperately wanting to grab his messy hair. “Oh god...” He moaned at the sight of your sopping pussy, your slick slowly dripping onto the couch much to your embarrassment.

“D-Don’t stare dumba- H-Hawks!” You cried out his name in surprise once he drove his face deep into your crotch. His nose firmly pressed against your sensitive clit, his tongue diving deep into your cunt without warning. Your hands dove straight to his hair, pulling at his blonde locks trying to keep yourself composed from his pleasure. “Oh fuck! Oh Hawks! Sh-Shit! Mmm baby yes~” Your head was spinning, his teeth lightly pressing against yours folds. It didn’t help anything with all of the lewd smacking and slurping of his tongue eating you out so damn good. “Ahh! N-No Wait! Your tongue! It’s so... Ngh! Deep!”

“Keep moaning for me, just like that. Moan for me and don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.” The vibrations of his lips against your sensitive pussy cause you to flinch and squirm against his sinful touch, fingers pulling at his hair harder. An unexpected groan escaped his lips as he went back to work, tongue swirling and digging around, searching for that one spot that would make your world come undone. You continued to moan and call out his name, instinctively pushing his head deeper. His movements were quick and sloppy, savoring every lick of your delicious fluids, groaning lewdly against your pussy’s lips once he found that spot. “Oh fuck! Right there! Mm~! More! Please a-again!”

He ruthlessly began to abuse that spot, pushing his tongue harshly against it and attempting to massage it. His fingers poked and prodded at your insides, pushing his fingers past and replacing his tongue with those long slim fingers of his. Your head was now thrown back against the couch, releasing his hair and clawing at the couch for dear life, desperately clinging to anything you could grab. You moaned at the foreign feeling, forgetting what if even felt like to have sex. You had a fleeting experience in your last year of high school, but that was it. One time thing. Now here you are doing it again, with your best friend no less, or were you even friends anymore? His fingers worked on making sure you were prepared for him. You were enjoying yourself, being pleasured by the man you’ve hidden your feelings from for years. Him however...

His cheeks were dusted pink, sweat trickling down his forehead with some of his curly blonde locks sticking to his face. His breathing was ragged, heavy and stuttered with a thick sense of desire behind it. His wings were quivering, the color so vibrant it could rival a neon sign. Now you didn’t know much about their nature, but you could tell just by looking at his wings that he was very excited and desperate. “Gotta get you nice and prepared for me right, chicken wing? Gotta get you ready to take my fat cock.” His lewd words made your world just so much hotter. You could feel your arousal leaking down your pussy to your puckered hole and down onto Hawks’ expensive couch. “Ahh! St-Stop! I’m-Im gonna cum! Oh god I’m gonna cum!”

He jerked his fingers out quickly, grunting in the process as he lustfully stared at his fingers coated in your juices. He breathed out a moan while he kicked away all your juices, growling lowly in possessiveness. “Sorry chicken wing but... I want you to cum on my cock. I want to feel you clampin’ down on me, cumming so hard you faint. Screaming my name at the top of your lungs so that everyone knows that you’re mine! All fuckin’ mine.” Your eyes widened seeing him sit up more, pushing his pants down the rest of the way before kicking them off, leaving him in only his red boxers. His arousal was definitively clear, noticing how the head of his cock peeked out from the waistband, leaking pre-cum, tip red and aching. The sight was undeniable steamy, your legs clenching together with your thighs slowly rubbing together. “That’s right baby. Already thirstin’ for my cock, aren’t you? Fuckin’ slut. My slut. Hah... fuck I gotta be inside you.”

He pushed his boxers down, revealing his aching hard-on. Balls lulling down, full of cum, ready to be emptied out inside of your tight pussy. Without thinking, you sat up slowly coming close to his erection. You could smell his heavily masculine and musky scent from where you were, but you needed more of him. You sadly didn’t get far before he grabbed your head and pushed you back. “Nah ah, baby. Not today. I’m too fuckin’ horny and desperate to let you suck my cock today. Next time.” Next time? There was going to be a next time? Your heart hammered harshly knowing your long time friend and crush planned on doing all of this again with you. “Hang on tight, dove. It’s gonna be a long bumpy ride.”

“W-Wait!” You watched in worry as Hawks pinned you down, spreading your legs and positioning himself. You hadn’t taken him seriously, but now you regret it. “P-Protecti- Ahn~!” You couldn’t even protest once he pushed himself inside, moaning loudly at the sinful heat that engulfed his cock, heating up his entire body more than it already was. His wings flapped slowly, occasionally twitching as he impatiently waited for you to get used to his size. The cool breeze sorta calmed you down, taking your attention away from the pain nestled in your lower regions. “Fuck, can I move? Please, please let me move.”

Good god did he sound fucking hot begging.

“Yeah, y-you can- MMM! Fuck!” You threw your head back, pleasure spreading through your body. As soon as he heard the word “yeah” he immediately got to work on fucking your cunt until you were overflowing with his cum. You harshly bit your lip, holding in your embarrassing noises from his ears, however, he had no problem not hiding them from you. “Fuck, fuck, hah... don’t hide your moans from me. I wanna fuckin’ hear ‘em. Let everyone know who’s fucking you, who you belong to, and that you’re m-mine! Fuck!” He breathlessly moaned against your face, ramming himself into you repeatedly. Your hands were now on his back, clawing down his muscular back. He growled lowly into your ear, breathily cursing. “D-Damnit! Can’t... f-find it! Ahh... hah... fuck chicken wing, fuck yeah!”

His husky grunts were dangerously bordering animalistic. His pants were ragged, hips never faltering in movement, his wings flapping slightly and quivering every now and again. “Yeah baby? You like me fucking you? I’m gonna breed you so fuckin’ good. You’ll bare m-my clutch! You’re mine, ahhaahh! Fuck!” You were crying his name, clenching his back with your legs squeezing on either side of his waist. His cock was hammering against a bundle of nerves in your body you didn’t even know you had. “Hawks! Oh god! Please! Slow down-!” He pulled out quickly, leaving you a whimpered mess without that full feeling in your stomach. He flipped you over, hastily ramming himself back in you from behind, his wild thrusts getting harder. “Yeah, fuck yeah! There it is! Yeah! Gonna cum right in that womb if yours, you’re gonna be so round and pregnant with my kids! N-Nobody’ll ever come near you again! They’ll know you’re mine! My dove! My b-baby!”

His hot hands pushed your lower back, slamming you down against the couch and brutally fucking your tight pussy like no tomorrow, animalistic growls leaving his lips, teeth burying into your shoulder and neck. He was marking you as his. You were covered in his scent now, other men wouldn’t dare come near you now that you were filled with Hawks’ pheromones. “I’m gonna cum! Ahh! Hah! Hahn fuck I’m cumming Hawks! I’m cumming!” He rose his hand and smacked your ass harshly, the red tingling sensation spreading through your cheek. It felt so damn good. He grasped his hand over your stomach and pushed harshly. “You’re cumming, yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock? Gonna try and milk me are ya? Milk me, baby! Milk me so damn good and get every last drop of my fuckin’ cum in that ripe fertile womb of yours!”

“Hawks! Hah! Hah! Oh I’m cumming! Nhhh I’m c-cum...ming! Ahh!” You came harshly all over his still thrusting cock, your creamy juices spreading all over his cock and slipping down his balls full of his child baring cum. He didn’t stop yet, still bucking his hips through your orgasm even though you were still so sensitive. “Ohho! You’re such a good girl! So good! Fuck baby! Yeah, keep squeezin’ me! Keep fuckin’ squeezin’ meee! Agh!” He groaned deeply into your ear, desperately panting and grunting into your ear. You cried, physical tears running down your cheeks at the intensity of his brutal thrusts on your aching sore cunt. He slapped your ass again, squeezing it tightly afterwards with his nails creating crescents in your smooth skin. “F-Fuck I’m close! Yeah you want my cum? Tell me you want my cum deep inside you! C’mon baby, say it!”

“I want your cum Hawks! Mmm! Please! Please I want it! I wanna carry your kids! I want to be bred by you! Ah hahn! I can’t! Please!” You immediately regretted your words. His pace had become quicker, harsh pounds becoming desperate. You could feel his balls slapping against your inner thighs, a red itchy tingling bubbling up. His hands came around your neck, the other going to harshly rub your clit. You couldn’t contain the endless moans, cries, and screams of his name, his hero name to be precise. “Oh god! Oh my god! Feels so good! Mmm! Hawks, I-I’m gonna cum again!” He pants against your ear, snarling and growling about how good and round he’s gonna make you.

“Fuck I’m cumming! Hah, fuck!” He grunted loudly and released heavy shaky breathes, his raging hard on twitching inside your now gooey insides. You came harshly, your walls clamping down on him. He was fully embedded within you, balls pressed firmly against you, his scarlet wings twitching and flapping, stretching widely suddenly stiffening up. You could feel the warm spurts of his cum deep inside, forcing a low moan past your swollen lips. His wings happily drooped once he had finished, his head now hanging low, trying to catch his breath. “H-Hawks... I love you.” You finally admitted to him, watching intently to see his reaction to your words. He laughed huskily, his golden eyes raising back up to meet yours, still cloudy with lust. “You fuckin’ better. You’re my dove, now and forever, ya hear that? Now...”

“Let’s make sure you get pregnant.”

—

Pain was the first thing you were met with the morning after your undeniably passionate night with Hawks. Feathers were scattered all over the place, large blankets thrown everywhere, and some of his clothes were thrown over you. Incredibly confused, you sat up but quickly jolted back down as a searing hot pain shot through your body from your hips. “Woah there, chicken wing! Relax, you must be in a lot of pain. I don’t blame you after the harsh fucking I put you through last night.” The man who had put you in such pain walked into the room, shirtless and only in a pair of boxers. The bed dipped slowly as he sat on the bed, handing you a cool glass of water. You painfully sat up, gently taking the glass from his rough hands, thanking him quietly. “What the hell did you do while I was out?”

The pro hero looked around the room before coming to lay eyes on you again, scratching the back of his neck with a faint blush on his cheeks. “I uh, made a nest!” He answered bashfully. It was an incredibly rare sight to see him embarrassed. Uncomfortable sometimes, but never embarrassed. You looked around the mess and raised a brow. “Nest? Why the hell did you-“ You stopped once you remembered what had happened last night between the both of you and what you had realized. You blushed and threw the covers off yourself quickly, horrified at the sticky mess dripping from your insides, still. Just how many rounds had you gone with him last night? “Hah, Sorry. I just couldn’ hold myself back. My ruts are really bad, which is why I always take a week off.”

“You didn’t have to cum inside me this much Hawks...” You said and cringed at all the fluids dripping out of your abused cunt. You didn’t notice, but his wings shivered, ruffling up a bit at the sight of your leaky pussy, until they settled down again. “It’s your fault ya know? Makin’ me so damn jealous I had to claim you for myself. Claim you before someone else took you.” Your cheeks reddened slightly, and you looked to the side, your heart racing. Of course, he could feel your sensitive heart racing, and slowly leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise, melting into his sweet kiss. There was no sexual intention behind the kiss, only a reassurance that you didn’t have to worry about speaking your true feelings, that he already knew you loved him. “You’re my baby bird now. You’ve upgraded chicken wing. Congrats.”

“How many levels are there with you?” You laughed, enjoying this sweet moment with your new lover. He laughed and hopped into bed beside you, pulling you close to him in your little nest. His hands ran over your flat stomach slowly, cooing and flapping his wings lightly. “A lot more, step up your game, baby. You good though? How do you feel knowin’ you have the most popular hero’s cum inside of you. Mixin’ with all your fertile eggs to make my fuckin’ kids.” He growled possessively and wrapped his wings around you protectively, kissing your head and over your face. You couldn’t help but turn red at his words, embarrassed by how blunt he is. “Do... do you really want to have kids Hawks? I mean... we just started... d-dating...”

“Who cares the order, as long as you’re mine and that little bundle of feathers inside you is all mine, order can go fuck itself.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his arm gently. His whistling and cooing got louder the more he cuddled you, his lips peppering your face with kisses. “Ya know they already have story’s about us? They got my whole ‘top bird’ thing on video.” He seemed quite happy with it. The president of the HPSC would not be happy about this once she found out. But knowing Hawks, he couldn’t have given two fucks about it. He raised your chin, smirking smugly. “I also tweeted that we’re dating and that you’re mine, and that we’re gonna have chicks, and that all those other guys better stay away or I’ll kill ‘em.”

You rolled your eyes. “You jealous bird...”

#my hero academia #takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo smut #hawks smut #feral hawks #mha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #bnha hawks

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narutogwriting · 3 years

Text

Ruin the Friendship

⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: angst; fluff; oneshot

⋇✦ CW: none

⋇✦ Length: 2.5k+

⋇✦ @gaarasandpit just a angst/fluff naruto x reader request if you’re up for it 🥰 maybe where the reader and him are somewhat close friends and he notices she’s drifting from him because her feelings get in the way? he’s oblivious and hurt about it then confrontation happens ending up in a good old love confession

“Cmon! Open up!” Naruto called from outside your house, pounding on the door like he had been incessantly for the past five minutes. “I know you’re in there!”

He did not, in fact, know whether or not you were in there, but he couldn’t imagine where else you would be.

All week you’d been missing; Naruto couldn’t find you anywhere. Sometimes he would see the flick of your hair from the corner of his eye or his ears would pick up the sound of your laugh, but by the time he turned to find you, you’d be gone.

Your absence in Naruto’s life wasn’t something of a minor inconvenience; it was a constant pain, as if he was missing a part of his own body. Iruka had joked that Naruto missing you was akin to that of a phantom limb, like there was something of him that should be there and it wasn’t and he ached because of it.

“No, Naruto. We haven’t seen her,” Shikamaru shrugged. Ino nodded her agreement.

“Sorry. Maybe she’s on a mission or something.

Naruto frowned, sighing in frustration. “Alright, well, thanks.” He muttered before he sulked off. Shikamaru and Ino watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before Ino gave you a kick under the table.

“Ow!” you whined as you crawled out from underneath, rubbing your shoulder.

Ino rolled her eyes at you. “You’re lucky Naruto’s an idiot, or he definitely would have seen you.” She told you as you slid yourself down into the seat next to her. “Remind me: why are you avoiding him again?”

Propping your elbows on the table, you rested your head in your hands as you gave a forlorn sigh. That was a loaded question. You were avoiding Naruto because the absolute worse thing that could ever occur had happened.

You’d fallen in love with the idiot blond.

And how could you not? You’d been best friends with Naruto for the longest time. He was a constant in your life, always at your side. It was rare that one of you was seen without the other.

There was no one in the entire world that could make you smile or laugh the way that he could. Whenever you were sad or hurt, he always had the words to make it all better. Naruto had the type of smile that could save people, and you were no exception. There wasn’t a person in the world that could meet someone with a heart like Naruto’s and not walk away changed.

It had been a slow thing, a soft, unsure growing. It wasn’t a feeling you’d recognized at all once, because you always loved Naruto.

It wasn’t totally strange for you to get excited when you saw him or miss him when he was gone. It wasn’t unusual to think about him before you went to sleep.

But when you began to wake up and your first thought was, “my god he’s beautiful” when you looked at the picture of the two of you on your night stand, that was a little strange. You never used to spend extra time in the morning doing your makeup when you knew you were going to see him soon.

And you never used to blush when he smiled at you. Even you could tell you laughed a little too hard when he said something even remotely funny.

It was one day when the two of you were taking a walk that it happened. He was telling you a story, his motions large and exaggerated. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. As he turned to you, arms raised high over his head, his foot hit a rock. Naruto went sprawling to the floor, rolling across the ground and landing flat on his back.

You burst out laughing at the scene, hurrying to kneel at his side. “Are you okay!?” You asked him between giggles.

Naruto’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he laid on the floor. He looked up at you, smiling sheepishly. “Oops…”

It was such a simple thing, but you’d looked at Naruto and thought, “I love him so much.”

Nothing had ever startled you more.

