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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Merlin accidentally becomes Legolas/Katniss/Merida… you know the type;

He may be shitty at sword fighting, but Merlin begins to use a traditional bow and arrow and… actually becomes very good at it??

I imagine the first time he does it, it’s a complete fluke.

The five knights, The King, and Merlin are on their way back from yet another (frankly, ridiculous) quest.

They have been, of course, ambushed by a group of bandits, twenty to their six (six plus Merlin, though no one bar Lancelot knows about his magic, so he isn’t counted as a fighter). Though the knights outweigh them in skill, their sheer numbers makes it a… challenging, fight (meaning that they are winning, but far too slowly for their liking, and no one wants to admit it).

Now normally, Merlin hides behind a tree or in a ditch, and performs his spells quietly without being noticed, slowly helping and speeding up the fight. Except this time, the Gang was in the middle of a barren, open field, the bandits had disguised themselves with magic until the moment they attacked, and Merlin was right in the middle of all the action.

Everyone worried for his safety. There was nowhere for him to hide here, so they had to keep an eye on him, lest he get hurt (and Arthur sulked, or kicked off, depending on how badly he was hurt).

With nowhere to hide (and no branches to drop, or roots to trip people with), and one of the knights throwing a glance his way every ten seconds, he couldn’t use his magic.

He was currently on his hands and knees, Leon directly in front of him, Percival to his left, holding off four attackers between them (Merlin would marvel at how impressive that was if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied).

He keeps trying to get to Arthur, crawling between legs and over the groaning, injured bodies of bandits (he made a point to land sharp elbows and harsh knees into the more… sensitive areas), but with everyone moving around so rapidly, and the vicious swinging of swords and axes and maces inches above his head, he kept getting side-tracked and blocked and almost knocked out.

With a frustrated huff, he notices yet another bandit rounding on The King. Said huff turns into a pained gasp when he realises that Arthur hasn’t seen him yet.

The bandit raises his weapon in the air, seconds from bringing it down on Arthur’s back, but Leon is right there, and there are no branches to drop on him, and Arthur still hasn’t noticed!

The noise is too loud, grunts and yells and clashes of metal drowning out any sort of warning yell that Merlin could throw Arthur’s way, and he scrabbles around on the floor desperately; hands raking through sharp grass and over bloodied bodies as he stares in horror at the triumphant smirk on the future-King-killer’s face.

Time seems to slow (no magic, just adrenaline) as Merlin’s hands find purchase on a smooth, curved piece of wood. He picks it up without looking, at first intending to throw whatever it is as hard as he can in the bandits direction, before something (magic, instincts, periphery vision, who knows) tells him to look down.

He obeys, and widens his eyes as he sees the longbow gripped tightly in his right hand, and a stray arrow on the floor next to his left.

Merlin is no expert, only having actually hunted once or twice back home in Ealdor, when he was younger, but that was just enough knowledge for him to know roughly how to notch the arrow and fire. He pulls the two up quickly, a plan formulating in his head:

Step 1) Notch arrow.

Step 2) Close eyes.

Step 3) Magic? Hope?

Step 4) Come up with some sort of lie that explains how he managed to make the shot from sixty yards away, through a crowd.

Thankfully, it would appear that Merlin’s bad luck has given him a rest today; the first three steps go off without a hitch (the fourth will come a little later, when the battle is over), but he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself before he’s thrown into the fray, the bandits now obviously seeing him as some sort of threat.

Arthur finally defeats his own attackers, looking behind him in shock to see his unknown enemy lying on the floor, gurgling up blood and grasping weakly at the arrow through his neck. His head whips to the side, trying to find whoever had made the shot; his bewildered gaze meets Merlin’s for only a second before the servant is dragged to his feet, and promptly punched in the face.

He stumbles back and can just about hear Leon yell something from beside him but he pays it no mind, righting his balance once again and swinging his arm back, before bringing it down harshly on his newest attackers head. The resounding crack echoes over the field as the wood of the longbow splits in two on the bandit’s skull, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, each knight taking advantage of their enemies' fatigue, and Merlin using his now broken longbow to whack them in the shins or trip them up when they weren’t paying attention.

He was sad to see it broken, but two of his closest friends literally owned a blacksmith's, and he had easy access to the Castle’s armoury; he could get a hold of another one easily enough, as long as he survived the journey back home.

The battle finally came to a close. Everyone was exhausted, and each of them was sporting more than one hefty bruise, but they were all alive and there were no serious injuries, so they could be grateful for that. After Arthur had counted his men, and generally taken stock of things, he traipsed tiredly over to Merlin, who had abandoned his broken bow in favour of cleaning a still weeping cut on Elyan’s temple.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin.”

The servant ignores him at first, biting his lip in concentration as he carefully wipes the grime away from the wound. It was small, so an infection wouldn’t be too worrying, but it wouldn’t be comfortable and would make the scarring worse, so best to avoid it if at all possible. He hums in satisfaction as he leans back on his heels, Elyan gives him a grateful smile, and Merlin finally throws a glance Arthur’s way, before focusing back on threading the needle in his hands; it would only need two or three stitches, thankfully:

“Hmm. I'm not fond of hunting, but we had to for food back in Ealdor. Except we didn’t have fancy crossbows or hunting dogs, so we had to make do with hand-whittled longbows.”

Arthur nods, frowning slightly:

“Still, if I’d known you were that good, I would’ve demanded you had a bow of your own; that way us lot wouldn’t have to spend so much time making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Merlin smirked and quirked an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from Elyan’s stitches, whispering an apology at the man’s wince before he speaks slowly, concentrating:

“Careful Sire, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Elyan snorts out a laugh, but Merlin tuts and lightly slaps his leg disapprovingly, and he stills again. Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff:

“As if. Hurry up, I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

Arthur wasn’t the only one that noticed Merlin’s outstanding shot, and over the course of the next few day’s journey home, he received a multitude of compliments from the other knights.

Including an hour long excited infodump about the history and use of longbows from Leon, which Merlin eagerly hung onto every word of, a fond smile on his face (Leon was a noble, and had it practically beaten into him to not ramble, so Merlin always did his best not to discourage the man. That, and the fact that it was actually very interesting, and useful, if he were to keep up this charade that he was an expert marksman).

When Merlin finally had a moment alone with Lancelot, a few days after they had gotten back, he burst:

“Please please tell me you know how to use a longbow??”

Lancelot raises his eyebrow from where he was sat on the bed in Merlin’s room. Merlin was staring at him with unconcealed desperation, and the knight chuckled as he answered:

“Why? It’s not like you need any more training, that was a cracking shot.”

Merlin huffed loudly, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at the knight:

“I used magic!! I closed my eyes so no one would see and I guided the arrow with magic! Now everyone thinks I’m some master marksman! This is bad. What if next time I can’t use magic, or what if someone notices that I have my eyes closed when I fire?”

Lancelot clamps a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from giggling, but he gives up quickly, bursting into laughter at the younger man’s panic. Said younger man fumes, sputtering as he picks up one of the knight’s discarded boots and throws it at him:

“It’s not funny, Lance! I’m being serious, this is an actual issue!”

Lancelot calms himself, rubbing the mirth from his eyes as he takes a deep breath:

“Ok ok, sorry. Yes, I can teach you to use a longbow properly. Have you ever actually used one before, or was the hunting thing a cover?”

The red fades from Merlin’s face slightly as he realises the other man is intending to help him, his panic lessening:

“Sort of. Yeah, I went hunting with a bow a couple times, but not enough to be that good at it.”

Lancelot sighs fondly and nods his head:

“Well, that’s a start at least. Come on, I’ve not got patrol until after dinner, and Arthur thinks you’re busy helping Gaius, so we’ve got a few hours.”

So I imagine that’s how it goes for a while.

After their last big adventure, Arthur was reluctant to head out as a group again, wanting to give everyone time to recuperate and get back into the swing of things.

Merlin’s skills with a bow were bought up constantly by everyone, news had even reached Gwen (who gave him a proud smile and a cute little dance to congratulate him) and Gaius (who raised an eyebrow, and had much better skill than Lancelot at holding in his laughter).

Gwaine, Elyan, and even Percival were desperate to set up targets and watch him shoot shit (their words), Leon wanted to talk about the specifics of technique and crafting, and Arthur... well. Arthur sounded like he was taking the piss, but there was something else in his tone that Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Affection? Pride?

Probably not, probably jealousy and annoyance that Merlin is so effortlessly good at something that Arthur himself was average at at best.

Merlin manages to avoid it for a while, showing his “skills” off, but he and Lancelot are running out of excuses, and Arthur is starting to accuse him of being a fake who got lucky. Normally, things like that didn’t bother Merlin, and technically Arthur wasn’t wrong... he had got lucky, and cheated with magic, but that wasn’t the point. It was nice for Merlin, to be good at something, really good.

He was good at plenty of other things. Magic for starters, though not even Lancelot knew the full extent of his power in that area. But he cooked well (shown by the fact that the knights always scoffed the lot), he was a good physician (shown by the fact that the knights trusted him just as much as Gaius when it came to treating injuries and sickness), and he was a BRILLIANT servant, if he did say so himself.

But he never got any actual praise for that. Merlin hated to think badly of the knights, his friends, but they only complained when Merlin wasn’t there, never praised him when he was. Well, apart from Lancelot. And that had just started a bunch of rumours that they were... uh... boinking.

(False. Anyone with more than two braincells could see that Sir Lancelot was head over heals in love with the newly-promoted Housekeeper, Guinevere, and that The King’s Manservant had an affinity for certain a blond prat-King.)

ANYWAY

It was nice for Merlin to have a skill that others thought worth complimenting, and with Lancelot monitoring his practice sessions, correcting any mistakes and offering congratulations whenever he did well, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he no longer had to come up with excuses.

Luckily, Merlin picked it up very quickly.

Despite being clumsy by nature (though Lancelot is starting to suspect more and more that it’s all for show), the dark haired servant can consistently hit bullseyes from fifty yards within a month. The further away from the target he got, the less astounding his aim was, but that was to be expected, and another month later he could successfully hit a moving target from seventy feet.

A training session, around three months after he started properly practicing, he finally “gave in” to Gwaine’s begging. Lancelot helped him set up a bunch of targets, and fetched a bag of apples to throw.

Merlin put on quite the show, grinning at the uproarious applause he got from the knights when he hit every single bullseye, and every single thrown target. Thankfully the knowing, proud smiles between the servant and Sir Lancelot went unnoticed, and even Arthur gave him a clap on the back and an impressed nod.

The first time Merlin met the knights in the courtyard to find Leon holding a longbow and quiver of arrows out to him, he panicked slightly, but one reassuring smile from Lancelot boosted his confidence, and he took them with a quiet thank you.

(After the fifth time, Arthur huffed, and told him to just keep them. He was the only one that regularly signed them out of the armoury anyway, so it would just be easier if he just took possession of them.)

It settled everyone’s stomachs, knowing that not only did the group have a master marksmen, hiding in the trees and taking out enemies that they didn’t see coming, but that Merlin personally now had more than his frankly horrifying (or... horrifying as far as they were concerned) stealth skills to keep him safe.

And that (a master marksmen in the trees) is exactly what happened.

In the early days, it involved a lot of bruises; Merlin could fire well, but firing and balancing at the same time? Took some getting used to, and involved a lot of falling out of trees at inopportune times.

The knights, Gwaine and Arthur especially, laughed endlessly at that, but quickly stopped after a particularly tired and irate and bruised Merlin fired an arrow so close by Gwaine’s crotch, that it stuck his trousers fast into the tree just behind him.

At first, it was meant to be just as back-up; Merlin was no knight. He still refused to wear armour, and Arthur didn’t want his manservant to make himself a target... at least that was his excuse.

Really, it was because (as far as Arthur was aware) Merlin had never deliberately killed before. Even now, years into his Kingship, and even longer into his knighthood, Arthur hated killing; it made him sick, and took a lot of practice at compartmentalization before it no longer bothered him as much.

Merlin was his manservant, his (best) friend, the love of his life (secretly). He was not a warrior, he was not meant to kill, he was meant to be protected from that.

But alas, Merlin did not get the memo, and the first patrol he went on with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he killed at least five bandits.

After the fight, it was Leon who approached him first, a concerned look on his face despite Merlin’s nonchalant expression as he checked over the string for wear and tear:

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin? You got a few good shots in there, you’re not feeling sick?”

Merlin looked up at the hand on his shoulder and the soft words, a confused look on his face:

“Why would being good make me feel sick?”

Leon tilts his head in sympathy, which just makes Merlin even more confused:

“The man you killed the other month was spur of the moment, protecting your King. But you... you killed a fair few men today, Merlin. I know that can be incredibly difficult at first, I just wanted to check in.”

The others had finally walked over to join them; Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur looking equally concerned, whilst Lancelot hid his proud smile. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at them:

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never killed anyone before?”

Everyone (bar Lancelot) looks taken aback at that, and Arthur frowns whilst Leon drops his hand in shock. The King speaks slowly:

“Merlin, are you telling us you’ve killed people before?”

The manservant clenches his jaw at that and looks back down at his bow, resuming his checking of the string and its knots. He speaks lowly, and the knights can tell it’s not a topic he’s fond of:

“Hmm. It’s a tough world, Sire. I’ve done what I had to, to keep myself and the people I care about safe.”

At his dark reply, conversation stopped, and didn’t resume for the rest of the day as everyone contemplated Merlin’s words.

That is, until he was the first one to successfully catch dinner later that evening. At which he got an incredulous look from Arthur when he made it back to camp with his half of the patrol:

“I thought you despised hunting??”

Merlin didn’t look up from the hares he was skinning, and the rest of the knights tuned in, curious:

“No. I hate hunting for sport; it shows hubris and cruelty. Hunting for food is not only necessary and natural, but humbling, if you do it right and honour every part of the creature.”

Arthur, ever the eloquent one, stared at him blankly, and said, rather dumbly:

“...What?”

Merlin huffed, finally looking up:

“Going after helpless animals on horseback with crossbows and hunting dogs is like giving yourself a huge pat on the back for winning a tournament against an unarmoured, unarmed, unconscious opponent, and then calling yourself strong and brave for daring to fight in the first place. It’s an egotistical act of violence for no other reason than cruelty for the sake of cruelty.-”

The knights looks on him with shock, Percival and Leon at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. Merlin looks back down to the hares, and everyone notices the careful way he cuts at the fur:

“I’ve taken these lives to feed us as a necessity. The meat will be eaten, but that isn’t all. I’ll take the bones home for Gaius, the marrow is useful in a lot of medicine. The fur can be repurposed for winter gloves or socks. The organs and other bits that we won’t eat: I’ll take for the pigs in the farms, or the dogs up at the castle. In using every part of them we are... honouring them, in a way. As a thank-you for their... sacrifice.”

Arthur looks a little dumbfounded. As royalty, he of course had never really considered the waste that comes about with hunting, but Merlin, a farm-boy from a rural village who barely scraped by every winter? Of course he saw a deeper meaning in hunting. He would have to.

Elyan is the first to break the silence:

“You almost sound religious, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, a strained smile on his face. As magic incarnate, he has a particularly strong, temperamental relationship with nature and her creatures, a bond that some might call faith. To be wasteful or cruel in any way hurts him in more ways than one:

“Not really, I just have respect for nature, is all.”

No one mentions the thinly-veiled insult, but everyone creeps closer, wanting to see the way he disassembles the creatures for future reference.

It’s been eight months since that first, perfect shot.

Merlin’s skills with a longbow had become a normal, expected part of The Gang’s experiences, but the knights never stopped praising and thanking him when he saved their lives (something that Merlin still hadn’t quite gotten used), and The King had apparently not stopped thinking about it for barely more than a second.

Yule was approaching quickly: Merlin, Gwen, and the Steward being constantly busy with preparations in the castle, the knights being run off their feet escorting emergency aid to the border villages for the harsh winter, and Arthur himself having every minute of the day taken up with speech writing, invite sending, and his other general King-during-Yule duties.

That however, was all to be expected, and of course did nothing to keep Arthur and Merlin from their annual traditions.

It wasn’t official, it wasn’t even spoken of, but the last evening of Yule, the night before the new year, the two of them always spent together.

The last feast of the year would finish, Arthur would stay to see his guests off, thank the staff for all of their hard work, and finally retire to his chambers, his tired manservant barely a hair’s breadth behind him. They would sit in front of the lit hearth (in comfy chairs that only they used), work their way through a jug or two of wine, exchange small gifts, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Their hands, dangling over the side of their chairs, seem to be creeping closer and closer with each passing year; though have yet to become entangled by morning.

This year was somehow no different, and very different, at the same time.

The King and his Manservant settled in their chairs, tired and already a little more than tipsy from the wine drunk during the feast. Arthur looked up at Merlin, the fond smile dropping from his face when he sees the other man’s features pulled into a contemplative frown:

“What’s on your mind, Merls? I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since the start of the celebrations.”

Merlin looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide, but he smiles and shakes his head:

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.”

Normally, Arthur would raise an eyebrow and let a scathing tease on the state of Merlin’s intelligence fall from his lips, but not tonight. This is the only night of the year that The King allows himself to entertain the idea that perhaps he and Merlin were more than friends, or at least could be. So instead he resumes his smiling, and looks back to the fire, taking another sip of his wine before responding softly:

“What about?”

Merlin hums, copying Arthur’s wine-sipping, before taking a deep breath:

“The future, mostly. You, me, Camelot. Secrets and truths, and when one might turn into the other. Soon, I think... yeah. Soon.”

Arthur huffs slightly in amusement. He knows that Merlin hides a great deal of himself, but he always becomes more cryptic after a few glasses of wine, like he desperately wants to say something and doesn’t have the power to stop himself from hinting at whatever it may be.

He asks his next question good-naturedly, a smile sweetened by wine gracing his face:

“The hell does that mean?”

Merlin lets out a short laugh, looking up at the other man:

“Oh, you know. Thinking about spilling all my deepest darkest secrets to you, at some point soon.”

Arthur snorts, saying, only for the sake of keeping up the charade they’ve built:

“You don’t have any secrets, Merlin. Certainly not any that are deep or dark.”

Once, Arthur would have believed that. Then, when he stopped believing it, he was angry about it, and now? Now, he finds he doesn’t mind so much. He is confident, he has faith, in both himself and in Merlin. He knows that those secrets are there, and Merlin knows that he knows, but that’s ok. Nothing either of them could reveal would tear them apart, at least not for long, so Arthur was happy to wait until Merlin was happy to share.

Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s response, shaking his head slightly before reaching down and picking up a small wrapped parcel that he’d stowed away before the feast:

“Come on, I’m a little nervous about your gift this year, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the change in subject, and set his wine down so he could pick up the (much bigger) parcel by his own chair.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After the first gift-exchange happened, Merlin had put his foot down and made Arthur swear to not go overboard on the expense side of things. Arthur may have been a prince, and now a King, but Merlin was still just a servant/physician; he could hardly afford anything worthy of a King.

He had a feeling that Arthur might’ve broken his word this year, but where Arthur had likely gone overboard with expense, Merlin had definitely gone overboard with sentimentality.

They swapped parcels, Merlin placing the large, heavy box carefully at his feet as he gestured Arthur to open his first. Arthur got to it, tearing the paper off without a second of hesitation, and Merlin allowed himself to smile fondly at the child-like excitement on the blonde’s face.

Arthur’s brow creased as he dropped the paper to the floor, stroking soft fingers over the worn leather of an old, well-loved book. Merlin took deep, fortifying breaths as Arthur carefully opened the first few pages, butterflies in his stomach as Arthur’s eyes wandered the yellowed paper in curiosity.

The King looked up at him, amused confusion on his face as he asked:

“Is this yours? I didn’t know you could draw, Merlin.”

Merlin gulped, and shook his head as memories of the exquisite sketches filled his mind; detail-perfect renditions of the castle, the town square, waterfalls and knights in action and people that Merlin didn’t recognise (for the most part. Arthur evidently hadn’t gotten to any of the pages with young Uther on them).

“No, not mine. This one requires a little explanation-”

Arthur nodded, carefully closing the book and holding it protectively in his lap as he gave Merlin his undivided attention:

“-I mentioned off-handedly to Leon a few months ago that I thought the lack of... of paintings of the late Queen in the castle was odd.-”

Arthur gulped at the mention of his mother, but nodded with a small smile when Merlin paused:

“-He said that when she passed, The King had everything to do with her moved to the vaults. He couldn’t force himself to destroy any of it, but looking at it, day in and day out, was too painful. We found the keys, with the help of Geoffrey, and went down to have a look, see what we could find. We didn’t tell you about it because we didn’t want to disappoint you, in case we couldn’t find anything.-”

Merlin once again looked a little nervous at this, and reached a hand out towards Arthur. When the man didn’t flinch away (if anything, he leaned into it), he moved to grip his shoulder blade, running his thumb over the exposed skin at the base of The King’s neck.

“-We found... a lot. Old clothes and paintings mainly, some jewellery. But then I found that;-”

He nodded at the book in Arthur’s lap, and tightened his grip on his shoulder. Merlin spoke his next words so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him, a soft smile on his face:

“-your mother was quite the artist, Arthur. I knew you had to have it.”

Arthur gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked down at the book:

“You... you think my mother drew these?”

Merlin smiled at him, moving his hand to squeeze Arthur’s wrist slightly, before dropping it entirely:

“Check the back page.”

Arthur took a deep breath before doing what Merlin said, handling the book with even more care than he had before now that he knows who it belonged to. He turned to the very last page, to see an inscription written in beautiful cursive. Merlin recited it aloud, having memorised the words weeks ago:

“My dearest son, my silly sketches are able to hold only a fraction of our Kingdom’s beauty. I know one day that you will see what I see, treasure it just as much, and make it your own. You have my support, forever and always, your loving Mother.”

