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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years

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Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts:

Epilogue:

--/--

6 Months Later

“Stop- Katsuki, stop it!” You huff a frustrated sigh, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Why can’t you just sit still?”

“Because this is takin’ too goddamn long! Waste of fuckin’ minutes.”

“Well this is important to me, so you’re gonna sit back and shut up and-“ You nearly scream when he shifts again, almost dislodging the measuring tape you’d wrapped around his wrist. “Sit still! Jesus, angry man, it’ll literally take two seconds if you just stop fighting me!”

He grumbles, something low and petulant under his breath, but then falls back against the couch fully. Bakugou finally relents, hand going slack in your hold as he shuts his eyes.

You were gonna kill him, no seriously, you were gonna murder him. He was being so difficult, way more difficult than usual, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it was because he was tired- because, as you’d quickly found out, from only a few months of dating, Katsuki was an absolute toddler about sleep. You’d come to understand that him being tired led to him being cranky, and him being cranky led to him being so goddamn annoying and combative that it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was lucky you loved him so much- not that you told him that yet.

You’d known you loved him for months now, could feel it the way your body heated if you thought of him, the way your blood sang if you so much as heard his name. It was a full body sensation for you- the way you loved him. There was just no escaping it; no escaping the way he’d carved himself a spot in every single part of you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, didn’t even want to try- but you couldn’t tell him so.

Every time you’d tried you were tongue-tied and stuttering and red in the face. The words were thick in your mouth, clogging up the back of your throat. You just couldn’t figure out how to say them; no matter how many times you’d tried.

You flip his arm over, measuring the space between his thumb and his wrist. You’re trying to be delicate and gentle, but truthfully you really just wanted to get this done quickly.

With the deadline for your last college project quickly approaching, you’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing but devoting all your time and losing sleep over it. It seemed like no matter what support item you’d devised, it didn’t seem perfect- didn’t seem inspired enough to turn in for your final grade. So you dedicated yourself to watching clips and looked at hero rankings and pretty much sacrificed your social life entirely, just to stew over it. It took watching Bakugou’s own hero highlights with him to snap you out of your funk. You wanted to smack yourself; he’d been in front of you the entire time! Of course, it had to be an item for him. So you got to building and designing with renewed spirit.

Katsuki was an amazing fighter, you knew this, and his prowess in battle and raw power alone was quite literally unmatched by almost every opponent- but, the only thing holding him back was that he didn’t do so well with civilians. Try as he might, Bakugou’s loud, flashy, quirk just didn’t paint him as particularly friendly, and his brash personality didn’t help either. And, since you’d long ago given up trying to soften his character, but maybe you could help with his quirk. You figured that was pretty much your degree right?

So, for the past month or so, you’d been secretly working on a gauntlet attachment for him. You’d designed it to quiet his explosions, similar to a silencer on a gun, in hopes that civilians would stop reporting hearing loss after being saved by your very loud boyfriend. Truthfully, you knew it wouldn’t fix all his problems, but maybe then his ratings would go up a tiny bit. And, you figured, if you then just built the prototype you designed, then it could serve as a birthday present for him too. Two birds with one stone, right?

If only it was that simple.

It wasn’t. You were a perfectionist and you’d been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears for weeks now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you were running out of time. Even now, while actively taking measurements for said project, you felt uneasy spending time with Bakugou.

“You done yet, woman?” He peeks an eye open.

“Almost.” You grab your phone, typing the measurements into your notes. “See how easy and quick this went when you stopped being annoying?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so fuckin’ annoying if you’d just tell me what you’re makin’ already.”

“Nope. Already talked about this, Katsu,” You let go of his hand. “It’s a surprise! You don’t wanna spoil your birthday surprise, do you?”

You’re joking, smiling widely at him and fluttering your eyelashes. He doesn’t look very amused. Katsuki just squints at you for a moment before poking your side.

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You’re being annoying. Stop it.”

“Fine. Well I guess since you don’t want it, maybe I just won’t give it to you then.” You tease, moving to leave the couch. “Maybe I just won’t give you any of the gifts I was planning to.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, huffs like he is very inconvienced, and grabs your wrist. He pulls until you’re falling into him, crashing into his chest and settling on his lap.

“I didn’t fuckin’ say that, idiot.” He grumbles, hands falling around your sides. “Stop putting shitty words in my mouth already.”

“I can’t. Pretty sure that’s my job actually.” You laugh, bracing your hands on his chest as you straighten. “Besides, you say like 3 words and all of them are swears, angry man. Someone’s gotta be the talker out of the two of us.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re better quiet.” His words were cold, but he was rubbing warm circles into your lower back. “Fuckin’ silent.”

“Wow- we sure are cranky tonight, huh, angry man? Is it bedtime for baby, already?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m pretty funny.” You laugh, brushing the the wild hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “But seriously though, if you’re tired, I don’t have to stay. I don’t mind, I can leave if you just want to sleep.”

He screws his face up at that, comically offended and dramatic as he drops his face into your shoulder. Katsuki’s arms wrap around your sides, pulling you close until you’re flush against his chest. He tightens his grip and doesn’t seem like he plans to let go any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, angry man, I get it. I won’t leave right now- but I can’t stay for too long.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“That project, remember? I’m nearly done.”

He huffs again, arms curling tighter around you. You’re a little confused- truthfully, he usually is more physical than verbal, especially when he’s tired, but he’s never this physically affectionate. His voice is a near snarl when he speaks again.

“I fuckin’ hate that stupid as shit assignment.”

“Yeah, well, you hate pretty much everything; so I can’t say I’m exactly suprised, Katsuki.”

“No. Seriously.” He gruffs, fingers twitching at your sides. Katsuki takes a deep breath, biting out his next words quickly. “Haven’t seen you in fuckin’ days.”

“Aww-”

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll take it back, woman. Try me.”

“Okay. I won’t.” You giggle. “But I really am serious, I can’t stay over tonight. Got work to do still.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou says and then he’s squeezing you once again, keeping you trapped tight against his chest. “You’re being stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You snort, looking up at him. His mouth is pressed into a tense grimace, so you try patting his cheek playfully. “You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

He doesn’t seem to like your joke. Not at all.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going anywhere.” You console. “I’m only picking on you, you know, so don’t be so sensitive, angry man. You insult me all the time.”

“When the fuck did I insult ya?”

“Katsuki-“ You utter in disbelief, your hand moving to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You literally just called me stupid! And you said you liked me better silent! Like 2 minutes ago!”

He shrugs, and you can feel his face heat against your neck, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully lucky I like you so much.” You sigh. “Because otherwise I’d have to kick your teeth in every time you opened your mouth.”

“Like you could even get that close to me, shitty woman.”

“Strong words for a man currently making a home in my collarbone, Katsuki.”

“That’s-I- You know what,” He starts, extending an arm and pushing against your shoulders to create distance. “Say shit like that again and I swear to god I’ll...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin-“ He stutters, face red and fists clenched. “I’ll-“

You think he looks adorable- all huffy and red and embarrassed where he sits. Katsuki’s eyebrows are pinched together in that competitive crease you’d come to know so well, his mouth curled around a familiar snarl. You were sure it must’ve looked terrfying to anyone else- but you weren’t just anyone else. You were his soulmate and you knew exactly how to get him to calm down.

You caught his face in both of your hands, crossing the distance until your lips met his. Bakugou tried to set the pace, because he always tried at first, armed with bruising pressure and dominance and uncoordinated aggression. You weren’t new here though- you had a lot more tricks of your sleeve than he did.

You ran a hand up his spine, your nails just barely catching on to the fabric of shirt, trailing the back of his neck until they landed in his hair. He damn near melted into you at that, and he pretty much dissolved when your other hand ran under the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna what now?” You asked, pulling away slowly. You’re breathless and blushing yourself but that never stopped you before. “C’mon, Katsuki, tell me. What you were gonna do?”

“I-huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” You giggled. Unable to help yourself, you pecked his lips again. “You seemed so determined though!”

He’s still dazed- red and embarrassed as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. You can’t stop the victorious smirk that rolls across your face.

“You’re an evil fucking woman.” He finally says, breathless. “Shitty too.”

“Mhm, I know.”

“Shouldn’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it. ‘S not a compliment, idiot.”

“I know.” You pat his chest, pushing away from him until you’re standing on your own. “Now, c’mon, up. Sleep time, right?”

You see the look on his face, and it almost kills you to crush it.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’m staying, angry man. I’ll take a nap with you and then I’m going home.” You offer your hand out to him. “Sound good?”

"Whatever.” He doesn’t seem all that pleased and he bats your hand away lightly, standing on his own. He starts down the hallway towards his bedroom with stomping steps and you follow. “You better actually go to sleep though- ya got ugly fuckin’ bags under your eyes, woman.”

You stop in your tracks, a wheeze escaping you. It didn’t matter how many conversations you’d had with him, how many times he’d accidentally insulted you with his blunt words, it still surprised you every time. And maybe it was your tired state, all the sleep lost over the past few weeks finally piling up, but his words hurt a little this time- hit a nerve and made you angry.

“Alright, well, on that note. Maybe I will go home!” You huff, thumping a fist against his back. “That was so mean! What the hell, angry man! I’m literally busting my ass right now and that’s what you have to say to me? That I’m ugly to you? That’s fucking rude! I didn’t- I’m leaving. I don’t even have enough time for this anyway and I-”

He spins around quickly, pressing you into the wall as he grabs your arm. You can’t hit him anymore, not with the sturdy grip he has on your wrist, but the look on Katsuki’s face really makes you want to. He looks insulted, tired, but mostly just annoyed by your reaction. You swear you could kill him that moment, but then he’s gathering you into his chest and you’re melting against him. He’s still your soulmate- no matter how angry he makes you.

“N-not like that. Idiot. Not ugly.” He mumbles against your hair, voice tight and shy. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing furiously. “I meant- I- you’re not fuckin’ sleeping. I can see it. So you have to sleep.”

“I-what?”

“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re tired- it’s obvious. Have been for weeks.”

“You noticed?”

“Course I fuckin’ did.” He shifts on feet anxiously, swaying you a bit in your arms. “See your stupid face all the time- I can tell that shit about you.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” You pull back a bit in surprise, trying catch his eyes. He won’t let you, eyes zeroed on the wall, just behind your head. His face is a violent shade of red. You roll your eyes fondly, gently guiding him to look at you with your hands on his burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have flipped, but that still wasn’t very nice. You really should’ve just said what you meant the first time around, but it’s fine. I understand. School’s just been tough with final assignments and stuff, you know? I’m alright though- just a little tired. Like you said.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows creasing as he grumbles something under his breath.

“What? Couldn’t hear you, angry man.”

“I said-” He starts strong, nearly confident until his tone quickly falls off. Then he’s mumbling again and crushing you to his chest so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes.

“W-what are you trying to say?”

“God, you always make me say such embarrassing shit!” He growls, voice loud next to your ear. “I said- I said- you’re doing too much, idiot! You haven’t been around much and it’s fuckin’ makin’ me mad and worryin’ me and all that stupid, disgusting, annoying, shit! So just give yourself a fuckin’ break, already!”

You’re pressed close to Katsuki, and when you press you hand flat against his chest, you can feel his heart racing wildly under your fingertips. He must’ve been upset about this for a while, you realize- to be expending this much energy, when usually he’d be dead on his feet at this time of night. You feel a little guilty for it, but more than anything you’re gooey and warm all over.

“I-I’m sorry. For worrying you.” You soothe, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest. “And I know you tell me not to apologize to you, but I mean it this time. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.”

“Good. I-”

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing.” He stutters, flushing violently all of the sudden. He spins on his heels quickly, dragging you down the hallway and into his bedroom. “You have to stay now.”

“No- I can’t. I told you.”

“And I fuckin’ told you to chill the hell out and take a break.” He barks, digging through his dresser and throwing a pair of sweats at you. “Stop being fuckin’ difficult. You’re staying.”

Truly, you want to fight him. Your brain is running wildly, a million different ideas and worries battering around inside your skull- but he’s right. You are tired. Have been tired for weeks now. If you went home now, you knew you’d just talk yourself into working some more. So maybe a tiny, tiny little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Just something small. A single night.

“Fine. But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

You knew you made the right decision when he smiles at you; a small, tiny, pleased, little thing that just barely curls the edges of his mouth. It seems like it’d be hardly noticeable, but you’d been dreaming of that smile for months now. He very rarely graced you with it, very rarely shared something so delicate and uncharacteristically soft but it winded you every time.

Katsuki fell asleep almost immediately after pulling your down into bed with him. He’d barely curled around you, hardly even let his head hit the pillow before beginning to snore. That smile stayed though. He kept it even as his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened.

That same overwhelming warmth you’d been feeling for weeks overtook you again- that same blistering, endless affection rendering your limbs shaky and your breaths unsteady as you stared at him.

I love him. You realized. More than anything.

--/--

As it turns out, letting Bakugou drag you into some much needed rest is exactly what you needed.

The next morning you’d left his place, mind refreshed and completely reinvigorated to once again start working on the gauntlet attachment. You’d love to say it was just the sleep that fixed you up- but you knew the truth. It was him- him and increasingly strange ways of showing affection.

Settling down into your desk chair, you pulled the schematics you’d drawn up once more. There wasn’t much left to build, only a few more parts you’d need to fabricate with your quirk, and then you’d be ready to put it all together.

Using past records of his costumes, and studying various clips of him in his current costume, you’d finally felt certain that you’d gotten it right. It was a pain conducting the research, especially because you’d had to contact the support companies personally, but in the end you were happy you did it. You wanted this to be a possible improvement for him, but you also wanted it to fit in with his current arsenal. It was a risk for sure, giving your prototype as a gift, and you’d be totally crushed if decided to not use it, but you’d take the chance.

Bakugou had only mentioned the problem a single time in the past, and even then it was a passing comment, but you couldn’t seem to let it go.

I’m sick of kid’s always fuckin’ cryin’ when I save them. My explosions aren’t that fuckin’ scary, are they?

He’d said it in the middle of a rant, his eyes pressed tightly together as he paced angrily, but something about his tone struck you. When he said it, he didn’t sound angry. Bakugou sounded upset and frustrated and almost hopeless. You knew it bothered him more than he let on, and from then you wanted to help him- but you couldn’t imagine stripping him of his quirk.

It, his explosions, were important to him. They were his power and his pride and they helped him save people. He was so, so proud of them, and it broke your heart to think that they were the only thing left holding him back. So, you figured, what if he kept the force but lost the sound? Kid’s normally liked bright lights a lot more than loud sounds, after all.

Grunting with effort, you began fabricating gears and wires and screws between your hands. It took hours and nearly all of your energy, but you’d finally done it. You had everything you needed to finish his gift.

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of construction, and deadlines, and sleeplessness but by the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready. Your schematics had been turned in and approved by your professors, you’d passed your final project, and you were finally finished building the prototype. Everything was going great- but you knew why you were really happy.

The last few weeks had been packed for you, and you’d hardly had time for anybody. You felt guilty about it, of course, and you only felt worse when you only heard Bakugou’s voice over the phone each night, but there was no helping it.

Or, at least, there wasn’t- but it wasn’t crunch time anymore. You’d suddenly found yourself with an wealth of free-time, and you knew exactly who you were gonna spend it on.

--/--

Using the key he’d given you, you slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly. It was difficult in the dark, stumbling slightly with the gifts and cake currently held in your hands, but you’d managed it. Everything had gone smoothly on the way there, you’d just put the cake safely in the fridge, and now you could wake your soulmate up to the best birthday of his life.

What shame he had to go and ruin it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You jumped, heart seizing in your chest.

“Jesus- fuck.” You yelled in the dark. You blindly felt your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the sound of his voice. “Bakugou! What the fuck, man?”

“What the- no! Me! I should be the one fuckin’ saying that!” His voice was raised, and you couldn’t see his fists but you knew they were probably clenched tightly into fists. “Almost blew you up, idiot! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh my god.” You huffed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes. “I was going to wake you up! Surprise you! Because it’s your birthday and it’s- wait, what the fuck are you even doing up? It’s like 6:30 AM, on a Saturday!”

“What the hell are you even on about? I’m always fuckin’ awake right now!”

“Yeah! On a work day! When you’re working!” You can’t help but be frustrated; you wanted to be cute and sweet and Bakugou had ruined it entirely. As he so often did. “But you’re not even working today! It’s your day off! And I know you sleep in on those, so why?”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ slee-”

“What do you mean?” You interrupt, finally flipping the light switch and flooding the room with light. “Swear to god you’re dead to the world the second you hit the pillow! Literally happens every time I stay over. You’re out by 8:30! Why is today of all days the day you choose not to sleep?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your outburst, and that’s when you finally look at him. It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d last visited, and he didn’t look like you remembered him. It wasn’t anything super obvious at first, but upon closer inspection you could see the deep bags under his eyes, and the pale, lifelessness of his skin. He was telling the truth; apparently, he really hadn’t be able to sleep- and it didn’t start just last night either.

“Hey. Katsuki,” Your irritation from earlier faded. Suddenly filled with concern, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hands. Bakugou tried to turn away, but you didn’t let him. “What’s up, huh? You alright?”

“Fine.”

“No. You’re not. You look tired. Are you sick?”

“No.” He mumbled, his hands falling on your waist as you stood in front of him. “I’m fine. Workin’ a lot or whatever. I’m fuckin’ fine.”

You nod, eyebrows rising in surprise as he suddenly pulls you in. He presses his face into your stomach, arms around your sides as he shuts his eyes. There it is again- that unusual physicality. This strange behavior had stopped for a while recently, but now it seemed to be back in full-force.

“Do you wanna try sleeping again?” You ask after a beat. “I’ve got birthday stuff for you, but we can do always do it later. We’ve got the whole day, right?”

“What- you plannin’ to actually be here or some shit?” He grumbles, with a lot more intentional bite than you’re used to hearing from him. “I’m surprised. Didn’t know an idiot like you still had the fuckin’ brain cells to remember.”

You’re shocked, rendered completely still and stiff in his hold. Was he- was he mad at you?

“What?” You try to push away from him, to get a look at his face, but he doesn’t let you. Bakugou’s arms only tighten and you’re left even more confused. “Are you upset with me? Are you tired? What’s wrong?”

“You really fuckin’ piss me off.”

“What?”

He only growls under his breath, voice raspy and deep. “Whatever. You don’t fuckin’ get it. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No- but I-” You stutter, feeling out of place. Katsuki sounded so frustrated and angry and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “If you’re upset with me we need to talk about it. What happened? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, only knocks your feet out from under you and stands with you in his arms. You’re dumbfounded. He has never, not ever, carried you anywhere. He’s never even made an attempted to lift you! Something was seriously off with him today- and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was.

Katsuki was mad at you. You knew that, he’d said it himself. But then why was he carrying you down the hall to his bedroom? Why wasn’t he kicking you out?

He kicks open the door, pushing it shut loudly behind him. He looks pissed when you look up at him, his eyebrow’s creased together in an agitated line, but even so, Katsuki sets you down on the bed gently. You’re hardly able to catch your breath when he’s climbing in on the other side, pulling you close and lying practically on top of you.

“What? I- Katsuki?” You asked desperately, brain reeling. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand?”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, woman. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t! Not when you’re upset like this- seriously, what’s wrong?”

“You. You’re what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

“What?”

“God, you’re so fucking dense!” He growls, angry voice vibrating against the skin of your neck. “Fuckin’ showin’ up in the mornin’ like nothin’s wrong? Been avoiding me for weeks now!”

“What- no! We literally called last night! What are you talking about?”

“We called for 2 fuckin’ minutes before you fell asleep! And you-” His voice drops suddenly, and then he’s pressing even closer to you, starting up once again. “You piss me the hell off, you know! Sayin’ shit about how you’re gonna do better and then leavin’ for weeks? Not talkin’ to me? What the fuck is that? And then you sneak in here and scare the shit out of me! And you’re running your stupid fucking mouth about the whole day when you’re not even gonna be her-”

Oh. Oh.

He was mad because you’d been busy; because the last time you’d seen him, Bakugou had told he was worried about you, and you blew him off. The last time you’d seen him, you’d promised that you’d take better care of yourself and then you didn’t. All you did was continue working yourself to death, and while you didn’t regret it for even a second, you hadn’t kept him in the loop. You’d barely even managed to call him each night, and even then you’d fall asleep half-way through every conversation.

“Have you been worried this whole time?” You asked quietly.

Bakugou takes a deep, shaky breath, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck.

“You were worried.” You whisper. “Weren’t you?”

He nods minutely.

“I-I didn’t realize. I told you- but I didn’t realize. I was so focused on school, so busy, I’m so sorry.” You press a kiss into his hair, your heart sinking when his shoulders tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t fuckin’- I didn’t-”

“I know. I said it. I’m saying it. I’m sorry, Katsu. I missed you.” You sigh, tightening your arms around him. “Is that why you’re not sleeping well?”

Bakugou is silent but he tenses, going completely rigid under your hands. Your stomach drops.

“It’s-I’m good. Really, this time. Everything’s done. I’m completely finished and everything is gonna go back to normal.” You cradle his face, making him look into your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

Bakugou shakes your hold, tucking his head until you can’t see his eyes anymore. You can hardly see any of his features, but you see the wobbly line of his mouth. Can feel the shaking of his fingers. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. Barely there.

“Didn’t mean it, last time, when I said your eyebags were ugly. You’re not ugly.”

You blink, hardly able to recall the conversation. Wasn’t that the last time you had visited? Weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it?

Bakugou huffs again, apparently frustrated by your silence.

“So I’m s-sorry. For insulting you. So now you don’t have to disappear again.”

Your eyes widened.

“You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

You remember how upset he’d been when you’d made the joke- how his shoulder’s dropped and his eyebrows caved and his mouth smoothed out into a thin line. Was that really the last time you’d visited? Did he think you were mad at him this whole time?

Guilt flooded you, awful and thick and viscous as it tore through your stomach. You had to make him understand. You just had to.

“No. I- Katsuki. Look at me. Look at me.” You insist until he’s looking at you. His eyes are the dullest you’ve ever seen them- more vulnerable than ever before. “I didn’t- I was just busy, I promise! Not upset. I didn’t mean to ice you out like that. It’s fine! I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki growls, grasping for your hand and hiding his face behind it. “I didn’t- I’m sick of stupid angry shit I say ruinin’ stuff for me. So don’t just fuckin’ say it’s fine if it’s not.”

“It is. I promise. We’re good.” You soothe, caressing his burning cheeks with your knuckle. “That was a bad joke, okay- I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it was gonna make you worry so much. I promise I was just busy these last few weeks. Nothing you say is ever gonna get rid of me, alright? Not even if you tried! Because I love you and I-”

“You what?”

You freeze, shifting uncomfortably as your cheeks heated up. This was not how you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him like you meant it, not just tacked onto the back of a bunch of other statements. He’d heard though, and no matter what you wanted, you couldn’t run from it.

“You what?” He asks again.

“I-I love you. Katsuki, I love you.”

Bakugou jolts, nearly jumps out of his skin and then he’s digging his face into your neck. He’s hot, his skin nearly burning, and there’s a strangled, clipped noise leaving his mouth. You’re filled with so much adoration in that moment that it nearly chokes you, but it’s freeing too, because you’ve said it. Finally. After waiting your entire life for him, after knowing him for so many months, after loving him for so long, he knew.

“I love you.” You repeated again, giggling breathlessly. “I love you, you dummy.”

He finally lifts his head, expression so full of awe and disbelief and childlike confusion. It’s just like the first time you’d really kissed him; like he couldn’t figure out why you loved him. It was like those first few days all over again and you couldn’t help it. You loved him so much.

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium.

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving.

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending.

You pull away, panting for breath. He follows, resting on his forearms and dropping his forehead to yours.

“I-I- I love you. Too. Idiot woman.”

