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cherryrogers · 4 years

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➸ call me baby {2/3}

SUMMER NIGHTS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | biker au

warnings: swearing, violence, implied smut, mainly fluff.

word count: 7.8k

synopsis: Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker. And when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either. That was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

series masterlist

a/n: ok so this has turned into a three part series!! the next part will likely be a bit shorter, but i wanted to wrap up the story properly and i felt that needed it’s own separate part. i’m gonna post a masterlist for this series tomorrow, and i might write some drabbles for this fic to add to it once it’s finished if anyone has any hc/drabble ideas they’d like to send in?? i need to stop rambling so much lmao,,, please enjoy!!

Sunsets; consisting of an array of warm tones, reds and oranges bleeding into each other, casting a dim, natural light over cities before the artificial yellow beaming of street lamps lit up the world instead. A comforting reminder that every bad day eventually ends, but a sad reminder that every perfect day ends too.

In your case, they’d been unsettling ends to a continuous string of perfect days. And following those, a bright sunrise poured light through your windows every morning, indicating that you were one day closer to the end of the summer.

Currently, the deep, warm sky was the background of a blissful ride through the city. Perched on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, your arms enveloping his waist, fingertips grazing lightly over his stomach through his shirt. No destination in particular; just an excuse to be close to one another.

Since the night at Wanda’s bar, the night where you simply let yourself begin to feel for Bucky, things had been different. Better.

Rides around the city were a frequent occurrence, usually happening when Bucky offered to take you home on his bike, but taking the long way back to enjoy the view and the feeling of you next to him for a short while longer.

It was therapeutic, tranquil. Well, until your road rage got the best of you.

“Dude, it’s a green light,” You shouted at the car in front you. “Green means go, didn’t you learn that in kindergarten?”

“Christ, you realise you’re yellin’ straight in my ear, right?”

“Sorry, Buck,” You patted his chest apologetically, before proceeding to yell once again. “Not my fault some people don’t know how traffic lights work!”

It was entertaining to Bucky, anyway. Even if it did earn you some middle fingers, which you gladly returned.

As the sky began to lose its vibrant hue, the two of you headed back in the direction of your place, definitely your least favourite part of the ride, but you savoured it nevertheless.

You were friends. Teasing each other incessantly because you just bounced off one another like that, but you often found yourself gravitating towards him. During meals at the clubhouse, you sat in the same spot as you did when you entered the place for the first time; right next to Bucky. While that likely meant for Steve and Peggy that they were in for a painful time, consisting of them slowly losing their patience with you both, they didn’t mind. Well, they did a little.

It’d been almost two hours since you started your game of Monoply. You weren’t sure if you were anywhere near the end of the game, but everyone was still pretty into it. Clint and Sam were paired up as a team, Steve and Peggy shared the little top-hat token, you and Bucky had the wheelbarrow, and Natasha had the car. She claimed she worked better when was on her own team, which was proved to be true by the fact she was winning.

It was Steve and Peggy’s turn to roll, and their top hat was moved to land on the ‘Boardwalk’ space.

“Oh, that’s our space!” You chirped. “Pay up, my dudes.”

“_____, you don’t have a house on that space.”

“Well, could you pass me one? I want this space.”

“You have to buy one.”

“Then I’ll buy one.”

Peggy sighed. “It’s not your turn, you can’t buy a house. Your token isn’t even on that space.”

You furrowed your brows, turning to Bucky. Maybe you should’ve read the rules before playing; you’d never actually played Monoply before. “Oh. That kinda sucks then.”

After a moment, Bucky reached over to the little bag of houses, picking one out and placing it on the Boardwalk space.

“Buck, that’s cheating.” Steve glared at his friend, who only shrugged innocently.

“She’s never played before, let her just have the damn house.”

“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause she’s on your team, jerk.”

Bucky just shrugged again, turning to shoot you a wink as you smirked in satisfaction and placing your little house on the space, missing Steve and Peggy sharing a look of annoyance as they passed a pile of yellow bills over to you.

It was safe to say the two of you weren’t allowed to play as a team during board games anymore. Natasha always won the games anyway, so it’s not like you and him cheating made much of a difference.

You thought things were moving smoothly with Bucky. You knew that you liked him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew that — it was pretty fucking obvious at this point. But it would be a rather dumb move to escalate things even if you wanted to. The summer would be over in two months, one third of it was already gone, and you would be too by the beginning of September. Naively, you’d told yourself that you simply wouldn’t take things further. Easy enough, right?

Wrong; so very wrong. You’d proved to yourself that you seriously needed to stop acting impulsively on one fateful after a day spent at the clubhouse.

You’d been about to leave, but had decided to head off to the office where Bucky had been pretty much all evening while everyone else was out in the backyard, which was odd considering you would’ve assumed he’d be the last to not spend the night drinking beer and hanging out with friends over, well, anything else.

You knocked loudly on the door, hearing shuffling and the clicking of a computer keyboard before a quiet ‘come in’ followed. Furrowing your brows, you stepped into the room, eyes landing on the biker slumped in the chair at the desk, forcing a small smile. Did he really think your were that oblivious?

“You’ve been hiding in here all night,” You approaches the desk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is there something you wanna share with the class?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered between the computer screen and your face, before he shook his head. “Just dealin’ with club stuff.”

“Hm, and what counts as club stuff?”

“It’s stuff you don’t need to worry about.”

You scoffed. “Huh, what happened to not doing stuff you shouldn’t be? Not getting into trouble?”

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Bucky questioned bluntly, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

Mirroring his expression, you leaned against the desk next to him. “Not when someone is clearly trying to hide something.

The biker bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating for a few moments. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. Sure, he’d only known you around a month now, but you were... his friend. A good friend. He just didn’t want you mixed up in anything dangerous. Steve wasn’t lying when he said that the club tried to stay out of trouble, because they definitely didn’t go out of their way to get into shitty situations. But if they needed to get their hands a little dirty to deal with clubs that thrived off trouble, then so be it.

Eventually, Bucky sighed, moving a hand back over his computer mouse and letting the screen light up again. Crinkling your brows, your eyes scanned the screen. He’d been looking at a map of Brooklyn, and the little red location pointer was pinned onto a warehouse downtown.

“Peter Parker, he’s just a kid. Parents died when he was barely five, lost his uncle a few years back. He lives at home with his aunt in Queens since he’s still in school, but we sorta took him in a while ago. The night after his uncle died, Tony found him on the sitting on the curb a few blocks away from here, completely distraught. He managed to talk him down though, and found out he was pretty good with engineering. We said if he wanted, he could help out with fixing bikes and cars at the clubhouse, and he comes by every so often since then.”

You didn’t know Tony that well; he was a little older than the rest of the club, and he lived outside of the clubhouse with his wife, Pepper. You hadn’t met Peter at all, but you trusted Bucky when he said that he was a good kid.

“Last week, he showed up to the here with a busted lip and broken nose. Said that Rumlow and his guys had jumped him, and that they wanted him to do a job for them — collect a weapon shipment from this warehouse.” Bucky nodded towards the screen.

At the mention of Brock Rumlow, you felt your jaw tighten. Thankfully, he’d kept his distance from Wanda’s bar since your last encounter with him, but you were still pissed off about the show he put on there, and there was nothing you regretted more than not jumping over the bar top and kicking him in the balls. Now he’d resorted to threatening a kid and making him do his dirty work?

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Peter’s meant to meet the guy delivering the weapons next week, so I’m gonna take Nat, Sam and Tony down to the warehouse and deal with any of Rumlow’s guys that are nearby.”

Upon seeing your face light up, Bucky chuckled, standing from his seat. “And no, you can’t come.”

“Bucky, I’m not a woman of many talents, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s handing people’s asses to them.” You lifted your chin confidently.

“Baby—”

You held a finger up to shush him. “Okay, I know I said that I liked when you call me that, but not now. Brock is the guy that grabbed me, Buck. And the guy that punched you in the face!”

“I know, and we’ll deal with him,” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I thought you weren’t part of any club. Can’t do club stuff if you’re not a member.”

“Well, not that I want to... but how would one go about becoming part of your little gang?” You weren’t lying; you definitely did not want to be a damn biker, but you did want the chance to boot Brock Rumlow and his group of dipshits in the face.

“You could become an old lady.” The biker cocked a brow, and you chuckled heartily.

Not that you were up to date with the biker lingo, but you could take a good guess at what being an old lady meant. “Hm, if only there was someone that wanted me to be their old lady.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky glanced over your features, waiting for you to laugh and brush the comment off as a joke since the majority of your vocabulary was sarcasm, but you didn’t. The corners of your lips curled up slightly, not teasingly, but softly...

...Until you became painfully aware of the silence that’d fell upon the two of you, and let out a sigh to break it. It was already late when you were supposed to leave, anyway. Now, the dim moonlight was casting shadows outside of the office window, the only source of bright light being the yellow streams from lampposts dotted up and down the quiet street.

“Well, I should get going.” You reluctantly stepped back from him.

“You don’t have to go, you know. Peggy stays overnight when it’s late.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, cause Peggy has a boyfriend that she can share a bed with.”

“Hey, I’ve got a double bed.” Bucky teased, and you’d be lying if you said sleeping next to him in his bed didn’t make you feel a certain type of way.

Though, you definitely wouldn’t let him know that. “You’re stupid, Bucky.”

He shrugged, following you as you continued for the door of the office. “I mean, even if I had a single—”

“I would still not be getting in your bed,” You deadpanned, finishing his sentence for him and promoting the stupidly hot little smirk of his to appear again. “Okay, now I’m leaving. Goodbye, Bucky.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you will not,” You breathed out a laugh. “There are two bottles of beer on that desk and death isn’t on the cards for me tonight — can’t get rid of me that easily.”

A look of realisation washed over his face, a pink colour tinting his cheeks. Was Bucky Barnes blushing? That was certainly a sight, and what a sight it was.

“S’alright — I don’t wanna get rid of you,” The biker stepped in front of you, dangerously close as your back hit the door. “Not yet, anyway.”

You couldn’t lie; Bucky was hot, he was beautiful. Even when he was being a sarcastic ass, but he was just as much one of them as you were. God dammit, as much as you wanted to slap yourself for letting your insides melt for a guy you didn’t know all that well, you knew that if you didn’t fucking kiss him right this second that you’d regret the hell out of it later.

And so, you did.

You grabbed the collar of the leather jacket he never failed to make an appearance without— or perhaps he just had a lot of leather jackets, though leather jackets didn’t necessarily need washed so it was probably the same jacket— not the time, _____. Carrying on, you swiftly captured his lips with yours, relief washing through you as you felt him react almost immediately. Almost, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to do that.

The kiss was gentle; gentle enough so that you could simply savour the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste a mixture of smoke and minty chewing gum. It was slow, but quick. Bucky didn’t even have the chance to move his hands to your waist before you pulled back, raising your hand to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

“You still planning on getting rid of me?” You grinned, amused by the biker’s dumbfounded expression.

He laughed breathily after a couple of seconds, nose nudging yours playfully. “Not if you keep kissin’ me like that, baby.”

“Hm, maybe you’ll just get lucky again.” You pushed at his chest softly, letting you step forward and open the door to leave the office.

Bucky let out a scoff. “You’re really just gonna leave? After that?”

You shrugged, cocking a brow. “I mean, I could stay if you let me come with you next week...”

“No chance,” He smiled smugly. “Shut the door on your way out, will you?”

“You know what? I’m never kissing you again.”

“Whatever you say, _____.”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, turning to make your way out of the room. “And I’m leaving the door open!”

“Hm, get home safe.” He called back.

Trying to bite back a smile as you looked over your shoulder back at him, you mouthed a final goodbye and left the office, a rush of feelings suddenly emerging as you stepped out of the clubhouse and onto the street.

You’d just kissed Bucky. You had kissed Bucky. And he had kissed you back. Well, shit.