Arthur bites his lip harshly, lifting the book to press his forehead against the words as he shuts his eyes tightly, though that does nothing to stop the tears. Merlin replaces his hand on The King’s shoulder as the man shakes. He sniffles slightly, putting the book back in his lap, though keeping his hands wrapped around it securely, as he looks to Merlin:

“Merlin, I... I don’t even know what to say. This is... amazing. I... Thank you.”

Merlin smiles, shaking his head slightly:

“Technically, it wasn’t even mine to give, it’s always been yours. But I thought it might make a nice surprise. There’s plenty of other stuff down there, I’ll show you in the morning.”

Arthur nods his head, wiping his tears as he carefully places the book on his side table and gestures to the box at Merlin’s feet. He was itching to scour through the book, dedicating every single line to memory, but whilst Merlin had been nervous about Arthur’s gift, Arthur was buzzing about Merlin’s, and he was desperate to see the man’s reaction.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, but picks the box up, noting once again how heavy it is. He sets about removing the paper, much calmer and more methodical than Arthur had been, with his face pinched in concentration.

He frowns in curiosity as he sets eyes on the wooden box. It had a hinged lid, and a logo that he’s certain he recognises burned like a brand into the corner. He can feel Arthur bouncing in his chair slightly, and looks up at him in amusement, laughing once again when he nods excitedly back down at the box.

He lifts the lid, and takes in a shocked breath.

Inside was a beautifully crafted long bow; the wood smooth and varnished and carved, and a leather quiver. The patterns embossed in the leather and carved in to the metal at the base, match those carved into the wood of the bow, and Merlin traces soft fingers over the intricate swirls, stopping with a teary smile at the Pendragon crest, carved just next to a Merlin bird.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding as he looks up at the excited King:

“Arthur this is beautiful. Gods I almost don’t want to touch it, I feel like it should be on display behind glass.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, obviously pleased with Merlin’s reaction:

“Nope. It will be going with you every time you leave the city, and considering how much trouble we always seem to attract, I have no doubt that it will see a lot of use.”

Merlin laughs, closing the lid carefully and setting the box back on the floor, before launching himself bodily at Arthur. The blonde laughs, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle with no hesitation as the other man mutters endless thank-yous in his ear.

The servant finally pulls back, settling in his own chair again, and the two of them hope that the other puts the flush on their face down to the wine, and nothing else. They look to each other with wide grins on their faces, and Arthur breaks the stare first, taking another gulp of his wine before laughing jovially and speaking:

“Well. Here’s to an amazing year, and hopefully an even better one, starting in a few minutes.”

Merlin nods, lifting his own goblet to tap it against Arthur’s:

“Here’s to the past, that guides us-”

He gestures to the book on Arthur’s table:

“-and the future, that calls to us.”

He gestures to his new bow, and they both finish their wine off, a healthy flush to their cheeks and fond smiles on their faces.

They fall asleep in their respective chairs, the same as every year.

In the morning, they wake with pounding headaches, a promise of a golden future, and hands intertwined.

THE END!!

We love a cutesy/hopeful ending😌

Like always lads, you wanna write it out in full, go for it, credit and tag me✌️

Head over to This List to see what I’m working on next, and cast your vote!

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Going to a Private Onsen with Gojo

NSFW Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, established relationship

Type: One shot. This is around almost 4k words.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW content, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, daddy kink, squirting, overstimulation, praising, dom!Gojo, breeding kink, slightly manipulative/ Yandere Gojo, degradation

Notes: finally got to finish this fic, my motivation just dropped halfway lmao. The inn house has rooms with private hot springs. Not shared like the communal ones in public bath houses. This is half fluff half smut.

The private hot springs per room are separated by bamboo trees and wooden walls. (With holes. So you know what's gonna go down👀💦💦💦)

You and Satoru finally get the chance to have a 2 day 1 night short break from work. He takes you to an inn, checking in a tatami room with a private hot spring (onsen) included. The place smelled fresh, and you could smell the flowers outside.

"We can see the hot springs from here love. What do you think? It's gorgeous isn't it?" Satoru wiggled his eyebrows at you. You both set your luggage down, making yourselves at home. The sun is still high up, it is only 2:00pm and the hot spring is steaming, the sunlight making the water shine and glitter.

"It's not bad at all; the room is quite big as well." You smiled. Despite knowing that you're only stroking his ego, you let it go for once. Just this once because it is a special break after all. He internally pats himself on the back, beaming at you. “Glad you like it. Let’s take a walk around the area and then come back for dinner.”

“Fine with me”. Both of you changed into traditional clothing first. Gojo into a Yukata and you into your kimono. He helped you tie your obi and do your hair up. "Look how pretty my kitten is." He practically purred out as he cinched your waist beneath his large hands. His hands felt like fire on your waist.

You flushed, softly calling out his name. "N-not now." You stared at his profile. All lean and muscular. Knowing his physique hidden under the blue fabric did nothing to help.

"Not now." He agreed. But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. Still he held himself back.

So you both set out, exploring the town. The stalls were bustling with people. You both bought souvenirs for the students as well as omamori (charms) for various purposes.

You visited the temple and just tried to relieve the pent up stress from the last few weeks. “The air is so cool and it smells really nice here.” The flowers were all in bloom, as it was spring as of now. Satoru, however, kept his eyes on you for most of the time instead of the scenery around him.

“Yeah, it’s real pretty isn’t it? Wanna take some photos?”

“Good idea! I need a new lock screen pic of us Toru!” you smiled. Your smile unfortunately dimmed upon noticing other women staring at Satoru and batting their eyelashes at him (ignoring the fact that you were right beside him).

You’ve always known that he was a gorgeous person, just thanking your lucky stars that he actually came around to reciprocate your feelings. “Hey”, Satoru cupped your face and turned it to face him. He was pouting. “Focus on me love. This trip is just for us.”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. AH! I wanna have a picture by that Sakura tree~”. You tried to be more enthusiastic and engaging, blocking out any jealous and negative thoughts.

Seriously, it's not like you didn't trust him. Just that your insecurity gets to you sometimes. You quickly bat the thoughts away. Your thoughts came to a halt when you felt something soft on the corner of your lips.

"Love you." Satoru murmured against your cheek. You turned to see his eyes under his drooping sunglasses just an inch away from yours. You couldn't help but sigh in admiration. Of course he knows how you feel. "I love you more Toruu~ Now let's go." You gave him a genuine and bright smile. Walking over to a shaded area near the lake, surrounded by tall grass.

He leaned down to press his cheek against the top of your head and placed one arm around you. His other hand was holding up his phone for a selfie. After you took some pretty and funny photos, he surprised you by bringing out a polaroid.

"Eh?! Since when did you bring that with you?" You asked him. Satoru gave a sneaky smirk, "Well. Since you talked non stop about loving the vintage aesthetic recently, I thought it would be good to make a small scrapbook or photo album of this trip."

".... who are you and what have you done with my husband..."

"Hey! That's rude. I'm always nice and sweet." He pouted and widened his eyes, using a finger to push down his shades. "I knowww~ Just kidding Toru, I love your ideas. I'll help you with it then."

"Of course you will pumpkin." He squeezed you against his side, not caring about anyone who might be looking at both of you being overly affectionate in public.

He took pictures using the polaroid camera every now and then. Taking your hand and leading you around, Satoru did not give your thoughts a chance to move away from him. He didn't hesitate to tickle you when your guard was down and poked at your cheeks with the most annoying grin.

After that it was just you and him. Enjoying your precious time together, undisturbed by anyone else. By the time the sun was setting, you dragged him over to an Izakaya. "Should we have dinner here?" You asked him.

"Ooooh! Looks like they have good meat and eel. That's fine with me." He replied. You both enjoyed dinner and had a bit of sake. Satoru always looked cute with flushed red cheeks and that big stupid smile of his. "Well you look cuter than me for once Hun." He quipped back.

You smiled as you wiped that teriyaki sauce off the corner of his mouth for him. It was a really peaceful day.

Walking back to the inn, you noticed a shadow moving quickly just by the corner of your eye. This is why you don't think about work during your free time. Feeling chills run up your spine, you turned to see a curse, staring straight back at you. "Ah shit I left my sword back in the inn."

Not even having finished your sentence, you watched as Satoru flicked his wrist and took down the 2nd grade curse in an instant. "I told you not to worry darling. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." He tutted and booped your nose playfully, eyes shining.

"Heehh~" you pretended not to be impressed but by the look on his face, you knew you didn't do a good job of hiding it. He just chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Toru I can't walk like this."

It was like trying to lug a 190cm tall clingy infant. "I'll protect you with my infinity from all sides love." He looked really happy, just prancing around with you in his arms as you both made your way back to the inn.

💜💜💜

You both settled back in and got ready to take a bath. It was a really good day and everything went smoother than you thought it would, knowing your chaotic and unorthodox doof of a husband.

"Dinner was so good. This was a great idea Toru, thank you." You smiled up at him. He smiled back, so soft and gentle with you. The way he never is and never will be with anyone else.

"Now then, I'll be taking my payment from you." You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face. Your husband of 5 years still confuses you until this day. "I'm sorry?" you felt affronted as you asked the question. You had no problem paying your share of the bills, heck you earn a lot as a 1st grade Jujutsu sorcerer yourself.

But Satoru spent about over a month pestering you about wanting to treat you to a short staycation with him. "Yes", he replied slowly making his way towards you, towering over your shorter frame. You stood your ground and craned to look up at him.

"Thank you for the meal sweetheart. You will be my dessert." He removed his glasses and threw them aside to showcase his bright blue eyes. You shivered from the intensity, and his lips turned up in a smirk. His words were somewhat funny, but his tone was dead serious.

He wasted no time, leaning down to suck down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, after he pulled one side of your kimono off your shoulder. "Sa-Satoru!!, hah- ", his grip on you was way too tight.

"Baby, I am so sorry I can't wait any longer. Won't you be good for me?" Satoru asked as he took a step back and cupped your cheeks in his hands.

It's true that this man has no self-control, always palming your ass down the hallways at Tokyo Jujutsu High. But you rarely see him as desperate as he is now, that it was actually endearing to you. So you relented, earning a grin from the man.

He helped you out of your kimono, littering small kisses on your forehead and cheeks, before he started biting on one ear.

Unclasping your bra, he reached down to grope your breasts. You stared at him as he suckled on one nipple while toying with the other. His eyes opened to meet yours, and you could feel the growing wetness between your legs.

You also reached up to pull his Yukata off, undoing the tie on his waist. "I love it when you hair is done up darling. I can bite as much of your neck as I want." He growled out against your shoulder, biting and sucking wherever he can.

Your mouth watered upon seeing the outline of his hard-on straining against his boxers. On the other hand, Satoru stared unashamedly as you pulled down your panties, keeping your legs together to keep your slick from dripping down your legs.

Impatiently, you reached up and ran your fingers through his locks. "Satoru~" you whined. He only smirked in response. In one quick movement, he gathered you into his arms and brought you over to the small washing area with the soap and shower-head.

He was still in his boxers however. You just stared at it, drawing closer to press your hand and rub the outline. He let out a long moan, which led to you to quickly look up and snap out a hush. "The neighbours might hear us Toru." You whined.

"Tch, Let them hear. They can't touch or experience us anyways. And I want to show off my lovely little wife." He leered down at you, finally removing his wet boxers and throwing it onto the ground.

His hard cock sprang up and slapped against his abs. As if moving by some force, you immediately dropped to your knees. Rubbing soap onto his waist, thighs, and finally pumping his cock with your soapy hands. You looked up to him as you "cleaned" him off with innocent eyes.

Satoru wasn't impressed. "Don't tease me baby or you'll regret it." He pulled you up and brought you into a deep kiss. You both gathered more soap and started washing each other off.

With his hands moving slowly down the sides, Satoru didn't hold himself back from touching every nook and cranny of your body. From your neck, to your shoulders, down your breasts, going to your thighs and legs. His hands were rubbing at your skin, inching nearer and nearer to your cunt. Until he suddenly pulled away, making you cry out at the loss of contact.

"Be good for me and let me clean you first kitten." He whispered.

No other words were shared as you both rinsed and washed each other off before moving to the onsen.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you in a hot spring." Satoru smirked as you both dipped into the water. You sat on his lap and clasped your hands behind his neck, straddling him. His hands gripping either side of you waist tightly.

"No I don't know." You turned away from him as you rested your head against his chest. He hummed. Both of you resting for a bit. You were both in the same state, antsy for action, but trying to enjoy the hot springs at the same time.

For a while you both just stayed soaking in the hot water. Until you started grinding down against him. He just stared down at your figure. Breasts spilling against his chest, the slope of your s line with your ass under the water. But you refused to meet his eyes.

Satoru didn't really like that very much. He pinched your thigh hard. "Ow!,' you yelped. "Toru what was-" you finally turned to look up at him, but faltered and stopped moving. His eyes were bright and his expression dark. "I thought my baby was going to be good for me tonight. You don't wanna beg me later just to come right? Or does daddy have to make you do just that?"

As soon as he said the word daddy you felt your insides clench around nothing, thighs quivering. He looked down towards your body, grinning at your response. He pulled you out of the water, sitting down on the ground beside it.

"Suck me off baby and I'll consider making you cum."

You crawled over on all fours towards him. You kissed him first, then trailed downwards, licking off the water and sweat on Satoru's abs and the outlines of his hard muscles. He groans while staring at you, pupils blown so wide his bright blue eyes actually look dark for once.

You can see the carnal lust raging behind him as you squeeze your breasts together while kneeling and licking his abs. You leave small butterfly kisses as you slowly make your way down to his aching member.

But, he groans as you skip past it and suck love marks into his lower thighs. "Pumpkin, please -UNGH, p-please don't tease so much." Satoru groaned. You smirked up at him, meeting his eyes while sticking your tongue out and licking one of his balls. Sucking it into your mouth and covering it with your spit.

He reached down to lift your chin up, thumbing your lips as he watched the saliva trickle down down side of your mouth to his fingers. The current sight of you is so lewd and dirty that Satoru almost came on the spot right there.

You decide to humor him and move to licking the head of his dick, while grabbing a hold of the base and slowly pumping it up and down. Satoru threw his head back. He looked up, seeing the night sky and the stars twinkling while feeling hot pleasure run through his body. He felt like he was floating.

You tried deepthroating all of him in one go, but he was just too big. "Baby, your mouth is too small for daddy's cock isn't it?". You whimpered in response. Trying to swallow as much of him as you can while using your hand for the remainder of his length.

Quiet mewls escaped the sides of your mouth as you opened your aching jaws wider. Tears started running down your face. You didn't stop as you relaxed your jaw and took more of him, swallowing what you can while pumping. He bucked up without warning, causing your gag reflex to react. Then he pulled you off.

"That's enough for now. I wanna make sure I stuff every bit of cum I have inside of your pussy baby." He pulled you up over him, this time with his back to the floor as he spoke.

"Lemme eat you out, I've been waiting for this all day." He was salivating at the sight of your pussy, positioned in front of his face. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. Impatiently, he tugged you waist down, smashing your lower lips against his mouth. You let out a loud yelp followed by heavy breaths and mewls as he ate you out.

Thrusting his tongue in and out of your walls. He loved the taste of you, always thirsty for more. You tried to grind your pussy against his face. But he held your legs in place with one arm, wrapping around your behind. The other hand was playing with your clit.

In no time at all you were sobbing and cumming all over his face. Satoru didn't spare you one second of rest. He pulled away and lined himself up, pushing into you during your orgasm.

He immediately started fucking into you earnestly, grabbing a hold of your waist and lifting it to pull you on and off his cock. "Toru, it's too much for me, I can't-" You could barely get the words out of your mouth as you slurred them out with your eyes shut.

"Yes you can. I know you can. Because you're made for me and only you can do a good job for me like this love." Satoru grunted as he pumped into you like there was no tomorrow.

He loved it when your walls clenched and squeezed against him tightly. Especially when your whole body shook during an orgasm. Whenever you open your eyes all you can see are the stars blurring due to your movements. You both came like that, with your backs arching. His cock stayed hard, twitching as it spurted and filled you up.

He suddenly felt the sensation of eyes on him. As the user of six eyes, his senses were wide alert at ALL times. He looked to the side of the wooden wall, and saw dark eyes staring back at him.

He didn't stop thrusting. You whined and mewled as you ground your hips against his. "Fuck, such a slut for me. Love it when you cry and make those noises babe. Just look at me. I won't look at any other person, man or woman. I'm yours as long as you're mine." He growled out.

He pulled out to reposition you. Dragging your body on top of his. Your back against his chest. "Daddy, I want you. I want more!" You whined out. You positioned his cock at your entrance.

"Daddy will give his baby what she wants. You've been so good to me after all love." He smirked inwardly pushed back upwards into you, thrusting at a fast pace. (Satoru chose the position because he knew you were both being watched. He loves to make other men so jealous of him having you).

You could only squeal and try to hold yourself up against him, putting your palms against the floor. But it was no use. He grabbed your thighs and kept fucking up harder and harder, making it hard for you to hold onto anything.

"Yes just like that baby. You're so good to me. You don't need to think. I'll make it so that you don't have to do anything else. You only need to feel my cock yeah? My doll is the best when she is crying on my cock." He moaned out.

The man on the other side of the wall was joined by a few other men. Satoru used his ability to see through the wall following the movement of their cursed energy and saw that they were touching themselves to you.

"Daddy, please more. Daddyyy~" you were slipping further into subspace. Soon you couldn't speak clearly anymore. Just babbling nonsense while bouncing on Satoru's lap and staring hazily up at the sky.

"I think we have company." He laughed out. You snapped out of your haze to see peeking eyes behind the bamboo sticks. Satoru just thrusted harder. "Let's give them a show of their lifetime hmm? I spy old men wanting some action. But they won't be able to touch you baby."

He reached up with one hand to grope your breast and the other stayed below to play with your clit. Sex to him was almost like an art form. He knew exactly how to play with your body to bring you to your strongest orgasms.

You tried to cover your body up but he pulled your arms away. "Don't run away baby, daddy's here to protect you. It will be okay."

At the end of the day you trusted him and his six eyes, so you let go. Pussy clenching harder at the thought of being watched by unknown strangers.

"That's it, my angel. So good for me. You're leaking far more than normal slut. You like it when people watch you get fucked?"

He reached up with his cum stained hand to spit into it. Then shoved his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suckled on and cleaned his fingers for him. He continued to grope you as he pounded away.

Satoru wasn't too worried about the spectators next door. He can see them clearly. Several middle aged men (probably sharing a larger room) messily jerking off to both of you. He saw the way their eyes travelled across your breasts and cunt, which was oozing with his cum.

He hit a hard deep spot inside of you which caused you to squirt hard, a large amount of liquid spraying out. Satoru quickly put his hands over your clit and furiously rubbed at it, wanting to prolong your squirting. You were crying out loud at this point. It was just music to his ears.

One man groaned out, causing you to tense and tighten and Satoru to moan out.

"You love putting a show on huh baby? We should do this more often if it gets you tighter and wetter around me." He snarked out while you drooled and asked for more.

He didn't stop thrusting until he came a few more times inside of you, changing positions.

The men watched as you rode him, your breasts bouncing up and down, while you placed your palms flat on Satoru's chest. They stared at the cum flowing out of your pussy, being fucked back into you by Satoru. The way you both groaned as you clamped down tight and milked his cock.

Soon you found yourself laying on your side with one leg up with Satoru spooning you from behind. What was frightening was his stamina and power.

His thrusts never lost strength and soon you just felt like his cock was drilling a space inside of you, just for it. You felt so boneless in his hands when you both finished, laying down on your sides.

"Babe…. You okay? We need to clean up." Satoru whispered against your shoulder.

You could only mumble incoherent noises. Squeezing around his softening length, still plugged inside of you to keep his cum inside.

Satoru gave out a soft sigh. Then gathered you into his arms and took you away from prying eyes. He just turned and smirked at them as he walked away with you, butt naked.

The watchers were disappointed that the show was over. Satoru then cleaned you both with the shower head in the washing area and wiped you down with soft towels.

You stayed silent the whole time. Your head felt like it was in the clouds. Just letting Satoru do his way with you like a doll. "You were really good for me tonight angel. Nobody else can touch you but me." He chuckled darkly.

You just listened to his simple commands such as putting your arms up when he dressed you in your nightgown. 'I always love fucking her dumb.' He smiled to himself as he settled you into his arms in bed.

"Next time I'll be fucking you in the water." He whispered. He brought you closer to him, tucking your head against his neck. Kissing your forehead and patting you to put you to sleep.

🎇🎇🎇

The next morning you were absolutely horrified to see people staring at you, when you both left your room to check out. 'I bet they heard us last night. And who were the ones peaking at us?!?!' you frightfully thought to yourself.

Satoru didn't really care. Smiling brightly at the attendants and thanking them for your amazing stay at the inn.

"Toru I really enjoyed my stay, but it's hard to be happy now knowing that we did it at the expense of our neighbours stay." You whispered, hitting him. "Darling I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the show." He winked at you, shameless as ever.

Suffice to say, you decided not return to said hot springs for a while out of shame.

End notes: 🙈 this fic started because I just thought of Satoru's abs wet with steam and sweat but it evolved during the last edit. Hope you guys enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated 💜

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fic #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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afriendlyblackhottie · 4 years

Note

hii, i love your writing so much and the black!reader content u provide us cause god knows we need more of them.

i wanted ro ask u if u could do a story where chris meets the reader at some celebrity party and they become really close and they start to fall for eachother. Chris asks her to be his gf but then she becomes distant and they end up getting in an argument and she reveals that she cant date him because shes a stripper and people will probably talk shit about her work being with a celebrity as known as him.

thank u in advanced i love your stories💕

Honey

Summary: After telling Chris the truth, he wants to make things right.

Parings: Chris Evans x black!reader

Warnings: smut, strip club, lap dance, pole dancing, girl on top, fingering, swearing, daddy kink

(A/N: this has taken me for fucking ever and I have no clue why. I struggled, but it’s finally done. I’m so sorry Anon for how long it took. I also couldn’t settle on one single song because you all suggested such good ones so I left it ambiguous.)