You laugh under him, cackling loudly as you turn to press a kiss into his forearms. Of course he’d said it like that. It’s tough love or not at all with Bakugou Katsuki- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop laughing!” He orders, face screwed up uncomfortably. “You’re always fuckin’ laughing at me! You fuckin’ witch! Stop it! It’s- I’m not- I take it back! I don’t- stop makin’ fun of me, shitty wom-”

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Oh my fucking god! You laugh at me and then you go thinkin’ your just gonna interrupt me while I’m yellin’ at you? No fuckin’ way! I’m not gonna allow that shit in my own fuckin’ house and I-”

“Katsuki.”

“Jesus christ! What?”

“I love you.”

He freezes entirely, collasping his entire weight directly on top of you. He’s so hot it’s like his skin is burning. You wrap your arms around him with a happy giggle, burrowing your own blushing face into his hair.

“I love you.” You whisper, slow and earnest against the shell of his ear. “I really, really, really love you, angry man.”

He startles again, jumps in your arms and only seems to run hotter. He groans something strangled and defeated, until he’s sinking into you again, pressing you against the mattress.

“S-s-stop fuckin’ saying it. You’re doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“You fuckin’ know, you witch woman.”

“No, I really, really, dont.” You say indulgently, laughing as you drop kisses into his hair. “Care to share?”

“No. Fuck no. I’m fuckin’ done sharing. Forever.”

You rolls your eyes, once again enduring his very familiar dramatics. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Katsuki. I was just happy to hear it- that you love me too.”

“Well, remember it, because I’m never fuckin’ saying it again.”

“Not even if I say it to you?”

“Especially not fucking then.”

“You’re so difficult sometimes, I swear. You’re really lucky I love you so much.” You say softly, before scratching idly at the back of his head. “Now, c’mon. Get off me. I didn’t forget- you need to go to sleep.”

“I’m sleeping here.”

“No you’re not, you man-child. You’re gonna crush me.”

“Good.”

“No, not good. You wanna celebrate your birthday with a murder charge?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki.” You laugh, pressing against his chest. “Seriously. Up. You’re supposed to use those muscles to save people not kill them.”

He just groans loudly, flopping backwards gracelessly. Katsuki is pulling the blanket up and shutting his eyes, and you think everything is finally okay. Until he clears his throat. Until keeps clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” You huff, opening your eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“Say it again, idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know what I’m asking you.”

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks red. You thought he was adorable- just the cutest man in all of Japan. You knew what he was asking, of course you did, and if he hadn’t been so upset earlier you would’ve made him work a lot harder for it. As it stood now though, you just scooted closer to him; shifting until you were right next to his blushing face and sharing the same pillow.

“I love you.” You say, running a gentle thumb over his heated cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay?”

You can see the smile he’s fighting, the way his lip twitches and he raises a hand to cover it. Then he’s pulling you close and digging his head into the pillow.

All is quiet, and finally, finally, he gets some sleep.

—/—

Katsuki, on a good day, was an absolute beast to wake up- on a day off however? The man was damn near impossible to stir.

You were squatted next to the bed, trying to pull the pillow out from under his head as he held it in his grip. It was absolutely unfair- even at his groggiest your soulmate had the strength of a one man army. It was seriously pissing you off.

“Are you kidding me right now?” You’re grabbing at his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from the pillow but he’s not budging. Katsuki’s got his eyes shut tight, and he’s dutifully ignoring your every word. “I’m serious! It’s noon! Get up already!”

He finally peaks one eye open, just barely enough to see your irritated expression. Katsuki huffs, rips his pillow away from you completely, and flops on his other side. His back was to you, and normally you’d be thrilled about the free chance to drool over the planes of muscle- but this wasn’t a normal occasion. It was his birthday and you’d already made him breakfast and he was refusing to get up and eat it.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I swear to god, if you’re not up in two seconds, I’m not gonna kiss you for a fucking week!”

This does seem to illicit a response from him, because then he’s flipping back over, mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You think I care? You starved me out for fuckin’ weeks already!”

You want to roll your eyes. You thought he was being awfully dramatic and you knew you really shouldn’t stand for it- but he wasn’t technically wrong. However inadvertently, you had been neglecting him, and maybe it was time to treat him instead. Just this once.

“Oh my god, you silly man, come here.” You relent, climbing onto the bed and hovering over him. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just asked.”

“I-didn’t! When the fuck did I say that because I-”

You pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. It was a trick you’d learned early on, but damn if it wasn’t still useful. You pulled away right when he started to get handsy.

“No. Bad.” You say, batting his hands away from slipping under your shirt. “I didn’t just waste all that time trying to get you out of bed just to be pulled in. Now, c’mon, you have breakfast to eat and presents to open- it’s your big day, birthday boy.”

“Fuckin’ exactly. Let me do what I want.”

“No, because if I let you do what you wanted you’d sleep all day and only wake to go blow something up.”

“Sounds like fucking bliss.”

“Alright, well then I guess you’re gonna have to experience nirvana all by yourself because I’m going to eat.” You pat his chest, climbing off the bed and standing straight.

Bakugou grumbles under his breath, but then the blankets are rustling and he’s rising to follow you out the door. He tears into the breakfast you’d made him, shoveling eggs and bacon and pancakes down his throat at an almost inhuman pace. You would cringe, but you’d seen this scene already many times before.

“You ready for presents, now?” You ask, putting the dishes in the sink.

“Sure. ‘m not a fuckin’ kid though, you didn’t have t-”

“I wanted to. Seriously. So be quiet and be a little selfish for once. Please.”

He nods tightly, following you into the living room. He’s settling on the couch, once again rubbing at his eyes when you bring the gifts over. There’s three of them in total and he chooses to open the smallest one first.

“Fuck- this a new watch?”

“Yep.” You nod. “To replace the one you blew up last month.”

“When the- how the hell did you-”

“I have my ways. Now, seriously, promise me you’re gonna be careful with this one.”

“Okay.”

“Katsuki, that’s not a promise.”

“I’m not gonna just fuckin-”

“Say it.”

“No! Why the hell should I have to fuckin’ say shit just because you were spyin’ on me, you freak!”

“Katsuki.” You glare him down. “Promise me.”

“Jesus fuck, woman. Fine. I promise I won’t blast this one to pieces, alright?” He rolls his eyes. “Ya all happy and cheery now?”

“Very.” You smile brightly, moving to grab the second gift and place it in his hands. “Here’s the next one, open it.”

You watched him set the watch aside carefully, before taking the second gift. He might’ve been grumbling, but he couldn’t completely hide the smile trying to stretch across his face. You were glad you made the effort- he deserved every good thing and more.

“This is a jar.” He says flatly, looking down at the unwrapped gift. “What the hell?”

“It’s a swear jar. You know, for practicing how not to offend everyone within a .2 mile radius.” You deapan, taking the excess wrapping paper from him to throw it out. “You gotta work on it, Katsu- news has to censor you so much that your public appearances sound like EDM music.”

“I’m gonna blow this up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You laugh. Then you lean towards him, sidling up close and lowering your voice as you run thumb across his jaw. “And, hey, if you figure out how to make it through the week without filling it up, I’ll give you something really, really nice as a reward.”

“Reward?” He’s asks, quickly putting down the jar. You know the look in his eyes, and you’re not surprised when his hands wander to your waist. “’s empty now, right? Think I fuckin’ deserve it. Huh, sunshine?”

“Nope. Sorry, Katsu.” You smile sweetly, dodging as he leans in for a kiss. “It’s saturday- week doesn’t start until tomorrow!”

He groans, loudly, falling boneless against the couch and tugging you with him.

“You make me want to blow my fuckin’ self up. You know that, you shitty woman?”

“Aw, thanks. Now, cheer up- you’ve still got one left to open.” You say, patting his grimacing face.

You shake his hold, just barely avoiding when he tries to pull you back as you grab the last present. This box is a little different from the last two, you’d spent extra time trying to make sure it was wrapped nicely and you’d even tied a ribbon around it. You hoped he’d like the gauntlet attachment- you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your disappointment if he didn’t.

“Yeah, so this next one,” You start, placing the box in his hand delicately. “I made it for you myself. Designed it too.”

He pulls the ribbon on the box, tearing away the paper. It’s like time stops for a moment, rolling nerves arresting you and choking your breath. You’re nervous and you feel like shaking and you so desperately want him to like the gift. Want him understand just how much work you’d put in for him and just how easily you’d do it all over again.

“Yeah so it’s an attachment for your grenade gauntlets, right?” You start, right when he’s pulling the device from the box and holding it in his hands. “I was thinking- wouldn’t it be nice if you could quiet your explosions sometimes? You know, for when you’re saving civilians and kids and stuff so they’re not so scared. Basically it works kind of similar to a suppressor on a gun, dispersing and slowing down the blast just a little to muffle the sound, but it’s just a little more high-tech and way more powerful- to match your quirk. Obviously. And it’s adjustable so, if, for whatever reason, you needed to wear it outside of your costume, you can collapse it slip it on like a bracelet and-”

Bakugou is silent. He’s almost frozen as he stares down at the gift, only twisting the gift around in his hands to get a better look. His eyebrows crease, and your stomach drops.

“No- it’s- please don’t get mad! It’s not supposed to offend you or anything! I-I know you don’t need my help to save people, you can do it all on your own, I know that.” You rub your arm anxiously, eyes averted to the floor. “I’m just trying to help- you know, because you always talk about your ratings going up, and I’m sure you could totally do it on your own, I know you could, but I just wanted to help you cause that’s what I do, support, and I can’t help you out on the field and I-”

Pop.

Pop pop pop pop pop

When you finally look up at him, you’re blinded by the smile on his face. It’s bright, and beaming, and brilliant as he fires off explosions. You can see the light dancing on his hands, the force of combustion shooting his arm back, but it’s quiet. It sounds like pop rocks and bacon grease and popcorn instead of cracking thunder and collapsing buildings and then he’s laughing- he’s laughing something full and joyful as he stands, holding his hands up right next to his ears and setting off more explosions.

“You hear this shit?” He yells, that wide smile dazzling you all over again. “Fuckin’ works!”

The nerves disappeared, the tension seeping from your body entirely as he grinned at you. It was worth it. Entirely worth it- you’d give anything, start all over and do it all again from the start just to see that smile.

“You wanna hear?” He asks suddenly, nearing you with his hands raised. “Listen!”

“No! No- I’m- I’m good, Katsuki.” You laugh, batting his hands away from your head. “I can hear it just fine from here, no need to singe my hair.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know.” You smile up at him, poking his broad chest. “So you like it? Right? Because it’s just a prototype, first draft, you know, so if there’s anything you want to change about it, let me know. Or if you just don’t want it I-”

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“I’m keepin’ it. It’s cool as shit.” He smiles down at you, eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, stealth, right? Could blow a fucker up in the next room and you wouldn’t even know it!”

“But I- I made them for you to save people? Like to help them?”

“And they could be used to blow shit up more effectively too. Win fucking win.” Katsuki pulls you in suddenly, arms falling familiarly around your waist. “Good shit, sunshine. Thanks.”

“Of course.” You sigh, looking down at your feet. “That’s what I was doing- when I was gone. Designing it for my project grade and then building it for you. Sorry I got so carried away, I didn’t realize I was gone so long, you know?”

“You’re still stupid for it, but it’s fine. Fuckin’ get it.” He grumbles. “You’re done now or whatever, right?”

“With school? Yeah I mean, I’ve still got graduation and stuff but otherwise I’m pretty much-

“Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“God, you always make me fuckin’ say it again!” He flusters, voice loud and raspy. “I said- move in! Here! You’re fuckin’ disappearin’ all the goddamn time to wherever the fuck and I’m sick of it!”

“Y-you want me to move in?

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said! Idiot!” He thunders, face a violent red when you look up at him. “And I’m not gonna fuckin’ say it again so you either have to say yes or no because I-”

“Yes. Obviously. Of course I’ll move in!” You say, warmth filling your chest as you throw your arms around his neck. “I love you, of course I will!”

You see the smile he can’t contain- one so dazzling and arresting, as he looks at you. One exactly similar to the brilliant one from earlier. You couldn’t believe that sentiment made you emotional- the thought that you made him just as happy as explosions did, of all things. But it did make you emotional. It really, really, did.

“What’re you- stop cryin’.” He says suddenly, calloused fingers catching your tears. “Why’re you cryin’? I didn’t even say anythin’ rude this time!”

“No, it’s not that.” You sniffle, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m just happy. Really, really happy. I love you, you angry fucking man.”

Katsuki leans in for another kiss, and you don’t dodge it this time. You meet him in the middle and melt into him just as much as he melts into you. You can feel his hand under your chin, the other on your back, and you don’t think you’ve ever been warmer than in that moment.

You’d been waiting your entire life for him. For all of this. You were warm and loved and so very, very happy that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

Or it would’ve- but when your knees weakened he just held you closer, righting you without missing a beat. You suddenly loved him for that, and for everything else too. You loved him for all that he was and his angry words and his subtle gestures. He was sizzling gunpowder and sharp steel and seared ashes, but he was the softest landing you’d ever known too. There was no hitting the ground with him, and he’d never let you fall alone.

You’d know Katsuki was forever since the day your tattoo appeared, but it didn’t truly sink in until you’d learned to love him. Until you’d known him. Now you knew him like the back of your hand; you saw his face behind your eyelids, heard his voice in your dreams, and thought about his touch every waking moment. He was your other-half, as scary and loud and intense as he was, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He pulls away suddenly, and when you glance up at him he’s staring right at you.

“I love you.”

Your breath catches. You thought you were thrilled to hear the words last night- but it was nothing in comparison to now. Bakugou was finally looking at you, catching your gaze and holding eye-contact and his voice was soft like you’d never heard it before. His tone was bare, no anger or attitude or bite- just him and three little words that took your breath away.

In that moment, Katsuki is the only person in the entire world. There was no one else and no other conclusion, and of course you ended up here. He was the only ending you’d ever surrender to. The only finality that could ever possibly taste so sweet.

And suddenly, all at once, you loved him all over again.

//-//

i- sob. plS this was so much fun to write and im gonna miss it sm !!

once again, thank u to everyone who liked and commented and reblogged any part of this! this is the first ever multi-chapter fanfic i’ve ever written , and i really really was nervous about my characterization and writing and stuff, but you all made me feel so welcome here. i appreciate it sm. way more than any of you know.

anyways, thank u once again for reading lovelies and i hope u all stay safe. i love y’all. <333

#bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x y #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha series #mha soulmate au #soulmate au #bakugou imagine #bakugou series #bakugou fic

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seiyasabi · 3 years

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Trouble In Paradise

(This is a Yandere Kyoutani x Cute Fem Reader x Yandere (Platonic) Older Bro Iwa-chan fic :)) This takes place after high school, in a universe where everyone still plays volleyball.

TW; Jealousy!, turns into dubcon/noncon!!!!, !unwanted choking!, As I’ve said in the past-every character I write for (in my head) are like two feet taller than you!, Possessive behaviour!, he’s highkey soft for u but is still a bastard lol (love him), marking kink!, creampie!, daddy kink!, mentions of Oikawa lowkey being a Yandere too, etc..

Kyoutan deserves the world ;)) I love him ajadskhafkah also, sorry if my use of ‘chan’ is cringey, I think it’s funny af tbh, and since I’m Japanese, I’ll do what I want lmao. Anyways, sorry if this sucks, I tried like 5 different ways to write this, and this was the only one that ended up being somewhat decent. )

Skipping to the loud gym, your skirt swishes against the fat of your thighs. Your cute ass can be seen peeking out from under the pleated fabric, leaving those around you to coo at your pretty self. Without meaning to, you catch the eye of those around you.

Seeing the gym’s doors, you push them open with an excited vigour, happy to finally be with your big brother and boyfriend.

Immediately when you enter, you see Oikawa being swarmed with his fanclub, leaving a straight shot to the rest of the team. Spotting your bad-boy bf, you squeal in delight, gunning at him at top speed. He’s currently sitting on the bleachers, your brother seemingly scolding him for his RBF and bad attitude, but his eyes snap up in an instant, recognising your voice from anywhere.

An uncharacteristic smile is present on his pierced face, standing to his feet, he readies himself to catch you and twirl you around. That’s a plus of being in shape; picking up your supes cute gf whenever you please!

That is, until a certain pretty boy steps in the way.

Tooru has his arms out, in a stance that will allow him to catch you with ease. Before you could slow down and avoid him, he yoinks you up and off of the floor, holding you in a tight embrace, “(Your Name)-chan! I knew you’d come visit me! I’ve been waiting all day for you, Cutie!” The glares from your boyfriend and brother are instantaneous.

Iwa looks ready to scalp the brunet, whilst Ken looks ready to scrap-possibly even catch a body. Oikawa’s fans look absolutely bloodthirsty, jealous of your cute self being in the arms of the equally cute male.

Pouting, you push at the pretty boy’s chest, “Put me down! I’m not here for you!” He coos at you, moving in to kiss you on the cheek, only for you to push him away by his face, “Stop it, you’re being weird! Put me down, I wanna see Ken-Chan!”

By this point, your boyfriend and brother have made their way to you, ready to rip him to shreds, “Put my sister down, Shittykawa! Don’t be a perv!” He karate chops the starlet on the head, causing him to drop you in surprise.

“Iwa-Chan! You’re so mean to me! Now look what you did, (Your Name)-Chan is hurt-” Kentarou catches you in an instant, cradling you in his scarred arms. Oikawa’s mouth gapes in shock, brain not computing the fact that the dyed haired male moved at lightning speed.

“No, she ain’t,” He gruffs out, smooching you on the cheek. You giggle, hugging the tatted male tightly. Your (size) breasts smoosh against his buff chest, as you start to pepper kisses all over his face, “She ain’t ever gettin’ hurt if I’m here,” He places a kiss on your lips, relishing how you immediately kiss back.

“Ken-Chan! I missed you so much!” He rolls his eyes, the tips of his ears turning red. Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your ass instead of your thighs, causing you to gasp, “Kyoutan, don’t be a perv!”

He smirks, readying himself to respond, only for your brother to beat you to it, “Yeah, ‘Kyoutan,’ don’t be perving on my little sister!” Redirecting his smug look, he sticks his tongue out at your fuming sibling.

“Bite me.”

The look on Hajime’s face is priceless, “Biting you isn’t the only thing you need to worry about-”

“Haji,” His attention immediately snaps to your sweet face, which is currently pouting, “Don’t threaten him! He’s precious to me!” Before Kyoutani can say something smart, you rest your head against his neck, practically nuzzling him, which also shuts him up.

The spikey haired ace is immediately offended, “I-wha-(Nickname), aren’t I precious to you? Aren’t I your most wonderful older brother?” You giggle, nodding your head.

“Yes! But Ken-Chan is baby-”

“(Nickname)-Chan, aren’t I baby?! I feel so left out!” Oikawa and his fangirls are off to the side, watching the interaction. Whilst Oinks looks positively offended and left out, the girls are angry that you’ve stolen the captain’s attention.

“No, you’re the ugly side character,” Hajime states nonchalantly.

“Yea, yer uglier than the dirt under (Your Name)’s shoe,” Offended noises and indignant hand movements follow their words, as his fans start to shout in anger and shock.

You lightly whack Kyoutani on the shoulder, scolding him with your eyes, “Haji, Kyoutan, don’t be mean! Tooru is pretty,” The setter preens in delight, “But, he’s dumb. So, he’s the dumb, but pretty, character!”

His hands grasp his chest as if you’d stabbed him, “(Nickname)-Chan, my heart, it’s breaking-” He fake gags, causing your brother and boyfriend to roll their eyes, “The only way to fix it…. Is to get a kiss!” He bolts towards you, causing you to shriek in surprise. Placing you on your feet, you’re quickly placed behind the dyed haired man, ‘Mad Dog’ making an appearance.

Practically frothing at the mouth, he snarls at Oikawa, whilst Hajime sticks out his foot, effectively tripping him. Once falling, the pierced male yanks him up by his shirt collar, and hauls him up to his feet. Now face to face with the scary male, Oikawa gulps in fear, “I’ll kill ya, put ya in the ground, Pretty Boy. Once yer dead, Iwaizumi’ll dance over yer corpse.”

“Yes, I think I will,” Hearing his bestie agree with the sentiment, Oinks finally realises that he messed around too much.

“Now, yer gonna apologise to (Your Name), or I’ll shave yer head,” Now fully standing, Kyoutani moves out of the way, allowing the setter to apologise face-to-face.

Dropping to his hands and knees, he starts to bow at you as if you’re royalty, “I’m sorry, (Your Name)-Chan! I promise I didn’t mean to offend you! Please don’t let Mad Dog-Chan and Iwa-Chan kill me!” Giggling at his over the top words, you nod your head.

“It’s okay, Tooru-Chan,” You pat his head reassuringly, “I know you love your fangirls more than me,” This causes the gym to erupt into cheers, as the other girls start to swarm the male. You can hear him scream in fear, but are quickly pulled away from the crime scene, and taken out to the car park.

Your brother holds you close to him, glaring at your boyfriend who looks equally as angry. There’s a heavy silence between the three of you, as you’re squished into a hug by your brother.

“Haji, why’re you holding me so tight? Don’t you have to get back to practice?” He doesn’t answer, instead speaking to your boyfriend.

“Take her home, Kyoutani. I’ll deal with him now, you can deal with him later,” He nods, taking you from your older brother’s arms, and practically carrying you to his motorcycle. Setting you on the back of the bike, he opens the back hatch of the bike, and pulls out your pastel pink helmet. Placing it onto your head tenderly, he flips the eye cover up, allowing you to see him clearly for a moment.

Smiling up at him (he can only see your eyes crinkle), you speak, “Hi!” His pissed off face immediately dissolves, causing him to smile at your cute self.

“Hi, Baby,” Grabbing his rough hands, you interlace your fingers between his.

“Aren’t you going to practice, Kyo-Ken?” He rolls his eyes, but gives your hands a squeeze.

“Nah, I gotta take my Baby Girl home, so I can show her who she belongs to,” He gives you a wink, leaving you to splutter in surprise.

“You-you can’t say that in public!” Chuckling, he releases your hands and flips your eye cover down, before chucking on his own helmet, and settling on the front of the bike.

Pulling Your arms around his waist, he waits for you to settle against him. He relishes your tight hold, as you practically cling onto him for dear life.

Starting up the engine, he kicks up the kick stand, and speeds off to your shared apartment.

Your body bounces off of the mattress, as you let out a small scream. A giggle escapes your lips, as you smile up at Kyoutani, “Ken-Ken, are you still mad?” He nods, his hands pulling off your cropped sweater, and pushing up your skirt to expose your pastel yellow panties.

“That ugly bastard should’a know better than t’a put his disgusting hands on ya,” He practically growls, undoing your bra and letting your pretty tits flop out. Kissing up your neck, he sucks hickies onto the previously unblemished skin. A small moan leaves your lips at the feeling, as he starts to pinch and twist your nipples.

“Daddy!” He releases your neck with a ‘pop,’ smirking down at you.

“Yes, Princess? Do ya need something?” He rubs the skin on the inside of your thighs, purposefully missing your dampening cunny, “Do ya need yer Daddy to touch yer Princess parts?”

Nodding, you plead with him, “Yes! Please touch me!”

Chuckling, he pulls your panties off of you, letting the cool air of your shared room caress your cunny. Running a single finger up your slit, he barely taps your clit, causing your hips to jerk up and off of the mattress, “Yer such a sensitive baby, I love ya so much.”

“I love you too, Daddy! Please fuck me!” He hums, mulling over your words.

“Want me to show everyone who ya belong to?” You nod your head rapidly.

“Yes! Yes, please!” Kissing you on the lips sloppily, he reaches down to pull out his cock from his Adidas sport shorts. His tip is pierced, and when he rubs it against your clit, you practically see stars.

“My good, cute, polite girl,” He gathers your slick on his tip, before he pushes in. Your walls burn as you try to accommodate to his thick size, practically sucking the air from your lungs. A wanton moan is heard from you, as he waits for you to accept him comfortably, “Relax, Princess. Let me int’a yer pretty cunny.”