Of course you loved Naruto; that was a given. It was never anything that needed to be thought or said. It was just a fact. But as soon as you had thought the words, you knew that it was different this time. You didn’t just love Naruto.

You were in love with him.

You’d hoped that the feelings would fade. Maybe it was just a fluke or a passing crush. Day in and day out, you waited for your feelings to go back to normal, but now that you’d acknowledged them, they only seemed to grow stronger. It got to the point where you couldn’t even look at naruto without turning into a blushing mess. It was pathetic.

So you’d decided there was only one reasonable solution: you would have to avoid him for as long as it took for the feelings to go away.

And of course you didn’t want to stay away from him. Being with him was as natural as breathing. But the way you saw it, if he found out about your feelings, your friendship could be ruined forever. This way, you could take some space, move on, and resume your friendship like nothing happened.

But Naruto wasn’t making that easy.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you and Naruto spent together until you were trying to distance yourself from him. He was everywhere. Every meal, every free moment, he was by your side or trying to be at least.

“Wanna go eat?” “Wanna go train with me?” “Let’s watch a movie!” “I heard there’s gonna be a festival in the next town over!”

You couldn’t get away from him. So this past week, you’d taken to hiding from him every time you saw him, deciding it was easiest to just avoid him completely. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe just how much time and effort Naruto was putting in to trying to find you.

But of course he was putting in effort. Because you were his best friend and he couldn’t understand it; where you’d gone or why you weren’t talking to him. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad at him or something? Your absence in Naruto’s life was drawing out every insecurity he hadn’t even realized he still had. He was worried, drowning in anxiety.

What if you’d decided you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? Maybe you were annoyed with him, found him to be too much. When you and Naruto had first become friends, he thought it was too good to be true. There was no way that someone as nice and pretty and cool as you would want to be friends with him. No one had ever wanted to be his friend before.

But there you were with your sweet smile and calming presence. You had accepted Naruto, every piece of him, without question or reservation. You meant everything to him, so the thought of losing you had sent Naruto into a panic.

You’d managed to avoid Naruto for a full week and a half. The past three days, as far as you knew, he hadn’t even made an effort to find you. It was a relief and heartbreaking all at once. You needed your space, but it hurt to think that maybe Naruto didn’t miss you at all anymore.

These were the thoughts racing through your head when you crawled into bed that night. You doubted you’d be getting much sleep; you’d barely gotten any since you had started avoiding Naruto.

Pulling the covers over yourself, you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable. It seemed like hours you laid there awake before tiredness finally started to drift over you. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off to sleep when a sudden loud noise startled you awake. Sitting up quickly, your eyes darted to the window where the noise had come from.

Naruto had forcefully pried open the window, shoving himself not-so-gracefully through the opening and crashing onto the floor.

He quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his head with a small wince before his eyes landed on you, widening slightly.

“Ah ha! I got you!” He shouted victoriously, pointing his finger in your direction. “You can’t hide from me anymore, believe it!”

God, he was too cute for words and that was exactly the problem. Your heart practically burst just looking at him as he appeared so accomplished and excited.

But the triumphant look on his face slowly vanished as he stared at you. When he spoke, his voice came out quietly, dripping with dejection. “Where have you been?”

Quietness settled over the room as the two of you stared at each other. Naruto made no move to get closer to you, and you likewise stayed strapped in your seat. “I’m sorry…” You offered weakly, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry!” Naruto snapped, anger quickly replacing his despaired features. “Tell me why! What the hell? You think you can just avoid a guy? Cut me off like I’m nothing to you!?” He was trembling, his usual happy grin twisted into a broken grimace so despondent it took you off guard. You had caused that hurt that Naruto was feeling. The thought made you sick.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, at least say something!” Naruto spat. “Don’t just run from me like a coward! If you have something to say, say it to my face!”

There was a harsh edge to Naruto’s voice that he never used with you before. Not in all of your years of friendship. You realized suddenly just how badly you’d hurt Naruto by avoiding him. It wasn’t something you’d considered; you’d only wanted some space so you could get back to normal with him.

But you saw it clearly now, the damage that you had done. Suddenly, in this moment, he was the lonely, isolated child that he had been before you met, feeling alone and abandoned in the world. And this time, it was because of you.

The regret was like bile on your tongue, and you wished fiercely that you could take back the past week and do it differently. You couldn’t stand the thought that it was you who had caused this damage to your best friend, the guy you loved so much.

You didn’t have any words to fix it. All you had was the truth.

“I love you.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could pull them back in. And once they were out, they couldn’t be taken back.

Confusion quickly settled on Naruto’s face. It was as if you could see the anger dissipate from his body. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape, while he tried to process what you’d just said. “You… What?”

Turning bright red, you pulled the blanket back over your head in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that! Now there would never be any going back to the way that things were, but you had to tell him. You couldn’t just let him think that you were cutting him off without reason.

“I said I love you…” You muttered from under the blanket. “I’m in love with you, Naruto. I have been for a while now, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So I thought if I just took some space and didn’t see you for a while, then maybe I would get over it, and then we could just keep things the way they were…”

It was much easier to get the words out when you were under the blanket and couldn’t see him, but you were still nauseous with anxiety as you told him how you felt. Your heart was steeling itself for rejection as you waited for his response.

The only noise was shuffling as Naruto came to your bed. You could feel the indent as he sat down next to you. He grabbed your blanket, slowly peeling it off of you and despite your reluctance, you let him.

You didn’t look at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position. You’d never been so embarrassed before.

“Did it work?” He asked you quietly.

Fidgeting with the hem of your night shirt, you mumbled, “Did what work?”

“Are you over me?”

The question took you off guard, lingering between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but flicker your eyes to his. He was staring earnestly at you with those wide blue eyes you loved so much. You wanted to lie to him but you just couldn’t.

“No.”

Naruto’s focused expression stretched into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You were too startled to respond, so you just stared at him, confused, instead.

“You scared me!” Naruto laughed happily as he rested his cheek against your head. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! You didn’t have to completely avoid me, ya know.”

There was a mix of relief and disappointment at his reaction. So, he wasn’t weirded out about your confession? Things didn’t have to change. The two of you could stay ‘just friends.’

“So, we’re okay?” You asked him nervously. “We’re still friends?”

Naruto gave a puzzled hum as he pulled away from the hug to stare at you. He raised his eyebrow as he studied you for a moment. You could almost see the light bulb go off above his head as he realized.

“Oh!” He laughed, grinning sheepishly and rubbing his neck. “I guess I forgot to tell you it back, huh? I thought it was obvious! I love you too, believe it!”

You blinked as he giggled embarrassedly, that signature smile of his on his lips. “Naruto!” You snapped at him, lunging and knocking you both off the bed. He landed on his back with you on top of him as you rubbed your fist into his head. “You dummy!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” Naruto whined, squirming under your touch. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend!?”

The question was enough to make you stop, your mouth frozen in a surprised “o” shape, just like he hoped. He laughed, sitting up and holding you to him before he placed a happy kiss to your cheek, making your face flush over red.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking at him as it finally sunk in what he said. He loved you too. He called himself your boyfriend. “Is that your way of asking me?” You questioned.

Naruto nodded earnestly. “And my way to get you to stop giving me a noogie! It’s a win win! Well, if you say yes, that is…”

Shaking your head, you laughed as your whole body softened in relief. Your arms slipped around his neck as you hugged him tightly. “Yes, obviously!” You told him. “Yes! I love you.” Naruto hugged you back just as fiercely. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached up to cup your cheek as he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

Well, you guessed your friendship was officially ruined. But suddenly, you didn’t mind so much.

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

950 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years

Text

busted in busan

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k a/n; for @suhdays holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.”

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh.

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans.

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea.

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease.

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile.

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head.

“Will the weather let up?” A frown.

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive.

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him.

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter.

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first.

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.”

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.”

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down.

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care.

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.”

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him.

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.”

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.”

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.”

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?”

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.”

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line.

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot.

“Nah, been booked since last month.”

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?”

He pats his luggage as a response.

“That’s not fair!”

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.”

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.”

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face.

“You want my ticket,” he states.

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle.

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those!

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks.

“Who said I was offering?”

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?”

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides.

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate.

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10.

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy.

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes.

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes.

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.”

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?”

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.”

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—”

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain.

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard.

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not.

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good.

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell.

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things.

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer?

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price.

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice.

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.”

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?”

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution.

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.”

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.”

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.”

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.”

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.”

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut.

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty.

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh.

You huff, and shift in your seat.

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply.

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.”

“Why, I’m engaged!”

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.”

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind.

“Holy fuck, have you two not—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!”

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing.

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle.

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.”

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position.

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to.

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months.

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.”

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you.

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—”

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman.

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger.

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that.

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses.

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to.

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook.

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams.

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow.

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside.

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible.

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat.

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van.

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back.

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them.

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off.

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet.

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously.

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots.

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint.

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure.

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey.

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?”

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.”

“Do you drive around a lot?”

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.”

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain.

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.”

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute.

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening.

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!”

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.”

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.”

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose.

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?”

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.”

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like.

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize: are you flirting with Jungkook?

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell.

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind.

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.”

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?”

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.”

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—”

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.”

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air.

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car.

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt.

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.”

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.”

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.”

That singular statement hits you, hard.

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs.

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.”

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself.

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable.

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow.

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route.

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.”

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath.

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer.

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours.

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours.

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?”

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.”

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook?

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk.

There’s no drugs.

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell.

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real.

Jungkook’s an artist.

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?”

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you.

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.”

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it.

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart.

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him.

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow.

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway.

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it.

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents.

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.”

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours.

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.”

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door.

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed.

It’s been a day.

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him.

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought.

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face.

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed.

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks.

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake.

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox.

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.”

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.”

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.”

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m in love.”

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.”

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.”

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin.

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you.

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back.

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.”

“Impossible!”

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family.

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.”

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door.

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers.

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him.

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window.

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.”

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.”

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself.

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.”

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible.

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.”

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.”

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.”

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch.

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking.

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown.

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.”

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.”

“Will you rile me up now?”

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.”

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell.

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath.

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—”

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.”

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner.

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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iovchlde · 4 years

Note

childe x a reader who works with kids? maybe like a teacher?

you really have a way with kids.

teucer doesn’t really like most of the teachers at the school, to which childe feels apologetic because he often has to stick back after school. he likes one teacher though— you— and after seeing the teacher for himself, he thinks he likes them too.

in which childe thinks his brother’s teacher is cute.

pairing.

childe x gn!reader

genre.

fluff

author’s note.

so like— someone make an in depth series of this please. the problem with not being able to write slow burn but absolutely loving to read it 😔✋

it’s becoming late, something you note to yourself when you look out the window, as the sky is now an ombre of blues and reds and oranges. you’d been so absorbed in grading papers that you’d failed to check the time— the clock now indicating that it was almost four post meridiem. a sigh escapes past your lips as you straighten your back, relishing in the feel after sitting in a crouched position for so long. it’s hard to maintain proper posture when you’re bored out of your mind. “two more papers to go,” you mutter to yourself. “and then i can finally leave.”

the room is dead silent so when you hear a creak from the door across the room, you look up in curiosity to see teucer peeking his head in. he hasn’t noticed you, as you’re hidden behind the clutter that covers your desk, and he’s looking around in hopes of spotting his peers. noticing that there was no one else, his lips tug into a small frown. you blink in surprise, looking back at the clock to make sure that you weren’t mistaken. but alas, it really was that late. halting your pace of work, you drop the pen in your hand and you stand up from your chair.

“hi teucer.” you call out to him, and he jumps from being startled, not quite expecting someone else to be in the room. teucer turns his head to look at you from his awkward position at the door frame, slightly struggling to keep the huge door open, and you motion for him to come in. silently, he shuffles through the door with his hands wrapped tightly around the straps of his backpack, and he flashes a smile towards your way. “what are you doing here so late?”

at the question, the smile on his lips immediately fall. teucer looks down and twirls his foot on the floor, his voice quiet as he speaks. “my brother is really busy with his job, and he hasn’t come to pick me up yet. i came to see if my friends were still here, but there’s no one else left.” your heart twinges at the tone he uses— dejected and downcast. mentally, you scold yourself for asking such an obvious question, but you can’t really take your words back.

you hum, walking towards the boy and crouching in front of him. “then, let’s do something fun to pass the time, shall we? how about drawing— do you like drawing?” his head immediately perks up the suggestion, and he nods vigorously as if to say yes.

“i have the perfect thing for drawing,” teucer exclaims. he pulls the backpack off of his shoulders, opening a big pocket and rummaging through it. it takes a second for him to find what he’s looking for, but he lets out a proud, “aha!”, as he finds it. excitedly, he fishes out a big pack of crayons, showing them off to you. a satisfied feeling blooms within you, glad that he’s no longer as gloomy as before.

you gasp. “is that a pack of sixty-four crayons?” he grins, nodding again. “well, i have the perfect thing for that too.” from your crouching position, you get up and walk towards your cabinet— the one filled with new and unused materials. yanking out one of the drawers, you take out a fresh sketchpad, and you place it on a desk closest to you. all the chairs were placed on the desks, a thing the school would ask of students to do as they pack up from their last class of the day. taking a hint, teucer rushes over and brings down two chairs.

“i wanna draw my big brother, and give it to him when he comes to pick me up.” teucer holds a determined look on his face as he says those words, and you can’t help but chuckle at his admirable love for his brother. ripping off a piece of paper from the sketchbook, you hand it to him, which he accepts gratefully. he wastes no time in unpacking his crayons, picking out some peachy color, and leaving the box on the table. “what will you be drawing, ms. y/n?”

you hadn’t actually thought of drawing, simply coming up with the distraction on the spot to cheer him up. subconsciously, you look to the side as you think of an answer. “i’ll draw flowers,” you say, and he smiles, going back to his piece of paper.

if you were to give an estimate on how much time has passed, you’d say that about fifteen minutes had gone by since you’d first started drawing. you finished early on, drawing two simple lilies onto the paper, and simply sitting comfortably on the chair. or at least, as comfortable as it can get for an adult sitting on elementary-student-sized chairs. it’s not for another five minutes that teucer finally speaks up from his concentration.

“finished!” the boy beside you exclaims, holding up his drawing proudly. on the paper is a stick figure, the hair that covers its head is ginger-colored, and it has a loopy smile drawn as its face. it’s charming, and it has a message written beside it.“you’re the best big brother!”, the little note reads out. (he used the wrong “you’re”, but you decide not to comment on it given that it’s after school hours.)

little did you know, teucer’s older brother is observing you two from the door. his arms are crossed over his chest, and a soft expression is evident on his face as watches the interaction between the two of you. teucer had always beamed about you to him— talking about how amazing of teacher you were, and how kind you were. “you really look up to your brother, don’t you?” you comment, while analyzing his picture more.

“of course i do,” teucer avows, answering to you almost immediately, no hint of hesitation within his voice. his little hands are always curled up into little fists as he praises his brother, his voice going up a few octaves than it normally is. “he’s really busy, but whenever he’s not, he makes sure to make it up to me. on my birthdays, he gives me really big presents, and he takes me out to parks as well. he’s the best, isn’t he?”

“i think your brother seems like an admirable man.” you comment. “but, you’re also a good brother too, you know? you care for him a lot, and i think that matters just as much.”

“really?”

childe’s gaze is soft as he watches the two of you talk, impressed by how cheery his brother was around you. it’s not often that teucer stays back and actually enjoys it. he hated to ruin the moment, but you’re interrupted as there’s a cough heard from the doorway, and you see a ginger-haired man leaning on the door frame. his looks are uncanny to those of teucer’s— boyish and smiley. must be his older brother.

quite cute too, but you brush off the thought.

the two of you make eye contact for the briefest of moments, but from those few seconds, you can see there’s a hint of penitence swirling in his eyes. the forgiving smile you return is barely noticeable, but he catches onto it with keen eyes. “sorry to keep you waiting, buddy.” he apologizes to teucer, before redirecting his gaze towards you. “i’m sorry you had to stay back and take care of him— though from what i can see, you really have a way with kids, ms. y/n. teucer here wasn’t wrong when he said you’re a really cool person.”

he gets off the door frame, now walking into the room and closer to teucer. the latter runs over to him immediately, sticking to his side. “mhm! ms. y/n is the best teacher.”