Tagging: @titty-teetee @blackmissfrizzle @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @harrysthiccthighss @mariahthelioness29 @whiskey-cokenfanfic @olyvoyl @hqneyyincc @queenoftheworldisdead @iam-laiya @donutloverxo @slytherinandoutasgard @zaddychris @brattycherubwrites @love-more122 @ljstraightnochaser (wouldn’t let me tag you)

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Chris still couldn’t believe that you’d think he’d care. As if whatever anyone had to say about you would make him want to be with you any less. He doesn’t even know why he let you walk away that night. Or why he let you cry as you finally told him.

Since then he’d been going over everything that happened in his head. The way your eyes welled up as you finally told him the truth. The shock that ran through him because even though he knew how nasty you could be, you still kept up the facade of a sweet innocent girl so well. Which is what drove him crazy about you in the first place.

Except you’d taken that as rejection and he was too late to convince you otherwise. It didn’t stop him from constantly thinking that there was more that he could have done. Hopefully he wasn’t too late.

When you met at that party he was enchanted by you. By your voice. The way you wore your hair. Your beautiful smile. Like he’d met an angel in the flesh. He took you home that night where he couldn’t even wait until he was inside to fuck you, instead bending you over the hood of his car so he could give it to you right then and there.

Between all the fucking and pillow talk, he’d fallen for you. Somehow you’d become his first thought when he woke up and the last one before he fell asleep. He’d fallen for you quick and fast and was tired of the two of you just being fuck buddies. He’d thought you’d felt the same.

It didn’t matter because the truth had come out and you hadn’t talked to him since. He’d thought about texting you, but as corny as it was he needed to do something bigger. So that’s why he was in the audience watching you work that pole. As much as he hated that other men got to ogle you he was more focused on how beautiful you looked up there.

He chuckled because you would choose such a glittery outfit to do this in. Your makeup was all done up all bright and flashy in a way you didn’t usually care for. Your wig was this pastel pink. He was trying to ignore his anxiety telling him that everything could go wrong. Maybe it would, but he at least wanted to try.

“Is it possible to get a private dance from her?” He’d asked one of the bouncers, trying to use his Boston accent so it might not be as noticeable who he was.

“Who?” He asked making this face. “Honey? She doesn’t do lap dances. Something about a boyfriend.”

His heart sunk a little, but he had to do this. “What about for a little extra.” He flashed the money he had in his pocket.

He thought for a minute, before shrugging. “Go wait in room four.”

It took about ten minutes for you to walk in with a silk robe on. Still wearing that wig. He knew that look on your face. The one when you had an attitude. Suddenly he was thinking about that night you got a little snippy with him. He fucked it out of you by pinning you down and showing you who owned that pussy.

Fuck he needed you back.

“Look, I do-“ you stopped when you saw it was him. “Chris, what’re you- what’re you doing here?” You stuttered, your eyes widening.

He took a breath, shrugging his shoulders. “I wanted to talk.”

“You could have just called me,” you said.

“Yeah but I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he said.

You crossed your arms and looked down at your feet. Trying to stop yourself from smiling. You hated how he turned you into a pile of goo. Especially when he was trying to be mad at you. “How’d you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he replied, standing up. He pulled you into his arms hugging you tightly because he didn’t care if you had an attitude.

As much as you hated to, you pulled away from him. It didn’t matter that you wanted to melt into his arm. “You can’t just come to my job, Chris.”

He sighed because although he was expecting that reaction, he was hoping it wouldn’t happen. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “I know. I just... if I had called would you have answered?” He asked. “Because I’ve been trying to call you. Fuck, what do you want me to do, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know! I just... look I’m scared, okay. Scared of what people might say if they see us together.”

“I don’t care what people have to say.”

“Because you won’t be the one dealing with it!” You suddenly started to feel all teary eyed. You bit your lip as they started to come down your face. “I’m going to be the one getting comments all over social media about what a slut I am. Or about what an awful person I am. Or how I don’t deserve you because you’re fucking perfect.”

He sighed. “And I’ll be there to support you through all of it. Baby, I would never let anyone hurt you. Or disrespect you.”

“It doesn’t matter. They still will.”

“Hey,” he said, hugging you again not caring as you tried to push him away. Instead this time he held you cradling you in his arms because if you were crying he was going to hold you. “Tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not that, Chris, I’m just scared.” You finally gave in. Clinging to him. What was the point of fighting when you just wanted him more than anything anyway.

“Hey, Buddy,” the club owners voice broke through your moment, making you feel like you were going to jump out of your skin, “no touching the dancers.”

Chris retracted his arms. “Sorry. I slipped and he caught me,” you lied. “He was just making sure I was okay.”

Of course he didn’t believe that. Looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Someone heard yelling in the next room. Sounded like someone was upset.”

“No I’m fine. We were just talking,” you said hoping that it didn’t show that you’d been crying. “I promise.”

“Fine, but keep your hands to yourself in my club, Pal.”

As soon as he left Chris sat down, pulling you into his lap. “So what do we do. Ball is in your court,” he said.

“I wanna be with you. I’m just... scared.”

He sighed. “Okay, well we don’t have to tell anyone right away. I just know that I’m crazy for you, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the side of your head. “Totally and completely crazy.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “I missed you, too,” you confessed.

“Yeah? What about this boyfriend I heard about?”

You tilted your head. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The bouncer said you had a boyfriend so you didn’t give lapdances.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “That’s just what we tell them when we’re not in the mood.” He laughed kissing your forehead. “Or maybe I do have a boyfriend?”

“You want me to be your boyfriend?” He bit his lip. His heart was racing fast then.

“Maybe.” You smiled trying to play it off all I’m

“Maybe, but... I’m...” you pulled away from him only to cross your arms all self consciously again.

“Talk to me, Honey.”

You rolled your eyes. “You think you’re so funny.”

He chuckled. “I like it.” He grabbed your hand so you could sit with him. Making you perch on his lap. “Talk to me.” He pushed a piece of the pink wig out of your face.

“I’m still scared.”

“And, I’ll be there to beat up anyone who wants to talk shit.” Chris held you as close as he could needing to feel you against him. “So, do you like stripping?”

You shrugged. “It’s fun and it pays the bills.”

“Do you want to keep doing it?” He asked.

“I mean... maybe,” you replied. Sort of afraid to say the wrong thing. It’s not that you think Chris wasn’t pro sex work, but that didn’t mean he had to be okay with his girlfriend doing it.

“Baby, if you’re worried about money, I don’t mind helping out.”

“I know,” you said.

“And if this is something you want to do, I’m okay with that, too. I don’t care what anyone says.”

You smiled before kissing him. That had been all you needed to hear from him. Not that it would fix everything, but right now it was enough.

“Promise?”

“I swear on Dodger. So you know that means it’s pretty serious,” he replied. You chuckled and he kissed your lips this time. Craving you after spending way to long not being able to touch you. You were still tearing up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sniffled forcing a smile on your face. “So, I never gave you that lap dance.”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah. Baby, you don’t-“

You cut him off, putting your hand against his mouth. “I know I said I don’t give them, but I’ll make an exception for you.” You licked your lips, giving him this look that he’d recognized when you were trying to take his dick.

He glanced at the door first making sure no one could see them. Yeah it was just a lap dance, but he couldn’t promise that he would keep his hands to himself. You got up before leaning down to peck his lips.

“You can touch me however you want.” You started undoing your robe showing off the little costume you were wearing underneath.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he looked you up and down. As you removed the fabric that was keeping him from being able to see your full body. You turned around slowly giving him an eyeful of all that ass. He reached out to touch it.

“You like?” You asked all breathily, sitting back down on his lap with your back pressed towards his chest. You gyrated your hips feeling him get hard under you. His bulge pressing into your barely covered center.

He groaned into your ear. “Oh, I fucking love it.” He wrapped his arms around your his so tight. Helping you move. Making you mold into him a little deeper.

You bent your arm back so it was resting on the back of his head. He grabbed at your tits kissing your neck. As he pinched your nipple you let out a moan you didn’t hold in quick enough.

You put your hands on his thighs so you could brace yourself. Moving your hips in a circle so you were right on his dick. “Holy fuck,” he panted. You were driving him so crazy. He had to touch you. Had to feel how wet you were just for him.

He dipped his fingers into your panties. You were so wet he knew you were probably making a mess on his jeans. He didn’t give a fuck. All he wanted was to make you cum. He missed you to much to care if your pussy made a mess on him.

You had to cover your mouth this time because he’d started rubbing your clit. All soppy and wet. Your hips faltered especially as he lifted up your leg so his other hand could finger your pussy.

“Oh, my god.” You cried into your hands before falling back against him again. You uncovered yourself so you could kiss him instead. Pressing a hungry kiss to his mouth.

It was too much. Him doing both at the same time. You were trying to hold your moans in, but it was hard which is why his kiss just got deeper. Your cunt felt like it was weeping from what he was doing to you. It was way too much.

You were so damn tight. Like he’d dipped his fingers in velvet. While he rubbed your clit. You couldn’t hold your noises in, making you pull him away from him. He stared at you with a smile on his face because you looked so pretty all desperate. “You wanna cum for me?” He asked into your ear. “Wanna cum for Daddy?”

You whimpered, but still nodded because he was right you were so damn close. Hips still angled so you could feel his bulge underneath you. You needed it inside of you so bad.

You grabbed at his cock through his jeans. Needing to feel it in your hands. “You want this, huh. I could take you home and fuck you like a proper girl, but you want me to dick you down at work like a slut,” he said whispered in your ear, taking the hand that was rubbing your clit away so he could stuff his fingers in your mouth.

You moaned around them. Tasting yourself. Moaning as he found your g-spot while he still fingered you. You cried out as he made you cum all over his hand. Eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“That’s it, Baby. Make a mess for me. I want everyone to know when I leave who makes you cum.” He moved to your clit now rubbing it just the way you liked it was driving you crazy.

When your orgasm finally subsided, you got up so you could turn around in his lap. Now that you were facing him he kissed you hard. Grabbing at your ass.

You moved your hips. Looking down at the wet spot you’d left on jeans. “Oh, Daddy,” you whimpered. “You feel so good.”

“That’s it, Honey.”

You chuckled. “You think you’re so fucking funny.”

He laughed reaching between you so he could finally start to undo his pants. “What it’s cute.”

When you finally got to sink down on his dick, you cried out. You felt so full. Like he’d filled you to the brim.

You tossed your head back with your eyes screwed shut as he lifted you up and down his dick. It felt so damn good. You needed it so badly. Needed him to fill you up with his cum.

“You look at me when I fuck you,” he demanded. Grabbing a fistful of pink hair so you were forced to look at him. You opened your eyes so they could meet his. Biting your lip to keep for being too loud again. “This is my pussy don’t you ever forget it.”

“Yes, Daddy. It’s yours,” you breathed trying to not be too loud. “I don’t let anyone else touch me like you do.”

“Yeah?” He asked. “That’s my good fucking girl.” He groaned.

“You’re gonna make me cum again,” you cried because he was so damn thick.

“Cum for me,” he said into your ear making you tingle.

You buried your head into his shoulder as you did. With your pussy walls gripping him like that you couldn’t stop yourself as you started to milk him. Triggering his own orgasm as he captured your lips in another kiss.

“You two, out!” Your bosses voices almost made you jump out of your skin.

“No I’m okay!” You said. “He, um...” you tried to think of a lie. “Because he paid so much I...”

“I’m not running a brothel here.” He glared at you. “You get your shit and get out of my club. Honey, you’re fired.”

He was waited for you outside. Leaning against his Camero. You’d changed back into your sweats. He smiled seeing your normal hair. That bright makeup wiped off. Sad because he was actually really enjoying see you all overly sexed up. “Guess you don’t have to worry about dating a stripper anymore.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said before kissing you.

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shrug.

“Why don’t you come live with me? You won’t have to worry about rent. Or anything.” He chuckled.

“You wanna be my sugar daddy?” You laughed.

“No. I mean sure, but I wanna be your boyfriend. Do things like protect you and take care of you. Is that okay?”

You looked up at him through your eyelashes. “You have to promise me something first,” you said.

“Anything,” he said, grabbing your hands so he could pull you to him.

“Just when the news hits over us, you’ll fight for me. Won’t let your crazy fans treat me to badly.”

He chuckled. “I will personally tell off every single one of them.” He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Want me to take you home?”

“Yeah I got picked up by one of the girls,” you said. “My place or yours?”

He chuckled. “Ours.” He smiled before kissing you softly.

#Chris Evans smut #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black woman #chris evans x black!reader

578 notes · View notes

valeskakingdom · 3 years

Note

since we were talking about candy in the groupchat, what about jerome and reader being at the circus or a festival and reader insisting on trying every candies and snacks? or maybe that would be jerome? haha (of course, ignore if you want to! :))

No it's alright! I think I do it before Jerome became crazy tho. Still I think I mention the abusive relationship and the big hatred Jerome feels for her. Get ready for a little surprise ahaha!

This time it's a very short one tho (my opinion)

Credit: @daily-joker

Jerome x Reader

Warnings: short mention of violence and abuse, otherwise none

Word count: 2139

It was 4ish in the afternoon.

You were excited - finally you see your lover again: the ginger circus boy Jerome Valeska. He meant everything to you, you couldn't without him. In your opinion you and him had almost the perfect relationship. You've never argued, you supported each other, helped each other... It was magical. Both of you, Jeromeor you, could never think it. You and arguing? About what? There was nothing to argue about. You know he would never cheat on you, nor would you. Your feelings for each other were way to strong.

But yes, as you've heard - your relationship was almost perfect.

The crux of the matter were your habits. You lived in a small apartment near the Narrows with a non exciting view to the outside - you just saw damaged houses, trash filled the streets, and just a few people walked outside.

And Jerome - he lived at the circus. Always travelling, always far away from you. Just at the beginning of spring you were able to see him, otherwise you were required to send letters - and you did it, day by day until you both knew everything about each other. You knew, he didn't like the circus - mainly because of his mother Lila Valeska, the snake dancer. In your opinion, she was a whore who abused his own flesh and blood. She was beating Jerome, yelling and punishing him for nothing. It made you cry, thinking your love of your life was living in such horrible conditions. Several times you offered him to live with him but he always declined. He said if he left his mum would find him and kill him. Then you offered him to move to the circus but even that he declined. He said he couldn't forgive himself if his mother laid a finger on you - kind of understandable.

***

You made your way quick to the circus. You didn't want to waste your time, you couldn't wait any longer to see you. You wanted to hug him, kiss the shit outta him, wanted to smell on his cologne that smelled like a mix of candies and the classy men perfume. It satisfied all your senses, you were literally addicted to it.

After you quickly parked in front of the circus, you made your way fast to enter it. You didn't even need to buy a ticket, every artist knew you as Jerome pretty little doll. That was the nickname he usually gave you when he was non stop talking about you.

On the entrance, you saw the Ringmaster seemingly looking for something. His head permanently moved from one side to another and he had a questioning look on his face. It changed though as he saw you. A little smile went over his face and waved at you, he had some empathy for you which was not natural.

"Great to see you (Y/n)."

"Thank you," you gave him a warm smile "Was just looking for Jerome."

"Might be in his trailer. Probably arguing with his mother again. I heard them yelling." He shrugged clueless.

You just sighed in response, you knew what that meant. You'd find Jerome being beaten up in his room, his pretty face was covered in bruises and he'd try to overplay everything although he'd love to cry into your shoulder.

Immediately, you made your way to his trailer, almost running. You hoped he was fine and nothing that bad has happened yet.

Your feeling was wrong.

You saw him sitting in front of the trailer. He was crawled into himself like a little girl that was scared of getting punched but one of its parents again - what a cliche.

You couldn't see whether he was crying yet or not - you just hoped he didn't.

You hope was all gone as you came nearer, you heard him sobbing and sniffing. Fuck, you thought. Your felt sorry for him, you couldn't stand him being so sad. It made you sad, you just wanted to cry. You couldn't see him like that. Your heart felt heavy, breathing became a burden, pins and needles were all over your skin, tears were built up in your eyes at you were trying to hold back.

"Jerome-" Your breathe hitched as he looked up at you - his eyes were puffy and red from crying and his face...oh lord. He had a black eye, a red swollen lip with a bloody cut You almost didn't date to ask. You knew he didn't like taking about it "Wha-what has happened?"

"Had a little argument with my mum and her one off bozo." He shrugged sniffing and looked at the ground.

You couldn't understand Lila, you couldn't understand anybody who ever abused someone like that. Did they have fun destroying someone's life?! Did she love seeing her son hurt?

Saying nothing you took a seat next to him. You took his hand tangling your fingers in your and rubbed circles with your thumb slowly as you rested your head on his shoulder. You tried to calm him down with that. You knew words were useless. You could start this typical encouragement like everything's gonna be better bla bla. You and he knew it was not true and making him falso hope wouldn't help at all.

You both said nothing for a while. You gave him time to clear his head that he could calm down. You didn't want to annoy him with any stupid words or thoughts as well.

"I wanna kill her." Jerome said all of a sudden "She should feel the pain she causes me."

You gulped in surprise. You've never heard him saying like this before, he sounded so serious about it what kinda scared you. Was he serious about it? No he wasn't, right? Jerome was too adorable to be a criminal. He was surely just upset about the stuff his mother does to him and he doesn't know what he's sayinh.

"I just can offer you to stay with me, Jerome. You'd be save, no mother, no violent bozos. There'd be just you and me."

"Soon I will. I promise." He wiped his tears from his cheeks.

"Just say a word and I help you packing." You just kissed his cheek give him a little smile. It was the first time he said this. Now you were assured he really wanted to do all these things you've planned once: Living together, a wedding, kids.

Jerome looked at you now. His gaze met yours, a small smile was built up in his actually face. He was relieved. He was thankful you offered him a place to say although the he permanently denied it. He was thankful to have you by his side. You were his only supporter, and the most intense one.

"I love you," Jerome grabbed your cheeks softly and pulled you into a deep kiss. You couldn't help but smile as your lips touched softly.

"I love you, too." You said against his lips with a smile making him smile, too. You were thinking now. What could you do to make him feel better? Sex was no option for you - well, not right now. You wanted to give him the feeling of freedom, that he could do what he wanted or that he could be a normal teenager like you. You wanted to do something stupid with him. Something like buying tons of food like trying to win the biggest soft animal or taking silly photos of each other. You just wanted to see him happy again.

Then you had an idea.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him after you while you both stood up. Probably that was gonna be one of your most stupid ideas but it was fun. It was childish. Maybe he would even call you dumb but you didn't care. You just wanted to make him love and letting him forget all his problems.

"What are you doing?" Jerome frowned as he wiped the last few tears out of his face.

"I wanna cheer you up, silly." You giggled and kept walking "Have you ever eaten every sort of candies here Or every snack you can buy here?"

"What?"

"Yes or no?"

"Uhm...no? What are you-..."

"Time for changes." You smirked "We now go buy every single candy and every kind of fast food they offer here. Then we go out anywhere and eat them all up and vote what's the best and the worst one."

"Are you serious?" Jerome asked on disbelief.

"I'm anything but joking." You stopped walking giving him a stern look "So you're in?"

"I don't know," Jerome shrugged with a sigh "I'm just not in the mood for anything."

Instead of saying something, you pulled him into a tight hug and buried your face into the crook of his neck. At first, he didn't hug you back, just stood there; sad, unmotivated, pissed. You didn't mind about it. You could understand how he felt. Being beaten up and insulted almost every day had to be horrible. It was a living hell.

After a few minutes though, you felt Jerome slowly wrapping his arms around. His head was leaned against yours, one of his hands was placed on the back of your head and his fingers were tangled in your hair. You felt how he pulled you more against him. He needed you, more than before - more than anything right now.

"I hate seeing you like that, Jerome." You mumbled "I just want you to be happy or at least forget all these bad things for a moment. I know it's hard, but I just wanna help you, okay?"

"I know...thank you for that." Jerome kissed your head, then looked at you giving you a little smile making you smile, too.

"Anytime for you," You pecked his lips "So...does that mean you're in?"

"Do we really have to eat all candies?"

"Yes! That's the fun on it," You chuckled "How about we rate the candies? Criteria are taste and consistence. C'mon that'll be fun!"

"Fineee." He rolled his eyes with a slight laughter. You were glad. You were glad seeing him smiling, hearing him laughing a little. His eyes weren't full of tears anymore, he didn't look sad not like he was about to have a nervous break down. He looked like the funny and happy Jerome you got to know.

***

"What about Twinkies?" You ask as you and Jerome took a bite in it as you both sat n the back seats of your car. You really did it. You bought every candy that existed at the circus. Pop tarts, Nerds, Sour Patch, Twizzlers...everything.

In your eyes it was a good idea doing that. Not because you were obsessed with candies, you just wanted to distract Jerome - and it worked. He was laughing more, he was making jokes, making you smile. Exactly how you wanted it.

"I would say...hm...taste is 7 out of 10, consistence 8." Jerome said thinking "Makes 7.5"

"I agree," You said giving him the cotton candy "Now let's try this." You both took a bite in it.

"Taste is 8 out of 10, consistence is...6."

"Really? Just a 6? It's an 8 as a minimum." You frowned in disbelief. He can't be serious, can he?

"It's too fibrous."

"Well, that's the sense of cotton candy." You rolled your eyes "You aren't a cotton candy type, are you?"

"I just don't like this one. Its just made bad," He grabbed the pop tarts opening them "Now let's try these." And again you both took a bite in it.

"Fight me but 10 out of 10! Both criteria!" You insisted instantly.

"Agreed." Jerome nodded "I think they are my favorites."

"Hm," You pursed your lips thinking "I can't decide between Twizzlers and Pop Tarts." You really couldn't. You loved the frosted chocolate in Pop Tarts, and oh the cookie! The cookie was amazing. But Twizzlers... You loved the strawberry flavor. It was perfect! Not too sour, not too sweet, not bitter. Both were your favorite flavors.