“Da-Daddy,” Your arms wrap around him, clawing at his shirt covered back, “You’re too big!” He shushes you softly, rubbing your clit with two fingers. Your juices slowly drip out of you and onto his cock. After a moment, he begins to move, practically rearranging your guts.

“You’ve taken me before, Princess. I know ya can do it, just let me in,” He starts to thrust into you at a medium speed, rubbing your clit at the same pace. Your eyes glaze over, practically rolling into the back of your head.

His cock is heavy and girthy inside of your slick walls, spearing you open with each thrust. Moans and keens leave your throat, as you grip onto him. Your hips meet his, your juices spraying onto the both of you.

“Look at my pretty baby, so fucked out already,” He uses the hand that’s not on your clit to grasp your throat, causing your body to go rigid and eyes to go wide.

“Ken-” He shuts you up with a kiss, swallowing your words. You try to push his hand off, but it’s to no avail. He continues to fuck into you, your cunny still sucking him in, even as you’re scared of his actions.

“Fuck, yer practically milking me for all I’ve got,” He removes his lips from yours, his grip becoming a bit tighter, “Ya want yer Daddy to cum in ya? Yea ya do.”

Now, you’re really pushing against him. You’re not on the pill, “Ken, pull out!” He shushes you, rubbing on your clit even harder than before, trying to make you cum before him. Kentarou relishes the small tears at the corner of your eyes, loving how cute you look.

Without you wanting to, you cum with a small gush of liquid, a whine echoing through your chest. He follows not long after you, filling you to the brim with his virile cum.

With a grunt and a huff, he pulls out of you, loving how his cum looks leaking out of you. Removing his hand from your throat, he looks down once more, realising that you don’t look very happy.

“You didn’t listen to me,” You rub the hand mark around your neck, as you sit up, moving away from him.

“Awe, don’t be like that, Baby,” He reaches out for you, but you move away from him.

“I don’t want to be near you right now, Kyoutani. You didn’t stop…” Moving off of the bed, you stand to your feet. Going to your dresser, you grab a week’s worth of clothes, including your work uniform. Pulling on a new shirt, you fix your previous outfit, as you start to cry.

“Wait-I-ya-ya aren’t leaving me, are ya?” For once, the spitfire male is at a loss for words.

“No, I just need time away from you. You say that Tooru is bad, but you hurt me a lot just now. I’m calling Haji, and I’m going to stay with him for a little while,” Your brother has your daily items there, just because you’d sleep over sometimes, so you aren’t too worried about not having soap and such.

Grabbing your phone from your purse by your bedroom door, you call him, Ken watching you with wide eyes, “Haji, please pick me up. Kyoutani and I got into a fight.”

Hajime helps you into his car, before turning to the still shocked male you call your boyfriend. He hasn’t said a word, if anything, he looks shocked beyond anything else.

Shutting the car door, your brother finally speaks, “I knew you were no good for her. Your jealousy got the better of you.”

“I didn’t mean to, it-it just-”

“Got out of control?” Your brother raises an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest, “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You hurt my little sister,” He moves closer to the dyed haired man, eyes flashing with anger, “You choked her out. Why? Because Oikawa made you jealous? Despicable.”

“It isn’t like that! We-we were having se-” He holds up a hand, stopping your boyfriend from continuing.

“I don’t want to hear it. Just know that if you come near her without her allowing you to be in her presence, I’ll kill you. I never wanted you to be with her, and you just proved my fears correct.”

Realisation dawns on Kyoutani, “Wait- is this why ya wanted me to come home with her? So I could fuck up?”

Hajime smirks, “Of course. My little sister is too good for you. Now, fuck off, before I do something you won’t like.”

Ken watches as you go, tears brimming his eyes. He should’ve known your brother would find you too precious to be with him. He most likely asked Oikawa to help him, seeing as the pretty boy was in the car with you, looking as perfect as ever.

He fucked up, and now Hajime has won their rivalry.

#kyoutani x you #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani x reader #yandere kyoutani #yandere iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader

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thestarrynightslover · 4 years

Text

It’s Hard Sometimes

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,975

Warnings: Yelling, arguing (gets a little physical, really just a little bit!), high risk-pregnancy, slight mentions of fertility issues, mentions of anxiety and overthinking, and a lot of angst.

Summary: Jay and the reader are married, but start having a hard time after they found out that (y/n) is pregnant.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I made this piece of almost pure angst mostly because I feel like Jay is such a well-built character, who gives us a lot of space to talk about mental health and anxiety (even though I don’t think I developed it very well, lol), so I wanted to use this space to try and add to the conversation with him. Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

Your Saturday morning just couldn’t get any worse.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought after having been mugged at the subway and then asked to go pick up your stuff at the 21st District, where your husband works. You had to go in because they had apprehended your bag as stolen property. But you were hoping that, maybe, you’d be able to sort it all out without Jay seeing you.

“(y/n), hi! Here to see Chuckles? Cause they’re all out working on a case now.” Trudy said with a small smile on her lips, while you just prayed she wouldn’t notice how relieved you were to hear that.

“No, uh, I’m actually here because there was an incident at the subway and the responding officers told me I had to come in to get my bag back. Also, sign something, I think…” You answered shrugging your shoulders to make it seem like nothing. But, of course, Trudy knew better, she always does.

“Oh my God! I heard about that, just didn’t know you were one of the victims! Are you okay? García, go get (y/n) a glass of water!!!” She quickly shouted at the young officer, not waiting long to turn back to face you with a concerned glare: “Can I get you anything else?”

“Oh, no, Trudy! You don’t need to worry about me! It wasn’t a big deal!” You said, also noticing that she was already going through some evidence bags, looking for the one that contained your things. “But there is one thing that I’d appreciate from you…” Hearing that, she didn’t even let you finish:

“Yes, of course! Anything, just name it!” At that, you shot her your brightest smile. Maybe Jay was right and the tough Sergeant Trudy Platt did have a soft spot for you.

“Well, it’s just that… You know how Jay can get, so maybe you could not mention any of this to him? I just don’t want him worrying, the way I know he will, over something like this…” You would’ve continued but Trudy had the weirdest look on her face and, then, you got it. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” She didn’t bother to answer as your husband turned you to face him and the other members of the Intelligence Unit.

“So, what is it you don’t want me to worry about, huh?” He had a playful smirk on his lips, but his eyes showed you he was already worried. And now you had no other option but to tell him what happened.

“Well, um, there was a little confusion at the subway today and the officers said I had to come in…” You would gladly stop at that, but you knew that Jay wasn’t gonna let it go until you told him everything, so you just went on: “To retrieve what I, um, lost.” God, you couldn’t even look in his eyes right now.

“What you lost? What kind of confusion are you talking about exactly, babe?” In spite of the pet name, his voice was already showing off a bit of irritation.

“It was a, um, robbery,” at that his eyes almost jumped out of their orbits, so you quickly added, “but it wasn’t a big deal! Nobody got hurt! The officers tackled the guy pretty fast, as soon as he stepped out on the station! And everything is here,” you said raising the bag Trudy handed you a few minutes earlier, “so, really, there’s nothing to worry about!” You told him, not being able to conceal the exasperation in your voice.

“Nothing to worry about? You just got mugged, (y/n)! We heard a call about that over the radio, it was an armed robbery! Or did you happen to miss the gun on your face when he was getting your bag, huh?” He asked and, even though you knew that the only reason why he was lashing out like that was the concern, the way he said what he said made you feel really small and brought tears to your eyes. “Actually, what I’d like to know, to begin with, is why were you even riding the subway alone, after our talk from the other day, huh?” You could feel the eyes from every person in that District on you and, as much as you knew where Jay was coming from, it was starting to really bother you.

“I was just going to the library. Sorry I didn’t think I needed an escort to do that!” You wish you wouldn’t have said it with those exact words, but you were reaching your limit.

“But we talked about it!” He snapped and you jumped back a little. Then he added, more calmly: “You should have called me.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose, like he always did when he was disappointed and upset about something, and you just felt yourself getting smaller and smaller, as the tears started falling. As if all of it hadn’t been enough, he asked: “Are you okay, though? Because, you know, given our circumstances, you’re to avoid going out on your own to prevent this kinda stress from hitting you, babe.” He explained that to you like he was talking to a child. Like he was the only one who heard what the doctor said. And that was it for you. As much as you loved the man, you just didn't have infinite patience towards his overprotective dad-to-be mode.

“Oh, really? Why don’t you just go ahead and say ‘I told you so’, huh? Because I can tell you’re dying to do it!” God damn those pregnancy hormones because you were fuming with anger and the tears just kept going down at full force.

“Babe, that’s not what I-”

“The hell it isn’t!” Part of you really wanted to let it all out. All the hurtful words that were just waiting for a go-ahead at the tip of your tongue. But the other part of you, the rational one, knew that wasn’t gonna do any good for you or Jay. Or your baby. So you decided you’d leave instead. “You know what? It’s probably best if I go home now!”

“Okay, then, I’ll drive you.” You heard Jay saying, with a deep sigh, but you couldn’t even begin to think about an entire drive home with him at that moment.

“No way! I can do that by myself! And don’t worry I’ll get a cab this time!” As you headed towards the exit, you felt a strong grip on your wrist. You turned around and it was Jay. He’d never done that before. “Jay, you’re hurting me!” You breathed out, trying not to be too nervous. When your eyes met his, he let your arm go quickly, looking absolutely stunned by his own behavior.

You knew that the healthiest thing to do right then would be to try and talk to him about it, but you couldn’t. At that point you needed the space more than ever, so you took the opportunity to just leave the District and go home.

After you stormed out crying, every cop in that building laid their eyes on Jay. To say they were completely shocked by the previous scene was an understatement. Almost everyone there knew you and Jay and how you two were great together. But, more importantly, they knew Jay Halstead wasn’t that kinda guy ⎯ or at least they thought so ⎯ and now they were all wondering.

Still, Trudy Platt, who wasn’t about to have any more of that drama at her District, ordered loudly for everyone to get back to their tasks, while shooting Jay a worried look, because, as much as she knew for a fact that he wasn’t that kinda guy, she cared a lot about you and had, obviously, witnessed the whole thing.

After the little gathering of cops had been dissolved, it was Voight’s turn to speak up: “Alright, Intelligence, let’s get back upstairs, we still have a lot of work to do on this case. And, Jay, you should go home now.” He said with a stern look, despite his concern for the detective.

“But, sarge, I-” Jay started to protest, like Hank knew he would.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Halstead. I know your head is not gonna be on the case until you fix whatever that was, so, now, the best thing you can do is just calm down and go home.” This time Jay knew there was no point in arguing, so he accepted the defeat and went upstairs to get changed in the locker room before leaving.

As he got there, he saw his reflection in the mirror and that was when it hit him. All of it. From your incident to your tears, to his aggressiveness. He really messed up. He let his fears get the best of him and he hurt you, he made you cry, fear him, even. So he started crying himself, like a little child whose favorite toy had just broken, like there was no tomorrow. By the time Voight went there to check up on Jay, maybe give him some advice, that’s what he saw: a grown man sitting on the floor crying his eyes out. So he did the one thing he could think about doing, to try and make that man he considered like a son feel better: he sat there by Jay’s side and put a hand over the detective’s shoulder until the crying sufficed.

“So, you and (y/n) been on the odds lately?” Hank asked after a while.

“No, uh, not really.” Jay started whilst sniffling. “It’s just that this week we got some news that messed with our emotions a little, but, Hank, I swear I have no idea why I did that! I would never do anything to hurt her, you gotta believe me! Please?” He pleaded, in desperation, for someone who knew it, who knew him.

“Jay, Jay!” By then the sergeant had to shout to get the frantic young man’s attention back. “Jay, I know you wouldn’t hurt her, you hear me? I know. I know you love her more than you love yourself, hell, everyone here knows it! They were just… A little surprised to see you two arguing, that’s all.” Hank tried to make it sound a lot less bad than it actually was, and Jay appreciated that. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on between you and (y/n), huh? Maybe I can help you somehow… Or maybe you just need to vent.” Hearing that, Jay decided that he should take Voight’s suggestion and just talk about it already.

“Well, here’s the thing, sarge, (y/n/n) and I, we’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while now. And, um, we were having a bit of a hard time with it. But then last weekend we found out that it worked, she got pregnant, and we were so happy about it!” He almost smiled at the memory. “But then we went to the doctor to check it and all that, and found out that it’s a high-risk pregnancy, meaning she’s gotta take it real easy from now on, otherwise the baby’s life and her own would be in danger! And I’m terrified ever since we left that hospital! Because the simplest thing could take her away from me! My everything, sarge, she is my entire world and I can’t live without her.” He said shaking his head in a way that made even Hank Voight feel a bit of sadness. “So when she said she’d been robbed at gunpoint… I just lost it, you know? What if I’d lost them?”

“Ah, Jay…” Hank knew exactly what the detective was scared of, after all, he had already lost a wife and a son. “Look, I know this can be hard, trust me. Camille and I had our issues before Justin came, as well… But you said it yourself, you’re both happy, aren’t you?” Jay didn’t even need to think before answering that question.

“Yes, of course, sarge! But-”

“No buts! Look, Jay, I know what a big heart you have and I know how much you care, how- how intensely you care, I know, okay? But sometimes, with things like this, you just gotta keep going and hope- just hope that everything is gonna work out. So here’s what you’re gonna do: go home, make up with your wife and start planning a nursery, or whatever else you, parents-to-be, have on your to-do lists these days.” At that, Jay chuckled a little, feeling grateful to have this second father to set him on straight.

“I know you’re right, and I really appreciate you saying this to me… I’m pretty sure that (y/n/n) said something among those lines after we got back from the doctor’s appointment too. The problem is that sometimes it seems like I can’t control my own thoughts. Then, next thing I know, I’m freaking out…” Hank thought that he sounded so frustrated saying that… He really felt for the kid.

“Listen, Jay, you- you just try, okay? You just try your best. And talk to (y/n/n) about it, just let her know what’s going on in there.” He pointed to Jay’s head, as they had already stood up.

“Alright, I will try. Thank you, sarge. Thank you so much, I really needed this.” They half-hugged and the detective went home to you.

The thing he wasn’t prepared for, at all, was finding you: the woman he loved more than anything and anyone in the entire world, sitting on the floor, leaning your back against the bed in the bedroom you two shared, crying and shaking. You were scared of him. That broke him in a way he never thought possible. He wanted to hurt himself, as punishment for hurting you, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair to you. So he gathered some courage to speak through his shame instead. “B- babe?”

You shivered, but you didn’t wanna be afraid of him. That was Jay. Your Jay. The man you loved. The man who loved you. You knew he would never hurt you or your baby. But your body didn’t seem to be listening to your brain. Still, you wanted to say something. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t know what to say, so you just stayed silent, trying to stop the sobs. He decided to make a move: He sat down on the floor like you, but still giving you some space. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, almost whispering, “I’m so, so, so sorry. You don’t need to say anything, or to forgive me, or do anything, really. I came here willing to talk to you. To do anything to get you back. But now I see just how much I hurt you, so I’ll give you all the space and time you want.” You still couldn’t seem to find your words. It was that same man, you knew it. Why couldn’t you just tell him that? “I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom, or even go to Will’s if it makes you more comfortable?” Just by the sound of his voice, you could tell he meant it. And that was your Jay.

“No,” you spoke so lowly, that you weren’t even sure he’d heard it, “I want you to stay.” And you really did. But you needed to understand, in order to be able to forgive him. “Just- just tell me what happened there? Why?” You tried, a little louder this time.

“Long story short? I was scared to death.” He said with a long and heavy sigh, looking so much older than he’d ever done before; at the same time, you could see the bags under his eyes, from all those sleepless nights he’d been having lately.

“Scared? Because of the robbery? Baby, you’re a cop! You’ve heard of that kind of thing a million times before, and you know it’s not that big of a deal!" You tried to reason with him, even though you were afraid too, at the time.

“I know!” He said, in a tone that made you flinch a little and, then, more calmly: “Look, I know. And I know that you’ve been through tougher stuff. And that you can handle yourself. But that whole thing could’ve gone badly for you, for the baby, for us, in a thousand different ways. Besides, it’s not just that. Ever since we left that exam room, on Monday, I’ve been scared, worried. Because, according to the doctor, the tiniest problem could get you on edge. Because of the tiniest problem, I could lose you. I could lose everything, babe!” You could only stare at him in shock, after hearing that. Of course, you understood his concerns, but you had been so absorbed in your own fears, that you never thought about how much the whole situation was affecting him. Your formerly brave soldier, now tough detective, was also a very anxious man ⎯ who always overthought every single detail of everything when it came to you ⎯ and was, now, crying his eyes out, sobbing like a little kid by your side. So you did the one thing you thought could make him feel better: you pulled him closer to you, letting him break, into your chest, as he listened to your soothing heartbeat.

“It’s alright, my love, it’s alright. Shhh, I’m right here and I’m safe. We both are. You don’t need to be afraid, because we’re not going anywhere, baby.” You promised him with tears already pricking through your eyes, as well.

And, like that, you two stayed, crying in each other’s arms, just holding each other. With a renewed hope that everything was gonna be okay.

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dumbass-extraordinaire · 3 years

Text

Duck, Duck, Grief

The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate. She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse. A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it. This one doesn’t sound like Duck. She ignores them both and keeps walking. The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face. Aubrey is grateful for it. Having a body feels like an impossible task right now. Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened-

(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)

-and she wasn’t ready. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-

(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)

“Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

There is a voice above her-

(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)

-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.

“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet. She doesn’t remember falling to her knees. That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-

(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)

She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance. They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop. She does not move.

…

Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse. He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over.

“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful! Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.

“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder. Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.

Duck scratched his head. “Honestly, Sarah? I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed. “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”

The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries. When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird. If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.” She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister. I expect an explanation.”

He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”

She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.

Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck. He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly. A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them. He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting. He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.

“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck. There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.

Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt. He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.

…

The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets. Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone. Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay. The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.

His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side. He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends. Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo. Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.

When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress. A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.

Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head. Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed. At least Aubrey is okay. And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy. He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards. The man was damn near unkillable. He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance. He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Y’okay, kid?” He asks, “Aubrey?” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.

That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign. The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day. It scared him then and it scares him now.

“Aubrey,” he repeats her name. “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me. I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.” Nothing. She just keeps staring blankly ahead. He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Again, nothing. Shit.

He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!” He snaps. The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!” Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.

Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.

Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked. Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained. Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange. Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away. He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color. He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has. He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned. They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.

“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china. “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…” She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.

“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying. But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.

He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!” Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder. Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.

“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…” She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue. Her shoulders shake with the force of it.

Duck pats her back awkwardly. “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid. I’m sure you did everything you could.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead. He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench. Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly. He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken. Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this. Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.

Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice. Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen. Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down. The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question. Duck nods emphatically. Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention. The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction. She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.

The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks. The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.

His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”

Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.

“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.

She exhales softly through her nose. “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.” Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face. There is dried blood under her fingernails.

“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened? What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”

She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”

“No! Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps. “What. The. Hell. Happened.”

“I-it was Ned.” The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey. She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.

Duck stares at her. “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”

She shakes her head. “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this. Mama, uh, can you explain, please?” Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.

Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles. Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.

Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright. Ned ain't hurt, honey. I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead. Ned’s dead.”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.

That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead. Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead? No way. This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke. It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed. It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit. It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead. And he can’t handle that. What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?

“Duck?” Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain. He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”

He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all. But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected. Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really. She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards. The least Duck can do is be strong for her. He’s good at being strong. So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later. Aubrey comes first.

He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.” He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?” His voice trembles right at the end. He clenches his jaw.

Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey. “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says. Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier. Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.

She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television. The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it. That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.

“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase. It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em. He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani. And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her. Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt. And tonight, that was Ned. He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late. There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that. “And that’s… that’s the whole story. I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”

Duck says nothing, just nods sharply. Because how do you respond to something like that? What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them? What do you say? What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid? What do you say?

As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.

#i wrote this right after listening to ep 28 of amnesty and it's been sitting in my docs ever since so i figured i'd post it here #enjoy the angst y'all #ned chicane #duck newton #aubrey little #mama #taz amnesty #taz fic #taz amnesty spoilers #my writing tag #angst #grief #found family #fanfiction #fanfic #baby's first fanfic #writers on tumblr

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honey-dewey · 4 years

Text

Bomb (of the Bath Variety)

Pairing: Ezra/Reader

Word Count: 2,184

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Someone please introduce this man to the concept of a spa day. He just needs to relax in a tub with Epsom salts for the muscle pain and a bath bomb because they smell nice. He needs someone else to wash his hair for once because god knows he can’t do it. He needs to be introduced to moisturizers and other skin care products. He also needs (wants) funky colored nails.

“Jesus Ezra!” You shouted, seeing him shuffle into the pod, covered in grime. “What did you do all day?”

“Uh,” Ezra hesitated, biting down on his glove and pulling it off. “Cee pushed me into a dirt hole.”

Cee nodded. “Can confirm,” she said with a grin. “I’m headed next door so I can bathe.”

You waved to her, watching the hatch shut once more. “And you,” you said to Ezra as he tried to sneak past you. “Get in the bathroom.”

Ezra pouted, but listened. He didn’t hate bathing, but he wasn’t super keen on it either. It was a hard task when you only had one hand, but today would be different. If you’d set it up right, today would be pure bliss for Ezra.

Starting with you turning the shower off.

“Moonlight?” He turned when you cut the water, clearly confused. “I thought I had to bathe.”

“You do,” you agreed, kneeling beside the bathtub and turning it on. “Ez, you’re taking a spa day.”

“A what now?”

You stood, slowly working a still confused but now considerably more relaxed Ezra out of his work suit, pushing the leather harness off his shoulders. “A spa day, Ezra. Where you take a day to just relax. Get all clean and done up with nice products.”

Ezra shrugged, looking into the bathtub that was steadily filling with water. “That’s gotta be some fancy tradition from your planet, because I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You were a state ward!” You pointed out, bending to grab a cardboard box of various spa day supplies you’d been saving for an occasion such as this. “You’d also never held a real book or eaten a full meal until you started prospecting.”

“Fair,” Ezra hummed. He wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially his days as a state ward. But you’d caught glimpses of the life he’d led prior to becoming a prospector. Cold bunks crammed into a room full of underage orphaned boys, all shivering. No one had a family name, and it was rare any one of them was happy, or really even survived to make it out. Apparently, at the state house Ezra had been raised at, the suicide rate was almost 40%.

But that was the past, and this was the present. You opened the box and pulled out a bath bomb, reading the label and setting it on the counter. “You like mint, right?”

“Of course,” Ezra said. “Reminds me of you.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Ezra. “Get in the tub Ez.”

Ezra, with that beautiful crooked grin on his face, removed the last of his clothes and stepped into the tub. “You know, this tub has room for two.”

“Shame I won’t be getting in,” you said. “I already bathed.”

Ezra pouted. “Moonlight, you wound me.”

“My sun, this is about you, not me.” You handed him the bath bomb. “Go ahead and put that in the water. I have some epsom salts in here, I know it.”

As you knelt down to find the pesky bag of salts, Ezra put the bath bomb in the water, gasping as it began to fizz. “Moonlight! It’s dissolving!”

“It’s supposed to,” you said, standing with the bag of salts. Ezra poked the bath bomb with a happy grin, his finger going green from the fizz. “It’s called a bath bomb for a reason. Scoot.”

As Ezra moved reluctantly from the bath bomb, you measured out two cups of epsom salts and poured them into the bath as well. Ezra was clearly disappointed when they didn’t fizz like the last thing you’d put in the water, but the slight rosy smell was enough to make up for it. “What is that for?”

“Epsom salts help with muscle pain,” you said, putting the bag down and dragging a stool over so you could sit at Ezra’s height. “I use them sometimes after we do really bad prospecting trips. Hopefully, they’ll help with your arm.”

