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extravaguk · 3 years

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook fic

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amchara · 2 years

Text

Weather Change (Kit/Ty)

Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn (Kit/Ty), original characters

Wordcount: 5,121 words (one-shot to kick off The London Files)

Rating: Teen, cw description of serious injuries

Summary: It’s been almost five years since an epic line-up of Shadowhunter heroes and their allies closed all the portals to Hell. Now, demons are scarce and the Nephilim are searching for their purpose in this new world. Centurion Ty Blackthorn has been sent to London to investigate a potential new threat, while Kit Herondale has taken up a post helping to rebuild the London Enclave. But when their first patrol goes horribly wrong, Kit and Ty realise there may be larger problems emerging in the Shadow World, drawing in not only Shadowhunters but their mundane friends and Downworlders alike…

Notes: Post-TWP established Kit/Ty. Set in the same 'verse as Effortless but you don't need to have read that story to understand this one, except to know that Ade and Ellie are Kit's school friends from Devon.

(This is the last of my Ao3 reposts before I begin posting the new fic tomorrow. This story could be considered the prologue to it, so highly recommend reading it before the new one. ;)

“I hate London,” Kit said, as they sat on a narrow, slippery ledge of a building above Commercial Road, in the city’s East End. It was drizzling lightly and despite their weather-proofed gear, he could feel the wet drops slowly inching from his neck down to the rest of his body.

Ty glanced over, giving Kit a sceptical look. “You don’t- you kept talking about how excited you were to come back and patrol with the London Institute. And have proper chocolate again. And the fact you’d be closer to Jem, Tessa and Mina. And-”

“Yeah- yeah, okay,” Kit said, interrupting. “But we’re trading hot L.A. summer weather and perfect surfing conditions,” he grumbled. “For this miserable August night.”

“So it’s just the weather then,” Ty said, with a small smile on his face. He wasn’t looking at Kit anymore but his eyes were scanning the poorly-lit street in front of him.

Kit huffed in mock outrage but he conceded the point. “Yeah, fine- it’s just the weather. I am looking forward to using that fireplace when we get back.”

After arriving by Portal earlier that morning at a hellishly early time, they had ensconced themselves in the historic Herondale townhouse on Curzon Street, with preserved decor and plush interiors. Kit had then discovered the fireplace in the corner of the room they had crashed out in for a few hours to adjust to the time difference, and Ty, being the type fascinated by fire, had also agreed they should light it once they had returned from patrol.

“How much longer do you want to wait here until we move on?” Kit asked, as he stretched his neck, shivering at the cold water inching into his ear.

“Five more minutes and then we head down to Tower Bridge,” Ty said. He took out his phone and covering it from the rain, checked something. He looked up and frowned. “But this was the most likely location, according to the reports.”

“Right- but these attacks and sightings have been reported all over London, right?”

“Concentrated in the east though,” Ty reminded him. “But not related to Jack the Ripper loca-” he stopped and straightened up on the ledge. Kit mirrored his position and looked in the same direction. With his night vision rune, Kit could see a flicker of odd, greyish-yellow light flicker at the edge of a nearby building

Ty had already started climbing down, his long limbs nimble as he made his way to the ground. Kit followed with less finesse, careful with his handholds on the slippery surfaces. He jumped the last few feet and stood beside Ty, who had already pulled out an unlit seraph blade from his belt, his face intent as he followed the willowy light as it vanished around the corner.

Kit came to stand by Ty’s shoulder. “Seraph or non-seraph weapons?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Demon attacks had dwindled in the past few years after the dimensional portals had all been sealed but Shadowhunters continued to carry seraph-created weapons regardless, for mopping up and- in Kit’s opinion, because they were the iconic Shadowhunter weapon. But they weren’t as useful as in the past and these new ‘wraith’ attacks, as the reports had called them, were unclear as to whether seraph blades worked or what weapon was best to defeat them.

Ty turned slightly and he showed the small handheld crossbow in his other hand. “Both, I think,” he said.

Kit nodded. He pulled out his own selection of adamas weapons and traditional ones.

Then they rounded the corner and prepared to fight.

Shit, Ty’s injuries were bad. Under the dim street lights, his blood looked as black as his hair as Kit lifted up his shirt. The tough gear fabric had probably prevented the worst of the damage but that wasn’t saying much, Kit thought. Ty looked down at the massive gash on his side, the glass, mud and rubble mixing with his blood and his eyes widened as he looked up at Kit. But he didn’t say anything, just kept breathing in small, shallow pants.

“Ty…” Kit gripped his hand, forcing himself to also take slow breaths as he assessed it. It looked bad, he thought, but he could tell almost immediately it wasn’t life-threatening. But having trained a bit with Tessa and Catarina in field medicine, he knew that this type of wound wasn’t one that could be healed with a few iratzes - it would required cleaning the debris out first, several salves and other steps, including blood loss runes, before even a simple healing rune could be applied.

“It’s not going to kill me,” Ty said, in a low voice, squeezing Kit’s hand back, as if to reassure him.

“No- but it’s going to be fucking unpleasant to deal with,” Kit told him. “It’s okay though- let me just figure out how to best get you help.”

Ty nodded, his face relaxing in trust as Kit pulled out some gauze from his small medical pouch on his weapons belt and gently packed the wound. Then he gave Ty a quick kiss on his forehead, amid the dark, damp tangles of hair and pulled out his phone.

He called a number but it rang through. Kit looked at his phone and frowned… one other option to try before they had to make their way to Westminster and call on the Silent Brothers. He looked over at Ty, and could see that the colour of his face had drained to an even paler alabaster and Kit knew that he was working with limited time before Ty passed out from the blood loss.

Hey, do u know if ade is working at royal london tonight? x

kit!!! thought you werent back until tomorrow! Yea i think so but im not his keeper or girlfriend so dont rely on me. Xxxxxx

Kit’s phone buzzed again.

u still on for brunch at spitalfields? i want to hear all about u and tys la exploits Xxxxx

yeah xxx

Kit clicked his screen off. He wasn’t entirely sure they would be up for a tell-all with Ellie in the morning but it was easier to say yes at the moment, given how relentless she would be otherwise.

He drew an amisso rune on Ty’s abdomen, just below the wound and giving him a reassuring squeeze on his arm. “Here’s the plan,” he said. “We’re going to head to Ade’s work and see if he can get the glass out, that way I can do proper iratzes on it.” He also quickly sketched the Silent Brothers diagnostic rune that he wasn’t supposed to know but Jem had taught him anyway. Good, no internal bleeding.

Ty’s eyes opened. “To a mundane hospital?” He sounded surprised but he let Kit help him to his feet and they started slowly making their way out of the narrow alley. Kit kept glancing upwards but it appeared the wraith had disappeared, at least for the moment.

“Yeah- it’s just a couple blocks from here,” Kit said. Or, at least, he hoped his memory was correct. He knew it was only a short way from Commercial Road.

They picked their way through small side streets lined with Victorian-era terraces, blocky modern flats, Bangladeshi fabric export businesses and fried chicken shops, guided both by Kit’s faint memory and google maps until they reached a bulky blue and grey building complex and Kit could see the sign that read: Royal London Hospital. Supporting Ty, he could feel his shallow, painful breaths and Kit suspected he had also broken or bruised some ribs when he had been thrown into the shop window.

He and Ty followed the signs to A&E around to the front of the building, skirting around the bright yellow and green ambulances and slipped through the sliding doors, two black-clad young men invisible to the eyes of the mundane patients sat around them.

Fortunately, it didn’t take too long to locate Ade. Kit could see him standing at some kind of station, his tall frame with his back to Kit, talking to other nurses and doctors. Kit was just about to figure out how he could get his attention when Ty suddenly buckled in his shoulder. Kit looked over in alarm, and could see Ty’s eyes fluttering and Kit could hear a steady drip, drip, drip of blood around Ty’s shoes.

“Kit- I uh,” Ty said weakly.

“I know, I know,” Kit scrambled to find a spot where he could lay Ty down. Most of the cubicles were occupied in the small treatment area and there weren’t many side rooms either. But then he spotted a small linen cupboard area and he hustled Ty over and had him sit on several piles of them. He hoped the mundanes wouldn’t notice the blood- while they were glamoured, their blood was not.

As Ade next walked around, Kit slashed a line through his glamour rune with his stele, and reached out, pulling Ade into the area they were hiding in. And was rewarded with a punch in the face.

“Arghh,” he said and Ade dropped his defensive boxing posture once he realized who was in front of him.

“Kit?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief and he ran his hands through his black curls as he took in his friend. Then he narrowed his eyes. “You’re bleeding. What the fuck are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

“It’s not mine, it’s Ty’s,” Kit said, and Ty, with white-faced effort, also removed his glamour.

Ade let out a small whistle as he took in the scene and the injured Shadowhunter in front of him. With a professional air, he took in Ty but his voice was sharp as he glanced over at Kit. “Why can’t you heal him?” He gestured. “With your - you know, glowy magic.”

Kit couldn’t help but wince. Even a few years on, it hurt to think about what he had had to give up in the fight to save the world. “Sorry, fresh out of it. We need your help.” He quickly outlined Ty’s injuries as Ade knelt down and looked briefly as Kit lifted up Ty’s shirt. His dark brown eyes assessed Ty and his hands were gentle as he lifted up Kit’s field bandage. Ty, who normally didn’t like anyone other than Kit and his family touching him, shuddered briefly but didn’t move otherwise, his grey eyes half-closed. Kit touched his shoulder and Ty leaned into him.

Ade sat back on his heels. “Right I need to see the patient in cubicle four but lucky for you, I’m supposed to go on my break once I finish with them.” He handed Kit a few wadded-up linens. “Use these if the bleeding continues but it looks like you’ve stopped the worst of it. At least, until I look at getting those glass fragments out.”

“Thanks, Ade,” Kit said. “I owe you.”

Despite the late hour and his tired face, Ade’s face split into a wide smile. “You do, mate- this is my first week as a junior doctor. I did not need injured Shadowhunters on my shift on top of everything else.” He clapped Kit on the shoulder as he stood. “Back soon.”

“So, by my account we probably broke about five laws tonight,” Ty said, his voice raspy and exhausted as he sat down on the narrow bed.

“So, fewer than usual,” Kit said, shrugging. “I’ll take the win. Shirt off - let me give you the necessary Marks and then we can finally sleep.”

He could see Ty’s focus on him, and knew that he wanted to talk about the way the patrol went down and why Kit hadn’t called any of the London Enclave. But that was a conversation for the morning. He deflected. “Since when are you worried about laws? Usually you’re keen to whip out the Blackthorn motto whenever we encounter a roadblock that can be solved with a good rule-breaking.”

Ty gave him a wan smile. “Not worried- I like to keep track though.”

They were Ade’s small staff accommodation room, less than a block away from the hospital.

Ade had tossed Kit his key after he had finished picking out the glass and cleaning Ty’s wound. “There’s no way Ty’s going to be in any state to travel back to your place tonight- unless,” he gave Kit a speculative look. “Unless you can teleport?”

Ty had let out a short laugh as he leaned on Kit to stand up. “Not yet.”

Kit knew he could call Tessa and ask for a Portal - but it was three am on a weekday and while he knew Tessa wouldn’t care, he didn’t want to risk waking Mina.

He had shaken his head and Ade nodded. “So use my room until I’m done with my shift. I should be finished and back around eight.”

While it might’ve been polite to refuse after all his friend was done, Kit had been both physically and mentally exhausted and a close by bed sounded like heaven.

Ade watched them go. “And you’re sure on-”

“No blood transfusions,” Ty said. “I’m not even sure our blood is compatible with yours.” Ade did a quick double take and looked like he wanted to ask questions.

“It’s fine- now that the glass is gone, I can do something about that with runes,” Kit had reassured Ade. “And we’ll be out of your hair by morning- thanks.”

Kit bit his lip as he concentrated on drawing the necessary healing runes on Ty’s torso. An agony rune - meant to heal more serious injuries - and a couple of iratzes and amisso runes. He paused and assessed Ty’s state before he drew a sanglier - a blood replacement rune. It was a powerful rune but could be dangerous if the bearer wasn’t strong enough. But given what Ade said about blood loss… kneeling in front of Ty, Kit could see that although he looked drawn, his colour was better than it had been under the bright hospital lights and his face was no longer tight with pain.

He bent down and drew the intricate rune. A hand came down on his head, and he could feel Ty stroking his hair in an absent way, hissing slightly as the Marks took effect.

Kit took a moment to just breathe, in the moonlit room. He placed a kiss on Ty’s hand and then moved to take a place beside him on the bed, slipping his arm beside him in an embrace taking care not to jostle where Ty was healing. Ty leaned his head against Kit’s.

“Lie down,” he said after a few minutes. Ty stirred against him and Kit realised he had almost fallen asleep. He didn’t protest as Kit helped him lie down, his eyes already shut by the time he hit the pillow.

Despite his exhaustion, Kit didn’t move to sleep right away. He watched Ty’s bare chest, a swirl of black marks and pale skin, rise and fall slowly. Shadows pooled in the delicate bone structure of his face and Kit was reminded of the first time he had met Ty. How beautiful.

He sighed and kicked off his boots and stripped off his gear. On Ty’s injured side, the temporary staples that Ade had put in were slowly falling out, as the skin knit back together and Kit grabbed them so Ty wouldn’t roll onto them in his sleep. He tossed them in his hand, small flashes of silver, as he attempted to put together the chaotic scene that had preceded Ty getting hurt.

The wraith, a blurry humanoid figure of greyish-yellow fire, had spotted them as soon as they had rounded the corner and had taken off with unbelievable speed. They had given chase, Ty much closer to catching up to it and Kit trying to keep up. Ty had managed to corral it in a narrow alley behind a housing estate and Kit had run around the back of the buildings, attempting to cut it off.

But between that time, something had gone badly wrong and Kit had turned up to broken glass and an alarm going off and Ty lying scarily still in the wreckage of the storefront window, and the wisps of the wraith running away.

Beside him, he could feel Ty stirring and a hand pulled him down onto the narrow bed. “Stop trying to solve it now - I’ll tell you everything in the morning,” Ty whispered in his hair, his voice thick with sleep. “Come to bed,” he said.

“All right,” Kit said, leaning down to kiss Ty’s temple and the responding happy hum from Ty helped ease some of the tightness in Kit’s chest. He curled up around Ty’s warm body, listening to the steady patter of rain against the window as he fell asleep.

Kit woke up to his phone buzzing on the side table beside him. He fumbled for it but was prevented from it by Ty’s arms tightening around him.

“No,” Ty muttered sleepily.

“Ty- I have to-,” Kit disentangled his limbs from Ty’s and attempted to reach again. But before he could, a brown hand reached up and handed it over to him.

Plucking his phone out of the air, Kit peered over the side of the bed. Ade blinked in an owlish manner from the nest of blankets on the floor. “You’re welcome,” he said, yawning widely.

Kit looked down at his phone which read: 11:37

“Shit,” he said. “Sorry- we forgot to set alarms and-”

Ade waved him off. “Don’t make a habit of it but I’ll forgive you this one time.” He grinned. “Plus, you both looked so sweet, ye mighty Shadowhunters all curled up like a couple of puppies.”

Kit fought the urge to blush. “Yeah, we’re adorable, we know,” he said. Speaking of… he turned to look over his shoulder to see Ty now awake and following the conversation. Kit sat up fully and he took a moment to check in. There were a few shadows under Ty’s eyes but he noted Kit’s look-over and he nodded.

“I’m better,” Ty said, to both Kit and Ade who had also popped up to check on his patient. Ty sat up, still bare-chested, and swung his legs down, standing up to show Ade the side that had been injured.

Ade whistled as he took in the practically-healed skin. “Incredible,” he said.

“Yeah,” Ty said, with a small smile. “Go ahead- ask the questions you want to,” he threw a glance over to Kit. “As Kit said last night, it’s not like we’re going to get in trouble for breaking a few more laws.”

“You have no idea how much I’d like to take you to a uni lab and run some tests,” Ade said, wistful. “I know that-”

Kit could see a familiar investigative gleam in Ty’s eye and interjected. “Maybe another time we can go over how we can completely smash the Clave rule of no mundane medical treatment more than we already did… but I think we had a fairly good crack at it last night and we should head out and let you sleep, Ade.”

He looked down at his phone, noting the seven new whatsapp messages he had received. “And Ty and I need to go buy some clothes that are suitable for meeting up in public with Ellie.”

“Buying clothes?” Ty looked a bit out, he generally wasn’t a fan of shopping.

“I’ll be quick,” Kit assured him, patting him on the thigh. “But we can’t go out looking like we’ve not changed from the BDSM club.”

Ade smirked as he took in Ty only in his gear trousers and the fact that Kit’s gear was currently in a pile on the floor. “I mean, you could. It’s London mate and East London at that… but do you really want to give Ellie that much ammunition? Alongside that?”

Kit was confused until Ade pointed to his hair, which had come out of its tie over the course of the night. “Oh, right,” he said, suddenly remembering that Ellie hadn’t seen his new hairstyle. He shrugged. “I mean, it’s only fitting I have the right hipster clothes to match, right?”

Ade cackled. “Truth.” Then he sobered. “Right, so you going to be all mysterious and broody demon hunters and disappear again for another six months? Or am I going to actually get an explanation this time?” he sounded disapproving.

“Nope, no radio comms silence from Faerie this time around. We’re-” he jerked his head over to Ty, with a smile. “We’re both assigned to London for the next little while. So it’ll be our base.”

“Lit,” Ade said, and he reached over to give Kit a fist bump, and offered one to Ty as well, who reciprocated after the slightest hesitation.

“Are you coming for some food too?” Ty asked, his eyes focused on Ade’s shoulder. He pulled on his gear shirt, and grabbed his airpods out of his pocket.

Ade hesitated. “I should probably sleep a bit more before tonight’s shift.”

“We’ll buy you coffee,” Ty said. “And breakfast.” Kit looked over at him, suddenly suspicious. It wasn’t that he thought Ty and Ade didn’t get along- they had met several times, in Devon and the one time Ade had visited L.A. but Ty’s voice held a note of… something else. Ty noticed his gaze and he shrugged. “We owe him.”

“Yeah, of course-” Kit said. “Anything you want at Spitalfields…”

He figured Ty would let him know what was up soon.

Being the middle of the summer and a rainy day at that, Spitalfields Market was busy, the crowds buzzing under the steel and glass roof. Kit, Ade and Ty bought their food quickly from the surrounding food stalls - a savoury crepe for Ty, some spicy noodles for Kit and a large pulled pork sandwich and black coffee for Ade - and then retreated to the outdoor tables under a covered awning to wait for Ellie.

She arrived shortly after, a whirlwind figure in a floral dress, a light denim jacket and oversized sunglasses despite the rainy day. Her hair was a deep mauve colour, with a fresh undercut on one side and swept behind her multi-pierced ear on the other.

“Kit!” She jumped on him from behind, giving him a kiss on his cheek, and Kit turned and picked her up into a hug, her vanilla and peach scent flooding his senses. He set her down and she popped her sunglasses off, to give him a severe look with her bright blue eyes. “You’ve gone full L.A. again, I see.” She reached up and felt his bun.

Kit swatted her away. “Hey, the man-bun has gone transatlantic, we saw several just in front of Liverpool Street Station alone. Plus, you know it looks good on me.”

She pursed her lips as she gave him her usual once over. “Yeah, fair. It seems to be the never ending trend… at least you haven’t gone for the scruffy facial hair too.” She grinned though, and sat down, looking across to Ty and Ade.

“Ti-bae-rius, looking gorgeous as always,” she said, winking at Ty.

Ty, who had become used to Ellie over the years, said evenly. “Hi Ellie.” And continued to eat his crepe, his eyes switching between watching the interaction in front of him, and taking in the surrounding area.

Ellie turned next to Ade. “Ade.. you look- tired as all hell,” her voice was sympathetic. “I thought you’re on nights all this week?”

Ade nodded. “Yep. But I had an interesting night when this one-” he nodded at Kit. “Dragged this one looking half dead,” he pointed at Ty, “into my A&E department last night.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped. “Ooh- that’s why you texted me!” She poked Kit. “Right- spill the tea, now!”

And Kit launched into the official reason why he and Ty were in London, explaining Ty’s new posting to the European Centurion office (Ade: “Even post-Brexit?” Ty: “I don’t think the Clave follows mundane politics that closely”), and Kit’s subsequent invitation from Evelyn Highsmith, the ancient head of the London Institute, to help rebuild the London Enclave.

Kit didn’t explain the other reason: that Ty, alongside Anush and some of the other highly specialised Centurions had been called in to investigate the recent appearance of the never-before-seen ‘wraiths’ and determine what kind of threat they posed to the Downworld and Shadowhunters.

Kit looked over at Ellie as she lit her third cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke away from the table but the wind direction had it drifting back over them. He could see Ty getting irritated from the constant smoke, and to be fair, Kit was as well. “Those things will kill you,” he said to Ellie.

“Live fast, die young- isn’t that the Shadowhunter model anyway?” Ellie said lightly, holding the cigarette up in her hand.

He gave her a look, and gave the tiniest of nods over to Ty. Ellie took the hint. “Well, to be fair I never was one anyway, so I suppose I can’t use the excuse,” she said, and she stubbed it out.

Ellie gave him a bright but brittle smile before looking away. Kit was troubled by it and mentally made a note to reach out later to her to see how she was doing. He knew from her infrequent texts that she was back studying at a London university after she had taken some time off after her mum’s death. But he wondered more about the Shadowhunters comment - Ellie, as a mundane with the Sight - had almost completed the training program at the Shadowhunters Academy a few years ago, before she left when her mother had first been diagnosed with cancer. She hadn’t returned to it and given the circumstances Kit had never pressed her on it but now he wondered if he should.

Ellie nudged him. “So… other than your boyfriend almost dying last night, what else is new with you both?”

Ty frowned at that. “Bit soon, Ellie, thanks.”

Ellie waved it off. “Let’s move on from the past, I always say- are you still listening to those true crime podcasts, Ty? Any new recommendations?”

Ty accepted the peace offering, and the conversation moved on to lighter things, as Kit caught up with his friends and Ty joined in until he grew bored of their switch to British mundane politics, and pulled out his newest book. Ade went and bought a box of sourdough donuts and they were all pleasantly full by the time Ellie jumped up, looking at her watch and saying that she had a tutorial at three and needed to leave and Ade decided he’d try to sleep for a few hours before his next shift. They left with promises to text and arrange other meetups, now that Kit and Ty were going to be based in London for the next while.