"Let's try them again." Jerome eagerly grabbed the Twizzlers pack and ate some "Definitely Pop Tarts."

"Are you sure? They are both so... delicious and-..."

"I'm more than sure," Jerome interrupted me with a slight chuckle "Trust me, Pop Tarts are the best."

"Okay fine, Pop Tarts are the winner." You smirked eating up the rest of Pop Tarts. You admitted, he was right. Pop Tarts ARE the best.

"By the way," Jerome started scratching his head "Thank you."

"Anytime." you smiled kissing his soft and red lips. You accomplished what you wanted - he was happy again because of your silly idea "And next time we rate fast food."

"I'm in."

172 notes · View notes

flourgirl · 4 years

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

----------------

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

----------------

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

----------------

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

----------------

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

----------------

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

----------------

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

----------------

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

----------------

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

----------------

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

----------------

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

Baked With Love

Here it is, the promised 8k of pure tooth-rotting fluff

Find it on AO3 here

In all the time that Reki had known Langa, he had never seen him hesitate. From that first day when Langa had taped his feet to a skateboard, he had always jumped headfirst into whatever it was that he wanted to do. He had never hesitated, always going for it and hoping for the best, so seeing him stare between the two jars he had placed on the table, brows furrowed and frowning, it was strange and somewhat endearing. Langa who never cared for consequences was hesitating between two jars of flour, face pulled in concentration rather than his usual spacey and lost expression.

“Dude, they’re both just flour,” Reki said, his chin resting on his folded arms against the kitchen table across from Langa. Both jars had been marked “flour,” but Langa insisted that there was a difference between them. He insisted that his mother used one for her baking while the other was kept for normal cooking.

“I know there’s a difference,” Langa said, brows still pinched, nose scrunching as he groaned. “They’re not the same. They can’t be.”

“Again, we’re just making cookies. Flour is flour and that’s all we need. Doesn’t have to be that baker’s fancy stuff.”

Langa sighed, finally settling for the jar on his right. “If you say so.”

“And I do. I guess you can say I’m a bit of an expert at making cookies.”

Reki grinned, laughing to himself as Langa nodded. Despite it being more of a joke than anything, Langa did trust Reki when it came to baking cookies. He had made hundreds if not thousands of them in his life and Langa always loved watching him whenever he would make. Langa had always been very vocal about his adoration of watching Reki work, be it in his workshop or in the kitchen. And, despite his burning face at the endless praise, Reki always loved the company. He loved having someone with him as he rambled away, his hands doing all the work.

While Reki loved baking with his sisters, it wasn’t the same as when it was just him and Langa. With his family, they were always bustling around the kitchen, bumping into each other, fighting to see who would break the egg – Koyomi won most of the time – and arguing about who would get the bowl and who would get the spoon once the cookies had been put to bake – the twins more often than not shared the bowl while Koyomi and Reki split what was left on the spoon. With his sisters, it was screams and giggles and grabbing at each other. And it was a lot of cleaning, which Reki found himself doing alone most of the time. Baking with his sisters was giving his mother a break, letting her sit down for an hour without worrying about the twins getting bored or asking for her attention. Baking with his sisters was just another activity he did with his family, being the good big brother he knew he had to be. Baking with his sister was Reki trying his best to be a good son, even if he would have rather be in his room or out skating with Langa.

But baking with Langa, it was calm and intimate, a little slice of heaven. It was quiet, low sunlight filtering into the kitchen as Langa sat on the counter, his legs swinging as he listened to Reki’s chatter with a content smile. Baking with Langa was muffled giggles and kisses in the middle of the night, with only the refrigerator light to light up their world. Baking with Langa was just… sweetness and domesticity. It always left Reki with a lightness in his heart, with the wish of baking cookies for Langa for the rest of his life.

Yet tonight, Reki was banned from working in the kitchen. Langa had insisted that he would be the one making the cookies all on his own. “You’re always making things for me,” he had said when Reki got ready to get to work. “I want to make something for you. I want to make these cookies for you, all on my own.”

And his face had glowed the moment Reki nodded, letting himself be pushed into the chair facing the kitchen. Langa, always so serious or spacey Langa, beautiful Langa with his boyish grin and his big, shiny blue eyes, had rarely seemed so excited. It wasn’t the same excitement as when he was on a skateboard, trying out new tricks or going up against strong skaters. Reki couldn’t quite explain the difference, but it was there. Langa seemed genuinely excited, not calculating in his excitement or expecting anything. It was an excitement that had a thousand butterflies blossom in Reki’s chest and stomach. It was an excitement that had him falling even more in love with Langa, childish, happy, and excited Langa.

“So, where do I start?”

Reki buried his face in his arms to muffle his laughter. He shouldn’t have been laughing – he knew Langa must have been pouting, not liking being laughed at – but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it, even if he knew it wasn’t nice to be laughing at someone who was trying so hard to do something new, something nice, something for Reki, but then he was looking so cute, staring at Reki so expectantly, waiting for his instructions. Langa was waiting for Reki to guide him around his own kitchen. Langa always waited for Reki to explain to him new things.

“First things first-” Reki got up from his chair, laughter still lingering in his voice as he made his way to his boyfriend, his fingers slipping between the long, slender fingers he adored- “we tie your hair. I refuse to eat blue cookies.”

Langa tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong with blue cookies? Sure, they look weird and- yeah, the person who made them was weird too, now that I think about it. Weird shit used to happen all the time in that school.”

Reki furrowed his eyebrows as he dragged Langa to the chair in which he had been sitting. “I meant your hair, dude. What the hell is a blue cookie? And why have you seen one? What kind of weird shit went down in Canada?”

Langa shrugged as he took a seat. “Public school. Was weird as fuck sometimes.”

Reki shook his head. There was no point in asking about that. From what he understood about Canadian public schools, it was a free-for-all of kids. From kids writing in sharpie on the floor next to the lockers to kids walking around with a bunch of stickers in their faces, things just sounded so weird. That and there was absolutely no consensus on how the education system worked throughout the country (something about provinces?) or even a consensus on language. Canada was weird, from what Reki understood. And the more Langa talked about whatever he saw, the more Reki felt terrified of Canadian kids.

Langa let himself be backed into the chair, trusting Reki as he always had. He only raised an eyebrow as Reki settled in his lap. But as soon as fingers were running through his hair, pulling it back to assess the situation, Langa melted, his head falling back with the motion. A content smile appeared on his pretty lips as his eyes shut.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, dude.”

“M’not…”

Reki chuckled, still racking his fingers through the silky blue hair. With Langa not paying attention to what he was doing, Reki knew he had free reign. He could do whatever he wanted with Langa’s hair, from childish pigtails like the twins to a low and messy ponytail to… well, whatever Reki wanted, really. And with that many choices, Reki hesitated. On one hand, he could make a fool out of Langa and laugh a little at him (not in a mean way! Just in a Langa-would-look-funny way), while on the other hand, he could try something new, something that would take time, more time for his fingers to be playing with every strand of hair, more time for him to be this close to Langa.

With a little contemplation and quick attempts to see what would hold Langa’s hair best, Reki settled on braiding. If done correctly, it would hold Langa’s hair back, keeping his bangs out of his face while he baked, and it would mean that Reki would have his fingers tangling with Langa’s hair longer than if he just pulled it back in a half ponytail. Reki had done enough braids in his life to know that they took more time and patience than ponytails or pigtails. He knew that Langa would melt under his touch, sighing contently as his hair was being played with, twisted into a braid.

Reki shifted in Langa’s lap, frowning and huffing as he let the hair fall from his fingers. Initially, getting comfortable on Langa’s lap had been an act of petty revenge, hoping to get him to blush the same way Reki had when Langa crashed on his lap a few days prior, but clearly, it hadn’t worked. Langa was just too cool for all of Reki’s tactics at making him feel embarrassed. Langa never turned red, except on rare occasions like when he first told Reki that he liked him or when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time. Langa was too cool for blushing, which Reki found terribly unfair, given how easy it was to get him to blush. Just a smile of Langa’s could get him to flush, nerves twisting in his stomach.

No matter how he looked at it, there was no way Reki was getting any work done from that angle. Not only was Langa extremely distracting, but there was also no good way to braid his hair back without being behind him. So Reki got up only to be pulled back down, Langa’s eyes snapping wide open, hands gripping Reki’s hips.

“Where you going?”

“I can’t tie your hair like this, you clingy baby. I’m not going far if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“But you’re warm. Don’t go away?”

Reki chuckled as he tapped Langa’s nose. “You’re so clingy, you know that?” Langa’s pout was one of the cutest things Reki had ever seen. Langa’s childish dramatic displays were just so fun, so different from how he acted when his walls were up. “But I really gotta get up, dude. Otherwise, you’re never gonna get to those cookies.”

Langa finally gave in, grumbling a little as his grip on Reki loosened, just enough for him to slip away. His sour mood quickly faded away as Reki’s fingers found their way back into his hair, his content smile reappearing, his eyes falling shut once more. Langa might have been too cool to blush, but he still had his weaknesses.

Reki hummed as he twisted the blue hair away from Langa’s face, a braid on each side of his head before coming together in a ponytail at the back of his head. Strands poked out from the braids, too short to be braided back smoothly, but they held rather well as Reki tied them off with one of the many colorful elastics that decorated his wrists.

Those were a courtesy of Koyomi, an annoying little sister who always forgot to tie her hair until it was too late. After a few times of hearing her complain, Reki had gotten into the habit of carrying a few elastics around, which seemed to come in handy for everyone with relatively long hair around him. At first, he had stored them in his bag, then they had migrated to his pockets until they found their way around his wrists. Now, he was just known as that guy that carried hair ties around, which the girls in his class seemed to really take advantage of, asking him for elastics whenever they needed some. And Reki didn’t mind helping out, though it was a little annoying to never get them back. There were certain colors that he really liked having as they matched his hoodies, not that he would tell anyone that.

After one last assessment of his work, Reki grinned as his chin dropped onto Langa’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, his arm draped over Langa’s other shoulder, slightly crouched, but if it meant he could be close to Langa, then it was worth it.

“All done.”

Langa shifted ever so slightly, just enough to be looking at Reki rather than at the kitchen sink. He was smiling, that pretty smile that Reki loved so much.

“You should play with my hair more often.”

A light chuckled rumbled through Reki as he pressed a kiss to Langa’s shoulder. “You really like that, don’t you?”

“It feels nice. You’re good with your hands.”

It was an innocent remark. Reki knew that it had to be, because if it was Langa, there was no other option. There weren’t any dirty undertones to the remark, he knew that, but that didn’t stop the blush from exploding under Reki’s skin. There wasn’t any kind of raunchy joke in what Langa was saying, yet Reki still felt the twist in his gut as he straightened out, brushing off dust that he knew wasn’t there and tugging on the hem of his hoodie. Nervous laughter bubbled out of him, his eyes refusing to focus on anything.

“Right! Okay! So those cookies!”

Langa slowly turned to Reki, eyebrows pinches as he stared blankly. He hadn’t meant it like that, Reki knew that. Langa didn’t have a dirty mind. Langa was a good boy. Langa had never made a sex joke as far as Reki was aware, which meant that he wasn’t going to start now. Especially not when he was staring at Reki, looking so confused.

“What…?” His eyes snapped open, wider than Reki had ever seen in his life. His pale cheeks and ears turned a bright red as he waved his hands around frantically. “Wait! No! I didn’t mean-! I mean, I don’t know, but-!” Langa froze, his eyes squeezing shut as he tensed. He ducked his head as he always did when he embarrassed himself, but his bangs didn’t fall over his eyes as they usually did. There was no curtain protecting him from the outside world as he sat there, curled up on his chair, nails digging into the wood and his face pinched.

With a deep breath, Reki regained his composure. There was still that twist in his gut, that uncertainty, but he wasn’t going to let it linger. Not when Langa was so tense, looking so horrified by his accidental remark.

“S’okay, dude.” Langa’s eyes slowly fluttered open as Reki stroked his cheek tentatively, smiling softly at him. “It’s okay, I know what you meant. I just… I know.”

Despite the verbal reassurance, Langa did not relax. His nails still dug into the wooden chair, his ankles curling around one of the legs of the chair. He seemed so stiff that Reki couldn’t help but press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Reki knew that he didn’t do it enough, that he didn’t initiate enough kisses or cuddles or anything remotely romantic. He always waited for things to happen, never chasing them, and Reki knew that Langa would have liked him to be a little less tense, a little less hesitant, a little less scared. It wasn’t on Langa to start everything, even if Reki was scared. Even if he was terribly afraid of doing something wrong. So maybe that was why he had pressed a kiss to Langa’s mouth, the touch making the boy melt against him, tension fading away slowly.

“Don’t worry about it. Really.” A small smile traced Langa’s lips as Reki pressed another quick peck to his mouth. “But you really should get back to those cookies. You know, if you want them ready before next week?”

Langa’s fingers curled around Reki’s, cold winter against Reki’s natural summer heat.

“Can you… Can you help me a bit?”

Reki nodded enthusiastically as he pulled Langa off his chair. It was so easy to grin around him, natural as breathing. And Reki loved helping. He loved feeling useful to those he cared about. He loved feeling like others could count on him, no matter what. So whatever Langa needed, Reki would be there. Whatever Langa needed him to do, Reki would do it with a grin.

“So, first step is,” Langa stared at his phone, scrolling up and down on the cookie recipe he had found earlier, “heat the oven.”

Reki leaned against the table and watched as Langa fiddled with the buttons and knobs of the oven, his whole face pinched in concentration. Reki felt the tightness in his chest, the butterflies crashing and fluttering against his heart. He felt all his emotions bubbling up in him, ready to spill out, spill until all he knew was Langa’s adorable concentrated expression, spill until all he knew was the sweetness of Langa’s chewed lips, spill until all he knew was Langa. Langa with his serious focus, messing with the oven as if it were a time machine that required the utmost precision to avoid the collapse of the whole universe.

“So, now that that’s done,” Langa straightened out and turned back to Reki, pulling his phone out once more to check the recipe, “we need to start mixing things.”

“Did you read the whole paragraph before starting?”

“Yes.” A beat of silence. Langa glanced down at this phone, eyes skirting over the screen as he quickly scrolled down before bouncing back up to find Reki’s. “Yes, I did.”

Laughter broke from Reki’s lips as he made his way next to Langa, shoulders bumping against each other. “Alright, you tell me what you want me to do and I’m on it.”

One by one, Langa listed off the ingredients that he needed. Reki made his way around the kitchen, opening cabinet after cabinet, trying his best to find where most of the ingredients were hidden. This wasn’t his kitchen; he didn’t know how Mrs. Hasegawa organized her kitchen, but he managed. The flour was already out, sugar had been found, eggs from the fridge, and all the extra little things that made cookies soft and sweet had been eventually spotted. One by one, all the ingredients that Langa had listed off found themselves on the table next to the bowl Langa had taken out earlier.

Reki slid back into his chair, chin resting on his folded arms against the table as he watched Langa measure his ingredients one by one. He read the amounts to Langa who seemed to struggle a little, spilling next to the measuring cups as he poured or splashing as he mixed with vigor. A literal child in the kitchen, but Reki didn’t have the heart to get him to calm down. He seemed to be having so much fun, his blue eyes sparkling like snowflakes under the warm afternoon sun. As long as he wasn’t the one stuck wiping everything down, Reki would let Langa be, let him have fun with his messy attempt at making cookies.

“Dude!” Reki coughed, waving his hand around. “Be more careful with the flour! That shit is volatile!”

“I didn’t think-!” Langa scrunched his nose before sneezing into his arm. “I didn’t think it would explode like that! It doesn’t do that in movies!”

The white cloud fluttered around before falling onto the counters and floor, snowfall right there in the kitchen. The impromptus blizzard had Reki chuckling and rubbing at his nose.

“Watch a cooking show and you’ll see you’re supposed to be careful with your ingredients, man.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t go looking for things that don’t exactly interest me. And all you send me are skating vids, so maybe this is on you. Maybe you,” Langa’s blue eyes narrowed onto Reki, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “should start sending me baking videos instead.”

A sly smirk pulled at the corner of Reki’s mouth as he flicked more flour in Langa’s direction. Langa yelped, sneezing again.

“Maybe I will; no more skating for you until you learn how to be careful with flour.”

Langa shook his head, rolling his eyes and rubbing the flour out of his nose, but he didn’t bother concealing his pretty smile. “Pass me the chocolate.”

Reki slid the bag across the table, but not without stealing a handful of chocolate chips which he immediately stuffed in his mouth. Langa raised an eyebrow at him as he poured into the bowl a lot more chocolate chips than he was probably supposed to, but then again, when was there ever too much chocolate?

“Those are for the cookies, Reki.”

“C’mon! It’s chocolate! You know I never have at home.”

Langa gave the batter a mix, trying to spread the chocolate chips equally throughout the dough. Reki stretched over the table, stealing some of the cookie dough and plopping it in his mouth before Langa could swat him with the wooden spoon he was using.

“Stop stealing my cookies! And stop complaining. You have a bunch of sweet at your place.”

“Never for long.” Reki licked his thumb, getting the last of the dough he had managed to grab. “Everyone hogs them, so I barely get any.”

“I buy you sweet almost every day.”

“A personal choice?”

Reki almost missed the eyebrow raise and the playful smile as Langa turned on his heel, fetching two spoons from a drawer. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“What?” Reki took advantage of Langa’s turned back, stealing more cookie dough. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but raw cookie dough was just too good to pass up. “Never!”

Langa sighed as he came back to his bowl. Reki had successfully taken more dough, but he had left so much evidence that it was impossible for Langa to not know.

Giggles broke from Reki’s lips as he covered his head with his arms, ducking for coverage as Langa hit him repeatedly with his wooden spoon.

“Stop stealing my cookies!”

“Then stop leaving it unattended, dude! And pass the chocolate, I want more.”

Langa huffed, (sorta) gently smacking Reki on the head one last time before handing him the bag of chocolate chips. “Just don’t eat them all. My mom likes having some with her lunches and I don’t want to be scolded when she inevitably believes that I am the one who ate them all.”

Quiet calm fell back in the kitchen, Reki plopping chocolate chip after chocolate chip into his mouth while Langa went over his recipe once more, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Reki watched as Langa muttered English words, his eyes glancing around the kitchen, pointing at everything he put into the dough. And once he seemed satisfied, he got to work, scooping the dough with his two spoons and desperately trying to make them into perfect little balls. Reki watched as Langa struggled, groaning every time he dropped a spoon or when the dough didn’t fall the way he wanted. It was a little sad, just watching him try so hard yet fail so miserably.

Reki felt Langa tense, his breath hitching, as Reki’s arms caging him against the table. His hands found Langa’s, warm palms guiding the repetitive motion of scooping dough with one spoon and scraping it off with the other, while his chin rested against Langa’s shoulder. And under his touch, Langa melted, leaning back into Reki, relaxing against his chest. And just like that, Reki was snuggling his boyfriend, smiling into his shoulder as he helped him prepare the cookies for the oven.

“It’s really just,” Reki did the motion once more, scoop and scrape, his fingers tightening around Langa’s. “Just like that. You don’t have to try to get them all round and cute. They’re gonna melt in the oven anyway.”

Langa huffed, but still, he turned his head just enough to press a kiss into Reki’s hair. “I know how to make cookies, you know. I’ve watched you make enough and it’s not the first time I’m making them.”

“Really?” Reki nuzzled Langa’s shoulder, muffling his giggles. “Because you’re really shit at this, dude.”

“Thanks. Not my fault I rather just buy them instead of struggling to make them.”

“Correction-” Reki pressed a kiss to Langa’s jaw, grinning into his skin- “you steal the cookies I have at home.”

Laughing came as natural as breathing when it came to Langa and his dramatics. Laughing was inevitable when he was whipping his head to the side to look at Reki, his eyes big and blue and bewildered. And when his voice was cracking, pitchy and funny, it was impossible to not laugh, happy and bright.

“You give those to me! And your mom insisted I bring home the last batch!”

“That’s not how I remember it going.”

“Well then, if you’re just going to insult me,” Langa shook Reki off, his arms falling to his side before looping around Langa’s waist, his whole body snuggling closer to his boyfriend’s, “you’re not having any of these.”

“You’re probably gonna end up eating them all anyway, dude.”

Langa huffed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. In fact,” Reki nuzzled Langa’s shoulder once more, bumping his nose against the skin right below Langa’s jaw, “if I remember correctly,” he grinned into the skin, “you said you loved me just yesterday.”

Langa’s hands froze mid-scoop, his whole body tensing against Reki. A wildfire ignited under his skin, the snow-white skin turning to a blaze. Wildfire like never seen before. Langa was too cool for blushing, at least until he was reminded of his sudden love declaration over a late-night meal, Reki offering him the remains of his fries.

Langa’s shoulders untensed, sagging a little as he returned to his cookie dough.

“I meant it,” he whispered, his voice a little scratchy, tainted with embarrassment. “I meant it when I said I love you.”

“I know.” Another smile was pressed onto Langa’s shoulder. “I know you mean it.”

“I love you, Reki.”

Reki’s heart flipped in his chest. Sure, he had brought it up to tease Langa, but hearing him say it again, it left Reki as big a mess as it did the night before. It left him with those thousands of butterflies in his chest and stomach; it left him with giggles threatening to break from his lips; it left him with an explosion of color in his face and ears. Because Langa loved him, truly and wholly, and he meant it. Langa had meant the words he said. He never would have said them if he hadn’t meant them. He wasn’t the type to say what Reki wanted to hear. Langa spoke honestly and freely, even if his words sometimes came out clumsily and tripping over each other.

“I know you do.”

Something squeezed in Reki’s chest as he squeezed Langa’s middle before peeling himself off of the boy. He had wanted to stay there, warm against Langa’s body as he worked methodically, scoop and scrape, but the tray had been filled, 24 cookies laying neatly before the two.