Ezra’s face darkened, the delicate subject of his right arm, or lack thereof, causing the mood to sour. You sensed the change in the air and immediately brightened your tone. “But, that’s not all we’re here for,” you said. “Depending on how far you’re willing to let me go, we could be here for hours. I bet Cee would join us for face masks,” you added as an afterthought.

“Face what now?”

“Masks.” You held up one of the tubs of clay masks you had. “They help with your skin.”

Ezra grinned. “I shall partake in this face mask ritual on one condition.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at your poet of a boyfriend, you crossed your legs. “And what would that condition be, my sun?”

“Paint my nails?”

It was an odd request, but one you weren’t about to turn down. “Okay. Consider it done.”

You let Ezra soak for a while, sitting beside him on the stool and reading. It was a book aimed mostly at teenagers, but Ezra had said something about it being Cee’s favorite and now you were determined to read it. So far, it was pretty good.

Eventually, you put the book down and convinced Ezra to dunk his head under the water. When he came up, water running in thin streams down his skin and hair plastered to his head, you laughed and picked up a bottle of rose water shampoo.

“Lean back,” you instructed softly, laying a towel across your lap so Ezra wouldn’t soak your pants. He rested his neck on the edge of the tub, head falling back into your hands. “Comfy?”

“Could be worse,” Ezra decided. You leaned down to kiss his damp forehead, making a face when the soapy tang of the bath bomb and epsom salt water rolled over your tongue.

Sitting back up and popping open the shampoo bottle, you squeezed an appropriate amount into your hand and began to massage it into Ezra’s scalp.

The effect was immediate. He groaned, entire body relaxing as your deft fingers worked away the dirt and buildup from his hair. Ezra bathed every few days, just like everyone else, but with his once dominant hand gone, his job washing himself was lackluster at best. For him, you properly washing through his hair must’ve felt like pure heaven.

You scratched through his hair for longer than was probably necessary, keeping him in that blissed out state. When you finally lifted a plastic cup with water to his head and began to rinse the suds away, he keened softly, vocalizing his dislike of your lack of touch. You apologized, taking your non-dominant hand and sliding it up his forehead, settling it just before Ezra’s hairline to shield his eyes from the soapy water trickling down his face.

Tugging on the blond streak in Ezra’s hair, you discretely ran your fingers through it, slowly spiking it up into a mohawk.

“My moonlight, what are you doing?”

“Shit.” You didn’t stop in your actions, only finished what you were doing despite being caught. “Take a look.” You held a hand mirror out, giving Ezra a view of his new hairdo.

“Moonlight,” he said, turning to face you. It was too much. You broke down into laughter, doubled over and Ezra smiled and ducked his head beneath the water to return his hair to its plastered look.

Once your laughing fit had come to an end, you straightened and began to massage a small dollop of conditioner into Ezra’s hair. Restraining yourself from giving him yet another mohawk, you scratched your fingers over Ezra’s scalp for almost five minutes. He relaxed yet again against the porcelain rim of the tub, breathing evening out as he practically fell asleep beneath your hands.

You were slow going in your rinsing out of Ezra’s hair, trying not to wake him from his impromptu nap. He hummed, and when you put the cup down and seemed his hair free of conditioner, he reached up and cupped your neck. Pulling you close, he kissed you, lips molding perfectly despite being upside down. “I love you, moonlight.”

Smiling and pressing an upside down kiss to Ezra’s forehead, you softly murmured into his skin. “I love you too, my sun.”

Ezra got out of the tub some time later, once you’d helped him scrub dirt out of every crevasse of his body. The water was more brown than green at that point, but Ezra was clean. You held his hand as he stepped out of the tub and watched as he dried himself off, insistent that he could do it by himself.

As he dressed himself in soft sleep clothes, you called Cee in. She was eager to partake in your spa day, also dressed in her pyjamas. She had a few bandages spanning her skin, small ones indicative of minor scrapes. You counted three, one on her right wrist, one further up her right forearm, and one on her left foot. How she’d scratched herself through the boots and suit she wore on her jobs, you had no idea.

“I didn’t even know you had clay masks!” Cee said happily, opening the jar and taking a wooden popsicle stick to start applying it to her face.

“I made it myself,” you said, grabbing a second jar to start plastering the grey/brown paste to Ezra’s face. “It’s one of the only things I can make myself.”

Once all three of you had been properly covered in the clay, you began to slowly diffuse Ezra’s wet hair. Cee sat by, reading the book you’d been reading earlier. Nearly twenty minutes later, Ezra’s hair was dry and shockingly curly and the three clay masks were hardened.

“Thanks for sharing,” Cee said as you handed her a damp washcloth. “I don’t remember the last time I had a spa day.”

“We’ll have to do them more often then,” you decided firmly, passing Ezra the other washcloth. “My sun, do you still want me to do your nails?”

Ezra nodded. “Yes please.”

“Should I do yours too?” You turned to Cee, who shook her head.

“I don’t paint my nails,” she said softly. “Plus, I am exhausted. That prospect was hard as hell. Gonna go nap as soon as I’m clay free.”

True to her word, once Cee’s face was clean, she bid you both good night before leaving to go take a nap.

You took her washcloth, but Ezra stopped you before you could lift it to your face. “My moonlight, can I clean your face? Please? After all you’ve done for me, I want to make it even.”

You smiled, letting Ezra take the washcloth. “You don’t need to worry about making it even, my sun. I’m doing this because I love you.”

Despite your reassurance, Ezra gently began to rub the washcloth across your face in small circles, clearing away the clay as he worked. His hand was warm and soft, and you carefully put your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself still.

When Ezra was done, he kissed every inch of your face he could while you writhed with laughter underneath him. “Ezra!” You shouted happily, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Ezra, my sun! I yield!”

Ezra pulled back, lips quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry my moonlight, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You hopped off the countertop you’d been sitting on and grabbed your small box of nail polishes. “Give me your hand,” you said, getting back on the counter and pulling out a small nail file. Ezra put his hand in your lap and sat on the stool you’d been using.

It was a gentle, silent process. You filed Ezra’s nails down, wincing at the bitten away stubs you were trying to fix. “Ez, it’s a miracle you don’t have an infection,” you said softly, finishing on his little finger. “This is bad.”

Ezra looked at his knees, shrugging halfheartedly. “I know.”

You kissed each of his fingertips, pressing one final kiss into his palm. “I love you anyway.”

That brightened Ezra’s downcast face. “I know.”

You found a beautiful mustard yellow nail polish and a glittery gold polish, slowly painting each of Ezra’s fingernails with expert precision. He was still, watching you work with a look of wonder on his face. “You’re amazing.”

Putting the finishing touch on Ezra’s thumb, you put the cap back on the gold bottle and smiled. “Thank you, my sun.”

Ezra waited a few minutes for the polish to dry before looking at it properly. The yellow color was muted, but still a nice rich shade. What really made it pop was the gold accents, reflecting the shitty bathroom lights and drawing attention.

“I like it,” Ezra decided firmly, curling his fingers and watching the gold dance.

“I’m glad,” you said, sliding off the counter. “Wanna make dinner?”

Ezra nodded, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a firm hug. “We’re doing spa days more often,” he said into your shoulder. “Please?”

Hugging Ezra, you nodded, relishing in the mint and rose water smell. “Absolutely, my sun. Absolutely.”

#prospect (film)#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years

Text

Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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moxfirefly · 4 years

Text

Video calls and confessions

Part 2

Rated Explicit (18+)

Got around to that part teo for this one shot.

Hellboy/Cam!Girl

____________________

The world going to shit wasn’t exactly how’d you planned out your Friday afternoon. This morning you had woken up with enthusiasm and a desire to treat yourself.

You’d gone out to the city, had your nails done, grabbed an obscenely priced coffee and on your way had stumbled on a museum.

A little culture never hurt nobody.

For Christ sake it was a free entry day too.

So why then, as you admired priceless art and sculptures had literal hell descended upon the evening?

Creatures. Actual monsters. The screams of the public deafening.

That had happened about half an hour ago. In your haste you had thanked you fight or flight mode to quick into flight. The shaking in your body had cause you to run into one of the exhibit rooms most cluttered with random ‘junk’ whatever this art installation had gone for it was surely not for somebody to duck behind for safety.

You checked your phone. The news was reporting the attack of the art museum. Authorities had been sent as well as the B.P.R.D...

That made you pause and clutch your phone.

If the bureau was on its way then that meant Hellboy was too.

The very notion of possibly seeing him in the flesh made your heart skip a few beats. The two of you had been communicating on and off for a while now since the private shows had started. You knew mixing work and pleasure wasn’t smart but fuck, you had it bad for this guy.

There was a sense of relief washing over you. He’d be here, he’d take care of this mess. Maybe you’d finally see him and not through a computer screen. You knew things had escalated with him although neither of you had really properly addressed it.

“Please whatever is up there, if I survive this I’m fucking telling him I’m in love with him” You whispered to yourself. This possibly couldn’t be your last day on earth.

Something screeching and something akin to a human scream startled you. You hugged your knees closer and tried not to breath loudly. Gunshots and more screams could be heard.

Then something came crashing into the installation where you were hiding. Your scream was imposible to hold in. The creature was screeching so loudly, a sound that left your ears ringing.

Adrenaline made you run out as fast as you humanly could. You heard the great strides it took to catch up to you. This was it wasn’t it? You were gonna die?

Your legs kept pushing you forward even as your muscles burned with pain. Your eyes hurt from crying and your throat felt like it was sandpaper. Something like a claw reaching for your hair made you close your eyes. There was no way you wanted to see how this ended for you.

Two shots.

Loud and so very clear, the sound coming out of left field made you trip and fall. The screening fortunately had stopped.

“Miss?! You’re safe! Hey! You gotta get out of here now!” That voice you knew all to well. You looked up and saw red and a stone hand.

“R-red...” Your voice was small, a sob catching in your throat.

“Y/N!?” He was shocked, eyes wide as he knelt in front of you.

You weren’t sure how your body moved or if he moved you but somehow you’d ended up with your arms around him sobbing into his neck. Hellboy held you tightly, whispering that you were safe, an array of cusses slipped out as he breathed heavily.

The knowledge that you were here, if he’d been a millisecond too late, all crashed down on him as he picked you up and carried you to safety.

You could’ve died, was all that ran through his head.

You’re alive, was all that ran through yours.

_______________

One helicopter ride, a medical exam and a shower later you found yourself at the home base of the B.P.R.D. A nice young woman by the name of Alice had loaned you some clothes and had taken you to Hellboy’s room to wait. A debriefing was happening and all you could do was sit tight.

You resolved to canceling all your cam shows for the week stating you had fallen terribly ill. There was no way you could work, your hands were still shaking as you typed out the post and notified your one on one shows. It felt like hours as you sat on the couch, you had looked around at his room, seeing and array of personal items that made up his personality.

Such a big part of you often dreamt about this but your nerves had you glued to your spot.

The door opened and Hellboy came barreling in like a tornado. You flinched and bit too hard on your already chewed off nail, so much for that manicure.

“I’m so sorry, I wanted to leave that stupid meeting but it’s fucking mandatory because Daimio thinks it’s necessary, asshole that guy I tell ya-“ He took in your state, the still slight tremble in your hands, the few scrapes here and there. You looked small and scared and it absolutely destroyed him.

In his silence he made his way towards the coffee table and sat in front of you. “You know I often fantasized what it be like to see you in the flesh, this wasn’t how it usually went I promise” He smiled and for the first time in this piss filled day, so did you.

“How would it go?” You asked softly.

“Some mood light, a little wine maybe some music” The two of you chuckled. Your chuckles quickly dissolved in you trying to hold back your tears.

You were almost killed tonight, the shock would take some time to subside. “Hey hey kid, it’s ok, I’ve got you. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you on my watch” Hellboy’s flesh hand rested on your knees.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his shoulder. “...When I read you guys were sent out, I really got excited that I’d finally see you” You felt his flesh hand stroke your hair.

“I’m in love with you” You blurted out, his hand going to still. “I said, if I’m making it out of this alive I’m telling him, so I’m telling you...” You looked up at him, e/c meeting his golden ones.

“I-Im not dancing around this no more, I’m tired of pretending that what’s been going on isn’t just some work thing that I do, fuck, I love you I really do and I think you do too” Your mouth want dry again, the scratchy sensation making you swallow.

Hellboy searched out your eyes, something in his head was going a mile a minute. Was he searching for a lie? Something disingenuous?

That all died when he lunged forward and kissed you.

A kiss that truly and utterly left no worry.

You were kissing Hellboy. You were gripping Hellboy by the scruff of his shirt. The way his lips molded against yours, the abnormal warmth to them, the softness to them, the roughness of his scruff.

Pulling back for air felt obligated but he’d insisted by pressing the stumps of his horns against your forehead. “Wow...that’s...so much better than I could’ve imagined” He was star struck in a way and it honest to god made you laugh.

The days events took a back seat for now you wanted to take in the being before you. You scanned everything you normally did while on cam with him. Your hands explored his face, running across scars and hair.

Then you remembered what lay to his right and your heart raced.

You gripped his stone hand, fascinated by the texture of stone, how he held your hand with so much regard to his strength. The patterns, the markings everything has you entranced.

“Extraordinary” Was all you could muster as you rubbed on what would be the inside f his wrist. “I’m sorry, is this weirding you out?” You looked at Hellboy only to find him grinning. “Having a beautiful girl touch me? Yes it’s completely weirding me out” He mocked and you couldn’t help but playfully shove him.

“God I need a beer, can we...?” He was leaning over toward the mini fridge next to the couch and pulling said drinks out. “Read my mind, beautiful” He offered one towards you.

This morning you were going about a normal routine, and now after a near death experience you were in the room of a man you had been falling in love with for months. The twist and turns of life.

Around round 3 you’d excused yourself to use the bathroom. As you washed your hands and saw your normal pristine face a little worn down from the stressful events you frowned.

But there you stood in Hellboy’s bathroom. Surrounded by things all him. The tips of your fingers ran through a brush of his. This was a reality right now.

You stepped out and caught him shrugging off his coat. Busying your thumbnail again at your teeth you watched his now visible arms flex with the movements.

“All good?” He smiled leaning against the dresser.

There was a pregnant pause in which the two of you merely just ogled one another from across the bed.

You moved first.

You walked over the bed and stood on it, you reached out a hand that he took without hesitation and with the extra height from the bed you met in a heated kiss face to face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his around your hips.

In a wordless haste you yanked at his black T-shirt and busied yourself with taking off yours. He watched mesmerized, as always, the revealing of your skin.

The image before you though, god you wanted to scream.

Hellboy undoing his belt and swiftly yanking the whole thing out of the belt loops without breaking eye contact. Off were your pants, and on was him as he took you down on the bed.

It was a haze, breathless kisses and chants of desire. He one handed the button of your jeans and his own. The brief separation to take the offending items off had the two of you giggling almost. In record time he was back on you and you welcomed it with a ferocity to your kisses. Tongue slipping into his mouth, you swallowed a groan of his that vibrated all the way to your cunt.

He was here, you were here. Physically.

You grinned as he trailed kisses over both your covered breast. “Take-fuck-take it off please, now right now” You felt the air leave your lungs when he simply broke the bra in half and met his reward, two beautifully round breasts he had craved more than any meal. Hellboy pressed his face between them and inhaled before leaving a series of bites and marks. Each time he bit down your raised your hips in search of friction.

The heaviness in the air, the warmth of him lapping and sucking at your breast. The heated tongue wrapping around a nipple. Hellboy devoured you, and if your breast had him like this...

“Baby please, wanna touch you too” Your hands ran down his back, sharp nails leaving a path. Hellboy shuddered as he left a nipple with a loud pop. “Go on, I’m all yours” That very comment sent a gush of heat and you bit your lip to hold a moan in.

You nudged him to lay on his back and you climbed on top of him. Hands running over your body, the feeling of that stone hand gently cupping your rear was enough to make you grind down on him with purpose.

“I promised you something every time we spoke, you remember what that was?” You rubbed yourself on him as you began to trail down his body. Hellboy’s eyes were fogged with lust. “Oh, you remember” You kissed his stomach, nails scratching his sides before hooking into the waistband of his underwear.

He was going to have a stroke.

Hellboy watched you slide his underwear down. Eyes hungry and mouth engulfing his cock. He bucked up without meaning to but you caught most of the onslaught by closing up your throat. A minor choke and you were back on track.

Fuck he was big and thick, you did your best swallowing as much as possible before settling the rest with your hand to jerk. The gut punched groan that left him egging you on. He saw your head bob, the way your lips stretched around his length, the blissed out look as you sucked earnestly. “Shit shit, you look beautiful” Hellboy reached a left hand across your cheek.

Letting him go with a breathy inhale, spit on your chin you jerked him lazily.

He was putting this look away for a rainy day. You had no right looking so utterly debauched and perfect.

“C’mere and kiss me, beautiful” Hellboy whispered softly and you obeyed crawling on him to meet him in a sensual slow lip lock.

Underwear gone, or more so also ripped apart. You were now on top of him about to guide his cock into your drenched hole. The initial burn was actually delicious, that breach between pain and pleasure sending a delightful shock through your body. Once fully seated on him you reveled in stretch and burn. “God this is, fuck I-“ You moaned as you tested with a sway of your hips, he was hitting your spot perfectly. You rested your hands on his chest and he gripped your waist.

Hellboy was gone, the sight of you riding him, lost in your pleasure caused by him nevertheless. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever see. Lost to it all you fell forwards, burying your face in his neck. Your impending release had you stuttering your hips. “I got you baby, I got you” He muttered against your ear. You moaned as he held you, hips pistoning upwards to drive that orgasm out of you.

It crashed something fierce, running all over your body and coming out as a scream against his neck. You felt limp as a noodle but held onto him as he fucked his way through yours. When he came he yanked another orgasm out of you along with his.

The two of you laid there, a mess of limbs clutching at each other. Hearts racing, lungs trying to catch up.

Exhaustion won. You fell a sleep on Hellboy, still inside of you, his mouth against your temple.

There was no turning back now.

#hellboy #hellboy x fem!reader #hellboy x reader insert #hellboy 2019 #hellboy x reader #female reader insert #reader insert #sequel fic #n*fw

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Note

Omg could you do something with Where Is My Mind + love at first sight + Nix 😬👀💙 #imahopelessromanticcauseimacancersunplsdontsueme

Eee thank you for the request!! <3

Nixon stepped out onto the pavement and exhaled into the cool night. He turned his face up to the sky, eyes closed, and drank in the fresh air. His head was swimming; his thoughts were tangled together, their sharpness only softened by the liquor coursing through his veins.

“You good, Nix?” a voice sounded from behind him. He turned, having momentarily forgotten the friends that had exited behind him.

“Yep,” he said. He continued to relish in the crisp night air as he followed Harry Welsh and Ronald Speirs down the cobbled road. The summer chill was the only thing that made him feel anything anymore. Nixon had achieved the muscle memory needed to get through the pattern of the day and beyond that, he had successfully numbed the senses that remained. But the night sky - oh it was refreshing.

The night was quiet. The sound of distant merriment drifted up from town but the road the men travelled was deserted. Their heavy boots clopped against the stones in a hypnotizing rhythm. Very few words were exchanged between them and they were comfortable with the companionable silence as they made their way into town.

Suddenly, around one street corner, the men erupted onto a busy street of pooled with golden light and cheery soldiers.

“This should be interesting, gentleman,” Harry said, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. The officers took in the raucous groups of men walking from one bar to another whilst exchanging money, drinks, and calling out at the women brave enough to imbibe with them.

The sweet smell of fresh night air was quickly overcome with the smell of perspiration and alcohol; a scent Nixon was more familiar with but preferred far less.   “Where to?” Speirs asked as his dark eyes tracked a pair of soldiers who passed just a little too close to them.

Nixon was overstimulated by the action around him. He watched one inebriated group then another with an semi-conscious fascination as Speirs and Welsh made a game plan. He watched as one soldier grabbed another by the lapels and said something sternly. The soldiers then dissolved into a fit of laughter. They wrapped their arms around each other and began to stumble down the street. From behind where they stood, a beautiful woman came into view.

Nixon’s heart stopped. Suddenly, the surrounding festivities blurred from his attention and his gaze zoomed in to focus on her. She had a thin red ribbon tied into her dark hair. Her features were soft, and even from that distance Nixon could see that her lips were shaped like a cupid’s bow. Her face kept moving out of view as she laughed with the people she stood with. Nixon stretched his neck to try to get a better glimpse of her but before he could she was disappearing through a doorway lost from view between other people Nixon could care less about.

“Want to start in here?” Harry gestured to the bar closest to them on the left.

Nixon barely heard him, he was already walking towards the establishment the woman disappeared into.

“Guess we’re going this way,” Harry said dryly.

Nixon moved like a man on a mission. He couldn’t lose the girl with the red ribbon in her hair. He didn’t know why but he had to find her and…and what? What was he going to do? He hadn’t thought that far but everything in him ached to see her one more time.

He passed through the doorway she had disappeared into, Speirs and Welsh hot behind him, and emerged into a darkly lit bar full of people. A live band was playing against the far wall of the bar; it was nostalgic of a time before the war.

“Nix! Nixon!” Welsh called after him, “Nix, what’s going on?”

Nixon looked hopelessly around the jam-packed bar. There was no way he was going to find her in all of this.

“Captain Nixon,” Speirs shouted over the music, “who are you looking for?” Nixon was sure he looked like a mad man scanning the crowd.

He turned to his friends, “it’s this, this - a girl, I don’t know who, I just saw her.”

Welsh and Speirs exchanged a look. “What’s she look like?” Welsh asked.

“She had dark hair, long dark hair. And it was like, tied back,” Nixon gestured to his own hair, “with a red ribbon.”

“Did she just walk in?” Speirs asked.  “Yes! She’s gotta be in here somewhere,” Nixon said. For ten minutes or so the men forced their way around the bar searching for Nixon’s mystery girl, but she was no where to be found.

“Let’s at least get a drink,” Welsh suggested. After another struggle through groups of bodies the three men found themselves ordering at the bar.

“You sure she wasn’t a hallucination?” Welsh joked, sipping his beer.

Nixon nodded confidently, “I’m sure! She’s gotta be in here.”

“There’s plenty of other girls,-” Speirs began to say.

“No, not like her.”

“Are you in love or something?” Welsh laughed, but when Nixon didn’t respond, he said, “have you lost your mind?”

“I just gotta get another look another look at her!” Nixon insisted. He gripped his drink in frustration and scanned the room desperately.

But an hour passed without any sighting of her. Welsh and Speirs began to grow bored with the crowd.

“You okay with moving on?” Welsh asked tentatively, “maybe you’ll run into her somewhere else.”

“Maybe she left,” Speirs said. Nixon gave the crowd another desperate scan. There were lots of beautiful women in the bar that night, but none of them held a light to the beautiful stranger who was beginning to feel like a figment of his imagination.

Nixon glanced back down at his new drink, “sure, let me just finish this.”

“No rush,” Welsh assured him, and settled back onto his stool, content that they would be leaving soon.  

Nixon barely had a gulp left when the music shifted; it slowed down and a woman appeared in front of the microphone.

“Harry, Harry!” Nixon nearly stood up in excitement.

“What?” Welsh looked around frantically.

“That’s her!” Speirs and Welsh followed the direction of his finger which pointed towards the woman who was now crooning out a sweet ballad above the couples who swayed to the music.

“That’s her?” Speirs asked.

“That’s her,” Nixon grinned. His eyes were glued on her. He took in the beautiful face that had bewitched him in a matter of seconds. Her voice matched her looks and Nixon decided he had never heard anything so enchanting in his life. She must have felt his gaze, or read his thoughts, because she caught his eye and smiled. Nixon’s heart flip-flopped at that radiant smile. The sight of her seemed to clear everything from his head. For the first time in a long time he felt as if he could think; colors seemed brighter, the music sweeter, his whiskey less necessary.

“Look at him!” Welsh laughed, “he’s like a love sick school boy!” Speirs laughed and clapped Nixon on the shoulder.

“It hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen a woman!” Speirs laughed.