“see? teucer says so himself. you truly live up to the stories he’s told about you.”

you snort, shaking your head. picking up teucer’s items for him, you start walking towards the two. “being good with kids is part of the job description, you know? i’d be a bad teacher if i didn’t know how to handle them.” you say as you hand the bag and drawing to him. for a second, the tips of his hand grazes yours, before he promptly picks the items from your hand. “and he tells stories about me?”

“all the time,” he exaggerates, and teucer playfully pushes his arms. “teucer seems miserable around every other teacher, so they must be considered bad teachers by your definition.” he teases, and you flush at his words.

“oh,” you say as your eyes widen, “i don’t mean in that—” just as you’re about to protest against his words, he cuts in.

“joking, joking. anyways, we should really get going. i’ve already wasted enough of your time, as is— will i be seeing you around more often, ms. y/n?” he asks, and there’s a cheeky look to his eyes as he says those words, staring right at you. “y’know, for when i pick teucer up from school.”

you smile back, more obvious this time. “of course.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #childe fluff

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harry-writings · 4 years

Text

Drive Me Wild

- where Harry has a problem expressing emotions, and Y/n talks too much

Masterlist

A/N: mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, indications of depression, and a very mild form of smut (if we can really call it that)

Song mentioned: Invisible String by Taylor Swift

December 23, 2016

“Do you even have feelings for me?”

Celeste was sitting across the booth at their local diner, a half-empty mug of hot chocolate left stale at the table top, her eyes wet and cold just like the December she’d been trying so desperately to feel warm in.

Harry had his hands held together in front of him, his eyes void and stare blank as his mind played back to all the times he’d given his all to her. Sure, he didn’t always do it with a smile on his face or with lovestruck eyes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy.

And how could she not see it? How could she not feel it? He didn’t even bother spending his time with anybody else because he didn’t like anybody else. She was his only company, his only kiss, his only friend.

How was that not enough?

“What would make you think that I don’t?”

She laughed, right in his face, like it wasn’t enough to tear him apart.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She looked serious then, her face fallen and lips frowned. He felt stupid because he must have done something he couldn’t remember, or something to blindly hurt her feelings, yet he had no idea what it was. They were doing so good. “Do you even know how you look at me? Like I’m not even here. Like I’m boring you half to death. I can’t even tell what you’re feeling right now.”

Broken, sad, confused. He wanted to tell her that — he really did — but what would it have mattered? He’d still have that same meaningless stare and that same emptiness that had brought them to that very moment. She wouldn’t believe him even if she wanted to.

And it shouldn’t have broken him as much as it did, considering they weren’t even dating — just testing the waters, feeling each other out, wondering if their dreams could ever belong in their reality — but it hurt him just the same. She was the closest thing to a girlfriend Harry ever had, after all.

“Talking to you is like — it’s like talking to a wall. You’re just… there.”

She stopped to look at him more intentionally then — maybe she had missed something all along. Maybe, there was something he did to show the smallest of his emotions, like a shift in his eye, a pitch in his breath, a quiver of his lip.

But just like every other time, there was nothing. He was incurably empty.

“I think you’ve laughed at something I’ve said maybe, five times?” She let out a breathy chuckle because the tension was so thick she could hardly keep herself together, and she was so nervous, and he was so unpredictable. “And then you have this way with your words where, like you say certain things to beat around the bush about how you truly feel about me, and then it makes me wonder if it’s because you don’t even feel that way at all.”

He wanted to argue with her so bad. He wanted so badly to prove to her how wrong she was but how could he have, when she was so right?

Nobody had ever taught him how to do that — the relationships, the emotions, the vulnerability that came with being human. He couldn’t even recall a single time his parents had laughed at something he had said — couldn’t recall his parents ever having friends over, having date nights, even smiling at one another.

And to make matters worse, he was an only child. He was constantly around the voidance of his parents, the empty conversations, the pit of silences — really, that was all he had ever known. And later, that was what he grew into.

And if he could have changed it, he would have. But how does one go from keeping it all inside, to letting it all out?

He’s tried it all — emptying bottles of wine, smoking down blunts, shoving pills down his throat — and still couldn’t he laugh alongside himself, smile at memories that haven’t let him go, pour his heart out to strangers.

That wasn’t him. That wasn't who he was supposed to be, no matter how hard he tried to be that person for her.

But again, why wasn’t that enough?

“But I’m here, aren’t I?”

Celeste looked at him like it was the last time she was ever going to. And he knew.

“I don’t think you want to be.”

Y/n is utterly incapable of leaving Harry alone.

And Harry’s always alone, Y/n finds. Between every meeting and during every lunch hour, Harry always has a space beside him that’s just as empty and vacant as he is — well, just as empty and vacant as he comes off — and she assumes that’s why nobody’s ever been willing to take it.

But Y/n finds herself beside him more than she finds herself anywhere else.

Everyday when the clock hits twelve and lunch hour begins, Y/n sits in the chair right beside his and talks to him about anything and everything she can think of — the books she’s read, her childhood memories, the dreams she had the previous night — because he shouldn’t be left all alone the way he’s been so used to.

He doesn’t deserve it. He isn’t just a heartless, lifeless man passing through his days and night without feeling anything, he’s so much more than that — so much more than his blank stares, his vacant expressions, and his linear lips.

There’s something so unexplainably mesmerizing and compelling about him, she can’t help but wonder how nobody else has felt it. It’s magnetic, the way he tells the world everything it needs to know by the look and glimmer in his eye.

It’s all there, everything is there, yet nobody sees it except for her.

It’s as if the universe is telling her that right beside him is where she belongs. Nobody else has claimed that spot, after all, and it’s the only place that feels so right to her.

She feels as if it was always waiting for her, long before twelve o’clock, long before they had even met.

August 7, 2016

“Do you know how embarrassing it is?”

Y/n was sat on her kitchen counter in nothing but underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, sobbing and shaking upon the granet, her elbows on her bent knees so her arms were covering her mascara-run face — too ashamed to show herself to the world that’ll only find its way to break her down again.

Cooper was sitting on the barstool just three feet in front of her, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, his tie loose to his collarbones, sleeves rolled up against his elbows, eyes defeated yet raging with resentment.

She had never seen him quite like that — so vengeful and so unforgiving. She was so unloved, she saw it in everything he did that night — from telling her to shut up in front of his friends, to making her take a taxi home because nobody could stand the sound of her voice anymore.

The love of her life didn’t even want to take her home, and that was all she needed to know that everything she had ever held onto was everything that needed to be let go of.

“Darling… it has got to stop at some point. I know it’s because you’re nervous but you don’t do anything to change it.”

But why does she have to have to?

That’s all she wanted to know — all she wanted to scream at him at that moment in time but god forbid she had anything to say to him anymore.

And how many more times did she have to keep wasting her breath trying to convince him that she couldn’t help it no matter how hard she tried — the constant talking, the rambling, the scrambling to tell stories, the muttering in awkward silences.

It was her way of calming down her nerves in new environments she could never seem to adapt to — her way of dealing with groups of unfamiliar faces, her way of coping with the rest of the world.

And it seemed as though no matter where she went, there was no place for her. She constantly felt stuck in someone’s way, felt like she was always blocking the entrance, and no matter how many times she tried to find a corner to shelter herself in, there were people still climbing over her to go their own way, and she was always left behind, beaten to the ground.

She just wanted to catch up so badly, but only did it make her fall backwards, time after time again. Yet she still did it, time after time again.

So, she just kept crying, too embarrassed to look at him, too afraid to speak, too hurt to know that she could never forgive him no matter how hard she tried.

“Your habits become a problem when they negatively affect everybody else around you. Y/n, you barely have friends, you can’t make friends with mine, all because you don’t let anybody else talk.”

And what an over-exaggeration. Of course she let other people have a chance to respond and have side conversations… just maybe not as often as they would have liked. But it wasn’t extreme enough where the only conversations she carried were one-sided — not that she had noticed.

“I used to love you for it but lately it’s just been — it’s been too much. I can hardly stand it anymore. Don’t know how to say it without making you cry.”

There was no way to.

The babbling, the rambling, the talking… it was all in her nature. If somebody didn’t like it, then they didn’t like her, and it was just as simple as that.

There was no way around it — there was no magic serum, no prescription drug, no cure for over-talking. And there were days, endless days, that she felt cursed, because why is the one thing that’s so wrong about her the one thing she can’t fix?

But again, why would she have to?

“So — so all the times you kissed me whenever I started going on tangents wasn’t because you loved me or because you wanted to, it was because you didn’t know how else to shut me up, right? You didn’t want to have to hear me anymore. Didn’t even want to hear me cry.”

He didn’t have to answer her because she already knew the answer herself. What she once thought was manifested from pure love and endearment was just as toxic and conniving as everything else she’d ever put her hands on.

Why couldn’t she just be enough?

She refuses to move her hands away from her face.

“You never loved me.” Y/n whispered beneath the sobs that shook through her already broken soul. “That’s the worst part.”

Harry doesn’t like being alone.

He never has, but he’d been able to tolerate it through the years. He didn’t have much of a choice — forced to shove the feeling down to the very depth of his core and carry it around with him until it faded to a subtle numbness that pricked against his chest with every move he made.

Loneliness now, though, has taken on an entirely different meaning that Harry can’t tolerate no matter how hard he tries. Because now, loneliness means Y/n isn’t beside him, and he despises being away from her.

There’s something about her that’s unexplainably addicting, like a drug he can’t get enough of even when it’s soaking in his veins and taking over every one of his senses — one that gives him withdrawals that make him so far gone he can barely stand on his own two feet.

She’s unlike anybody he’s ever met.

Because though she seems to put herself out for the world to see, there is so much she keeps hidden. He can see it in her eyes — all the darkness and pain that’s been seeped within them, and nobody else has ever seemed to notice, because nobody else seems to care.

But he does. God, how much does he care, how much does he want to curse every person in existence for not seeing how deserving she is to be happy. It’s all she deserves.

And he’s convinced that the universe created her solely for him, because everyday when the clock strikes twelve and lunch hour begins, he’s reminded that she doesn’t choose anybody else — it reminds him that she chooses him, every single day, in a room full of people that are so much more approachable.

She keeps choosing him because somewhere deep down, he makes her happy. And he’ll keep choosing her, too, long after twelve o’clock.

Harry’s having a bad day.

Since the moment he blinked his eyes open, every little thing has been driving him absolutely mad — from somebody honking their horn at another driver (that wasn’t even him), to the way Jeremy asked him to change one of the slides for his upcoming presentation (even though he told him as nicely as he possibly could), everything was getting under his skin and onto his nerves like a newborn leech.

And what’s even worse is that Y/n is aggravating him when normally, he dreads the final minutes of lunch hour because it means they’re going to have to part ways and only see each other at team meetings until it’s time for them to go home.

They’ve been friends for two years and not once has Y/n ever made his leg bounce with impatience, or had him fiddle with his glasses out of anxiousness, or made his jaw clench with annoyance, until today.

It’s only twenty minutes past twelve and Harry is begging for death.

“You see, I didn’t know it at the time, though! I was twelve and the chaperones weren’t around to watch what I was doing. I saw the duck come towards me and for some reason, I really wanted to know what its beak felt like. I didn’t think it would actually bite me, I wasn’t food!”

And normally, he’d nod his head or give her some sort of indication that he was paying attention to her because he always was, but he hasn’t even so much as lifted his head from above his food since she started talking.

“And it hurt! Proper cried and screamed because it was so much worse than I thought it would be. Ducks are evil little things. I remember one time me and my mum were at the park having a picnic when a duck came flying by and almost hitting her right in the —”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Silence.

He shouldn’t be talking to her like this, he knows that, but right now, he can’t seem to dwell on the consequences that’ll surely come after this. This headspace he’s in is so unforgiving, it somehow convinces him that Y/n never talking to him again is exactly what he wants, when it’s so far from it.

This bitterness that’s consuming him is only swallowing him down for today, it’s temporary, he knows this because it’s happened to him before. It makes him act instinctively and selfishly, like he’d tear limb from limb if he doesn’t get what he wants in that very moment in time.

He doesn’t care who he hurts in the process, even if who he hurts is the only person he cares about.

“W — what?”

She knows what she heard, she’s heard it so many times before, she just can’t believe Harry was the one who said it.

Never, in a million years, would she have believed he would ever be the person to make her feel this way — so heartbroken, so lost, so confused. He’s always been so different with her, in ways she couldn’t explain, and it always made her feel worthy of something so good.

It never crossed her mind that he’d betray her like this, she never saw that in him — she never saw him being angry at her, or resenting her, or disliking her until this very moment, as he’s staring right through her, like she doesn’t even exist.

“Would appreciate it if you left me alone for today.”

There’s a thud in her chest that makes her blood run cold and her insides freeze with sadness. And there’s this look on her face that makes Harry want to take it all back, and he almost does, but he doesn’t.

She’s lived twenty four years of misery, yet never has she felt so hurt, because never has she loved so hard.

“Oh, o — okay.” She mutters with a faltered voice, nodding her head through unshed tears.

There’s forty minutes left of lunch hour and the only friend she has doesn’t even want her here. She has nowhere else to go.

But she leaves anyway.

Y/n locks herself in her room that night.

It’s a bad habit she made out of herself when she was a teenager — where she’d lock herself up, shut herself out from the world, and keep herself quiet until she’s forced to leave her house again.

She keeps the lights off and sits in the corner in silence, keeping herself awake by repeating self-loathing mantras in her head — like a form of punishment only she is deserving of.

She cries, but that’s all she allows herself to do.

Harry doesn’t sleep that night.

He lays in the dark and just stares up at the ceiling, wondering how he let himself do what he’s done.

Y/n means everything to him, whether she knows it or not, she’s the only thing he has. There’s nothing left in this world for him to hold onto, except for her, and he still managed to let her go.

Tomorrow, he wants to tell her he loves her, because he does. But that’s just another form of selfishness he can’t put onto her again.

He won’t allow himself to, though that’s all he wants to do.

Y/n doesn’t show up for lunch hour the next day.

And Harry’s never felt so alone.

Harry sees her three hours later organizing files in Jeremy’s office.

Suddenly, his hands are slicked with sweat and his fingers shake with nervousness. He feels as if the world has stopped turning because what he chooses to say determines whether or not he could ever have her the way he so desperately needs her.

He wipes his palms against his pants, gathering his breath and his thoughts before he slowly creeps himself up behind her — terrified that if he makes one wrong move, she’ll walk away from him again.

He really wouldn’t be able to survive it if she did.

“Y/n.” Harry greets her hesitantly, knowing in the pit of his stomach that what he’s done was so much worse than he thought because she doesn’t even acknowledge him — doesn’t even look at him — when that’s all she ever used to do. “Can I have a word with you?”

Still, she doesn’t look up at him. She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t even want him looking at her and she would tell him that if she were still talking to him, but she isn’t. She’s just going to keep biting her tongue until it falls off and she has no choice but to swallow it down whole.

Harry’s heart breaks when all he’s met with is her silence.

This isn’t her, and this isn’t what he wants.

His hand reaches down to her wrist, holding onto it so lightly, Y/n almost doesn’t feel it. Her movements halt.

He’s never touched her before.

“Please.”

Her eyes follow the path to where they’re connected, watching as Harry’s thumb traces the smallest of circles against her skin. And as she stares down so pathetically, she feels Harry’s eyes casted exactly where hers are, too, wondering when he’s going to have to let go.

And though his touch is mending the broken bones within her, his words cut like knives, and she’s still bleeding out so helplessly.