Kit sat back after they left, and enjoyed people-watching from his side of the table, while Ty nodded along, earbuds in, as he read his book. Eventually, as it so often did, Kit’s eyes were drawn back to Ty. The way his long, graceful fingers flicked through his paperback back, the way his narrow but muscular body filled out the black undershirt and jeans that Kit had bought from a trendy shop on Commercial Street, covered by the white and grey plaid shirt that matched his eyes, the same colour as the cloudy skies above.

Ty could feel Kit’s eyes on him, and he put down the book, and paused his music. He watched as Kit reached out to trace the Voyance rune on his hand. “I’m fine, you know.”

Kit let out a long breath. He had been of two minds in the morning whether they should’ve just canceled on Ellie but last night’s escapades didn’t appear to be still affecting Ty. Or he was being very good at hiding it, which had occurred in the past… but Kit didn’t think that was the case now.

“I know,” Kit said. “But we need to talk about last night with that wraith and-”

“And why you didn’t want to call the London Enclave-” Ty said. He tilted his head at Kit. “Was it to do with the fire message you got right before we went out?”

Kit wasn’t surprised Ty had mostly figured it out- and to be honest, he hadn’t intended to hide it anyway, just focus on it when they had returned from the patrol. “No, that was just a check in from Aline asking if we had made it okay and to chew me out for leaving the training room in a mess before we left.” He dug out his phone. “It was this anonymous text that says ‘the London Institute is rotting from within. Tread carefully, Herondale’.”

He handed his phone over to Ty, who read the message and then hit a few buttons, which Kit assumed was the additional tech side stuff that he was good at.

“Intriguing,” Ty said, handing back the phone. “I can try tracing it when we get back.”

Both he and Kit considered the townhouse, which had last been updated in the 1960s and didn’t have many modern conveniences, such as wifi. The few times they had stayed in the past, they had used hotspots.

“Maybe you should visit Blackthorn Hall to do it,” Kit said. “Dru and Ash are there this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Ty said. “Plus, Julian’s wanting us to come to dinner as soon as possible.”

“Sounds good,” Kit said, standing. They started making their way back towards the underground, idly discussing the reasons for the message - Kit suggested it had to do with the fact that he had heard there were still remnants of the Cohort that hadn’t been kicked out - before he asked Ty his initial thoughts on the wraith encounter.

“I’m not sure,” Ty said, his face serious, as they picked their way around a busker. “It had surprisingly fast reflexes when I had it cornered and its strength was also unexpected for its size.” He looked over at Kit. “I’ll be more prepared next time.”

Kit nodded. He put his hands in his pocket, hoping that Ty took his own advice. “Okay-” he sighed. “Looks like there’s a few more things we need to be aware of, now that we’re here.”

“Oh, also the fact that Ade had vampire glamour on him,” Ty said conversationally. “We should look into that too.”

Kit stopped short. “What? How could you tell?” People streamed around them into the entrance of Liverpool Street station, no one paying attention to the conversation.

Ty rolled up his sleeve, showing Kit one of his many Marks, one that Kit wasn’t familiar with. “Remember me telling you Divya and I have been working with the Spiral Labyrinth to develop a glamour-detecting rune? This is the prototype.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m fairly certain its vampire glamour… could also be warlock but that tends to have more of a windy feel than bone-chilling cold feel.”

“Right,” Kit said. “We’re fixing that one straight away.”

“Agreed,” Ty said. “But I have no doubt we’ll be able to sort it out quickly,” he said with a graceful shrug.

Kit laughed. “Yeah, it is us, after all. Holmes.”

Ty smiled at Kit. “Watson.”

Then they went underground, letting the bustle of London continue above.

New story - "Herondales Don't Fail" starts posting tomorrow!

Taglist: @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @of-same-steel-and-temper @thomastaircompassrose @thechangeling @mferraz @kestrafagnor @gabtapia @alldagayships @blindbandit1515 @silvermagnolias @chaotic-halfblood-kit @fighting-god-69 @lifeofbrybooks @all-this-panic-still-no-disco @heloisacosta23 @kitheronthorn @idk-i-just-really-like-tsc @t0wergirl @immortal-enemies @ahumanbeingtryingherbest

#tsc fanfiction #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kit x ty #the wicked powers #post canon #hurt/comfort #secrets of blackthorn hall #my fanfic #tsc: london files #alicantenet #oc ellie harris #oc ade olawale

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allywritesanimeforfun · 3 years

Text

The Pick Up Lines That I Think OHSHC Characters Would Use On You

copy and pasted from this site

if you like this make sure to tell me if you'd like a part 2!

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Tamaki

Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.

Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.

Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Wifey material.

Are you religious? Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers.

Can I give you a hug to show you how soft my sweater is?

Roses are red. Violets are blue. I didn’t know what perfect was until I met you.

Can I follow you where you’re going right now? Because my parents always told me to follow my dreams.

You dropped something. My jaw.

Are you an interior decorator? When I saw you the room became so beautiful.

You must be a broom because you swept me off my feet.

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Come live in my heart, and pay no rent.

I’m going to make you my partner for the next five minutes. Let’s see how you like it.

Are you a cat because I’m feline a connection between us

If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

I’m new in town. Could you give me directions to your apartment?

Can I borrow your lips?

If you were a tear in my eye I would not cry for fear of losing you.

Do you want to see a picture of a beautiful person? (hold up a mirror)

I’ll give you a kiss. If you don’t like it, you can return it.

Wouldn’t we look cute on a wedding cake together

I may not be a genie, but I can make all your wishes come true!

If I followed you home, would you keep me?

Kyoya

Are you a magician? When I look at you everything disappears.

Do you like coffee? Because I like you a latte.

You look great right now. Do you know what else would look great on you? Me!

If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.

Are you a bank loan? Because you got my interest.

Are you a keyboard ? Because you are my type.

Does your name start with “C” because I can C us together.

If you were a library book, I would check you out.

When God made you, he was showing off

Is your last name Gillette? Because you are the best a man can get

Life without you is like a broken pencil… pointless.

If happiness starts with “H” why does mine start with “U”?

Roses are red. Violets are blue. It would be a shame if I couldn’t date you.

Do you like science? Because I got my ion you

There isn’t a word in the dictionary for how good you look.

Do you know what I would do if I was a surgeon? I’d give you my heart.

I’m learning about important dates in history. Wanna be one of them?

Kaoru

I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.

Are you Australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications.

If a star fell from the sky every time I thought about you, then tonight the sky would be empty.

Somebody call the cops, because it’s got to be illegal to look that good!

Sweetness is my weakness.

Is it okay if I take a photo of you so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas?

Are you lost? Because heaven is a long way from here

Hello. Are you taking any applications for a boyfriend?

You spend so much time in my mind, I should charge you rent.

Well, here I am. What were your other two wishes?

Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?

Would you touch my hand so I can tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel?

Are you Australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications.

Do you want to build a snowman? It might be hard since you’ll probably melt his heart, too.

Hikaru

Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only 10 I see!

There is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn’t have your number in it.

Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?

Hey, tie your shoes! I don’t want you falling for anyone else.

You know what’s the worst thing that can happen to you right now? Me not dating you.

I know you’re busy today, but can you add me to your to-do list?

Drake would call you and I God’s Plan.

Hello, I’m a thief, and I’m here to steal your heart.

If I were to ask you out on a date, would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?

My lips are like skittles. Wanna taste the rainbow?

Do I know you from somewhere? Oh, that’s right. My dreams.

I’d rate you a nine because the only thing missing is me.

If you were a fruit you’d be a fineapple

Be careful! You might get arrested for stealing my heart.

Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?

Can you pinch me, because you’re so fine I must be dreaming.

Takashi

If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.

Do you believe in love at first sight — or should I walk by again?

There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can’t take them off you.

Do you know why it doesn’t matter if there’s gravity or not? Because I’d still fall for you.

Do you have a map? I just got totally lost in your eyes.

Has anyone ever told you how beautiful my eyes are?

If you were a steak you would be well done.

Have you always been this cute, or did you have to work at it?

Did you just strike a match? I swear as soon as you walked in, it got lit.

Do you have a New Year’s resolution? Because I’m looking at mine right now.

Your hand looks heavy. I can hold it for you!

I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art

They say that kissing is a language of love, so would you mind starting a conversation with me?

There is something wrong with my phone. Could you call it for me to see if it rings?

Hug me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the earth flat?

You must be a ninja, because you snuck into my heart

I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.

Do you have an inhaler? You took my breath away.

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

Fear for my Lover

Pairing: DSMP!Quackity x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Blood, stitches, bruises, injuries, cursing, frontier first aid (sorry if i missed something)

Summary: Life had been busy lately. Very busy. The night was peaceful and you were more than happy to take advantage of the quiet. Even with Quackity there with you. Fate had other plans though and absolutely ruined what would've been an amazing night.

A/n: i,,, this was meant to be SHORT but also- haha i got 2-3 more parts planned brrrrrr. Also used a dialogue prompt thingy for this- you'll see them in there. They're highlighted.

You thought nothing of it when Quackity said that he was going out. Beforehand he told you that he might have to stay late to do some work. You weren’t sure if he had finished or not, but his departure only confirmed the thought that no, he had not finished business.

With a sigh, you walk over to the couch and flop onto it. The exhaustion from the many months of constant work was catching up. You missed how life was before. Even when you were stuck under Schlatt’s rule on Manberg. Yes, it was quite tedious and annoying, but you weren’t completely rebuilding a nation from the ground up along with its citizens.

The physical work of building was tiresome, but something relaxation and a few nights of rest could easily reverse the effects. Though the mental strain was a completely different story. All of the paperwork was tedious and could keep you up at night just because you need to get one more paper done before dawn. Or just knowing that you aren’t able to help everyone in the new L’manberg. So many had given up hope, were tired of the vicious cycle that they had been caught in. It may not have been going on long, but it still had its effect on everyone all the same.

So much work and so little recreational time. There was little time to care for oneself with so much work on their plate. Let alone spend time with your loved ones. Even if they lived in the same house as you. It felt alienating when you weren’t able to even have a small conversation with your significant other.

Your thoughts were deafeningly loud. Sometimes even covering each other when they brought up memories of anxieties of the past and future. That’s why it was rather surprising when the entire L’manberg cabinet ran through your front door in a frenzy. Jumping off of the couch, you try to survey the situation. What in Pime’s name could be going on?

Their hysterical cacophony of voices were all that reached your ears. You didn’t even need to hear their words when you saw Quackity’s limp body in Fundy’s arms.

Without a second thought, you push your way over to Fundy and Quackity, quickly searching him for injuries. Well, the injuries part was pretty obvious with all of the blood. But the extent of the injuries were another story. What could be going on? How bad was it? Oh Prime, why was there so much blood?

In the frenzy you must’ve said something because something happened. One moment you are near the entrance with your beloved in the arms of his co-worker and the next you’re tending to his wounds in your shared bed. Nobody else was in the room. It was just you and Quackity. Your Quackity. And a bowl of water and a small stack of wash clothes and towels.

Your hands quacked from both worry and the sobs you were desperately holding back. Something was stabbing the interior of your throat as it closed from the overwhelming emotions that filled your body.

What terrified you was that Quackity wasn’t completely unconscious. He definitely wasn’t completely there but he was still awake and babbling. More muttering because of how frail and faint his voice was, but it was still a bunch of nonsense. How you wished to know what he was saying, what he was thinking. Now wasn’t the time, but you feared that if you didn’t know now that he’d never tell you. Shit hit the fan and he came back like this. Either his pride or his desire to “protect” you would keep him from spilling the tea. This was your only chance.

All you were able to do was open your mouth before Quackity was making this harder. He was extremely weak from the blood loss and you were in a race against time to stop the river of blood that just seemed to flow freely from his wounds. You had been holding his bigger wounds tightly, trying to put as much pressure as you could to slow the blood loss or stop it completely. Each attempt to settle Quackity only leads to him resisting more, weakly fighting you to get up. Soon his behavior had gone on for too long, in your humble opinion, and he was still as stubborn as he was in the beginning.

With what little common sense you had left in your nearly hysterical state, you tried to reason with him. “Quackity,” you pleaded, still trying to gently push him back onto the bed so he was laying. “Please lay down, Duckie. It’s for your own good. Just let me bandage you up and I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

From an outsider’s perspective, the attempt was silly. It really wouldn’t have gotten much of a reaction from your confused lover. And yet you still tried anyway, hoping that anything would help at this point. You were desperate.

His silence spoke volumes. In some stroke of luck, Quackity heard your words. That or he became too tired to fight and “speak”. Either way, you were taking what you could get. It was a victory and your goal was reached. Without much, if any fight at all, you managed to get Quackity back into bed and went back to patching up his wounds.

They were much worse than you hoped. Your wish that it was a smaller wound with a ton of blood oozing out was swiftly dashed when you started to clean up the blood from its source. Well, more accurately from anywhere and cleaning until you found the source. Although a bad idea, you had patched up his smaller, easy to access wounds. Though you couldn’t dodge the challenge that stood before you, glaring at you from Quackity’s face.

Petechiae, scratches, and bruises also decorated his face in a hideous manner. The centerpiece of it all was a large scar that traveled from his lip to his eye, all on the left side, was the most obvious wound. The others could heal on their own, but that cut, could you even call it a cut, was in dire need of assistance. It was probably already infected and trying to heal itself. But it was too big, too wide to heal naturally. Intervention was needed and it was needed stat!

Blankly you stare at his face, mind running a mile a minute trying to think of remedies and solutions. Sadly there weren’t many options available. Ponk was too far away to call for his medical expertise, not even considering how late it was. Would he even still be awake? Let alone awake enough to do stitches? You could wait till morning but who knows what condition Quackity would be in at dawn. Something had to be done and it had to be done now. Only one plausible solution remained and it definitely wasn’t pleasant.

Swiftly you leave Quackity, moving out of the room as quickly as you could. Quackity tried to reach out to you but just missed your sleeve. Though you didn’t notice or know. You had things to get done and to get them done you needed equipment. Desperately you search around the house, pulling out anything you’d need. More clean towels, a bowl of clean water since the one you had been using was more than dirtied and the towels absolutely soiled. Placing them half-hazardly on a flat surface, you scurried around to find the other necessary equipment. After having to catch your sewing tin and lighter from falling a few times, you grab everything you previously gathered and make your treacherous journey back to Quackity.

When you return, he’s once again sitting up in bed. Weakly, mind you, as he fell back onto the mattress at the sight of you. You wished to scold him for going against what you asked of him, but it didn’t matter now. With no time to waste, you dump your supplies onto the nightstand and fumble around, trying to get everything prepared.

As nimbly as your shaky hands could spare, you set up your thread and needle as if you were going to start sewing a gorgeous design into a quilt. You stared at the bowl of water you had, debating whether or not to use your sad little lighter to heat up that big ole bowl… it’s better if you didn’t. Other than being faster, how much better would it be for sanitizing the needle? It’d take ages to get the water boiling and even then it might not be enough. A flame straight out of a lighter? Seemed better. It got the job done quicker and would be warmer than the boiling water so it was going to kill more bacteria and germ than the boiling water. That’s what you hoped, at least. This is why you aren’t a medic.

Shakily, you ignite the lighter and hold the needle to the flame, slowly rotating it to equally distribute the heat. As tedious and anxiety inducing as it was, it would be worth it in the end. The stitch is only temporary until you can get Ponk to come over, hopefully by early tomorrow. Or later today? What time even was it- Snap out of it! This isn’t the time to be doing this!

You didn’t know how hot the needle had to be to be considered “sanitized” but you had waited long enough. At least that’s what it felt like. Plus the part of the needle you’re holding is getting pretty hot.

When you go in for the first suture, the hiss of pain before you even punctured the skin was a good indicator to you. Not that he was awake enough to still be actively feeling things, but to be able to vocally express his pain and that the needle was hot enough to probably kill most bacteria and germs if it hurt to touch. Hesitation is making you its bitch, holding you still and making you contemplate if what you’re doing is right. Of course what you’re doing is right. It has to be. It’s one of the best and only options you have.

Before you did anything else, you grabbed one of the towels and rolled it up. Gently you pried his mouth open and placed it in like a gag. He wasn’t going to be able to grip much and he’d be grinding his teeth together from pain. Previous experience with stitches and similar frontier medical procedures has taught you one thing; having a gag to bite on helps every part. The patient gets a way to release their pain and the “doctor” is less likely to be hurt by the patient since the patient will have something else to focus on hurting. It doesn’t work entirely but it’s better than hearing the unmuffled screams of agony and feels better to have something to grip onto as hard as you can.

After getting him situated, you position yourself again. With a deep breath, you start off the first suture. Quackity’s muffled scream was heartbreaking yet shocking. Even with you expecting it, it still spooked you a bit. But everything was okay. This was for the best. And then you continued on. Slowly you added stitch after stitch after stitch until you thought you did enough. Really it was a combination of “this is adequate” and “i’m too anxious to keep going because what if i mess up”. Without anesthetics, it was just horrific for both parties to go through with this endeavor. He was moving around so much, trying to twist and turn away from the pain being done to him. His movements were so often and large enough to make you nervous about going near his eyes. What if you poked it out? Or made him blind?

Looking back at the stitches and what they held together, it was obvious that his eyesight was going to be impaired from now on. His eyes were looking completely different from each other now. The regular on the right and the horrific product of whatever he did on his left. A white film covered his eyes like a snow blanket. He was now blind in that eye or going blind.

Realistically, he was going blind but you still held out for the unrealistic hope that he’d be almost entirely okay afterwards. You knew it was unrealistic, but you still hoped.

You Quackity didn’t deserve this.

Once you have cleaned up the mess you made, you start to pack everything up. Needle in the bowl to be cleaned, remaining threat back into the tin, bowls moved away from where they’d get bumped and dumped. Slowly and methodically you finish your tasks. The adrenaline of the night is slowly leaving your body and exhaustion is once again taking hold of you. Oh how you hated that. Absolutely despised the feeling.

After everything was to your liking, you go to check on Quackity again before you leave to give and get some silent rest for the two of you. It’s the least you could do for him after all of this.

He seemed comfortable after everything, peaceful in fact. It was such a calming sight and it eased your guilt of hurting him. Everything you did was for the greater good, you mentally remind yourself. It was to help prevent further infection and it was only temporary. Until you could get proper help for him.

Without much thought, you sit by the bed and lay your head upon it. So much blood got onto the blankets and the sheets. You’d need to clean that quickly. After Quackity gets help and is moved or can be moved, that is. Which would hopefully be tomorrow. Slowly you start to doze off. Or was it zoning out? Either or you were slowly calming down further. To the point where you almost fell asleep.

Jolting awake, you begrudgingly haul yourself off the floor and start your long and tiring journey to the living room. The couch was comfier than the floor, after all. No matter how much you wanted to sleep by Quackity.

Your dawdling is stopped by something on your sleeve. At first you think your sleeve got caught on something so you tug in hopes of being untangled from said object. Nothing happens so you just tug harder. But still nothing happens. Eventually your little tug of war becomes too annoying and has been prolonged enough. You whirl around to see what in Prime’s name you could be caught on.

Low and behold it was the man of the hour, surprisingly. Quackity had grabbed onto your sleeve and just held you there. Confused, you walk back to the bed and sit, holding his face and inspecting for any new signs of pain. Anything that would show that he was feeling something different, something worse. You hoped that he wasn’t feeling like that, but it was a naive hope. Wounds were not an unfamiliar concept to you and yet you’d always hope for such fantastical things to the point where it was odd.

In return for you holding his face, he went to gently hold yours. A soft smile makes an appearance upon your face after the action.

“How’re you feeling, Ducking,” you whisper. Silence once again makes its presence known and it’s very loud and obnoxious about it. “Sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. That was stupid of me to ask.”

Quackity chuckles at your slip up and you’re more than happy to join him. Slowly your chuckling drowned out by the silence that had obnoxiously told you how wrong you were to ask your beloved if he was in pain when it was more than obvious that he was, indeed, in pain. You take a deep breath and release a sigh.

“You need to sleep. It’ll help with the healing and hopefully with the pain until tomorrow. I plan on calling Ponk to do some actual doctor shit on you because Prime knows how amazing my skills are.” Once again you attempt to leave Quackity to sleep, but stopped by his grip on your sleeve.

“Please,” he rasped. God his voice was so hoarse after everything. You felt terrible as you were part of the cause and yet you couldn’t do anything nor bring yourself to feel too bad. It was all for the greater good, after all. For his health.

“Please what?”

“Please stay with me,” he begged, looking straight into your eyes with his only working one. The sight was pitiful. Such a prideful man who could do so much left in such a weakened state. You hated seeing him like this. Nobody liked seeing their loved ones in a position like that. And how could you deny him that request, especially with what he went through tonight. You still didn’t know what it was but the aftermath was horrific enough to give a small clue as to what happened.

“Of course,” you reply, smiling warmly and climbing into bed with him. The moment you’re under the blankets and sheets, he gently pulls you into a hug. For his or your sake, you’re unsure. You hope that it’s his though. “Anything for my Duckie.”

#dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #dsmp!quackity x reader #dsmp shipping #dsmp!quackity #mcyt shipping #x reader #tw: gore #tw: injury #tw: violence #tw: bruises #tw: injuries #tw: cursing #tw: frontier first aid #c: quackity #dodo writing

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Suburban Dreams [White Picket Fence Part 2] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Suburban Dreams [White Picket Fence Part 2] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Your captor lover surprises you with something you’ve been dreaming about. Are dreams ever as good as you wish they’d be?

For request:

Fic continuation to white picket fence but in the future when darling is "ready"? I wanna see if our yandere is actually gonna stay true to his word

Word Count: 2800ish

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, written in bed this past week while i’ve been dealing with blood pressure issues

You keep your eyes closed and grip Kai's gloved hand firmly. He leads you gingerly along, having told you to keep your eyes closed no matter what. And you listen, you do, because a surprise this big must be truly important. A car ride and a keep-your-eyes-closed surprise all in one day? You feel giddy--and it's almost overwhelming to your senses.

It feels like an occasion, like Christmas, a candy coated ribbon-wrapped Christmas, and you're the child flying down the stairs in the morning to see what gifts Santa left under the tree. But you're not a child, you remind yourself, you're a grown adult with responsibilities. Keeping Kai happy. Making lunches and sometimes dinner, unless Kai says otherwise. Bathing. Keeping yourself occupied while Kai is busy with his work and his goals and his dreams. Ensuring that you're presentable.

"Open them."

You do, practically breathless and--it's... a room. No, not just a room. It's a living room. With an open floor plan. Beyond, you can see a dining room with a kitchen, a real one, with appliances and cabinets and counter space. Not the hot plate and mini fridge you've been (not to brag) doing wonders with over the past year and a half that Kai’s granted you cooking privileges.