“Keep laughing boys,” Nixon threw back the rest of his drink with a grin, “just watch, I’m gonna marry that girl one day.”

#request game #band of brothers #one shot #lewis nixon

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mummybear · 4 years

Text

Getting Into Trouble

This Is Day 5 Of Roleplay May

Words: 4114

Warnings: Smut, Wall Sexy, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Think That’s It :P

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, (Marie) Reader’s Best Friend (OC), Sam Winchester, Unnamed Club Bitches

Summary: Meeting your best friend Marie at your local nightclub turns out to be a more exciting night that you had originally planned. Especially when your favourite doorman is on duty and doesn’t take his eyes off of you all night. This is also for @deanwanddamons1Kfollowerchallenge So happy for you babe you deserve it :D I had the prompt ..... ‘Sometimes you need it so bad, it’s enough to drive a young girl mad.’

A cold chill whips through the summer air as you step out of the cab, quickly leaning inside the window to pay the driver. It doesn’t take long for you to approach the steps of the club, it’s a small but popular place. A place which had been quickly growing in popularity, largely thanks to the hot staff it had recently acquired, both inside and outside of the establishment. At least that’s what you had heard, however, you and your best friend Marie had been coming here for years before the change.

A small smile slips onto your lips when you spot your favourite bouncer and doorman, right at the front of the crowd standing on the very first step. He’s looking as handsome as ever, light brown hair styled just so, green eyes that are practically shining with that bad boy twinkle when he winks at you.

He’s not as wide as the other guys, but he towers over them in height. With broad shoulders that you’ve often imagined clinging to and bow legs like no other man you’d ever seen. He’s dressed simply, but god does he wear all black extremely well. Tight black t-shirt, which you know from experience has the word security printed on the back in white block letters, with what look like tailor made pants and smart black shoes.

“Hey there sweetheart, long time no see” he greets you, just as friendly and charming as ever, with a gorgeous grin that’s all perfect teeth and plump lips. He takes your ID from you, letting his fingers gently graze yours, quickly glancing at it before he hands it back.

“Yeah it’s been a while, you’re still looking real good though” you smile sweetly, the tip of your tongue poking out between your lips as your eyes rake over him, appreciating every perfect inch of that man.

“Uh, thanks” the blush that coats his freckled cheeks is so cute, you would’ve thought he was used to the compliments by now. He licks hips plump pink lips and flicks his eyes up to meet yours again. “You’re lookin’ pretty damn sexy yourself” he rasps, voice sounding a little deeper than before as he nips at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Hopefully I’ll see you later and you’ll finally tell me your name this time” you smile back, returning his earlier wink and tucking your ID back in your bag.

“I’d really like that. Just don’t go and get yourself into any trouble. I will throw you over my shoulder this time” he warns you playfully, you don’t miss how he lets his eyes shamelessly rake over your body.

You have to practically press your body against his to get inside, what with the amount of people trying to squeeze inside all at once. You look up at him through your black lashes, giving him your best seductive look. “Oh, promises, promises Mr green eyes. I might just have to get myself into a little trouble then” you wink as he shakes his head at you, giving you a gentle shove inside.

“Go! I’ve gotta work!” he laughs, finally turning away from you.

The moment that you actually step into the club you realise just how busy it really is tonight. There’s the odd cluster of people here and there blocking your path. People that you almost have to fight your way through, as well as the idiots paying no attention and filtering in and out, being stopped by the doormen and bouncers for god only knows what reason.

The music is quite literally pumping, to the point that you can feel the vibrations under your feet. You really need a damn drink right now and the bar is completely packed. You were really happy with your outfit tonight though, choosing it hadn’t been too difficult once you’d found the right dress. It fit your body perfectly, it was black and purple and stopped a little above your knees. Luckily your heels weren’t too high, since you were definitely planning on dancing tonight, preferably without getting blisters.

You sigh defeated, seeing the size of the lines at the bar, as they continue to grow before your eyes.

Until you spot your best friend waving at you from her usual table by the bar. Relief fills you as you get ever closer, where you notice that she’s already gotten a few rounds at the table and of course she couldn’t forgo the shots. That would definitely save you the wait, meaning that you could get this night started right.

“So, I see Mr green eyes is back, he asked about you by the way,” Marie practically shouts into your ear as she pulls you into a hug.

“Yes he is and considering he works here babe, that’s not too strange” you laugh, ignoring her final comment, you pull back to look at her. “Oh and hello to you too by the way”

“Sorry love I’ll behave. Or I’ll try at least” she winks as you both take your seats. You shake your head at her with a wry smile, unable to stop the scoff falling past your lips.

“Yeah that’ll be the day, you’re worse than me!” laughing as you clink your shot glasses together, resting a hand over her heart Marie gasps. “Down the hatch, you dork!” you shout over the loud music and that fake hurt dissolves almost immediately making way for her devilish grin beneath.

Your time together is filled with conversations of mutual friends and things you’d both done since last meeting up. Not forgetting the unsuccessful dates you had both been on, Marie can’t help but remark that you’re sexually frustrated. “I dunno what you’re talking about honey, I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. Me and Mr Vibrator have it very much under control” you wink when she snorts with laughter, almost choking on her drink.

“Oh that is not the fucking same Y/N! And you damn well know it!” replying through a laugh while pushing another shot towards you. You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile at her. You’d really missed this and as usual Marie understood more than she knew. “Nothing like a good hard fucking, which you so clearly need!”

“I am not fucking some stranger! You know that’s just not me, besides who says some random guy is gonna be any good” you reason as she shrugs at your answer.

“Doesn’t have to be a complete and total stranger. We both know someone who is just dying to get into those twisted panties of yours. Pretty sure that’s a man who knows his way around a woman” she winks, nodding over to where Mr green eyes is now standing, clearly it was time for a switch around at the club, since he’d come inside with one of his buddies and was chatting about something.

“Would you drop it woman! That man is so far out of my league. So can I please just have a great night out with my girl!” you sigh pushing another shot towards her with a pout.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. But he would be lucky to get in those pants” you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile as you take your next shot, she’d always been the best wing woman going.

The drinks keep flowing, thanks to the hot barman that Marie is currently waving at, he had apparently been trying to hook up with her for a while, but she was adamant they were only friends. It doesn’t take very long for the two of you to have a steady buzz going, after around five shots each and whatever cocktails she’d ordered before you’d got there.

“I wanna dance, come on. Please” your friend pouts at you, grabbing at your hand and dragging you off in the direction of the dance floor, she doesn’t give you time to argue.

Those puppy dog eyes she gives you tends to always do the trick. Although, if you were being honest you were also in the mood for a dance, to try and get some of the pent up energy out of your system. Keeping your fingers crossed that hopefully you could stop your mind from wandering, back to that sexy green eyed doorman, which thanks to your wing woman was becoming increasingly difficult.

The music was practically vibrating through your entire body as you and Marie stepped onto the dance floor. Christina Aguilera’s Dirty had just started playing, you glance up and spot Mr green eyes across the room, he was with another doorman now, the only guy that you were aware of who was actually taller than him. To your surprise he’s looking right at you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Marie walks behind you and grabs your hips, pressing herself tight against your back.

“What are you doing woman!” you laugh as she rests her chin on your shoulder, the two of you start to rock to the beat in time with one another, raising your arms in the air as you continue to rock back against her.

“Just go with it! He has not stopped staring at you since we stood up. Not to mention he’s with the tallest man I’ve ever seen and I’ve got the sudden urge to go man climbing”

You burst out laughing at the serious way she says that, “Want a ride on man mountain huh?” you ask still half laughing as both continue moving to the beat, Marie giggles behind you as the beat speeds up. You’re slowly becoming more distracted as you watch them both move closer, your own hands start moving over your body, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

You drop down slowly, your ass pressing back into Marie, until you settle back on the heels of your feet, thinking back to a move in the music video for this song. You can feel the muscles of your calves and thighs tense as you lean forward slightly. Slowly sliding your hands down your thighs, stopping at your knees as you part your legs and quickly snap them shut again. Standing slowly, you keep your eyes fixed on Mr. Green eyes, whose fists are currently clenched at his sides.

You don’t notice the way that his friend is staring at Marie as you push back into her with your ass, both of you laughing as she swats at it playfully and wraps her arms around you from behind.

However, your happy moods are soon ruined when a drunk group of girls fight to get past you, the one at the front bumps into you and Marie, nearly knocking you both on your asses.

“Watch where you’re going!” she slurs shoving at your shoulders, causing you to stumble back a little unsteady on your heels.

“I’m sorry. What the hell are you talking about? You’re the one who’s clearly drunk off their ass here. You walked into us!” you shout back over the music, resisting the urge to shove her back.

“Get your bitch in line. Nobody talks to my sister like that” one of the other girls squawks, sounding like an angry bird, as they all step closer to the both of you.

“What did you just fucking call her!” Marie snaps, stepping closer to the group. Where she receives a chorus of ‘you heard’ from the group of idiots. “Get your moron sister in line then, if she can’t walk straight she probably shouldn’t be here. She’s clearly had too much and needs to get her childish ass home!” Marie responds irritation lacing her tone as she tries to reason with these people. Just about managing to dodge out of the way just in time to avoid another shove.

“Stop fucking shoving people” you practically growl, finally your control snaps, shoving back as hard as you can, sending one of the girls stumbling back into the group.

“You stupid slut!” the defender shouts, raising her fist. But she’s quickly blocked by a large body and hand that’s twice the size catches her balled up fist.

“I warned you! You’re coming with me, Miss” someone growls to your side, you recognise that voice instantly, you can’t help but grin happily. Not quick enough to move away or turn to look at him properly before he throws you over one of those broad shoulders, causing you to let out an excited scream..

Your eyes search for Marie when you hear her over the music somehow. Finding her in an almost identical position to your own. Once she’s thrown over the giant's shoulder Marie gives you a thumbs up, smacking his ass as he walks away with her. The scenery behind you bumps around, swaying awkwardly as you’re carried through several doors, clinging to the back of his t-shirt for dear life as he walks..

Another door is kicked open, where you feel the cool breeze blow across your almost naked ass.

“So, where are we going Mr. mysterious?” you question, your voice dipping with his every step.

When suddenly the back door to the club swings closed behind you with a loud bang.

A surprised noise you don’t recognise leaves your lips when he returns your earlier hit. With a harsh slap to your ass. Since apparently your dress had ridden up, it was a little more skin on skin that you’d been expecting.

You hear him chuckle, right before he tugs the bottom of your dress down and bends over, carefully lowering you until your feet touch the ground again.You look up at him with a smile when his hands grab your hips, making sure that you’re stable on your own.

Running your hands up his strong chest, your touch remains light, enjoying the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt. It’s really dark out here, with no real light. Only a few neon lights to light the alley way.

“I’m not sure that I approve of you manhandling-” your words are silenced when his plump lips suddenly press against yours, with an urgency you hadn’t expected.

Your hands fist in his tight t-shirt in an attempt to pull his body closer, while he walks you backwards and presses you into the wall. You feel his tongue brush against your lips when they part, gripping your leg tight he hooks it over his hip, rolling his hips into you. You can feel the bulge through his black pants, pressing against the front of your panties, nudging repeatedly at your clit. The way he feels against you only encourages you to rock back against him.

Your tongues finally meet and you can taste the faint whiskey that lingers there, somehow you knew he’d be a whiskey man.

Your hands move to fist in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours and the groan that fills the back of his throat, he even manages to pull a small moan slips past your lips.

“Name’s Dean by the way” he breathes against your lips, before pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

“Y/N. Fuck…. Dean suits you,” you reply in a breathy moan, throwing your head back against the brick wall as he starts kissing down your neck, pausing to suck and nip marks into your skin.

“Wanted to do this for so long. Getting me told off every time you come in sweetheart, can’t damn well concentrate on the job” he groans against your ear, pushing your dress up around your waist so he can grip your ass tight with those big calloused hands.

“Me too, I would say I was sorry, but I don’t wanna lie” you confess with a half-hearted giggle, gasping when his finger brushes against your soaked pussy from behind, briefly dipping under your panties.

Your hands slip between the two of you. Dean leans back a little, catching on to what you’re doing, allowing you to undo his belt while he pushes a hand between your legs. You whimper when his fingers start to run back and forth over the front of your damn panties.

Once his pants are open you shove them down those gorgeous bow legs as far as you can. Dean lets out a throaty groan when your fingers wrap around his thick hard length. Letting his forehead drop forward against yours when you start to move your hand over him, up and down, feeling the thick muscle throb against your palm.

“You’re so wet baby, can’t wait to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock” Dean whispered huskily against your lips, pushing your panties to the side, he eases two thick fingers inside you.

Your free hand clings to his bicep, looking into his eyes as your pussy stretches deliciously around his fingers. The perfect drag against your tight walls as he starts moving his fingers inside you, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

“Dean, fuck me. Please. I need you inside me” you whine desperately, rolling your hips down into his hand, pushing his fingers deeper.

Chuckling deep and breathy, Dean curls his fingers teasingly as your thumb swipes across the swollen tip, smearing the thick pre-come down his length.

Which triggers you both to moan into each other's mouths.

Pulling your hands away from one another, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, as he sucks his slick covered fingers between his plump lips. Transfixed you watch the way his tongue swirls around his fingers and he moans, keeping his darkened green eyes locked on yours. As he pulls them from his mouth with an audible pop.

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice sweetheart” he tells you with a grin and that panty dropping wink.

You can faintly hear the music that’s playing in the club, the bass pounding against your back. The lyrics you manage to hear work so damn well for your current situation and you’re almost convinced that Marie had requested it.

‘Sometimes you need it so bad, it’s enough to drive a young girl mad.’

You jump when he taps your leg, that bad boy twinkle still very much present in those gorgeous eyes of his. He lifts you easily, slamming you back against the wall. You whimper at the force of it, the rough brick scraping against your back and arms, as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Gripping his cock Dean watches it slip through your slick folds, his own lips parting, pulling breathy moans and whimpers from you. “You want my cock sweetheart? You want it hard, right where anyone could see us?” Dean rasps, fingers digging into your ass as he shifts you slightly.

“Fuck yes! Please, Dean!”

Your hands push into the hair at the back of his neck gripping tightly when he finally stops teasing and lines up with your entrance. Catching his bottom lip between your lips you suck gently, before dragging your teeth over it as he slowly enters your welcoming heat.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you squeeze your eyes shut, finally releasing his lip when he thrusts up into you hard, causing the rough bricks to cut into your back.

Dean hisses in pain when your fingers dig into his scalp, hair woven between your fingers as you tug. Pulling back he repeats the action, quickly thrusting his hips forward roughly plunging back into your soaking wet pussy.

Picking up a slow steady rhythm, deep and powerful, his teeth tug at the skin along your collarbone, creating a little sting of pain which only adds to the pleasure. Tugging the front of your dress out of the way with the cup of your bra, he keeps those green eyes locked on yours as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tugging with his plump lips and sharp teeth. Groaning against your skin he swirls that talented tongue around the slowly hardening bud, the snap of his hips pushing your heels into his firm ass.

You’re forced to slap a hand over your mouth when he thrusts particularly hard, to stop yourself from screaming his name, feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to wind and clench as the head of his cock bumps repeatedly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

There’s the obvious feeling when his lips pull into a smile against your breast, he draws back, dragging those perfect white teeth over the stiff peak. One of his big hands wraps around your wrists and pins them back against the wall as his thrusts begin to speed up.

“Don’t hold it in. Wanna fucking here you screaming for me. I don’t care who hears you begging for my cock” he practically growls, fingers flexing against your ass cheek as the blunt nails dig into your skin.

Your head is swimming with his words, every feeling amplified by the thought of anyone catching you both in the act. “Holy shit you’ve got a dirty mouth, Dean” you pant against his lips, nails digging into your palms. The scratching of the rough brick as it drags against your soft skin, causes you to whimper with every snap of his hips.

“And don’t you just love it, bad girl,” he grunts with an edge of a chuckle, when he feels your pussy starting to flutter around his cock, squeezing and clamping down. Your only answer is filled with nonsensical and incoherent sentences, the only thing that comes out clearly is the chanting of his name, with a mixture of mumbled cussing and pleas.

Your thighs start to shake as Dean squeezes a hand between the two of you, rough calloused fingers pressing against your clit, hard fast circles as his fingers tighten around your wrists.

“Fuck Dean! Just like that, please!”

Your head drops back against the wall, only seeing the black night sky and stars, which starts to mix with the neon lights as the feeling overwhelms you. Your orgasm hits you hard, rocketing through your every nerve ending like lightning, but Dean doesn’t stop thrusting.

“Son of bitch! Should have done this ages ago. So damn perfect Y/N. Gonna fucking fill you up sweetheart”

Clenching his jaw Dean presses his face into your neck, his hot breath against your skin.

The hand that’s gripping your wrists drops, resting against the wall as he bucks into your pussy at an uncontrollable pace, your slick soaking his thighs.

The vibrations of his every growl and moan, mixed with the pounding of his hips. Only serving to prolong your orgasm, so much so that you’re forced into another mind blowing climax, pushing Dean into his own release right behind you. You feel his orgasm hit, causing his thighs to shake under your ass.

A huff of air is released from your lungs when Dean practically collapses on top of you, leaning on his hand as much as possible.

You quickly feel his weight shift as he pulls his chest away from yours slightly, you feel him smile against your lips when he presses a kiss to them. You can’t help but whimper at the loss and sensitivity when he pulls his hips back, his softening cock slipping from inside you.

“Did I miss something? What’s so funny. Mr green eyes?” you smile back, still breathing a little heavily as he helps you rearrange your dress and pulls up his black pants and boxers.

Shrugging he turns to look over his shoulder, following his line of sight your heart almost jumps out of your chest. There’s a security camera sitting just under the guttering, red light blinking away undisturbed.

“I guess for someone in security I probably should’ve remembered that was there, huh?” he laughs still out of breath, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You think!?” you exclaim doing your best to sound annoyed, until the laughter starts to bubble up in your throat. “Get your ass in there and get that video!” you playfully scold him, making sure to smack that tight little ass.

“You want me to wipe it from the record?” he asks with a smirk and that bad boy twinkle in his eyes.

Biting your lip you shake your head, “Just do what you need to. Get it and let's go”

“You’re a bad influence on me sweetheart” the wink he throws your way says otherwise.

“I might have believed that, if you hadn’t just fucked my brains out, in the alley against the building where you work” you laugh gently pushing him towards the back door you’d both left through earlier.

“Touche” Dean chuckles, grabbing your hand and tugging you inside.

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vincess-princess · 4 years

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Valentine’s Special

a belated present from me for the Valentine’s day and at the same time a completed request for @cometsnix <3 sorry for making you wait so long, dude, i hope you like it :)

Fandom: Motley Crue Rating: T Pairing: Mick Mars\Nikki Sixx Word count: 1990 Warnings: lovestruck Nikki and an unhealthy obsession with blue eyes Summary: What do you do when you have no money and a local bar sells Valentine’s specials at a discount? Right, you and your friend pretend to be a couple. Author’s note: basically a little silly ficlet :) haven’t really written fluff for a long time, so this one was fun to do.

“Ew,” Nikki kicked a cardboard heart that was displayed at the entrance of the bar. “The most stupid holiday in existence. Who even came up with that bullshit?”

“Some gay priest or something,” Vince shrugged. “Dunno, man, girls like it. I tell you, your chances of hooking up on Valentines are way higher than usual. If you know how to act, of course.”

“For you, maybe,” Nikki waved his hand. “But I’m not gonna pretend to be romantic and all that stuff just for a hook-up. They gotta accept the real me, you see?”

“Nobody wants the real you, dude,” Vince laughed. “Especially girls. Anyway, are we entering, or?...”

“I’m in if girls are in,” Tommy smiled widely.

“That’s my boy,” Vince patted his shoulder. Nikki wanted to laugh at how he had to rise on his tiptoes to do that, but then he noticed Mick, who was following them silently, as he always did. He was looking at the cardboard heart lying in the dirt by the bar door. His face was devoid of emotion, but his eyes glinted strangely in the dim light of the bar’s neon sign.

Then he raised his head and looked straight at Nikki, and Nikki felt goosebumps running down his back. He quickly picked up the cardboard heart and put it back in its place.

“What, is our badass Nikki Sixx afraid of getting caught?” Vince, of course, had to comment, but Nikki didn’t even hear him. He turned away from Mick and pushed the door, trying to shake off the strange feeling a second of eye contact with Mick had given him.

The bar was almost full, mostly with couples whispering to each other and laughing too loudly at each other’s jokes. Vince spotted a couple of girls sitting at the bar and eyeing every man who entered, touched Tommy by the shoulder and nodded at them. Tommy’s face lit up. The girls weren’t even that pretty, but those two could fuck whatever moved and what didn’t move they would move themselves and fuck as well.

“Pick a table, guys,” Vince said to Nikki and, pulled by Tommy, headed to the bar, not looking back even once.

Mick and Nikki looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison.

“I swear, they only think about one thing,” Mick murmured. “Let’s go find a table.” He turned around and looked over the bar. The only free places were either at the counter or at little tables for two. Damn it.

“Looks like someone will have to move,” Nikki said mischievously, nodding at the closest booth. The couple inside was in the middle of a passionate kiss.

Mick raised an eyebrow, and Nikki immediately felt like an idiot. Mick was very good at that.

“They can kiss perfectly well at a table for two!” he began, but Mick stopped him with a wave of a hand.

“Go on, hero,” he only said, but Nikki could see a smile in the corners of his mouth. Something warm as though spilled into his chest. Mick didn’t smile that often.

The couple didn’t stop kissing even as he appeared at the table, only letting each other go when he grabbed the guy’s shoulder. “Hey, lovebirds, time to move. Me and my friends need a table.”

The girl looked at him misty-eyed, probably still processing the kiss. The guy, though, understood everything perfectly well and began to go red with anger. Nikki couldn’t measure his height while the guy was sitting, but his shoulders were way wider than his own.

“We were here first!” the dude began.

“Yeah, yeah, heard that,” Nikki interrupted him. In these situations, being outrageously impudent was sometimes the best choice. Sometimes. “You two can move to that table ri-i-ght there,” he pointed at a small table in the corner with dirty plates still on it. “Atmosphere, privacy, music, it’s perfect! Come on, come on,” Nikki pulled the guy out of the booth by the shoulder. For a second he thought that the couple would actually move to that table, but then the guy flexed his muscles threateningly and grabbed Nikki by the collar of his jacket. Well, damn, this bar surely could use a little shake-up today.

Nikki’s back slammed against the wall. The girl screamed “Jordan!” behind their backs. The guy let go of one side of Nikki’s collar, but only to clench his hand into a fist, which then would certainly collide with Nikki’s nose.

But then a thin palm with long, delicate fingers landed on Jordan’s arm and grasped it firmly, holding it in place.

“Hold your horses, Jordan,” Mick said calmly. He looked absolutely relaxed, and only Nikki and the guy himself could notice how deep those fingers dug into his skin. “Be considerate for once in your life and move to that goddamn table.”

Jordan slowly turned his head and looked Mick in the eye, and Nikki realized with a shudder that Mick was way shorter and slimmer than the guy. Why did he even interfere, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to fight him off since Nikki, with his six-feet height plus four-inch heels wasn’t intimidating enough for him?

Nikki could handle getting beaten, it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last, but he somehow really didn’t want Mick to get hurt because of him.

Seconds passed. Jordan looked at Mick and Mick looked at Jordan, with his icy blue eyes that always left Nikki slightly uncomfortable, and Nikki kept expecting Jordan to punch Mick and the fight to begin. He could already feel his fists clenching at the thought of the guy hitting Mick, and the goosebumps of anticipation running down his neck and back.

Then Jordan’s grip on his collar weakened.

“Okay,” he said, and Nikki only now realized he was holding his breath. Jordan released him and moved to the table in the corner, his girl following him unconfidently and repeatedly shooting glances at Mick and Nikki.