She rips her wrist out of his grasp, her eyes now just as far away from him as before. It happened so fast, Harry wonders if he imagined the whole thing.

“Busy.”

He waits for her to say something else — waits for her to curse him out, to yell and scream and rant to him about how much she hates every last bit of him because anything is better than this. But again, he’s left with nothing.

His world falls apart.

“One word? That’s all you give me?”

Her eyes flood with tears.

“That’s all you asked for.”

He slams the side of his fist against the shelf in defeat, so incredibly angry with himself that he can hardly stand on his own two feet without wanting to beat himself down. She’s crying and avoiding him like he’s the last person she ever wants to see, and the worst part is that he can’t even blame her for it.

He has half the mind to walk away and never look back because she doesn’t deserve this; wants to spare her the heartache and let her find somebody that is so much better than he is — somebody who can look at her like they want her to be there, somebody who can smile at her, somebody who can laugh with her.

He can’t give her any of that because that’s not the kind of guy he is, but he doesn’t have that kind of heart. He can’t let her go because deep down he knows she loves him, too, and what would it make him if he were to destroy something so beautiful before it’s even started?

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. All I’m asking is that you listen to me, please. Y/n, you know I didn’t mean it.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I like you so much.”

Y/n looks back at him now, her eyes still as wet and distant as before, and it tears him apart.

She looks into his eyes because all of her answers are there — they always are — and she can tell this has taken a toll on him the same way it has her. Even with his voice being so stagnant, and his face being so cold, he’s falling apart.

She wishes that was enough.

She looks away from him again.

And Harry’s at a loss. He doesn’t know what else to do to convince her how much he means it — how much he really is sorry and how badly he wants her. He’s so bad with words and so bad with expressing himself that he doesn’t know what he can and can’t do to get her to forgive him.

So, he does the only thing that feels right.

He grabs a hold of her arm and spins her around until her chest is against his, and before she has the chance to say anything to him, and before he can talk himself out of it, he kisses her.

His hands are intertwined with hers as he gives her everything he has. He’s absolutely relentless but it’s nothing short of passionate and desperate, longing for her even when she’s right up against him.

It’s better than either of them could have ever expected it to be.

He’s the first to pull away, and Y/n is let completely and utterly lovestruck.

“You can take it back!”

Harry looks up from his notebook with furrowed eyebrows and curious eyes, watching as Y/n slams the door shut behind her before standing at the head of the table with her arms fisted at her sides, nervously biting on her bottom lip and tapping her foot with anticipation — all the while keeping her composure as firm and collected as possible.

“Pardon?”

“The kiss.”

She waits for him to say something about it — anything about it — maybe even scoff or gag a little at the reminder. But alas, he gives her nothing but empty stares and emotionless lips.

“You can take it back, if you want to. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

And of course, she’s lying.

It would really break her heart in two if Harry felt that what happened yesterday was a mistake — that the feelings only fit in that one particular scene, that he was just caught up in the moment and didn’t know how else to apologize.

She had been waiting a lifetime for that sort of magic to be casted onto her — the kind of magic that has her feeling like she’s been granted everything she has ever wanted and more than she could ever ask for. And it feels so surreal that he kissed her that her head keeps swooning with hopes and dreams of everything that could possibly lay between them.

But if he isn’t laying in bed, desperately wishing for the same things she is, she needs to know before it’s too late.

“Oh.” Harry purses his lips, looking back down at his notebook as if she hadn’t said anything at all. “No, thank you.”

Y/n’s mouth drops ever so slightly before she shuts it closed again, flaring her nose as she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She had been preparing everything she was going to say for every possible scenario, yet here she is, racking her brain trying to come up with how to respond to such an ambiguous yet lucid answer.

And now he won’t even look at her, his undivided attention set upon the pen and paper below him as he writes the ideas for his next project, like it was the most casual and most nonchalant conversation he had ever been in.

“Was that all, love?”

Y/n blinks at him and tilts her head to the side, dazed in her confusion and lost at his choice of words.

Love. He called me love. He’s never called me that before.

But when his eyes sneak back up to hers, she shakes her head as if to pull herself together. She didn’t sacrifice last night’s sleep just to get lost in those very eyes — she needs to know where he stands with her before she takes another leap of faith, though all she wants to do is jump right into the same arms that were holding her so closely yesterday.

“I’m giving you a chance to opt out.”

Harry feels his chest fall to the pit of his stomach.

He straightens himself up upon the chair, his shoulders tensing and his fingers stiffening around his pen, feeling uneasy because does she want him to opt out? Does she want him to take back the kiss that’s been lingering on his lips for far too long now?

And he just looks at her, desperate for her to tell him how badly she wants him to do it again — tell him how badly her lips are aching without the feel of his and how badly she wants him to kiss at them until they’re numb and no longer her own, because he’d do it. He’d do it in a heartbeat if she asked with those pretty eyes of hers, with that stutter and that stumble over her words that never fail to make his heart give out.

And if that just becomes another long-lost dream in his never-ending curse of a life, it will do him in deeper than any of the trenches that have been dug out from within him — deeper than any cut anybody’s ever made on him because right now, in this moment in his life, she’s all he has.

“This is the one and only time I will let you break this off without me babbling about how perfect we could be together and how serious I am about you. Because it’s not going to stop — this rambling thing that I do — and I just want you to know that that’s what makes me who I am and it’s not going to stop for you or for anybody else. And so if it annoys you, if it bothers you and embarrasses you, I’m giving you the chance to leave before either of us get hurt and we can pretend nothing’s ever happened between us.”

She thinks we’d be perfect together.

That’s all his brain can process despite everything else that came with it — all that’s stuck in his brain and tightening at his chest.

He thinks they would be, too, when he really thinks about it. She gets lost in stories he lives so vicariously through, and he gets lost in feelings she lives so curiously in — submerging herself between the lines, reading what lies so dangerously beneath him. And nothing sounds better to him than spending every second of his day relishing in that feeling of intimacy they had both been deprived of for so long.

So how dare he? How dare he make her feel so insecure, so unworthy and so undeserving, to be standing here defending everything that makes her who she is when he’s so captivated by it all? And why is it so fucking hard for him to just tell her?

He feels the corners of his lips dip slightly to his chin, but that’s all he can manage to do. He hopes she can see it, and he hopes that it’s enough.

“I’d rather not.”

She frowns herself, looking down to her feet, feeling slightly ashamed for putting him on the spot like this. But what else was she to do? She couldn’t risk getting her heart beaten and bruised because of her stupid mouth all over again.

“But I’ve annoyed you before.” Y/n mutters between a pout, her foot kicking softly at the ground, wishing she didn’t let his words cut her as deeply as they did. “And like I said, it’s not going to stop. I’m still going to want to be around you and talk to you and keep you company and I don’t know what I would do if later down the line you decide you’ve heard enough of me and can’t handle the way I deal with my feelings anymore.”

But he wants all of that, too, more than he’s wanted anything else in his entire life. He wants her next to him during lunch hour talking about her days and her nights, wants her midnight pillow talks, wants her to be the only company in his cold and vacant home.

He just wants her to see it, wants her to feel it, just as much as he does.

“That was different.” He tries to sound more convincing for her sake, but he fails so miserably it hurts.

Talking to you is like talking to a wall — that’s all he can hear beneath his words and it makes him want to give up on the conversation because he’s afraid it’ll only bring her down more, but he can’t leave her like this. Besides, it’s Y/n. And for reasons so unknown, she understands him.

“I wasn’t aware of your importance.”

“My importance?” She scrunches her nose, squinting her eyes. “My importance to what?”

“To me.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in disbelief and she sucks in a breath so deep, it settles in her chest and she swears her heart is on the verge of flatlining.

“To you, right. To you. Because I’m — because I’m important to you...” she mumbles mainly to herself, so quietly and so breathlessly before it dies down on her tongue — the sight of Harry taking off his glasses and throwing them onto the table making her knees buckle and head spin with emotions she’s never felt before.

He’s got this glimmer in his eye and a faint smile painted on his lips and she really can’t breathe, now, as he makes his way towards her.

This is the first time she has ever seen him smile, and though it is as soft and small as any other she’s ever seen — so soft and small, she would have missed it if it were on anybody else — she’s the reason it’s there, and it’s a sight she wouldn’t dare take her eyes off of.

He stands before her now, his fingers reaching up to cup the blush of her cheeks, eyes following the shapes he traces with his thumb against her skin. And though his smile has faded to nothing and he looks as serious as ever before, he doesn’t look away from her for even a second.

And that’s enough.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

She flutters her eyes closed upon his words, knowing this moment is going to end all too soon, and she doesn’t have the heart to say goodbye to it yet.

She wants to remember this feeling for when she has to.

“No, no. That was all.”

He ducks his head and nudges his nose gently against hers before pulling away to pull her back into reality, just for a moment — just long enough for him to know that she isn’t holding herself back from him.

“And I’ve put your worries to rest?”

Oh, how her worries have subsided to nothing but a stomach full of butterflies and a chest of pulled heartstrings.

Nobody has ever made her so sure of anything, the way Harry makes her so sure of him.

“Yeah, I — you make me feel really good, Harry. Can’t explain it. Can’t even put it into words, really. Just, really, really good.”

He makes her feel loved.

And she wants to tell him that, she does, but that word — loved — it’s the same word he called her not just five minutes ago, but it’s so much more than that. Maybe he doesn’t love her, she surely doesn’t expect that from him just yet, but how is she ever going to explain that her feeling of feeling loved is what other people — normal people, she supposes — would consider feeling liked?

And as Y/n’s practically melting between his palms, Harry is trying so hard to understand just how he’s ended up here, being this close to her, when he always believed he’d go his whole life not being this close to anybody.

His eyes bore into hers just to reassure himself that it’s okay — that she’s okay and that they’re okay and that now, it’s okay for him to do the one thing he’s been dreaming about doing since yesterday. And when she smiles at him, a real and genuine smile, he nods.

And he leans in for their second kiss, his thumbs rubbing along her cheeks, humming into her mouth because his own has been watering for a chance to do this again. And it’s perfect. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way about anything.

And Y/n is on cloud nine. She could really kiss him all day every day and still feel like she hasn’t missed a thing. This — this feeling, this moment, this person — is everything she’s ever wanted and everything she will always need. It’s irreplaceably and undeniably hers, and she’ll do anything to keep it for as long as she lives.

Her hands are on his neck, pulling him further into her because she can’t get enough of him and nothing else matters besides them meeting in the break room, kissing behind closed doors like teenagers who haven’t learned how to keep their hands to themselves.

The only thing that breaks them from their moment is the sound of the copy room door being slammed in the hallway, their breaths heavy and lips red and wet from each other’s.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Harry suggests as his fingers tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Wherever you want.”

And Y/n’s unsure as to whether it’s the sleepless night sneaking up on her or if it’s the aftermath of Harry kissing her senseless, but she can’t think of a single thing she could possibly want for dinner when she just wants to be with him. He could take her to the most run-down restaurant in this city and she would still feel as though she were on the highest of hilltops, overlooking the prettiest view, all because of him.

“I don’t — I don’t care, really. It wouldn’t even really matter, anyways, just — just as long as you’re with me. Don’t even have to have dinner, if you don’t want to. Could do anything you’d like.”

She’s blushing and looking down at her feet, and Harry hates when she hides herself like this, hates that she puts herself under to put him first when she deserves to be the first and the only — he has a sick and twisted feeling she’s never been any of those things to anybody.

“Y/n.” His tone is slow and stern as his head ducks down so her can eyes can meet his. “Wherever you want.”

And how could she say no to those eyes — though always so dark, so void, are also so gentle and so kind, so deep and so open? The light in them changes just ever so slightly whenever he looks at her, and she wouldn’t dream of ever taking that away from him.

“I want what you have for lunch on Tuesdays.”

His thumb brushes against the edge of her jawline.

“It’s homemade. I can pick you up around seven, eat dinner at mine.”

Her fingers wrap around his wrist absentmindedly, holding his hand so that it stays pressed against the back of her head.

“No, Harry, that’s not — that’s too much work for you. Let me at least drive and meet you at your flat, yeah? I can’t let you do that.”

She really is just the cutest, sweetest, most considerate person he’s ever met, and the most beautiful he’s ever laid eyes on. And if she wasn’t all of those things, he would let her drive and meet him at his flat for dinner, but she is, and what kind of date would it be if Harry didn’t come knocking on her front door, holding out his hand, and leading the night away?

She deserves to have a night that’s just for her. And surely, Harry wants this date just as much as she does, but it’s not about him, because as long as she’s beside him, he doesn’t have a care in the world what he has to do to get her there.

“Y/n.” His voice is as low and stern as before. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

Y/n looks at him for a moment, studying him, wondering how she’s ended up here — the only place she has ever wanted to be. She lets out a breathy chuckle, her cheeks flushed, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“I’ll see you at seven, then.”

His eyes light up.

And they kiss.

It’s 6:35 when Harry actually comes to pick Y/n up, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see her so badly, and he couldn’t just sit on his sofa trying to justify waiting to be with her again. He would have been more than willing to watch her finish getting ready, or just stand at the other side of her door, trying to convince her to let him in because she’s going to look beautiful no matter what.

He doesn’t even care if he comes off as desperate, because he is.

And Y/n is, too, because of course she was ready by 6:35. Since the second she got home, she was putting herself together as best she could, though refusing to try as hard as she normally would with anybody else because for whatever reason, Harry likes her for her — likes her in her work clothes with her hair up, without makeup on, first thing in the morning — and she wouldn’t ever dream of jeopardizing that.

And Y/n is left speechless as she opens her front door, because not only does Harry look as handsome and fit as ever, but he’s also holding the prettiest bouquet of flowers she’s ever seen.

“Harry, I — wow.”

He holds them out to her, failing to mention anything about them, just handing them to her like it’s something so normal and so casual, when in reality, the gesture is anything but.

Out of all the years she’s lived, nobody’s ever given her a reason to believe she’s been thought about once out of sight. Even when she was with Cooper — her one and only boyfriend — he’d never bought her flower arrangements or spontaneous gifts whenever they were apart, even on the days he should have, like she only existed when it was convenient for him.

This is just her first date with Harry and she’s never felt more alive. She lives in his mind even when she’s blocks away — nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be heard.

She takes the bouquet from his hands, looking down at what must have been two dozen flowers, wrapped all together by a rubber band and light purple plastic wrap.

“Lilies.” She marvels at him, eyes wide with an open-mouthed smile, like she couldn’t believe the sight of them. “These are my absolute favorites.”

He nods, his hands locked behind his back, lips pursed and body rocking from heel to toe. “I know.”

She tilts her head at him.

“You told me a couple months ago during lunch hour.”

And again, she’s left speechless.

She can’t even remember telling him about her love for lilies, yet here he is, recalling all these small details about herself she’s said in passing. Even in the moments he wasn’t the most fond of her, even in the moments he could hardly stand her company, he was paying attention to her. He was listening to her, so much so that her words have stuck with him despite all the days that have passed.

And it’s no wonder she’s fallen so quickly under his spell — it was made just for her. Nobody else could ever see what he sees in her, and nobody else could ever see what she sees in him, and that’s exactly how they’ve ended up here — both standing on her doorstep, refusing to take their eyes off each other, anxious to spend the rest of their night together, hoping it’s forever.

“I love them, Harry, thank you.” She blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m just going to put these in a vase real quick. You can come in, if you’d like. Or you can stay out here, it doesn't matter.”

He follows her into the flat, which looks and smells exactly how he imagined it would. It feels just as warm as she does and smells like a mix of lavender and honey, just as intoxicating as her.

And though there are so many things he wants to see — the books she collects beside her living room couch, the movies scattered alongside her DVD player, and the pictures hung up on her walls — all he can focus on is the woman that’s stolen his heart so effortlessly.

He leans himself against the wall of her kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, watching as she pours the water and powder into the vase, stirring it together gently between her hands. And as she unwraps and unties the flowers, Harry wishes they could live for as long as they do.