You can feel your breath hitching in your chest. It's just... so much. It's so much bigger than anything you've seen in years, actually, you realize; but you don't dwell on this, because you've learned to live in the present. Yet you feel a grin tugging at your lips because you know what this actually means: you're ready, for life and more responsibilities and a future that spans out far beyond those little rooms, office, bedroom, bathroom, clinic.

Kai clears his throat and oh, oops. In your reverie, in your giddy once-over of this glorious space, you practically forgot about Kai. You pivot on your foot, almost running into his arms as you squeeze him tightly in true-blue excitement. He usually likes a warning before you do this (not that you do running hugs often) but you know he'll forgive you, because he's already wrapping his arms around you and giving you a quick, tight squeeze.

You pull back and survey the room again and it's just as wonderful the second time. Your mind seems to run a thousand miles a minute as you imagine the place all filled out, all decorated and pretty and filled with signs of use and maybe--maybe something more.

"Do you like it?"

You turn back to Kai and his expression is concerned and ah, you realize that you're crying. When did that start? You can't remember the last time you cried--well, okay, you absolutely lost it during movie night a few weeks ago, but that was Coco for heaven's sake. You chuckle, and the tears keep coming down, and then you laugh.

Kai stares at you, but his expression has become unreadable. You stop your laughter mid-syllable, because the sight makes your stomach twist. You don't like it when you can't tell how he's feeling, because you've taken it upon yourself to understand every glance and gesture and sigh. You want to lighten his load. He has such stressful days and nights, lately, and isn't it the least you can do to keep him relaxed?

"I'm okay," you say, wiping away your tears with your thumb. You make a mental note to wash your hands as soon as you can. "It's--I love it. It's just overwhelming, I think."

He nods, and sighs--and you do, too. He's okay. You're okay. No, no, actually, you're better than okay because just look at this place! You grin, lopsided and giddy, and hold out your hand. Kai--gloved, thank goodness, you wouldn't want your tear germs to bother him--and you tug playfully. "Let's go see the rest!"

You pull him along the soft carpeting, making a beeline for the open kitchen. It's a nice kitchen, really nice, lots of space to cook. You wonder how Kai will handle seeing flour on the counter tops. You wonder if you still remember how to cook on a real stove without looking up recipes.

You tug on his hand again, but stop for a moment to marvel at the window over the sink; you imagine throwing open those dark, closed curtains to let the daylight in. Flowers would like nice on the windowsill. And in the spring, when it was warm enough to open it up, it would let in such a pretty, warm, scent-filled breeze. The thought propels you forward happily and you continue your exploration.

Little things are big things now, you realize. Would you have ever cared about a linen closet before? Yet the little closer for towels and sheets and who-knows-what-else makes your heart thud. There's a spare bedroom, but Kai's already worked on turning it into an office; there's a desk and some papers and his familiar office chair. The empty room next door is an open possibility, one that Kai suggests filling with your crafts, your scraps, the odds-and-ends of hobbies you've collected over time. It's a good idea.

There's even a staircase, but you don't ascend; Kai says it's two empty bedrooms and a bathroom, you can both check it out after you’ve settled in. You don't say anything, but your heart does a little pitterpatter all the same. Kidskidskidskids.

All the rooms are bare-bones furnished, which is fine for now. You can add your own touches later on--well, as long as Kai approves. But you don't imagine he cares all that much about interior decorating and besides, isn't taking the burden of decorating just what a good partner--you brush a wooden door frame with your knuckle and give them a rap--maybe even fiancé?--would do?

You round the corner to what appears to be a bedroom and glance back at Kai. He hasn't said much, but he doesn't need to: he's looking at you so proudly and it makes your heart flutter. You push open the last door and oh, oh, oh. It's a big, beautiful bedroom--a master bedroom--with a large bed and an attached bathroom and the bed is made for two and the fluttering has dropped from your heart to your stomach and down below. You almost feel bold enough to ask Kai to cuddle right now.

His eyes crinkle and you imagine he’s smiling under the mask. Maybe he’s thinking about that, too. And more.

You turn to leave, ready to explore the last few rooms--dare you hope for a laundry room so you can wash your own clothes?--and make a note to ask Kai for new curtains in the bedroom. Maybe sheer ones to go over the thick, light-blocking ones currently tightly shut together? Those can be shoved aside, opened during the day and some pretty sheer ones will provide a little privacy while letting in the daylight.

But something tugs at you. Something catches up with your eye. The bedroom curtains are shut tight. Just like the curtains in the kitchen. And the office. And the other rooms. Maybe for privacy. After all, you weren’t exactly moved in yet and you can’t imagine Kai wants anyone seeing inside your precious home.

You feel your stomach twist. What if, what if... No, that would be silly. Kai is staring and you give a flat smile. “Sorry, I was just wondering…” thinkthinkthink. “Is there somewhere we can put our books?”

“The living room is big enough for shelves.”

You bite your lip. Should you ask about the curtains…? He can sense you want to say something, you can see it in his eyes, that knowing look that says “(Y/N) is worried.” In a moment he’ll ask about the curtains, of course, and you can express your concerns and he’ll relieve them like he always does.

“Don’t worry,” he says, a chuckling lilt in his voice. Curtains-curtains-curtains. “I’ll have a chair in the office so you can still read with me while I work.”

Ah. Well.

You nod, slightly shaken. If he didn’t ask bout the curtains, okay, clearly there’s nothing wrong. You’re being silly. You’re silly, sometimes, about things like this.

You find yourself daydreaming while you walk, and you have to remind yourself to stay alert for Kai’s sake. You don’t want him to feel like you’re drifting again (even though you are--it’s a habit, one that’s hard to break). You imagine stocking bookshelves in the living room, curling up on a sofa in Kai’s office (old habits, again); organizing your own hobby room so it looks magazine perfect.

You think about making meals on the counter, wiping up oopsie-spills; there is a laundry room and the thought of washing your own clothes for the first time in years makes you forget about little details you don’t like, a meh shade of carpet, more too-dark curtains, a truly outdated wallpaper in the bathroom so ugly that even Kai laughs when you immediately ask if you’re allowed to paint. (You are. Just ask. And you’re wearing protective gear when you do it.)

Your heart thuds when you walk by the staircase again on your way back to the beautiful open kitchen-dining-living room. One day one day one day.

When you make it back into the kitchen, Kai stops you.

“What do you think?” He wants to know your opinion. He doesn't ask your opinion unless he actually wants it, since most of the time he knows what’s best for your needs, so you take this for what it is: an actual invitation to express yourself.

You take a breath and sigh and collect your thoughts before smiling. You’re almost beaming. “I really love it. It’s so…” You look around, as if you can’t believe it still, and part of you can’t. “Big. There’s so many rooms! And things to decorate,” you glance at him, and add, “I mean, if that’s okay. I was just thinking little things. Like the curtains. And decorations.”

Kai chuckles, short and low. “I don’t mind. I would rather you decorate. It’s not my thing.”

You pull on your bottom lip with your teeth because you’re so damn happy and what used to be a nervous gesture is now something you do when you get something you want.

“So,” you say, feeling giddy, words coming out quickly and with little thought, “the open space is so nice and pretty, so I want to get lots of light. I was thinking lighter curtains, well not just here but in the bedroom too.” You gesture towards the dark blue kitchen curtains. “Like these, maybe we can get light.. gauzy white ones, instead?”

“We could even put flowers in this window!” Without stopping, you quickly pace over to the kitchen window; out of the corner of your eye you see Kai start to move, see him look at you funny, but you are too lost in your thoughts of curtains and vases and light that you ignore it and throw open the dark curtains to let in the--

Concrete wall.

And that’s what you feel like. Like you’ve hit a concrete wall. Like someone has punched you in the stomach with concrete. Like you’ve swallowed it and suddenly it’s hard to breathe and things spin out and you hear Kai saying your name through cotton in your ears and it’s dark--

When you come out of your faint, you’re in his arms.

He's saying your name, you think. He's mouthing something and you can't quite hear, there's a steady roar that makes you dizzy and you almost close your eyes to go back to sleep when his hand taps your cheek.

"Wake up. Wake up now, there we are."

Tap tap tap.

The sensation is enough to forcibly drag you out of the clouds, out of the thick air your mind has been resting in. You blink and everything is confusing. What happened?

"You fainted when you opened the curtains," Kai says. And it all comes flooding back, too fast and too painful. The curtains. The window. No, the not-window. The concrete wall. You're not in a house, not a regular one. Are you even above ground? The thought of being underneath the Earth makes you feel heavy and stale and terrified.

"Why..." Your throat is tight and you clear it and lick your lips, then cringe. Kai hates it when you do that. But you're not as concerned about that right now, considering... the window. "Why can't I see outside?" Tell me, don't tell me, tell me, don't tell me. What if the answer is worse than the concrete wall, you think.

Kai's eyes narrow, just a little, and you know you said something silly. But he doesn't sound annoyed when he answers you, which is, at least, something.

"To keep you safe. It's not safe for you to live in some... ordinary house, (Y/N)."

You swallow, your throat hard and thick and prickling with emotion that wants to spring out. "But I want to live in an ordinary house." Your words are tight, practically a whisper. Thoughts of previous conversations spring to mind, promises, whispers, kisses. Where was your white picket fence and dog and neighbors and children and--

"(Y/N)." Ah, you were thinking too long again. Kai doesn't continue until your eyes are clear and you're looking at him. "You fainted when you opened the curtains. Do you really think you're ready to live out there, with the rest of the filthy world?"

It's... offensive. It hurts. You don't like to think about it, but you do hate it when he treats you like you're helpless. Weak. Pathetic. You feel your shoulders tighten defensively. "I can handle living in real house, Kai. You said we could, you said--"

"You get overwhelmed so easily, dearest.” He interrupts you, and you don't have the strength to interrupt him back. "What would happen if we did have neighbors?" I'd ask them over for dinner. "What if they didn't like something you did, and they yelled at you?" I'd uninvite them from our Christmas party. "What if they had some... large, nasty dog who tried to attack you or our children?"

"They wouldn't have--" you say, out loud, finally annoyed enough to spit out an interruption. But his last words freeze your tongue. Children? Our children? Does that mean, does he mean--

"We can--we're going to..." You can't finish, thoughts and images and emotions swirling around making it difficult to focus. Children, family. You and Kai. The king-sized bedroom. The empty upstairs, waiting to be filled.

Kai reaches out and begins to stroke your cheek. "Not... yet. Not until I've made more progress on my work."

You feel yourself instantly shrinking, deflating like a balloon stuck in the corner of a bedroom, forgotten after a party. Tears prick at your eyes and you don’t care if they come down or not. You focus on the feeling of his finger strokes and realize that he's taken off his gloves. Oh. He must have really been worried about you, then. The finger finally tucks itself under your chin and lifts up your sad, sad face.

"Do you think I moved you into a home with empty rooms for no reason?"

You bite your lip--nervous?--and shake your head. "No, Kai." He isn't wasteful like that.

"Do you think I am a good judge of what you can--and can't--handle?"

You nod your head. "Yes, Kai." He is--he is, he is. He's proven that enough. You shouldn't doubt him. What is wrong with you? He gives you a beautiful home, one that considers your needs, and you freak out because of a window not-window. You really are ungrateful, sometimes. You’re glad Kai never says it out loud, because it would hurt too much to hear it from his lips.

He releases your chin and you maintain his gaze, but for once, he is the first one to look away. He takes on an odd expression that you can't place, but it makes you confused rather than nervous. It's new.

"(Y/N)... sometimes, even I doubt my capabilities. Will you be able to handle living here? With this--" he gestures towards the window, but you can't imagine looking at the grey slab in between the cheery white window frame and the dark curtains--"... limitation?" Your heart is hammering in your chest and his voice seems low and slow and imposing. "Should we go back to our old place?"

The feeling of concrete, hard and heavy and unforgiving, returns.

"No!" You reach forward, clasping Kai's ungloved hand with a tight squeeze. Your voice is breathless, shrieky. "I can--I can handle it!" And you look at it now, at the hateful concrete and everything it represents. "It's, it's okay. I can wait for the real house. I can wait. Let's wait."

He says nothing, and your stomach twists, but then he pulls you up to your feet in a quick, strong gesture. He puts his arms around you and squeezes and you sigh in relief. You won't lose your rooms and empty spaces and your staircase with its promises.

"You're my brave little thing, you know that, don't you?" You nod, sheepish now, and smile. Your stomach still has an edge of sourness, an edge of curdle, and you push it down down down where it belongs. You stare at the concrete and think about asking if you can paint it. Anything but grey is fine. Anything. And other things, too, might help it feel less... imposing.

"Kai?"

"Mm?"

“Can we still… get pretty curtains for the window?”

“Of course.”

#yandere overhaul #yandere #yandere x reader #overhaul x reader #yandere chisaki kai #afterwitch writes

473 notes · View notes

script-nef · 4 years

Text

Compensation | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

3k words; Dinner date [5/6]

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The door clicks behind you as you retire into your room after another day of work. Fatigue aches at your bones and the bed is soft underneath as you flop onto it. Investing in a cushiony blanket and mattress is probably one of the best decisions you made in your life. If not the best.

Drifting away into dreamland sounds amazing. If not for All Might.

“A text is here!”

“Toshinori…” Even though your favourite character is Hawks, there’s no way you’re not setting Yagi as your ringtone. Groaning, you blindly reach for the phone while not moving your smushed face. Comfort prioritises over the ability to breathe.

Gojou: Hey! T minus an hour to our reservation! Get ready!

Ah, this. Gojou has made good on his promise to make up for the dinner you missed thanks to his theatrics. Something bubbles in your chest.

Since the beach incident, which ended fine with everyone happy and well-rested, something shifted. In the relationship between you and Gojou. Tensing in the neck, quicker palpitation sometimes. Like the feeling you had when you went on that flight to Shinjuku and also at the beach. Repetition is making it concerning. Maybe a trip to Shouko is overdue.

Gojou: Wear smth nice! Me: ? What? Gojou: They have a policy about ties n dresses or smth. Or we can show up in jeans n see how they react! Me: Let’s not. Gojou: K then! C you in 56 mins ;)

There it is again, the bubbles. Shaking your head to dislodge the feeling, you get ready for dinner.

Joints pop as you rise, lazily gathering towels and clothes. Something nice. If it’s a place with attire regulations, it must be pretty high-class. Or maybe he’s just messing with you to see what you would wear. Better not take any chances.

Thirty minutes and your muscles are much looser thanks to the hot water. The fragrant smell of your shampoo and body wash puts you in a good mood as well. You quickly slip into a dress, a present Gojou got for you some time ago. It’s a soft and flowy one with intricate snowflakes decorating the ends. It became one of your favourites pretty quickly.

Rhythmic knocks on the door alert you of Gojou’s arrival just as you’re done drying your hair. After checking in the mirror to see if everything is fine, you open your room door.

The only thing same about him from his usual self is the hair and smile. His casual outfit is replaced with a black suit, presumably the one he bought weeks ago when he tagged along with you to buy Ken-chan a present. Somehow it looks better on him now than it did before. Probably the antique hallway lighting than the department one, it just gives him a more cozy vibe. The blindfold is gone, replaced by sunglasses. His gorgeous irises are still hidden from your view. He cleans up well.

“M’lady.” Bowing slightly, he stretches his hand out for you to take. You oblige with a giggle. The whole gentleman thing is cute.

“You’re on time for once! No, wait, you’re early!” Time seems to elude Gojou all the time. In the years you’ve known him, he’s never come to a meeting on time, let alone early. Especially ones about him by the higher-ups. There was one time where he didn’t even bother to come but Masamichi-san dragged him by the ear. Unfortunately, there’s no photographic proof which could have been used to mock him with.

“Of course I’ll come on time. Oh, you’re wearing the dress I bought you!” Gentleman vibe goes out the window, him returning to his hyperactive self. It’s still pretty cute. Where the hell is this coming from? There’s a constricting feeling in your throat.

“Oh, you’ve never seen me wear it. It’s one of my favourites now, and I thought you’d like to see it. What do you think?” By now you’re out in the courtyard, illuminated under the moon. Skipping up ahead, you spin a bit, letting the dress flow out. He doesn’t say anything for a while. “Gojou?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Eh?”

“You look… beautiful.”

The softness in his voice catches you off guard. You stop in your track, the clothing falling and resting against your legs. This is a Gojou you haven’t met before, one with such sincerity and tenderness. He steps up, taking one of your hands in his. Something tingles inside your stomach, like fireflies buzzing around and lighting it up with warmth. What’s happening right now?

“I mean it. You’re dazzling.”

Fire burns under your skin, originating from where he’s holding you and threatens to consume your entire body. The flutter in your stomach is nothing compared to this. Time stops. The only thing you can hear is his breathing and your heart beating.

Moonlight cascades over him, showering him in an ethereal glow. Snow white hair shines brilliantly and something seizes at your throat. He slowly lowers his lips to meet with the back of your hand, pressing a light yet somehow heavy kiss.

You're not moving. Not breathing. It feels like you're standing on a sheet-thin glass, a bottomless abyss underneath you. If you move even a centimeter, take even the slightest of breathes, the moment will break and you'll plummet down.

Lungs scream at you to breathe. You can't. Not while he's still holding your hand with such gentle sincerity. Heat travels to every cell in your body and the flicker inside your stomach gets unbearable.

The moment finally ends when his lips detach from your hand. Air slowly returns as he runs his fingers over your knuckles. When he peers down at you, there's just a momentary flash of piercing blue behind his sunglasses that makes your breath hitch.

"Shall we go?"

Shooting you a sweet smile, he doesn't let go of your hand and marches on forward. You barely remember to keep up, brain scrambled and chest exploding.

“This is an exclusive place. How did you get reservations this fast?”

“My stunning good looks!”

“Gojou.”

“Apparently someone cancelled their reservations. Looks and luck. What don’t I have?”

“Humility.

“That cuts me, [Name].”

Stifling laughter, you look out of the window and onto the street. A few weeks ago the view would have been amazing, but now that you’ve experienced flying, nothing measures up to it. There hasn’t been another flight break as you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for one, since he was so busy, but the exhilaration of the trip never quite left your body.

When you turn your attention back to him, there’s a lit candle on the table and Gojou’s resting his head on his hand, staring at you. The intensity can be felt over his sunglasses.

“What’s up with the candlelight?”

“No idea.”

Attempts for small talk are useless. A silence sits in the air. Not the comfortable kind that you normally have with him, working in your office while he takes a nap on the sofa nearby. Or the one when he unceremoniously interrupts a break in the garden by coming up and resting his head on your lap, enjoying a soak in the sun with you. Or when you’re eating in the cafeteria together.

Something is just off here. It might be because of… his act earlier. Just thinking about it is enough to bring the blush back. But no, it's more to do with this place. It's much nicer than your school, expensive chandeliers and tablecloths, the air of refinery that everyone else naturally oozes. But it’s distant, detached. It doesn’t suit you or him. Eventually, you break.

“Why did you bring me here?” The smile disappears off of Gojou’s face and his brow scrunches in confusion.

“I thought girls liked this kind of thing!”

"Well, yeah, it’s exclusive for a reason. But I… don’t feel comfortable here. I’m grateful that you brought me here, and I appreciate all the effort you put into this to secure a place for us. It’s just that this feels way too serious to make up for a missed meal. I feel terrible that you went through all that trouble for me. I’m fine with somewhere more casual and comfortable, not the most expensive place you can take me.”

“You think this is the most expensive place I can take you? I’m wounded.” Gojou grips at his heart but the easy-going smile tells a different story. You give him a tentative smile back, worried he might be offended underneath his smile.

“Unless you want to stay here? I’m fine with that as well, this is completely up to you.”

“Nope, it’s up to you. Wanna head out then?” He holds his hand out again. You take it without a second thought.

“Where is this?”

“My favourite restaurant! They have the best dango for dessert. And of course, the main menus are good as well.” He’s so consistent.

Customers and chefs alike stare at you two when you walk in. Which is expected when Gojou’s dressed in an immaculate designer suit that’s in complete contrast to the humble and cozy interior of the shop. Some avert their gaze when they realise they’re being rude, but you can see them sneaking a peek from the corners of their eyes. You’re not dressed up as Gojou is, but mortification still flushes your cheeks. It gets worse when he guides you over to a table, leading you to a table by hugging you from behind. This never bothered you before so why is it affecting you so much now?

“Here you go.” He pushes a chair back for you to sit in. A server greets you with a smile, handing over the menu then disappears again. “Is this place better?”

It really is. Spices and the smell of broth leak into the eating areas, triggering your taste buds and causing you to salivate. People chatter and yell and cheer, the cacophony of noises filling the place with livelihood unlike the cold silence of the previous restaurant. This is somehow more peaceful. A smile blooms on your face.

“This is perfect.”

The rest of the night is smooth sailing. Gojou knows your taste in food perfectly, expertly recommending which ones to try out. The food is impeccable and the dangos are exquisite, the perfect blend of sweet and chewy. Conversation flows easily once you’re comfortable and blocking out whatever the courtyard thing was.

He's been away for a while due to a sudden influx in curses so it's nice to have some quality time together like this. With your belly full and warmth spreading over your body, you were ready to hit the sack.

That is, if he didn’t offer sake to end the night.

“Hmmm sleepy…” Alcohol doesn’t taste nice. Fuzziness takes over your brain, like thoughts are all mixing with each other and the room is spinning weirdly. Closing your eyes helps. Lights are way still way too bright and it feels like sweat is pouring off you by buckets. Someone’s calling your name but the wall is so nice and cool against your blazing skin.

“Didn’t know you’d be this much of a lightweight. Hey, hey, you with me?” Gojou’s blurry face comes into view when you open your eyes. Giggles escape you for absolutely no reason.

“Gojou!”

“Yes, yes, I’m here. I think you need to stop drinking. Nanami might never let me see you again.”

“Your cheeks are so squishy!” It’s soft and smooth underneath your fingers, like he doesn’t have pores. Maybe you can’t feel pores with fingers but his skin is just that flawless. “Drop your skincare routine, baby skin.”

“You had like three cups, how are you this drunk? I already paid so let’s go back to school. Lift your arms?” You obey obediently and something warm encases you. A familiar and delightful scent assaults your nose. There’s a click, a lot of clicks, like someone’s taking a photo. You can’t be bothered looking to check. “Can you stand?”

“Mm…”

“Guess that’s a no. Keep your eyes closed.”