“Wow,” Nikki mumbled, turning to Mick. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Well, calmed him down like that,” Nikki felt stupid under Mick’s unblinking gaze. “I thought he was gonna break my nose for sure.”

“Not everything has to be solved with violence, Sixx,” Mick waved his hand. “Now, are you waiting for someone else to occupy that hard-earned table?”

“Yeah, sure,” Nikki hurried to the table probably way faster than was necessary, but he wasn’t ready to undergo something similar again for a damn table. Though if Mick was going to save his ass again… oh, nevermind, he cut himself off. He was perfectly capable of defending himself. Even from guys like Jordan.

Mick followed him, though maybe with more dignity, and they finally settled in the booth, sitting next to each other on a soft couch. An almost irresistible urge to move closer to Mick washed over Nikki, the urge to feel the warmth of his arm against his own. But then Mick would probably look at him with his staggeringly blue eyes full of contempt, and say quietly but very distinctly “Knock it off, Sixx”, and everything would be ruined. So Nikki stayed in his place, almost afraid to even turn his head to look at Mick.

“Whatcha waiting for?” Mick reached out to take a menu from the other side of the table. “Are we gonna eat today or not? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Nikki laughed nervously and took a menu handed to him by Mick. Their fingers brushed, and Nikki almost had a heart attack. He opened the menu on a random page and pretended to read the description of the dish.

What the hell this goddamn holiday was doing to him?

“Hm, Valentine’s special?” Mick said, moving closer to look into the menu. Turned out the page Nikki randomly opened had a special offer for couples on the Valentine’s day – fifty percent off for the second dish if those ordering it were a couple. “Look, it’s pretty cheap.”

“Yeah,” Nikki rasped. “Only we’re not, hm, a couple, y’know. Also we’re both dudes, just saying. They won’t believe us.”

“Well, if you keep being such a sissy, you can as well pass for a girl,” Mick snickered, and this was something Nikki absolutely couldn’t handle. He – a sissy? Fucking watch me.

“Hey!” he waved to the waitress to attract her attention. She was a good-looking girl, but now Nikki didn’t have time for that. As she approached, a notebook in hand, Nikki pointed at the Valentine’s special. “Could we have this, please?”

“Um,” the waitress stammered, “this is only for couples.”

“Yeah, we know,” Nikki nodded. “We are one.”

“You’re trying to prank me, aren’t you?” the waitress laughed nervously. “Sorry, guys, but we don’t give out special offers to anyone who asks.”

“But we’re not ‘anyone’,” Nikki insisted. Mick watched him from the side with those piercing blue eyes, and Nikki could practically feel his heavy gaze on his skin. “We’re a couple. We deserve to get the special offer. Or are you being homophobic? Do you want your establishment to be claimed as such?”

“What? No, no!” the waitress waved her hand, her cheeks flushed. Nikki even felt pity for her. But he needed to prove a point. “But we can’t just give it to you without- without proof-“

“Oh, you need proof?” Mick suddenly said. Nikki turned to him and almost flinched: Mick’s face was so close to his he could see his nostrils moving with every breath he took. “You’ll get it. Come here.”

He wrapped his arm around Nikki’s waist and pulled him closer.

And then he kissed him.

It lasted only a few seconds, a mere brush of their lips together. It was endless, infinite, and at the same time too quick, and over too soon. Mick’s lips were warm and dry, and his hand on Nikki’s waist firm and confident. Nikki wanted to dissolve into his arms, merge into his body, become one with him, breathe his air and- wait, that was getting a little weird.

Mick broke the kiss, and Nikki felt like a part of him had been taken away with it. He blinked a few times, still trying to process what happened.

“See?” he heard Mick’s voice as though from a distance. “Was it enough proof for you?”

“Yes, yes!” the waitress hurried to write the order down in her notebook. “Anything else?”

“Four beers, please,” Mick said, and he was talking so calmly, so casually, like a life-changing event hadn’t just happened to him. Maybe it really didn’t. Maybe he kissed his friends regularly, Nikki just didn’t notice-

“Hey,” Mick turned to him, “are you alright? Was that okay?”

“Er,” Nikki raised his gaze and looked Mick straight in the eyes. How was he supposed to say that was the best thing that happened to him in his entire life? “No, no, it- it was okay, don’t worry. Maybe we could- we could- do it again? Maybe some other bar has Valentine’s specials…”

“Maybe,” a little smile appeared in the corners of Mick’s mouth. “I wouldn’t mind, actually.”

“Me too,” Nikki murmured. His hand, acting on his own, found Mick’s and entwined their fingers. With every second passing Nikki expected Mick to move his hand away, but Mick never did.

They released each other’s hands only when Tommy and Vince came back to their table and plopped down on the other side of it. The girls at the bar looked at them with dreamy eyes.

“They aren’t supermodels, of course,” Vince nodded at them, totally oblivious to the blush that covered both Nikki’s and Mick’s cheeks, and the fact that they were sitting way too close to each other than friends usually do, “but could use some company, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll pass,” Mick shook his head. His hair tickled Nikki’s cheek.

Nikki shot Mick a quick glance and said, “Me too.”

#did this in two days and i know it's not a lot of words but im still proud of myself for completing it (almost) in time #motley crue #motley crue slash fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #mick mars\nikki sixx #marxx #fanfiction #warning: this is cheesy and absolutely unrealistic but that's what fanfiction is for right

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years

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Summer’s a Knife - Christmas Oneshot

If you haven’t already, read Summer’s a Knife here!

While it’s true Van was doing his part to make today worse for you, Christmas Eve is always stressful. There’s the delayed flights home, and dealing with your parents bombarding you with questions while you struggle with jetlag. And then there’s the hour drive in the snow to your aunt’s home, where you’ll interact with all of your aunts and uncles and cousins that you only see once for the entire year, and you’ll have to navigate awkward small talk for hours before making the snowy drive back home, where you’re staying at your parent’s.

Van wants to make a good impression.

Word count: ~8.4k

December 2020

“Van!” You shout from the porch, your freshly-styled hair being ruffled by the cold winter wind whipping around. “You don’t need to be doing that! Ben will be here soon!”

Van acts like he hasn’t heard, the crunch of the snow shovel colliding with the cement echoing around the neighborhood before Van heaves up a shovel of fresh snow, tossing it to the side.

“Van!” You call again, your voice bouncing off of the neighbor’s homes. “Get in the fucking house!”

Van stands up straight, the back of his gloved hand wiping his forehead. The light from the porch illuminates the snow in his hair. “Someone’s gotta do it!” He calls back.

“Okay, but not you! And not right now, when you need to get ready!” You gesture at him. “You’re soaked!”

“I’m already almost done!” Van argues, gesturing to the clean path of sidewalk behind him, even though it’s currently snowing and his work will probably be undone by morning. “Just gimme a min!”

You spin around, retreating into the warmth of the house. You hadn’t realized your mom was in the front room, and your cheeks are pink from a mix of the cold, your frustration, and embarrassment.

“He’s so stubborn!” You sigh to her in exasperation, trying to brush off the snowflakes that had fallen on your hair. Thankfully the awning of the porch had kept most of them away.

“You two are perfect for each other,” Your mom jokes, checking her reflection in the decorative mirror on the wall.

You offer her a joking glare, and she turns to you with a smile.

“He just wants to make a nice first impression,” She says, heading for the coat closet.

“Okay, well I think a great first impression would be him looking presentable to go to the family Christmas party,” You snap, your stress starting to bubble over.

You don’t wait for your mother to defend Van again, retreating back into the bathroom to continue getting ready.

As you sit there touching up your foundation and fixing a few curls that have fallen out of place you simmer over the fact Van was still outside getting pelted with snow. It had all started over a harmless conversation with your mom about how your dad was getting older, and that since Ben was staying over tonight for Christmas morning with the family maybe you two should ask him to shovel the snow tomorrow. But your mom was right; in the name of trying to impress your parents Van had suddenly set his mind on helping, throwing his winter gear on before you’d even realized what was happening. Now your brother was going to be arriving any moment as your ride to the family party, and Van was outside looking like he was at the end of a set.

“We’re leaving!” You dad calls, and you hear the front door opening, your mom trailing behind him. “Van? What the hell are you doing out here?”

“He’s shoveling, honey,” You hear your mom pipe up cheerfully, and you glare at your reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, Van, you don’t have to do that!” You hear your dad call, but can’t hear Van’s response. No doubt something charming.

Then the house goes quiet, your parents setting off ahead of you, your brother, and Van to your aunt’s house.

You’re fussing with your sweater dress, which is itchy and clinging to your body in all the wrong places when you hear the heavy thud of Van’s boots coming back into the house. Your phone vibrates on the sink with a text from Ben: be there in twenty.

The bathroom door opens cautiously to reveal a sopping Van leaving puddles of muddy snow water on the hall floor.

“Can you show me how to use your shower?” He asks, already starting to strip off his coat.

You take a deep breath, channeling all your willpower not to strangle him.

“I know you’re stressed,” Van pleads from the bathroom, where- as always- he’s rushing to finish getting ready.

“You’re the one stressing me out!” You exclaim from the kitchen. “He’s gonna be here any minute!”

“I’m almost ready!” Van cries, and then the roar of the blowdryer drowns him out. You bury your head in your hands.

The fact that Van was included in all of these plans only raised everything to higher stakes; your parents have spent the year bragging about their daughter’s amazing new boyfriend without having really met him besides a handful of Zoom calls to during the pandemic this summer. Now is the first time they’ll be able to form an actual opinion about him, and the pressure of it has made you sick to your stomach for a week. And now he’s got to meet just about every single family member on your mom’s side, and manage to impress them, too.

You’ve had multiple stress fantasies about Van whisking you two away to London, where you opt for a Christmas alone rather than with either of your families. You imagine how much more enjoyable the holidays would be without all of this pressure before you feel guilty imagining how hurt your family would be if they didn’t get this quality time with you. Curse you for being such a good daughter.

You’re trying to focus on your breathing to keep yourself from having a panic attack or dissolving into a fit of tears when your phone vibrates against the kitchen table, startling you.

“Sorry, there was an accident on the highway,” Ben says in lieu of a greeting. “But I’m pulling up right now.”

“Okay, we’ll be out,” You promise, the two of you hanging up quickly. You immediately get up to wait in the front room.

“My brother’s pulling up! C’mon!” You yell in the direction of the hallway, Van emerging right on cue.

You didn’t know how he would pull it off, but he has: The man standing in front of you now is worlds away from the one that just shoveled your parent’s snow. His hair is dried, parted nicely in its usual side part and falling in perfect waves. He’s got a crisp white button up on, not a wrinkle in sight, and the black blazer he just had drycleaned slung over his shoulders. And no Van McCann outfit is complete without the dark jeans and his trusty boots.

“Good?” He asks, giving you a quick spin.

“Wait, turn around again,” You direct him, leaning forward to pick a white fuzzball stuck on his blazer. “Perfect.” You break out into a relieved grin looking up at him.

It feels like ten pounds of stress have melted off your shoulders. Any annoyance that had been bouncing around in your chest immediately dissipates in the name of making this holiday drama-free. Van was ready, he looked incredible, and there was no reason to dwell on the last few stressful hours.

“Thank you for shoveling the snow,” You blurt out. Maybe it had been the most inconvenient timing, but it had made him look like the perfect gentleman in front of your parents.

“I just want them to like me,” Van confesses, leaning down for a quick kiss. “That’s all.”

“Everyone likes you,” You roll your eyes at him before heading back to the kitchen for your purse. When you come back there’s the yellow beam of headlights shining against the front of your house, Ben’s car idling expectantly.

Van’s hand comes to rest on your lower back as you two step outside, you taking a moment to lock the front door. He keeps his hand there the entire walk down the driveway to the car, determined to keep you steady in the slush starting to develop.

“Hi,” You greet your brother breathlessly as you slide into the backseat, Van holding the door open for you. “Excited for the party?”

Ben snorts. It’s a hypothetical question, of course. He felt the same way about the Christmas Eve party as you did. Van’s body slides into the seat next to yours before the door closes with a thud.

“Ben, this is Van, obviously,” You laugh, and Van leans forward through the space between the front seats to shake Ben’s hand.

“You’re dating someone?” Ben jokes, kicking the car into reverse. “Mom and dad never mentioned. Not once, this whole year. Especially not in relation to me still being single.”

Even Van laughs at that. You shuffle around in your seat, trying to get comfortable for the ride. Ben taking care of the drive to your aunt’s meant that you could drink, and you intended to have some wine to wash down the day you’ve had. It feels like it’s already been ten lifetimes since you’d gotten off the plane this morning.

“Now, your mother-” Your Aunt Sallie pauses as she swallows down the bacon-wrapped hors d'oeuvre that had been sitting on the tiny paper plate in one of her shaking hands. “-She said you were bringing home a boy this year!”

“Oh, yeah,” You laugh nervously, glancing around. Van had said he had to use the bathroom and you’d been unable to spot him since. “He’s around here somewhere.”

“Now, what’s he do?” Sallie asks, leaving a dark lipstick stain on the rim of her plastic cup. When she’s done taking a sip of her punch she sets it back on the end table the couch is nestled against. She’s waiting for your answer, not noticing the way her cup knocks a small trinket off of the table and onto the plush carpet. You have no idea what it was or whether it’s broken, so you quickly push it from your mind.

You smile politely. “He’s a songwriter, actually.”

Over the course of your year dating Van you’ve struggled to navigate the ‘what does he do’ question with everyone: coworkers, family, the occupation dropdown menu on internet forms that need information about who you’re living with. Musician sounded strange; Yes, Van could always be found gravitating towards pianos in hotel lobbies or any guitar within sight. But that didn’t fully encompass the way he was performing and writing entire studio albums. And ‘he’s in a band’ could go either way; most people in L.A. were, and figured Van was some unsigned act. On the flip side, people wanted you to rattle off Catfish’s discography to see if they knew any of the songs, and started Googling them immediately. You’ve started to opt for songwriter, a way to honor Van’s favorite talent of yours without making too big of a fuss.

“Oh?” You aunt tilts her head in interest. “Is he an accountant too?”

You chew the inside of your cheek awkwardly. Your Aunt Sallie has never remembered you actually worked in marketing and was nowhere close to being an accountant. “No, I didn’t meet him in the office.”

“Meet who in the office?” Van pipes up in the doorway to the sitting area.

You had been sitting with your body turned toward your aunt, but at Van’s voice your body instinctually turns toward him, your shoulders draining of tension you hadn’t even known you’d been feeling. “You,” You smile up at him.

“Oh, no thanks. You’ll never catch me in an office,” Van grins, approaching you two and immediately extending his hand for a handshake. He’s gotten warm since being in the house, his blazer slung over his left arm. His white button up is a bit too transparent, and your eyes wander over the dark chest hair that’s slightly visible where the top buttons are undone.

Your aunt scrambles to set aside her empty paper plate before reaching a weathered hand out to grasp Van’s.

“I’m Y/N’s Aunt Sallie,” She introduces herself cheerfully. “I’m afraid your name’s slipped my mind, though.”

“I’m Van,” you listen to him repeat for the hundredth time tonight. “And Y/N has told me a lot about you,” He informs her politely. You struggle to hold back a sarcastic snort; what you’ve really done is warn him about her.

“Oh, Van,” Aunt Sallie smacks her lips together in thought as Van unclasps her hand. “That’s a lovely name.”

“It’s after Van Morrison,” Van boasts, his chest puffing out slightly. Your heart swells in endearment like it always does at his pride for his father’s nickname for him. You’ve even been sworn to secrecy about his legal name in front of your family.

Van and Aunt Sallie are just engaging in conversation about Van’s namesake when you hear commotion coming from the other room. Right on cue, your mother pops her head into the living room. “Ham’s done!”

“Finally,” You sigh in relief, smoothing your dress down as you get up from your seat at the couch. You were absolutely starving.

Sallie stands up as well, knocking a small portrait of Aunt Stephanie’s dog off of the end table. Van lets her head for the kitchen first, hanging back for a moment with you.

“Hungry?” He asks, rubbing his palm over your back in a comforting gesture. Your shoulders drop tension again.

“Yeah,” You tell him quietly. “Do you want to hang that up first?”

“Sure,” Van nods. “It’s sweltering in here.”

You take the long way to your aunt’s kitchen, leading Van to the coat closet by the front door before you two meet up with everyone else crammed around the kitchen counters loading up paper plates with Christmas Eve dinner.

You grab two plates that are stuck together, unsticking the bottom one and passing it over to Van. You two work in quiet harmony as you take turns spooning portions of different foods onto your plates, Van occasionally asking questions about ingredients. By the time you two are at the end of the makeshift counter buffet your plate is sagging with the weight of your cut of the ham, the steaming mashed potatoes and gravy, the two different casseroles you’d managed to fit, and some various finger foods you’d carefully piled on top of each other.

The dining table is a handful of seats short from being able to fit everyone, but your parents have graciously reserved two seats across from them that you and Van slide into, your younger cousin musing out loud about where she should sit with her girlfriend. You watch them head for the sitting room you had just left, which is empty now.

“So, Van,” Your mom starts, popping a forkful of ham into her mouth. “I see you’ve met Sallie.”

Van laughs quietly, nodding. “I did, yeah. For a moment.”

Aunt Sallie is quite tame now, but she’s forever been the troublemaker among your mom and her sisters, and gets louder and more obnoxious with each visit to the punchbowl. She also lacks any concept of privacy or personal space, something you experienced last year when she had you cornered in the hall by the bathroom, pestering you to tell her how much you make a year. You cringe to imagine Van experiencing the same scenario.

“No spot for me?” Ben asks behind your seat. Van twists to face him, a drop of gravy resting on the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, wait, babe,” You pause him without a second thought, reaching for your own napkin. “You’ve got something on your face.”

Van blinks at you in confusion, still chewing a bite of his potatoes as you reach forward to quickly wipe the gravy away. When you’re done Van has finished swallowing down his food.

“You can have this seat,” He insists, nodding to his plate. He starts gathering up his plastic silverware in one of his hands.

“Don’t do that,” Ben insists. “I’ll go sit over there.” He nods to a fold up card table looking out of place in Aunt Stephanie’s glossy and expensive home. Your grandma and grandpa are sitting at it alone, looking content to be holding their own conversation.

But Van isn’t convinced, standing up from his seat. Realizing he’s serious, you start to grab your things too, brainstorming where you two could sit now.

“Nah, have it,” Van tells Ben again, stepping away from the table. Ben hesitates but ends up taking the seat, scooting his chair in towards the table as soon as you rise out of your own chair.

“We can go sit with Maggie,” You leave the dining room with it’s glowing chandelier, navigate the polished hardwood and shiny marble of the kitchen, until you’re back in the sitting room you’d just escaped.

Your cousin is sitting on the floor with her girlfriend, their backs against the couch. You and Van take the floor against the loveseat across from them, the electric stone fireplace alive with flickering digital flames.

The rug that the couch and loveseat rest on is incredibly plush and has clearly just been cleaned; it’s pristine white with no stains despite the fact you know your aunt’s dog tends to have accidents on it. You set your glass of red wine down cautiously, but the glass doesn’t seem as stable as you’d like it to be.

“Hey!” Maggie perks up when she notices it’s you and Van that have set up camp with them.

“Hi,” You smile, instantly resting a hand on Van’s shoulder. “This is my boyfriend, Van,” You introduce him, and he offers a kind wave as he’s working his way through one of his bread rolls.

“Hi,” Maggie laughs as Van wipes crumbs off of his shirt. “I’m Y/N’s favorite cousin, Maggie,” She giggles at her joke, although it’s true. “And this is my girlfriend Sophie.”

Van looks pleasantly surprised at the mention of Sophie being Maggie’s girlfriend. “There’s two of ya!” He laughs, his eyes widening at you.

Maggie looks slightly confused, but you laugh, catching his drift. “Gay cousins? Yeah,” You nod.

With your clarification Maggie and Sophie laugh as well. You watch Van’s cheeks turn pink, most likely worried he’d just offended someone. But nobody’s bothered, and the conversation centers around how Maggie and Sophie met at the local university Maggie attends, the one you were planning to attend before you ended up ditching your hometown.

Nobody else comes to eat in the sitting room, and for the first time the entire night conversation flows easily, and you don’t have to count down every excruciating minute. You four keep talking well after your plates are empty, until Van and Sophie have to make a trip to grab drinks for everyone.

“He’s so fucking hilarious,” Maggie remarks as soon as they’ve left the room. “If I was into men I’d totally steal him from you.”

That’s the best seal of approval anyone could hope to get from Maggie, who is perpetually trying to convince anyone within a ten foot radius that being a lesbian is the superior sexuality. You don’t disagree, but falling for Van hadn’t been up to you. You beam at her compliment, and you’re still smiling when they return.

“For you,” Van stands over you, handing you down a freshly refilled glass of wine. He’s got a bottle of beer tucked under his elbow, and Sophie passes another beer to Maggie before cracking open the can of sparkling cider she’d grabbed for herself.

Van inquires about Sophie’s cider, which she graciously crawls forward to offer Van a sip of. Then Maggie and Van try to turn the conversation into how beer is the best alcoholic drink, which you and Sophie debate vehemently. The room is filled with playful debate until everyone is exhausted trying to argue their points.

“Hey,” Maggie starts quietly, before taking a long drag of her beer. “I’ve got a huge blunt in the car if you guys wanna come smoke with us.”

Your jaw drops. “Margaret Fields,” You grin, although you and Van are already standing up to follow her. “This is a family event!”

“All the more reason we need it,” Maggie raises an eyebrow at you. Everyone tries their hardest not to make a commotion at the coat closet as you all throw your jackets and boots on before slipping quietly out of the front door and tiptoeing down the driveway to Maggie’s car.

“Roll down the window a little,” You insist, burrowing into your coat further. Maggie turns the car on just long enough to crack the back window for you and Van.

“Now it’s gonna be freezing in here,” Van complains, poking at you.

“I know, but I don’t want to reek of weed when we go back in!” You whisper loudly, as Van takes the lit blunt from Sophie. “They’ll kill us!”

The only light in the vehicle is coming from the glowing windows of your aunt’s house and the embers of the blunt as Van inhales. You watch him exhale a shadowy cloud of weed, momentarily leaning closer to you so that he can aim it towards the cracked window.

“You’re gonna make me smell like it!” You protest, watching the smoke trail past your face and out of the car. Van snorts as he passes the blunt over to you, his fingers ice cold.

“You’re no fun,” He tuts, but you can’t reply as you’re too busy holding the weed in your lungs for as long as you can. It burns your throat on its way out, and you try your hardest to suppress your coughs.

Time gets a little fuzzy around the edges as the weed is passed around another time (or two, or three, who knows), and you don’t know how long you’ve been missing from the party when you all stumble back inside.

“Van!” Your uncle calls just as Van’s hung is coat up. “You said you played guitar?”

“I do, yeah,” Van nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Can you help me with something? Do you know how to restring one?”

“I do,” Van repeats, and your uncle gestures at the large staircase right by the front door.

“I’ve got it up here.”

Van shoots you a glance before he politely follows your uncle up the stairs, disappearing into the second floor.

You pray he makes a quick return as you make a quick stop through the kitchen, filling a new paper plate with some second helpings of whatever looked good.

“Have you seen Will?” Your Aunt Stephanie asks as she comes to get another brownie. They’re the star of the night, courtesy of one of your cousins, and there’s less and less of them each time you pass through the kitchen. You decide to take one while they’re still around, your mouth watering at the chocolate frosting on top.

“Van’s helping him restring his guitar,” You tell her, and she groans.

“I wish he wouldn’t,” She sighs. “He’s been putting off taking it to be restrung for months. We’ve finally had some peace and quiet around here.”

You laugh at that. “I haven’t seen James,” You realize, scanning the floor of the room.

“He’s around,” Stephanie shrugs, “Probably pissing somewhere.”

You giggle a little too loudly at that, and then manage to slip away back to the sitting room where Maggie and Sophie have already taken refuge again.

“Where’s Van?” Maggie asks, now slouched in the couch. Sophie is next to her, still sipping at her cider.