This is the view he wants forever — Y/n putting flowers he’s gotten her in clear vases, surrounded by her favorite things, sharing comfortable silences she’d feel so nervous in if it were with anybody else.

She is his, he decides, and he is helplessly hers.

“Didn’t tell you when I first saw you but, you look stunning.”

She looks over at him, her eyes gleaming and lips tugged upward at his words.

“Yeah?”

His lips tug upward, too, in the same way they did earlier today in the break room, and it amazes her how something so small could mean so much to her.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, his eyes soaking her all in, still convinced she’s a dream he hasn’t woken up from. “You always do.”

She blushes, reaching forward to place the vase onto the windowsill above her sink. She can feel his eyes on her still, refusing to break away from her, and it makes her feel like the only woman in the world. And maybe she is — at the very least, the only woman in Harry’s.

She walks over to where he stands so irresistibly — so tall and so handsome, with a chest she so desperately wants to make a home out of and kiss at until she has nothing left but the burning of his skin on her own.

And as she stands before him, neither of them have anything to say because in times like these, their breaths are taken away and all they can process is how close they are to each other.

Her hands graze over his chest ever so slightly, hesitant to touch him the way she’s been shamefully aching to, afraid to push him away. But she can hear his breath hitch in his throat and can see his pecs tighten beneath her fingertips, and she lets out an uneven breath. He likes it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” She whispers, her breath fanning his neck and she swears she can see his eyes fighting to stay open.

Her hands graze up to the dip of his collarbones, her thumbs running along the sides of his throat. And to give her more access, Harry dips his head back, overstimulated by the feeling of it all.

“To touch me?”

His voice is strained and croaked, borderline delirious. And though his eyes are fluttering closed as her fingers now run along the shape of his shoulders and up the sides of his neck, dancing along his jawline, he can see her bite down on her bottom lip and it makes his heart hurt, in the best way possible.

Her eyes gleam as her fingers twist around the chain on his neck.

“It’s been all I could think about since I met you.”

His head falls back against the wall, the smallest of whimpers falling from his practically drooling mouth.

God, everything about her drives him wild. He has so completely lost himself in her, he can’t even remember his own name. He can’t even remember who he was just twenty seconds ago, much less who he was before he met her, and it’s something so new he can’t grasp the reality of it.

Her hands all over him is a feeling he can’t put into words, and one he certainly can’t hide.

He is falling.

And falling.

It doesn’t take them too long to figure out how similar they are despite their differences, certainly not after downing half a bottle of wine mixed with being so incredibly drunk on each other.

Y/n confided in him about her past — about how her nervous habits have never made her feel like she never had a true sense of belonging because everywhere she went, she was constantly kicked out. She’s had such unfathomable lows that she’d lock herself in her room for weeks on end, forcing herself quiet, because even she was sick of hearing herself.

And as Harry listened to her speak about all the cruel, heartless things that have been said to her, he couldn’t help but feel understood despite the feeling of guilt throbbing in his gut, for he had done what everybody else did not just one day ago.

Harry confided in her, too, about how he had always been left out because he always managed to bring down everybody else’s mood. He told her things he hadn’t told anybody else because he had nobody else to tell them to — told her about all the drugs he’s taken and all the other toxic habits he’d pursued in a poor, desperate attempt to become emotional.

Then, they talked about their parents — a conversation so barren and so untouched, it was almost impossible to talk about.

Y/n grew up with parents who didn’t understand her, because who could? Even when she was little, barely forming an identity and her only concept of friendship being imaginary ones, her parents would tell her that she was embarrassing herself. She’ll always remember the look on her mother’s face at a New Years Eve party when she said, “I just can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

Harry grew up with absent parents — absent in a sense that they were around, just never really there. His parents hardly acknowledged him, hardly ever spoke to him, and when they did it felt so forced, like an obligation they couldn’t find their way out of. He’ll never forget the way they looked at him, like he wasn’t even there, like they didn’t even want him to be.

It makes them question just how strongly the universe works in their favor.

Because what seems to be the first time in her life, Y/n has found something only made for her, a place where nobody else belongs, and it wouldn’t have brought her here if she had kept herself locked away, rotting in her self pity, refusing to let anybody in for all the rest of her years.

And for what seems to be the first time in his life, Harry feels he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the person he’s supposed to be with, and it wouldn’t have brought him here if all the wine, all the blunts, and all the pills did what he so desperately wanted out of them all those years ago.

They had spent their whole lives trying to make something out of themselves when they were always enough, because they were enough for each other, and each other was what they were made for.

“So you’re saying that all this time, we’ve been the exact same person?” Y/n chuckles, because though their conversation was so serious, the mood was still as lighthearted as everything else between them.

“Peculiar habits, a history of toxic behavior, no friends, and shitty parents? Yeah, sounds like it.”

Y/n laughs, shaking her head.

“Here’s to nobody liking us.” Y/n raises her glass.

“Here’s to nobody liking us.” Harry repeats, raising his own. “Except for each other.”

And they clink.

Maybe they shouldn’t have finished that entire bottle of wine to themselves, but they did.

What started off in the kitchen made its way to the living room, both sat beside each other on Harry’s sofa with their heads hung back, Y/n cracking jokes and humming along to the songs on her playlist, and Harry admiring her from the distance.

They both have their last glasses of wine nearly gone, holding them upon their thighs, taking their final sips throughout the hour and with every one they take, they feel closer somehow.

Y/n’s giggling about how Harry won’t stop looking at her, and though she can’t see it between her squinting eyes and their gaze set upon the ceiling wall, he smiles.

He can’t help it — looking at her like it’s the last time he ever will though it’s only the beginning, but he doesn’t ever want to forget the way he feels whenever he does. This is the only good feeling he’s ever had, and even when she’s not in view, he wants to hold onto it ‘til his dying day.

“You’re my favorite person.” Is all he says, his lips fallen. “My only person.”

Y/n finally turns her head over to him, now, so that her eyes are locked on his. And she wishes he can understand the feeling in her heart and the way it’s beating so eroticly, but she doesn’t, because it’s so overwhelming and too much of a good thing for her to make sense of.

Never in her life has she felt so good, yet here she is, feeling even better than that, all because of one person she met nearly two years ago.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He nods, because he understands, and they both look away from each other again.

They’re getting lost in the music and lost in the feeling of the air that surrounds them — so full of unexplainable things that leave them wanting more than they did before, breathing in nothing but longing and desire.

And it isn’t until one of Y/n’s favorite songs comes on that the comfortable silence between them is all but broken, in the most beautiful way possible.

“Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park. I used to think I would meet somebody there.”

Harry stiffens beside her, his fingers instinctively curling tighter around his glass of wine — speechless and breathless as the sound of her voice intoxicates his already drunken state of mind, the room now spinning but only because of her.

“Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money.”

This is heaven, he feels. It has to be because things this beautiful don’t exist in worlds so cruel, in worlds so evil.

Things this beautiful don’t belong here.

Y/n doesn’t belong here. She’s too perfect for her own good — too perfect for a world that refuses to believe in such things, but he does. He does because how can he deny the woman that’s sitting right before him? How can he deny the sound of her voice in a dim lit room, soaked in red wine, existing only to be heard by him?

“Time — curious time — gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn’t see? And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string — tying you to me?”

Y/n’s raising her glass to her lips as the lyrics pause but god, if Harry has to watch her lips touch anything but his, it’s going to be the end of him. And right as her mouth puckers for a taste, Harry reaches his hand out to grab the bowl of the glass, lifting it from her fingers before setting it down upon the coffee table beside them.

She tilts her head at him with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, watching as Harry practically crawls over to her until his thighs are pressed to her knees and his hands are at either side of her waist.

“You’re so pretty.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him but it hides behind her flushed cheeks and growing smile.

“Harry —”

“Sh.” He shushes her, laying his forehead against the top of her chest, slithering his arms to her lower back, and Y/n giggles. “Keep going.”

So, she does — keeps singing the very words she had been so hopelessly trying to put a face to, to the very man that holds her to them.

And she’s falling.

She feels it now more than ever as he practically buries himself into her, rocking her gently back and forth like she’s some sort of delicacy he wouldn’t dare to break. Everything about it is so intimate, so real, so raw — no boundaries, all walls crumbled down so vulnerably, feeling each other so deeply.

She wonders if he feels it, too.

And oh, does he feel it — her words, his touch, the room fading to nothingness. It is just them — no fears, no doubts, no resentment — together in this moment, becoming one, letting everything else simply slip through their fingertips.

Harry rests his lips upon her collar bone, settling them against her sweltering skin. He can feel her heart beating against his mouth, and it feels right.

“Spend the night with me.”

Y/n stiffens.

She wants to spend the night, she does, more than anything else she could ever want. It’s been her long-lived dream to be cuddled to his chest, feeling him breathe against her, burning in his touch until slumber clouded her senses; waking up beside him in the early morning and hearing that voice so rasped and far gone.

But all of her dreams are so innocent, so pure, and so holy by him, and what if that’s not where his head is? Between all the drinks, all the touching, and all the stolen stares, it could be somewhere so far out of her reach, somewhere so far away from her own, and it’ll absolutely ruin her if that’s all he wants out of her.

Harry must have felt her uneasiness because he’s quick to lift his head from her chest.

“No, no. Not like that, Y/n. I promise. Never even —”

Had sex.

He was so close to saying it to reassure her, but he couldn’t — he couldn’t because if he did, she’d have every reason to believe he was thinking of such things when it was the farthest thought from his mind. Really, he wants her to spend the night because once she leaves, she’s all he’s going to think about and all he’s going to want beside him. He probably would have ended up on her doorstep at two in the morning, dazed and confused, all because he never wants to be away from her.

She is so close, and he wants her so bad.

“Had a girlfriend.”

He settles for something less straightforward but just as truthful and vulnerable. Besides, he figured it’s something she should know because if he ever fucks something up, or fails to do right by her, even if it’s unintentional, maybe she’d understand why.

He’s absolutely terrified that he’s going to be the first one to start a fight and not know how to fix it, or be the first one to make the other cry and not know why. He’s done it before, with Celeste. And though what he has with Y/n is so different and so much more real than what he ever had with her, he still managed to break her heart enough for her to leave him. He wouldn’t blame Y/n if she ever decides to, too.

Y/n looks down at him with eyes full of sorrow. He’s not asking for pity, she knows that, but how he’s gone his whole life without ever being loved, she’ll never understand.

It’s all he deserves.

And she can’t help but feel like she’s the least deserving person to be the first because she knows, down to the very pit of her soul, that Harry isn’t like the others — that Harry wouldn’t kiss her, ask her out on a date, and snuggle himself into her the way he is right now just to get a proper shag — yet she convinced herself that maybe, somewhere so deeply within him, he is that kind of person, and that is so far from fair.

She runs her fingers through his hair.

“I’ll only spend the night under one condition.”

He blinks at her.

“Anything.”

She leans forward to rub her nose against his, a soft smirk set on her lips as she kisses him gently.

She giggles before pulling away, sliding out from underneath him and though the small pout on Harry’s face would send her right back to him, she chooses to stand beside him with an open-palmed hand sticking out before her, her eyes glistening, her lips bitten.

“Dance with me.”

And god, how could he ever say no to that face?

He lets out a breathy chuckle as he hitches his glasses up — the closest thing to a laugh Yn has ever heard out of him, and it makes her want to cry. And he shakes his head softly before grabbing onto her hand, letting her lift him from the sofa.

“You drive me wild.”

She hums, lifting his hand up to her lips.

She guides him behind the coffee table, grasping both of his hands in hers, and though she fully intends on pulling him to her and leading the rest of the way, he beats her to it.

He’s got her pressed up against him, one hand hooked to her lower back and the other holding hers between their shoulders, swaying them side to side as they dance together in slow circles.

They’re at peace. Together, they can do the most cliche of things — make a dance floor out of a living room, make a night out of a date — and not feel anything but pure, genuine happiness out of it.

They don’t need anything or anyone outside of each other, and that’s what makes it all the better.

“Hm…” Y/n hums, resting the side of her cheek against his chest. She feels at home like this. “Quite the dancer, you are.”

His thumb rubs at her wrist, and he shakes his head.

“Only for you.”

Y/n doesn’t go home the following night.

Or the night after that.

This must be the third time Y/n’s set off the smoke alarm.

And in any other circumstance, she probably would have given up and called Harry’s favorite take out to spare him from a night of potential food poisoning, but Harry’s spent the past two weeks telling her how much he wished Thanksgiving was a British holiday, and now that it’s late November and Harry has spent the past three months of their relationship doing all the cooking, she can’t quit him now.

Even as she’s flinging around the oven mitts trying to waft the smoke from the open oven out of her face, she still can’t quit.

The things she does for love, she fucking hates it.

“Pretty, you’re going to burn our flat down.” Harry chuckles from behind her, his hand landing on the small of her back as he rubs gently at it. “Let me take it from here, love. I’ve got it.”

Y/n’s quick to close the oven door back shut and press her back to it, practically flinging herself away from Harry’s touch as she does so. She’s panting and sweating and her hair is an absolute wreck, yet she refuses Harry’s helping hand.

This is his day, and she is his girl, and she just has to do this.

“No, no, mister! Don’t you even think about it! I’ve got it all under control.”

Her lips are pursed for the simple reason that she knows it’s an absolute monstrosity — she’s burnt two rounds of yams, somehow turned mashed potatoes into soup, and overcooked the green bean casserole to a cripst — but at least it’s all been made with love.

And she assumes Harry doesn’t believe her, either, because he’s trying his absolute hardest to not laugh at her, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Pretty,” Harry laughs, facepalming himself before his hand cups around his mouth to try to stifle the sounds. “You — you closed the oven door again and it’s —”

“Fuck!”

She turns herself around before ripping the oven back open, coughing and groaning as a cloud of smoke hits her face for the millionth time tonight before reaching in to grab yet another round of burnt yams.

She slams it onto the stove, ripping her oven mitts off and throwing them onto the counter beside her.

Harry feels bad, he does, because she’s been slaving away in their kitchen for the past five hours and she’s the farthest from satisfied she could possibly be, but he can’t deny that he loves seeing her like this — so passionate, all cute and grumpy just to make him happy.

Oh, how he loves her so, even when she burns his beloved yams.

He kisses the back of her head.

“Looks incredible, baby. Don’t need anything else than what you’ve got.” His lips move to her cheek. “Let me set the table while you put everything in dishes, yeah? Starving.”

He lights two pumpkin spice candles upon the table, pouring two glasses of their favorite wine, and setting down two plates for each of them because they haven’t eaten all day in preparation for their dinner, and they’re both at their wits end.

Y/n sets dinner up buffet style along the kitchen island — the roasted young turkey set in the middle surrounded by bowls of corn, mashed potatoes, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, and dinner rolls.

Though she’s far from being a good cook, she does feel slightly better when she sees it all set up in autumn-colored dish sets. It could have been a lot worse, it really could have been a lot worse.

And it’s the look on Harry’s face that makes the past five hours of hell so incredibly worth it.

His fists are on the kitchen table, his body leaning forward as his eyes marvel at the sight in front of him. Autumn has always been his favorite season, and he’s always been so fond of the concept of Thanksgiving — spending time with his loved ones, reminiscing all his favorite memories throughout the year, delving into his favorite foods.

He’d contemplated making a Thanksgiving of his own for the past couple years, but whenever it came down to it, he realized he didn’t have much to be thankful for, and he didn’t have any memories to look back on. So, he never did.

But now, he has so much to be thankful for — so many unforgettable memories, a lifetime of happiness, and a loved one to finally celebrate with — all of which are standing right before him.

Nobody else in the world would ever do the things she does for him. She is one and a million, his little miracle, and the absolute light of his life.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

She shrugs, a teasing grin playing on her lips.

“Once or twice.”

She loads their plates up with everything she made — giving Harry extra stuffing, of course — before she makes her way back to the kitchen table, sitting across from the very man she’s thankful for this year.