Did you need to talk about it with him? What it meant for the two of you? Did he just kiss you for the fun of it or did he actually have feelings for you? Ugh. You’d always hated serious conversations, because apparently using sarcasm to cover up actually talking about your feelings was inappropriate and unhealthy. That’s what Peggy always told you, anyway. Perhaps there was no conversation to be had. Bucky could be your summer fling; a couple of months of fun before you were off on your travels again. The only reason he kissed you back might’ve been because he knew you were leaving eventually, which meant he didn’t have to commit to you.

Whatever — you were simply going to go with the flow. If you and Bucky ended up becoming... something more, that would be great. If not, you’d be slightly disappointed, but you’d be out of Brooklyn soon enough to forget about it.

And now, as you tightened your arms around the biker’s waist, you just enjoyed the moment. As someone that rarely stayed in a city for longer than a couple of weeks, enjoying the moment was all that you could do.

* * *

“Pegs, I am working. You can’t just call and ask me this kinda stuff during a shift.”

“I certainly can, especially when I had to hear it first from Steve.”

A strained sign fell from your lips as you leaned against bar, checking that no customers were approaching the counter before you turned your back. “I was gonna tell you, I promise. I didn’t think Bucky was gonna kiss and tell as soon as it happened.”

“I don’t think it was exactly a kiss and tell situation,” Peggy chuckled over the phone. “Steve said it was written all over his face after you’d left the clubhouse.”

Feeling heat rushing to your own face, you lowered your head, hoping no one was observing the bartender getting all embarrassed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Peggy about your kiss with Bucky. She was your best friend, of course you wanted to tell her. But considering that you weren’t really sure what direction you and him were going in, you thought perhaps that it’d be better to just keep it between you and him, like a Danny and Sandy situation — if everyone had known about their summer affair, it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Can you... tell him to not question Bucky about it?” You asked. “You told me he’d never been in a proper relationship before and neither have I. I think we need to work out... whatever we are ourselves, you know?”

Since the kiss, you hadn’t had the chance to even see Bucky that much. Wanda had been asking you to work more shifts at the bar because one of your co-workers was going on vacation for two weeks, which you didn’t mind doing. Other than hanging out with Peggy and seeing everyone at the clubhouse, it’s not like you had much better to do. Plus, it meant more money to put towards your travels at the end of the summer. At the rate you were earning and including what you already had saved up, you’d be getting your dream London trip a lot sooner than you’d thought.

“Of course, I understand,” She replied. “_____, I— I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, but have you thought about what’ll happen when summer ends? When you leave Brooklyn?”

The thought had crossed your mind, yes, though it was also pushed to the back of your mind whenever it popped up. In all honesty, you had zero clue what’d happen when you left Brooklyn again.

“Nope,” You said defeatedly. “Do I need to think about that now? What if we don’t even last until the end of summer?”

From the pause in conversation, you could just tell that Peggy knew you were bullshitting. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you did not just say that. You don’t just kiss guys, _____. And Bucky doesn’t get all flushed from kissing any old woman. It’s obvious you two click easily, and I honestly don’t think it’s something that can just end once you leave.”

The girl was right, she was completely right, but you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do. It’s not like you could stay in Brooklyn forever and abandon your travels. That wasn’t who you were; staying wouldn’t be you being true to yourself. You couldn’t throw that away for a man you barely knew, a guy that possibly may not want you anymore after the summer ends, though there was a large part of you that didn’t believe that.

“I can’t talk about this right now, Peggy, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the kiss earlier, everything is just... it’s just confusing,” You rambled, wanting to steer the conversation away from your love life for the night. It was nearing nine o’clock, and with an hour still left of your shift, you didn’t want to waste your energy on a conversation that could be had another time. “Anyway, how is everyone? Has Steve heard from Bucky?”

This night was also the night that poor Peter Parker was meant to be carrying out Rumlow’s dirty work, and Bucky was going to get his club to back off. Well, hopefully. He’d already been punched in the face by that bastard once, you hoped that he’d be able to avoid having that happen again. You’d texted him earlier, telling him to let you know when he was home and safe because you would, in fact, worry about him. He teased you for your concern, but you frankly didn’t care. The fact they were having Peter pick up a weapon shipment implied that they wanted to use them to hurt people, and opposing biker clubs seemed like the type of people they’d target.

“They’ve been out an hour, so they should hopefully be back soon,” Peggy assured you. “We haven’t heard from them yet, though.”

“Right,” You exhaled, a little upset that there was no update from them. The sound of the door opening a few metered behind you reminded you that you were still at work, and that you should probably say goodbye to Peggy for the time being. “I’ve gotta go, Pegs — duty calls. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright, darling. Be careful going home.”

With a quiet ‘will do’, you quickly ended the phone call and shoved the device into your jean pocket, turning around to identify the source of the footsteps getting closer to the bar. Well, fuck.

An ugly smirk, scruffy jaw, messy hair — Brock fucking Rumlow was standing right in front of you.

You could’ve laughed, in fact, you did laugh. He was back, even after the embarrassing show he put on last time he was at the bar, and this time, he was alone.

Putting back the glass you’d pulled out from under the bar on instinct, because there was no way you were serving him, you cocked a brow, waiting for him to make the first move.

He slid onto the stool in front of you, the same place he’d sat during his last visit. There was a short silence as his dark eyes roamed your face, before he exhaled heavily. “You not gonna ask for my order?”

“No.” You answered instantly. It looked like he was expecting the cold shoulder from the way he chuckled at your answer.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, why he wasn’t down at that random warehouse making sure the teenager he manipulated was doing the job correctly, but you didn’t imagine it was a good idea to let on that Bucky was telling you about that sort of stuff. He’d probably try to hurt him as opposed to you, and you didn’t want to put Bucky in any unnecessary shit.

“You know, it’s against the law to refuse service to an innocent customer.”

Clearly, he didn’t know the law at all, but you found it awfully ironic that he was claiming that you were in the wrong side of the law. You cocked your brow higher. “And you’re always abiding by the law, Brock?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” The man narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged nonchalantly. “Last time you were here, you were the one assaulting an innocent customer, and me.”

Brock scoffed. “You’re calling Barnes innocent?”

You only stared at him, waiting for an elaboration.

“Do you know where he is right now?”

Yes — dealing with your bullshit and the rest of your gang.

“Enlighten me.”

“A dirty warehouse across town, meeting a dude that’s sellin’ him weapons. Rifles, pistols, you name it.” He leaned forward on his elbows, pursing his lips.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you met his eyes, dark and full of hope that he’d somehow miraculously turned you against Bucky -- he was going to have to try a little harder than that if he wanted to sell his lies.

“Where are the rest of you pals, Brock?”

He furrowed his brows. “Down at the warehouse, shutting down the deal.”

“And why aren’t you with them, hm? I don’t think it’s ‘cause you decided you wanted a drink over the chance to screw Bucky and his club over.”

The guy clearly thought you were oblivious, that you’d be naive enough to believe that Bucky was the one having Peter collect the weapons instead of him. Maybe he thought it’d turn you against him, and then you’d carelessly join Rumlow’s club without a second thought. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you anything, there wasn’t a thing that could come out of Rumlow’s mouth that could convince you Bucky’s club was doing anything of the sort.

Unfortunately, the comment seemed to tip the conversation in the exact way you hadn’t wanted it to.

Brock’s jaw clenched, eyes hardening as he sat up properly on the stool. “What’s he been tellin’ you, huh?”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Brock.” You glared at the man. There was no way you were letting him sit and annoy the shit out of you when you weren’t going to serve him.

“You see,” He laughed emptily. “If Barnes has been spillin’ things that he shouldn’t be, I need to know. Can’t have any false information spreading.”

“False information, right,” You muttered. In your defense, all you knew about his club was about them manipulating Peter. Though you could assume that wasn’t the only stupid shit they were doing, you didn’t know anything else for sure. “Well, you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything, so get out of here.”

Brock tutted, rising from his seat and cracking his knuckles. “You’re a good liar, but I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“That’s not my problem,” You glowered, loving quickly around the bar to pace towards the door, opening it in an attempt to lure him out. “You need to go, or I’ll call Wanda over.”

Stalking towards you, the man shook his head. “If Barnes thinks he can tell his little girlfriend all of our business, he’s a fucking idiot,” He took a grasp on your wrist, his other hand curling into a fist. “Someone’s gotta show him what the consequences of that are.”

Anger flashed in your eyes as you struggled against his grip. “Get off me, dude. I don’t know anything.”

“Liar.” He murmured, before taking his fist and colliding it with your cheek abruptly.

A groan of pain left your lips as you stumbled back, the clutch on your wrist gone as Brock eyed you cautiously. Carefully, you brought your hand to where you’d been hit, blood quickly staining your fingertips as they grazed over the cuts on your skin from Brock’s rings. He’d hit you. That stupid, fucking son of a bitch had punched you. If there was any justifiable reason for you to kick him in the balls, this was it, and you were going to take advantage of the opportunity.

He definitely thought you were done with him for the night; you could tell by the way his chapped lips curled into a sick smile. He thought he’d won — how cute.

When your parents made you take self-defense classes ‘just as a precaution’ when you were a teenager, you thought it was unreasonable. Now, you’d never been more thankful.

Brushing your hair out of your face, your eyes flickered up to Brock, who was still staring down at you. Slowly, you moved so that your back was pressed against the closed bar door, clasping your hands around the long metal handle. The man assumed you were just catching your breath, and wasn’t ready for when you forcefully pushed your body forward, raising a booted foot and slamming it into his crotch.

A string of swear words fell from his lips as his upper body fell forward, Fuck it, you thought, striding over to his hunched over form and smashing your own fist against his cheek. He staggered back, just catching himself on the bar. Eyes wide, he raised his head to scowl at you, spitting blood from his freshly split lip onto the floor beside him.

From the other side of the bar, Wanda jogged over to the scene, an unimpressed scowl on her face. “What the hell is going on?”

The woman knew it wasn’t you causing the trouble, and there was even a smug smirk threatening to peak through her annoyed demeanor at the sight of Brock Rumlow with a split lip. She strode over to him, pulling him up harshly by the collar of his jacket.

“You’re banned from this bar. If I see you in here again, you’re getting a bullet straight through your gut, yes?” Wanda practically spat at the man, who nodded reluctantly and pulled away from her grasp. She turned to you, a small smile on her lips. “_____, you’re free to go early. Do you need...?”

Wanda eyed your cut cheek and bruised jaw, but you only shook your head. “Thanks, Wan, but I’ll just head home.”

The strawberry-blond nodded, sending a final glare towards Brock before heading back behind the bar.

Of course, your stubborn self wouldn’t let yourself leave without having the last word, causing you to approach him as he haphazardly stood from where he’d fallen. “If I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again, and you try to hurt me or anyone else, I’ll cut off your fingers and force them down your throat, you got that?”

Before you could wait for an answer, you were spinning around and heading out the double doors of the bar, ignoring the throb on the left side of your face as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. You’d never considered yourself to be a violent person, but when it came to assholes like Brock Rumlow, you didn’t mind getting your hands a little dirty. When you told Peggy about what happened, she’d likely scold you for even just mouthing back at him. You had zero regrets, however. You’d always wanted to experience a bar fight, and now you’d experienced one first hand.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Stretching out your aching knuckles, you swiped it from your jeans.

Back at the clubhouse safe and sound. You want me to pick you up from work in an hour?

You chuckled under your breath, typing out a response.

Can you come up now? Wanda let me off early.

Sure, I’ll be there soon. Did you do something special to get off at this time?

Pausing, you debated whether to let him know straight away about the incident. You decided against it; when he saw your face, he’d figure it out soon enough.

Something like that...

After twenty minutes of aimlessly standing outside of the bar, the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine caught your attention. As the bike came to a stop, the beaming headlights had you squinting to even make out the outline of Bucky in the dark. However, judging by the speed at which he was dismounting the bike, you were sure that the light had allowed him to see the state of you.

“Holy shit, _____,” Bucky paced over to you, hands coming to your shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Uh, rough shift?”