“Uncle Will needs him to restring his guitar,” You inform them. “It only takes him a minute, so hopefully he’ll be back soon.”

“That sucks,” Sophie sighs, before noticing the food you were carrying. “You brought snacks?”

“For me!” You insist, plopping down on the loveseat. “These are strictly for me.”

“No fair!” Sophie gets up from the couch, crossing the space to sit down in the empty space you’d left for Van next to you. “Mags and I supplied the weed, didn’t we?” Without waiting for a response she plucks one of the deviled eggs off of your plate before prancing back to her seat.

You zone out into your high, absentmindedly munching on your food, when you suddenly see movement out of the corner of your eye.

“James!” You exclaim excitedly, and the white miniature poodle that’s laying on the dog bed in the corner of the room perks up at his name.

“Hi, baby!” You baby talk him, hoping to lure him out of his bed. His eyes are open and his ears are twitching slightly, watching the strangers in his living room. But he’s still content to lay in his bed, his chin resting on one of the plush sides of it.

“C’mere!” You coo, patting the couch. Realizing you’re not going to let him rest, James starts to heave himself up.

As soon as he starts to cross the room towards you you decide to slip from the loveseat back onto the floor, ripping a piece of your bread roll as an offering to him. You don’t feel your hip bump your wine glass still resting on the floor until it’s too late, until you don’t feel the glass against you anymore because it has tipped, your red wine sloshing out of it and right onto the fresh white rug.

You gasp, watching the liquid seep into the fabric, looking like a blood stain as it spreads. You’re so frozen in your shock that you don’t even notice James has finally trotted over to you until he steals your entire bread roll from right off of your plate, ignoring the small portion clutched between your forefinger and your thumb. You jerk your head to see him make his way back to his bed, curling up to chow down on his prize.

“Oh my God,” You murmur, looking at Maggie and Sophie with wide eyes. “What do we do?”

You’re greeted with two silent stares, the two of them fixated on the stain.

It shouldn’t be funny, but suddenly it is. The dog has run away with your bread roll. Your red wine is currently soiling Aunt Stephanie’s extremely expensive carpet. And everyone in the room is frozen in a state of shock. There’s nobody around with enough sense to play hostess and grab a napkin or something that could absorb the spill. Without being able to control it laughter bubbles up from your stomach, ringing out through the room as it escapes your mouth. You just stare at the disaster that has unfolded in front of your eyes, laughing about it all.

“Help me!” You manage through your laughter, realizing that someone had to take charge. “I need something to soak this up!”

Maggie and Sophie jump up then, everyone searching desperately for something to mop up the wine. Sophie slips out of the room, only to return with one of the fresh white towels you recognize from the bathroom.

“It’s gonna ruin the towel!” You exclaim quietly, but Sophie still gets down on the floor with you and lays it on top of the wine, applying pressure with the palms of her hands.

“Better a towel than this rug!” She stage whispers, and you’re relieved to see the red soaking through the towel. At least some of it will be lifted from the carpet.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” You whisper, glancing up nervously to make sure nobody is about to enter the room. “I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get high at a family fucking party!”

“Oh, shut up, Y/N,” Maggie rolls her eyes. “Loosen up. We’ve got this covered!”

“It’s a huge red stain!” You hiss, Sophie folding the towel over itself and applying pressure again.

“We’ve almost got three degrees between us,” Maggie gestures to the three of them. “We can get a stain out!”

The absurdity of her sentence sends you into another giggle fit.

“What?” Sophie lifts her head to see what you’re laughing about, but she’s smiling, your laughter spreading to her.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath before you can tell your joke. “How many college graduates does it take to clean up a spill?”

You’re aware somewhere in the back of your mind it’s not even that funny, but the weed says otherwise. Maggie and Sophie find it as funny as you, and when Van comes back into the room you’re all in tears, blubbering about stupid mistakes you’ve all made through the years, how poor of an indicator higher education is when it comes to common sense.

“What the hell is going on?” He asks as he approaches you guys, a smile spreading across his face. You watch it dissolve in one instant when he catches sight of the wine stain that you’re all guarding from view with your bodies.

“We’re in a crisis,” You admit, wiping the tears from your eyes, exhaling another watery giggle.

“This is about as good as it’s gonna get,” Sophie says, pulling the towel up. The stain on the carpet is pink now instead of the vivid red it originally was, but it’s not disguised in the slightest.

“C’mon,” Van reaches a hand out to help you stand up onto wobbly legs. He leads you out into the hall, and you’re slipping in your socks on the hardwood floor.

“What are you doing?” You ask a little too loudly, and Van quickly makes a shushing motion. He turns the corner into the bathroom, tugging you in behind him and locking the door securely.

“We need peroxide,” He tells you, kneeling down to start searching through the cabinet under the sink. “Do you know where she keeps it?”

“No, I don’t know where Aunt Stephanie keeps her peroxide,” You scoff, but start helping him in his search. “I come over exactly once a year.”

You open up the medicine cabinet, your eyes tracing over the various bottles they keep in there. It’s clear this is the guest bathroom; it’s only stocked with generic headache cures, packaged toothbrushes, and some tampons.

“I don’t think they keep any down here,” You tell Van, who has finally given up his search, standing up. “This is just a spare bathroom. I’m sure they have some upstairs.”

Van nods, unlocking the bathroom door before heading out. You’ve resigned to heading back into the living room empty handed, and you’re surprised to see Van turn the opposite direction, towards the staircase he had followed your Uncle Will up.

“We can’t go up there!” You insist. “That’s weird!”

“I left my phone up there,” Van tells you, his blue eyes widening in silent emphasis.

“Right,” You swallow down your apprehension, following him around the corner and up the stairs.

On the second floor the noise of the party has faded away, leaving only the soft noise of you and Van’s footsteps as you navigate towards the master bedroom. You haven’t been up here since you were a little kid, sneaking around with Maggie and your other cousins in your nice Christmas dresses. You still intuitively know the layout, but Van gets to the master bedroom first. He must’ve restrung the guitar in there.

He gives a polite knock before finally twisting the knob and peeking in. He opens the door wider as he steps in, you lagging behind.

Your aunt and uncle have completely redone their bedroom in the fifteen-plus years it’s been since you’ve been in here. Gone is the soft blue carpet that everyone used to pretend was the ocean, leaping from the waterbed to the sofa that had been pressed against the wall near the bed in order to avoid drowning in it. It’s a crisp cream color now, just like everything else in the room. There’s no more art on the walls depicting french bistros during the different seasons, art you’d point at with your cousins and declare which small oil-painted figure everyone was. The space on the wall is now occupied by a family portrait, a framed photo of James peering up at the camera with his tear-stained eyes and trendy decorative mirror.

“Er… Which one is the bathroom?”

Lost in your reminiscing, you hadn’t noticed Van had opened up the first door to his right, which leads to a closet. He offers you a sheepish smile when you laugh.

“Over here,” You point, crossing the room to the open doorway of the bathroom. You step in, flicking the lights on. The bathroom looks the same as it always has; it must be their next renovation project.

Van starts to check under the sink, but you close the door behind you two so that the bathroom closet that was hidden from view is visible now. As soon as you open the creaky wooden door you spot the brown bottle of peroxide, presenting it to Van in triumph.

“Now we’re talking,” Van looks over the label of the bottle carefully before you two return the bathroom to how you’d originally found it, slipping out of the bedroom and back down the stairs, the chatter of the party becoming louder with each step down the staircase.

“Why peroxide?” You ask Van as you two walk at a brisk pace towards the living room where you two had abandoned Maggie and Sophie with your mess. You hope nobody’s walked in and placed the blame on them.

“It helps lift stains,” Van explains. “It’s a color safe bleach.”

“There you are!”

Maggie and Sophie are dutifully still guarding the scene with their bodies.

“Where were you?” Maggie asks.

“We had to go upstairs to get peroxide,” You explain, kneeling down with Van, who has opened the bottle up. “You know those oil paintings Aunt Stephanie used to have upstairs of the cafe?”

“The whole set, yeah,” Maggie nods.

“They’re gone now,” You inform her solemnly. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels strange to know that part of your childhood holiday celebrations no longer exists.

“No!” Maggie cries, placing a hand over her heart for extra drama. “Is nothing from our childhood sacred?”

“Right?” You laugh, comforted that she seemed to be feeling the same emotions you were.

Van has poured peroxide over the stain, the carpet fizzing with the liquid.

“Did you Google this?” You ask him, watching as he tends to the spill carefully.

Van shakes his head. “Been doing this my whole life at the B ‘n B.”

He grabs for the towel Sophie had sopped up some of the wine with, and carefully uses a clean section of it to dab at the peroxide. It’s a terse ten minutes while he continues to perform this ritual, everyone watching him with bated breath.

“There,” He breathes finally, pulling the towel away in satisfaction. The stain wasn’t entirely gone, but it was close to it. There’s a collective relief in the room.

“Now help me,” He nods towards you before getting up and approaching the loveseat. “Maggie and Sophie, you two push the stain under.” You line yourself up across from Van on the other side of the loveseat, helping to lift it when Van leans down. It’s heavy, and you struggle to barely lift the wooden feet off of the floor. There’s some commotion as Maggie and Sophie attempt to do their assigned job, and then the loveseat is lowering back onto the rug.

The stain is successfully hidden underneath the furniture. You grin at Van, a warm feeling of satisfaction spreading over you. Van grins back.

“Crisis averted,” Sophie declares, getting up to grab her cider off of the end table. “Here’s to Van!”

“To Van!” Maggie echoes, clinking her beer with Sophie’s can. Van laughs at their cheer, carefully bundling up the soiled towel and the now-empty bottle of peroxide.

“Help me get rid of this,” He requests of you, gesturing out into the hall.

You two manage to slip the evidence into the trash drawer without drawing any suspicion, and then Van nods to the sliding doors leading to the snow-covered back deck. “I need a smoke.”

“Me too,” You sigh wistfully, following Van to the front door so that he can slip his shoes on.

“Come have one with me,” Van insists, leaning over to pass your shoes to you.

“I can’t,” You tell him quietly, but still put your shoes on. Even if you can’t smoke, you’d like to get some air.

Your grandpa stops you on your way out onto the deck with a quick question about how to do something on his new iPhone, and you show him how to change the settings before you catch up to Van, who’s leaned against the side of the house, staring out into the darkness of the yard.

“I’m jealous,” You pout, the smoke he exhales illuminated by the warm glow coming from the sliding doors.

“Have a smoke!” Van laughs, holding his cigarette out in offering.

“I can’t,” You frown. “I don’t want them to see me!”

Your family still had no idea about the bad habit you’ve picked up, and you intended to keep it that way.

“Here,” Van pushes off from the house, nodding at you to take his place. “I’ll keep watch for us.”

He’s slipped his blazer on to come outside, and he reaches in the pocket for his box of cigarettes, quickly slipping one into the palm of your hand along with his lighter. His fingers are ice cold. You light up quickly before passing them back.

The introvert in you relishes in this quiet moment away from socializing, relaxing into the rhythm of your breathing as you smoke with Van in silence.

Van’s holding his cigarette in his left hand, his right hand safely tucked away in his pocket to warm up. He paces around the snowy deck, leaving footprints everywhere he goes. Every few steps he checks the doors to see if anyone’s coming.

The cold air feels good against your skin. You’ve opted to come out without your coat, enjoying the feeling of the slight wind slipping through the stitches in your dress and cooling your skin. You watch a small gust of wind flip a lock of Van’s hair the wrong way, ruining his part. You smile, endlessly endeared by him.

Van catches you smiling. “What?” He asks, returning it just as warmly.

You’re just opening your mouth to tell him to come closer so you can fix his hair when Van glances at the door, his smile dropping.

“Ben’s coming,” He alerts you, and you have no choice but to drop your cigarette onto the deck, wincing as you stomp out half of a perfectly good cigarette, using the toe of your shoe to delicately bury it in snow.

“Hey,” Ben greets Van when the door slides open, the noise of the party leaking out of the house. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Right here,” You speak up before Van can, emerging from the shadows. “I was just getting some air with Van.”

“Are you guys ready to head out when you’re done?” Ben asks. “I’ve been getting badgered by Aunt Sal for the last hour, I don’t know how much longer you two expect me to stay sober.”

“I’m ready to go,” You look to Van, and he nods in agreement.

“Lemme finish this,” Van tells your brother before inhaling another hit. “And we can get out of here.”

“Oh!” You exclaim suddenly. “Did Rachel and the baby ever get here?”

“Yeah, like a half hour ago,” Ben tells you. “Where have you been?”

Van snorts, but keeps your secret. “I’ve been catching up with Maggie,” You brush him off. “But I wanna see Lily before we go.”

“Hurry it up,” Ben demands, but he heads back in, sliding the door shut behind him.

“So bossy,” You roll your eyes, turning back to Van. You step in close, reaching up to fix the misplaced lock of hair.

“I love you,” You tell him quietly, tilting your head up for a kiss. Van meets you halfway, his mouth tasting of beer and nicotine and weed.

“I don’t smell, do I?” You ask, worried. “I don’t want to ask to hold Lily smelling like I just smoked.”

“You did just smoke,” Van points out. But he leans in and sniffs the top of your head, and then the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. “Smell fine to me, though.”

Van throws his cigarette down, snuffing it out before you two head back in.

You two find your cousin Rachel sitting in the living room reserved for special occasions, surrounded by family discussing motherhood with her. Her husband is sitting next to her, looking overwhelmed with all of the conversation. You try to remember his name. Jamie? Jacob? Joe?

“Hey,” You greet everyone as you enter, and your family turns their attention on you. “I wanted to hold Lily before we leave.”

“Come and get her,” Rachel grins, gingerly lifting the three month old baby in her lap. Lily is bundled in a festive blanket that features small cartoon reindeer leaping about, and she’s chewing on her fingers as she’s passed into your arms.

“She’s so cute,” You gush, watching her small eyes look over your face with curiosity. She has a red bow wound in her thin dark hair, and when she releases her tiny fingers from her mouth some slobber gets in her ponytail.

“Everyone says she looks just like Jack,” Rachel says, and the relatives in the room murmur in agreement. Ah, that’s his name. Jack.

“She does,” You agree, even if you don’t see it. “Van, wanna hold her?”

Van falters for a second, clearly unsure if that’s alright with Rachel. But when she doesn’t protest he nods, pushing up the sleeves of his blazer before he takes Lily into his arms.

“He’s a natural with babies,” You tell Rachel. “Everytime I hold them they cry, and then I hand them over to Van and they just stop. Every time.”

Rachel laughs, and you watch Van gaze down lovingly at Lily, your heart glowing. After he’s rocked her for a moment he laughs softly, starting to hand her back. “She’s about to cry.”

You see what he means when Rachel has her back in her arms; Lily’s face is starting to turn an angry shade of red, her nose scrunching in discomfort.

“I’ll go warm up a bottle,” Jack immediately springs into action.

“Alright, well, we’re gonna head out,” You announce awkwardly while there’s a gap in conversation. “Bye, everyone!”

Of course your family won’t let it be that easy, and you’re soon engulfed in hugs from whoever’s in the room. You watch Van out of the corner of your eye, shaking hands with your uncles and hugging your aunts.

After your goodbyes you find Ben chatting with your mom and dad in the kitchen.

“The happiest I’ve ever seen her,” You hear your mom say before you’ve entered the room. “Did you see her wipe his mouth? She’s a woman possessed,” She laughs.

Everyone is still chuckling when you turn the corner. “Ben,” You singsong. “We’re ready!”

“We’ll be following shortly,” Your dad waves you three off. “See you at home!”

The drive home takes twice the time that arriving did. It had continued to snow throughout the entire duration of the party, leaving the highways slushy and slippery, drivers inching along cautiously.

The wine, weed, and your flight that morning means that you can’t stay awake during the drive, your body heavy with exhaustion. You lean your forehead against the cold glass of the window and close your eyes, drifting off peacefully.

You’re woken by Van’s hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently.

“We’re home,” He murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let’s get inside and head to bed.”

You practically trip over your own feet up the driveway and into the house, still half asleep. Ben yawns his goodnight as he sheds his damp jacket and shoes by the front door before heading into the spare bedroom. It’s less of a bedroom and more of your parent’s closet since you’ve both moved out, but they’ve kept your childhood bed in there for your occasional visits. Van guides you down the hall to the office, where you two would be sleeping.

The office is cold when you step inside, due to the french doors that lead to the backyard letting a draft in. Your mom’s been working from home since pandemic caused everyone into lockdown during the spring and summer, and her work area is piled with papers and binders. Various little lights on her computer flash, and the paperwork chaos spreads across the top of her bookshelf that houses all of her professional reference material, and the drawers to her filing cabinet are open and overflowing. The couch that you and Van are supposed to share has plenty of folded blankets resting on it, meant to help you two sleep despite the chill that’s lingered in here every cold season your entire life.

The cold is almost worth it with the view through the french doors. You hover on the other side of them, admiring the fresh blanket of untouched snow covering your yard, and the front row view of tonight’s blizzard. You yawn, your breath fogging up the glass in front of your face.

“What do you say we just, fuck the couch,” Van insists, gesturing to the blankets atop it, “And we just make a big bed on the floor?”

That’d probably be a lot warmer. And a lot more comfortable, considering you’ve grown used to sleeping beside Van, and to fit on the couch you two would have to rest your head on opposite sides.

“Yeah,” You agree sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Go get ready for bed,” Van tells you. “I’ll get this ready.”

As sleepy as you are, once you’ve washed your makeup off your energy levels perk up. It feels good when your skin can breathe again, even if your dark circles are back on display.

As soon as you’re back in the office you strip off your clothing, rummaging through your suitcase topless for your Las Vegas shirt.

Once you’ve slipped your shirt over your head you notice Van’s handiwork; he’s used the couch cushions to elevate your pillows, and created a carefully layered mattress of blankets. You crawl towards it, happily sliding underneath the top two layers.

“Hey!” Van protests from where he’s tucking his button up and blazer back into their garment bag. “That was supposed to be my side!”

“Shut up,” You scoff, but roll over in a show of generosity. While you wait for Van to climb underneath the blankets with you, you mentally replay tonight in your mind.

This is the most fun you’ve had at a family gathering in years. Since the days of leaping off of your aunt and uncle’s waterbed, really. Instead of stilted small talk and constant glances at your phone your night was filled with laughter, scheming with your cousin, and the pride of watching Van woo everyone in your family. You don’t think he could’ve been more of a gentleman if he’d tried. And you know he had tried, and hard. But you’ve met plenty of people like yourself, who are still anxious and clumsy and don’t get things right even when you put your best effort forward. You think of what you’d overheard your mom saying: A woman possessed.

Was it that obvious? Was the joy and love that Van brought into your life so clearly on display for everyone? Could he tell? Could he see how appreciative you were for the adventure that always followed him, and therefore you, wherever he went?

You hope he’s here for next year’s party. And the next. And the next. There’s nobody else who could embolden you to the point where you felt comfortable enough to sneak out to smoke weed in front of all your uppity family; Nobody who could keep your weed-clogged brain clear enough to fix the mess you’ve made without you spiraling into a crazy bout of paranoia. Nobody else you could trust to keep watch while you smoke a cigarette. Nobody else who made you feel so at peace with your childhood falling away, because what’s left in its wake was even better.

“I love you,” You murmur as soon as you feel his body slide next to yours. You blink at his tired face. “You were so good with everyone.”

The lines at the outer corners of Van’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I fucking hope so. I was busting my ass trying to get it right.”

“And you did perfect,” You assure him, cupping his cheek. “I love you so much.”

“Aw, Christ,” Van tuts. “I love you, too. Now go to bed, you’re going soft on me.”

“No, wait,” You urge him, but you can tell your voice is slurring. You’re right on the precipice of falling into a deep sleep. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

“You’re welcome,” Van laughs.

“And merry Christmas,” You continue, patting his hair. “I was gonna blow you tonight as a reward, but it’ll have to wait.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Van jokes. “Now go to sleep.”

You ignore his instructions. “Did you hear my mom in the kitchen? Saying I was a woman possessed?”

“Did she? No, I didn’t hear.” You can hear the amusement in Van’s voice, but your eyes have slipped closed. “That’s funny. I tend to feel like the puppy following you around.”

“I had so much fun tonight.” You feel yourself smile as the room around you starts to feel warm and hazy, Van’s body radiating a comforting warmth.

“I did too,” Van whispers, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on your slack lips. “Merry Christmas. I love you. Night.”

#happy holidays!!#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #catb fic #van mccann #van mccann fanfiction #van mccann fic #vanfic #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction

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livvibee · 4 years

Text

Three Times Tony Wanted to Kiss Peter and One Time Peter Kissed Him Instead

Pairing: Starker Rating: Mature (M) Notes: This fic fulfills my “First Kiss” square for @starkerfestivals summer bingo. Warnings: sexual content, Tony being an oblivious bottom Read here or on AO3.

Spring

It was the in-between time all insomniacs are familiar with, too late to be night and too early to be morning. The sun was barely flirting with the horizon, and the birds had yet to chirp, but the canopy of stars was beginning to fade from the inky blue sky.

Tony was sitting in the courtyard at the center of the compound, with only the babbling of the water feature behind him to keep him company. His mug of coffee had long gone cold at his side as he stared blankly at the sky, keeping his eyes open in an attempt to avoid a tormented sleep. The stars that used to be such a comfort had their own set of bad memories attached, flying through the wormhole, being stranded in space surrounded by a sea of lights, cooling off on the lake house dock after explosive fights with Pepper.

Tony heard the door swoosh open and quiet footsteps emerge. He looked over his shoulder to see a welcome sight. The object of his hopeless and quiet affections padding across the courtyard with two cups of coffee, steaming in the cool spring air. Peter was still dressed in his pajamas, muscled thighs below soft shorts, barely peeking out under the oversized tee that was threadbare with use, stretched out neckline drooping on one shoulder and exposing the razor-sharp edge of his collarbone. Fuck, he’s so pretty.

“Can’t sleep either?” Peter held up the coffee like a peace offering for shattering the silence of the dawning day.

Tony offered up a small smile but didn’t otherwise comment, taking the coffee in his sleep-deprived grip with shaking hands. Peter sat on the bench, shoulder touching with Tony’s as they relaxed and drank their coffee while the sun rose. Tony blinked away the film of exhaustion gathering in his eyes, finally ready to talk after countless sips of hot java.

“What’s eating at you, Underoos?”

Peter let out a soft sigh. “The usual. People I couldn’t save. Dissolving into dust on an alien planet. You know. Spidey stuff. You?”

Tony tilted his head to rest against Peter’s and secretly thrilled at the additional point of contact. “Just thinking about the stars, Pete.”

They sat in silence again for some time before Peter shifted on the bench to face Tony, ducking his head a little in shyness. “Have you ever, you know, tried talking to someone about things? Sometimes I think I should, then I feel like I should be stronger, able to handle everything on my own.”

Tony could see Peter starting to crack. “Hey, hey, no.” He put a hand on the other man’s to steady him, fighting the desperate urge to kiss Peter until the worry lines around his eyes relaxed. “You don’t have to carry everything on your own. It does help to have someone to talk to. You know, you can always come to me, or if you’d prefer a third party, I can help you find one. It wouldn’t be the first time someone on the team needed a little help, Pete.” Tony felt Peter’s eyes blazing into his own, searching his face for what, Tony wasn’t sure.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter exhaled with shaky breath. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

The two men sat together, quietly talking as the sun blazed orange into the sky, creeping up over the horizon and finally coming into view over the edge of the courtyard wall. Tony wouldn’t realize it until later, but their hands stayed touching for hours, until the complex was waking up around them, figures bustling to and fro visible through the windows.

Summer

The Avengers annual summer cookout and pool party was the event of the season. The entire team would show up for hotdogs and hamburgers by the pool. Tony was sweating in the summer heat manning the small cabana bar, mixing up cocktails for his teammates and friends. Most of the team were relaxing by the pool, watching the younger set monopolize the diving board with cannonballs and flips, while Rhodey was chatting his ear off about the latest military gossip.