She didn’t realize how good it would feel — to spend a holiday with Harry, even though it’s illegitimate — but it’s warm and homely and everything else in between. It’s no wonder she falls more in love with him everyday, and no wonder she wants to spend all of her days exactly where they are now, until they’re old and grumpy and can hardly stand the sight of each other anymore.

Y/n lifts up her wine glass.

“This year, I’m thankful for being yours and only yours. I’m nothing without you.”

Harry lifts up his wine glass.

“This year, I’m thankful for you and your love. You’re everything to me.”

They clink, they eat, they kiss, and they do it all over again.

“You know, I don’t think guys are meant to do this kind of stuff.”

Y/n’s sitting across from Harry on their queen-sized bed, their legs crossed Indian style as Harry’s hand is spread out before her, Y/n grasping onto his fingers with her own as she paints a thin layer of black nailpolish onto his nails.

It didn’t take Y/n much convincing to get Harry in this position. She knows full well that all she has to do is pout and cross her arms for him to give her what she wants. And normally, she doesn’t use his weaknesses against him — she doesn’t think it’s right, and he’d never do it to her — but this is something so harmless that she gave herself a free pass.

Plus, she knows he’d look hot with his nails painted black.

“Shut up, H.” She giggles, shaking her head. “They’ll look really good, I promise. Besides, it could be our little secret.”

He can’t lie, it does feel nice to be pampered like this. Her hands are soft and it tickles when she goes finger-to-finger, and it’s a damn good excuse to touch her and look at her for minutes on end. She’s got her eyebrows pinched together as she moves his fingers around, trying to get into every edge and crevice, and he can see it in her eyes how much she’s truly enjoying herself right now.

His eyes take a peek at his nails and it’s not nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be. They make him feel… different, but in a way that can only be described as holding a certain power he never knew he had.

Guys normally don’t do this kind of stuff, but he is, and he looks damn good while doing it.

And as Y/n takes both of his hands out to her and starts to blow on them, his eyes flutter with amusement. Maybe, just maybe, he’d let her do this again.

She pokes one of her nails into his.

“They should be dry now.”

And though his nails are finished, Y/n still hasn’t let go of his hands, and her eyes haven’t left his fingers. Instead, she’s marveling over them — eyes gleaming, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, her digits twisting at his rings.

He smirks at her.

“Look good?”

She nods, lifting one of his hands up higher towards her neck.

“They look really good, H. So good, I —” She doesn’t even let herself finish before she brings his pointer and middle finger up and into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and proper sucking on them like she was born for it.

Harry’s breath gets locked in his throat, his entire demeanor changing as he broadens his shoulders and tenses his chest, his eyes darkening and hawking over every move of her mouth, every swipe of her tongue.

She’s moaning — whimpering and whining like she’s been left starving and he’s her first proper meal in weeks. And nothing’s even started yet.

He reaches his free hand over to her face, petting her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“That’s it, my pretty girl. Just like that.”

She pops them out of her mouth, her lips red and wet and eyes glossy with lust. And Harry watches as she grabs a hold of his wrist and guides his two, sloppy and dripping fingers down her neck and between her breasts, stretching down the collar of her shirt, leaning back for him to have the most perfect view.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, the hand that was once on her cheek reaching over to grope at her thigh. “Is this what I’m going to get every time you paint my nails black? You being such a good girl for me?”

She nods her head, gulping.

“Y — yeah.” She shudders as the hand on her thigh inches up with every passing second. “Told you they’d look so good.”

He chuckles darkly before he reaches his hand up to grab at the base of her throat. It’s her favorite, when he takes her breath away like this, because all she can feel is him.

And right now, he doesn’t want her to feel anything else.

He pushes her down until her back is fully pressed against the mattress, and he crawls until he’s above her on his hands and knees, his fingers still squeezing at her throat.

Such a pretty neck, such a pretty face. And it’s all his.

“Let’s see how good they look all over you, yeah?”

Harry hears something when he passes one of the vacant offices at work.

It’s a bloodcurdling sound, one he hasn’t ever heard before and one he wished he’d never heard at all, but he knows exactly what it is before he sees it.

He could never mistake the sound of his girl — it’s all he ever hears and he’s been around her long enough to know the sound of her very breath. She’s a part of him — he feels her in his bones when she’s close and knows exactly what she’s feeling at every moment in time.

But what he sees is worse than he could have ever imagined.

Y/n’s sobbing something so awful her face is nearly blue, lips trembling and eyes all but swollen shut, shaking and convulsing upon the chair below her.

And Harry doesn’t know what to do.

His brain is working at a million miles an hour and he can’t keep up — doesn’t know left from right, up from down — because all he can feel is the overwhelming sense of heartbreak and his world crumbling out from underneath him.

He practically runs to her — tripping over the legs of office chairs, ramming his hips into the corners of the table, on the verge of collapse with every step he takes. Yet nothing stops him from falling to his knees before her, letting his hands grab a hold of her soaken cheeks, having his thumbs wipe away her endless tears.

“Pretty —”

He can’t even get a word out without wanting to cry, but he’s never done it before. He wouldn’t know how to even if he wanted to, but it’s there — that lump in his throat, that tightening of his chest, that burning in his eyes, it’s all there.

“What happened, baby? Talk to me.”

And though she really didn’t want Harry to see her this way, she can’t help but clasp her shaking fingers around his wrists, holding him there because she doesn’t know what she would do if he were to leave her now.

What happened today — what happened to her — is just further proof that the only person she can trust and the only person she can truly be herself with is Harry. The world is so vengeful and so deceiving towards her, for reasons so unknown, but it’s brought her to the very man kneeling between her thighs, with eyes full of unshed tears, wanting her and loving her even when nobody else does. And if he were to walk away from her now, though she knows he wouldn’t dream of it, she’d lose every last bit of hope she has, and she wouldn’t be able to survive it.

She needs him so badly it hurts.

“Can’t —” She shakes her head as she sniffles back a sob. “Can’t tell you.”

She can’t because she doesn’t want him to see just how bad it can get for her — see how her differences are so obvious to everything and everyone around her. It never ends. It’s been like this for as long as she can remember and she’s so scared and so afraid that if Harry sees it, too, he’d do the very thing that happened to her twenty minutes ago.

But even through her waterfall eyes, she can see just how devastated Harry looks at her words.

“Pretty, you can tell me anything. You know that. Can’t —” He shakes his head, gulping, one of his hands rubbing at the back of her head. “Can’t see you like this and not know how to fix it.”

She pulls her hands away from her tight hold on him so that they can cover her face — too ashamed for the world to see how much it’s broken her down, too humiliated to face somebody so much better than her.

“It — it’s s — so emb — embarrassing!”

She’s hiding from him. Harry hates when she hides from him.

“No, please don’t — please don’t do that.” He practically begs as his hands reach back up to hers, pulling them away from her face and intertwining their fingers together. “It’s me, baby. It’s me. You don’t have to do that with me. Please, don’t do that with me.”

He’s got their hands held on top of her knees, the pads of his thumbs stroking her palms, his lips pressing to the top of her exposed thighs because it’s the only thing he can think of doing right now.

He’s never done this — never had anybody break and shatter before his very eyes, much less somebody he loves — and he is so bad with words and so bad with dealing with his own feelings he wouldn’t even know where to start dealing with hers, but he does know that he can be the most affectionate boyfriend there is towards her, and he hopes that’s a start.

But he doesn’t have a single clue just how good it feels for Y/n to be loved by him when she feels so hated. He is the only person that really, truly matters to her, so to feel him touch her and kiss her when she’s at her absolute lowest, is all she really needs.

Harry notices her breath starting to shallow and her sobs fading to distant cries every time he presses his lips to her skin, and despite how much of a mess he is, it warms his heart to know that they share a love that can overcome anything life decides to throw at them.

He reluctantly lifts his head up to look at her properly, now. His glasses are all fogged and wet but he refuses to take them off the way he normally would with her, because that would require him letting go of her hands, and for both of their sanity, that’s not something he can do right now.

He’s crying.

And though his face is as stone cold and tight as always, his eyes, Y/n notices, are unlike anything she’s ever seen. They’re so undeniably broken, and her heart crumbles into a million pieces just at the sight of it.

She feels it’s all because of her.

“The new recruit, Mason, he —”

She sucks in a breath, trying to find the right words that could possibly explain the amount of damage that he caused her without sounding so weak and pathetic. It wouldn’t have hurt her as badly if it wasn’t something that’s happened to her more and more over the years, beating her down further and further each time, digging deeper and deeper into her already hollowed out chest.

And all Harry can think about is how one name, one person, has made this much of a mess out of her — one that she has to see every single day, that she has to speak to in order to get her work done, that she has to face time and time again.

He’s never hated so much in his life.

“What did he do to you?” He whispers it, afraid that one wrong tone of voice or one wrong word can tear her apart all over again. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

She shakes her head, her eyes casted down at their intertwined hands.

“Laughed at me.”

Her voice is so small and so sad, it’s the most heartbreaking sound Harry has ever heard. And he feels like he failed her.

He knows full well that somebody laughing at her and degrading her, hurts her more than any physical pain she could possibly feel. Even if Mason had touched her, it wouldn’t have made her like this — so afraid, so self-conscious, and so successfully ruined.

“In front of the whole team, just — just kept poking fun at me. Mocking me. Speaking about me as if I wasn’t there. Making fun of my nervous stutter and — and talking over me like, ‘oh, and she keeps going.’ and ‘wow, it just never ends, does it?’ and making everyone laugh at me.”

He should have been there. All he can think about is how he should have been by her side the way any boyfriend should — should have been there to protect her, to keep his eyes on anybody who dared to even look at her the wrong way, to never let her out of his sight.

They’re on the same team and he just should have fucking been there.

“Said he’d take bets with people to see how long it would take me to shut up and I wanted to tell him so badly that the more he says those things the more I ramble because it makes me nervous and I don’t know what else to do but apart of me — apart of me felt like he already knew that and kept going so that I could keep going so that he can keep making a fool out of me.”

Her bottom lip quivers again, and so does his, and Harry has had enough.

He can’t keep seeing her like this because who knows what his love for her could make him do. He’s already broken so many boundaries just from taking one look at her, he can’t even imagine what comes next, or what would come next, if he has to see it again.

With every last bit of courage he has, Harry lets go of her hands and brings his wrist up behind his glasses, wiping away the remnants of his tears, before bringing his hands back down to her knees.

“I’m going to tell Jeremy that you’re not feeling well and that you needed to go home, okay?”

She nods with a pout on her face because god, how badly does she want to crawl into their bed and hibernate beneath the covers until the weekend’s over.

“I’ll help you finish up whatever you need me to, and I’ll meet you back at our flat once I’m done.” He hooks his pointer finger under her chin, kissing away the pout his heart just can’t handle the sight of. “I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”

He didn’t have to tell her, because she already knew.

And it’s so hard for him to leave her like this, but he has to. He has to because she can’t stay here and face the same team that just spit on her name and pretend everything is okay, when everything is so far from it.

He kisses her one last time.

“Go home. I’ll be there soon.”

Harry wasn’t looking for Mason.

He really wasn’t, though every fiber in his body instinctively wanted to hunt him down and brutalize him until he was nothing but a pile of broken bones and battered flesh. His fingers ached for it, but he was more focused on getting home to Y/n so that she didn’t have to be alone — so that he can hold her, and kiss her, and remind her that the only reason the world keeps trying to knock her down is because she’s too perfect to be existing in it.

But as he stands in the copy room to help finish one of Y/n’s major projects, that’s exactly who he sees.

He walks in, whistling the same tune he does every other day, one hand holding a pile of papers and the other slinging the office keys by their lanyard. And as he occupies the empty copy machine next to Harry’s, he lifts his chin up as if to greet him on this truly horrible, unforgiving day.

Harry tenses on sight, his shoulders straightening up and his fingers tightening around the folder that now holds everything he needed to make his way out of here.

But how could he, when Mason is right here?

He takes one last glance at Mason and one last breath before he slowly and steadily makes his way to the door, shutting it closed, before he says anything at all. And really, he doesn’t even fully know what he wants to say, but he does know that he can’t let him get away with the things he’s done, or the words he’s said, or the pain he’s caused to the one and only person Harry cares about.

He’s never been one for confrontation — never been one to project his feelings onto people, or make his problems into somebody else’s — but fuck, it’s Y/n, and his love for her is so different than any other emotion he’s ever felt. It makes him hate, it makes him dangerous, and it makes him something so beyond himself when he sees her the way he did not just three hours ago.

And who would he be if he didn’t do what he knows is right?

“I’m not an emotional guy, Mason.” Harry starts, his fingers twisting and knotting against his palms, trying so hard to keep himself together. But this is too small of a room to carry around so much anger, so much loathing for one person, and the narrowing space between them is building so much tension Harry feels like he’s drowning in all of it. “But I am today.”

Mason’s full attention is on Harry now, fully suspicious of his actions and words, confused as to why the temperature in the room has suddenly fallen below zero.

“I’ve got a lot of feelings… never really learned how to express them. Got a lot of resentment, a lot of anger, a lot of love for my girl.”

Harry takes his glasses off, closing them shut before stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“Got a lot of all three right now. But if it ever came down to it, I’d do what’s right by Y/n and I wouldn’t think twice about it. Can’t say that for anybody else, except for her.”

And it’s true.

She’s the only thing in existence that can get to this side of him. He’s been so visibly numb his entire life, it didn’t matter how angry he was, or how hurt he was, or how depressed he was, he was so incurably lifeless despite all the vulnerability scrambling inside him. Yet seeing Y/n practically fall apart between his palms set something so deeply within him, he cried alongside her.

And now, he’s rolling up the sleeves of his jacket.

“You understand what I’m saying, correct?”

There’s a pregnant pause in the air, and Harry’s left starving to feast on this poor excuse of a man.

“Look, mate —” Mason finally turns to him, smiling so obnoxiously it makes Harry’s stomach churn. Y/n’s spent the whole day crying and Mason is smiling, laughing, even, like he doesn’t have a care or a clue in the world that he’s broken somebody down so badly — somebody so innocent, somebody so undeserving. “I’m a jokester, alright? Whatever I said to her, it wasn’t personal. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit — make some jokes, crack some smiles. All innocent here, yeah? It’s all good.”

Out of all the things he could have said, he chose all the wrong words.

And Harry just can’t understand how somebody could be so heartless and cruel and be so completely unaware of it — how someone could turn something already so foul into something so nauseatingly evil and do it with shrugged shoulders and a shit-eating grin.

His palms twitch.

But it isn’t until Mason pats his hand against Harry’s shoulder like he’s the one that’s being let off the hook, that Harry is pushed over the edge.

He should be on his knees, begging for mercy, begging for forgiveness, writhing in fear.

He grabs a hold of Mason’s wrist so tightly his fingers turn numb under the pulse of the very man he so desperately wants to demolish. And before he can even process what’s happening, before he has time to suppress the blackout rage crashing down on him, the fist of his right hand knocks Mason down cold.

It happened so fast, Harry couldn’t even keep up. One second he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with the enemy and the next, he’s towering above him with knuckles covered in blood that isn’t his.

“Man, what the fuck?!” Mason cries from the ground, his hand reaching up toward the side of his already swollen and busted eye, cupping the wound as if to keep the pain from spreading and the blood from dripping. “You just fucking hit me!”

Harry’s panting and shaking and still has yet to finish what he’s started.

“My girlfriend is not a joke. She is not somebody for you to pick on when you want to crack some smiles and she is not a punchline for you to use when you have nothing funny to say.”

The tone of his voice is such a contradiction to the rest of him that if anybody else were watching, they wouldn’t understand why he did what he had just done. Because he’s far from yelling, far from screaming, far from anything other than the way he’d talk in any other circumstance, yet he doesn’t care. For the first time in his life, he just doesn’t care, because what he did was enough.

He rolls his jacket sleeves back down, the side of his wrist wiping the sweat from his top lip.

“You could have done anything else, but you didn’t.”

His bruised and busted hand takes his glasses out of his pocket, unfolding the temples and sliding them back onto the bridge of his nose. And he doesn’t bother taking another look at Mason — doesn’t even want to — before he hooks his fingers around the doorknob.