Scoffing, the biker narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, looks like it. What— are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You assured him, removing his hands from your shoulders and squeezing them comfortingly. “Trust me, you should see the other guy.”

“You were fighting?”

“Bucky,” You intervened, for now deciding against telling him that it was in fact Brock Rumlow you’d gotten on the wrong side of. It’d only result in him marching into the bar himself and starting another disturbance, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Wanda pulled out her pistol again. “C’mon, can we go? My house, the clubhouse, wherever — I’ll explain when half of my face isn’t aching like hell.”

The man paused, eyeing you cautiously before a soft chuckle left his lips. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You patted his chest, plastering on a smile. “Now come on; I didn’t wait this long to clean you up when you got decked across the face.”

With an amused eye roll, Bucky tugged on your hand and led you to the bike. He’d never seen someone so calm after getting a punch to the face, but then again — as cliché as it was — he’d never met anyone like you before.

Half an hour later, the biker had you sat on the counter-top in one of the bathrooms at the clubhouse, standing between your legs and gently dabbing at your cut with a wet cloth. The bleeding had stopped by the time you got to the clubhouse, but it still needed cleaned up. You were holding a cool ice pack to your jaw, watching him intently as he took care of you. Might as well take the opportunity to stare at the guy, right?

“I’m gonna put some antiseptic cream on the cut, just to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” He muttered, reaching for the tub of it in the wooden cabinet above you.

“Are you getting a sense of déjà vu too?” You quirked a brow, eliciting a smirk from him.

“Hm, a little bit; I guess we both just can’t avoid trouble,” Bucky cupped your jaw as he applied the cream, chuckling when you mumbled a ‘motherfucker’ under your breath at the sting. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Well,” You sighed. “Long story short... Brock Rumlow happened.”

Pulling back, Bucky furrowed his brows and waited for you to elongate the story, but you only shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. You knew that Brock being involved would only fuel a rage that he couldn’t relieve.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a frustrated laugh falling from his lips. “Rumlow did this to you? Why didn’t you tell me at the bar? Was he still there? I would’ve went in there and—”

“I know exactly what you would’ve done; why do you think I waited until now to tell you?” Though you were smiling, Bucky was still understandably apprehensive. Pursing your lips, you grabbed one of his loosely clenched fists and held it in your lap. “I meant it when I said ‘you should’ve seen the other guy’ — Brock’s face looks the same as mine and he got a boot to the balls. Plus, I think his ego was bruised enough without someone else going in there and knockin’ his lights out.”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, unable to suppress a small grin. He never underestimated your power; anyone would be a fool to do so. When you were angry, you showed it. When someone hit you, you hit them back harder, metaphorically and literally. It wasn’t even that you had a short temper, you just didn’t put up with people’s shit, and Bucky highly admired that. “Well, I’m jealous of anyone that was there to see it — I bet it was damn hot.”

You scoffed, though seconds later you were shrugging in agreement. “It definitely was, you would’ve loved it.”

While he returned the first-aid stuff to their rightful places in the bathroom, you explained to Bucky what had gotten Brock so riled up. He wasn’t surprised that Brock tried to convince you that he was the bag guy in all of this; he’d tried to do it with Peggy too when she first started dating Steve. In his misogynistic mind, he thought that women were naive enough to be persuaded of anything that he wanted them to believe, and that by getting you on his side would mean he’d ‘won’ over Bucky. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson that night to not underestimate a woman’s power — dumbass.

Down at the warehouse, they’d managed to get Peter out of there before the person delivering the weapon shipment could arrive. There were one or two of Rumlow’s guys there keeping watch, but without him, they ran away like scared children. You teased Bucky about being a ‘big bad biker’ as he explained the night to you, but he insisted it was Natasha that had them crapping their pants; she never usually made an effort to hide the set of knives on her hip, and she apparently had a death-stare that could have anyone shaking in their boots. With him being banned from Wanda’s bar and unsuccessful with his plan of using Peter, they doubted Brock Rumlow would show his face around the area for a while. He’d only be embarrassing himself if he did.

Not long after your cut had been tended to and the pain in your jaw had subsided, you found yourself once again fighting the temptation to stay the night at the clubhouse — the temptation being a whiny biker named Bucky Barnes.

“But you’ve had a rough day,” He bargained, following after you as you made your way to the front door of the clubhouse. “It’ll save you the ride back if you stay.”

Chortling lightly, you turned around to face him. “A rough day? Buck, I gave an asshole a well-deserved kick in the balls, I’ve had a great day.”

“But what about your cheek? It might start bleeding again and—”

“Bucky,” You cut him off, biting back a smile. “Why do you really want me to stay?”

There was a short pause, heat pooling in the biker’s cheeks at the question as he raised a brow, silently asking you if he was supposed to actually answer the question. When you only quirked your own brow, he sighed, his lips curling into a fond smile. “...because I don’t like it when you leave? ‘Cause I like you a whole lot and I really wanna kiss you again?”

Slowly, you trailed a slightly bruised hand up his chest, stopping at the nape of his neck to tangle your fingers in the hair there. “You should’ve just lead with the kiss, biker.”

Before you could notice the doting grin on his lips, Bucky had looped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest, soft lips locking with yours tenderly. Your other arm was quick to wrap around his neck as you found yourself wanting to be impossibly closer to him. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his lips, and you pulled away with a satisfied smirk.

“So you’ll stay?” Bucky spoke against your lips, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“If you keep kissing me like that.” You imitated his words from your last kiss, to which he shook his head and clasped his hand around yours, leading you out of the hallway and up to his room.

You hoped the rest of the club were asleep, because from the thump of your body being pushed against Bucky’s bedroom door after he’d dragged you inside and shut it, you were sure that they could assume who was causing the racket at almost midnight.

Bucky’s mouth was on yours in a matter of seconds, hands cupping your jaw, carefully avoiding pressing against the side that was bruised. Meanwhile, your fingers gently traced across the hem of his t-shirt, riding it up so that the pads of your fingers came into contact with his lower stomach, ghosting over the waistband of his jeans. He stepped back momentarily, shoving his leather jacket down his arms and letting it fall to the floor.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your jacket,” You breathed. “It’s like you’re naked already.”

“Who said anything about getting naked?” He teased, hands coming to trace over your own exposed stomach. “Someone’s eager.”

“You’re stupid,” You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. “Coming from the guy who just said he liked me, sap.”

“Real mature,” He snickered, riding your shirt up to your chest and tugging it off when you raised your arms to aid him. His lips moved to the crook of your neck, trailing light kissed along the soft skin there. “I meant it, though. I really like you, baby.”

A whimper escaped your lips as his attached to a certain spot on your neck, your hand fisting his shirt in response. You didn’t even have to say it back; it was obvious that you felt the same way about him in pretty much every way. The way your body was reacting to his, the breathy way that his name was falling from your swollen lips, and the fact you’d kissed him the week prior was a good indicator too.

“And you said you’d never get in my bed.” Bucky smirked after helping you pull off his own shirt.

“Technically, I’m not in your bed yet.”

“Yet,” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing his hand down your jaw, along the curve of your shoulder and down to the hem of your bra. “Can’t wait to have you there, moaning all pretty for me.”

Your face grew hot at his words, but his lips were on yours again too quickly for him to notice. When he eventually pulled back for air, you bit your lip in anticipation.

“Hm, let’s not wait any longer then.”

And he didn’t let you wait any longer, leaning down to kiss you with a passionate hunger as he dragged you by both of your hands to his bed. Maybe it was the way he didn’t rush, that he took time memorizing every inch of your skin with gentle lips and wandering hands. Maybe it was the sighs and moans of pleasure that he’d managed to draw from you so easily, or the way he whispered praises and sweet nothings into your ear as he positioned himself comfortably between your legs. But after the two of you had reached your highs and were left grinning like idiots and panting for breath, you realised how fucking hard you’d fallen for the damn biker who’d somehow gotten you in his bed.

* * *

Soft snores gradually drew you from your slumber, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks before you eventually squinted your eyes open. It couldn’t have been any later than 5am; daylight was peaking through the curtains of the bedroom, but the world outside was still quiet. Quiet for New York, anyway.

Bucky had his arms tucked under his pillow, face buried into the cotton, lips parted, brown strands of hair falling in front of his face. Back muscles relaxed, shoulders raising slightly as he breathed quietly. He looked pretty like that, innocent even. Innocent in comparison to what occurred in his bed the night before.

As you idly observed him in his peaceful state, you couldn’t help but think about what Peggy had said to you earlier the prior night. She was right, as always. Especially after the night you’d just had with him, there was no way that your feelings for Bucky would just leave along with you leaving after summer. Perhaps sleeping with him was the stupidest decision you’d ever made. Perhaps it would’ve just been easier to not stay the night and pretend like you’d never kissed him in the first place. But you didn’t want that. You wanted him, even if you could only have him for the summer.

A muffled moan jerked your attention away from your thoughts and back to the man laying next to you, who was shifting as he began to wake, the muscles in his back flexing as he did so. It was a sight you could get used to for sure.

Soon enough, his baby blues met yours, a lazy smile overcoming his lips. “Watching me sleep?”

“No.” You denied, though he could see straight through the lie.

He hummed, reaching a hand out to trace over your bruised cheek. You leaned into the touch. “Still hurt?”

“Not really. Had a good doctor fix it up last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, he slept with me afterwards which I thought was a little inappropriate...”

The biker scoffed, enclosing an arm around your bare waist to pull you closer. Sloppy kisses were planted down your jaw to your shoulder, ghosting over the dark bruises he’d marked you with only hours ago.

“I’ll miss you, you know. When you have to leave.” Bucky murmured, pulling away and laying back down against the pillow, his nose grazing yours.

You smiled sadly, pushing some of the hair away from his face. “Do you think this was stupid of us? To start something that’s just gonna have to end in a month?”

“Maybe, yeah,” He mirrored your expression, voice still a little raspy. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither,” You twirled a lock of his hair sigh your pointer finger. “What’re you gonna do without me, huh? You might have to find another girl to take rides with you at sunset.”

Bucky shook his head, squeezing your waist. “Nah, I think I’d rather ride solo. Won’t be the same without you just over my shoulder.”

“Even when I get road rage?”

“Especially when you get road rage.”

“Well, we should probably make the most of the time we have left,” You propped yourself up on one elbow, a smirk playing on your lips. “How about a ride while the sun rises?”

“Sounds perfect.” He loosened his hold on you, letting you roll away from him and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

“Mind if I take a shower first?”

“Mind if I take a shower with you?”

You thought for a moment. It’d be saving water, wouldn’t it? “Screw it, why not. C’mon, Buck.”

You scurried off to the bathroom, still naked as Bucky followed after you, suddenly not so tired anymore.

Perhaps the summer hadn’t went in the direction you’d been expecting, but you had no complaints about the turn that it’d taken. You’d never believed in fate or destiny, much like you’d never believed in love. However, you’d like to believe that you were meant to meet Bucky when you came back to Brooklyn at some point. You’d never met someone— someone so perfect for you, if you were being honest. He didn’t scold you for your sarcasm, or shame you for standing up for yourself. He responded to your teasing with his own, he knew how to make you laugh, how to make your cheeks hot and your knees weak. You were always on the exact same wavelength, always knowing how the other was feeling, being able to bring out the best in one another.

It seemed like a waste to spend the little time left at home thinking about summer ending, so you simply pushed it out of your mind. Enjoying the moment was something you’d learned to do over and over again, because that was all you could do in the life that you led.

The moments spent with Bucky Barnes were just going to be a little harder to let go of.

* * *

Taglist:

@domolovee @oplunket16 @barnestruck @igotkatiepowers

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes reader insert

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1- I saw Emma Kissing Santa Claus!

Hi all! If anybody is still there/ I’m caught up in this song. It’s given me the idea for like seven chapter- here is the first. MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎄🎁! The rest will be late, like those gifts that trickle in when the glow of the holidays is getting hazy. We need Christmas cheer to linger after this year, so I’m gonna publish as I write! Enjoy! And share!