He watched as Langa made his way to the oven, carefully pushing the tray in without burning himself. He was beautiful like that, crouched in front of the oven, looking through the glass door. He was beautiful like that, his hair pulled back, strands starting to slip undone. Langa was beautiful in every way possible, no matter what he was doing. And Reki loved him. Reki loved him in every way possible. Reki loved him, loved his shaky hands, loved his funny concentrated faces, loved his blue silky hair, loved his impulsivity, loved his kindness, loved him from head to toe, inside and out. Reki loved Langa, but whenever the words started to form, they clogged in the base of his throat, refusing to come out. Saying I love you turned out to be a lot more difficult than he had anticipated.

“Don’t feel obligated to say it back,” Langa had said the night before, his face flushed as his fingers tangled with Reki’s on his lap. “Only say if when you feel like it. Take all the time you need. And,” his smile faltered for a moment, but as soon as those sky-blue eyes met Reki’s, the smile eased its way back onto Langa’s lips, “if you never feel like saying it back, that’s also okay. I don’t want you saying it because you feel like you have to. Only when it feels right. Say it back to me when you’ll mean it. Because I mean it. I mean it when I say I love you.”

Only when it feels right. When would that be? It always felt like the right moment, but at the same time, it never felt like the right moment. Saying I love you for the first time, it had to be special, didn’t it? It had to be something straight out of a Hollywood movie. It had to be grand gestures and memorable. But then again, Langa had said it in the dead of the night, in a shitty 24-hour burger joint, over a half-empty carton of fries that Reki had pushed his way. Yet his eyes had shined like a thousand snowflakes under the clear moonlight, blurting out that I love youbefore clasping his hands over his mouth. His cheeks had flushed as Reki felt everything inside him twist, scared and excited and, and… and in love. Langa was the one saying the magic words, but Reki was the one who was so madly in love at that moment. Or maybe they both were. Maybe that was why Langa was laughing, grinning, fingers intertwining with Reki’s as he said it slower this time, in a way that was so genuinely Langa. No grand gestures. No fireworks. Just Langa and Reki sunken in a shitty booth in the back of an empty restaurant, giggling and grinning and burning up.

“I guess that’s it for now.” Langa got up, brushing off the remaining flour that had clung to his jeans. “We just have to wait now?”

Something strummed through Reki’s entire body, contracting, squeezing, choking. I love you. It was there, hanging on his lips as he watched Langa straighten out, beautiful Langa with his gorgeous blue eyes skirting over the kitchen. It pounded against his chest as he really took in the scene: a messy kitchen, soft white noise bouncing against the windows, a beautiful boy leaning against a counter. It was there, everywhere. And it had Reki dreaming of a future, one with Langa in it, one where they would have a place all to themselves where they could bake cookies together and just be happy, infinitely happy, forever the two of them.

Reki knew he could be reckless. Not like Langa, but he didn’t care for the scrapes and bruises he’d get when he tried a new trick on his board. He was impulsive by nature. If he wasn’t held back, he would be on a constant shopping spree, adding even more colorful hoodies and t-shirts to his closet. Reki rarely thought things through to the end, but when it came to his heart, he was calculating to a fault. When it came to his heart, he got so caught up in his head that he lost all his impulsivity, all his recklessness. When it came to his heart, Langa had to be the first to act otherwise nothing would happen.

What was Reki afraid of? Everything. Nothing. If he acted on impulse, maybe he’d go too far, too fast. If he acted as reckless as he did when he skated, then maybe Langa would realize that he was too much. And what if what he did was weird? What would he do then? Reki had never been in a relationship, he didn’t know how he was meant to act. And asking Langa what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to act- no, that was too embarrassing. So he let Langa take the reigns on the relationship, even if he knew that Langa would have liked him to be just a little more assertive, just a little more sure of himself, just a little less afraid. He knew that it wasn’t right to have Langa make all the decisions for him, but Reki didn’t want to be pushy. At least, normally he didn’t like being pushy. But with I love you right on the tip of his tongue, love, desire hazing his mind, well…

“Hey.”

Langa jumped, his eyes growing three sizes as Reki pushed him into the counter, arms caging him once more, lips hovering over his. Langa’s breath was warm and uneven against Reki’s burning skin, something close to choked laughter. Langa was almost always the one initiating kisses and cuddles, but when Reki found the courage to act on his impulses, it always caught him off guard, leaving him a blushing mess.

“Hi?”

“You’re pretty, you know that?”

Langa relaxed, his shock starting to fade, unlike his blush. Arms circled around Reki’s waist, pulling him flush against Langa. Pretty laughter broke from his lips as they met Langa’s in a kiss.

“Is that so?” Langa said against Reki’s lips. “I don’t think you say it enough.”

They fit like the two last pieces of a puzzle, perfect against each other. With Langa’s arms around Reki’s waist and Reki’s arms around Langa’s neck, there was no leaving one another. Neither one was ready to let go, heads tilting to the side as the kisses left the realm of innocent pecks.

“You’re,” Reki gasped between kisses, “you’re so freaking beautiful. It’s,” another kiss, hot and wet, “it’s almost unfair.”

Langa was truly intoxicating, from the way his lips would quirk into a smile as he would press another kiss to Reki’s lips, slow and deep, to the way his fingers were fiddling with the stray threads on the hem of Reki’s hoodie. Langa was danger and Reki knew damn well that he was losing all his senses with every kiss that was pressed to his mouth. Langa was everything, good and perfect and so very hot.

It really didn’t take much for Reki to be breathless. All it took was a laugh of Langa’s, a touch of Langa’s, a kiss of Langa’s. Everything about Langa had him soaring high. Just one look with those heavy-lidded eyes, a flash of blue behind those long lashes, it was enough for Reki to lose himself completely to Langa. I love you.

“And you’re,” Reki laughed, panted, almost cried, “you’re so amazing. At absolutely everything.”

“Stop,” a kiss was pressed to the corner of Reki’s mouth, “stop talking.”

Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when Langa’s mouth was pressed to his once more, their warm breaths mixing. Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when Langa’s cold fingers were digging into Reki’s burning skin as he held him firmly against him. Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when Langa’s tongue was licking at the seam of his lips, pressing against his, swiping against the roof of his mouth. Reki didn’t need to be told twice, not when he was whimpering into Langa’s mouth, lost to his touch, to his kisses, to his love.

Strands of blue hair slipped through Reki’s fingers, slipping from the elastic as he fisted at it. And with the little tug, Langa’s breath hitched and he melted against Reki, his fingers digging deeper into his sides.

“You,” Reki ran his fingers through Langa’s hair, freeing it from its braids as Langa let out a choked-out moan, “you really like that.”

“No?” More choked-up sounds rang against Reki’s ear as he trailed kisses along Langa’s jaw, his fingers following the natural line of his spine. Another whine as fingers moved from Reki’s hip to his arm, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise, body curving under the touch. “Shut, shut up.”

“Make me.”

It had meant to be a joke, teasing and taunting, but as Langa’s ankle curled around Reki’s, flipping him and crashing his back into the counter, everything in Reki burned. His breath hitched, his heart hammering against his chest as Langa licked at his lips, biting his kiss-swollen lips, eyes darting down as he ran his thumb over Reki’s bottom lip.

“As you wish.”

His voice was raspy, low and… And as Langa’s fingers found their way under Reki’s chin, tilting his head up as he pressed their lips together, Reki felt himself slip. His arms tightened around Langa’s neck as Langa steadied him, hips flush as he held himself up against the counter. Langa. Always Langa. Langa with his addictive kisses. Langa with his sweet kisses. Langa who always knew exactly what he was doing. Langa who always knew exactly what he wanted. Langa who never hesitated. Langa that Reki loved so much. Langa that Reki loved most in the world.

“I,” Reki pulled back as Langa chased, another kiss cutting him off. “I love you.”

The words broke out before Reki could swallow them back, a whisper against Langa’s lips. Lips that froze, the next kiss never coming. A wave of anxiety crashed against Reki’s chest, choking him. Had he messed up? Langa had told him to shut up, but he didn’t. He kept talking because all he did was talk. He was always talking, talking too much when no one wanted to hear him. Reki didn’t know how to shut up and now he ruined a good moment because he just couldn’t hold his words back any longer.

“Really?”

Langa broke into a grin, his eyes twinkling with those blue snowflakes, and Reki couldn’t help the smile that grew against his lips. His voice had come out a few octaves higher, sounding so excited and happy. And as he glowed, shined, beautiful and overjoyed, Reki melted.

“Yeah, yeah, man. I mean,” there was laughter in his voice, lighter and higher than usual as he cupped Langa’s cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin, “yeah, I do mean it. I love you, Langa. Have for a long time.”

“I love you too. So, so much.”

Both broke into giggles against each other, wide grins pressed together in a poor attempt at a kiss. It was hard to kiss when they were both smiling so big, but it was even harder to pull apart. All Reki wanted was to be close to Langa, whispering “I love you” over and over against his boyfriend’s lips. All it took was saying once for Reki to want to say it over and over, every day until he couldn’t speak anymore. He was ready to say it now and forever.

Slow kisses filled Reki’s head and heart. There was no need to rush; they had forever, after all. There was need to be rushed and heated. Things could be taken one step at a time, slow and steady. They could enjoy the calm, peaceful moment, live blissfully in the present. And when Langa was touching him like that, his thumb rubbing comforting circled in the small of Reki’s back, it was wonderful. Peaceful and calm and so, so comforting. Nothing could pull them apart. Nothing could ruin-

Reki yelped as the smoke detector blared throughout the apartment. Langa scrambled away, muttering English curses under his breath as he opened every window in the room before pulling the oven door open to take out the burnt cookies.

Reki simply watched, frozen against the counter, his hand covering half his face. He felt the mixture of horror and laughter bubbling up in his chest as he watched Langa run around, controlling the situation. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the blaring alarm to shut off, the apartment plunged back into silence. And when Langa crashed next to Reki, elbows pressed into the counter and pushing his bangs away from his eyes as he huffed, Reki dropped his head onto Langa’s shoulder, moving closer.

“Well shit, man. Didn’t you put on a timer or something?”

Langa pursed his lips as he glanced at Reki. “I was going to. But then someone,” he flicked Reki’s forehead playfully, but Reki didn’t miss the blush creeping up his neck, “jumped me before I could. And then I forgot.”

Reki giggled into Langa’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle to hug him. When Langa put it like that, it was a little embarrassing. Reki who had always been so careful, who was always so calculating when it came to his heart, who was also always so caught up in his own head when it came to love and Langa, he had let himself get carried away. He had let himself get so carried away that the cookies had burnt. He was the reason their cookies were charred and good for the trash.

“Reki? Reki!” Reki glanced up at Langa who was shifting to face him. Langa held his face so gently, his thumb stroking Reki’s damp cheeks. “Reki, what’s wrong?”

“I burned your cookies,” Reki laughed. He felt the tears in the corner of his eyes, he felt them streaming down his cheeks, but they weren’t from sadness or distress, even if he was gasping, choking, hiccupping as Langa continued brushing the tears away. These were tears of laughter, purely joyful and ridiculous. “Your cookies burned because of me, man!”

“No, no, my love.” Langa peppered kisses all over Reki’s face, from his cheeks to his nose to his eyebrow to his forehead. “It’s not your fault, my love. I would have burned them regardless.”

Reki felt his heart flutter as he raised an eyebrow at Langa. “My love?”

Langa froze mid-kiss, his fingers going rigid against Reki’s cheeks as he tensed. “Too soon?”

Was it too soon? Reki shook his head. It absolutely was not too soon. Reki kept shaking his head, laughter sweet on his lips as he beckoned Langa closer.

“Never.”

It had always been a dream of Reki’s to be called “my love.” It was one of those things he had heard in movies and in tv shows when he was young, and ever since he had wanted to find himself someone who would call him all those cute pet names that they said in his mom’s shows. My love. Sweetheart. Darling. Honey. All those cute little pet names that would make his heart flutter when he thought of someone saying them to him.

With time, he had given up on that dream – “those are just for girls,” his friends had told a few years back when he had first expressed his desire to be called so – but hearing the pet name come out of Langa’s mouth, it had Reki’s heart soaring. They weren’t just for girls. It wasn’t just a stupid fantasy of his. It wasn’t because Langa was there, whispering his name followed by “my love” over and over into his skin, pressing kisses all over his face, damp cheeks and all.

When Langa’s lips met Reki’s in a kiss, it was sweet as ever. Langa’s arms found their home around Reki’s waist while Reki’s fingers fiddled with a stray lock of blue hair, their smiles pressed together. It was just so easy to be in love with Langa, beautiful Langa, beautiful Langa with his funny nose that would bump against Reki’s every time he would pull back to breath before pressing another kiss to Reki’s lips. Beautiful Langa who only seemed to only care for Reki. Beautiful Langa who called Reki his love and meant it.

“You’re,” Reki rubbed his nose against Langa’s affectionately, “you’re so shit at making cookies, you know that?”

Langa shut his eyes as he took a deep breath, his usual half-hearted annoyance appearing on his face. Reki chuckled against him, shaking the two ever so slightly. It was just so much fun to tease Langa, lovingly making fun of him.

“Ever the romantic, aren’t you?”

“You said you liked honesty, so I’m just being honest with you. You’re absolute shit at baking, man, but you’re my shitty baker.”

“Can’t,” Langa inhaled sharply, “can’t I have just one nice moment?”

Reki twirled a lock of Langa’s hair around his finger before pushing himself up, catching Langa’s lips in a kiss. “We are having a nice moment. You just don’t like that you’re finally bad at something.” Another short and sweet kiss was pressed to Langa’s lips. “But I still love you. I love you even if you would be an absolutely shitty househusband.”

“I would be-! Wait, backtrack.” Langa quirked an eyebrow as a sly smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You tell me you love me for the first time like 20, 30 minutes ago and you’re already thinking of marriage?” Reki gulped as Langa leaned in, close enough to feel his every short breath, but far enough to not be able to kiss him quiet. “Moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

“I-!�� Reki huffed, straightening himself out. He felt the burn in his ears and in his face, but he persisted. He was not going to be tongue-tied. “You know what? Yeah. I am. But only because you-” he jabbed Langa’s chest, Langa who was laughing so freely and prettily- “started it by saying you wanted to skate infinitely with me! So, who’s moving fast now, huh?”

“Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.”

“Excuse me?” Reki was taken aback by the statement, especially when the implication hit him like a truck. Or a car. He scrunched his nose, eyes narrowing onto Langa. “Well bold of you to assume I’d be the one proposing.”

“I confessed first!” Langa’s eyes were big and round as he held a hand to his heart. “And I said I love you first! The least you can do is… It’s the least you could do!”

“Fine!” Reki pushed himself up onto the counter, his legs dangling in the open air. His head fell to the side as he swayed side to side. A grin stretched across his face as he stuck his tongue out playful. “I’ll propose the day you manage to make me an amazing cookie. The best cookie I’ll ever eat.”

“Oh c’mon! Low blow,” Langa whined, all pouty and cute. “That’s gonna take forever, Reki.”

“Then start working on it, Pretty Boy.”

Langa huffed, peeling himself off of the counter only to squeeze his way between Reki’s knees. Determination sparkled in his eyes as his entire focus fixated on his boyfriend. His fingers dug into Reki’s thighs as the boy’s ankles hooked behind his back, pulling his hips into the counter. And as soon as Reki’s hands were cupping his face, all signs of a pout faded.

“You know what?” Reki hummed, playing with the blue bangs as he had the habit of doing. It kept his hands busy while he focused on his boyfriend’s moving mouth. “I’m gonna make you the best fucking cookie ever and then you’ll be stuck with me until the end of infinity.”

A smile pulled on the corners of Reki’s mouth as he leaned down, meeting Langa in the middle for yet another sweet kiss. He had lost count of how many they had shared in the past hour or so, but Reki couldn’t be bothered by that. When it was just him and Langa, it didn’t matter how many kisses were shared, as long as they could be close, smiling and having fun. But it definitely felt good to be able to kiss Langa so freely, alone in the apartment. There was nothing to worry about as Langa’s fingers dug into his jeans, pushing himself up, chasing Reki’s mouth every time he pulled back to laugh. There was nothing to worry about as his fingers raked through Langa’s hair, playing with the locks as he got to kiss his boyfriend. There was nothing to worry about, not even the thousands of butterflies that erupted in his stomach, not even the giggles that threatened to break from his lips, not even the clumsy attempts at copying Langa and the clumsier attempts at making Langa feel as good as he did. Reki didn’t have to worry about anything because Langa too seemed lost to his touch, to his kisses, to his love. Because just like Reki, Langa was in love.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed against Langa’s lips, pretty and pink and oh so sweet. “I can’t wait to love you forever.”

64 notes · View notes

trulivin · 4 years

Text

All I Want

A/N: Surprise surprise! I actually finished another request yay! So here you all are my JJ people. I would like to say this is a little deep I’d say. There is mentions of rape which was a little hard to write, and it’s centered around anxiety.

Both of those topics are serious matters of discussion and if anyone is in need of help speak up. It’s best to be heard and get help with whatever situation you find yourself in.

AND y’all I do NOT hate Drew whatsoever. He played a great Rafe. Honestly, love that man as much as Rudy (ok maybe not that much), but just wanted to point that out. It’s just the character so don’t give me shit about hating on Drew for all you Rafe fans out there lmao.

To the nonny who requested, I hope this is what you were looking for! As always please send feedback! Comment, like, etc. I’ll get another request done at some point so keep baring with me please.

JJ x Reader, Outer Banks

Warnings: mentions of rape and anxiety

*Credits go to original owner!*

It was a particularly warm day on the Cut when Y/N, JJ, and Pope were going to make a grocery delivery to the Figure Eight. Kie was off with John B and Sarah doing something probably more fun than delivering groceries, but Y/N had been kind enough to offer Pope some help, dragging her boyfriend along. JJ complained the entire way to Heyward’s.

“I don’t see why we have to help,” he whined as Y/N dragged him along. “It’s a perfect day to go surfing.” “Which we can do afterwards,” she said, tugging him along by his hand. JJ groaned, but ran into Y/N as she stopped. The tan girl turned to face him, placed both hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, and looked up at him through her long lashes, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“If you would stop complaining, we can do more than just surf later,” she drawled, standing on her toes to whisper in his ear. JJ practically melted as he felt her lips brush his ear and trace his skin. He leaned down trying to steal a kiss, but Y/N slipped out of his arms and ran down the dock with a giggle. “Seriously?” JJ called after her, jogging to catch up.

Y/N and JJ had been together for a solid two years. John B never would have thought his best friend would be able to hold down a relationship for that long, but alas, the blond proved him otherwise. Of course the crew had the no-Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule, but did it really apply to Y/N and JJ? They had been friends long before he met John B and the rest of the crew.

Kie knew the moment Y/N’s feelings changed from friendship to romantic, and John B knew he’d never seen JJ so smitten with someone, so the rest was history.

“Hey, what did we say about PDA?” Pope groaned as Y/N and JJ approached the boat. “That it’s perfectly okay as long as we aren’t groping each other?” Y/N offered with a smirk. Pope rolled his eyes and JJ let out a hearty laugh as the two climbed on board.

“As long as it doesn’t stop you from making these deliveries,” Heyward commented.

The four worked as a team, loading all the groceries on board. Finally, they got everything packed in and were off to the other side of the island. Y/N watched the homes roll by and slowly transform into huge mansions. She wrung her hands a bit at the thought of entering Kook territory, but pushed her nervousness aside.

“You’ll be okay,” JJ said, coming up beside his girlfriend. He knew she struggled with a bit of anxiety, and it didn’t help when Kooks would mess with her.

Y/N shot him a small smile as he wrapped an arm around her. She leaned in a bit and listened to his steady breathing, matching her breath with his. A wave of relief washed over her and she felt herself back to normal.

Y/N absolutely hated this about herself. No matter how many times JJ would tell her that’s what made her who she is and how much he loves her because of it, Y/N would still find herself shying away from help. Of course she let JJ help whenever she was in one of her spells, but she had always been reluctant. Her anxiety made her feel weak, and the Kooks could practically smell it on her.

That wasn’t to say she couldn’t throw a punch and handle herself in a fight. She was a Pogue after all. But, Y/N had never been a fan of small spaces and seemed to be nervous over small things such as social interactions. Somehow, some of the Kooks figured out she was never good when she was cornered either.

The Pogues were always careful not to leave her alone when any Kooks were around despite her protests. That just made her feel even weaker when she had personal bodyguards, but they still wouldn’t listen. JJ was the most concerned. She knew he meant well, but he would lose his shit if anyone laid a hand on his girl. Especially now that he had the gun.

Y/N really did appreciate her friends’ efforts to keep her safe, but it still annoyed her a bit. Yet, what could she do? Her friends were the closest thing to a normal family.

Sighing a bit, Y/N and JJ went over to help Pope dock the boat. “So most of this stuff is going to the club house so Y/N can come with me,” Pope said sorting through the bags. JJ gave him a skeptical look, grabbing a few of the resident’s orders.

“I’ll be fine JJ,” Y/N said. Pope shot the pair a glance, deciding it would be best to let the couple work out the situation. “What if we made two trips and you can go with me?” JJ suggested, failing miserably at hiding his concern. Y/N rolled her eyes, “Seriously, I can take care of myself. Besides I haven’t had an anxiety attack in like years so I’m fine.”

“I just think it would be better if you were with me,” JJ shrugged. “Quality couple time.”

“As if you two don’t already spend every waking moment with each other,” Pope muttered under his breath. JJ shot him a glare.

“Pope is right,” Y/N said, starting to get irritated. “It doesn’t make sense to make two trips when there are three of us. The club is kind of far too.” JJ studied her for a moment realizing she was genuinely annoyed with him, so he let up. “Fine,” he muttered, situating the bags on his arms and hopping off the boat. “See you ladies later!” JJ called over his shoulder, his voice returned to its normal goofiness.

Y/N grabbed the rest of the bags and followed Pope off the boat as well. “You know we are just trying to look out for you,” Pope started. Y/N rolled her eyes a bit. “Look I get it, but I’m not weak. I can take care of myself. Pogue-style, baby,” Y/N replied.