Your stomach lurches as you’re pulled onto your feet, supported by something under your arms. Cold air rushes onto your face and makes you whine. There’s a call of “thank you” which you reply in your drunken stupor with “I’ll be back!” Laughter comes somewhere from above.

It’s dark enough outside that you can open your eyes again. Everything’s still a bit hazy but you can find your balance now.

“You think you can handle flying?” There’s really no way to tell other than to try it. So you nod.

There’s a blank memory between that decision and the moment you arrive at your doorsteps. Literally nothing. You blinked after making that choice and now you’re standing outside your room door. You would have fallen thanks to disorientation if not for Gojou supporting you by the small of your back.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He stands around while you get ready to sleep, helping you tie your hair and catching you when you lose balance. After washing, you stare at him and he stares right back. The stare-off continues. He finally gets the message when you point at the dress and walks out. It’s a struggle to get out of clothes in an inebriated state but after much wrestling, you manage.

Climbing into the bed, you’re about to actually fall asleep when there’s a knock on the door. Groans answer it because it’s way too far away. The person opposite seems to get the message and comes in. You peek and it’s Gojou with a plastic shopping bag. Sitting down and making himself comfortable on the bed, he ruffles through the bag.

“Hey, you have to drink this. It’ll help tomorrow.” He helps you sit up but pauses for a second. Your eyes flicker open. He’s looking at your body. “Are you still wearing my jacket? After you’ve changed?”

“Yup! Smells nice!” You bury your face in the lapel as if to prove a point. The grip on your arm tightens and he looks down.

“It smells nice?”

“Mhm. It's you. I feel like I'm being protected." He lets go of you, instead choosing to cover his face in his hands. His ears look red. Flicking it looks fun. "Gojou? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Drink the medicine." Even with your messed up, alcohol-ridden tongue, it tastes bad. Attempts at whining and escaping is futile because he's stronger than you. "There you go. Now sleep."

He helps you down this time, brushing your hair with his fingers and cleaning up after himself. It's nice and fluffy inside the covers. Gojou takes your hand again, pressing another kiss on the back of it. Shorter than the last time but the intensity hasn't changed.

"Don't leave." It’s basically a whisper, but Gojou freezes immediately. There's no sound for a while and you can't see what's happening because of your drooping eyelids. Alcohol is great at inducing sleep. A rustling sound and his fingers interlocks with yours.

“You want me to stay? I’d almost say you like me.” His voice is low as well, but still with a teasing lilt, like he's trying to help you fall asleep. So considerate. Always so considerate.

"Maybe." The word trails off into a mumble. Alcohol also gets rid of your filters and the understanding of when to stop talking.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Dunno… You're making me feel weird things…" Digging yourself further into the covers, you try to block out even the faint lamplight. Having none of that, Gojou pulls you out from the blanket cave, ignoring your whines.

"You'll suffocate in there. I'm fine with doing CPR but Nanami might not. What do you mean by 'weird things'?"

"I don't know… There was like… this thing inside my stomach when you did the thing out in the uh… place. My insides felt itchy and weird thanks to you. Take that!" It probably could not have been more easier to catch your fist. "Noooo, you deserve to be hit! You did something to me… That's why I feel so weird when I'm around you. Ever since the beach trip… I sometimes get heart thumps when I see you… It doesn't make sense why I'm feeling this… I don't feel it with other people…"

In an attempt to show how annoyed you are, you try to flail around on the bed but it comes out more as a tiny jiggle. Like a caterpillar. Gojou lets out a chuckle. It sounds like he’s laughing at you. Smacking him comes to mind but you’re comfortable right now so you’ll forgive him. By now you’re just mumbling into the blanket.

"Because like… it's the same. You know? This, this… whatever this is… Like in the movies, the fluffy ones. When the girl falls in love with the guy. They show like the whole thing with like the thingies… The close up, the blush, heartbeat getting quicker in the background… Thump thump, yeah? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Silence is his answer. You know he's still there because his hand is still connected to yours.

Sleep addles your mind. There's a whole lot of words popping up, like "Gojou" and "dinner" and "date" for some reason. But it's too late and everything is shutting down. Softly, slowly, you sink into slumber.

"Gojou?" Still nothing. "Hmmm you're asleep as well, huh? That's fine, that's good. You do so much to save everyone, you deserve a break. Like a hero… So brave, so selfless… Really stupid as well, so immature… Hn, maybe I do like you…"

"Say that again?" Oh, he's back. And he's gently shaking your hand, trying to keep you awake. But your consciousness is slipping away and soon everything turns into a pleasant hum.

The last thing you feel is something soft pressing against your forehead.

Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

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alaskasmonsters · 4 years

Text

No Strings to Hold us Down | Takami Keigo

(spoilers for chapter 299 ahead!)

requested by @waffleareniceandfluffy: can I request a hawks x reader where yk how ehe in the car with best jeanist faked his death all that yeah and he says he’s free of his shackles can you do where they’re both free and they discuss his backstory (reader is childhood friend she knows about his abuse) and can you include any other thing chapter 299 with him as like can u make it hella angsty but with a little fluff and definitely a fluff ending.

part two

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

w.c: 4.269

warnings: spoilers for ch. 299, some amount of angst (with happy ending), mentions of neglectful parents

a.n: so this took me a hot minute and i’m so sorry you had to wait for so long! it’s also like 4 k words and i don’t know how or when that happened i-... i hope it’s angsty enough and i hope you like it! please enjoy :) <3

The silence hung thickly in the air of the freshly washed car, weighing heavily on you. A glance to the side told you that Keigo was still asleep, head propped up against the window.

He’d fallen asleep as soon as you’d taken off from the hospital, the only sign he was still alive was the even lifting and lowering of his chest.

You knew he was fine, Keigo was the most stubborn person you knew and as long as he hadn’t given up yet, there was nothing that could keep him from going on. Still, there was this little voice at the back of your head, barely an itch, that urged you to make sure just once more, if he was still alive, still breathing, still going.

He’d taken a lot of damage during his battle with Dabi. The villain hadn’t held back, hadn’t even hesitated when he’d burned his wings off, almost ruining the cells in his shoulder blades they were sprouting from beyond fixing, before he had moved on to his face and neck, leaving nasty burn marks behind wherever his hands had reached.

You remembered when you had stormed into his room, ignoring everyone who told you to take care of your own injured first, to take it slow, saying Keigo needed rest now, and you had first laid eyes on his battered form. The bandages covering his body, the absence of his wings, the peaceful look on his burned face as he was still sleeping soundly.

For a moment, a never ending moment, you had thought he was dead. You wouldn’t have known what to do then, when Keigo had actually left you behind, all alone in a big cold world, a world even colder without his silly jokes and genuine smiles. It had been awful, that feeling of dread, heavy and suffocating, that had taken a grip on your throat and squeezed.

Then the beeping of the vital signs monitor had reached your eyes, barely audible through the ringing of your ears and the loud beating of your eyes and you’d been able to breathe again.

Since then you hadn’t left Keigo’s side, even denied Best Jeanists help when he’d suggested to accompany the two of you. He’d wanted to drive, since you were still heavily injured, but you’d denied.

It felt too personal, visiting the house of Keigo’s mother, a woman you’d only met once before but had heard too many stories about, to not be by Keigo’s side when he had to face her after years of separation.

Luckily, Best Jeanist had realized this and instead agreed to meet you back at the hospital later, leaving Keigo and you alone on your ride to your destination.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw your friend’s body stirring, straightening out of his hunched over position, his eyes blinking open tiredly before he seemed to recognize where he was.

“I’m sorry. I fell asleep,” the robotic voice of the translation app he was using, chimed through the car.

Another reminder of how close Dabi had gotten to him, you thought.

You glanced at him, your eyes falling on the muzzle he was wearing that prevented him from using his voice.

You smiled at him, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel as you stopped at a red light.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re alright.”

You seemed to repeat yourself around him a lot since he’d woken up. “It’s okay.”, “I’m glad you’re alright.”, “How are you feeling?”. At this point you felt like a broken record. If he noticed, Keigo didn’t mention it.

“I’m glad that everything with Best Jeanist went smooth,” the voice chimed back.

You remembered when Keigo told you about it. The plan involved Best Jeanist. Before he’d even asked the man himself about it. He probably hadn’t been allowed, the commission usually forbade any exchange of important information between the two of you, but Keigo never cared.

He had always told you anything, it’s been like that since forever.

The rest of the 40 minute ride was endured in silence. Keigo was looking out of the window, eyes unfocused, and you tried to focus your attention back on the street. The concerned voice was pushed to the back again.

You arrived soon after, parking the car in an empty spot and exiting the vehicle together with Keigo. The mansion at the end of the street caught your eyes immediately and you were once again impressed how much money the commission was willing to spend to keep their little pet obedient.

“Is that it?” you asked, covering your eyes against the blinding winter sun.

“Inside that house,” Keigo assured, passing you without giving you a second glance.

You let out a sigh, sensing his nervousness, maybe even fear to see his mother again. Locking the car, you followed after him, stomach churning with something you could only identify as dread.

When you arrived at the door Keigo rummaged around in his pockets before he pulled out a key card. He hesitated, grip tight around the little piece of plastic, before turning to you and typing a few words into his translation app.

“Before I fully recover and show my face again...you know there is something I need to be sure of.”

Maybe he felt like he had to explain himself, as if you didn’t already know exactly why he came all the way here to see his mom again after he hadn’t even bothered to keep in touch with her the last few years. His eyes were searching your face, hand on the handle and you gave him a soft nod.

“I know,” you replied quietly.

He opened the door wide and you entered the house.

It looked just as spacey and clean as the outside let suspect. The interior was beautifully put together, the furniture was expensive looking and excessive. It looked all very tidy and you knew that the way everything was decorated has probably been the work of interior designers.

Something about the fact that the place reminded you strangely of where Keigo was living stuck with you. His apartment was just as clean, just as nicely decorated by the hands of strangers, just as well put together.

How ironic.

The similarity of it. Mother and son both separated and still connected through the hands of the commission, the organisation the woman sold her son to.

It made you feel sick, no matter how much Keigo acted like it didn’t bother him, it just seemed to anger you twice as much.

How these people working for the Hero Public Safety Commission managed to make it appear all nice and clean from the outside, sweeping all the unpleasant details under the rug. They made Keigo the perfect hero, paid off his mother and ensured their comfort, ensured your comfort to him. Only to have the man in their debt.

The commission loved how close you and Keigo were, if only to use your friendship against you and use it to their advantage. Although it had only been him they had taken in, fixed up and trained for years, you were just as much controlled by them as he was. Due to your friendship.

They didn’t think of you as talented or as perfect as him. Hawks was charming, impressive, loved by the public, the number two hero! You weren’t even in the Top Twenty, your quirk wasn’t as flashy as most of Japan’s Top Heroes’ and you weren’t as loved by the public either.

You were only useful to them when it came to the dirty work, keeping Keigo in line that was (and you hated it hated it hated it), being the one responsible when he had to get punished after a mistake he made because it was on you when you didn’t pay enough attention, wasn’t it?

And only because the two of you had been childhood friends. Because you knew Keigo better than anybody else in this world, even himself. Keigo did have no issue sacrificing himself, burning himself out in the process if that meant he did a good job. You were the one who had to ensure he was at peak performance at all times.

Of course, being the commission, they had also used their sources (you didn’t believe it was Keigo who had told them, he would have never done as much) to uncover your awful past and find out about your family home just to use those things against you. As leverage. As if Keigo’s safety and wellbeing wasn’t motivation enough.

Your past was filled with pain and regrets.

Your mom, who’d left you with your dad after you were born and your dad who’d turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain.

The man had neglected everything. His health, his job, his life...you. So it had been your responsibility to keep the both of you afloat. You had started shoplifting when you were merely old enough to tell the difference between left and right. Everything you’d stolen, you’d taken to keep your dad and you alive.

The commission knew about this and liked to use it against you. It didn’t matter that you’d only been a child, old enough to know better for sure but too young to see any other possibilities for your hopeless situation.

You had met Keigo back then, too, when you’d been 7 and he’d been 8, after you had stolen from a small shop and accidentally caused havoc when you were caught and ran away, causing two cars to crash into each other when you’d crossed the street without looking, which forced one of them to swerve the other way so it wouldn’t hit you.

Keigo had found you hiding behind a group of trash cans in an alleyway crying, saying his feathers had tingled and that’s how he knew something had happened in the city. He had wanted you to return what you’ve stolen but when you had told him in tears about your situation and begged him not to tell anyone he had taken pity on you. Making a promise to not snitch on you if you were being more careful.

That’s how you’d become friends.

Although he’d gotten in trouble for leaving his house, beaten and screamed at by his paranoid piece of garbage of a father, who believed he’d tried to rat him out or something...That didn’t stop Keigo from seeing you again.

You would both sneak out in the middle of the night to see each other, meeting in forests and on playgrounds all around the town. He’d share food with you or bring you little things he’d managed to sneak from his dad’s newest gig.

Since that day in the dirty alleyway, Keigo had never stopped taking care of you. The both of you felt connected through your abusive fathers and (in Keigo's case emotionally) absent mothers. You both had scars you'd rather hide with everyone but never each other and you both felt lost, unable to be yourself in a home you didn't belong in.

You had realized, even at your young age, that you could never let him leave because you’d never find a person like him ever again.

So when the commission got involved, when they took him away, isolated him from his old environment, which involved you as well, your heart broke.

Although Keigo, sweet caring Keigo (who now had to go by Hawks. Commission’s orders.) still never entirely left you. He’d asked the commission for one more favor beside taking care of his mother and him. They had to ensure your safety, get you away from your father and into a better household.

You were the very first person he’s saved and although he tried to downplay it you knew he was proud of the fact that it held him together on days he didn’t feel much like a hero.

These days, it was rather often...

The house remained silent, the calls of the robotic voice for Keigo’s mother echoing through the big room.

No answer followed.

You looked around the room, noticing that what you had called clean before was really just the absence of everything that was supposed to tell someone that this mansion was inhabited. No dirty dishes, no books or newspapers lying around, not even a glass of water on the sink.

“Do you think she left overnight?” you asked, strolling around.

Keigo didn’t answer your question so you turned around to see him standing with his back to you, something clutched into his hand. Curious of what he had found you stepped up from behind him to look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of what looked like a letter addressed to Keigo.

From his mother.

“Did Dabi use people for this...? How did he even get this far...?”

You hummed softly, reaching up to grasp his shoulder tightly. Keigo had already suspected that it must have been his mother to tell Dabi or people Dabi sent about his real name and family background. Still you knew there was a little part of him that had hoped this not to be true.

Now, though, with the letter that his mom left behind in her abandoned home, there was no doubt about it.

His shoulders sacked and his body hunched over as he let out a deep sigh, barely audible through the muzzle.

“Guess it really was my mother that leaked it then,” for some reason even the robotic voice sounded heartbroken about the fact.

You reached up to card your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, or rather the part that wasn’t covered by bandages.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you mumbled lowly.

He leaned into your touch and let out another deep sigh, the tiredness that had been edged into his features ever since he had woken up in the hospital bed seemed even more prominent now under the cold lights of the living room.

“When the name “Takami” had been taken from me, the relationship between my mother and i had finally disappeared. I had always thought i was fine with that,” he explained, the robotic voice breaking the silence again.

“What i thought of as being saved was just me turning my back on everything. Even on you, y/n.”

You looked up in surprise at his words, staring at the back of his bandaged head with furrowed brows.

“You’ve never turned your back on me, Keigo,” you assured him, giving his shoulder another squeeze.

How he could even think that he’d ever done as much was beyond confusing to you.

Keigo reached to put his hand on your hand, the skin warm against yours and the touch comforting. He tightened his grip ever so slightly.

“Yes I did,” the speech assistant continued, “After we’ve met again a few years back, I’ve run from you, kept my distance, because you represented what i wanted to be but couldn’t.”

After we met again a few years back.

You’d seen him in the news one day, when you were still training in hero school, and recognized him immediately as your childhood friend, even after all the years you’d been separated.

The huge red wings were a distinct tell.

You had run out of the Starbucks, leaving behind your freshly ordered drink to where you’d heard the incident had occurred. Out of breath and disheveled from all the running you’d gotten there just in time to reunite with Keigo for the first time in years.

Since then you’d never left him out of your sight again, too scared you’d end up losing him again.

Hearing Keigo say that he’d tried the complete opposite, keeping a distance to you because of what you’d represented, something he wanted to be but couldn’t...what did that even mean?

“A guy who helps people...”

Your hand felt cold when Keigo dropped his own again, letting it hang off to his side.

“That’s the only thing that’s returned. Actually it’s refreshing,” he continued.

The air around you felt heavy, suffocating, just like earlier in the car, just like when you’d stepped into his hospital room. Although now the reason for it was a completely different one.

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

“The commission is currently at a stand still, y/n, in total dysfunction.”

You swallowed thickly at the reminder. The commission, the one thing haunting the both of you whenever you were with each other, the organization holding Keigo in an iron clasp and ensuring his obedience with your help...since the Jaku Hospital Raid, since Dabi exposed Endeavor and Hawks, the number 1 and number 2 heroes of Japan, they’d been silent.

Scarily so.

“There is no one to give me orders anymore. And they won’t be able to control you anymore either. I won’t let them.”

You took a step back away from the man when you noticed how violently he smashed the screen, his shoulders tense and the recovering wings under his jacket bulking.

“Keigo...” you tried weakly.

“They won’t get to abuse your kindness anymore, have you chained to me..”

You didn’t have to see the look in his face to know what emotion was displayed on it, neither did you have to hear his voice.

Your heart dropped at the words, at the bitterness he so desperately wanted to put into them but couldn’t because of his injured throat.

“Keigo,” you repeated, this time with more insistence.

“I know why you did it. You wanted to return the favor. I saved you, you save me,” the electronic voice sounded awfully smug all out of the sudden.

Your stomach twisted, a horrible hot sensation built in your chest and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from saying the first thing to come to mind.

Which would have been an insult.

You clenched your fists, pinned them to your side as you stared at Keigo’s back, your face twisted into an ugly expression.

“No, fuck that,” you spit, “how dare you?”

His face came into view when he turned half to look at you over his shoulder, eyebrows lifted in surprise at your outbreak.

You snarled, unable to contain the hurt as tears started to build behind your eyes.

You’d always been an emotional crier and you really hated it.

“It’s not about a favor. Don’t say shit like that.”

Hawks cocked his head, eyeing you for a moment before he fully turned towards you. His posture was more relaxed than before but there was a question behind his eyes.

He lowered his glance only to type in the next words...

“What? You care about me so much, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“You know i do, stupid bird brain,” you said, still angry.

How could he even believe for a second that you endured the commission’s whining and yammering out of guilt. How could he not know how much you cared for him after all the years you’d been by his side now, after all the times you’d been there for him.

Keigo grasped your wrist, stopping your frantic wiping to push them away and make place for his own hands, thumbs softly brushing the wetness from your cheeks.

He found your eyes, his own wrinkling at the edges.

“No chains left,” the phone chimed.

You watched in anticipation as Keigo reached behind him, hands moving to his neck, and removed loosened the clasp, pulling the muzzle off.

Now you could see the smile, too.

“To shackle us down,” he told you with a hoarse voice.

“Kei,” you scolded him, looking down at the muzzle between his fingers.

You took a step towards him, closing the distance between you. Then you reached forward to gently run your fingers down his throat. The fabric of the bandages was rough against your fingers.

Hopefully he hadn’t started talking too soon.

“Y/n.”

You looked up at him and caught his eyes that were staring down at you with a determination you’d seen directed at you so often before, but couldn’t deny they had still the same effect on you as if it were the first time. Making your head all dizzy, that was.

“When we’re driven into corners, we find liberation. That’s when a true person’s nature rears its head. That’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy,” he explained, gripping your wandering fingers into his hand, holding them close.

“At heart, he was desperate to be a help to others. I also want to be like that.”

You smiled up at him, squeezing his skin between yours.

“You’re already like that, Kei. You’ve always taken care of me, haven’t you?” you teased, hoping to ease the tension between the two of you a little.

“I think it was more the other way around, y/n.”

“I don’t-“

“Without you...i would have never known what it is like to have someone care for you. To have someone by your side no matter what. To understand...i think i would have never understood what it meant to love.”

You froze, staring up at Keigo with wide eyes. He tightened his grip around your hand, feeling that you wanted to draw back, instead keeping you close, thumb softly stroking the back of your hand as a way of calming you down.

“I think i love my mother, but that’s more out of obligation than anything,” he explained, searching your eyes but you couldn’t tell what he was looking for, “I never feel like i have to be anything than me when i’m with you. Nothing about being with you feels forced, or like it’s an obligation. It’s just...us.”

The room was spinning suddenly as you felt something cold wash over you. Your chest tightened, your heart daring jump out with every harsh beat against your ribcage.

He couldn’t be saying what he was saying...right?

He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that.

“Keigo...are you saying you love me? As in...in love with me?” you wanted to laugh, just a little, to lighten the mood, but it got stuck in your throat on its way out.

Unlike you the man in front of you looked calm, not at all deterred by your panicked state.

“Yeah, I do. I think I have for a while now, but i didn’t fully realize until recently.”

Still gripping your hand in his left one he raised the other to your face, gently cupping your cheek. You leaned into the touch instinctively.

A faint smile tugged at his lips at your action.

“It’s alright if you don’t return my feelings, but I think you do.”

You frowned in thought.

You’ve never thought of the man in front of you as anything else than just Keigo, the kind hearted boy whom you met in a dirty alleyway, the one that brought a little girl food and presents every now and then. The teenager who wrote letters once in a while to keep you up-to-date. The man who you spend your free days with, eating chicken and watching movies.

You meant it when you’d said you wouldn’t leave his side, not if you had any say in the matter. Now, you weren’t entirely sure what you meant with that.

Stay with him? Forever?

Maybe Keigo was right.

He was always able to read you better than anybody else, just like you were the one to know him best as well. That’s also why he noticed your inner turmoil just by looking at your screwed up face.

“May i kiss you?”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest as your heart fluttered in your ribcage.

“Yeah.”

His lips were warm against yours, the touch soft and delicate. Like he was testing the waters, giving you the opportunity to pull away if you wanted to.

The feeling was foreign to you. You had kissed other people before, quick pecks, sloppy kisses, passionate making out...But this, this felt different to all of them.

He kissed you gently, carefully, holding you with a delicacy you weren’t used to.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees suddenly grew weak, hand reaching out to curl around the back of Keigo’s head, urging him even closer.

He pulled you in, accepting the closeness happily as he deepened the kiss. The taste of toothpaste invaded your mouth.