They talked about it later, years after their lives had taken off into space in opposite directions, the moment they knew.

Well, the moment he knew.

"Wait, what?" Emma asked, looking up from the hollow she'd found between his arm and chest when the December air found the crevices in the windows and chilled their skin. She'd get goose flesh and he'd run his hands up and down her limbs to warm her, then pull the flannel up and over them, no matter how warm he was from doing all the work near their end. "We kissed? When we were TEENAGERS?"

"Well, I was technically a teenager the first time we slept together too."

"We didn't sleep."

Harry wiggled his eyebrows at her and smirked, "Oh, I know."

"Oh my god, I really don't remember this!" She turned all the Christmas parties she'd attended at his mum's house over in her head. Emma figured she'd been at the annual event every year since she was 15 or 16, the age he says he was when they kissed. She has almost three years on him. Maybe she was 14 at the first one. That one she recalls well, She's pretty she still had braces. Nobody kissed her. If her math is good, it's her last Christmas before moving. "No wonder you were so ballsy last year!" She slapped at his chest and he grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips.

"Nah, that was more to do with last year. I was just flush and nobody had turned me down in so long I didn't think anybody ever would again."

"I did!" She at least pretended she wasn't captivated.

"You did. At first!" He reminded her and bit her fingertips before sucking them into his mouth. "Made myself irresistible evidently." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes thinking back at his dogged flirting. He'd found multiple reasons to be near her and had found her close enough to the mistletoe and was charming enough that she accepted the kiss he negotiated out of her as inevitable. Negotiated, that was laughable, he laid one on her and it overwhelmed her reason. Emma thought she played it cool enough, though she remembers they held hands for the the 10 minutes after, at least.

She accepted the other things he was offering on the strength of that kiss, and the fact that since he'd slipped his tongue into her mouth so seamlessly, convincingly, all she could think about for the hours intervening was what else his mouth could do.

While she replayed the memory of that first kiss, the one that counted for her, another blurry memory flashed in her mind.

"Oh! Was it underneath the mistletoe, too?"

Harry rolled his eyes, and her beneath him in the same breath. "You were under the mistletoe the second time!"

"I was mistletoe adjacent, at best." She sighed, she meant to jest, but his long lean body pressed along the length of her clouded her mind and convinced her she wasn't tired anymore or too tipsy off champagne.

"The first time, was me under the mistletoe."

"I kissed you?"

"You did." He confirmed with another kiss.

"How'd I kiss you? Like full on?" She was a little mortified she'd kissed little Harry.

Gemma would have killed her. Would still! That was why she and Harry always just flirted at the party and met up at the inn when the wine had everybody off their head. Nobody knew, it was their Christmas surprise. The secret she looked forward to all year.

"Well, you weren't brave enough to slip me the tongue." He stuck his tongue into the corner of his mouth; that was too attractive by half.

"Hmph." Was all Emma could come up to answer with. "Did I say anything?" She smoothed her hands up his back.

His face got dreamy, and he seemed to be reliving something. "Yeah, you told me 'you're getting cute little Styles.' I always hated that nickname, but I felt a little taller that night."

Harry was descriptive, which was funny considering he could be so quiet at times, but he was quick and he knew a lot of words, more than her. He was working on his third language. He would basically narrate while they fucked and it drove her crazy when he'd describe how she looked and felt and what it was doing to him.

"What do you want to ask?" He pressed his nose to the place her collarbones met and she could fill him growing between her legs.

"How'd you know I want to ask something?" He was too observant.

He reached up and pulled the lip she didn't realize was between her teeth free. Ahh.

"Ask." He kissed the lip still imprinted with her teeth marks.

"Tell me about it. Describe it, like you do for me when you're inside me."

He blew out a breath, "Should be easy, I obsessed over it for ages after, before even."

"Before?"

"Yeah, I have had a crush on you since you were 12 and started coming round with Gem." He revealed.

"No, I don't believe it!"

"I loved that you already had your whole life planned out and you were sooo smart and then the next year you had boobs."

"That started out so well." She almost protested, she had boobs at 12!

"I was very impressed by the boobs, you wore this sweater—" she clapped a hand over his mouth.

"No more talking unless it's about that party."

He smiled at her and his eyes went soft at their corners, his dimples were suggestions of a deep feeling. "I think you had this idea, like this was your last Christmas here, in Holmes Chapel—"

She had had that idea. She'd intended to leave for a summer term in Sweden that spring and wasn't sure she'd be coming back. And she'd always loved that party, and Gemma's family. Even Gemma's goofy weird brother who was getting cuter and more confident. "Why do you say that?"

"Dunno," he tilted his head and his mouth flattened out and his eyes went somewhere else, he was looking at her but not the version in front of him. "I think you reminded me of my cousins' when they could first drink. Seemed like you were just throwing caution to the wind, letting it fly. Like you had nothing to lose, cuz this place was about to be a memory."

Emma could only find the energy to stare, she thought she nodded. He was spot on, but she wasn't even sure she could have articulated those feelings then. And she hadn't been that reckless ever before or after that day.

"I'd been watching you, and like I said, had a crush for years, um, and like, you were wearing that shiny top, like liquid silver and your long brown hair was all curled up and your cheeks were red with your merry making and I'd always loved your laugh. You're usually so calculated—"

"That's not a nice word."

"I don't mean it like a bad thing, like maybe a better word would be careful. Like all your moves were preparation for the grand future you were working towards. But when you laugh, it all falls away. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and you bend at the waist and just lose it. That night you did it a lot." He kissed her knuckles. "Did you notice I was kind of shadowing you that night?"

"Honestly, not really, I was kinda out of it, or maybe really in it instead of 5 years ahead." She always was at least a week ahead in her mind. In the actual moment, she was usually just ticking that day's checklist off to get to the next thing.

"Yeah. I could see it, you were really in your body, and it made me want you more." He laughed. "The only other time I ever see you like that is...ah..."

"Go on!" She jostled his shoulder.

He bit his lip like the imp he was and said, "When we fuck, it's like when you laugh, there's no tomorrow, or next semester, or internship you have lined up, just the next orgasm on the horizon."

She knew she was blushing but she ducked her chin and shrugged. She couldn't deny it. She could feel that when he moved inside her, when they moved together, it was like when she really lost her head and laughed at something. Better, more. Emma definitely did not tell him it was never like that with anybody else.

Not her college boyfriend, or the Danish guys she'd enjoyed over their version of freshers, and certainly not the completely nice guy she'd been dating for two months back in Amsterdam. Not one of them made her get out of her head the way Harry could. They'd be following every direction she gave them from tongue placement to tempo and she'd be observing the feelings as opposed to experiencing them. But even remembering her first kiss with Harry was a sensory experience. She gave him direction because that's who she is, but she's fairly certain even if she didn't, he'd be able to get her off just by watching her.

She wondered if it was the same as her. He was more cerebral than anybody gave him credit for. Maybe if he talked more about the kiss she'd find out.

He caught her chin, "Where'd you go?" He asked with dopey green eyes.

"I'm just trying to remember." Emma lied. "Tell me more, maybe it will come back to me."

"Oh, from my memory of the proof of your breath you may never remember." Emma could feel her cheeks heat. She had really tied one on, she was absolutely rough the next day. Utterly useless.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure I'd ever be here again."

"In Holmes Chapel? Really? You thought you'd never come back?"

"I always wanted to leave so bad, I genuinely thought I wouldn't miss it."

"But you did? You do?"

She nodded. She didn't want to explain that the first time she was way more homesick than she expected and this year, well, this year she wanted him for Christmas again.

He gave her this face then and a kiss that made her think he really was a mind reader, his crystal ball in the shape of her body.

"Not everyday." Take that Mr. Intuitive.

He gave her a smile that looked like a wink and started talking, "Like I said, I'd always just found you so impressive and you were always so pretty. But you came back from Amsterdam different."

"It was all the bike riding," she deflected and ran her hands down his arms to his lower back.

"Nah, it wasn't your body. That's always been nice. You just seemed like you were so happy and it was coming out of your pores."

"With the mulled wine?"

"Yeah! Definitely the mulled wine." He kissed her one then pressed his mouth to hers," Might have been your legs."

She snorted, "See it was the biking."

"You also had them out!" He defended. She had worn a daring skirt. "And maybe the biking." He laughed with her. "You also did that snort laugh I'd only heard through the walls during sleep overs and I was kinda tracking you."

"Stalker." He made a face. "Sorry probably not a joke to you." They didn't really talk about the peculiarities of his job. He was just Hometown Harry to her. Gemma's little brother. Her Christmas gift wrapped in deliciousness the last two years.

"I didn't really mean to, honestly. Was just like water to it's path."

"That's poetic." She teased.

"Hey, I'm a songwriter."

"I'd like to see evidence of that." Emma raised an eyebrow.

"You will." She wanted to ask but he just kept going. "Wanna know the funny thing? I never really had to look hard to find you." He went on. "You always seemed to be in the corners of my eye, like a dream I was trying to remember.

"I kind of remember that." She rolled her eyes and summoned some courage, "You looked different, and I tried to ignore it, but the more wine I had, the more I found myself comparing you to the boy I remembered from two years before."

"Hadn't been that long. I was with Gem when she told you goodbye."

She cringed. "I don't think I really looked at you that day."

"Oof, good thing I have crowds of people to stroke the old ego." At least the laugh seemed genuine though his eyes were a little dull.

"I was really remembering you in your red jumper from two parties before."

"Tell me about that party- we got off track talking about the last one." Last year she remembered In technicolor.

"Where were you the year after?"

"Studying, of course."

"Yeah makes sense." He pinched his lip, then bit hers.

"I remember thinking your jumper suited you so well and—"

"Matched your eyes."

"Yeah." She could feel the wonder of his eyes.

"But by midnight I saw that guy Spencer with his arm around your waist. Went to get a drink and was sulking with my own wine when you passed me. You had this look."

"Drunk?"

"Mischievous." He raised his eyebrows and bit his lip, "And then you pointed to the mistletoe."

"And said, 'caught you.'"

"You do remember!" He accused with a still annoyingly attractive chicken neck.

"I didn't, but I'm having a sense memory now." She widened her hips so he fit in like a piece of ikea hardware.

"Care to relive it?" He was trying to sound nonchalant, but she could see the hopeful blush.

She answered him by fitting her lips between his perfect ones and giving a lighter pressure than she had for two Christmases, waiting for his direction of how her bold move had turned out. He moaned and she sucked just a bit like she suddenly recalled. She really thought that was a wine fueled daydream, she swears. And then her mouth opened on a gasp and she slid her tongue against his and licked into his mouth before sliding her nose to the other side of his. The kiss depended until it was all over them and they would have wound up naked if they hadn't been already.

"This is different."

"We can re-enact it a little bit more faithfully later. It can be your Christmas present." Emma whispered between kisses.

"Nah." He was actually blushing, all the way down. "You're my gift."

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #chapter 1 #i saw Emma kissing Santa Claus #christmas fic #that nobody asked for

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lovely-ateez · 4 years

Text

Teach Me~

ꕥPosted: 9/1/20

ꕥGenre: Smut, Fluff

ꕥPairing: Yeosang x Fem!Reader

ꕥWord Count: ~1.7k

ꕥWarnings: Fingering, Praising (f receiving), Protected sex, Oral (f receiving)

ꕥA/N: The next post I’m making is Pt. 2 for Ice Cream! Hope you enjoy this one as well as the next :))

“Damn skater boys and their skills. Why can’t I skateboard?” I whined, lazily flopping myself on the library table.

The university I attended allowed bikes and skateboards on campus, so it was common to see people riding either on their way to class. Skateboards were far more convenient, though, and if I knew how to skateboard I’d be riding along with them.

My friend Varsha rolled her eyes at me, “Ask one of them to teach you if you’re so eager, then.” She took a sip of her mocha frappuccino.

“Noooo they look so intimidating. I’d make a fool of myself anyways.”