“If you ever make a joke out of her again, I’ll kill you. That’s it. Just like that. I’ll kill you.”

When Harry gets home that night, he’s got his hands full of all Y/n’s favorite things.

Not only does he have two bags of her favorite take out, but he’s also got a pint of her favorite ice cream, a heated blanket she’d been eyeing whenever they walked down Bond Street, and a bottle of the sweetest wine he could find at the liquor store.

And when she walks to the front door to greet him, wearing nothing but underwear and one of his favorite sweatshirts, he realizes that he couldn’t imagine a single day not coming home to her, or loving her, or protecting her from all the bad that’s been chewing on her and spitting her out.

“What’s all this?” She smiles softly at him, reaching to take some of the bags out of his trembling hands.

“A peace offering.” He whispers so quietly, Y/n almost doesn’t hear it.

He knows what he did was right, but what he doesn’t know is if this will make her see him differently. Because what he did was not the Harry she fell in love with, and maybe it’ll drive her so far away she’ll never have to see him again.

But he’s praying, down to the very depths of himself, that she’ll understand.

“What?” She tilts her head at him, “What do you mean?”

His eyes fall to his knuckles, that are still scarred and busted from before. And as her eyes follow his gaze down upon them, she gasps.

“Baby —”

“I had to do it, Y/n.” He whimpers, his eyes closing. “He made you cry, I had to do it.”

And later that night, after they ate everything Harry had brought home until they could barely get up from the sofa, Y/n kissed at his knuckles, one by one.

He’d get his knuckles bloody every single day if it meant getting his hands full of all the love he has to offer her. He’d cry, and cry, and cry if it meant Y/n doesn’t have to face the world alone. He’d go against himself in every way, in every conceivable notion, just to make her smile the very smile he’s looking at right now.

She is stronger than any drug, stronger than any other pain, any other happiness, any other feeling he has ever felt. Because now, he is so much more than he could ever imagine himself being, and all it took was her.

She is his favorite person, his only person — his little miracle and the absolute light of his life, even after all this time, and he couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

And it was then, he knew.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles preference #emotionless!harry

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boredfanwrites · 3 years

Text

Buddie #1

There is not a bone in my body that can accept that in any other universe they wouldn't be perfect together. Post 4x14 so SPOILERS for that. This got so much longer than I thought it would be. Sorry in advance, there's much more under the cut.

· Eddie tells him about the will. Chris goes to Buck if anything happens to Eddie. Which it very nearly did.

· It causes Buck to actually stop and think things through before rushing into danger.

· The rest of the team question it while Eddie's recovering but he just says there's someone relying on him now.

· They take it to mean Taylor - well Chimney and Albert do, Hen and Bobby are more clued in.

· Buck talks about Eddie and Chris like he did when they quarantined together - like they're living together again.

· They are.

· Buck moved in to help Eddie and his recovery, with Ana stepping in when he was on shifts - even if she tended to undo everything Buck had done.

· He tells himself it's because she's not used to the way he and Eddie do things - yes that one singular bowl and plate live in the lower cupboard, it's so Eddie can reach them easily. Chris always picks the movie on movie nights, Eddie and Buck alternate when he's gone to bed.

· Eddie is stubborn as always, but has managed to allow Buck to help him dress and shower - Ana is very much not allowed, despite her protests they're barely in a relationship.

· Eddie explains to Buck that yes, they've been together for six months but they've not really been togetherand he quietly admits that he regrets telling Chris so soon.

· Buck calms him and says that it was right to introduce Chris to the idea of Eddie dating, but yeah, maybe it wasn't smart to spring Ana on him so early - especially because she decided she had to be a bigger part of his life now he was aware.

· Chris manages to get to the station once while Buck is on shift.

· Buck comes back to Albert making him pancakes and Chris scribbling with the things they keep for the school trips.

· 'What are you doing here, bud? Does your dad know?'

· 'Kinda.'

· 'What does kinda mean here?'

· 'He knows I wanted to see you. I don't think he knows that I came here.'

· Albert quickly jumps in saying he's texted Eddie and he and Carla are on their way, it just happens that the rig got back before they got there.

· Buck sits down with Chris, leaning his head on his arms and looks at the picture. It's him, Eddie and Buck with Carla and her husband in the background.

· 'What's wrong, Chris?'

· 'Ana.'

· 'Ok, what did she do?'

· 'Tried to get me to bath before I ate and then said I had to do my homework before TV time.'

· 'Buddy, you always have to do your homework before TV time.'

· 'But she tried to help me.'

· 'Your dad and I try our best to help you. She's a teacher, she's better use than us.'

· 'No that's not it.'

· Chris has tears in his eyes and a death grip on his crayon.

· 'She told the poor boy his handwriting was ineligible and took his pencil, tried to get him to tell her the answers and that she would write them for him.' Carla sighs.

· She stands with her arms open and Chris runs into them. Eddie looms behind them, looking sad.

· Well, neutral really, but Buck knows his micro expressions well enough.

· After that Ana is banned from the house in the afternoons/evenings and Carla steps back in. The new problem is Ana turning up when Buck has days off - their schedule was she was here when Buck wasn't, for multiple reasons.

· Ana's great, there's just something about her that Buck doesn't like and she definitely doesn't like Buck. Maybe it's because they're just opposites.

· Eddie tries to gently tell her that he barely gets to see Buck anymore and he needs it for his mental health. Ana starts pestering about the fact that he should want to see his girlfriend more than his best friend.

· It's one of their biggest fights and turns into a screaming match one night (Chris is at Hen's with Denny but Buck is hiding away in the guest room) where Eddie shouts that she had decided that she was his girlfriend without asking Eddie if that was what he wanted and she was suffocating.

· She leaves pretty quickly after that and Buck is incredibly happy as their paths never cross again.

· There's an emptiness settling in his chest when he finds out that the two are still together and are treating the relationship as though they're just dating again. He hates that he really doesn't like the idea that it's working out now that they're on even footing.

· He decides to push it away and starts getting reckless again. Taylor's hanging around the station more like she wants more from Buck, but he'd given up. She liked being chased and now that he's tired of it, she wants him. He knows she'll get bored if he shows interest again.

· It's interest he doesn't have. Eddie had called him Evan and told him he deserved more. How was he supposed to go back to normal after that?

· Why doesn't Eddie see how life changing that was?

· Eddie does. But in typical Eddie fashion, he pushes it deep down and replaces it with his content being with Ana. She makes his parents happy, which makes him happy. She gets along with Pepa and Isabel and his sisters, but they act a lot more familial with Buck.

· It makes sense, he tells himself - they've had years with Buck.

· Nothing really changes for Buck until TK and Judd find themselves in LA. Buck hastily explains to TK that he wasn't asking him out back in Austin, he just wanted a friend and really he wasn't attracted to guys.

· TK just straight up laughs at Buck.

· 'Buckley, you checked me, Carlos, and the barista out in the span of like five minutes. You're a little attracted to guys.'

· 'Wait, you mean you and Diaz ain't datin'?'

· Judd's question throws Buck through a loop.

· 'What? No...we're just...we're friends. Best friends.'

· TK laughs again, patting Buck on the shoulder.

· Once they're on their last day, TK takes Buck out for a drink like he'd promised. Buck tries to ignore the fact he's brought him to a gay bar.

· He gets hit on at least three times in an hour, not to mention the building collection of beers for both him and TK and he decides he doesn't actually mind it.

· 'Ok, I want you to do something for me. Scan the crowd and pick a guy, any guy, and tell me what you find attractive about him.'

· Buck picks out a shorter man, tanned skin and dark hair.

· 'He's got a cute smile.'

· 'Oh boy, you have a type.'

· 'Huh?'

· 'He looks like Eddie.'

· And he does. Like a Walmart version of Eddie though. He didn't laugh like Eddie, didn't have the same laugh lines. Or frown lines. His eyes weren't as warm when he met Buck's nor did he smile as fondly. And...

· 'Fuck.'

· 'You just now realizing your feelings for him?'

· 'Yeah. How did I not know?'

· 'Honestly, it was probably such a subtle shift. From what you've told me you've basically been a couple for a year and a half, so you didn't realize anything had changed for you.'

· 'I've never denied it.'

· 'I mean you clearly must have.'

· 'No. I meant that there have been so many times people assumed Eddie and I were a couple and I never denied it, I went along with it all.'

· 'Shit man, you had it bad before you even realized.'

· Buck groans as TK throws an arm around him, leaning against his shoulder.

· Things change after that. Buck is hesitant with physical touch with Eddie - it's his main love language and he needs to make sure he's not overdoing it and making Eddie uncomfortable.

· Eddie notices because of course, he does. Buck has pulled away from him for seemingly no reason. The second Eddie can dress, shower, and reach the high cabinets himself Buck is talking about going home.

· He is home.

· Eddie doesn't say it, he just hums, not really agreeing. He's gotten used to Buck being around and so has Chris. They'd easily fallen back into their quarantine routine and now Buck would be leaving again.

· A quick thought of getting shot again fills Eddie's head. Though this time it's nothing to do with his PTSD and more so that he doesn't want Buck to leave. So he exaggerates just a little.

· 'You know, my PTSD is still acting up. Maybe, you could stay until it balances out a little?'

· 'You'd want me to?'

· 'Yeah, you're great at getting me out and calming me and Christopher down.'

· 'You don't think Ana should start taking up some night shifts?'

· 'I don't really want her to deal with that side of me yet.'

· 'Okay.'

· 'Okay?'

· 'Yeah, I'll stay.'

· Eddie keeps an eye on Buck just as much as he keeps an eye on Eddie. He quickly realizes that Buck is holding in his own troubles. He knows from experience that Buck does not think his problems are anywhere near as bad as everyone else's. He has a lot of unlearning to do.

· Subtly, Eddie starts talking to him about his mental state, his worries, trying to let Buck know it's ok to do the same.

· When he and Ana inevitably break up not even a month later, it's Buck that he tells first.

· Buck, who has his back.

· Buck, who loves Christopher as his own.

· Buck, who is insecure about everything he does except saving people.

· Buck, who thinks he is unworthy and undeserving of love.

· Buck, who shows his love through acts of kindness and physical affection.

· Buck, who Eddie is so unapologetically in love with and probably has been for years.

· The revelation doesn't shock him like he thought it would. More so, it was a natural progression of their relationship.

· Friends. Best friends. Co-parents. Co-habiting. Partners. Partners.

· Eddie sees a future with Buck, a future he'd only ever seen with Shannon but it's so much brighter.

· He comes home from his first shift back - Buck wasn't working and offered to look after Christopher so Eddie knew he was safe - to find Buck on the couch, staring into an empty beer bottle.

· 'Hey?' it's broken and Eddie drops his things to rush over to him.

· 'You good?'

· 'No. I'm not.'

· Buck looks up, tears in his eyes, cheeks red and puffy.

· 'What's going on, Evan?'

· That's all it takes. He breaks. He babbles about watching Eddie die over and over in his dreams. How sometimes the shower will splash his face just so and he's thrown back with Eddie's blood on his face. How he was trying to get through it with Dr. Copeland but it wasn't helping.

· Nothing was helping.

· 'It's ok. I'm here, I'm okay.'

· 'You weren't. You died, Eds. You died on me.'

· 'You saved me.'

· 'What if I hadn't? I don't know a life without you anymore. I can't lose another person I love.'

· 'You love me?'

· 'Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?'

· Buck registers his words, quickly backing away from Eddie and tries to make a break for the open door. Eddie isn't letting him run away anymore. His wrist snakes around Buck's.

· 'Evan. I told you there wasn't anyone else I'd want to look after Christ. I told you you weren't expendable. I said that because I love you and you needed to hear it. You had to learn you deserved love. Love that Chris shows you. Love that I can show you. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.'

· Buck crumples in Eddie's arms, Eddie rocks him gently until the sobs subside.

· It's not an immediate or obvious change. There are still things the two need to work through.

· It's different but the same. There's more contact now; hugs, tactile hands on waists, and backs at work. Kisses in the bunk, soft and slow.

· It's new and exciting. Especially when they finally get together, officially and exclusively.

· Chris loves telling everyone about his two dads.

· Eddie and Buck are happier, closer.

· Buck had always been a Diaz. He'd always had a family who loved him. The big change was he got to love them both endlessly in return.

#buddie #911 #911 headcanons #buddie headcanons #evan buck buckely #911 fox #firefam #buckley diaz family #buddie fic #buddie drabble #christopher diaz #edmundo diaz #eddie diaz #eddie x buck #christopher diaz is an absolute angel #slow burn #oblivious idiots #oblivious buddie

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kcarreras · 3 years

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: JJ Maybank & Kiara Carrera Summary: It’s been a week since the Pogues arrived back in Kildare, after almost a month stranded on the island. Separated from her friends and under house arrest from her parents, JJ and Kie are finally reunited and forced to confront the consequences their time on the island has had on their relationship... Notes: This one is for @soldatstylesmaybank for hyping me up in her tags - I hope you like it! ❤️

The Pogues had been back in Kildare County for a week now.

Seven whole days since she’d last seen her friends - last seen him - on the dock after their ferry arrived back from the mainland.

Her parents had been waiting, and were on top of her almost instantly - hugging and smothering her as they led her to the back of her mom’s SUV without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

Since then, her parents had been monitoring her every move to the point she felt like she was under house arrest, and maybe she was.

She’d wake up in the mornings to her mom pulling open her curtains, sunlight flooding the room and rousing her from her sleep, pretending she was there to collect laundry... at 6am.

Her dad would check in with her at night before going to bed, pretending he was only stopping in to say goodnight, but really his motive was the same as her mom’s - he wanted to make sure she was still there.

Her homework was being dropped off at the house by her school guidance counsellor at the request of her parents, after they claimed she needed time to ‘adjust’ to being back. Really, they just didn’t want her having the opportunity to sneak off somewhere - or with someone - she shouldn’t be.

After five days of constant supervision and being on her best behaviour, she convinced them that she should at least be allowed to leave the house for work. Her dad finally agreed that she could cover some shifts at the Wreck, as long as he was there.

It wasn’t ideal, but she’d take what she could get at this point.

The next day was a quiet Sunday in late October, and with little tourists left in the area and the locals at home out of the way of the wind and rain that was rolling in from the coast, the Wreck was empty.

It was a little after 7pm when her dad made the decision to close early and send the other staff home. Once the last of the servers had left, he flipped the “OPEN” sign that hung in the door to “CLOSED”, and they began to clear up.

About 20 minutes later his cell rang, and it was Anna. Her tyre had blown out and she was stranded at the side of the road, a few miles out of town. Due to the weather, the roadside recovery company hadn’t been able to give her an estimated arrival time beyond “a few hours”, and so Mike said he’d go and pick her up.

At first he wanted Kiara to come with him, but she made a strong case for the fact that there was no use in both of them sitting in the car doing nothing for the whole journey there and back, when she could be here cleaning and boarding up the restaurant in case the weather worsened. Her father’s resolve was a lot weaker than her mother’s, who would have dragged her along anyway, and so he agreed.

He gave her the same lecture he always did when she worked a closing shift - make sure all the stoves are off, double-check the storm shutters are latched properly and don’t forget to turn all the lights off. She even jangled her keys in front of him, promising to remember to lock the door on her way out, and that she’d head straight home when she was done.

Her dad eventually left, and she locked the door behind him before heading into the cleaning closet to grab the mop and bucket.

Her dad had only been gone a few minutes when she heard the rap of knuckles against the door. Assuming he’d forgotten his keys or wallet, she huffed, dropping the mop back into the bucket - now full of hot water and citrus-scented floor cleaner - and headed to the door.

“I swear, Dad, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t-“ she began, but as she rounded the corner, the air was knocked out of her lungs.

It was JJ.

He was standing in front of the glass door, hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders shrugged up to his ears and his hood pulled over his head as the rain hammered down on top of him, dripping from the ends of his blonde hair that stuck out from under his hood and clung to his forehead.