Pope laughed a bit and nodded in agreement. “You sure can throw a punch,” he said causing the girl to smile. “And you rival JJ in the craziness a bit.” “I do not!” Y/N laughed, playfully shoving him. The two went on like this bickering back and forth as they made their way past one of the tee boxes.

Unbeknownst to them, two Kooks watched as the Pogues made their way across their golf course. “Hey, hey,” Rafe said, smacking Topper’s chest and pointing to Y/N and Pope. “Shiiit,” Topper said watching the girl and boy. “Yo, when did Y/N get hot?” Topper commented. “Bro she’s always been pretty hot for a Pogue,” Rafe responded as he started walking towards the pair.

“Hey!” he and Topper called. Y/N’s face paled immediately as she heard the sound of the infamous Kooks. Pope sucked in a breath and said, “It’ll be fine.” “Yeah after they caved your face in last time you were here,” Y/N hissed, turning to face the boys coming towards them.

“What’d I say about coming back on our side of the island?” Rafe snarled, reaching Pope. “Oh so you want to go pick up your own groceries then?” Y/N stepped up in front of Pope. She may have anxiety, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let any Kooks walk all over her friends. Topper smirked and stepped forward too.

Y/N did her best not to suck back as two Kooks towered over her, but Rafe caught her flinch a bit, a wicked smile curving up on his lips. “Where’s blondie, Y/N?” he smirked. “Not here to protect you?”

Pope shoved him back away from Y/N who now seemed to be at a loss for words. No she told herself. “Get your nasty Pogue hands off me,” Rafe snapped, lunging at Pope. All the groceries were spilled as Y/N was knocked out of the way. She hit the ground feeling the side of her face scrape on the gravel.

Y/N groaned in pain, but pushed herself off the ground to see Rafe and Topper shoving Pope around. “Get off of him Topper!” she screamed, jumping on his back. The Kook easily shoved her off as he and Rafe kept messing with her friend. His nose was bleeding and he was covered in a can of beer that Topper thought it would be funny to dump on him.

“Stop!” Y/N screamed again. “What, he your boyfriend now?” Topper mocked. “No wonder Sarah dumped you! Jackass,” Y/N snarled, shoving him away from Pope. Rafe stopped punching Pope in the face and stood up. Pope lay on the ground groaning in pain.

Topper’s face went dark. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “When did you get a mouth on you?” Rafe smirked again slowly approaching Y/N. “It’s kinda hot.”

Y/N gulped and felt her legs subconsciously back away. She felt the walls begin to close in as the two boys stalked towards her. “Please, don’t,” her voice cracked, giving her fear away. It was like a feeding frenzy for sharks. Y/N turned to run, but Topper caught her before she could get anywhere.

“Get off!” Y/N yelped, as she struggled with her back pressed against his chest. “You’ll pay. You Pogue’s took one of us, so we’ll just take you for an even trade. Seems fair? Right Rafe?” Topper said. “No,” Pope tried getting up but Rafe punched him in the face again before turning back to Y/N.

“That’s right Topper,” Rafe grinned, “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.” Y/N was still flailing as she felt the walls begin to close in every step Rafe took.

“Please! Just let me go!” she felt tears burn in her eyes. “Now now, don’t cry,” Rafe cooed, brushing a stray tear from her face. The wall was right in front of her now, sucking her air out. Y/N began gasping.

“I haven’t got laid in awhile,” Rafe said. Y/N’s stomach dropped to the ground. Even Topper seemed to release his grip a bit. “Wait, bro--” Topper started. “Might I remind you Topper,” Rafe cut in, “Her idiotic boyfriend put a gun to your head, and that long-haired surfer friend of hers stole your girlfriend.”

Y/N let out a choked sob. “Please,” she flailed again, but Topper still didn’t let go. Y/N literally screamed as Rafe grabbed her hips, allowing her to shirt to ride up a bit, his hands grazing over her exposed skin. “Stop!” Pope jumped up, but was shoved off by Rafe. “Dude seriously. This isn’t cool,” Topper cut in, releasing Y/N. Rafe ignored him, pulling Y/N up off the ground and digging his hands into her waist.

“Pretty hot for a Pogue,” he whispered in her ear. Y/N’s eyes were watering as she took shallow breaths. Y/N let out a blood-curdling scream as Rafe placed a chaste kiss on her neck. She fought, scratched, kicked, flailed, trying to get out of his grasp. Her lungs burned and she felt like she was being crushed.

As she tried to let out another scream, Rafe clamped a hand over her mouth and she felt like she was drowning. “Dude!” Y/N faintly heard Topper. “Rafe, c’mon man! Let her go!” Pope yelled, struggling to get up.

In a matter of seconds, though, Rafe was ripped off Y/N. “Get the fuck off!” a familiar voice shouted. But, it wasn’t the voice she was looking for. “Rafe, what the fuck?” a girl’s voice shouted. Sarah. Y/N was sobbing and trying to take in air, but she couldn’t stop trembling.

“Hey hey it’s okay,” someone’s hand was on her back. Kie.

“Bro! Bro!” there was a lot of shouting.

“John B! Get off, you made your point man!”

“Let’s go!”

Y/N saw two blurred shapes running away from them. A familiar figure approached her. “JJ?” she gasped. “No, no, it’s me, John B,” he said. Y/N flinched away and started crying harder. She just wanted JJ.

“No hey hey you’re okay,” Kie’s voice rang out in her ear. Sarah knelt down on her other side and helped her up. Y/N’s lungs were on fire and she still found herself being suffocated by the walls. “Where’s…” Y/N gasped, more sobs coming out. “I--I don’t know, but we should get back to the boat. He may be there waiting,” Sarah said rubbing her arm gently.

Y/N cried harder, collapsing into Kie. John B went to help but the girl shot him a look telling him to stay back.

“All...” gasp. “I want…” gasp. “JJ…”

With the help from Sarah, the girls managed to get Y/N back to the boat with John B and Pope trailing after them. JJ was not back yet.

Y/N collapsed onto the ground in a corner, jumping away from all of her friends who were trying to help. As they tried approaching her slowly, all the girl felt were the walls getting tighter. Sadly, none of the Pogues really knew how to help her besides JJ. They had never seen her in this particular state.

At this point, Y/N was struggling for air as if she were drowning and was on the verge of passing out. “Guys, guys, back up,” Kie said. “We’re making it worse.”

“But how are we supposed to get her to stop?” John B snapped, running a hand through his hair. “Where the hell is JJ?” Sarah said looking around.

The group all tried reassuring Y/N from a safe distance, but nothing seemed to work.

“Yo! You will not believe how well these old guys tipped!” the voice they were all waiting for yelled on the dock.

“They gave me like--whoa what happened? When did you guys get--” JJ stopped in his tracks at the sight of all of his friends circled around his beat-up girlfriend. What the hell? Why’s her pretty face damaged? He started fuming.

JJ immediately shoved past Pope and Kie towards the girl in the corner.

“Hey! Hey! It’s me,” he said, not hesitating as Y/N tried backing away. As if something in her mind clicked, her body went limp as JJ pulled her into his chest, leaning himself back on the wall. Her breaths were still straggled and she was still trembling but she quit fighting.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ said softly. “H-hey,” she tried taking a breath, but it caught in her throat. “Shhhh,” he held on to her tighter, wrapping his arm around her head and putting her ear to his chest. “Listen to my heart, and breath with me.”

The Pogues watched silently in awe as Y/N began breathing normally.

“Good, keep going,” JJ encouraged kindly. John B had never seen JJ this way, but he really saw how close the two actually were. He pulled Sarah tight to his side.

“You wanna tell the group what we’re gonna do when we go full Kook?” JJ asked, glancing down at Y/N before looking up at their friends. He felt Y/N flinch after he said the word Kook. His gut turned at the thought this was brought on by a Kook.

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “Tell them about that dream you had of us. Off the island.” He knew his friends were studying him closely. They’d never really seen this side of him. He was always coping with his own problems in his own way, but this was how Y/N got to see him. JJ let his guard down with her the most. And while he loved to joke around, get stoned, wasted, and all that, he was still human.

Y/N slowly nodded, her breaths becoming more even. “I--I had this dream,” she started with a shaky voice, “JJ and I were in a uh little house, away from here.”

Sarah clung to John B as tears welled in her eyes as she watched the girl in JJ’s arms. She always saw Y/N as this tough Pogue who wouldn’t take shit from anyone regardless of her own problems. She never knew Y/N struggled like this, and it broke Sarah’s heart.

Kie had a faint idea of what Y/N was really struggling with but she had never seen her friend in this state. The sight of her, curled in JJ’s arms, trying to talk about something that was for certain extremely personal between the couple, made her heart break as well.

“W-we had a little house, and two blond headed boys running circles around us,” Y/N cracked a weak smile as the group let out a light laugh, the tension finally breaking. “And you,” she raised a more steady hand pointing at John B and Sarah, “you two would come over for dinner with your girls and we’d watch Kie and Pope on the news being superstars.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sarah smiled.

Y/N, at last, took a deep strong breath. Color was already returning to her face as she slowly regained her composure. John B and Pope went to untie the boat and soon enough, they were on their way back to their side of the island.

JJ didn’t release Y/N, but looked to Pope for answers.

“What happened?” he tried holding in his anger for Y/N’s sake.

“We were taking the stuff up to the club and Topper and Rafe came up,” Pope said slowly. JJ felt Y/N tense under his arms and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

No one dared speak a word as to what happened next.

JJ got the hint, though. “Then?” he pressed.

“R-Rafe,” Y/N started, and he was shocked to hear her talking about it. “No, no, you don’t…” the words died in JJ’s mouth. “He, he tried--”

JJ knew immediately. Y/N felt his body go rigid and didn’t say the words. She didn’t even want to think about it. “I’ll kill him,” JJ hissed.

“John B about did,” Kie said. Sarah seemed to be looking away from them. Y/N knew what she was thinking.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Y/N said softly. Sarah turned to her with a sad look on her face. “But he’s my brother,” she whispered. Y/N shook her head, “He’s not you Sarah. Stop beating yourself up.”

“Y/N…”

“This is how it is for us Pogues. We’re all a little broken somehow. Well maybe except Kie,” Y/N chuckled a bit, leaning back on JJ who was still seething. Sarah gave her a small smile and sat down by John B’s legs. “Anyways,” John B continued, “Kie, Sarah, and I were getting ice cream by the course, and heard Y/N scream so we came and helped.”

JJ stood up completely knocking Y/N over. She shot him a glare rather than going back to hyperventilating. “Pope! Turn around! I’m going to rip his face off,” JJ snarled. “No,” Y/N said, standing up facing him. “Just forget it. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

JJ stared at her in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” he was trying not to yell at Y/N. However, the girl just stared at him with a raised brow. JJ stared back.

“What is going on?” Sarah asked.

“Shh, they do this all the time,” John B replied.

Soon enough JJ broke his gaze and sat down pulling Y/N back into his arms. Y/N had a triumphant look in her eyes as they continued on. “Oh my god,” Sarah laughed.

“Shut up,” JJ mumbled resting his head on Y/N’s shoulder.

Later that night, in the Chateau, Y/N and JJ were curled together in the small bed of the guest room. “Are you okay?” JJ finally asked after hours. Moments like these were saved for behind closed doors and just the two of them.

Y/N thought for a moment and then nodded. “I am now,” she said in the darkness. His arms gave her a little squeeze. “But, how,” JJ hesitated, “how can you let me hold you like this after what happened?” he asked shyly. Y/N rolled over to look at him in the darkness.

JJ’s eyes were swimming with concern. She pressed her lips to his, savoring his warm breath and body before pulling away. His kisses were always soft and sexy at the same time.

“Because you’re you,” Y/N answered, resting her forehead on his. “I’m still a guy,” JJ muttered. Y/N let out a laugh. “You don’t get it. You’re the only one I want. You’re the guy who knows me the best. You know how to deal with my problems. You’ve known me since we were literally babies. Sure, we’ve known John B for a long time, but he doesn’t know me like you,” Y/N said.

“But--” JJ started but was cut off.

“JJ, you’re the one I’m in love with and have been since as long as I can remember. I trust you with my life. Yeah, you baby me sometimes, but I’ve accepted that’s how it comes being with you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered.

It was JJ’s turn to place a kiss on her lips. She sighed, content at how soft his were. Their lips molded together like two puzzle pieces as he pressed his body closer to hers. She let her mouth open as he ran his tongue over her lips resulting in a low moan. His hands tugged her waist and pulled her on top of him just as they did plenty of times before.

This time, though, it wasn’t like they were going to have sex. It was more of a tender kiss. A declaration of their love for one another as cheesy as it sounds.

Eventually, they both turned up for air, and Y/N fell back next to JJ. He wrapped his arm around her again as she rested her head on his chest. “We’ll get out of here one day,” JJ said with a promise in his voice. “I won’t doubt that,” she smiled. “But I’ll kill Rafe first,” he said. Y/N laughed a bit again.

“No you won’t. Then you’ll go to prison, and I don’t want you to go to prison. Besides, Rafe is always tweaked. Everyone knows that,” Y/N snorted. “Well I’m always smoking weed,” JJ offered.

“Aren’t all the Pogues though? There’s a difference between weed and cocaine too.”

JJ groaned causing Y/N to let out another laugh. “You’re always so optimistic.”

“Yes yes I know,” Y/N giggled. “But I know you love it cause otherwise you would’ve dumped me a long time ago.” “I would never dump you. You’re too good for this place, Y/N” JJ mumbled squeezing her again.

Slowly but surely, the couple then fell asleep, content and safe from everything the cruel world would throw at them, in each other’s arms.

_______________________________________________

Not really sure I like the ending but it is what it is I suppose. It’s more about the story in the middle. Plus I really don’t think I’m good at writing endings so yea. Enjoy m’dears!

xoxo

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serpenteve · 3 years

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king of scars rant 💅🏽

cw: spoilers for king of scars

Honestly, I hated this book.

The Lore

I definitely hated how this book pretty much retconned the original trilogy and made it all but pointless. So Alina had to lose her powers because there are comic limits to Grisha power but Zoya can turn into a fucking dragon and become the avatar now?

The Shadow Fold had to be destroyed because it made Ravka weak but now it's open season on Ravka without the Fold holding their enemies back and every other week, there's some new assassination attempt from Shu Han or an open declaration of war from Fjerda or blackmailing debt-collectors from Kerch? How is Ravka still functioning, honestly?

Nikolai

I'm sorry, Nikolai, but this book actually made me low-key hate you. Like, the narrative wants so badly to prove me to me that he isn't like other imperialist monarchs! He....remembers people's names and fights alongside them!!!

Another character in this book (Isaak) spends the majority of his narrative idolizing Nikolai and trying to be like him and talking about how amazing he was to his family and then when he dies........Nikolai barely even gives a fuck? I got the sense this friendship was entirely one-sided.

Also, why is this marketed as a Nikolai duology and named after him when he's barely the main character and has to share the narration with 3 other characters---one of which is literally occupying the same locations as him? 🤨

Zoya

Oof, where to even begin with this one.

Listen, I would have been 100% on board with this book being entirely focused on Zoya. She's the real protagonist in my opinion so the fact that had to share the narrative with 3 other people (including one person who doesn't even influence the main plot and another who gets discarded by the end) was really bringing down the potential of her story.

Because there wasn't enough room for her character development, everything about her arc is completely rushed. Like, she can fire-bend and bee-bend in the span of 3 hours? WELL OKAY THEN. Oh, she can just turn into a fucking dragon now because she opened some random ass door in her mind? WELL OKAY THEN.

I hate hate hate it when female characters get accused of being Mary Sues but there's something to be said when we're jumping heads and everyone is just like "Wow, Zoya is so pretty, Zoya is so badass, Zoya is so cool" while not really having any real consequences for her flaw. Like, we all know Zoya can be bitchy and mean (and we love that about her 😌) but....she pretty much gets away it with and doesn't face any backlash for it. Add this to the fact that she becomes the Grisha avatar with very little training on her part and voila. The entire world of the Grishaverse bends its rules and reality around her in typical Sue fashion.

Nina

Girl, what was even the point of your story? I kept waiting and waiting and waiting, stupidly assuming that her story would somehow merge with the main one but it never came.

We learn that things are still shit for Grisha. The Shu are kidnapping them and making them into crazy supersoldiers and Fjerda are getting them addicted to some parem variant to create their own Grisha slave army from birth?

Why on earth would being a Grisha at the Little Palace be a choice in this world? It's either you become a soldier in the Second Army or....you get a fate worse than death. Wouldn't the atrocities committed against Grisha radicalize most Grisha anyway? Like, sign me the fuck up, I want to kick some ass against people trying to literally experiment on me???

Nina's necromancer powers were pretty badass though, not gonna lie 🙌🏽

Isaak

Isaak was honestly the best part of this whole dumpster book and then he gets killed for no reason. And Nikolai doesn't even give a fuck?

Why introduce this new character if we're just going to use and discard him? I kept wondering why we were getting palace updates from a new character instead of just using Genya or Tamar's perspective.

Also, the whole thing with princess Ehri was a bit racist to me? Like we have a Chinese-coded character being a deceptive backstabber (or front-stabber in this case lol) and nearly dies while giving off some serious dragon lady vibes. I get the sense she did die in the original draft and some editor was probably like "Hmm, well maybe we shouldn't have another dead POC" so she survives. At least she didn't speak in broken English like Botkin 🤷🏽‍♀️

The (Anti) Climax

This was easily the most anti-climactic ending to a Grishaverse book I've read. It's a shame because it has all the elements that could have made it badass? Like we've got saints with god-like powers but Zoya easily defeats Elizaveta by suddenly unlocking fire-bending, bee-bending, and transforming into a fucking dragon. I just can't take it seriously.

Elizaveta herself was too easily distracted as a villain. What the hell even happens to the saints when they die in this place? Do all their miracles that affect the rest of the world just disappear? Who knows. The book ends with Fjerda declaring war and a failed assassination attempt by a Shu Han princess.

Yuri & the Darkling

And finally this brings me whatever mess is going on with Yuri and the Darkling. I get the sense Leigh was super pissed with Darkling stans and created this weird strawman with Yuri's character. Honestly, I thought he was kinda funny because I'm sure even without real-world fans simping for the Darkling, there would certainly be people in the Grishaverse who would gravitate towards the Darkling and see him as a savior of sorts, especially with the world's Grisha being arguably worse after his death and the destruction of the Fold.

What bothered me was the bizarre preachiness of the other characters. Like Yuri literally only exists so that Zoya and Nikolai can take turns being like "Actually, Yuri aka Darklina stan placeholder, the Darkling was the VILLAIN of the series and you were just too stupid to see it, etc"

...Like, girl, we know he's the villain 🤦🏽‍♀️ If we're going to create a character just to preach to Darkling stans, then why does the entire plot revolve around trying to bring him back into the story? It's like Leigh has a weird love-hate relationship with the Darkling. She hates him and she hates his fan club but she still needs him because otherwise there's no magical plot conflict.

Fridge Logic

If there is no limit to Grisha power and you can just take however much you want from the heart at the making of the world, why the hell did Alina get punished for the amplifier nonsense in the original trilogy?

If the saint's powers are limited to the edges of the Fold, how are they able to manipulate stuff outside of it?

Juris claims when you properly possess an amplifier, you become a living amplifier in return. So is how the Darkling and Baghra became living amplifiers? Or is that just still some unexplained merzost nonsense from Illya Morozova?

What the hell even considered merzost now with all this retcon?

If the Darkling can possess Yuri and magically transform his features to be his own, then why did he need his own body?

And if he can change people's features by possessing them, why did Nikolai get to keep his?

Why did the obisbaya ritual fail in the first place?

Prose

The only positive is that the prose is like a million times better than the original trilogy, but considering how terrible the original is, I suppose that's not really saying much.

#anti king of scars #anti leigh bardugo #king of scars spoilers

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fific7 · 4 years

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Dangerous and Divine - Part 5

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon except for a few random points mentioned this time. It’s mainly fluff, lemon zest 🍋 and a bit of angst. There’s also some Billy POV in there. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

A grin curved his lips upwards, “How d’you like your eggs in the mornin’, ma’am?”

“Over easy,” you grinned back. He tapped his shoulder a couple of times with the kitchen spoon, “Ummm.. how about scrambled? And then I’ll give you the “over easy” version afterwards.”

That damn smirk of his, you thought, it’s downright dangerous.

The two of you were sitting at your kitchen island, eating breakfast. The scrambled eggs were really tasty, you complimented him. He’d preened a little, “I’m quite a good cook, sweetheart,” he said, “learned how to look after myself quite early on in life.”

Suddenly he put his fork down, and looked over at you. His face was serious, and you saw some sadness in his eyes. “My mother abandoned me when I was a really young kid. She was a junkie, and couldn’t look after herself never mind me, so I suppose I should thank her. I’d probably be dead otherwise. Got put in a group home, stayed there until I aged out and went straight into the Marines. And got my degree on the government’s dime.”

Your hand moved to cover his, “Billy, you’ve done so well, and you’ve achieved it all on your own. I’m proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself too.” He beamed at you, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Yeah... yeah, I am. Thanks, angel, I appreciate you sayin’ that. I wanted to tell you about it, wanted to be honest with you. In case when you saw the suits, the car, the penthouse and all, you thought I was some kind of privileged trust fund kid.”

He looked down, “There’s a stigma about growin’ up in the system, y’know? I wanted to get it out on the table so you know who I really am and where I came from.”

“I don’t care about that, Billy.” He nodded, thumb stroking your hand which was still on top of his. “I really hoped that you wouldn’t ... but I wanted to be sure, and I’m really glad you feel like that. Also I needed you to know that I’m bein’ honest with you.”