“Then stop complaining, you big baby. Listen I’ve got class in 10 minutes so I’ll see you later, yeah?”

She walked away as I waved goodbye at her and I felt myself still pouting.

A deep voice startled me, “I don’t think I’m that intimidating, personally.”

Jumping, I faced the owner of the voice. A Greek god appeared before my eyes, his blond locks flowing slightly past his neck. If he didn’t just confirm that he was a skater, his clothes sure would have. His pink beanie looked like it was falling off his head, and his loose shirt and ripped jeans hid his frame, but I just knew he had abs.

The man saw me checking him out and raised a brow. “You’re cute. Meet me in parking lot A at five today. I’ll teach you how to skate.”

He walked away before I had the chance to refuse or even get his name. Well shit. What have I gotten myself into?

My final class of the day let out at noon, giving me plenty of time to mull over what I was going to do about the man’s proposal. On one hand, I have no clue who he is or why he would want to help me. He’s a stranger. I literally didn’t even know his name. Yet, on the other hand, he was a terribly handsome man who was willing to teach me how to skate, and I was dying to learn.

I drove back to the on-campus apartments, waiting for Varsha to arrive. I needed a second opinion and as my roommate and a good friend, she was always there to help me.

While I was waiting I decided to change into clothes that would be easy to skate in. You know, just in case. I realized I didn’t have too many exercise clothes to choose from, so I just slipped on a pair of jean shorts and a plain white tank top. It was hot outside so threw my hair in a ponytail.

As I was tying my hair up, I heard Varsha come barging in. “What’s up, fuckers?”

Varsha waltzed into our shared room and began to remove a few books from her backpack.

“Okay first of all, rude. Second, Sinoo and Trixie aren’t here, so it’s singular; fucker.”

Sinoo and Trixie were our dormmates and they shared a separate a room together. We were all about the same age, all sophomores, and shared similar interests so we bonded pretty quickly.

Sinoo was a transfer student from Korea and was just about the kindest soul you’d ever meet. Her English was so good that we swore it was her native language, which she vehemently denied. Sinoo was a music major and had the voice of a literal angel. She would sing almost 24/7 but no one minded because of her voice. Her positive energy was contagious, and she always made us smile.

Trixie was the embodiment of a stereotypical girly-girl. She had long, blonde hair and always wore fashionable clothes. It was strange to have a weekend where she wasn’t begging us to go shopping with her. Like Sinoo, she had a kind heart. She could come across as brash sometimes, but was an incredibly loyal person. Trixie changed her major about four different times, finally settling on majoring in fashion design, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she changed it again.

And Varsha was a true chaotic neutral if I’ve ever met one. Her antics could be slightly unpredictable, but she always knew how to make someone smile. A day wouldn’t go by without her mentioning her adorable white poodle at home and how much she missed him. She was a comfort to have around and the apartment always felt empty without her. Varsha was undecided on her major but knowing her, she’d be able to do anything well.

“So I need advice.”

Varsha gave me a curious look. “About what?”

I explained my situation to her and she laughed. “Go with him, duh.”

“What if he like kidnaps me or something?”

“Okay first of all, I know where you’re at and what time you’ll be there. If you’re not back in two hours I’ll call campus security, okay?”

I nodded, embarrassingly not needing anymore convincing.

I arrived three minutes early. The parking lot was surprisingly empty, but since it was a Friday, I wasn’t too surprised. Most students went home for the weekend anyway.

Not knowing what to to, I pulled out my phone to mindlessly scroll through social media. I glanced up when I heard footsteps approaching.

“Didn’t think you’d come, to be honest. Glad you did.” The man grinned, “You ready for your first lesson?”

“I suppose so.” I paused, “What’s your name?”

The question must’ve caught him off guard, given the confused expression on his face.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed, “I’m Yeosang.”

I reached out to shake his hand, introducing myself as well. Yeosang motioned to his skateboard, setting it down.

“Alright. What’s the first rule of skateboarding?”

“Uhh...don’t break your skull?”

Yeosang laughed, nodding. “Well, I suppose that’s a good objective, but no. Balance is key. How good is your balance?”

“Mediocre at best.”

Yeosang tried his best to suppress a smile but failed terribly. I wasn’t sure why he tried to hide it. Every bit of him was so alluring.

“Alright then. I’ll hold you so you don’t fall. Now step up on the board just like this.” He demonstrated the action as he spoke, maintaining perfect balance.

I whined as I watched him. “There’s no way in hell I can do that, Yeosang.”

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.”

He led me to the board and I hopped on, doing my best to stabilize myself. I didn’t notice how his hands were gripping my hips or how close his face was to mine...at first. But when I did, my face instantly flushed.

With a raised brow, the man leaned even closer, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were blushing. I wonder what for? Could it be me?” The growl in his voice sent a shock straight to my core.

I forced myself to stable my breathing, “No. Get over yourself.”

“Feisty. I like it.”

We practiced for about an hour and a half but all I was able to accomplish was standing upright on the board.

“We’ve been practicing for quite awhile. Would you want to get a drink? It’s really hot.” Yeosang looked at me with genuine concern.

“Honestly, that would be fantastic.”

“My apartment isn’t too far from here. I can take you there and I can get you whatever.”

Normally, I wouldn’t have agreed in such a situation, but somehow I felt pulled to him. Like I couldn’t say no. And so, I agreed.

Yeosang picked up his skateboard and began to walk, leading me in an unfamiliar direction.

“So which apartment do you live in, Yeosang?”

“I live in Stockdale. Kinda sucks that it’s so far away from campus but it’s close to the lake so at least it has a pretty view.”

I nodded, “Ah I live in Callahan.”

“Oh yeah I lived in that apartment last year.”

I followed Yeosang up to the second floor of Stockdale and watched as he unlocked the door. All apartments had the same basic layout so the room essentially looked the same as mine, except for the position of the furniture and electronics scattered about the floor.

I sat down on the couch in his living room as Yeosang disappeared into his kitchen. I looked at the ugly, blue patched cushions that were placed on his couch. If they were unique to his apartment I would have teased him about it, but unfortunately the entire university decided that the pattern was ideal for all couches across campus.

A deep voice grabbed my attention. “Red punch okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine. Honestly anything is okay at this point.” I laughed. He passed me a cup filled with the red liquid and I took a sip.

“Thanks, by the way. For both teaching me and the drink.”

Yeosang smiled. “Not a problem. If you wanna get good though, you’ve gotta practice more. We should meet again.”

I smiled. “I’d like that...Oh shit-“ I quickly grabbed my phone from my pocket, remembering to text Varsha.

Noticing Yeosang’s confused look, I clarified. “I told my roommate if I didn’t call within two hours or so to call security.”

I felt embarrassed as I said it aloud but Yeosang let out a hearty laugh. “Did you think I was going to rob you or something?”

“Hey! I didn’t know!” I pouted, still slightly embarrassed.

“I mean fair enough. You didn’t even know my name...I guess someone was desperate to learn how to skate.”

“Shut up.” As I was trying to place my phone back into my pocket I spilled some punch on my shirt.

“Aww. I don’t wanna clean that up.” I whined.

Yeosang chuckled. “Lick it off, then.”

I felt a surge of confidence. “Why don’t you?”

The joking, carefree air around us had somehow shifted. The atmosphere felt tense. I was teasing at first but, I began to realize that I wanted him to do it.

He ran his tongue over his lips and my head clouded with thoughts of how his lips would feel running along the inside of my thighs, teasing me until I pleaded him to reach just slightly above.

The darkness in his gaze made me want to beg him to kiss me, to touch me, to give me anything. I tried to remember to keep my composure but it wasn’t working too well.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long before he pulled me close, locking his lips with mine. I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Biting my bottom lip, Yeosang slowly pulled back. “I think you need to changed out of this t-shirt, what do you say?”

I knew his words meant more than than what they appeared on the surface, especially given the look in his eyes.

I leaned in close to Yeosang’s ear, “I think I need you to help me.”

My words seemed to be the breaking point for him. His lips clashed back onto mine and before I knew it, he was setting me down on his bed.

Yeosang pinned my hands above my head and gently began kissing my neck. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling.

One of Yeosang’s hands grazed my clit through my shorts and I gasped. Yeosang smirked at me and slid down my shorts. When they were fully off he dipped a few of his fingers into my panties to tease me. I wiggled around, begging him to give me more.

“What a needy girl you are.” The man’s eyes were glazed over, lust controlling his every move.

I whimpered, “Please, Yeosang.”

“Only because you said please.”

He released my hands and slid his own down to my waist. Spreading my legs further apart, he bit the hem of my panties and slowly pulled them off of me with his teeth.

“Fuck, you look hot.” He told me as he threw my soaking panties across the room.

If I had the ability to form sentences, I would have told him the same, but I was so overwhelmed with the current situation that I simply couldn’t.

Yeosang lifted my legs over his shoulders and held my hips down in place. I felt his tongue gloss over my clit, making my back arch off the bed. He proceeded to kiss the inside of my thighs, slowly making his way up to where I wanted him. After what felt like forever, he began to slowly eat me out. I didn’t expect him to be as good as he was and all I could do was moan. I couldn’t be more thankful that none of his roommates where there.

“Shit. Yeosang I...I’m close. Please.”

I knew he heard me, but he didn’t acknowledge me outright. His steady pace continued, finally permitting my release. He reached up to kiss me, making me taste myself.

“Do you want to go further?”

His eyes were kind and showed concern, not trying to influence me in one way or the other.

“Yes.” I breathed out.

He once again tried to hide his smile, as if he was trying not to appear too eager. The man grabbed a condom out of his bedstand and quickly discarded the rest of his clothes. I, doing the same.

“Ready, darling?” Yeosang asked as he was slipping on the condom.

“Definitely,” I breathed out.

At a slow pace he entered me, stretching my walls and making me cry out at the pleasure.

“Such a good girl. Taking me so well. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I felt tears prick at my eyes during his praises and I realized I didn’t want him to stop.

“Please don’t stop that.”

“Awe baby girl likes being praised? Well let me tell you, you’re doing a wonderful—fuck.” A deep growl left his throat as I unconsciously began to clench around him.

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. What a good girl you are for me.”

His right hand wandered up to play with my nipples, gently fondling them. The euphoric feeling spurred on my rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Yeosang I’m gonna...c-cum again. Please.”

His thrusts gradually sped up as my hands grasped his biceps, nails digging into his skin.

Leaning towards my ear, he whispered, “Cum for me, darling.”

After a few more thrusts, I came hard, a mantra of his name falling from my lips.

“Just hold on a little longer, darling. I’m almost there.” The overstimulation wasn’t as bad as I thought it might’ve been, but it was entirely possible that Yeosang’s heavenly, fucked out expression compensated for it. Panting heavily, Yeosang soon reached his high and stilled. He gently pulled out and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“You’re really good at that, you know? Are you this sweet with all the girls?” I joked.

He gave me a slightly confused expression before his face returned to a more serious one.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. Like probably over a year at this point.” He scratched the back of his head, eyes darting anywhere but me. “Actually, I didn’t even mean for this to happen, believe it or not...You know I saw you on campus a few times and thought you were really cute. I’m glad I got the chance to approach you.” He watched me with calming eyes as I blushed.

“So...what now?” I asked, sheepishly.

His shy smile—which I think had become my favorite of his smiles—made an appearance.

“It’s probably silly, given what we just did, but I’d like to take you on a date. Or at least meet up to study or something...point is I’d like to see you again.” He held eye contact with me.

“I’d enjoy that. Plus, I could use a pro to teach me how to ride a skateboard.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, a dazzling smile painting his face, “Oh whatever. I’m not that good.”

The butterflies I felt in my stomach were so unique to him. I didn’t want to admit how excited I was to see him again, but I was. And in that moment, all I could think about was how glad I was that he offered to teach me.