Your mind went blank, the only coherent thought you were able to grasp was that you were making out with Keigo...in his mom’s house.

How ironic.

Your lips tingled when the two of you parted again, the aftertaste of peppermint lingering on your tongue. The warmth in your chest had spread to your face and you weren’t sure if you were blushing out of embarrassment or glowing because wow...that was something.

Keigo was staring down at you with an undefinable look in his eyes, but he looked happy, content like this and it made something in your chest flutter softly.

You did that.

“I-“ you started but the wide grin spreading on your face against your will, growing despite your attempts to suppress it with a bite to your tongue, made your voice die with a squeak.

The man chuckled, the outline of his wings moving under the fabric of his jacket and the thought of Keigo ruffling his wings joyfully in response to your obvious happiness...you wanted to kiss him silly.

“I think i love you, too, Keigo.”

He might have been the happiest bird man in the whole entire world when you said those words and for a moment...just one small moment, you really felt like the two of you could be free.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac

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kingofkingdom-archive · 4 years

Text

1979

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (Read part 2 HERE)

Rating: T (Teen) - part 2 will be E

Summary: The year is 1979. You need a ride to anywhere that’s far away from where you are. When a handsome stranger in a rustbucket pickup gives you that ride, neither of you could predict any of the events that follow.

Warnings: Smoking (and lots of it), mild violence (a punch is thrown), brief harassment of reader, food, mention of a gun (one is encountered but not used), mention of homelessness, brief mention/description of war (Vietnam), child abandonment, mention of abusive/dangerous father figure, passing mention of serial killers, vague description of non-specific events leading up to reader resorting to hitchhiking, very meta mention of a certain beloved space opera

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: Whew! This one has been in the shop for a LONG while. Originally I meant for this to be a single work, but I’ve hit a bit of a slump with the last bit. I decided to post this to see how y’all feel about it! The second part will be much longer :) Also: I know there has been some discourse recently about Din’s characterization in certain fics, so I hope this does him justice for you! I’m always open to comments, and like I said I’m very interested in hearing what you think! As per usual, no use of Y/N and please heed the tags/warnings.

8:47

You lean against the streetlight, glancing down at your watch and then back up to the motel across the street. You told yourself you'd wait until 8:30 and then you'd go back and reserve a room for another night. As you watch the second hand wind its way around the small, plain face of your 2-dollar timepiece, you've convinced yourself that maybe staying out until 9 is the ticket.

Your ticket, out of this shithole town.

The summer air is hot and thick around you. It's especially unbearable both between your legs and at the band of your bra, the elastic stretched around your middle doing its best to make you feel as sweaty and uncomfortable as possible. At least you're wearing your cutoffs, giving your legs the chance to breathe. You've also got a loose tank on, which flutters in the sticky wind as cars pass you by.

8:51

Your thumb has been stuck out for passerby to see for the past three days. No one has picked you up. You suppose you should be more wary of taking lifts from complete strangers with all the murder and kidnapping that's been in the news recently, but you're more than a little headstrong with a dash of stupid to go along. That's what your mother always told you, anyway.

Some Cadillac speeds past you, blaring what you think is a Donna Summer song, and you watch as the music and taillights fade into the night.

You shouldn't be surprised, you figure, as the minutes continue to tick on by. There's a gas shortage, you reason with yourself as you bend down to pick up your bag, thumb still stuck out, elbow resting on your waist. People don't do this anymore. Afraid of getting picked up by a pervert or a killer. Afraid of picking one up, and then a streetlight just like the one you're under is the last thing they see.

8:58

You sigh, ready to head in for the night. Marvin, dude who sits at the motel's front desk, is sure to give you shit about it again.

You're preparing to cross the street when you hear the low growl of a pickup truck approach. Not looking to get creamed by some fuckin' rusted-out GMC, you step back onto the curb where you'd been posted.

Except the truck slows up, and the window rolls down as it crawls to a stop in front of you.

Your heart races. Finally.

You walk up to the passenger side window and look in, expecting some fat old putz looking to get some tail in exchange for a ride.

That's not what you see.

"Need a lift, young lady?"

The truck's driver is older than you, sure, but you were wrong about pretty much everything else. He's got short dark hair and a 'stache, with some stubble across his chin. He's wearing a leather jacket over a plain gray tee, with a pair of sunglasses hung on the collar. One hand is on the wheel while the other is laid across the back of the bench seat, a cigarette perched in between his first two fingers.

You lean forward on your tiptoes as best you can, forearms resting on the door's open window. Pretending to survey the interior, you look around and take the opportunity to check the man out. God, you think. I wouldn't mind giving him whatever he wants in exchange for this ride. Maybe another kinda ride. Ha!

"As it turns out, I do. You offering?"

You rest your chin on your arms and give him the sweetest smile you can muster. The man eyes you up and takes a drag from his cigarette. You watch with rapt attention as he inhales deeply and then exhales the smoke out through his nose.

This guy's got you all hot and bothered and you haven't even gotten in the truck.

He gestures with his hand. "Come on, kid. I gotta make the state line by midnight."

You definitely like the sound of that. Eager and supremely stoked to finally have a way out of this dump, you pull on the handle, jump in, and swing the door closed behind you. Your backpack finds its place between your feet, and the stranger starts driving again as you pull your seatbelt across your shoulders.

"Where're you headed?" the man asks, glancing over to you and then looking back at the road. The asphalt seems to stretch into infinity, flanked by trees and fields and the occasional watering hole.

"Away from here," you chuckle as you fidget with your fingers. Black nail polish decorates your trimmed nails. It's chipped and uneven in some spots; you never were great at painting your nails, especially your right hand.

"I got that," the man drawls, voice deep and smooth like honey. "Any particular destination in mind?"

You shrug. To be honest, you hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. Your first and only priority was a way out, and anything after that was a problem to be handled when it came to it.

"Nope. Just as far as you're willing to take me."

The guy nods and takes a drag. The smell of cigarettes never bothered you like it does some other people; you find it relaxing, calming, especially when it's fresh and all-consuming like it is in this guy's truck. The vehicle itself is old, maybe 10 or 15 years, and a glance into the bed behind you tells you he's traveling with a couple boxes and nothing more.

It's certainly not state-of-the-art, but that's all the better for staying under the radar.

The silence looms over you like a cloud. The stranger seems content to just listen to the engine and the tires on the road, but you're prone to fill silences unprompted.

"What's your name?" you ask, and look over at him. He glances at you and raises a brow.

He clears his throat, eyes moving back to the road. "You can call me Mando."

"Mando?" you retort before you can stop yourself. "What kinda bogus name is that? Like, what... you got a thing for mandolins or some shit?"

The man huffs. "It is what is, kid. Get used to it."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Alright, alright... Mando."

He doesn't try to continue the conversation, so you don't either. Minutes pass, and then hours, and you find yourself drifting off not too long after the clock reads 10:00. You shake yourself awake, wanting to stave off sleep until he pulls over to rest for the night.

But the engine is like a lullaby, the soft swaying of the truck a gentle rocking motion, and your eyes fall closed despite your best efforts.

When you wake up again, the truck is no longer moving, and the clock reads 12:30.

You must have been woken up by Mando putting the truck into park. The darkness outside does not give any clues as to where you are, but as your eyes adjust you can just make out some picnic tables, garbage cans, and signs.

A rest area. Makes sense.

Mando is fumbling with something beside you. It's a map, you realize when you look over.

"Where are we?" you ask with a yawn.

"Just over the border. Made it a bit later than I would've liked, but that's not a big deal. You can sleep here in the cab. I'll take the bed, since I sleep there anyway."

You nod, though you find it odd the way he's... not asking you for anything. He hasn't mentioned payment, monetary or otherwise. You watch as he folds the map back up, and catch his gaze as he stashes it in the glove box.

"I gotta repay you somehow, mister," you mutter. "For how nice you're bein' to me. 'Specially since I made fun of your name and all."

At your words, Mando gives you a stern look from under one of his furrowed brows. "No, you don't. Blanket's under the seat. Get some rest."

He turns away, grabs the keys, and is out the door before you can reply.

It's just so unusual for a guy to pick up a girl like you and refuse payment, much less not ask for or take it outright. It's a shame, really. Any other guy, you'd give him what he wanted sure, but with less than enthusiastic participation. The one man to whom you'd gladly deliver anything he asked... and he seems not to want it.

You suppose you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Better a prude than a murderer, that's for sure.

As you reach under the seat for the blanket, your hand brushes against some sort of canvas bag, long and zippered. You lean over to look in at it upside-down, hair brushing against the dusty floor mats.

It's a rifle bag. You reach in to feel at where the barrel would be, and sure enough, there's something distinctly rifle-shaped inside.

Huh. It's not a surprise that a guy like him's traveling armed, but it makes you wonder. A hunter, maybe? Probably. There's a lot of those around.

You spot the blanket and pull it out. It's gray, scratchy wool, but as you pull it over yourself, you find it keeps the nighttime chill away quite well.

You wake up to Mando swatting at your feet.

"Time to get up, sunshine. Gotta get going."

His deep voice pierces through the fog of sleep still hanging thick over your mind. You groan and push yourself up onto your elbows, drawing your feet in to give him space to slide into the drivers' seat.

It's still dark out. You see a hint of light on the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise peeking over hills and fields.

"What time is it?" you ask, rubbing at your eyes. You're a chronic over-sleeper, so seeing the sunrise is a rarity. It seems Mando has no such problem.

"A bit after six. We'll stop at a diner for something to eat in about an hour. You're welcome to go back to sleep until then." He turns the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life, a blast of lukewarm air hitting you in the face.

"No, no. I'm up," you assure him, shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. As you fold it, you look over at the man beside you. He's wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket as yesterday, but the shirt underneath has changed. The sunglasses are still hung on the collar, but now it's some faded band tee from like 8 years ago.

You set the folded-up blanket on the seat between you and him, watching as he puts the truck into drive and starts off. Before you know it, you're watching the early-morning world pass by outside your window. You kick off your sandals and tuck your feet up under yourself, sitting crosslegged on the seat.

About 15 minutes later, you've grown tired of watching farmhouses and cornfields fly by in the dark.

"So, uh..." you start, not really knowing where you intend to finish your sentence, "you like music?"

Stupid. That was stupid.

Mando chuckles. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" you reply, hopeful that he might have more to say.

"Yes. I do like music."

You roll your eyes. "What kind of music? Jazz? Opera? Country-western? Who's your favorite artist? Got any favorite records?"

He glances over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Well, I figure if I'm gonna be traveling with you for a good while, I might as well know a bit about you. And vice versa."

Mando just hums.

"I'll tell you mine, then," you inform him, grinning widely now. "My favorite record right now is Parallel Lines. By Blondie, you know? I really like them. This time last year I woulda told you my favorite album was something by Wire or the Sex Pistols - I was real into punk, if you know anything about it. Now I'm more into poppy stuff. I just think it's fun, to be honest."

You continue to ramble to Mando well into the drive. The sky grows lighter and the road grows more crowded, but he does not stop you. At the end of a tangent about Bowie, you turn to look at him, and he's sitting there like you haven't just talked his ear off for the past twenty minutes.

"Sorry. I jus-"

"Don't apologize. It's... I don't mind," he interrupts, not taking his eyes off the road.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, looking at the sandal-shaped marks on the tops of your feet. "Don't you have any particular songs you like?"

Mando's quiet for a minute. You wait, looking up out the window. The sky is a pale pink and blue, with a hint of orange off to the east. A field of cows comes up on your left - your eyes track them as they pass by, wondering what it's like to pet one.

You bet they're soft. Soft and cuddly and so dumb they're cute.

"You have to promise not to laugh."

The words come as a surprise. You look over to Mando, eyes wide and interested.

"Never. Favorite music is sacred."

He sighs. His grip tightens on the wheel, like sharing even a small part of himself causes him distress.

"Tapestry. Carole King," he says, though the words are quiet and guarded.

That wasn't the answer you were expecting. "Really?" you ask, smiling brightly.

He just nods, though he spares a glance towards you, like he's gauging your reaction. You lean back against the seat, turning towards him more fully.

"I wouldn't have guessed. Color me surprised, Mando. You have good taste." It's true. The album's a classic, though more so with girls your age, not guys who pick up hitchhikers and keep rifles in their trucks. "What do you like about it?"

Mando shifts, bringing his left arm up to rest on the door, elbow propped so his head can rest on his hand. "Not sure. She writes a good song, that's all I know."

You're not satisfied with that answer. You'll get to know Mando, even if it's like pulling teeth. "Bull-shit. Pink Floyd writes a good song. Paul Simon writes a good song. Why her? Why that record? It came out like ten years ago, there's gotta be a reason - a real reason - you still like it."

The drone of the engine and the road is like a soundtrack in itself to the silences that loom heavy before every sentence he speaks. You wonder when the last time he really got to talk to someone was - talk like this, not small conversation with the waiter or grocer.

You're no psychiatrist, but it doesn't take a genius to spot someone who's been alone for a while.

Mando hums. "I guess I relate to her songs... in a way I didn't expect to when I first heard her music."

You smile at that, pleased as punch that he trusts you with that information. It's like cupping cool water in your hands on a hot summer's day, fleeting and precious. "What's your favorite song on the record?"

He turns his gaze to your for a moment, dark brown eyes staring at your dirty feet and day-old shirt and messy hair. You're not sure what exactly he sees as he takes you in, but you sit there and allow it regardless.

Mando looks back to the road, watching the small town approaching slowly on the horizon. "I Feel the Earth Move."

You nod. "A classic."

He just hums in response, and you expect the truck to fill with silence once again.

Except it doesn't.

Mando reaches out and presses the button to turn on the radio. Blondie's Heart of Glass flows out through the speakers - and you laugh.

The glowing neon sign advertising Lindy's Diner, with her promise of pancakes and eggs and bacon and coffee, gets you more excited than you care to admit. Mando pulls into a parking spot along the street, and you're out the door before the wheels have stopped turning.

Admittedly, you do also have to pee.

You rush into the diner to take care of your business, also using the provided sinks to brush your teeth and the mirror to comb through your hair with your fingers.

It's not much, but you do feel better. Hopefully tonight you can stay in a motel at least, maybe take a shower.

You exit the restroom and look around the diner. Mando's sitting in a booth, smoking a cigarette and looking out the window. You head over, tossing your backpack into your side first and sliding in after it.

"I'll be right back," he says, and leaves. You watch him walk over to the men's restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Whatever. Kinda rude. Not like you care, anyway.

You lean back in the booth and take a menu from the stand at the end of the table. The classic breakfast platter is looking particularly tempting, with its hash browns and bacon and eggs-however-you-like. You're contemplating scrambled versus over-easy when you hear a pair of footsteps walk up to your table.

Two strange men stand over you, looking at you like they know exactly how homeless you really are.

"You here alone, baby?" the shorter one asks, putting a grimy hand on the back of your booth, right behind your head. You open your mouth to say no, in fact, I am not, but the other guy speaks for you.

"It looks like you are, honey. Just our luck, a girl like you all on her -"

"Is there a problem?"

Mando's deep voice cuts through whatever it was the creep was planning to say. The low timbre of his voice, normally soft and kind, is uniquely dark - almost menacing - when it hides a threat.

You slowly cross your legs, hoping no one notices the movement under the table.

The two guys turn, and behind them you see Mando, looking extremely pissed. He puts a hand on the back of the taller man's neck, cig still perched between his fingers, and yanks him away from where he'd been standing in front of Mando's side of the booth.

"Jesus, man! We didn't know you were -"

Mando puts his hands on his hips, eyeing them up like a lion might size up its prey. "What? You didn't know what?"

The guy gulps. "Uh..."

"Come on," Mando taunts, something dark glinting in his eyes. "Don't get nervous on me, now."

"We didn't know you were with her, man. Sorry."

Mando shakes his head. "No. Don't say that to me. Say it to her." He nods hid head towards you, subtly positioning his body in between yours and theirs.

You're frozen in your seat, torn between fear and arousal.

The tall guy glances at you. "Sorry," he mutters. The shorter one's still looking at you funny, though.

Your companion jerks his head towards the door. "It's best you both leave, now."

You realize the diner's gone quiet, customers and employees alike watching the exchange with bated breath. The taller guy glances around and turns, heading straight for the door. His buddy hesitates, gaze shifting from Mando to you and back again. Eventually he also turns to leave, following the other one out.

Mando slides into his seat, though he won't quite meet your gaze when you look at him. Noise picks up in the diner once again and you let out a shaky breath.

You're about to say something when the two guys pass by the window. The shorter one peers in, works his jaw, and spits on the ground on the other side of the window from you. You see him mouth the word 'bitch!'.

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Mando to try and joke about it, attempting to brush off the uncomfortable encounter. But he's not there, and you realize belatedly that he's now storming outside.

Mouth agape, you watch as Mando stalks up to the short guy. Jesus, you think, if looks could kill...

The creep whirls around, throwing a fist at Mando before he even gets a good look at him. Mando dodges it easily with a step back, looking simultaneously murderous and annoyed. He winds his arm back and sends his fist flying at the creep's face. The guy stumbles and falls, clutching at what is now a bloody and broken nose, landing on his back on the sidewalk. His friend has long run off.

Mando puts a boot on the guy's sternum, pressing down so he can't get up no matter how much he struggles.

You see him lean down, elbow on his knee, and say something. The guy's eyes widen and he nods frantically. Mando then removes his foot and, without sparing the guy a second glance, re-enters the diner.

He slides into the booth again and takes the menu from you. There's blood on the knuckles of his right hand, but he makes no move to wipe it off. He flips through the pages as if nothing happened. You stare at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you mutter, voice soft and wavering.

Without looking from the menu, he responds. "Yes, I did."

"But, you coulda just... just let him go..."

"I could have," he replies, and turns a page. "But I didn't."

"But -"

For the first time since you both entered the diner, he looks up at you, and you're taken aback the intensity of his eyes. "He deserved worse, kid. Far worse."

He sounds so sure of it that you can't bring yourself to say otherwise. You sigh and clasp your hands together on the table, unsure of where to go from here.

Just then, the waitress comes up to your table, notepad and pen in hand.

"You two know what ya want?" she asks as Mando puts the menu back in its place.

He gestures for you to go first.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the classic platter with scrambled eggs and white toast. And black coffee, please."

The woman nods, writing your order on her pad. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the blueberry flapjacks, please. And coffee, black, for me as well."

The waitress nods and turns away. As you watch her push through the silver kitchen door, you realize that maybe you should be grateful for the way things went. That they didn't get uglier.

That Mando was there at all.

"Thank you," you say softly, doing your best to convey your sincerity to the man sitting across from you.

He simply nods, observing you with a look you can't quite place.

After breakfast, the two of you set off down the highway again. Fleetwood Mac flows out through the speakers and you don't expect to stop until after noon, when Mando will have to refuel (both the truck and your stomachs). Until then you kick off your shoes and put your feet up on the dash, window cracked about an inch so the summer wind can flow through your hair.

Despite the rocky start to the morning, the hours pass by easily, weightlessly. Sometimes you talk with Mando, other times you simply sit and watch the world pass by. You don't think you've ever seen this much land in one go, and it thrills you. The idea that there's so much more.

The topics vary from your time in school to movies to the truck. You're surprised to find out that Mando's never seen Star Wars, a fact nearly unheard of to you. You promise yourself that you'll make him watch it sometime, somehow.

Lunch passes without incident; you insist on paying for your ham and cheese sandwich, because Mando had covered breakfast before you could protest. It hits the spot, along with your ice-cold Coke from the little market's freezer. There's a line to get gas, as there is everywhere, but luckily it isn't too long, since you're in the middle of nowhere. Mando won't be able to fill the truck up again for a few days, meaning you'll have to stop for the night earlier tonight than you did yesterday.

You do find something interesting at the market and you decide to shell out the money for it because it intrigues you. A new style of Kodamatic camera, complete with a pack of instant film - 12 potential photos.

In your mind you see pictures of mountains, and the truck, and Mando, and you stuff the camera in your bag before your mind can wander any further down that road.

You have to admit - traveling with someone who you know can protect you if the need arises is comforting in a way that almost makes you nervous. You keep telling yourself not to get used to it, that this is just a temporary situation for as long as he sees fit to keep you around. After he decides he's had enough, he'll leave you, and you'll be on your own again. You can't get too dependent on him.

Nighttime arrives much too quickly. The sun has just dipped below the horizon when you drive into another small town, not much more than a stoplight and a few bars. You get lucky, though, because the unmistakable neon of a motel glows just ahead.

"Thank god," you groan as Mando pulls into the parking lot. "I need a shower so goddamned bad."

Mando chuckles. His arm rests with his hand out the window, flicking the ash at the end of his cigarette out onto the pavement. The orange glow at the end of it brightens as he takes a drag, and you tear your eyes away from his lips before he can catch you staring.

That's another problem. He's every inch as attractive to you now as he was before, except now you know he's nice. The mustache and the dark curls and the broad expanse of his chest are all only made hotter by the knowledge that he likes Carole King and Elton John (he knew all the words to Tiny Dancer) and blueberry pancakes.

Plus there was that whole punching a guy to defend your honor business.

The guy at the motel's front desk reminds you of Marvin. Greasy blond hair and acne on a kid not much younger than you. You give him a disgusted look when he eyes you up, but he cuts it out when Mando walks in behind you. It gives you a small sense of satisfaction to see him so meek before your companion.

"We need a double for the night," Mando drawls, counting cash on the counter, cig perched between his lips. The sign advertised a night's stay for $22. You'd tried to pay Mando your share, but he'd refused your money.

The kid shakes his head. "Only got singles available."

Mando raises his brows. "Really."

The kid, whose name is Matt according to his name tag, nods. It takes Mando a moment to think on it, and then he looks to you.

You shrug. "I'm fine with it if you are, Mando."

He nods once and pays for the room. 12. You take the key and head over to get a head start on your shower while Mando parks the truck and gets his stuff.

The hot water feels divine. Even the towel feels great, because as threadbare and shitty as it is, it's clean and warm from sitting under the vent. You finish up in the bathroom and emerge in a pair of old track shorts and a loose-fitting tee.

Mando's sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. His jacket's draped across the table and he's kicked off his boots, so he sits with the remote in hand, barefoot. It's the most casual you've seen him thus far, and it makes your heart race.

"Shower's all yours," you tell him.

Mando looks at you from the corner of his eye. It's hard to tell what he's thinking at any given moment, so you fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you.

A thought blooms unbidden in your chest. I wish I could kiss him.