“Shit,” Kie breathed out under her breath, subconsciously running her hands across her apron, smoothing it out across her thighs.

When she didn’t move immediately, JJ raised an eyebrow at her.

“Is there a secret password or some shit I don’t know about?”

His voice was muffled through the door, but she could still hear the humour in it.

When she still didn’t move, he spoke again, a little more serious this time.

“Seriously, Kie? Let me in, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the exaggeration, but he was only wearing a pair of long, dark boardshorts that hung to his knees and a washed-out, grey t-shirt with a flimsy navy jacket lying open over top - all of which was clinging to him like a second skin from the rain.

Normally she’d give him stick for being so inappropriately dressed for the weather, but she herself was wearing a pair of light-wash denim shorts and a lemon-coloured vest top with thin spaghetti straps, so she really had no room to judge.

She took another breath, bracing herself as she made her way across the wooden floor, boards creaking beneath her sneakers with every step. She knew the noise would be echoing around the empty restaurant, loud and obnoxious, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

She turned the key that was still in the lock and the door all but blew open into her as JJ tumbled in out of the elements.

“Finally, what took so long?” He asked, pulling his hood down and shaking his head like a wet dog, rain spraying from his dishevelled blonde head.

“Wow, JJ. Really?” Kie complained, stepping back out of his vicinity and wiping splashes off the bare skin of her arms.

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, he smiled, and something inside of her chest cracked open, and she felt some of her previous apprehension leave her body.

“Long time, no see,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Yeah. I almost forgot what you looked like,” she replied back in a similar tone, throwing the clean rag she was holding at him with a grin, before turning away from him.

“Please,” he scoffed jokingly, dragging the cloth across his face as he dried himself off.

“As if you could ever forget this face.”

Yeah, as if, Kiara thought to herself, all too seriously. Outwardly, though, she responded by giving him the middle finger over her shoulder as she continued to make her way back to her cleaning supplies.

“I know you struggle with the cursive,” she called to him, disappearing from view into the cleaning closet, “but you can read the sign that says we’re closed, right?”

“Yeah, I managed that one, thanks. I appreciate the concern, though,” he replied, pulling a stool out from the counter and perching himself upon it as she rummaged around in the closet.

“Luckily for me, I’m not here for the shrimp and grits. Unless…” he chanced his luck, but she stuck her head out of the closet for a second to scowl at him as she replied.

“Not a chance. Everything’s already been cleaned, I’m not firing it all up again to make you free food.”

“Worth a try,” he said with a shrug.

“So if it’s not the free food you’re here for, what is it?” Kiara asked him, her voice sounding distant from inside the closet.

“You,” he said, and she froze, her arm extended above her head as she reached up for another clean cloth and some spray.

After a moment she emerged from the closet empty handed, standing a few feet from him.

“Jay, we talked about this-” she began delicately, but he interrupted.

“No, actually, Kie, you talked. I just had to sit there and listen.”

Kie’s mind jolted her back to the last conversation they had before the ferry docked on the day they came home.

***

They were sitting together on a bench out on the deck, her head resting on his shoulder and their hands clasped together as they stared out to the approaching shore, the announcement signalling their arrival playing out overhead.

“So what happens now?” JJ had asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“What do you mean?” Kie had questioned back, lifting her head to look at him.

“Between you and me. I mean, these last few weeks... I don’t know. I guess I just thought things might be different.”

Kie thought back to the last three weeks - the lingering stares, the subtle but deliberate touches, their desire to be around each other all the time becoming more and more obvious as the days had gone by.

She didn’t remember exactly when things changed between them, but she did remember that last night they spent on the beach once everyone else was asleep.

She remembered the sound of his hushed laugh as it faded from his lips, his eyes shifting from piercing and glittering, to dark and wanting, as they fell from hers down to her lips, and back again.

She remembered the heavy breath he took when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nervous but excited for what might happen next.

She remembered her breath catching in her throat when he turned at the waist to face her, his hand reaching up to brush a stray curl back from her eyes, before trailing it down her jaw to rest on the side of her neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck as he leaned in.

Her eyes had fluttered closed, and she’d stopped breathing altogether when she felt his breath against her lips.

One of her hands had tugged on his t-shirt, the other pulling down on the back of his neck as she tried to close the minimal space left between them...

But then Pope had stumbled out from the shelter just a few meters along beach, cursing as he tripped over a piece of rogue driftwood in the dark, and they had sprung apart as though they were suddenly allergic to each other.

JJ had cleared his throat as Kiara combed her fingers through her hair, and they jumped to their feet as Pope asked them what they were still doing up.

They made their usual excuse about not being able to sleep, and Pope shrugged, still half asleep as he wandered off behind the tree line, informing them he was going to take a piss.

With the moment gone, they retreated in silence back under the cover of the shelter, unaware that the next time they’d be alone to discuss it, they would be getting ready to dock back in Kildare.

“JJ, I - I don’t really know what to say.”

“Well that’s easy, Kie. You just say how you feel.”

With the dock coming in to view, the sight of her mom and dad standing at the edge, she began to feel overwhelmed, as though she couldn’t distinguish one thought from another.

She knew things had changed between them, and she knew that her parents were going to be unsufferable - that she was probably going to get shipped straight back off the island to boarding school the first chance they got.

She panicked, at what that would mean for her and JJ, and she didn’t have enough time in the next 30 seconds to think it through.

“Kie, what’s wrong?” JJ asked as she abruptly pulled away from him and got to her feet.

“Nothing, I’m fine, it’s just...” she trailed off, and the look on his face as he stared up at her broke her heart in two.

“I think it’s best that we just keep things how they are between us.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and if she thought the look he had before was heartbreaking, it was nothing compared to this.

“Okay, but-” he began as his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed, but she cut him off.

“Look, Jay, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And these last few months have been crazy... and, y’know, being stranded on an island for three weeks? That shit can kinda fuck with your head. And so I just don’t know if we should let any of that change what we are to each other.”

She was rambling, and he was trying desperately to keep up, but the next minute the ferry shuddered as it made contact with the dock.

“Um, my parents are here. I should go,” Kie said, turning on her heels and practically running for the ramp.

“Kie! Wait a second,” he called, chasing after her, but other passengers on the ferry had begun to make their way in the same direction and a crowd formed between them. By the time JJ had pushed his way through, Kie was already disembarked and down on the dock.

“Kie!” he called after her, hands gripping the railing of the boat as she turned back to look at him. The rest of his friends, now also down on the dock, shouted for him to hurry his ass up, unaware of everything that had just unfolded.

Kie held his eyes for a second, before mouthing a silent, “I’m sorry,” and letting her parents lead her to the car.

***

He stood from the stool, and it screeched against the wooden floor as it slid back towards the counter, putting her nerves even more on edge.

“Look, I know your parents don’t want you to see me, or any of us for that matter. But, Kie, you can’t just ghost us, alright? No one’s heard from you since we got back.”

“That’s not true. You have.” Kiara argued weakly.

JJ scoffed, throwing his hands up.

“A text saying ‘Sorry, gotta dip for a bit,’ doesn’t count, Kie, and you know it.”

“That’s not all it said,” she replied, her voice even smaller now, her eyes dropping from his.

“No, you’re right,” he admitted with a humourless laugh, and it was the most annoyed she had ever heard JJ sound, at least towards her.

“It also said ‘I miss you’. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” he asked, his blue eyes darkening and his cheeks flushing.

“Exactly what it said! I miss you, JJ. So much. I don’t wanna be apart from you. From any of you, but-” Kiara responded, her voice a little stronger now, almost a shout as her heart hammered in her chest.

“I don’t care about anyone else, Kiara,” he replied, and it was somewhere between a shout and a laugh. Kie flinched at the use of her full name, something he didn’t do very often and it made her uneasy.

It made her feel like they were fighting, which they were.

It made her feel like he was mad at her, which he had every right to be.

It made her feel as though they weren’t JJ and Kie anymore.

Like they weren’t even friends.

And that made her want to cry. Which was ironic, because the whole reason they were in this situation in the first place was because during the three weeks they had spent stranded together - although probably some time before then, if she was being honest with herself - she realised that she didn’t want to be friends with JJ Maybank.

She wanted more.

“Jay,” she tried again, more softly, stepping toward him, but he pulled back.

“I can’t do this,” he said, and it was so quiet that she wasn’t sure he had actually said it.

“What do you mean? Can’t do what?” Kie pleaded, stepping forward again, taking hold of one of his hands in hers.

She tried to meet his gaze, but his blue eyes were darting around the room, desperately trying to look anywhere but at her.

“Jay, look at me, please,” she whispered, and a few seconds later he did.

“I can’t have this conversation with you if you’re not gonna be honest.”

“I’m trying, JJ. I am. But it’s complicated, okay? My parents said-”

“I don’t give a shit about what they have to say, Kie. This isn’t about them, or anyone else. How we feel about each other, that’s up to us. No one else is allowed to tell us shit about it.”

She dropped her eyes, which were clouded with tears that had yet to fall, and her gaze landed on their hands that were still intertwined.

As JJ slipped his hands from hers, her eyes darted up to his, scared he was pulling away from her. But then she felt his cool palms on her hot, flushed cheeks and her eyes fluttered shut for a second before looking back up at him.

“If you tell me right now that you wanna forget everything that’s happened over the last month…”

JJ took a deep breath, as if he was bracing himself for impact, before continuing.

“If you tell me that you wanna pretend that it never happened,” his voice trailed off, and her hands came up to grasp at his wrists as he continued to cradle her face.

“I’ll do that for you. If that’s what you want. But please don’t ask me to do it for anyone else.”

His head fell forward, eyes closed as his forehead came to rest against hers. Kie squeezed her eyes shut, and the tears finally fell.

JJ felt them trickle against his palms that were still pressed to her cheeks, and he opened his eyes, brushing them away with the gentle pads of his thumbs.

“Tell me what you want, Kie,”

It was all but a whisper against her lips, which were inches from his as their foreheads remained pressed together, noses brushing.

Kiara’s eyes opened and met his, holding his gaze for a second before speaking.

“I wanna be with you,” she said, and before JJ could register what was happening, she pushed herself up onto her toes until her lips met his.

He was still against her for a second until the surprise wore off, and then his mouth was moving against hers.

Her hands slid from their position around his wrists down his forearms, pulling gently until he dropped one hand to her waist and pulled her body flush to his.

Her mouth fell open when the front of his body collided against hers, and JJ’s tongue which had been running along her bottom lip made its way into her mouth with a groan. One of Kiara’s hands knotted itself in the damp material of his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer, the other snaking its way through his hair and tugging gently.

JJ grinned against her mouth, and when she felt it, she pulled back slightly to do the same. JJ took advantage of the brief pause to not only catch his breath, but to reach round behind her and untie the apron that was still around her waist. As it came undone in his hand, he tossed it on the floor behind him. His lips came back to meet hers as his hands slid down her body appreciatively, coming to a stop just under her ass. His warm fingers and the cool metal of his rings pressed into the exposed skin beneath her shorts as he lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist.

He walked them forward a few steps, and Kie whined at the momentary loss of contact between their mouths as he set her down on the counter.

She tugged again at his t-shirt to bring him closer, and he gladly obliged, settling himself between her legs. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled until they were flush against each other again, and her thighs tightened their grip around him in response.

“Fuck, Kie,” JJ breathed against her neck as his mouth dropped from hers into the crook of her neck, desperate for air.

The words and the sensation of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and he felt her arch her back in response as her chest pressed against his. A moment later, her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder, breathless.

JJ’s hands began to wander from where they had been running up and down the smooth, bare expanse of her thighs up to her waist, fingers tracing under the hem of her top that clung sinfully to her curves.

When she felt him hesitate, she lifted her head from where it was resting on his shoulder, her lips brushing his skin as she dragged them upwards across his jaw until they hovered over his again. She nodded, eyes burning into his before they fluttered closed again and her lips collided with his.

His hands pushed under her top, roaming the expanse of bare skin on her back. Kiara’s hands moved to push his jacket off his shoulders, pulling it down his arms until she heard it hit the floor with a soft thud.

The rain continued to hammer against the roof above them, and pelt off the glass windows surrounding them as the last of the sun disappeared below the horizon, casting pink and orange and purple shadows across them and the empty restaurant.

Kiara could feel the strong planes of his chest and stomach beneath the damp t-shirt that clung to him, and she wanted nothing more than to peel it from his skin and have it join his jacket on the floor.

Her hips rocked forward instinctively at the thought of it, and JJ groaned against her mouth as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few seconds later a snap of lightning lit up the sky and they flinched, pulling apart slightly.

They were as close as they’d ever been, noses brushing, eyelashes tickling the others cheeks, lips brushing but not quite touching as they caught their breath.

“JJ,” Kie breathed, shifting so her mouth was now against the shell of his ear, and his skin prickled as he hummed in response.

“I really don’t want this to end, but…” she trailed off with a sigh as her arms came up to drape across his strong shoulders, pulling him close as he straightened up.

“I know,” he whispered against the column of her throat, where her pulse was still hammering, before wrapping his arms around her waist in response.

They stayed like that for a minute or two, just holding each other close and taking in the moment - God knows when they’d be able to have another.

“I’m sorry,” Kie whispered into the silence, and she felt him smile against her neck before he spoke.

“Don’t be. That was further than I ever thought I’d get with you.”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass,” she laughed against his ear before pulling back to slap him playfully on the shoulder. She let her arms slide down from where they had been wrapped around him until her palms rested flat on his chest.

JJ relaxed his hold on her too, hands coming to rest lazily against her waist as his thumbs traced circles into the bare skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her top.

“I’m sorry that everything is so complicated.” She clarified, her soft, brown eyes gazing into his.

“Don’t worry about it, alright? We’ll figure it out,” he comforted with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“So,” he said a few seconds later, followed by a cough to break the tension, “We’ve got some floors to mop, huh?”

Kiara tilted her head, a smile breaking out across her face and lighting up her features at the sight of him grinning back at her.

JJ lifted her down from the counter, setting her on her feet before turning them around so he was nearest the counter and she was facing away from him.

“Better get to it, Cinderella,” he said, smacking her gently on the ass over her shorts, and she turned to shoot him a look of mock offense over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna help?” she asked, nodding her head towards the cleaning closet that was still lying open.

“Sure. In a minute though,” he replied, still leaning back against the counter.

“What’s wrong with right now? I’m working under a time crunch now, thanks to you.” Kiara asked, turning to face him again with a drop of her hip as she crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised at him.

“If you must know, thanks to you,” he began, repeating her own words back to her with emphasis, “I need a minute to… regroup, if you will, before I can move from this position.”

When Kiara continued to stare at him blankly, he dropped his gaze from hers down to the front of his shorts and back again, and Kiara threw a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Right. Got it.” she replied, holding her hands up apologetically but still looking wildly amused. “Sorry about that.”

“Sure you are,” he drawled with a laugh as she moved over to where her apron and JJ’s jacket had landed on the floor, bending over to pick them.

“Not helping, Kie,” JJ groaned from over by the counter and she stood back up, turning to toss the item at him.

“My bad,” she said with a grin, re-tying her apron around her waist and picking up the mop.

A while later, when they had finished mopping the floors and had moved on to polishing glasses whilst Otis Redding played in the background on an old record player in the back office, Kie’s phone buzzed with a text from her mom letting her know they were on their way back.

***

Kiara cried as she said goodbye to JJ on the boardwalk outside of the restaurant, clinging to him as though she might never see him again because, with the way her parents had been acting, it was a real possibility.

JJ whispered comforting promises against her ear and pressed soft kisses into the now all too-familiar crook of her neck. He wiped away her tears and told her he’d see her soon, one way or another, before climbing onto his bike.

She looked on as he reached the end of the road, where he would turn left to go South and she would turn right to go North, and she had never realised it was possible to feel so close to someone and yet so far apart at the same time.

#jade writes jiara #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj x kiara #jj x kie #jj and kiara #jj and kie #jiara #jiara fanfic

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