#ateez #ateez au #ateez smut #ateez fluff #kpop #ateez imagines #atzinc #imagines #yeosang #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang au

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obx-saltlife · 4 years

Text

S A V A G E

Absolutely nobody asked for this. I listened to Nicki Minaj’s ‘Get on your Knees’ (feat. Ariana Grande) the other night and thought it could be a good start for a mild sub!Rafe fic. This kinda got away from me a little bit and it was too late to reign it in.

Warnings: Smut, obviously. We’re talking like real filthy language, oral sex (female receiving), mild dom/sub undertones.

Word count: 4.8K+

Rafe x Reader smut.

If you like what you read, request something maybe? Come talk to me, idk. Also, full disclosure, the GIF is not mine. Credit to its original owner.

“Take off your clothes,” he murmured after kissing you chastely. “And crawl to my bed.”

You’d been introduced to Rafe Cameron three months ago at an Outer Banks party. You knew who he was; you ran in the same circles but never had you been introduced outright. You both hailed from Figure 8, you’d seen him around the Island Club a few times too. He was ever the charismatic, beacon of attention that exuded confidence wherever he went. It was honestly what attracted you to him in the first place, like a moth to a flame.

But this didn’t feel like that. “What?” you asked.

Rafe had called you the day after that party to ask you out. He’d been very sweet and you’d even dare to say that he had been a little nervous. Your nerves were off the wall. You agreed to meet him the next day at the Island Club for lunch. You walked around the golf course and just talked about everything. He told you about Ward, about the insane pressure he felt from his dad and the massive expectations he had for Rafe. You talked about his sisters; he even shared a bit about his mom at one point.

“Crawl to my bed,” he repeated slower this time, but his voice was deeper somehow.

“No.” You recoiled in reply, angry that he could think to order you around that way. Like you were beneath him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you high?”

He barely moved except for his hand coming to wrap around your arm just above the joint of your elbow. He brought you closer to him and you put your hands up, bracing yourself against the planes of his chest.

“No, I’m not fucking high. I just want you—“

“Oh, no, I heard you the first time, Rafe. But we don’t do that shit unless we negotiate it first and you know that.”

His face scrunched. “There’s nothing to negotiate, I want to watch you on your knees and I want to fuck you on my bed.”

“And I’m saying no!” You crossed your arms in defiance.

He yanked you forward this time, his grip barely bruising but still pretty strong. You could sense he had every intention to kiss you but before he could, you reached your palm up to his lips and pressed your hand against his mouth. He kissed the inside of your hand instead, like that made anything about this better.

Your first kiss with Rafe had actually been kind of sweet, like a lot of things between both of you. You’d been overlooking the grounds at the club and it happened just as the sun was setting. You’d both been enjoying each other’s company. It was hot, you were both covered in a slight sheen of sweat. Rafe’s hair was falling in his face due to his lack of hair product. It was slow and easy and kind of perfectly timed, if you were being honest. Almost like Rafe could read your mind, you were just that in sync with one another.

He smiled back at you and asked you “What?”

You stared into his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Why do you want me to crawl, Rafe?”

He shrugged and mouthed at your fingers. You let your hand drop and rest on his chest. He stared down between you, his hair on the loose again.

“Rafe,” you whispered. “Do you do this with all your girlfriends”

You weren’t naïve; you knew there had been others before you. You and Rafe were nearly 20.

He shook his head, not really looking you in the eye. “Not all of them.”

“So, most of them?” You asked him, cocking your eyebrows and making him look you in the face.

He lifted a shoulder in somewhat of a half-assed confirmation. It didn’t surprise you, to be honest. Rafe Cameron was someone who was used to getting what he wanted. Especially in the bedroom.

You shook your head at yourself and at him. It had already been a long night. You were out at a party with him, more his crowd than yours really. Not that you’d stayed by his side for the whole thing, Rafe’s country club groupies had figuratively elbowed you clean out of the way and you didn’t want to seem like the clingy, possessive girlfriend. You let him have his fun while you mingled with those you did know, dancing and drinking with them as you pleased.

Topper had approached you at some point, noticing the lack of boyfriend by your side. You’d gotten a drink with him, even shared half of a joint until Rafe interrupted both of you. The smile he used was more reminiscent of an angry dog, baring his teeth. It was tense and weird and even though jealousy was often a good look for Rafe, it was certainly not the case tonight. Especially not on the way back to his place, which is where you currently were.

“You know what? I’m gonna go. We’ll talk tomorrow.” You backed away slowly. “Or whatever.”

He really had no right to be jealous. You had only talked to the handful of people that you knew and he had left you alone for most of the stupid party anyway. He’d had his proverbial country-club dick sucked while ignoring you. Maybe even his literal dick sucked too, who even knew anymore. You didn’t keep track of him.

“Wait a fucking minute! I didn’t do anything wrong!” Rafe reached for you again, and you dodged his hand. “I just asked for what I wanted!”

You pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. “You want to control me, Cameron.”

He swat at your hand and you tugged it away, or at least tried to. Before you could slap him, like you actually wanted to, he got closer. Too close to get much leverage and even though it didn’t really seem like it, Rafe was much stronger than he seemed.

You stomped on his foot with your wedged platform and fisted his Polo shirt tight around his neck with your free hand. You think he barely noticed because in turn, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pinned you to the wall of his bedroom.

“Don’t go,” he added softly.

“It’s not like I can now, can I? I’m trapped here.” You snarled back at him with a small roll of your eyes.

He studied your face, blatantly stopping at your lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

Rafe leaned in to kiss you again, but you reached up to the back of his head and fisted his hair, wrenching his head back. He gasped in return and arched his body against yours. It was like caging in his animalistic urges, all predatory reflexes and hard muscles as he clutched at you. You suddenly felt like you could do anything to him.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He was so vulnerable; you could see it in his eyes. They weren’t the usual stormy blue you had been accustomed to. They were shining pools of blue like the Caribbean in the winter. His tanned skin shone in the moonlight that seeped in from the window. You could smell his expensive soap as you mouthed at the skin at the base of his throat. You could bite him, leave a mark for everyone to see and you kind of wanted to, you liked the idea of that. You could bite him until he bled. Mark him like he wished you could do to you.

You dug your teeth a little harder around his neck and he moaned. You felt him rock his growing erection against your stomach. His grip loosening on your wrist.

“You bring me back to your room and order me to my knees, “ you spoke against his throat. “As if you own me, Rafe Cameron.”

His hands moved south, towards your hips. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled his hair again and he practically whimpered in need. “How sorry are you?”

“Very! I’m so sorry!”

“You are sorry,” you agreed. “A sorry, little boy who plays at being the tough guy, huh?”

Really, you had come to know Rafe as something else entirely. He was insightful, funny, mature and intelligent when he wasn’t losing his temper like a child or coked out of his mind. You talked your entire first date, which ended after a long ride on the back of his bike. He’d been so enthusiastic about you, beamed at you with his cheeks pink from the sun and you had smiled right back. Dishing it all out as good as you were getting it. You felt yourself falling for him right then and there.

He’d taken you home, hugged you and planned to leave. He had made you feel heard, seen and wanted for the first time in a long time. He’d felt right in your arms and he smelled so good. And god, his hair; you could go on about his hair forever if anyone let you.

Taking advantage of his silence, you continued. “Such a shame, I don’t want that side of you. If you’re feeling insecure, tell me. If you want me on my knees tell me about it. Don’t play stupid games with me.” You released his tresses and smoothed it back. “I want to be with you, but not like that. You know that.”

His eyes were filled with all kinds of emotions, different tones of blue fighting to make their way to the surface; as if the internal floodgates had been opened. He looked like he was about to yell or cry or maybe a little of both. You didn’t fell much different than that.

He spoke with a rough tone of voice. “You seem like you’re done with me.” His teeth almost clenching as he said it.

“I can be mad at you and still want you.”

“You’re not leaving,” he half-questioned.

You realized then, what he had been doing. The trademark Cameron push-away. Apparently, Sarah was notorious for it too. He was sabotaging himself and the relationship, and you couldn’t exactly figure out why.

You shook your head and looked at him. “Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then I won’t.”

He hesitated delicately, as he moved in to kiss you. You didn’t stop him this time; you didn’t want to. You held his face and tasted the remnants of some hard liquor on his tongue. He kissed you with more desperation than you expected. It wasn’t like the giggle make-outs you were mostly used to. Where his hands went to your ass and he squeezed it before making a honking sound and while his lips still pressed to yours. There was a new sense of urgency to his kissing now. It meant something else entirely.

Rafe pushed a thigh between yours and rubbed himself against you. He was solid and strong and hot. His lips were soft and felt ready to pout at a moment’s notice but still, he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough.

He ran his hands down your sides and almost pulled you away from the wall to touch all of you. He rolled his lips expertly and groaned against your mouth. You could feel how hard he was.

“I want to fuck you – make you cum over and over – all the fucking time,” he whispered, his lips barely leaving any space between yours as he did. “I watch the way you move. How you act when you think nobody’s watching. I like your ass.” His hands squeezed your hips as he swallowed. “And I just…” he continued, “I want you to myself, all the time, always.”

You looked at his closed lids. “And you want me to crawl to your bed.”

“I think about getting you on your knees and rubbing my dick all over your pretty face.” His hands moved upwards to cup the side of your chest as he opened his eyes and looked at you. “I wanna slide it in your mouth until you’re choking on it.” His hands kept going until they found themselves under your jaw. “I want to fuck your mouth until you cry.” He tilted your head back a little and kissed your chin delicately. “And then I want to push you to the floor and slide right between your tits. I want to cum all over you.”

You grinned a little, liking the fact that he was actually telling you want he wanted. “We can do that.”

“I want to bend you over my armchair,” he nodded in the direction of what you vaguely recalled was a leather armchair in the corner of his bedroom. “I want to spank you until your skin’s red all over and your pussy’s dripping wet for me.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I want to take you like that. Shove you into the bed so you can’t move, finger you, fuck you harder than I’ve fucked anyone ever.”

“All in one go?” you teased and pet the muscles in his lower back with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Whenever you’d let me.” Rafe shrugged.

You could tell he was slowly slipping into a better frame of mind. No longer was he barking out orders. He was talking about permission and mutual satisfaction, which was definitely turning you on now. You decided to ask for something you’d like.

“Can I tie you up sometime?” You smirked.

He nodded and rolled his hips. “Fuck yeah, ride me, scratch me, bite me, I don’t care.”

“And you want to be my good boy, don’t you Rafe?” You reached up again and tousled his hair.

“Only if you’ll be my good girl.”

“Uh-uh, that’s not how this conversation is going, Cameron.” You warned him.

He definitely pouted right then. “What do you want?”

“I want you to let go. I want you to trust me.” You leaned into his warm hands at your throat to offer a kiss.

His eyes clouded with unshed tears and he kissed you. He pushed his fingers into your hair and held you as he sucked tightly at your bottom lip, your tongue. You couldn’t stop the train of noises bubbling out of you. You held onto him and gave it back just as good. You had to be vulnerable too if you expected him to be. After all, soft Rafe was your favorite Rafe ever.

He broke the kiss with a moan and pressed his wet lips to your cheek. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too.”

“Let me fuck you. I’ll be good for you.”

You smiled and closed your eyes with a sigh. He was always good for you. He knew how to use his body, there was no doubt about that. His mouth, his hands; you’d come more times with him than on your own – which was a first. The chemistry between you was undeniably there.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as you had a thought. “Take off your clothes and lie in the middle of the bed for me, Rafe.”

He straightened to his full height and cradled your face. “Are you going to fuck me?”

“If you do what I ask.” You replied, cocking your eyebrow.

In a silent reply, he stepped away and pulled off his Polo shirt. He kept his eyes on you as he moved backwards towards his full-sized, unmade bed. It was a nice start. The moonlight bounced off his naked torso and glinted lightly off of his hair. It highlighted the angles of his jaw, his pointy but muscled shoulders. The planes down his chest were hidden in a shadow but you followed them down to the front of his khaki shorts.

The sight made your mouth water but you had to maintain control. You slowly advanced, step-by-step and Rafe backed away at the same pace. Further into his bedroom, he unbuttoned his shorts. With another few steps backwards, he unzipped them.