Tony’s attention wandered as Peter rose out of the water like a Greek god, lifting himself with ease up the side of the pool. Tony was bewitched by the flex of his arms, and watched with hunger as the receding waters revealed Peter’s well built body, inch by inch. From the thick planes of his pecs to his rippling abs, down to his well defined quads and calves Peter was cut like a statue, some superhuman version of a man. Peter made his way across the patio toward the bar.

Oh my God, he’s coming over here. Play it cool, Tony!

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Peter’s chirped, hair glistening wetly in the sunlight.

“Hey Spiderling, everything’s good here,” Tony blurted out. “Having a good time, care for a drink? I’m making mai tais!”

“Sure, that sounds delicious.” Peter smiled expectantly toward Tony, watching as he mixed the drink together and gave it a vigorous shake over his shoulder before pouring it into one of the patriotically themed cups.

“Thanks!” Peter grabbed the drink and gave it a careful sip. “Mm, Tony this is delicious.”

Yeah, I’ll tell you what else is damn delicious. You.

“Sure thing kid, it’s my pleasure. You’ve got a little on your lip, just there.” Tony watched as Peter’s tongue ventured out beyond his lips and slowly traced his top lip, biting back a whine at how badly he wanted that tongue in his mouth.

“Did I get it all?” Peter asked, the picture of innocence.

“Yep!” Tony’s response was rushed and his smile wide and fake as he tried to get control of himself.

Peter took another drink from his glass before smiling and thanking Tony again. The younger man turned to face the pool, adjusting his clinging swimming trunks then stretching his body like a cat as he walked, arms up into the sky, keeping his beverage carefully balanced. Tony hungrily watched the play of muscles along his back as his arms lifted before focusing his gaze on the two perfect round orbs inside his trunks as Peter walked away. Tony bit his lip as he imagined all that bulk holding him down, spearing him open to just-

“Tony! Earth to Tony!” Rhodey’s voice cut in and dropped Tony right out of his fantasy. “Are you through staring at Peter, or should I go and leave you alone with your thoughts?”

Alert! Deflect! Deflect!

“Peter?!” Tony sputtered, trying to gather his thoughts and come up with a plausible excuse. “Uh, I wasn’t staring at Peter, I was on a mental tangent about the latest StarkPad design.” Tony laughed nervously. “You know I’m always working on something, honeybear.”

Rhodey shot him an unimpressed look. “Cmon, Tones, I’ve known you longer than that.”

Tony crumpled under his best friend’s perceptive gaze. “You’re right, I’m pathetic. Lusting after a man so many years younger than me. It’s ridiculous really, I don’t even think he’s into guys.” He glanced hesitantly at Rhodey’s face, who still looked extremely unimpressed.

“I swear your genius intellect deserts you at the most infuriating times.” Rhodey turned to walk away, saying over his shoulder, “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Tony”

Fall

Tony traced the line of Peter’s throat with eager eyes, watching the movement of his Adam’s apple as the younger man gulped down water. Rivulets of sweat were tracing down Peter’s shirtless form, collecting in the divots of his abs and tracing the vee of his obliques, soaking into the band of the sinfully tiny shorts slung from his hips. The golden autumn light from the window backlit the fine hair on his gloriously muscled thighs, and surrounded Peter with a shimmering halo from head to toe. Tony drank in all the details, burning them into his brain as he jogged on the treadmill.

He’s so fucking hot. Soaked in sweat, glistening above those short-shorts. Honestly how much of this can one man take? Can the universe just give me one night? I just wanna grab at his-

“Hi,Tony!” Peter called across the gym, waving and trying to catch the man’s eye.

The sudden movement and attention startled Tony, and he tripped and went careening backward off the equipment, landing flat on his back and knocking his head on the floor. “Ow! Fuck.”

“Oh my God! Tony!” Peter bounded across the compound gym and slid to his knees next to Tony’s embarrassed and sore form. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony opened his eyes to see Peter’s face hovering above him. His warm brown eyes were round with concern, chestnut curls in disarray. Tony smiled up at him with a dopey grin, and lifted a hand to touch his cheek, desperately wanting to kiss away the frown on his perfect lips. “You are so gorgeous, you know that, right?”

A flash of something rose and sank in Peter’s eyes so quickly Tony couldn’t identify it. “Okay…” Peter said, drawing out the o. “Time to get you checked out, come on.”

Peter hauled Tony up to his feet, ignoring his squawking protests that he was “just fine, c’mon, Pete” and hustled him into medical to get checked out.

Later, after being treated for his bumps and bruises, Tony was fervently grateful that Peter hadn’t listened to the besotted rambling he could fuzzily remember.

Ugh, c’mon, Tones, keep it together and leave the kid alone. You said he was beautiful and he reacted by taking you to medbay. Tony thought to himself with mild disgust, sitting alone on the edge of the medbay bed. You’ve gotta get over this!

Peter popped his head around the corner, startling Tony out of his thoughts. “Hey, you ready to get out of here?”

Tony tried and failed to stifle his blinding grin into something more appropriate. “You came back.”

Peter laughed. “Wasn’t gonna leave you all alone to recover, but I was desperate for a shower after that workout. Let’s head back to your place, we can watch movies while you rest up.”

Winter

They were in the lab when it happened. Tony had just given Peter a new StarkPhone to replace his old, battered model with the cracked screen. As Peter’s apps and setting transferred over, Tony heard it. That sound. The unmistakable ping of the most popular gay hookup app. Peter didn’t even flinch from where he sat next to Tony, just kept going about his business working on a new suit modification as the notification sounded over and over.

Tony’s mouth was dry, his heart pounding in his temples, sweating under his threadbare MIT hoodie. A momentous revelation was dawning over his head, and the kid was just sitting there innocently working like he hadn’t changed Tony’s life in a careless instant. This means... Peter likes guys. Oh my God, Peter likes men?

“Uhhh, Pete?” Tony’s voice was soft and hesitant. “I think your phone is going off…”

Peter was flippant as he answered, gesturing with the bright red candy cane he’d been sucking between his sugar-sticky lips. “Oh yeah, nothing important. Sorry, it is bothering you? Let me just put the phone on silent.”

“Oh, yeah, no it’s fine. I’m not bothered at all.” Tony delicately cleared his throat. “So… I’m surprised a man like you needs an app to find a hookup.”

Peter’s eyes boggled as he spun around on his stool to face Tony. “How did you… Wait, what?”

“I mean, not to be awkward or anything, but I couldn’t help but notice the notification sound.” Tony began, before delicately saying. “You seem to be very popular. I’m surprised a guy like you needs a hookup app to begin with. I mean let’s face it, you’re very, ah,” Tony’s voice squeaked humiliatingly as his mind flashed over thoughts of Peter’s physique. ”Attractive…”

Peter threw his hands up in the air, wild exasperation written across his features. “This! This was what got your attention? My notifications?!” Peter spun on his stool to face Tony directly, voice still raised as he waved his half eaten candy cane. “Tony, I’ve been trying to draw your attention to me being gay for almost a year! I’d practically given up!” Peter pointed accusingly at Tony. “Do you know the ridiculous things I’ve done? The outfits I’ve worn? I’ve tried to seduce you in the gym, by the pool, in the lab! Hell, I’ve been deep throating a candy cane for the past 25 minutes! An app! Unbelievable!”

“Uh, what?” Tony was completely floored by Peter’s ranting as his thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the conversation. Seduce me? He’s been trying to seduce me? What the fuck?

“And now you have the audacity to be shocked?” Peter was seething at Tony as he sat there stunned.

Suddenly Peter grabbed Tony’s shoulders and pulled him into a furious kiss. Tony instinctively tilted his head as their lips clashed together, making a small sound of shock behind his closed lips. Tony’s lips parted as Peter’s tongue darted in delicately, stabbing gently inside Tony’s mouth. The older man moaned into the kiss, feeling heat spread down to the tips of his toes.

Peter drew back and lifted his hands from Tony’s shoulder to grasp desperately at the sides of his head, mumbling against Tony’s lips. “You’re an incredibly infuriating man, Tony Stark.”

Tony panted quietly, half hard in his jeans and head spinning. He reached out to grab at the sleeves of Peter’s sweater and steady himself.

“I… I didn’t know, Pete,” Tony whispered. “I would never think that you’d be interested in someone so much older and frankly you’re just so attract-”

Peter gently shushed Tony and brought their lips back together for a series of light pecks, petting absently at Tony’s hair while they kissed.

The younger man pulled away again to speak. “Let me show you how interested I am. Can I do that?”

“Yes!” Tony gasped as Peter leaned in to suck a livid mark into his neck. “You can do anything to me.”

Peter grinned against the column of Tony’s throat. “That’s an awfully big promise. I might make you regret it.”

Tony pulled Peter’s head up to look at Peter seriously. “I don’t think you could make me regret this, even if you tried.”

Peter’s eyes widened before he leaned forward desperately, knocking their mouths together again, finesse gone out the window. Their teeth clacked as the kiss deepened, Tony’s mouth being plundered once again.

The next hour passed by in Tony’s mind in a blur of sin. Being spread over the lab table, pants down around his knees as Peter proved his tongue was just as talented in Tony’s ass- gasping at the slow penetration as Peter worked him open with strong fingers- crying out in pleasure over and over as Peter thrust in, deep strokes pressing across Tony’s sweet spot- feeling Peter’s hand wrapped around his straining erection, pulling Tony over the edge with rough strokes and a rush of white heat as Peter chased his own pleasure in Tony’s tightness.

They ended up on the cold floor of the lab, Tony cuddled against Peter’s chest, sticky with sweat and release.

“That… that was fantastic,” Tony sighed, hiding his face against the solid muscles beneath him.

Peter’s grasp tightened where he was holding Tony close. “I knew it would be. Totally worth a year of slow seduction to wind up with you in my arms.”

Tony let out a bark of laughter. “I guess Rhodey really was right, he was shaking his head at my idiocy all the way back at the pool party this summer.”

Peter’s chest under Tony’s head as he laughed. “Rhodey was totally right. He’d already given me a shovel talk by then, and I was beginning to think it would never be relevant. He pulled me aside after the party and told me not to give up hope, and explained all the hearts you’ve broken through sheer obliviousness over the years.”

“Yeah, he’s a good wingman,” Tony reminisced fondly before Peter’s words fully processed. “Wait, hang on, all the hearts I’ve broken through obliviousness?”

“Never change Tony, please.” Peter’s voice crackled with mirth before lowering into seriousness. “Now that I have you, I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

#starkerfestivalsevents #starker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #starker fanfiction #fanfiction #livvibee #beta read by the amazing TellMeNoAgain

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Note

A Deidara/Ino (DeiIno) fic with “Zinnia” please. I know it’s a weird ship, but I think their strong personalities go well with the flower.

Hey, Anon! This is a really interesting ship :D The zinnia flower represents a number of things, including endurance, remembrance, and lasting friendship. So, I thought up an AU for the two of them. I hope you enjoy it!

“Hey.” His sky-blue eyes were wide and his expression solemn as he gazed intently at Ino. The rain pelted against the windows, making the street blur into watercolor smudges. Dew still clung to the many potted flowers littered around the shop from where Ino had watered them, and his shoulder-length blond hair and serious expression refracted in each little bead.“You won’t forget me, will you?”

Ino jolted awake with a snort. Her eyelashes flapped rapidly as she rose unceremoniously into consciousness, eyes hazy and unfocused beneath the thin platinum-blonde fibers. A sliver of drool leaked from her glossed lips to pool under her chin. Growing more lucid by the microsecond, she scowled at the gross, wet sensation of it clinging to her chin and wiped it away with her wrist, then cleaned the drool off onto her sundress. She’d fallen asleep manning the cash register at her parents’ flower shop… again.

“I just can’t help it,” she mumbled, slouching back over the counter and scooting the metal chair closer so as not to stretch out her back too far. With the pleasant aroma of a hundred flower species wafting on the air spilled down by the ceiling fans combined with the warm sunlight streaming through the many windows, it was nearly impossible not to be lulled into a doze. Ino could already feel her eyelids growing heavy again as she sat there, just staring at the colorful blooms in plastic pots. Yet she didn’t fall asleep, for she was thinking about the blond-haired, bright-eyed boy from her dreams.

How many years ago was that? Ten, maybe? she wondered with a small frown. A long time ago, for sure. Every summer since she was old enough to carry some semblance of responsibility, Ino had manned the flower shop for her parents when they had to run errands. Of course, back then she had only been eight, so she wasn’t left for more than a few hours at a time… Usually. That particular summer a surprise rainstorm had struck while her parents were out. A mudslide had covered the road back, leaving Ino stranded alone at the flower shop for hours. The cell towers had failed, meaning she had no idea where her parents were or if they were all right. She’d sat in the corner and cried, terrified for both her well-being and that of her parents, until she’d heard a tentative rapping on the door.

She’d never asked why he’d been wandering the rainstorm by himself; she just let him right in, more desperate to not be alone anymore than to do the right thing. He was wearing a bright duck-yellow raincoat the same shade as his sopping wet blond hair, and his blue eyes shone bright in the flashing lightning. She’d locked the door behind him, chewing her lip and growing shy to be in the presence of a stranger.

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked her, and she just nodded bashfully. The fear returned, causing tears to prick at the corners of her eyes. “Hey, don’t cry,” he smiled, and Ino fancied it was a nice smile indeed. He reached out with tender hands to thumb her tears away, replacing the salty brine with fresh rainwater. “I’m here now. We’ll weather the storm together.”

Ino jumped as a loud rumble of thunder snatched her from the embrace of sleep again. She jolted into a sitting position and looked at the rectangular window beside the counter, finding the street veiled by a waterfall stream of rain. The sunlight had faded, choked out by the thick gray storm clouds dumping the deluge of water to earth. She rose from the chair to walk to the window, trying to peer through the thick stream out at the street. She caught snatches of clear images— water puddling in wide rivers over the road, people running into the closest buildings with their jackets held up over their heads, lightning shooting like white snakes through the clouds.

Wow, what a storm, she thought with pursed lips. She rounded the counter to go to the front door, flipping the sign to “CLOSED” and locking it. No one would come out to buy flowers in this deluge; the wind would rip it to shreds, based on the way it whistled shrilly and rattled the glass. Ino grabbed her cellphone when she came back to the counter, pulling up her mother’s contact information and giving her a call.

“Hey, Mom. I just wanted to warn you that the weather’s gotten nasty over here. You and Dad should probably stay at the hotel another night.” She scraped the paint off the wood with her manicured nails as her mother’s worried voice buzzed through the other line. “No, no, I’m all right. I’ll wait for it to clear up, and if it doesn’t, I can sleep in the break room,” she said with a smile, trying to alleviate her mother’s worries. “Sure. Yeah, I’m fine, really! There’s food in the break fridge, and I can keep myself busy working on tomorrow’s call-in orders. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.”

She set the cellphone down on the counter with a small sigh. She tapped her nails against the wood, debating. She could get started on the call-in orders, but… there was something about the rain that lulled her into lethargy. She found her eyes drooping again already. Just a little nap…

She had just plunked down against the counter when she heard it: rapraprap.

“Huh?” she huffed, arms scrabbling over the counter as she jerked up. Her bleary eyes searched the gloom of the flower shop, watching the light play over the various colored petals and green leaves. The rapping sounded again, and this time she was lucid enough to realize that it was coming from the front door.

“Jeez, do they not see that we’re closed?” she huffed, pushing herself up from the chair. Her flats went whap-whap-whap against the floor as she walked around the counter towards the door. “Hey! We’re closed!” she shouted while she approached. She jabbed her finger purposefully toward the sign, and the slender man standing there lifted the bottom of his hood to flash her a charming smile. Piercing blue eyes danced beneath a swathe of bright yellow hair, and Ino sucked in a breath.

“Aw, you won’t even open for an old friend?”

A heartbeat, then another. Had she strayed into a dream? If it was, it was a shitty thing for her subconscious to do. She stepped closer to the glass, close enough for her breath to fog against the pane. Tentatively, she uttered, “Deidara?”

“The one and only, sweets.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest again.

“Hey, sweets, you like candy?” he asked, holding out a piece of taffy wrapped in white plastic. She had been sitting at a stool beside some roses for some time, sniffling. She was scared that her parents were out there injured, and she was stuck here. At least she wasn’t alone anymore. She took the taffy with trembling hands and unwrapped it, then popped the pink candy into her mouth. Strawberry. She loved strawberries, and she told him that.

“I knew it,”he grinned. “Don’t worry, sweets. I’m sure your parents are just fine. I’ll keep you company until you hear from ‘em, okay?”

The lock clicked when she turned it. The sign rattled lightly against the glass as she slowly eased the door open to peer through the gap. She looked him up and down— it sure looked like him, but damn, he’d grown up to be a looker. Dark gray skinny jeans, spattered with rain, hugged his body in all the right ways. Under his red-and-gray jacket, he wore a muscle tank that left little to the imagination. Ino felt her cheeks flushing as she spied the ridges of his muscles dancing beneath the fabric.

“You gonna let me in, sweets, or leave me out here in the rain?” Deidara joked, pulling her back to reality. She hurriedly opened the door the rest of the way to allow him in, and he sidled in like he owned the place— just like he had all those years ago. Water squeaked under his sneakers as it gathered against the wood, and when he tossed back his hood to shake out his water-dusted hair, Ino discovered it was nearly as long as hers, tied up into a long ponytail. “I didn’t intend to meetcha like this, but I gotta say, it’s damn ironic,” he smirked as he turned around to face her. Ino hovered in the doorway, wondering if a coincidence like this could truly exist.

“Yeah,” was all she could think of to say. He gave her a sardonic grin, which made her blush.

“You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Well… It feels like I have,” she admitted, clasping her hands behind her back while she twisted her body slowly from side to side. “I never thought I would see you again, and yet, here you are… It’s a bit disorienting, especially considering the circumstances are the same.”

“Yeah, life is funny like that, huh?” Deidara chuckled. He turned to start investigating the flowers perched on the shelves. He reached up to brush his fingertips over the tiny petals of an orange zinnia flower, a smile playing over his thin lips. “I knew I’d find you still working here… That was your dream, wasn’t it? To take over the flower shop?”

“Yeah,” she blushed. He remembered… Maybe he’d spent the summers thinking about her just like she’d been thinking about him. “What about you? You wanted to be an artist, right?”

“An artist?” she’d cooed in delight, and Deidara had puffed out his chest in pride.

“That’s right! One day, I’m gonna be famous!” However, almost as soon as the confidence had come, it dissolved, and he slumped down into his stool. “But… I’ve been having trouble finding inspiration lately. I want to make things, but I just don’t know what to make.”

“I get like that sometimes with my flower arrangements.” She’d hopped off the stool to totter over to a half-finished bouquet. She’d poked and prodded at the arrangement, adding accent sprigs and then taking them away. “What do you call it? A muse? You just have to find that, right? When I get stumped, I think about great big fields of flowers…” she hummed, taking a deep breath as she imagined it. “And then suddenly I have the answer!”

He’d stared at her a moment, then laughed.

“That’s girly.”

“Yes indeed,” he grinned, dropping his hand and turning back to her. “I’m nothing special, just won a few international awards and sold some million-dollar pieces…” he bragged nonchalantly, brushing raindrops off his jacket. He laughed heartily as Ino’s mouth dropped open in utter shock, prompting him to walk forward and press his palms to her cheeks to squish them a little. “Ah, don’t get all starry-eyed on me, sweets.”

“I can’t help it!” she slurred through his squishing. “Million-dollar pieces? That’s insane!” He let go of her, leaving her cheeks pink and tingly from his touch. “Can I see them? Surely you have pictures, right?”

Deidara’s lit up at that, like two blue suns sparkling in the gloom. He practically dove his hand into his pocket to grab his cell phone, which made Ino chuckle. He scooted up next to her so she could see his phone screen, and the scent of his spicy cologne mixing with the rainwater made her head swim a little bit. He cycled through the photographs of his artworks, while Ino half-listened to his explanations, because there was something…

“Is that… me?” The centerpiece of each work was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl. She didn’t want to be narcissistic, but surely that couldn’t be a coincidence too, right? She looked up at Deidara to find a soft, dreamy smile on his face as he gazed gently down at her.

“Yeah… You remember when I said that I struggled to find inspiration? After we met… You became my muse, Ino.” With a wan sigh, he stowed his phone, and then ran both his hands through his hair. An embarrassed smile played over his mouth, and Ino had to grin, because it was so cute to see him flustered when he’d come in acting all suave.

“And you’d called it girly,” she teased.

“I don’t remember that,” he defended in a huff, but she knew he was lying from the blush that spread over his cheeks. “Anyway… I figured it was time I came back here and thanked you.”

“A cut of your profits would be a very nice thank-you indeed,” she joked, walking over to play with the zinnias. Deidara snorted at that. As she fluffed the flowers, she paid a little less attention to the weather— so when a great big crack of thunder boomed overhead, she couldn’t help but jump and squeal. She felt eight years old again, trapped in this too-small shop while the world seemed to end outside.

“Still scared of thunderstorms, eh, sweets?” Deidara said softly in her ear. God, when had he snuck up behind her? He had his hands clutching the table on either side of her hips, and his chest just barely brushed against her back. She felt his spicy cologne wafting around her again, and her eyes fluttered as she grew a little hazy.

“N-no,” she said defensively. “It just surprised me, is all. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No,” he murmured, a hand moving in to skim ever-so-lightly over her hip. “No, you aren’t.” He didn’t move further, just played with the edge of her apron— he was waiting for permission. It was like a cheesy romance film; he showed up after ten years, under the same circumstances, saying that she was his muse, and now he was laying the moves on her?

Fuck, how was Ino supposed to refuse? She would be the worst protagonist ever if she did! Besides, she didn’t spend the last ten summers mooning over him for no reason. It had always been in the back of her mind— that fairy tale ending, that one-in-a-million chance, that fantastical daydream she thought would never come true. She looked over her shoulder at him, their breath mixing in the muggy greenhouse air and the rain pounding incessantly above their heads.

“Why did you come here, Deidara?” she asked in a whisper of a breath. His mouth curled up in a smirk, while his eyes fixed on her own glossy lips.

“To weather the storm with you,” he answered with a straight face. It didn’t take long for that mischievous lilt to appear on his smile, though. “Aaaaaaaand… Maybe kiss you breathless, if you’re into that.”

“Why don’t you just kiss me and find out?” she sassed, and her cheek made his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“Not quite so cute and helpless anymore, are you?”

“Afraid not. You’d be surprised how cutthroat the florist business is.”

He tipped back his head in a raucous laugh, and while he did so, Ino turned around in his arms to face him and rest her palms against his chest. When he finally looked back at her, sighing in amusement, he rested his hands on her hips and twirled the ends of her platinum-blonde hair around his fingertips. Ino fluttered her eyelashes demurely at him— as good an indication as any for him to get on with it.

And get on with it he did. Ino melted into him as he leaned down to brush his lips over hers— softly, tentatively. He rapidly grew in confidence, sweeping her up into a passionate kiss. It felt like their lips slotted together perfectly, like a lock and key, like they’d always belonged together. He really did kiss her breathless, again and again and again, while the rain cascaded down around them.

“I’m glad you didn’t forget me,” he whispered against her mouth when he finally pulled away. Ino giggled and looked up at him through her lashes.

“I promised you that I wouldn’t,” she chuckled. “Besides, how could I forget you?”

“I am pretty memorable,” he said with a cocky nod, prompting Ino to thump him playfully on the chest. He purred and wrapped her up in a tight hug, holding her close. “But still… I couldn’t help but worry, just a little bit, that it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.”

Ino didn’t answer, just smiled into his chest. Some things just didn’t need to be said. The rain picked up outside, pounding against the window with a vengeance, but Ino didn’t mind. Once again, she had someone to weather the storm with.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#deino #deiino #deidara x ino #ino x deidara #ino yamanaka #yamanaka ino #deidara #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction

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