You blink, taken aback at the sudden, intense nature of your desire to feel his lips against your own. Not knowing what else to do, you cross your arms and turn to the TV. Bonanza is on.

"Seen this episode before?" you ask. It's an old show, but you still like it.

Mando nods, humming. "Used to watch these every week, right when they came out. Only the first few seasons, though."

"Why'd you stop?"

He turns to sit on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the ground. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes hide something pained.

"I got drafted."

Oh. "Oh. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," he says and gets up, brushing past you to enter the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

You walk over to sit on the other side of the bed from where he was. Drafted. Jesus. You feel bad for bringing it up, even if it was unintentional. The TV plays though you aren't watching, mind wandering to thoughts of Mando in Vietnam. You picture him in the jungle or in a helicopter, the deafening noise of artillery and gunfire filling the air around him.

Maybe that's where he got the nickname. It certainly explains the rifle.

You reach over for the remote and shut off the TV. The clock on the wall reads about 8:00, still early for you, but you tuck yourself under the sheets and blanket regardless. You face the door, away from where Mando will sleep.

Just as you're drifting off, the lamp on the bedside table clicks off. You feel the weight of Mando crawling in beside you, and he too curls up on his side, back turned.

You fall asleep hoping he's not too upset with you.

The next thing you know, you're awake, though the world is still dark outside. Behind you, Mando snores softly, warm breath fanning out across your neck.

Wait.

You blink a few times and realize the two of you must have shifted in the night. Mando's body is pressed right against yours, chest to your back, arm draped over your middle and hand tucked under your chin. Your legs are intertwined and against the back of your thigh you feel -

You feel him.

Sleep is a powerful drug, however, and the realization is not enough to make you move. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you think maybe this isn't so bad. Your tired brain convinces you to revel in it, to enjoy this position you've found yourself in. Before you can second guess that reasoning, you drift off.

And then you're awake again.

This time it's thanks to a rush of cold wind in your face. You reach back to feel for Mando, but the warm pillow tells you he's not there. You open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway, looking down at something. It's still dark out, but the lights of the motel parking lot put him in silhouette before you.

"What is it?" You lean up on your elbow to get a better look. The nighttime air is cool on your face, smelling faintly of gasoline and rain.

He bends down and picks up whatever it is that's in front of him. You watch as he turns to look left, then right, seemingly in search of something. He turns around and you see what he's holding.

It's a baby's carrycot.

You immediately sit up, heart racing. "Is it -?" you whisper.

Mando nods, closing the door behind him. You get out of bed and rush over to stand next to him, peering into the carrier.

Sure enough, there's a baby asleep inside. It looks to be a boy, about a year old. You bring a hand up to your mouth.

"Why - who would - what?"

Mando shakes his head, staring at the little guy. "I don't know. I heard a knock at the door and there he was - no sign of anyone else."

"We should - what do we do, Mando?"

He brings the carrier over to rest on the table beside his jacket. The boy is out cold - his little hands grip the blue knitted blanket and his mouth is just barely open. He's got dark hair, wispy and soft atop his head. As you observe the sleeping child, you notice the corner of a small piece of paper tucked in between the blanket and the cradle. You reach out and grasp it between your thumb and forefinger, unfolding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Mando whispers. Your voices are low so as to not disturb the child.

"Grogu. Please take him far from here," you read, and feel your blood run cold as the note goes on. "Not safe in this area. His father is dangerous."

It's scrawled in blue ink on half a sheet of lined notebook paper, the fringe from being torn still attached. Your hands shake as it hits you - there's some mother out there so scared for her son that she left him in the care of strangers. That there's a man out there who legitimately threatens this boy's life.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, rage and sadness simmering in your chest.

"We have to, Mando." Your words are shaky but certain. The man beside you rests a hand on the carrycot, still looking at the sleeping child within.

You turn your eyes to him. He nods, solemn.

"Let's let him rest. We'll leave in the morning, get as far west as we can. Might even be able to make Texas if we leave early enough. We can figure it out from there."

His other hand brushes against your back, and then he's drawing you into his chest. The embrace is soft, unhurried, and you lean your head against his shoulder, hands tucked against his chest. Letting your eyes slip closed, you think back on the previous day, how you never could have predicted this turn of events. How you've never felt so uncertain of things, even when you'd lost everything.

Together you return to bed, but neither of you gets much sleep.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #fanfic #din djarin fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x fem!reader #female reader #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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girl-in-the-tower · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER I

Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue

Kore: Woah, to think the ghosts would go all out like this just for today! Even though I told them that they didn't have to bother with it, they wouldn't listen, at all... It's... It's kind of embarrassing to be fussed over like this! If it was Grim I would have understood but this, uh...

Ah! And I'm supposed to have a guest over today as well! Hm, I guess some tea should be in order... maybe some cakes as well... I wonder if there's any sugar left...

Ace: Yo!

Kore: Ah, just a moment- Oh, it's just you, Ace.

Ace: Ha? What's that supposed to mean? 'It's just you'? It's super rude to greet your dear guest like this, you know?

Kore: Is that so? But calling you a guest is...

Ace: What's that?

Kore: Hm...

Ace: Well, doesn't matter because my feelings were hurt either way! So I'll help myself to this krumkake to make myself feel better! Let's dig in~

Kore: Hey, that- Aaah, that was meant to be for Grim. He kept complaining all day yesterday that he should have a cake all to himself too since it's a special day so I woke up extra early just to make it for him. Now he's gonna be mad...

Ace: Haa? A whole cake just for that furball? You've got to be kidding me!

Kore: What are you talking about? You know how much he likes krumkake.

Ace: Nah, I doubt there's really anything that guy won't eat... But that's not the point. You're spoiling him too much. He's gotten really fat, you know?

Kore: It's fine. I still make sure he exercises and he looks cute round like that too, so it's not a problem.

Ace: No, I definitely still think there's something wrong here. Mainly with your head.

Kore: Haaaaaaa, you wanna pick a figh-

Ace: Oh, I almost forgot! Here you go!

Kore: ... What's this?

Ace: Isn't it obvious?

Kore: Well... Huh? Wait a minute- That can't-!

Ace: Ta-da! It's a limited edition Griffons varsity jacket that's been all the rage with Magift meatheads like you~

Kore: No way!! This is- This is-

Ace: Cool, righ- Hey!! Don't jump on me like that! You almost knocked me off the chair!

Kore: Sorry, hahaha! I was so happy I just couldn't contain myself! To think that I would be able to actually get my hands onto something so valuable!

Ace: Yeah, we figured you'd like i-

Kore: This season has really been a blessing from above for them, you know? Everybody is in top shape and playing at their best! I heard their new manager actually made them go through this super difficult training regime that has been working wonders for them. Though it's only speculation so far!

Ace: Uh, Kor-

Kore: If you ask me, it's definitely also thanks to those new brooms that they ordered for the team. The wood is apparently from the Valley of Thorns and super-resistant so they go all out without worrying about breaking them. For the moves that the team is pulling, they really need that propulsion time! Even a second helps when you're in a headlock. I remember back in the vs Mandrakes game that they switched brooms in between-

Ace: Heeeeey! You Magift boar woman! Can you hear me?

Kore: Wh-Why are you yelling like that?! I'm right next to you!

Ace: Haaaa, when you start talking about Magift you might as well be in a completely different world... No wonder they all think of you as the Magift Encyclopedia. I bet you have hundreds of useless pieces of information like that stuck in your head.

Kore: You-! Huh? What's this?

Ace: A-Ah! That!

Kore: It's rice pudding- Ah! It's homemade from the Mountains!

Ace: Hm? Ah, ye-yeah... That came with the jacket...

Kore: Eh? They put pudding in jackets when they sell them?!

Ace: O-Obviously! Don't tell me you didn't know? Bwahaha, man, you sure are clueless...

Kore: ... It's my favourite flavour too...

CHAPTER II

Ace: Alright, next to the first question!

Kore: Eh?! Question?! Is this a quiz of some kind?!

Ace: I guess you could think of it like that, so anyway- Your first question as today's birthday girl issssss: "If you were stuck on a deserted island, who would you take with you?" Hm, here it says that you can't pick members of your own dorm, but given that you guys don't even have a dorm, I'm not sure that the restriction applies. Not that it matters since you wouldn't choose Grim anyway, right?

Kore: Huh? Why not?

Ace: You're serious?! You'd pick that furball?! Hey, we're talking about a deserted island here so think carefully! Don't you want to get off it?!

Kore: Well, obviously I would... But...

Ace: But?

Kore: I can do that on my own.

Ace: Huh?

Kore: Survival is all about securing shelter, food and formulating an escape plan. If it's a deserted island I assume there would be some fauna and animals too, so we could feed ourselves through fruit gathering and hunting. It might be hard if we don't have any tools, however, but I think Grim's claws would be sharp enough to cut through the skin and meat fairly easily. I make sure he takes good care of them after all.

Ace: I-I see...

Kore: If there's no drinkable water then we'll have to boil some from the sea in order to deal with the thirst. Grim's flames, when properly utilized, would be able to do such a thing. Not to mention that he could start fires to keep us warm at night and to cook food to sustain us! Also, it could be a great emergency signal if we end up at sea and need rescuing.

Ace: You want to use him as a flare?!

Kore: That sounds so mean! I would only do that as a last resort, however! Grim's pretty sensitive about having his belly scratched so I wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable like that!

Ace: Haaaa, I get it, I get it! So you're saying that the furball has his practical uses too. But I can't help but worry about some flaws...

Kore: Flaws?

Ace: No matter how much you feed that glutton, his stomach will never be full, you know! Whatever provisions you managed to gather, he's sure to inhale them with the first occasion!

Kore: Wah- That's a horrible thing to say! There's no way my Grim is so selfish!

Ace: My Grim?! What is he?! Your child?! And he's totally selfish, you know!!

Kore: HAAAAA?! ARE YOU REALLY PICKING A FIGHT WITH ME?!

Ace: Ca-Calm down!! I take it back, ok?! You can bring the furball with you!

Kore: Hmph.

Ace: Seriously, getting this angry over that cat...

Kore: Isn't that normal? Grim is my special person, after all!

Ace: SPECIAL PERSON?!

Kore: The person you care for a lot, like they're part of you, right? Like Cay-senpai said!

Ace: I-I see, so that's...

Kore: Being on a deserted island isn't ideal, but at the end of the day I know I can be ok on my own. Farmwork, housework - those are things that I'm used to from the Mountains. Life isn't so easy back home, but we all make do with what we can - magic or no magic. Even if I'm stuck in a bad situation, I can manage to get through so I don't need anybody else.

Well, that's what I thought before I came to this place anyway...

Ace: ...

Kore: Besides you're wrong about something!

Ace: Huh?

Kore: In order to survive it's not just physical attributes that are important, but mental ones as well. And in that case, Grim has the real trump card!

Ace: He-He does?!

Kore: Mm! You see, Grim, he... has the cutest paws and the fluffiest fur in the world!

Ace: HUH?!

Kore: Mm! Every time I feel like giving up or am reaching the end of the rope, all I'd have to do is give his paw pads a little squeeze or lay on his tummy and my mood would instantly clear up again! In a situation full of despair like that it would make a world of difference, you know?

Ace: SO HE'S THERE JUST FOR MORAL SUPPORT?!

Kore: Well, that too! It's important after all!

Ah, this pudding is really good actually...

CHAPTER III

Ace: Haaaa, I give up... Your boar mind is way too difficult to understand...

Kore: HUH?!

Ace: Anyway, let's get on with our next question and- Ah.

Kore: Hm? What is it? You suddenly stopped in the middle of the sentence. Did the falcon get your tongue, hehe?

Ace: It's a cat, not a falcon! And I only stopped because- uh...

Kore: What?

Ace: "You're offered the chance to pick another dorm, which one would you choose?"

Kore: ...

Ace: I swear, that Headmaster doesn't even think of these questions at all...

Kore: Yeah, there's no way I can answer that...

Ace: I figured. So instead! "Please share your opinions on the dorms!"

Kore: Ah!

Ace: Nice, right? You can definitely count on me when it comes to quick thinking, you know?

Kore: ... I guess.

Ace: You guess?!

Kore: I'll start with Diasomnia then!

Ace: Hey, don't ignore-

Kore: Hm, I'm not really sure about the atmosphere there but- Don't you think that their interior decor is pretty fancy? I haven't seen stuff like that in magazines for quite a while, so I feel like it's definitely something that must have required a lot of work! It's kinda dreary though, what will the windows not letting enough light and the greenery around it could stand to be looked after better, hm...

Ace: So you're only interested in the decor, huh? Alright, what about Ignihyde?

Kore: It's too technological.

Ace: Huh, I guess that you're right. For somebody like you, it would really be a struggle living there...

Kore: ...

It's even more depressing than Diasomnia, so I feel like I would be stuck in a bad mood without enough sunlight, you know? Though I must admit, it really is super clean inside! That's a very important detail! Clean homes are necessary for good health!

Ace: There you go again, sounding like a mom... Next is Pomefiore!

Kore: IT'S SUPER FLASHY!

Ace: I know~?

Kore: No, no, you don't get it! It's so flashy it actually scares me! All that pomp and glamour! The rugs themselves look like something from the fall collection that sold out about twenty years ago and the chandeliers are bound to be at least four times Theo's salary! Walking through those hallways is like stepping on opulence! A continuous loop of flashiness!

Ace: HEY! Get a hold of yourself! Let's go over to- Ah, Scarabia...

Kore: It's so hot there!!

Ace: Oh, yeah, you're super weak to heat so you'd definitely hate it there. Right?

Kore: Mm, hate is... I think that if it was the old me, I would never have even stepped in there. But now I feel like... Yeah! I definitely think that I can give it another try! Scarabia is pretty rich too, but it feels more homely? There's a lot of people gathered around and there are banquets and feasts pretty often too. It's always lively and warm... In a way, I imagine that's what a home would feel like...

Ace: ...

Kore: I can't say the same for Octavinelle however. Hmph!

Ace: Bwahaha, that's true. It really feels like you'd get scammed in there pretty quick.

Kore: Not even that! But building a dorm underwater? I admit the decor is pretty nice and classy, but the atmosphere is too cold! There's a lot of types that I can't get along with at all so it would definitely be a miserable time for me. No, I definitely don't want to set foot there ever again!

Ace: I totally get it~ All that commotion after the exams was enough for me too. Guess the same goes for Savanaclaw too, then?

Kore: ...

Ace: HA?!

Kore: I-I refuse to believe that anybody who loves Magift is a bad person!

Ace: There's that meathead in you talking again! Are you seriously that obsessed with it?! I feel like there's a sickness that applies in this case!!

Kore: He-Hey!! That's way too- I understand that what they did was bad, and I definitely haven't forgiven Kingscholar-senpai yet, but there are definitely good points to them as well! I think!

Ace: So you're not even sure?!

Kore: A-Anyway, as for Heartslaybyul-

Ace: Don't go changing the subject!

Kore: - if I had to pick that would be my favourite.

Ace: Huh?

Kore: I love Scarabia too, a lot, but at the end of the day all that rich atmosphere is scary. I really don't feel like I would belong there at all. I'd stick out like a sore thumb among everybody else - more than usual at the very least. But in Heartslaybyul, even if Rosehearts-senpai is strict, I feel like everybody is sort of content with the oddness. There's not much that stands out about it, but I think that's what makes it so appealing, you know?

Ace: ... So... what you're saying... Is that we're a shabby dorm full of weirdoes?

Kore: I-I wouldn't go that far...

Ace: But that's the gist of it, isn't it?!

Kore: Ummmmm...

Ace: ... Alright, I get it.

Kore: Huh?

Ace: You know, it just so happens that there's one more thing I have to tell you about.

Kore: One more thing?

Ace: Yup! You see, there's this tradition where the presenter has to give the 'gift of fortune' in order to make sure this ends up being a great birthday! And it just so happens that you're lucky enough to have me here today to deliver the goods~

Kore: Huh? What are you-

[SPLATTER]

Kore: ...

Ace: BWAHAHA, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST STOOD THERE LIKE THAT!

Kore: ...

Ace: Oh man, the look on your face is hilarious! Oh, let me take a quick picture to show the others too!

Kore: ...

Ace: Ok, so then- He-Hey! Don't- AUGH! MY FOREHEAD!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #kore hightower #twist oc #twist #twisute oc #twisute #ace trappola #heartslaybyul #birthday event

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

fine line - p.p

chapter 5

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

Peter found you in the kitchen the next morning, smiling shyly you as he stood in the door. Unsure of how to interact after the night before, he kept his distance as to not overwhelm you. You nodded towards the empty seat next to you, and a relieved smile appeared on Peters face as he grabbed a cereal bowl and joined you at the table. You silently pushed the milk towards him, feeling your face heat up when his fingertips brushed yours.

“Thanks.” Peter said as he poured the milk into his bowl.

“You’re welcome.” You kept your eyes down, focused on your cereal as you raked your brain for something better to say.

“So, am I like your girlfriend now or-“

“I would like that very much.” Peter said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment at how desperate he sounded. You laughed at his eagerness, feeling inclined to lean in and kiss him right there at the kitchen table. He happily kissed you back as soon as he was able to stop smiling. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, already enjoying this version of your relationship with him.

“I like you so much.” Peter mumbled, peering at your through his eyelashes.

“I like you too.” You giggled, still finding it funny to hear those words from your own mouth.

“Well, this is quite a turn of events.” Tony commented as he entered the room, making you and Peter jump apart.

“We were just-“ Peter began.

“Save it, skip. FRIDAY logged you going into my daughters room last night but never logged you going out. My guess was you snapped and killed each other or finally kissed and made up. I’m assuming it’s the latter, no?” Tony raised his eyebrows, asking a question he already knew the answer to.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Peter apologized. “All we did was talk and sleep. It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t need details.” Tony stuck out his tongue and gagged. “Just try not to break my daughters heart, yeah spiderling? Mark 45 is getting a bit rusty and would be more than happy to take you out.”

“I won’t, Mr. Stark.” Peter said confidently

“Good. Because if it came down to you or her, I’d pick my princess every time. No offense.” Tony waved his hand dismissively as a surprised smile crossed your face.

“Really?” You wondered after his recent actions implies the opposite.

“Oh, absolutely.” Tony said like it was obvious. “Peters great and all, but nobody compares to you. You are a Stark, after all. That means you’re predestined to be better than the rest.”

“Thanks, Daddy. It’s nice to hear that.” You grinned, his words meaning more to you than he knew.

“Don’t get too excited. You’ll be less happy to hear that we have to head to Florida tonight to check out some psychedelic weapons being sold. Should be a drag but that’s what we’re here for.” Tony pulled at his collar and grimaced.

“We?” You asked hesitantly. “As in me too?”

“Well Romeo here is great and all, stupendous really, but I’ve missed you by my side.” Tony said causally. “And also you don’t make the whole jet smell like axe body spray and Proactive.”

“It’s Clean and Clear, sir.” Peter corrected your father, retreating when Tony shot him a look.

“Well, you should pack. We leave after dinner. Plenty of time to say goodbye to lover boy.” Tony shrugged, making you and Peter flush. “Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that. See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You nodded eagerly as Peter squeezed your hand under the table.

Tony winked and knocked the table twice before exiting the kitchen.

“Did you say something to him?” You looked curiously at Peter once your dad was out of earshot. “It’s been over a month since he’s taken me on a mission. And I’m pretty sure I’m the least qualified person in this tower to recovery illegal weapons.”

“Would you be mad if I did?” Peter asked, scrunching his face nervously. You looked at Peter fondly before grabbing his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you rested your forehead against his once again. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“You were worth waiting for.” Peter smiled softly as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “I still want you to clean up your cereal bowls though.”

“I’ll think about it.” You giggled, moving your spoon around in your cereal. “As long as you promise not to dip your fingers in my brownie batter.”

“Gross.” A voice came from in front of you, startling you and Peter. You looked up and saw Drax with a bowl of cereal in hand, staring directly at you and Peter.

“Drax?” You shrieked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting the city. I always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a child.” He deadpanned before slowly raising his spoon to his mouth.

“How long have you been there?” Peter stared at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t know.” Drax thought. “When did Iron Man come in?”

“A few minutes ago.” You shrugged, still staring at him in confusion.

“Long before that.” Drax concluded, making you and Peter look at each other.

“Oh my God.” You groaned.

“Could you give us a few minutes?” Peter asked with a fake smile.

“Okay.” Drax nodded and walked out of the room.

“So as I was-

“How many?” Drax popped back in and interrupted Peter.

“What?” Peter asked, growing annoyed.

“How many minutes do you need?” Drax wondered.

“A lot.” Peter stated through gritted teeth.

“All of them, if we’re honest.” You mumbled.

“Okay. Bye guys.” Drax waved and left the room again.

“Bye.” Peter grunted, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “Where were we? I forget.”

“I could try and remind you.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him. Right before your lips could touch, the doorbell rang. You hung your head in disappointment and sighed.

“Oh my God. What now?” You whined.

“I’ll get it. Stay here.” Peter rubbed your arm comfortingly and made his way to the door. Peter opened the door to find a clean cut brunette in a crisp button down.

“Hey.” The boy smiled. “FRIDAY let me up.”

“Oh, okay.” Peter nodded. “And you are?”

“Harry Osborn.” The boy said, making Peters heart stop. “You’re Peter right? Y/n has told me a thing or two about you. Is she here?”

“In the bathroom.” Peter fibbed. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

“We cut our date short last night so I thought I’d surprise her.” Harry replied.

“How nice. She’s gonna be really really surprised.” Peter began to sweat, not knowing how to deal with his new girlfriends almost boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’m gonna ask her to be my girlfriend today.” Harry announced, making Peters heart stop. “I’ve waited too long, you know? And hot billionaires don’t fall into your lap everyday.”

“I don’t…” Peter trailed off, looking over his shoulder at you in the kitchen. You gave him a friendly wave, and he waved back before turning to Harry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why?” Harry sized Peter up, unhappy with his answer.

“Well, she came home really upset last night.” Peter began, which was partially true. “I don’t think she wants to see you anymore.”

“What?” Harry laughed in disbelief. “Did she tell you that?”

“Yeah. She told me.” Peter folded him arms, standing his ground.

“Why would she tell you that?” Harry cocked his head. “She hates you.”

“She doesn’t hate me.” Peter snapped, his jaw locking.

“Hate to break it to you, Dude, but she does. You’re all she talks about. Hang on, fantasy football.” Harry held up a finger as he checked his phone, putting it away after seemingly reading something he liked. “Anyway, she said you were the worst thing that ever happened to her.”