You knew he wanted you to undo the ties on your crop top but he kept silent. Somehow, that made you proud and want to reward him, even if it was just a little.

“Touch yourself for me,” you commanded, your chin raised in an authoritative manner.

He adjusted his cock in his boxer briefs and cupped it. He drew his fingertips up the thick vein on the underside of it, the tip of it wet the fabric and pulled at the waistband.

As soon as he was at the foot of his bed, he sad and got his Sperry boat shoes untied and off. He yanked his socks off and threw them in the generation of the closet without a care in the world. He sat there with the summer moonlight coming in through the window and waited.

You couldn’t make out much of his face but you felt him studying you, raking his eyes over your still clothed body.

You leaned casually back against the door. “The rest of it.”

He wiggled out of his shorts and his briefs, tossing them in the direction of his socks. He held onto the edge of the bed as his toes curled into the carpet.

“Turn on the light.” You said, and nodded to the lamp at his bedside.

He did as you asked and scoot onto the center of the bed, where he stretched out on his back. His golden skin was perfection in the soft glow. A blushed peppered his skin as you looked on.

His cock hardened further too. A glossy line of sweet, sticky precum on the trailed underside of his length. You couldn’t wait to tease more out.

You toed off your sandals and slipped out of your denim shorts. From the corner of your eye, your saw Rafe wrap his hand around the base of his hardened erection. You straightened and walked to bed, your crop top and lace panties the only things on display.

You tsked with your fingers in Rafe’s direction. “Get your hands off. That’s only mine to touch.”

He let go and writhed on the bed. His legs spread and his hips pushed into the air. “Fucking touch me then.”

“I will, when I’m damn well ready, Cameron.” You move forward to put a knee on the matress. “Hands about your head now.”

He obeyed and moved to grab the pillow under his head. You crawled close and bend to kiss a gentle line up his chest towards his neck. He sighed in pleasure and turned his head for you. His skin was clean, the mix of soap and cologne that you loved always present. You took in his beautiful profile and traced his lips with a finger.

“Why did you want me to crawl, Rafe?” you whispered in his ear.

He groaned your name and flexed against the bed. You dug your nails into his chest and scratched down his torso hard. His eyes went wide as he let out a delicious “aaah!”

You reached the skin of his waistline and gentled your touch. “Tell me why.”

“I don’t know,” he breathed and shook his head.

You hummed and took hold of his cock. He moaned and shoved his heels into the plush mattress. His cock was hot in your hand and so hard, almost painfully so. He was probably ready to blow any second.

You stroked him once and settled on just holding the wet head in your smaller fist. You watched him struggle and bite his lip. You ran your finger slowly through the underside of the head.

“Tell me.”

“I…Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

You shuffled down the soft bed and got between his legs. You pushed the further open and stroked the length of his thighs slowly. His thighs were smooth and silky, untouched by the sun mostly, unlike the rest of him.

Rafe looked down his body. “What’re you doing?”

Without replying, you leaned forward, bracing yourself and licked at the trail of his precum that had previously pooled there. His head flopped back with a groan. He was salty and thick on your tongue.

“Tell me,” you repeated.

“Fucking Topper,” he spat.

You made an interested noise and placed open-mouthed kisses down his shaft.

“He was – he was flirting with you.”

Ah, so that was what this was about. Topper keeping you company at the party.

“And?”

“He’s…he’s a good guy.”

“Uh-huh”

“I don’t want…”

You teased his balls with your tongue before pressing it against them tightly. He pushed down to your face and raised his ass a little off the bed. You pulled away and then stared straight up at him.

“Fuck, come on!” He pulled at the corners of the pillow. “Give me…” He groaned and rubbed the sweat from his upper lip with his bicep.

You almost had him. You hovered over the line of your spit and his precum on his cock and gently blew air on it. His reaction was immediate. He thrust upwards at your face and growled.

You backed off again and shot him an expectant look. Your eyebrows raised again, so Rafe definitely knew.

“I don’t want you to –“

You kissed the skin over his hipbones and that joint of muscle. You slid your palms over his sides, your nails raking over his skin. You came close to the erection laying on his stomach but never touched it.

“Fuck me, please.”

You hummed and kept peppering kisses over his tanned sking.

“If you don’t fucking fuck me…”

You sat up at his tone and placed your hands on your thighs. It was a punishment for him, yes but also it kept you from losing your focus. He sounded so needy, you were ready to give up this entire charade and just give into him. You were definitely aware of how your underwear clung to the wetness between your thighs.

“Fuck!” He bellowed. “What do you want?”

“Tell me the truth, Rafe.”

“I want you to want me like I…” His face scrunched up and he bit his lip. “I want you to only see me.”

“And what about me?” You toyed with the flimsy tie on your top. “You ignored me for most of the party.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t mean to. You intentions don’t mean shit to me, Cameron.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He almost lifted himself on an elbow but thought better than to do it. Which was good, it meant he was learning. “Let me make it up to you, baby. Please?”

“Oh, of course you are.” You got on your knees and pulled your underwear down. “I’m gonna fuck your face until I come.”

Rafe twisted on the bed with a loud moan. His cock visibly throbbed and your thighs clenched at the sight. You wanted nothing more than to slide down his dick and use him like he was the best, most realistic sex toy ever made.

But no, Rafe hadn’t earned that. Had he?

You kicked off your underwear and crawled over him. You sat on his scratched pink chest with your knees spread wide and rubbed yourself on him. He whimpered and stared at you with darkening, sweet eyes.

“I won’t let you go again,” he offered as his hands mangled the pillow under his head. “I won’t get distracted.”

You leaned forward just a touch to grind your clit against him. You let out a soft sigh and rolled your hips. You were conflicted between coming exactly like this and leaving him wanting and taking you sweet time with Rafe.

He glanced between your legs and licked his lips. “I can make it up to you. I won’t hurt you. Ever again. I promise.”

“What else?”

He floundered for a second, utterly lost in pleasure. “I was stupid. I let people –“

“Other girls,” you corrected.

“—I let other girls sidetrack me. From you. You’re the most important thing to me, I swear.”

“Keep going.”

He made a frustrated noise. “I don’t know what you want, babe.”

“Do you care about me? Do you want me in your life?”

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea. I learned to fucking Paddleboard to see you at the Island Club every day.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

He smiled so beautifully, your absolute favorite smile. His unashamed 100% real, Rafe smile. “God! I’m so into you!”

Your heart lurched in your chest, and you shuffled down just so you could kiss him. He made a hungry, desperate sound when your lips met. He leaned up to kiss you harder. He got your mouth open and tasted you, licked and sucked at your tongue. You almost forgot yourself for a minute. His kisses were ravenous and eager, ranging between sweet and downright bratty.

You finally pulled away to catch your breath. His panting breaths fanned over your lips. You held his face and he leaned into your touch.

“I’m really into you too, you know.” You murmured.

“Good, now come sit on my face.”

You raised your eyebrow at that.

“Please?” he added cheekily, flashing you another knee-weakening smile.

“Good boy.” You kissed his nose and told him to scoot down.

With a bit of adjustment, you found yourself hovering over Rafe’s blushing face. You allowed him to hold your ass to support you at first. It also helped in keeping his hands from wandering and going to his cock.

His voice was a dark rumble: “Oh shit, yeah. Let me taste you.”

You put your hands on the wall in front of you and slowly lowered yourself. He met you halfway, his tongue already out of his mouth. His nose pressed into your mound and he moaned. His tongue was warm and slick, you cursed under you breath.

He didn’t seem to mind the pressure at all. He pushed his tongue in deeper, licking languid stripes up your slit. Each pass over your sensitive clit had you jolting at the feeling. His lips dragged against your slick folds.

It started out slow and easy. You didn’t want to rush it. His mouth felt too good, his tongue so strong and his lips plush. Plus, his stubble scratching at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs felt incredible. He kissed your clit, and your legs involuntarily quaked against his ears.

He kept going, focusing on his clit. You found your hips rocking against his tongue. He encouraged you to move with his hands, pushing at your hips and his jaw moving beneath you.

You rested the side of your head against your upper arm and really rode his face. After all, it was exactly what you wanted. You moaned as his nose repeatedly bumped against you. He moaned in reply. Each hard sway of your hips, every lick to your clit was escalating a deep, straining tension that needed to be released.

You knew that release was coming. It was coming faster than you would’ve liked.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you groaned. “So good.”

In response, he spread his hands over your ass and pressed you harder against his mouth. The growing pleasure suddenly sharpened and moved up your spine like lightening. You pushed a hand into the loose strands of his hair and fisted it as you fucked his mouth.

Like the waves crashing around outside Rafe’s bedroom window, your climax drowned out everything else. It pulsed through you in a repeating, punishing beat. You hips kept hunching forward, stimulating your already over-stimulated nerve endings , your orgasm relentlessly going and going until you felt like you were sure you were about to cry.

You tried to slow down, but Rafe sucked at your clit again. It was too much and you were already stunned from the first round. The second one punched you in the chest, as you collapsed against the cool wall. You were weakened by pleasure, you orgasm literally striking you into silence.

You felt his warm, needy breath between your legs and realized he was barely holding on too. You let go of his hair and angled your pussy away from his mouth. He groaned with a yearning, but het you drop down to the side and lie on the bed.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped and spread a hand on your lower stomach, under your top.

You were quivering, like really quivering all over. You insides were still pulsing with the last traces of your orgasm. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You felt sticky and buoyant and frankly, fucking invincible, like every other time Rafe had made you cum.

He trapped your calf against his chest with a sweat-damp hand. “Pretty good apology, huh?” he commented, his voice scratchy with a light chuckle.

You barked out a laugh. “Oh baby, you’re not done yet.”

His head shot up, his hair sticking up in all sorts of crazy directions. “What?”

You dragged your leg out of his loose hold and planted your foot on the bed. “It’s your turn now, Rafe.”

A deviant smirk spread across his lips as he leaned towards you. “Oh, fuck yeah…”

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cheezritsu · 4 years

Text

Taiwa 2014

Summary: It’s been a long time since Tsukishima has traveled back to his hometown, Taiwa. The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei X Reader

Word Count: 9.7K

A/N: I’m bringing what’s probably one of my favorite fics over to tumblr. crossposted on AO3 if you prefer the format. Also pain; lots of pain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sitting in Yamaguchi’s car with the windows down, messing up the left side of Tsukishima’s (too long) hair, he recalls one of the reasons he left Miyagi.

He has resigned to not lean his arm outside, because the grey exterior has super heated to an ungodly degree, and he’s sure there’s a 1st degree burn that will be agitated the moment it slides against a volleyball court. He joked that Yamaguchi was trying to sabotage him, that maybe if they weren’t best friends he’d actually be upset.

But it’s not like Yamaguchi can block out the sun. He didn’t remember Miyagi summers being so damn brutal, especially not in June. The sun beamed down on them as if God had a laser pointer on Yamaguchi’s Acura LX, which seemed pretty harsh even if the car was old.

Sendai fades into the background, and the buildings get shorter and shorter like they’re descending stairs. Telephone wires criss cross the highways overhead, and incoming traffic gets a little congested. Yamaguchi leans back, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“It’s always like this now. Everyone’s moving out of Tokyo and coming up north and for what? So they can hike up grocery store prices?”

“That’s awfully prejudiced of you, Yamaguchi. Why would they raise prices if they don’t know how to cook?”

Yamaguchi laughs. “Tokyo boys ain’t shit.”

“Careful,” Tsukishima gives a close lipped smile. “Your country accent is slipping through.”

“Yours is all gone.”

“I never had an accent.”

Yamaguchi hums when he grips the steering wheel, jerking the car left as he changes lanes. “Sure.”

Tsukishima keeps his mouth shut, as if sealing the evidence.

The rip of motorbikes replaces the stalled car engines as his hometown becomes a highway exit. Like it’s been anything other than that.