You thought you saw a closed-off look on his face for a moment, but then it was gone and he smiled over at you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　——————��————-————-««

You had spent the rest of Sunday together, lazing around, watching various shows on Netflix before venturing out for a late lunch to a local diner. Billy had eventually headed home after another steamy session in the bedroom, regretful about not spending the night, sighing that he had a really early start in the morning, a ‘job’ he couldn’t tell you anything about.

He’d explained a bit more about his work earlier in the day while you were eating in the diner. How a lot of it was classified as it was military or political in nature, so he couldn’t go into detail. You’d nodded, and said you understood. But you’d asked some questions nevertheless; how many of the assignments did he go on himself, just how dangerous they were, had he or his men ever been injured.

You got the impression that, although he couldn’t tell you much about who was involved or why they needed protection details, he was pleased you were showing an interest in his work.

The two of you agreed that you’d meet up during the week, Billy saying he’d text you to confirm when and where as he wasn’t sure how long this job would last, maybe at least a couple of days.

He’d insisted on putting his numbers into your phone himself, so you’d unlocked it and handed it to him, wandering back to your bedroom to put some more clothes on. Shortly afterwards he’d kissed you long and hard and made his way downstairs to his car, and you’d watched from your balcony as he drove away. Then you’d laughed at yourself - you were acting like some medieval damsel watching her knight disappear off to war or something.

Sliding the glass door closed, you went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. The apartment suddenly felt very empty without Billy in it. How quickly you’d got used to him being there.

You wandered across to the sofa with your newly-poured glass of wine, noticing your phone on the coffee table. Oh yeah, Billy had added his numbers. A sudden twinge of insecurity hit you. What if he hadn’t actually put his direct numbers in there, and just pretended to? You sat down, looking at it lying there. I mean, it wasn’t like you couldn’t track him down at Anvil, but you would no doubt have to go through a receptionist and you could be endlessly stone-walled.

You eventually picked up the phone and unlocked it. Scrolling to your contacts, you suddenly burst out laughing. Billy had put his numbers in there and had also taken a selfie, him smouldering into the camera. He’d attached it to the contact details with a description.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy drove away from her apartment, truly wishing he could’ve stayed over again.

But then he’d shaken his head slightly, laughing to himself; she’d definitely got one thing right - he was a big sap. Since when did he find himself almost playing house with a woman? Telling her she was his girlfriend - as she’d put it - after five minutes? He was a one-and-done kinda guy!

But then Billy Russo admitted to himself that something had hit him smack in the heart when he’d first seen her, sitting there looking stunning and somehow fragile with that creep trying to come onto her. Well turns out she wasn’t fragile in the least! However when those beautiful eyes had met his... well, he was a goner. Solid gone. And then he’d pursued her like a lovestruck idiot.

He hadn’t ever seriously thought about love. Or believed in it, for that matter. Certainly not when he’d been bedding all those women when he’d been on leave or since he’d left the Marines. All that shit just wasn’t for him. And now? Yeah, not so sure.

Billy almost felt like he was under some kind of spell, it had hit him so quickly. Yeah, like she’d enchanted him or something ridiculous, straight out of a Disney or Harry Potter movie. Was this love, then? His stomach clenched every time he saw her, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanted to be with her all the time, hell he was even jealous of Jake though he wasn’t a threat. Was he? No, surely not. And what about Steve, the other one? Yeah, there he was doing it again - unreasonable jealousy.

And when they’d first slept together, he felt like he’d finally understood what making love meant.

Billy Russo, who until a few days ago had spent most of his leisure time in life actively fucking women - how he’d always described it to himself and others - was now a confirmed big sap. He chuckled to himself.

He suddenly remembered ripping the shit out of a young Marine in his squad who’d come back off leave totally besotted with some girl. The kid had confessed (stupid move) to all the guys that they’d made love, a distant and dreamy look in his eyes. At the time, Billy had scoffed at him and endlessly humiliated him about it. In an affectionate way of course, he told himself.

But he felt guilty about that. Who’s the one with the distant and dreamy gaze now, Russo?

In all truth, Billy felt like he was having some kind of out of body experience. As if Previous Billy Russo was looking down in horror at his new self, yelling at him to get his fucking head back on straight. But New Billy Russo wasn’t listening because, well because he realised he liked feeling this way.

And he thought that she felt the same. He knew she was fighting it and wouldn’t admit anything to him, but there were little tells that had given her away. He decided he’d stay on his best behaviour, just keep trying to win her over, and he felt in his bones that they would be together.

But he did feel a sting of guilt. He had been honest with her, but he’d also been selective with what he’d told her about Anvil, how it all started, and this ongoing shit he and Frank were still embroiled in. One day... one day, and hopefully soon, he could tell her absolutely everything.

His phone, clipped to the dash, vibrated.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the caller ID, hit the button and answered it.

“Dinah... what can I do for you?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You, meanwhile, had just finished your second glass of wine and were admitting to yourself that you were really missing Billy. Oh this is bad, your brain yelled at you, very bad. You’d only known this guy for a few days and you were falling for him. Or - okay - had already fallen for him. It scared you, quite honestly.

He was charming, funny, handsome, sexy. An amazing lover. He’d been disarmingly honest with you about his past, but... but what? Why was there a ‘but’? Because there was something niggling at the back of your mind. Just a couple of expressions you’d seen on his face, quickly gone. An indication of more happening just underneath the surface than you knew about. Billy had a distinct air of danger about him, and you wondered what else was going on inside that dark head of his.

You’d fallen for him, yes... but you were also going to remain wary of him, until you were certain you knew everything you could about him.

Reaching over and pulling your laptop towards you across the coffee table, you typed Billy’s name into Google.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning, Billy parked his car and walked into Anvil. His reception staff wished him a respectful Good Morning, he nodded to them and headed upstairs to his office. Frank was already there, reading a newspaper.

“Mornin’ Bill,” he said, looking up. “Frankie,” nodded Billy, “want a coffee?” and kept on walking towards the coffee machine in the corner. “Nah, just had one, thanks.”

He poured out an Americano for himself, then chuckled loudly. Frank quirked an eyebrow at him, and Billy shrugged back. “I met someone last week. She owns two cafés, and she’s a coffee snob. Gonna refine my palate, she said.”

Frank looked back down to his paper before commenting, “I’m impressed you know that much about her, Bill. Didn’t think you bothered cos you usually cut & run.” Billy smirked, knowing he couldn’t dispute what Frank had just said, but he was going to enjoy the next slice of the conversation. Even just to see the expression on Frank’s face.

“I....like her. A lot. I want something with her.” “Something?” Frank chortled, “...you mean, like a relationship, Bill?” He looked closely at Billy, saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face and his jaw dropped. “You do, don’t you?! Fuckin’ hell! Never thought I’d see the day, Russo.” Billy burst out laughing.

“Well, that makes two of us, Frankie. But...” he spread his hands out to either side of him, “...it is what it is. And I’ll fill you in on all the details later. Now, this thing with Madani and Homeland - let’s get it nailed down.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

That same morning, you sat at your desk and slowly twirled from side to side in your chair. You sipped your cappuccino, and thought about Billy.

Little cousin had done you a favour this time and earlier on had delved into her company’s database, digging out some further information on Billy and Anvil which Google couldn’t provide you with. All it had given you was the bare minimum of the company’s founding date and numerous photos of Billy looking hot in his designer suits.

She told you she’d heard of him, and had also seen him at several events similar to the one you’d attended. You’d admitted you were seeing him, and she’d firstly screeched down the phone at you, nearly bursting your eardrum, before saying, “Now see, if you hadn’t gone in my place you wouldn’t have met him!” “Yeah, yeah, alright. Tell me what you’ve got for me.”

In a more serious tone, she said, “Just be careful though, his company seems a little... well, shady let’s just say. I mean, in the security business,” her voice lowered, “there’s usually some dodgy dealings or other going on. But him and his colleagues seem to have got themselves in some deep water with two federal agencies. I’ll email this stuff to you now and you’ll see what I mean.” You thanked her and hung up before she could tell you that now you owed her another favour.

You’d read through the attachments she’d sent you, and your eyes had got wide as you read that Billy and Anvil had originally been funded by a shadowy CIA guy, who’d then been killed in a gun battle between un-named protagonists. You sussed out that Anvil must’ve been one of those involved, as Billy and his friend Frank had been arrested and interrogated by Homeland Security before being released without charge. That struck you as a bit odd, but there were no more details available.

Your phone had chosen that moment to buzz with a FaceTime call from the man himself. You’d hesitated then accepted the call, and Billy’s handsome face popped up in front of you, with a wide smile plastered on it. You could see he was in his car. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said in a low sexy voice, and you felt your stomach tighten with excitement. This guy... the effect he had on you....!

You’d smiled and replied, “Morning, Billy.” He tilted his head towards you, dark eyes drawing you in, “Missin’ me? Because I’m missing you.” Shaking your head, smirking, you said, “We only saw each other a few hours ago so no, I’m not.” A cheeky grin from him this time, “Don’t believe you, angel, I think you can’t wait to see me again.” “You’re such a cocky bastard, Billy,” you laughed, “Why are you calling, exactly?”

His smile was a genuine one as he said, “I just wanted to see you before I head off to this job. Not sure when I’ll be able to call next. Remember - I’ll let you know as soon as I can when we can meet up this week.” You nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.” He blew you a kiss, saying “Bye, angel,” before he rang off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

One of your friends had called shortly afterwards to ask if you wanted to meet up for lunch, as you hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Deciding that you could do with some girl time, you arranged to meet her in a steak house near the Chrysler Building, and then decided you’d better get some work done before you headed out for your long lunch hour.

The two of you had met up just outside the restaurant and had gone in chatting away to each other. Being shown to your table, you sat down only to spot Billy Russo walking in behind a small dark-haired woman. Your mouth dropped open, and your eyes took in every detail of her. She was pretty, with big dark eyes, olive skin and wavy hair in a shoulder-length bob. Billy, you noted, had his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their table, just as he had with you when you went for your first drink with him.

You leant forward to your friend, “I’m so sorry about this but we’re gonna have to go somewhere else.” She looked concerned, “What’s wrong?” “Someone I need to avoid just came in,” you explained, “c’mon, I’ll tell them I’ve had an emergency at work or something.” You both stood up, and you fled from the restaurant before you repeated your actions at that house party, which had got you arrested. You didn’t want to end up in jail this time just because of that jerk and his little lady.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy looked up as two women who’d been sitting near him stood up and started rushing towards the door. Weird, he thought, they hadn’t even been served judging by the menus still laying on their place settings. He looked back at them, and one of them turned back briefly to her friend behind her as they exited the premises.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It was her. His angel. Oh fuck! Did she..? Yes, she must’ve seen him and... he glanced at Madani across the table from him, reading through the menu choices. She glanced up, smirking at Billy but it quickly dropped off her face, when she saw the expression on his.

“Billy?” she said, but he’d dumped his napkin onto his plate by now and was standing up.

“Sorry, Dinah... I gotta go.” An annoyed look on her face, she growled, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I... there’s someone I gotta catch up with, and I just saw them leaving.” He walked away from their table, and towards the door of the restaurant. As he did so he heard Madani say in a harsh voice, “Is it a woman, Russo?” but ignored her.

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

Text

jonsa prompt fic/modern au

(look at me, making my way through the rest of my prompts from *checks watch* five months ago)

This one was from the lovely @chispas-and-broken-bindings and the prompt was: “I'm sorry 'bout the other night and I know I could be more creative and come up with poetic lines but..”

1) had to google these lyrics, and I have to say, I had never heard of this song, so thank you for also bringing it to my attention

2) I have no concept of what a drabble is, apparently. I meant to keep all of these at under 1k words but nooooope

Jon grunts as he reaches deep into the fridge – he can see the label of one of those craft beers Theon had (with shockingly good taste) brought in the back and he'd really like that instead of the cheaper swill crowding the front.

Sansa's birthdays are always massive and he honestly forgot the way she goes all out for them. After high school, he just never really made it back for her big, late-September parties and then after college, he'd taken a job down in Dorne. It's his first year back and he sort of forgot how overwhelming it all is - how many friends she has, how her entire extended family shows up.

It doesn't help that he barely knows any of her friends anymore. He recognizes a few from her high school years, but other than that he knows no one. Thank the gods the Starks and Theon are here, because otherwise, Jon's lost in a sea of strangers.

“Jon Snow!” he hears a voice behind him, light and airy and filled with what almost sounds like glee. His fingers finally manage to grasp the neck of the bottle he was aiming for and he pulls back and stands up and turns around to see – fuck, what's her name? Margaery, that's right. Sansa's best friend from high school.

“Hey,” he says, giving her what he's sure is the smile that Robb always calls ‘weird’ and ‘awkward‘ (how you've ever gotten any woman to sleep with you is a miracle, he remembers Robb telling him once).

“It's so nice that you could come,” Margaery says, voice oozing with... something he can't quite place.

“Uh, yeah?” he agrees, because he guesses it is nice? He starts to move around her – they're the only two in the basement right now, everyone else is outside at the party, he'd only come in to grab a drink.

“I mean, I guess we're all adults now, high school is so a decade ago, am I right?” There's a sort of glint in her eye that Jon doesn't like and he really, really wants to get back outside, but there's also a part of him that wants to ask what the hell she means.

“It was a decade ago,” he agrees again, edging towards the door.

“It must have been so awkward for you, I guess that's why you've been avoiding her all these years,” Margaery sighs and tilts her head with a piercing stare, like she's trying to look into his soul or something.

“I... what?”

“Oh, it's ok,” she smiles, leaning forward and starting to whisper even though there's no one else around, “she told me everything.”

“Everything about what?” he asks, mind going suddenly blank because he cannot think of a single thing that Margaery could be talking about.

“Your crush, duh!”

For a moment there's silence in the basement, before, “my crush?”

“I mean, you were like... obsessed with her!”

Jon blinks, feeling both very confused and very stupid as he says, “what?”

“Oh come on! We were all there when you sent her those flowers. You clearly wanted everyone to know, you had them delivered in the middle of lunch! She even read the card aloud – what did it say? Oh my god, they were lyrics, that's right! I'm sorry 'bout the other night and I know I could be more creative and come up with poetic lines but..” she trails off with a giggle. “I'll be honest, I never pegged you as a Rihanna fan.”

Jon feels some sort of creeping horror filling him because he has - one, never sent anyone besides his mother flowers and two, doesn't think he knows even a single Rihanna song.

“Excuse me.”

He walks out of the basement with Margaery's tinkling laugh following him and when he's outside, he immediately spots Sansa, surrounded by a group of her friends by the pool, laughing with a glass of sangria in her hand and a flower crown on her head and a sash that reads Birthday Girl! across her body.

Arya calls to him, but he ignores her as he pushes through the crowd of Sansa's friends and family, making his way to her. She spots him right before he gets there, a smile forming and then fading when she takes in his face – and then panic seems to cross her features and she looks around, like she's going to try to run.

“Sansa,” he says before she can bolt, and her friends part to let him through. “Can we talk?”

She opens her mouth, but he takes her by the arm and starts dragging her away from her friends and behind them, he thinks he hears a few of them start to whisper and giggle and the annoyance that's been simmering in his chest flares.

“Jon, I'm so glad you could make it!” she says brightly, plastering a smile on her face that he can tell is completely fake. “It's been-”

“Why does Margaery think I had a crush on you in high school?”

He watches her open and close her mouth a few times, eyes darting around for an escape and he tightens his grip on her arm.

“I don't...” she starts, but her voice isn't very strong.

“Sansa,” he tries to keep his voice calm and even.

“Ok, fine,” she hisses, eyes snapping back to him and narrowing and there's the Sansa he knows. She may look sweet and innocent, but Jon has known her long enough to know she isn't the wilting flower she sometimes pretends to be. He watches her spine straighten and her head rise and she looks him in the eye. “I told some of my friends back then that you had a thing for me, so what? It was like, a decade ago. It's nothing to freak out over.”

“Well, Margaery is bringing it up to me at a party a decade later. Why does she think I sent you flowers?”

Her confidence falters then, pink staining her cheeks. “I needed to convince them you had a crush on me, so I... may have... sent myself flowers and made the card from you.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded, before asking, “why did I never hear about this before?”

Sansa shrugs and says, “you were away at college at the time. And then you went south and this is the first time you've been around my high school friends since then?”

“Why?” he asks, mind still reeling over this (and, oh gods, he hopes none of Sansa's high school friends ever said anything to Robb or her parents. But no, if they had, Jon's pretty sure he'd be dead in a ditch or, at the very least, banned from family functions by now).

He watches her struggle to come up with something to say, watches the blush spread from high on her cheeks down to her throat and she visibly swallows and for a moment he thinks she might cry and he feels suddenly horrible. Except no – she's the one making up stories about him. He shouldn't feel bad!

“It was... we were at a party and they were all talking about-” she lowers her voice to a whisper, eyes darting around, “-sex and they kept making jokes about how I was a virgin and they knew I hadn't slept with Joffrey before we broke up and I was sick of them making fun of me so I just... I told them I wasn't a virgin. And then they wanted to know who and... well, you were the first person I thought of.”

He's not quite sure how to take that and he doesn't really know what to say (though honestly, he wants to tell her that her high school friends were shit then and they're still pretty shit now, if Margaery cornering him in the basement to taunt him about his supposed crush is any indication).

“And the flowers?”

“Ok,” she says, letting out a forced, breathless laugh, “here's where it gets funny. I promise, you're gonna laugh...” He keeps frowning at her and she gives a subtle tug to her arm and, finding it unmoving, realizes she's going to have to tell him. “Margaery asked a lot of questions and I could tell she didn't believe me and it turned into this whole thing where you were like, obsessed with me? I told them you wrote me poetry and then I sent the flowers to myself...” she trails off uncertainly and Jon wills himself to breathe deep and bite his tongue against his initial retort.

“And you never thought that your gossipy high school friends might spread this around and it could get back to, I don't know, your brother - my best friend? Your parents?”

Her eyes go wide in horror and Jon can tell that no, she never thought of that. Her eyes dart around the party and Jon turns to look behind him and he can see a group of her high school friends whispering together and not too far away is her parents talking to her Uncle Benjen. He watches her eyes well up with tears and he fights back a sigh of annoyance because he wants to be furious with her, but he can't quite manage it (he is weak to tears, yes, but he also remembers high school Sansa – how insecure she was, how desperate to fit in with her friends, that little shit boyfriend who made her feel even worse – and he can't bring himself to be mad).

“Did it have to be Rihanna?” he sighs eventually, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“It's a good song,” she says, hesitantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth in return.

“You really should ditch those friends,” he tells her, serious again.

“I honestly don't hang out with them anymore, I just invited them because we all still live around here and Margaery DM'd me a few weeks ago about my party and I felt weird not inviting her. If you want, I can tell them the truth. I should have years ago.”

“It doesn't really matter,” he shrugs. “As long as it never gets back to your family, I do not want to deal with them thinking I deflowered their precious daughter.”

She huffs out an incredulous laugh and says, “I almost wish it had been you, Harry...” And then she stops and her mouth drops open and her eyes go wide like she can't believe she said that and honestly, neither can Jon. It hangs between them for a moment and suddenly he is very aware of his hand still on her arm, how smooth her skin feels beneath his touch. He lets go of her like it burns.

“Well,” he says, shifting back to give a few more inches of space between them. “I should probably let you get back to your party.”

“Yeah,” she says and then, just before he turns to go, “I'm glad you're back. In Winterfell, I mean. I guess I'll be seeing you around more?”

He stares at her for a few moments, the pink stain back on her cheeks, teeth biting into her bottom lip, fingers nervously playing with her birthday sash and he should say no because he can feel this leading down a road he was not prepared for, but instead he says, “yeah. Yes. I'll see you around.”

“Good,” she says and she smiles and as he walks away, all he can think is – Robb is gonna be so annoying about this.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #oh look it's another modern au #shocking #prompt fic

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Text

The Weight of Love (TMA)

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust.

Note: This was just a little something inspired by @janekfan‘s wonderful art of Jon sleeping in all sorts of weird positions. It takes place in my ADHD Jon Adventures universe, but is totally fine as a stand alone piece! <3

Martin Blackwood was awakened once again by a knee to his side.

Look, Jonathan Sims was the love of his life. An all-around wonderful human being. Sweet, caring, intelligent, clever. A thousand other descriptors that he kept track of in a small journal (for sappy poetry that wouldn’t see the light of day). Every moment they spent together was precious to him, even when they bickered. Especially when they bickered. So, needless to say, Martin Blackwood was a very happy and lucky man. But there was just one thing he couldn’t get used to.

Jonathan Sims was incapable of staying still, even in his sleep.

It would start out fine. Jon would curl into his side, Martin would nod off, everyone comfortable and cozy. But after about an hour or so, Jon would start to move. A restless turn here, a mumble or two there. Occasionally he would grab Martin’s hand and intertwine their fingers. A kiss to his forearm, a gentle nudge to his chin. All very cute. But that was just the prologue.

The main event came closer to midnight, when Jon thought it was suddenly appropriate to treat Martin like some sort of jungle gym. If Martin attempted to sleep on his stomach, he very quickly acquired a Jon-sized backpack. If he moved to his side, Jon would throw himself horizontally over Martin’s hip, as if to prevent him from getting up. If he slept on his back, he would wake up to a mouthful of black curls.

It didn’t help if Martin stayed still. Jon would find a position comfortable for about thirty minutes before he started contorting into a new one, all elbows and knees. None of this could’ve been comfortable for him and it was clear he wasn’t sleeping soundly, but he woke up with seemingly no knowledge of his late-night misdeeds. Either that, or he was unwilling to acknowledge them. Martin, however, was starting to get a bit tired.

Last night had been the final straw, with Martin waking up to Jon trying to climb him like a ladder, a knee almost knocking the wind out of him. He pulled the man back down from what looked like an almost-successful attempt at crawling up the headboard. Jon simply mumbled in response to the manhandling, attempting to curl back up in his arms. Martin groaned aloud at the adorable display, clearly a clever ruse to distract him from the task at hand: namely, making sure Jon didn’t kill him in his sleep.