“Well that’s not what she thought last night.” The words left Peters mouth before he could think them through, but he didn’t mind the look it left on Harry’s face. Peter smirked as Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You two...”

“Yeah, we’re together.” Peter shrugged with his arms still folded. “Looks like you waited too long.”

“Wow. I guess there really is a fine line between love and hate.” Harry laughed bitterly, as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, she and I have built a permanent residence on that line.” Peter told him. “Sorry about it.”

“Alright. I better go then.” Hardy said coldly, burning holes in Peter with his eyes.

“Thanks for stopping by.” Peter smiled widely as he shut the door. He returned to you in the kitchen, guilt building up in the back of his mind.

“Who was that?” You asked from the kitchen sink as you rinsed your bowl. Peter smiled at you listening to what he asked you to do, but it quickly faded.

“Uhh, Mailman.” He lied to you, adverting his eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“Really? Why did he come to this floor?” You chuckled curiously as you put your bowl in the dishwasher. “He usually leaves it in the mailbox in the lobby.”

“Oh well he wanted to see the main floor.” Peter said weakly. “Can’t blame him, the interior decoration is really something to behold.”

“You’re acting funny. Do you feel okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows, pressing the back of your hand to Peters forehead to check his temperature.

“I’m fine. Just happy to be with you.” Peter shrugged as he held your hands in his, his conscience getting the better of him by the minute. You noticed the sweat building on his forehead and slowly let go of his hands.

“Peter, where’s the mail?”

“The what?” Peter wondered before he remembered. “Oh, there was none.”

“Who was at the door, Peter?” You asked suspiciously, your face hardening as you broke through his web of lies.

“Harry. But I got rid of him!” Peter said quickly when your face showed signs of anger.

“Got rid of him how?” You demanded.

“I told him we were together.” Peter said timidly, weary of how you’d react.

“What?” You exclaimed. “Peter!”

“Whats wrong? We are together.” He reminded you, getting the feeling you wanted to hide that fact.

“That doesn’t mean he needed to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to find out like this.” You crossed your arms. “That’s not fair to him. Do you know how heart broken I’d be if he did that to me?”

“You said the date was lame. And you have a boyfriend now, so who cares?” Peter shrugged dismissively, growing frustrated over you caring about Harry’s feelings.

“I do, Peter.” You raised your voice. “Yeah the date was lame but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be blown off. He’s a person with feelings. He deserved to hear it from me.”

“Apparently he’s heard a lot of things from you.” Peter matched your anger. “Like how much you hate me, for instance.”

“What are you talking about?” You shook your head in confusion.

“You told him I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Is that true? That’s how you feel?” Peters voice wavered between angry and upset as his eyes desperately searched your face for answers.

“I used to feel like that, but not anymore.” You retorted. “You know how I feel about you now.”

“Do I? Because you seem awfully concerned over hurting Harry’s feelings. Do you still like him?” Peter demanded answers, a mixture of insecurity and jealousy eating away at him.

“No.” You shouted. “I just don’t want to hurt him.“

“You had no problem hurting me when I first moved in.” Peter said coldly.

“And I apologized for that. God, you’re so jealous.” You spat, rolling your eyes at Peter and turning away. He gripped your arm to make you face him again, not enough to hurt you but enough to keep you in place.

“I wouldn’t have to be jealous if you weren’t so indecisive.” He seethed.

“I did decide.” You stepped you to him. “I chose you. But you had no right to send Harry away like that and lie to me about it.”

“Like how you lied about hating me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how it felt to hear him say that?”

“It’s a figure of speech.” You scoffed and yanked your arm out of his grip. “I never actually hated you. Do you have to knit pick everything you hear?”

“Apparently I do since you don’t know how to send a clear message to save your life.” He shouted. “You hate me, you love me, which is it?”

“I hate you!” You screamed, pointing a finger in his face.

“I hate you too!” He yelled back, stepping closer to you so your noses were touching. The fire in his eyes ignited one in your own, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“Good!” You barked.

“God, do you ever stop talking?” He gripped the counter angrily as he stared you down.

“Why don’t you make me stop talking?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“You are the most annoying girl I’ve ever met.” Peter growled as he towered over you.

“You’re no walk in the park either, Parker.” You hissed.

“My name is Peter.” He snarled, griping your hips. “Say it.”

“You wish.” You laughed shortly. That was all Peter needed you hear to push him over the edge. He grabbed your face and pressed a searing kiss to your lips. You clutched his shirt, gripping it firmly to keep him as close as possible as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“Peter.” You mumbled into his ear, making him chuckle when his plan worked.

“Fine line, huh?” He smirked as he held your chin between his fingers.

“Yep.” You laughed breathlessly and kissed him again. “The finest.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker jealous #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #marvel #spiderman

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idreamofplaid · 4 years

Text

All is Calm

Square Filled: Impala for @spngenrebingo & Huddle for Warmth for @spnchristmasbingo

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam mostly mentioned

Word Count: 2445

Summary: Dean been distracted by hunting lately, but he’s fully focused now. Everything is clear to him.

Created for @spngenrebingo & @spnchristmasbingo

Dean was usually so good about keeping Baby maintained and in top condition. Her oil was always changed hundreds of miles before it needed to be, the air pressure and tread on her tires was checked on practically a weekly basis along with her fluid levels. Some people might say he was obsessive about his car. You’d come to understand she was more than just a car to him, and the way he cared for her was the way he cared for anything and anyone that mattered to him.

It was one of the many admirable qualities about Dean. You had noticed this softer side of his in so many small ways since you’d met him. Along with that softness, he possessed a driven determination. That determination pushed him to keep hunting the next monster, save the next person, do what he could to make the world better. That was why Baby hadn’t been receiving her usual amount of attention lately, too many monsters in the world. That was also the reason the two of you were stuck in the middle of nowhere Montana right now. Baby had a dead battery.

That was bad enough, but it was the week before Christmas, and in Montana that meant full fledged winter. Walking out of here wasn’t an option. The last town you’d passed through was thirty miles back, and new snow was beginning to fall. Even worse, the cell signal out here was so weak Dean had barely gotten to say ten words to Sam before the line went dead. He reassured you that was enough for his tech geek brother to turn on the GPS and find you. You just had to wait it out.

Fortunately, Baby’s trunk contained not only every weapon known to humankind but also sleeping bags and blankets in the compartment beneath those weapons. Dean fetched those and covered the backseat with a sleeping bag, leaving the other covers in a pile for now, then he motioned for you to get inside with a lopsided smile, “We’re going to have to make the best of it until Sam gets here.”

Sam didn’t drive the way Dean did, but he could be fast enough when the situation called for it. Still, it would take hours for him to get here. That was a long time with the temperature dropping the way it was. You tried to sound more sure that the two of you would make it through this okay than you felt. “What are we going to do exactly?” The uncertainty was in your voice in spite of your best efforts, and you knew Dean could hear it based on his reaction. He went into joking and downplaying the situation mode.

“We’re gonna get under those blankets and sing Christmas carols. I have a fabulous voice.” He held the car door open and swept his arm gallantly toward the interior and the back seat. You climbed in and Dean followed, closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been in Baby’s backseat by any means, but it was the first time you had been here with Dean. You knew it wasn’t the first time Dean had been back here either; the difference was he wasn’t a passenger when he was in the backseat of this car. Better not to think about that right now. You were in danger of freezing to death; you could think about your crush and deal with your jealousy tomorrow after you survived.

Dean reached around you, grabbed the other sleeping bag, and settled it around the two of you; then he did the same with a blanket. His final move was to put his arms around you and draw you in close to him. He rested his chin on top of your head and dropped the bravado. “I’m gonna keep you warm, Y/N. It’ll be okay.”

His body was warm, but as the last of the heat disappeared from the inside of the car, you could feel the cold gathering around the little cocoon Dean had made. You weren’t going to let yourself be scared. You were with Dean, and he would take care of you. You tried to snuggle closer to him, but you were already about as close as you could get. So, you tried to distract yourself. “What about those Christmas songs, Dean?”

He rubbed his hand along your back to create more warmth. “I kinda exaggerated that a little. I can’t sing at all.” You put your head on his shoulder and sighed, only it wasn’t the contented kind; it was much more the “I can make it through this” kind of sigh. Dean tried to redirect your thoughts with a different approach. “I can tell stories though.”

“Really?” You didn’t lift your head from his shoulder and slipped your hand beneath his jacket. Dean took it for what it was, a gesture to keep warm, but it was more than that to you. It comforted you to feel him closer. “Tell me one. Tell me a Christmas story.”

“Well...um...I don’t really have too many Christmas memories, but I’ll tell you what I’d like to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I felt your hand slide across my stomach and come to a stop on my ribs. Under different circumstances, it wouldn’t be long before I’d be kissing you. It’d be the kind of kiss that was hot and previewed what else I was about to do to you. We weren’t in those kind of circumstances. I should have gotten you in the back of this car before now and made out with you the way I couldn’t stop thinking about. I should have done a lot of things, but now here we are. You want to hear a Christmas story, so I’m going to tell you what I should have done about Christmas.

“When we get back to the bunker…” That’s it. Keep the focus on we are going to get out of here. “I’m going to get a tree, and we’re going to find some ornaments. I bet the Men of Letters stashed some somewhere in that place. Or, we’ll buy some. But we’re going to decorate that thing. You, me, and Sam. It’ll be a big one too. You can decide where we put it. Where do you think the tree should go?”

You shifted against me. You still felt warm enough, but I wish there was a way I could keep you warmer. It’s my fault you’re in this mess. How could I be this stupid? I’ve been taking care of this car since I was a kid. This is probably the biggest fuck up of my life, and there’s plenty to choose from. You answer my question, pulling me out of the downward spiral I’m in. “I think it should go in the library, so we see it as soon as we come into the bunker. And we spend the most time there. Maybe we could get another tiny one for the kitchen to look at while we eat?”

You love Christmas trees. Why didn’t I ever know that? You love them, and I haven’t gotten you a single fucking one the whole time you’ve been living with us. “Yeah. Sure we can get a little one too. We’ll make strings of popcorn to put on it like they did in those Christmas movies Sam watched when we were kids.” I realized then it was Sam who’d watched the movies and the reindeer cartoons. Sam had wanted Christmas too, and I’d just blocked the whole thing out. Christmas had probably gone up in flames on the ceiling for me the night my mother died. I regret that now.

What else was in those movies Sam used to watch? “We’ll make hot chocolate too, with whipped cream, and stick a candy cane in it. We can wrap presents together. Maybe you could teach me how to wrap them better so they look pretty good?”

Your hand felt so small on me, and your voice was quiet. “Yes, I’ll teach you how to wrap presents. There should be a lot of presents under the tree. You haven’t had many presents, Dean, and you should have. You deserve presents.” Where did that come from?

“I...I don’t know about that, but you do.” You were beginning to feel colder to my touch. I needed to do something. “Y/N, let’s lie down, sweetheart.” Hopefully, full body contact would make you warmer. I lay you down on the seat and stretched out next to you so the entire length of my body was against you. I made sure a blanket was pulled up behind you to cover the seat of the Impala because it was probably warmer than the leather.

You put your cheek on my neck, seeking out the warmth I had to give you. “You okay, Y/N?” You nodded but didn’t answer out loud. I didn’t like the quiet. It was better to keep you talking. “What do you want for Christmas this year? I’ll make sure Santa knows.”

That made you laugh. “Is Santa real too? Have you been holding out on me?”

Yeah, I’ve been holding out on you, but not about Santa Claus. “I could get a message to him. What do you want?”

You giggled, and it was a beautiful sound. “I want some Christmas pajamas.” I could picture you in something like that. It was cute and sexy. “Will you get some too? And Sam? We could have matching pajamas. Like a family.” Wait a minute. Did you just put me in the brother category? And why was I worried about that now?

“Sure, sweetheart. I’ll tell Santa to get us all Christmas pajamas.” It’s going to take one hell of a bribe to get Sam to go along with this one.

Then you surprised me because you asked, “Dean, what do you want?” I had no idea how to answer that question. The things I wanted couldn’t be put inside a box or under a Christmas tree.

Hell with it. I’m just going to be honest. “I want you and Sam to be happy.” That sounded a little like I was making you a sister which I’m definitely not, so maybe you didn’t brother zone me before.

You kissed my cheek, and it warmed me inside, making me forget how cold it was on the outside for a few seconds. “I want you to be happy too, Dean.”

It wasn’t the right time or place, but I put my finger under your chin, tilted your face up, and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, a kiss to tell you what I was afraid to say, what I’ve always been afraid to say, afraid to even admit until we’re in a situation like this, until I can’t push it away or distract myself with something that doesn’t matter nearly as much. I love you. But I can’t tell you that now because it might sound like some kind of deathbed confession, and I can’t let you think you’re going to die. You’re not; I won’t let you die.

One thing my father did that I am very thankful for at this moment was teach me how to survive. I hope you understand what I’m about to do. In this kind of cold, you need body heat. Direct body heat; our clothes are in the way. They’ve got to go. Your eyes are starting to drift closed, and that can’t happen.

I lift your head up, and you slowly open your eyes. “Hey, Y/N. Stay with me. Okay? Keep your eyes open. Let me see how beautiful they are. Look at me, Y/N.” I put my hands on your cheeks and hold your face steady to keep you focused on me. “I need to get you warmer. My body can do that if I take off my clothes. It’ll be warmer that way. Okay?” You nod at me. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest. I’m scared, but I steady my voice for you. “Then, I’m going to take yours off, so our skin is touching.” You nod again.

“Alright.” I kiss your forehead then take my jacket off, thinking I can put that on top of you later too. I take the rest of my clothes off and get back under the sleeping bag. I notice the snow is falling heavy outside. I hope Sam can find the car when he gets here. I’m careful when I take your clothes off to keep you under the covers.

When everything is gone, it’s just you pressed up close against me. I’ve got to keep you awake, keep you talking. “When we get back home, I’m going to take you on a real date. The least I can do is take you to dinner after you got naked with me.” You smile at my stupid joke. That’s good. “We’ll go to Lawrence. I’ll show you where I grew up. There’s this steakhouse there that I can barely remember, but my dad used to take my mom there. They couldn’t afford a babysitter, so I went along. They had these menus for kids you could draw on, and I always got crayons. I colored everything blue. I remember my mom laughed about that.”

This was too far down memory lane. I was probably boring you. “Do you like steak? We could have seafood instead, or Italian, or something. Anything you want.”

“I like sweet potatoes. Can you get a sweet potato with your steak?” Crap. I don’t know. You couldn’t thirty years ago, but you couldn’t get sweet potatoes anywhere then.

“You want sweet potatoes? We’ll go somewhere where they have sweet potatoes.” I kiss the top of your head again. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. We can go to a real city if you want. Go somewhere really fancy. Dallas maybe. Do you want to see the lights of the big city?”

The only answer I got was, “You’re so warm, Dean. You feel so good.”

I put my hand on the back of your head and held it. “I’m gonna make you say that under different circumstances.” My joke, that wasn’t really a joke, wasn’t working this time.

I wasn’t sure you even heard me, but then you whispered, “Promise?”

“Promise.” A single tear slid down my cheek.

The knock on the window was loud; it made me jump, but you didn’t notice. “Dean! Dean!” I have never been so happy to hear my brother. We’re going home, and you’re going to have those pajamas.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @neveratease @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05

#spngenrebingo #spnchristmasbingo #dean angst #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean in love

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milktyama · 4 years

Text

— ☕︎ IF BY CHANCE

a/n: here are the imagines that anon gave me and gave me permission to expand with my own accord!! thank you anon i love this idea (and also added the song to my playlist thank you for that) ALSO longest work ever done!

— heavy reference to if by chance by ruth b.

synopsis: "if by chance... could you forgive me?"

pairing: 3rd year/adult!kageyama tobio x reader

genre: fluff to angst, hurt little comfort, in spain w/o the s

wc: 2.3k

thank you @kohi-zeri @snoozless for beta-ing! <3

❥︎ two swear words, most obvious n smallest manga spoiler

People like to emphasize how high school will be the greatest and the wildest years of your life. And a major part of high school is exploring first loves and small infatuations. High school love is so innocent and light-hearted and sometimes awkward, but that is what makes it so charming.

That is exactly how it felt being with Kageyama Tobio after meeting him in your final year of high school. Shy confessions were exchanged on the daily, pinkies linked as the main source of public affection, anything more flustering both of your young selves.

You always thought that meeting your high school sweetheart in your last year was a sign of bad luck. It was way too late for any deep love to actually develop. It would almost feel forced or fleeting, the connection not having enough time to harvest and bloom.

Though, being with him proved that wrong.

Having him in your life was a blessing from the moment you first encountered him on a rainy spring evening during your way home. You would’ve never expected that that day to become as significant to you back then as it does now.

A small irregularity of Kageyama Tobio forgetting his umbrella when the weather forecast had explicitly predicted a 90% chance of raining during the evening. That night, you thought to yourself that he was counting on the 10% chance that it wouldn’t rain, when in reality it was simply the fact that he did not check the weather forecast daily.

Pft. You would think that being a senior in high school would mean taking up a little more responsibility, but that wasn’t the case with him. His mind still ran on the adrenaline and excitement of volleyball and volleyball alone.

You saw him attempting to take shelter under a cherry blossom tree in the nearby park. The droplets of the rain reflected the sunlight as they landed on the light pink petals of the tree, giving it a warm and peaceful glow.

Kageyama’s hair and clothes were damp from the minimal protection he had against the pouring rain. If you had not approached him that night and offered to share your umbrella, nothing would have happened between the two of you.

You two would have remained as casual classmates, having small insignificant encounters that could be easily looked over: being assigned clean up duty together, collecting tests from people in your row — simple things that no one would ever think twice about. This encounter alone could have easily been part of the list of insignificant encounters… it was just a classmate looking out for another classmate right?

But the warm kindness you showed him on that cold, rainy night had somehow reached Kageyama’s heart. What he at first thought was a mere act of kindness towards a classmate had sprouted into something a little bit more.

After that night, Kageyama found himself looking in your direction more often. His bright blueberry eyes would wander towards your figure who sat a few desks in front of him. You never caught him staring during class, but his presence was more than enough to burn through the back of your head.

It seemed his not-so-subtle glances have rubbed off onto you because you would find your eyes starting to linger on him as well. His tall and lean figure captivated you. His raven hair, his blue eyes, his indifferent voice, and infamous “resting bitch face” were triggers your brain could not miss.

The more the days pass with your attention captivated by this man, the more you realize your feelings towards him. It was a rocky but surprisingly short journey, with both parties who faced difficulties with expressing their feelings to the other, but everything eventually fell into place, leaving it up to fate to bring both of your yearning souls together.

And oh boy did fate put a strong magnetism between the two of you.

You fell in love with Kageyama Tobio through and through. Sure, it was a little awkward at first, with stiff movements and a sprinkle of miscommunication, but after speaking your hearts out, it became clear: you were in love with him just as much as he was in love with you.

At least that is how it seemed.

Even after sharing light kisses under the cherry blossom tree where you met for the first time, your hands held in his rough ones, surrounded by the smell in his clothes that you borrowed from his closet. Or passing small notes to each other during class and sleepless nights when you tried to tutor him in classes he lacked on. Or shouting from the top of your lungs whenever you attended any of his games while sporting his spare jersey.

All these memories seemingly came crashing down a week before your graduation.

Your ears rang after he utters a short phrase that had enough power to crash your world, enough power to make you feel as if everything you’ve done the past year had been a waste, enough power to leave you on your knees, helplessly clutching your chest as the pain starts to spread throughout your body.

“I’m sorry. But… I think I’m in love with someone else.”

He continued to ramble endlessly. Maybe it was more apologies, or maybe he was reasoning what he’d been doing with you this past year. Maybe he was word vomiting in order to make this impact on you less heavy. Whatever it had been, you couldn’t hear it. You lost your grasp of your senses the second those words had reached your ears.

How did you not notice this? How could you not see how his glances towards you became less frequent, how his kisses grew more reluctant, how he wouldn’t reach for your hand first, how his eyes didn’t sparkle for you? You only now realized that he fell out of love. Or maybe he loved someone else all along? Or maybe you were just a game to him? You didn’t even want to consider the latter.

Your sight was blurring with tears that you desperately tried to keep in, but they had already fallen helplessly down your face. You didn’t even notice that Kageyama was no longer in front of you.

When you finally composed yourself, you could see his retreating figure in the distance with someone else at his side. They weren’t hugging or holding hands or kissing or anything of that sort. But watching the person you thought you could love for the rest of your life walk away with someone else was just too much for your poor heart to bear.

It has been exactly 4 years since. You graduated from university and did some intern work during your summers to distract yourself. You truly believed that you have finally picked yourself up and moved one. It was only after seeing him on TV, seeing that he had achieved his dream of going pro, that all the emotions came rushing back.

You still loved him. You always have and never stopped. Your love for him was so great, so powerful, so unconditional that it never left your system, even after being broken in one of the worst ways possible.

Maybe if he had loved you then you would still be by his side, cheering him on.

He reached out to you a few months after your break up. With your wound still fresh, you had truly believed he called to get back together, only to get your hopes crushed. Well, not completely, at least. He called to apologize again, figuring that back in high school you — actually, both of you — had been too emotionally distressed to properly deal with the situation.

It was a very short call, 5 minutes at most. His apology was simple and to the point, but that was how he was. He swore he was sorry for ending things the way they did, and ended the call with a promise. He promised to never hurt you again.

Although his heart may or may not have not been occupied by someone else during your time together, he still found comfort and familiarity when he was with you. Before he could hang up, you too apologized for how you reacted and dealt with the situation, swearing the same promise.

But that promise proved harder to keep than you had thought.

You encountered Kageyama once again, but this time he was with someone else. He seemed happy. It was hard to believe that even after all these years, your heart still beat for Kageyama Tobio. It hurt your heart to see him smile for someone else, knowing those smiles used to be for you. It hurt your heart to know that you were no longer the reason for his smiles being so wide, so genuine.

You wondered if he still recalled the memories the two of you shared. If he still sang along to the song you two spent weeks choosing and claimed as “your song” or if he skipped it. If he still reacted to advertisements that featured your favorite lip balm, the one he loved tasting on your lips whenever you kissed. If he remembered the future plans you talked about, where the two of you would live in a comfortable apartment and how the interior would be decorated; how you would spend nights dancing around the living room.

Either way, you were no longer part of his life. He had found someone else to dedicate his heart to. As if to confirm the dilemma that has plagued you for so long, Kageyama leaned into a kiss to the forehead of his partner, smiling as he pulled away whilst leaning his head onto his partner.

Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes. You ran, allowing your body to take you wherever it pleased, hot tears falling helplessly from your eyes continuously.

So much for keeping a promise.

Your feet finally stopped, tired, your eyes worn out from crying. You slowly took in your surroundings as you felt the warm breeze of a spring evening, soft petals tickling your sensitive skin. It was quite obvious where your heart belonged.

You found yourself under the tree where you first met him. Where you two would often sit and exchange fleeting kisses or a small treat, feeding each other with fond eyes. The wind blew past you as the petals from the cherry blossom tree slowly fell, surrounding you in a cozy ambiance that left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

As your legs finally gave up at the memory that came rushing into your head, you heard footsteps that sounded like they were approaching your way. A piece of light blue cloth neatly folded entered your line of vision. Your eyes shot up to the tall figure that was now towering over you. His body faced you, however his eyes did not meet yours.

You hesitated before slowly reaching out for the handkerchief in his hand, avoiding his eyes as well.

“I’m sorry…” was all that came out from his lips. There was a moment of silence, disrupted every now and then by a couple of sniffles. Kageyama tried speaking again.

“I’m sorry for hurting you again, even after I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“It’s fine…” you managed to choke out, voice slightly cracking. You thought you sounded pathetic. You two broke up four years ago, for fuck’s sake! A lump formed in your throat again, a mix of the remains of old memories and your own consciousness trying to bring some sense into your pained heart.

“If by chance… could you forgive me? For breaking the promise I mean,” Kageyama asked. His words were gentle and soft, maybe a little sweet like honey, attempting to cover up any harshness. It was clear he did not want to hurt you for any longer. His blueberry eyes that you missed so much had a small sparkle to them. You wondered what that sparkle meant.

Was it because he still loved you? Did he miss you the way you missed him? Or maybe he only felt pity for you. Maybe he was hoping for something more. What could he be possibly hopeful for? Your forgiveness? It wasn’t like you were mad at him. Afterall, it was your own fault for falling so deeply in love with him. As painful and bitter as it was, you tried your best to pull your lips upwards.

It was the saddest smile he had ever seen.

Voices in your head screamed at the pain you felt in your heart, but your head reasoned that this was not his fault. You had to let go, once and for all.

“Of course I forgive you.”

The words vibrated through your skull. Your head forgave him, your self-conscious told your heart to forgive him, but in the end, it wouldn’t succumb to logic so easily. You thought with your heart rather than your head, and you absolutely hated it. You broke too easily and gave in to the way your heart beated instead of the words that were trying to break through your thick skull.

The sun sets, warm yellow tones of the fleeting rays of sunlight shone upon the pale pink petals of the cherry blossom tree. The petals turned into a light orange colour as they fell ever so elegantly from the branches above you, surrounding your figure on the ground.

You clutched your knees to your body as you watched his figure stray from you, slowly getting further and further away. Memories from the first time you met under this same tree flooded into your head as a single tear droplet slid down your right cheek.

You felt a lump at the back of your throat. It was an awfully bitter yet mildly sweet feeling. You didn’t mean to be selfish with your feelings towards Kageyama, but if by chance, things didn’t work out with his current partner, then maybe, just maybe, he could be part of your world again.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 12- Whatever It Takes

Summary: This is it, you’re finally going to help save the world and if all goes to plan, bring Bucky back in the process.

Warning: bit o angst

Masterlist

It’s been a solid month since Tony and Rocket have been crafting tirelessly on the construction of the giant time portal machine type deal, or whatever he’s calling it nowadays. And to your great surprise, as well as everyone else’s, the first test run with Clint was an undeniable success.

Compared to the first one with Scott, things have come a long way.

Clint was able to wander around in that alternate universe for a couple minutes without returning with so much as a single scratch. Thus boosting the teams confidence and excitement for the inevitable time heist that’s in the works. So as of now, everyone’s currently brainstorming as to how this will go about for the most successful mission possible.

“Okay, so the how works.” Begins Steve as everyone sits around the large meeting room, glass screens projecting info about the stones displayed in the background, “Now, we gotta figure out the when and where. Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones...”

Tony cuts in with his spout of knowledge, “Or substitute the word “encounter” for “damn near been killed” by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Damn straight, your ass got launched into a Wakandian tree last you saw those goddamn stones.

“Well I haven’t..” Interjects Scott with a puzzled look, confusion clear in his voice, “..but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” Oh right, he missed out on all the fun while he was fucking around in the quantum realm.

Sitting on the table you shrug, “Be glad you’ve never seen them, those fucking space rocks will kick your ass if used less then kindly, but it doesn’t matter now. From my understanding we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each.” You explain as they all listen intently, “And clearly these fucking stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

Tony nods, “Our history. So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

“Which means we have to pick out targets.” Adds Clint as Tony points in his direction, “Correct.”

Steve soon gains everyone’s attention once again, “So, let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” Asks the blonde, all eyes turn towards the back corner of the room to find Thor slouched in an armchair, beer can in hand while the other one keeps partially hidden in his pajama pants.

A dark pair of sunglasses conceals whether he’s currently awake or not. “Is he asleep?” Wonders Natasha as Rodney humorously adds, “No, no. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

A few soft chuckles are heard as you listen intently to the god of thunder, “He’s alive, and most definitely sleeping off that last beer.” You muse as they all give a collective curious brow while you simply shrug, “I can hear his heartbeat, and it’s low enough to tell me he’s not dead.....Well, at least not yet.” You mutter, eyeing up the sleeping giant as an idea sparks into your head.

A second later you pick up a discarded empty beer can sitting right next to you on the table before throwing it at the snoozing god, the thin metal smacks against his forehead with that familiar pop of the can sound, falling to the ground with a crackly ting as Thor jolts awake. And back to the land of the living.

“Nordic Santa you’re up.” His head snaps in your direction as he gives a semi-awkward half grin.

“Ah right, right, thank you angry one.” Points Thor with a genuine smile now as he quickly gets up before walking over to the screen depicting the red swirly like stone substance. Although soon he delves into the finding of the red mass, what it did to his former flame, that he took her to Asgard seeking help for her sickness, how he showed Jane to his mother, and then he immediately got sad and lost all motivation and train of thought on anything related to that stone.

Ah yes, personal trauma. It’ll do that to you.

Later that day when everyone was feasting on some Chinese takeout, Rocket began an in-depth explanation into where the Power Stone was found; by some guy named Quill who stole it from a planet called Morag. After some time later, Nebula revealed that the Soul Stone was retrieved from Vormir, the place where Thanos murdered her sister Gamora.

It’s been an interesting day to day the least.

Now here you are, slouched comfortably in a lounge chair you stole from the other room, flipping around a pocketknife as Natasha and Tony lay on the nearby table with Bruce sprawled out on the floor in all his Banner-Hulkness. Books scattered everywhere as the two Avengers keep comfortable on some decorative couch pillows as you listen to them brainstorm about the stones whereabouts.

Flipping the knife skillfully between your fingers an idea suddenly pops into your head, “Hey what about that time stone guy you were talking about earlier.”

Banner hums, “Doctor Strange.”

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?” Wonders Natasha as you mentally question the same proposition when Tony gives his quick witted answer. “Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit-from-hat.”

“Nice place in the Village, though.” Adds Bruce, Tony agreeing in an instant. “Yeah, on Sullivan Street?”

“Mmm....Bleecker Street.” Mutters Banner as Natasha interrupts, face shifting to realization. “Wait, he lived in New York?”

“No, he lived in Toronto.” Sasses Tony as Banner reveals the truth. “Uh, yeah, on Bleecker and Sullivan.”

Tony coming back with more playful sarcasm, “Have you been listening to anything?”

Suddenly it feels like a lights been switched on in your brain, “Guys.” You quickly implore as they keep silent to listen, “If you pick the right year, wouldn’t there be three stones in New York?” Their faces all collectively shift to astonished realization when Bruce quickly sits up to look at you. “Shut the front door.”

“Well at least someone is paying attention.” Quips Tony as Natasha smacks him with a book.

——

“All right.” Begins Steve as the whole team gathers in the meeting room, “We have a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

You nod, smirking with excitement, “Let’s get these fuckers and maybe end up saving the world while we’re at it.” He sends you a proud grin and within the next half an hour are the eleven of you suited up and standing in a large circle atop the glass of the giant time portal.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us....we lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams. You know your missions. Get the stones. Get them back. One round-trip each. No mistakes....no do-overs.”

“Most of us are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives...and we’re gonna win.” Affirms Steve with a mutual nod, “Whatever it takes.” He gives one last look around the circle of familiar faces before nodding, “Good luck.”

Nudging the muscular blonde, he shares a small smile with you as you quickly return it, “You practice that last night?” Steve chuckles at your amusing comment while Rocket and Scott gush over his admittedly incredible motivational speech skills.

“Just thought the team could use the confidence boost.” Admits Steve as Bruce flicks the motherboards switches to get the time portal up and running. The machine whirs to life while everyone begins putting on their helmets.

Your slightly apprehensive gaze trails to your left where Natasha is standing, she gives a playful smirk as you force a true smile, “See you in a minute.” Chides the red head as you break out into a smirk.

“будь осторожен там Romanoff.” You add, shifting into your natural dialect that she’s all to familiar with, your actual words translating to “be careful out there” as you give her one last flash of a grin.

A hot second later, your body shrinks to the size of an atom as you feel like you’re entire body is free falling out of an airplane in some strange rainbow colored portal that shifts to shimmering diamonds and then finally a blue coral type texture as you find your teams designed route down some swirling tube of blues and bright white lights until at last you land in...

“Holy shit look at this place.” You mutter in absolute awe at the large golden pillars of Asgard, there was no fucking way you were missing out on traveling to this realm. And anyways, Steve kinda made it your task to keep the potbellied god of thunder in check as yourself and Rocket attempt to locate the Reality Stone with Lebowski as your generous tour guide.

Thor smiles fondly, proudly beaming at you with a rare form of happiness as he points towards the large cavernous halls of the royal palace, “Oh this? Yeah, it’s neat isn’t it, I grew up here....played games down this very hallway actually. Me and some friends used to spar one another as children down here with wooden sticks that looked like swor...”

“Thor.” Interrupts Rocket with an annoyed huff, “Remember why we’re actually here.”

You nod in agreement, quickly remembering the current mission, “He’s right. No time to dwell on fond memories, we need to find that stone before anyone sees us. And going by the logic of literally every time traveling movie I’ve ever seen, which admittedly isn’t a lot, but it’s enough that I know no one can see us. Especially you Thor, that would be a big problem for this timeline, so lead the way.”

“Yes, right on that, good point Y/N....okay um...” He looks around for a moment before pointing in the direction of choice, which is down a long spacious hallway, “This way, no ones gonna see us if we go by the dungeons.” Explains Thor as he quickly leads the way down the obnoxiously long hallway that thankfully is decently vacant.

After about five minutes of trekking around the castles interior, Thor guides you and Rocket down a long stairwell of dark grey stone until you reach the bottom floor. There are large basins of fire lighting the way down the lengthy hallway pass, he jogs past a couple golden tinged cells holding a few odd looking prisoners on your way out.

No doubt these fuckers look like they deserve it.

You pay them no mind as Thor hustles silently across the flooring to a door on the far end, though as you’re shuffling past another cell, your eyes land on the green and black clad slender body of a dark haired man laying atop his bed. Face focused towards the white ceiling as he tosses a cylindrical piece of metal in a repeated rhythm only done by that of an incredibly bored individual.

That must be his brother Loki, you draw into conclusion while racing out of sight of the trickster god while Rocket makes haste by your side. Kind of handsome, you think as an unknowing smile finds itself onto your face. God Y/N you truly are a desperate woman. No, just no.

Eventually, Thor leads your little team of three upstairs to some large balcony type area with a grand view of Asgard, the three of you keeping hidden behind one of the multitude of intricately decorated pillars as he eyes up a woman halfway out of a giant door while she accepts some clothing from a maid.

His bearded face lights up in joy as he points a finger towards the brunette woman, “Oh, there’s Jane.” Whispers Thor as she closes the door, the Asgardian maiden leaving and walking elsewhere down another yawning chamber.

“All right.” Starts Rocket as he stands on some ancient rock covered in unknown hieroglyphics before jumping down to face the two of you once the coast is clear, “Here’s the deal tubby. You’re gonna charm her, Y/N’s gonna keep watch, and I’m gonna poke her with this thing..” He shows some strange metal device with three silver prongs sticking out of it, “...and extract the Reality Stone, and get gone lickety-split.”

The optimism off of this creature never fails to astound you.

“Yeah, what he said.” You add with a shrug in Rocket’s direction as Thor sniffs before raising up a finger. “I’ll be right back, okay? The wine cellar is just down here...” Interjects Thor as he slowly begins walking away, clearly ready to abandon his part in the mission, “My father used to have this huge barrel of Aakonian ale. I’ll see if the scullery has a couple of to-go cups.”

“Hey. Hey!” You whisper yell, causing him to stop for the moment, “Aren’t you drunk enough already? Fuck that fancy wine we got better things to do.” You urgently vouch just as some doors loudly open nearby, immediately the three of you hide behind the stone of hieroglyphics and watch as a long haired woman leads the way, a multitude of servants in her wake as she says something about giving books to Loki from the library.

“Who’s the fancy broad?” Wonders Rocket as you raise an intrigued brow at Thor, his eyes never once leave the woman’s as he takes a steady breath, “That’s my mother.” Reveals the disheartened god, a sudden sadness lacing his very words that does not go unnoticed by you, “She dies today.”

Your breath catches in your throat at this sudden tragic news of great loss, you remember when you lost your own mother by the filthy hands of Hydra and how they helped you quickly forget about her. You didn’t have anytime to grieve or even question her sudden disappearance for that matter, “Oh, shit...that’s today.”

You share a nervous look with Rocket as Thor begins taking some deep almost panicked breaths, his emotions all rising together like a swelling storm as his face shifts to an afflicted pain, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this....” Rambles Thor with a shake of his blonde mane, eyes displaying panic, “..I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come. It’s a bad idea!” Whisper yells Thor as he anxiously shifts from one foot to the other.

“Come here.” Beacons Rocket from his perch on the rock.

“No, no, no...” Deviates Thor as he waves his hands nervously in the air like he’s trying to flick some mud off of them, “I think I’m having a panic attack.” Worries the flushed faced god.

“Come here. Right here.” Says Rocket as he points to the rock, an increase in irritation shifting the tone of his voice while Thor breaths heavily, clearly not on board with whatever Rocket’s going to tell him.

“No, no, no, guys I can’t...I can’t do this, I’m sorry but I’m not ready, I can’t...” Thwack, Thor yelps in surprise at your intentionally weak assault on his large bicep, “Y/N what was that for?” He half-offendedly demands, brows furrowed in confusion at the flash of anger racing across your sour glare.

“You think you’re the only one who lost people?” You snap as he lowers his head like a beaten dog, “What the fuck do you think we’re doing here? I lost the only person I ever loved, Rocket lost his whole family, gone, just like that.” You affirm with a snap of your fingers.

His face grows conflicted as you suddenly lose your heated aurora, face falling into a frown as you place a comforting hand upon his shoulder, “Thor, I know it hurts that you lost your mom...believe me I get it, but she’s gone. And there are plenty of people who are only kinda gone, and you can help them.”

Thor nods apprehensively as you share a small smile with him, “So if it’s not too much to ask, can you get your shit together for the next however long this is going to take so we can save the world?”

Rocket chuckles before gaining the both of yours attentions. “Agreed. Now all you gotta do is make schmoopy talk to Pretty Pants and when she’s not looking, suck out the Infinity Stone and help us get our family back. Aight?”

Thor nods once more, face twisting into a saddened pain a he looks down to the floor, “Okay.” Mumbles the god of thunder weakly, face reddening as his eyes get glossy. You let him take a breath as he avoids your gaze at all costs, eyes beginning to water while he tries to play it off.

Giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze, your brows furrow in puzzlement, “Are you crying?”

He shakes his head, some tears slipping despite his verbal protest, “No.” Mutters Thor weakly as his tearful gaze finally picks up to meet you, “Yes..” Squeaks out the teary eyed god while his eyes flicker from the far wall to your face once more, “...Y/N, I feel like I’m losing it. I don’t, I don’t know what I’m doing...I just feel so...shit I don’t know anymore.” Admits the fearful Asgardian as he avoids your softening yet slightly annoyed gaze.

oh, Thor you sad motherfucker. I’ve been there.

Rolling your eyes you gently shake his shoulder for emphasis, “Listen to me you big lion, get your shit together! You can do this. You’re the god of thunder for fucks sake, you can do this Thor.” His face turns into a surprisingly more confident expression as he huffs with a self-assured nod. “I can do this.”

“Yeah...I can do this.” Repeats the Asgardian with a sniffle.

Smirking, you give his arm a friendly smack, “Good. Now let’s do this and get the fuck out of here.” You add before swiftly turning on your heel as you and Rocket lead the way to the door, reaching it, the talking raccoon tugs on your leg before you get a chance to open it. “What is it now?”

“Y/N, we lost him.”

“What?!” Realizing Thor has indeed slipped away and out of sight, you clench your fists in irritation, “Goddammit.” You seethe before looking down at Rocket, “Whatever, we’ll find marshmallow fluff later, let’s just get this stupid rock.”

——

Racing down the palaces golden hallways, your boots thud against the stony ground as Rocket runs on all fours right behind you, “I almost hope they catch you!” You shout in between the yelling of the royal guards as they hastily pursue the two of you down the hallway.

“We got the stone didn’t we!” Snaps Rocket as you pick up your pace.

“We gotta make it back first you dumbfuck!”

He grumbles something unintelligible before you follow the beer tinged scent of Thor into another room, he’s speaking with his mother when they quickly turn around, “Oh, uh, hello...uh, queen something.” You mutter before Rocket practically smacks into the back of your legs. “I got the thing. Come on. We gotta move.”

Thor nods, speaking some last final heartfelt goodbyes to his mother before abruptly stopping the countdown to three just so he can summon his hammer. After a couple lengthy seconds, Mjolnir falls right into his strong grasp causing Thor to laugh and smile in excitement. “I’m still worthy! I’m still worthy.”

Rocket shares a look with you, “Oh, boy.” Mumbles the raccoon as you simply roll your eyes at the bearded Asgardian prince. A moment later the three of you are sucked into the time portal once again before landing on the glass of the time portal machine.

“Did we get them all?” You hear Steve ask in wonder as you hold your stomach from the jostling ride back.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You mutter as Rodney smiles in excitement at everyone around him and the stones in their proximity. “Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Taking a deep breath to steady your turning stomach, all eyes turn to Clint as he suddenly falls to his knees, face a mask of saddened grief that sparks panic in your heart. “Clint, where’s Nat?” Questions Bruce as your face falls.

Not her, not Natasha too.

Standing solemnly on the Facility’s large dock with the teams main Avengers in various places close by, you lean against one of the thin steel beams, a deep frown on your lips while your fingers anxiously play with Bucky’s dog tags around your neck.

“Do we know if she had family?” Questions Tony to no on in particular.

Steve swallows thickly, a couple free tear stains falling down the side of his cheeks, “Yeah. Us.” Mutters the blonde gloomily as you bite your bottom lip to keep from crying again.

“What?” Wonders Thor almost in disbelief as Tony gives him a quizzical look, “Yeah, no, you guys are acting like she’s dead. Why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones Cap, we can bring her back. Isn’t that right?” Adds Thor, glancing between all of you before facing Tony again, “So, stop this shit. We’re the Avengers. Get it together...”

“Can’t get her back.” Interrupts Clint dismally, eyes still set on the open water beyond the compound.

Thor’s brows furrow in befuddlement, “Wh-what...”

“It can’t be undone. It can’t.” Insists Clint, voice slightly wavering in despair; Thor then starts chuckling at the absurdity of the whole shitty situation before rambling about space magic and that there must be another way. Clint on the other hand quickly gets heated about this and promptly snaps at Thor about some red floaty guy he met who revealed once the Soul Stone is taken, the one sacrificed can never come back. Ever.

Soon things calmed down again, though still a rather gloomy atmosphere still lingers like a persistent hazy fog even after they all left, leaving no one but yourself and Steve on the dock. He keeps a steady gaze on the rippling water as he lets his sadness take its course, this is indeed a heavy blow to bear.

Letting out a shaky breath, you move from the leaning against the beam to instead find a spot next to him on the wooden bench. Dog tags still clutched in your fist as you steal a glance at the tearful man. You’ve admittedly never seen him so upset, well, you both may have shared a good cry when Bucky was whipped from existence five years ago. That was the first time you ever truly bonded with anyone from the team, the first time Steve and Natasha showed you their vulnerability.

And for that, you’ve formed a stronger bond with them that you’d never thought possible. They welcomed you into the compound like an old friend, always treated you with respect and gave you room when you needed it. And even when you didn’t want to be around anyone, they still forced you into playing cards with them anyways, among other dumb games. Which annoyingly so, is what your sad little self needed back then.

But without Natasha, without her beaming heart and fierce attitude to keep fighting through the unknown and murky waters, you’re not even sure if this would all still be conceivable. Or if you’d even still be here with all of them for that matter, you might have gone on an angry warpath just as Clint did when everyone he ever loved was snatched from him forever.

So why, after all this time and pain, is she the one who had to go? It’s not fare. And your heart feels broken all over again; sniffling, you swallow thickly before turning your head a little in Steve’s direction, “I didn’t know her for as long as you guys did.....but she was, really the best of us..” You laugh dismally.

Voice shaky as you hold Bucky’s tags close to your chest, “..If not better. She was the first Avenger I ever met you know, the only piece of my past that didn’t try to murder me on sight, actually. I liked her. She was who I needed to get me through my grief, among other things huh...and uh...I will miss her.....a lot.”

Nothing is heard except for the low rustling of the nearby trees as a soft wind blows into your faces, Steve clasps his hands together, turning to you, “Funnily enough, it took me some time to completely trust her, but now....there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” Mutters Steve with the flash of a genuine smile as he thinks fondly on Natasha, who you wish more then anything could still be here to celebrate the hard work of finding those goddamn stones.

It’s not fucking fare.

Swallowing thickly, you nod in agreement as more hot tears trail down your somber face, “The world will owe her their lives and never even know it.....but I will, we all will. Her memory will live on if I can help it, we owe her that much.”

Steve slowly nods, thumbs fiddling together anxiously as he mutters a raspy, “Yeah.”

You rest a comforting hand atop his broad shoulder as he shares a mutually dismal look with you, “We’ve already lost so much already and she fought for this like no once else did, we will avenge her Steve. I don’t doubt she knows it.”

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