“Oh no you don’t- wake up, Jon.” A small snore, then silence. Martin ran a finger down his side, a dirty trick as it was his most ticklish spot. “C’mon. Rise and shine.”

Jon squirmed, his eyes blinking open as he quickly adopted his trademark scowl, as if he was the offended party. “Hnnh. What time s’it?”

“Time for you to stop assaulting me in my sleep, that’s what.” He instantly regretted that choice in words as Jon shot back, almost flailing out of bed in an attempt to put some distance between the two of them. Martin grabbed hold of his arm with a sigh, pulling him back to safety.

“That’s- sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Martin winced. “Well, it kind of is, but-”

“I’m-I’m sorry, Martin.” Even in the dim light of the room, Martin could make out two big eyes looking at him apologetically. “What did I do?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a very active sleeper?” Jon immediately looked down at his lap. That’s a yes. Martin moved to reassure him. “It’s very endearing, but er, not very conducive to sleeping. For me.” He reached out to rub at Jon’s back, letting him relax into the touch. “Honestly, I don’t know how you sleep that way. You’re not even that energetic when you’re awake.”

“Georgie did mention it once or twice, yes. But she ah, gave as good as she got, as it were.”

Martin shuddered at the image of the two of them, punching and kicking their way through the night. What a nightmare. Jon looked guilty and chastised and that wasn’t at all what he was aiming for. He just wanted some fucking sleep. He could move out to the couch, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable and he genuinely liked sleeping with Jon. When he’s still, and not fighting off some unseen enemy or climbing Martin like a fencepost. “Is there anything that helps? Or is this just...normal?” Jon shook his head and sighed, leaning into his side.

“I’m sorry, Martin. I’ve never really been good at this ‘resting’ business.”

“What if I wrapped you up in a blanket or something? Like a little burrito!” Martin framed it as a joke, but he was actually half-serious.

Jon gave a weak laugh. “I think I’d just roll out of it.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try!”

Turns out it did in fact hurt to try. Not forty minutes later did Jon roll out of his cocoon and off the bed, momentum carrying him almost to the wall. It would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the large bruise on his forehead and the ice pack he was now nursing as he sat on the couch, complaining.

It was still a little funny. And a bit of payback for all of the bruises he’d given Martin. But Martin was determined to find a solution to their little conundrum, and let them both get a good night’s sleep. If he was going to survive sleeping with Jon, he would need a little help.

_____

“What do you want, Blackwood?”

Martin sighed. All things considered, this was a rather tame greeting from Melanie. “Hi, Melanie. How are you?”

She glared at him for a moment too long before opening the door fully, gesturing for him to come in. “Usual. Heard you’ve got someone keeping you up all night.” She snickered, collapsing onto the sofa with a smirk and propping her legs up on the coffee table. Martin gaped.

“How did you-”

“Jon’s been texting Georgie. And what Jon texts Georgie, Georgie tells me.” She patted the couch cushion next to her. Martin shuffled over, plopping down with a sigh. “Never thought I’d see the day where Jonathan Sims landed a hit on someone.”

“I have no idea where that strength comes from!” He bit out, happy to have someone to commiserate with. Melanie’s never complained to him about Georgie, though they aren’t really on close enough terms to confide in each other like that. “He’s completely still and then wham! Foot to the shin. How do you stand it?”

Melanie shrugged. “Georgie doesn’t do that anymore. Not since she got one of those weighted blankets from a sponsor. Sleeps like a log, she does.” Martin paused.

“Huh.”

“Yup.”

Why didn’t I think of that? He’d always considered buying one for his anxiety, though he never bit the bullet on the purchase. It seemed like a needless extravagance on his already limited budget. But it was worth it, for a decent night’s sleep. And being able to sleep in the same bed as Jon.

“We have another, if you want to try it out. They send us loads of free shit, it’s actually pretty wasteful.”

And so, armed with one incredibly heavy blanket and the hope of a restful night, Martin made his way back to their flat.

_______

“It’s got ghosts on it.”

“Cute, right?” Jon scowled.

“Look,” Martin sat down on the sofa, where Jon had been curled up for most of the day, still pouting over his head injury. “Just try it out! You might actually like it. And if you don’t...well, we’ll just try something else.” In actuality Martin wasn’t sure of any other options, but he figured he’d leave it open, try not to pressure him. “Here.”

He unfolded the blanket, large and black with tiny white ghosts on it, and held it out towards Jon enticingly. He rolled his eyes but still stretched out his legs for Martin to place it over. “Fine. If you must.”

He carefully spread it out on Jon’s legs, tucking it up around his waist. It was an adorable picture, really, Jon scowling and covered with all of those cartoonish ghosts. Martin felt him tense underneath it and he paused, ready for the inevitable failure of his experiment. “Too heavy?”

“No, it’s-” Jon shuffled around a bit, like a skittish animal trying to get its bearings. But then he melted before Martin’s eyes, leaning back on the couch with a look of utter relaxation that was so un-Jon like he had to do a double take. “Oh that’s-that’s rather nice, actually.”

Martin beamed. “So you like it?”

“I-maybe? Give me a minute.”

“Sure.” Ten minutes later he was passed out on the couch, utterly still. Like magic!

Mission accomplished.

_________

Jon dragged it into bed that night, noting with some grumpiness that the ghosts glowed in the dark. Martin thought he protested a bit too much.

“Childish nonsense. They didn’t have any others?”

“We can buy a different one, if you like.”

Jon let out a long-suffering sigh. “No, it’s...fine.”

And it was. Within twenty minutes, the two of them fell into a peaceful sleep. Jon had the occasional fidget, but was so weighed down and sleepy that it was never more than a twitch. It was the best night’s sleep Martin had in ages, and he reckoned the same for Jon.

He woke up the next morning to find Jon had once again migrated in his sleep, though only to lay himself completely on top of Martin, unmoving otherwise. He was a dead weight in addition to the blanket, but he wasn’t being actively kicked or climbed or otherwise maimed.

Now this he could work with.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349760

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #also inspired by the many sleeping partners ive maimed throughout the years #sorry bout that #adhd jon au

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trashyswitch · 3 years

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Shaun's Playful Side

Shaun is feeling playful and bored, and pulls a few gags and pranks on his coworkers. Most of his coworkers can have a laugh out of Shaun's antics, but two of them find a need to get revenge...

This was a fanfic I had written in a separate fanfic writing spot that I had for a few months to a year. It was fun to write then, and it was extra fun to edit and upload here.

This fanfic is for @secretly-tword-obsessed. I hope you enjoy!

It was nearing the end of the long work day, and Dr. Browne was getting ready to leave. As she was getting ready, she couldn’t help but reflect over the day. She reflected over a few different things, often having to do with the patients. But the one thing she certainly reflected on, was Shaun and his silliness today.

Now, usually silliness wasn’t tolerated in the workplace. But Shaun kept his silliness under control during the work shifts. But when they were given free time...that was a whole different story today.

For some reason, Shaun had been acting a lot like a mischievous child during his breaks. Whenever they weren’t in surgery, weren’t focusing on something serious, or weren’t with/talking about the patient, Shaun would do weird things like: -play with Dr. Browne’s hair -poke Dr. Reznick multiple times -placing zip ties on Dr. Andrew’s stuff -spam Dr. Melendez with texts And: -attempt to balance different things on Dr. Park’s head.

Dr. Park and Dr. Browne saw Shaun’s unusual antics as a funny joke. They just assumed that Shaun was either feeling playful that day or trying to eliminate boredom.

Dr. Park actually found it quite funny when Shaun would come up with things to balance on his head. He even went along with it and helped him pile books on his head. Then, a goofy smile filled Shaun’s face the moment all the books came falling down. Dr. Park yelped and looked down. “Oh no!”

Shaun looked at him with a smile despite his disappointment. “It fell.”

Dr. Park chuckled. “Really? I didn’t notice! Like, at all” He said, over exaggerating his sarcasm.

Shaun pointed at him awkwardly like he usually did. “You’re being sarcastic. That’s meant to be a joke. I liked it.” Shaun explained.

“Yes, it was. And thank you.” Dr. Park said with a playful bow. “Now: How flat is your head?” Dr. Park asked, picking up the books.

Shaun felt his own head and fluffed his hair a little. “I don’t know.”

Dr. Park held up a book. “Wanna find out?” Dr. Park asked.

Shaun’s smile returned for a bit as he nodded.

And Dr. Melendez happened to walk in as Shaun and Dr. Park managed to get 3 books balanced atop Shaun’s head.

Dr. Browne would be thinking of something or reading, when Shaun would just start playing with her hair. It started with feeling it, and soon turned into uncurling and letting go of the curls. “What are you doing?” Dr. Browne asked.

“Your hair is curly. Boing boing.” Shaun said in his monotone voice.

Dr. Browne practically lost it when Shaun said ‘boing’ in the most unenthusiastic voice possible. And the ‘boing’ noises just kept going too. And Dr. Browne loved every moment of it. It was rare to see Shaun acting like this.

Dr. Andrews was a little annoyed at first. He found the zip ties everywhere, somewhat inconvenient. But, he did get some humor out of seeing the scissors, even the scissors, zip tied together. When he went to the video capturing computers to find out who it was, Dr. Andrews was plenty surprised to find out it was Shaun. Though, he supposed he didn’t fully know Shawn outside of work.

“Shaun, can you get me a pair of scissors and come to my office please?” Dr. Andrews asked.

Shaun immediately smiled as the scissors part gave away what he wanted.

When Shaun arrived at his office, Dr. Andrews was smiling and pointing to him. “I looked at the cameras...and found out you were the zip tie man.” Dr. Andrews reacted. “Now I’ll be honest: I was a little surprised at first.” Dr. Andrews admitted.

Shaun looked down, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry.”

Dr. Andrews blinked in surprise. Oh gosh- “No no no! It’s fine! It was funny. Especially seeing the scissors zip tied. That’s a classic.” Dr. Andrews told him.

Shaun looked at him with curiosity. “Now, can you cut these scissors free so I can use them to get my stuff untied?” Dr. Andrews asked, handing him the scissors.

Shaun nodded and cut the ziptie off the scissors. But when Dr. Andrews walked up to take the scissors from him, Shawn started backing up. At first, Dr. Andrews worried he may have been doing something wrong. But then, Dr. Andrews noticed something that told him everything:

Shaun’s little smile.

“Shaun...Shawn I need the scissors.” Dr. Andrews told him, walking closer.

Shaun walked another step back and shook his head with the smile on his face.

“Don’t make me come over there.” Dr. Andrews ordered. “You’re 26 years old. You know better.” Dr. Andrews reminded.

“This is fun.” Shawn told him.

“Oh?” Dr. Andrews smirked. “You want fun? Okay. I’ll give you fun.” Dr. Andrews took off running for Shaun and smiled wider when he watched Shaun turn right around and take off running.

It didn’t take long for Dr. Andrews to hunt him down and get the scissors off him. Dr. Andrews even got Dr. Browne in on helping him. In response to that; Dr. Browne started tickling Shaun and soon got the scissors from the evil Shaun Murphy.

Meanwhile, Dr. Melendez and Dr. Reznick were NOT happy with with the jokes. Morgan saw it as inappropriate for any time of the day and didn’t want him to do anything to her. Not only that, but Shaun’s poking almost revealed a secret that she’s always wanted to get away from. But luckily, it was only Shaun and her in the room when it happened. After that, Shaun’s hand was grabbed and he was verbally forced to stop.

For Dr. Melendez, receiving multiple texts from a resident that just said “hi”, can make you question how useful your phone really is. Dr. Melendez had been spending some of the day questioning if he should either break his phone against the floor, or throw it right at Shaun’s face. Both seemed tempting after all those texts.

Luckily, that hasn’t happened yet...

Fast forwarding to after work, Dr. Browne was closing her locker when Dr. Reznick bursted through the locker room door. “I swear, I am going to KILL SHAUN!” Dr. Reznick yelled.

“Holy shit! What did he do to you?” Dr. Browne asked, both surprised and amused by her reaction to a harmless prank.

“He kept poking me without stopping! It took me 5 tries to get him to permanently stop!” Dr. Reznick yelled.

Dr. Browne just giggled at her.

“Why are you laughing? Getting poked all day is NOT! FUNNY!” Dr. Reznick yelled.

“Come on, Morgan. He’s just trying to have some fun.” Dr. Browne defended with a smile on her face.

“Ha! Fun? You call “getting poked constantly” fun?” Dr. Reznick argued.

“Yes. It sounds a bit better than what he did to me. He kept playing with my hair and calling it bouncy.” Dr. Browne said.

“Well...your hair is bouncy...” Dr. Reznick muttered under her breath.

Suddenly, Dr. Melendez bursted into the room.

“I did it! I worked up the courage to throw my phone at Shaun.” Dr. Melendez cheered.

Dr. Reznick cheered with him. “Yeah! That’ll show him!”

“What?! Why the hell would you do that?” Dr. Browne asked angrily.

“He kept spamming my phone with pointless texts!” Dr. Melendez yelled.

Dr. Browne laughed at her boss’s reaction.

Soon, Dr. Andrews walked into the locker room, holding a big pile of cut zip ties. “I found out who the Zip Tie Man is.” Dr. Andrews said with a laugh. “And the scissors stealer! Don’t ever give Shawn any office scissors again. He’ll run away with them.” Dr. Andrews told them.

Dr. Melendez bursted out laughing at that. “And here I am, giving the guy a scalpel and my phone number!” Dr. Melendez reacted.

Dr. Andrews blinked in surprise. “Wait...I wasn’t the only one zip tied?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Yes, but you weren’t the only one getting pranked or messed with.” Dr. Browne told him.

“I got poked constantly.” Dr. Reznick told him.

Dr. Melendez rolled his eyes. “I was spammed with texts.”

“And I had my hair played with. Which, it actually felt nice! He’s very gentle with people’s hair.” Dr. Browne told them.

“Hey, what if we were to treat him like the child he was?” Dr. Reznick asked. Dr. Browne didn’t like the sound of this...

“Like, payback? Okay. But how? He doesn’t think like us, so he could see the action the complete opposite from what we meant to communicate.” Dr. Melendez warned.

Dr. Reznick thought of ideas, and started to think of her almost embarassing situation earlier. This triggered an idea.

“Hey, I have an idea.” Dr. Reznick said as she walked up, before whispering the idea into Dr. Melendez’s ear.

“Why didn’t I think of that?! That’s probably the most childish revenge I can think of.” Dr. Melendez exclaimed. Dr. Reznick smirked as she looked at Dr. Browne, who looked scared out of her skin.

“What? Poking him to oblivion like he did to you?” Dr. Andrews asked.

“Nope. Tickling him.” Dr. Reznick replied.

Dr. Andrews smiled. “Oooooh! I know exactly where you should go for! Dr. Browne happened to be showing me this morning!” Dr. Andrews told them. “This is where you go:”

Dr. Andrews took the time to tell them, and ignored Dr. Browne’s protests that ‘they weren’t true’ or ‘you shouldn’t’. But Dr, Melendez and Dr. Reznick were all for getting revenge. This was gonna be so fun!

Meanwhile: Shaun soon left Dr. Glassman’s office and started heading towards the locker room. He opened the room door and walked in.

“Hello.” Shaun said.

“Hi Shaun.” Dr. Reznick said, oddly cheerful for being annoyed. Shaun noticed this.

“What are you happy about?” Shaun asked.

“Nothing.” Dr. Reznick replied. Shaun noticed many signs that said otherwise.

“You’re lying.” Shaun observed.

“No I’m not.” Dr. Reznick said in a sing-song voice. Shaun started to feel a mixture of fastination and worry. He looked over to Dr. Browne, who shrugged rather nervously. Shaun didn’t like this weird turn.

“What’s going on?” Shaun asked.

“Oh nothing.” Dr. Melendez said behind Shaun, making him jump.

“Hello...why are you two acting strange?” Shaun asked. His boss and his least favourite partner were now circling him, causing him to feel more nervous by the second.

“Oh, you’ve never seen this side of us? Kind of like how we’ve never seen your playful, mischievous side, until now?” Dr. Melendez said bluntly. Shaun started smiling a little bit.

“This is about my playful mood today. It doesn’t happen often.” Shaun admitted.

“Really? That’s good to know.” Dr. Reznick reacted.

“How?” Shaun asked as he followed Dr. Reznick.

Suddenly, Dr. Melendez pounced on Shaun, causing Shaun to fall backwards to the ground.

“I don’t like the look of this...” Shaun admited as he felt his wrists get gripped by Dr. Reznick.

“Since you’ve been acting like a child all day, we’re going to treat you like one.” Dr. Reznick said while Dr. Melendez removed Shaun’s shoes.

“I know what you’re planning. It is not good.” Shaun said, attempting to struggle. However, Dr. Reznick was stronger than her appearance led him to believe.

Before Shaun knew it, he began feeling ticklish sensations on the balls of his feet.

“Hehehe! Wait! I’m sorry! Haha! Please! Hehe! Let me go!” Shaun begged, attempting to squirm out of his trap. Dr. Browne stared wide-eyed, as Dr. Reznick and Dr. Melendez’s secret plan started.

“Wow! Not even 5 seconds in, and we’re hearing Shaun beg. We haven’t even started!” Dr. Melendez said, looking at Dr. Reznick before picking up the pace.

Dr. Andrews chuckled from his hiding spot. He was recording the whole thing on his phone.

Shaun was full-blown laughing now!

“Hahahaha! Wait! Nohoho! Hahahaha!” Shaun laughed.

“You know, Shaun, you should laugh more. You know why? Because I have never heard you laugh like this before.” Dr. Melendez explained. It was then and there that Dr. Melendez decided to start going for underneath the toes like Dr. Andrews suggested.

“Hahahaha! HA! HEY! HAHAHA!” Shaun yelled, as his laughter grew slightly louder.

“Oooh! Sweet spot!” Dr. Reznick proclaimed as she held Shaun’s wrists. Shaun was squirming even more now, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hold him still. Dr. Melendez noticed this and stopped for a moment.

“Did you wanna switch for a bit?” Dr. Melendez asked. Shaun was breathing hard.

“W-wait...no...any-anything but...that...the nails! They’re...worse.” Shaun admitted between breaths.

Those words made Dr. Reznick immediately nod. “You know what? Sure.” Dr. Reznick agreed and let go of Shaun’s wrists. They switched spots quickly, so that Shaun didn’t run away on them.

“Alright. Since Dr. Melendez had already worked on your feet, I’m gonna go somewhere different.” Dr. Reznick said as she looked for a good spot. She decided to try the top of his knees first.

“Wait! Don’t go for my knees!” Shaun said angrily, before kicking Dr. Reznick’s knees.

“Hey! Watch where you’re kicking! And for that...” Dr. Reznick warned before sitting on Shaun’s lower legs.

“Oh no...” Shaun thought out loud.

Dr. Reznick started squeezing Shaun’s knees.

“Ah! D-don’t! Gahahaha! Stahap!” Shaun yelled through his laughter.

“Aww! Is this too much? Here: Let’s see if this is better.” Dr. Reznick teased before poking at the back of Shaun’s knees.

“EEEEEEKK! NOHOHOHAHAHAHA! STAHAP! THAT’S WORSE! THAT’S WORSE!! HAHAHAHA!” Shaun screamed as he struggled to stop her fingers.

“Oh my! I think that’s a lot better!” Dr. Reznick teased.

Shaun’s mind was going crazy! All he could think about was how vulnerable and ticklish he was! Not only that, but Shaun’s hands were stuck above him, which made it impossible to stop Dr. Reznick. “COHOHOME OHON! I’M SORRY! PLEHEHEASE!” Shaun begged.

“Come on guys...He’s growing tired.” Dr. Browne tried to tell them.

But Dr. Reznick paused and checked his pulse. “Nope! He’s fine! Aren’t ya, Shaun?” Dr. Reznick teased.

Shaun had an uncontrollable smile on his face, and Dr. Andrews noticed this immediately. “Look at that man. He likes it!” Dr. Andrews reacted.

“Likes it?” Dr. Reznick asked.

“Aww, but that’s not nearly as fun…” Dr. Melendez reacted.

“Yes it is! That just makes this situation even better!” Dr. Andrews reacted. “Right Shaun?”

Shaun looked at him. “Ihi’m not tickled often. This is very fun and worth all the pranks.”

Well, didn’t that earn Shaun even more tickles!

Soon, Dr. Reznick decided to slow her fingers down, and give the boy a break. Shaun’s laughing and squirming quickly died down.

“Alright. Where should we move to next?” Dr. Renick thought aloud.

“Okay guys, I think that’s enough.” Dr. Reznick heard behind her. She turned around and her eyes locked with Dr. Park’s eyes.

“Come on, let him go.” Dr. Park ordered.

“And why should we?” Dr. Melendez asked.

“He’s exhausted, he’s sweating, he’s as red as a tomato, and he’s struggling to breath without coughing.” Dr. Park explained as he counted with his fingers. “I think he’s had enough.”

Dr. Reznick and Dr. Melendez both sighed as they let Shaun go and stood up. Shaun continued laying on the floor, gasping for air. Dr. Browne and Dr. Park walked over to Shaun to aid him.

“You okay?” Dr. Browne asked.

Shaun continued to breathe in deeply and rapidly, to ensure that he got air in his lungs sooner than later. He was letting out leftover giggles as he attempted to breath. Since he failed to talk, Shaun nodded in response.

“Holy shit! You are sweaty!” Dr. Park reacted to Shaun’s wet bangs, as they stuck to his forehead due to sweat. Shaun smiled in response and wiped his forehead. “That was fun!” Shaun declared.

Dr. Park turned around. “I- really?!” He reacted.

“Shaun likes being tickled apparently.” Dr. Melendez said.

“Huh...Looks like I have something to tease you about now.” Dr. Park decided.

#funny shawn murphy #angry morgan reznick #annoyed neil melendez #playful marcus andrews #ticklefic #ler!claire #ler!morgan #ler!neil #lee!shaun #fluff and humor

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