Tsukishima reels as they start to pass familiar landmarks. He never realized it was all so close together; it seemed like trips that used to take hours were now whizzing past at the blink of an eye. It couldn’t be Yamaguchi’s featherfoot on the gas, either.

Suburbs isn't the right word to describe Taiwa. Hinata used to ride his bike uphill both ways to get to Karasuno, and all of his friends were spread out across the large expanse of undeveloped land. Animals likely outnumber the amount of residents in the town. When Kuroo used to call the team country bumpkin crows, he wasn’t exaggerating.

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers over. “What’s got you so upset? You just got here.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, then catches Yamaguchi still trying to look at him. “If I tell you, will you keep your eyes on the road?”

“As long as you don’t tell me something that’ll make me crash the car.”

“Just don’t crash the fucking car?”

“Spit it out, Tsukki!”

He grumbles at the old nickname. “I get enough of Koganegawa calling me that, thank you.” Date Tech’s school used to feel hours away; how long would it take under the wheels of this thing?

“Everything’s just. Closer than I remember.”

“Closer?”

“The places, I mean. The town feels smaller.”

A snort. “Sure is, hot shot. I see you got acclimated to Saitama real nice.”

There’s something charming about the northern drawl of Yamaguchi’s words he knew he’d hate coming out of his own mouth. “It’s not the same.”

Yamaguchi’s chuckle tapers into a sigh. “Neither are you.”

The blocks become residential, and houses he used to know are obscured into oblivion. The people that bike by are different, the parked cars are newer, while some faces are just older in a way that settles like lead in Tsukishima’s stomach.

And then he sees it: the house with wood paneling in the front, white everywhere else. Atop the stone pillars are the plants still taller than him, even though he’s upwards of 195cm these days. White undershirts catch the summer breeze on the clothesline, billowing like flags. Cross-hatched metal gate, a new car in the driveway. Faded pink door.

Your house. With a for sale sign in the window.

Tsukishima nearly breaks his neck as Yamaguchi passes it without so much as a glance.

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Yamaguchi checks his mirrors. “Did I see what?”

The houses blend together once again. Everyone on the street carries on like Tsukishima hasn’t been shot through the chest. He slumps into his seat, listening to dogs barking and the laughter of children as everything goes accordingly.

“It’s nothing. A kid fell off his skateboard. It looked pretty awful.”

Yamaguchi hesitates, but doesn’t question it. He minds his business, even when Tsukishima’s scowl falls into something a little more melancholy than usual.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima frowned from his post at the front desk, annoyed how your presence alone could stir...things in him.

It had been a long time since he’d seen you at the museum. Perhaps that was good for his job security, but when he saw you walking up to him in a wool blazer that looks like a mirror image of the one he had on, he couldn’t help but admit he’d missed you. He didn’t know where you’d been, and he wanted to ask, but you flashed him the 460 yen entrance fee before he could speak.

“I’ll take the 4:15 personal guided tour.”

He schooled his face to keep it flat. “How many times have I told you—”

“It’s your last day, what are they going to do, fire you?”

The sarcasm was dry, and there was no twinkle in your eye. Tsukishima sighed, taking the money and putting it in the register. His replacement, a quickly scouted kid that was barely his shoulder height, tapped away on the computer next to him. “Hey, Hiroto.”

The boy was obviously younger, probably still in high school by the way his eyes widened when his senpai called for him. “Yes, Tsukishima-sama?”

You lean against the counter. “Sama?” you mouth, lips curling into that smirk he hated to love.

“Take over the front desk for me. I have a tour to do.”

Hiroto squinted in confusion, but as soon as Tsukishima slid out of the booth the kid immediately took his place. He looked so nervous and unsure, and you, still leaning over the counter, sent him a wink.

“Don’t worry kid, just make sure you turn this over.” Your fingers toyed with a plaque, tipping it over so it read Closed. Then, you cupped one hand over your mouth, whispering close to his ear.

“This guy sucks at customer service anyways, and they kept him for a whole year.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at your loud-as-all-hell whisper, pulling your arm.

“Leave the kid alone.”

“I’m just giving him some friendly advice!”

“You’re going to give him a lot more than that if you keep with the “friendly” attitude.” Hiroto looked absolutely mortified, standing like a wooden plank at the front desk. You hummed.

“How old is he?”

Tsukishima ignored your question. You looped your arm with his. “I feel like college students keep getting smaller and smaller these days.”

“That’s because you hung out with giants.”

You walked through an ornate archway into an octagonal room filled with glass cases of samurai memorabilia. The armour room had only a few stragglers left, all of them in silent contemplation. Against the archway, an employee Tsukishima recognized gave him a long glance as you two strolled past, but Tsukishima was more preoccupied with looking at you. He would sneak glances at your reflection in the glass, concerned by the indifferent frown you sported. Maybe it was the exhibits; samurais and swords were never your thing. But there was something he couldn’t put his finger on that made him anxious.

You either didn’t notice him staring, or you didn’t care. Waltzing through the halls like you were the guide, you two stepped into the completely secluded painting wing. Sharp angled walls jutted out to create more surfaces to hang the portraits. You tilted your chin, studying them like an art critic.

“Are you going to miss working here?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “It was fine. Gave me a use for my degree.”

“You regretting college now that you’re a superstar athlete?” The words are punctuated with tiny jabs to his arm, but they lack conviction. “Kinda seems like a waste, huh?”

Tsukishima frowned. The implication that the past four years spent being in your care and watching over you were suddenly useless didn’t sit right with him. “It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

“I know,” you sighed, moving onto the next painting. “It just seems like a detour now, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re a pro-athlete.”

There was a stress on how you said “athlete” that didn’t slip past him. He realized what was so off: you weren’t imitating the goofy poses of the long dead samurai anymore. Your all black outfit, once chic, seemed like you were in mourning. The heel clicks of your loafers brought his eyes back to you, where you stood with your hands grasped behind your back, pulling your fingers tightly.

Tsukishima drew up to your side. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You whipped your head around like you’ve been caught. “What’re you talking about?”

He snorted. “You’re a bad liar, you know. Your accent is your tell.”

“Shut,” you started to say, though it lacked a hard T and it made Tsukishima laugh. “Shut up.”

It almost feels normal between you two. Almost.

“It’s been weird, you know,” you started, voice barely a whisper. You looked like you were talking to Date Masamune’s portrait when you said “I’m back at home, and you’re not there anymore.”

He didn’t know why you were saying that. He should have kicked himself in the ass and given you some kind of reassurance, but he was frozen, mouth agape with an unasked question.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Tsukishima always thought your profile should have been on these walls. You looked regal, even with your eyes fixed on the ground and an ashamed smile. “Who woulda thought two kids from Taiwa would be all the way out here, hm?” Your chuckle is self deprecating. “And now you’re gunna be playing for a Division One team in Saitama. Fuckin’ hot shot.”

You finally turn to him, head cocked with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m glad you’re getting out, Tsukki. It’s what you wanted, right?”

He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this image. Sometimes, it appears to him in dreams, your smile warped and faded like an overexposed photograph. The right words are floating in the ether above him, elusive, mocking. But he is destined to say the wrong ones.

“Yes, it is.”

You looked into Masamune’s eyes once again, like you could read the brush strokes and find the answer to the universe in them. “You deserve it, you know. Miyagi never suited you.”

The irony was lost on him, as were most things in the moment. Your presence had now soured his mood, but you hooked your arms through his like nothing was wrong.

“C’mon, this is the last time I’ll ever step foot in the place again; tell me something cool.”

You didn’t say “probably.” Tsukishima dwells on this now more than ever, because his response never addressed that. “Did you know there’s an anime series based on the Date Clan?”

Your laugh; that’s what he was more focused on. The way it lit up your face, and how you said “seriously?” a little too loud for the dead silent museum. Tsukishima hasn’t been back to Sendai City museum either, because this memory is pristine, and it’s the last one he has of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima’s family is still the same.

His mother has kept her hair short for the past fifteen years of her life, and Tsukishima might have a childlike tantrum if she’d cut it otherwise. But when Yamaguchi pulls up to his childhood home, she steps out of the house with her signature bob, sans a couple more grey hairs.

The way golden hour makes his mother look ethereal never ceases to make him smile. She gives Yamaguchi a one-armed hug as he carries Tsukishima’s luggage inside, and Yamaguchi kisses her on the cheek like a better son would.

All Tsukishima can do is stand in front of her with his hands behind his back, head dipped with a bashful smile as his mother cocks her hands on her hips. He feels sixteen again, fidgeting with his fingers when she comes closer, giving him a smile that could coax anything out of him.

“You never stop growing, do you?” She has to stand on her toes to brush back his fringe. “Even your hairs’ gotten longer.”

“Can you cut it for me? I only trust you.”

A smile. He’s suddenly even younger; twelve years old, standing in front of the house and holding up the award from the science fair. His mother is so brilliant that the sun goes away, shamed by her beauty.

“Of course, Kei. Come on, your brother’s waiting.”

Nothing’s changed in the house. Muscle memory brings him to the kitchen, where the table is set for four. Yamaguchi sheds his jacket, but Akiteru swoops behind him, snatching it from his hands.

“I’ll take that, Tadashi.” He’s as smooth and polite as ever, grinning the megawatt smile he inherited from their mother. Akiteru may be a full head shorter than Kei now, but the slap his older brother gives him still makes him lose balance.

“You done growin’ yet, you little jerk? Huh?” Akiteru has grown less doting in years gone by, much to Tsukishima’s own (disgusted) dismay. Akiteru stops, looking him up and down before that teasing grin distills into something prideful. In a flash, he is pulled into a tight hug, the pats on his back more tepid and loving. Tsukishima leans in for only a moment, and then Akiteru holds him at arms’ length.

He suspects Akiteru will say something sappy, but Yamaguchi’s jacket is thrust into his arms. “Be a good friend and put away Tadashi’s coat, will you?” He gives an infuriating wink before helping his mother in the kitchen.

Tsukishima turns, even if only to hide the sentimental smile that graces his lips. When dinner is finally ready, Tsukishima sits beside Yamaguchi, facing his mother, and suddenly he is nine years old again; Yamaguchi is over for dinner and Akiteru will no doubt embarrass him, but it’s okay because mom cooked their favorite. Time stands still and the sun doesn’t set, not for them.

It’s almost enough to make him forget. Almost.

“Did you know the (Surname) house is for sale?”

Yamaguchi blinks, but his mother doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you saw?”

“It’s the one on the way here, with the pink door. It’s hard to miss.” Tsukishima keeps eating like its normal conversation--isn’t it?--but Yamaguchi’s eyes are trying to x-ray his skull.

“It’s been up for a little while, hasn’t it Aki?”

Akiteru, who’s sixth sense is his little brother’s emotions, clears his throat. “Probably since March.”

“They’ve been wanting to get rid of that house since (Name) left.”

Hearing your name out of another person’s mouth sends a ripple through Tsukishima, like he’s been punched in the stomach. Akiteru and Yamaguchi don’t miss the way his breath hitches, how he drops his utensils to crack his knuckles.

“It’s probably too big for them anyways,” he says, returning to his meal, head bowed so he can’t see their prying eyes. “They’re getting kind of old.”

“It’s been so long since it was full, hasn’t it? Their older daughter moved out over a year ago, I think.”

His mother’s words buzz in his ears as the conversation dornes on. Akiteru steers it away from the house, asking about Tsukishima’s appointed condo in Saitama, but he only gives one word answers through the fog in his mind.

Suddenly, he is eighteen, time fast forwarding as his glasses change and his hair gets shaggier, and you, like his mother, brush it out of his vision. Yamaguchi sits on Akiteru’s left because Tsukishima scowled at the idea of you sitting next to his brother. It’s not like it even matters, because you aren’t his: everyone in the room is showering you with attention and you have to divide yourself four ways, giving them individualized smiles.

“--(Name) really broke their hearts when she left.”

“Huh?”

As it turns out, eighteen wasn’t so long ago. His mother smiles fondly at a memory. “She was a firecracker, wasn’t she? Used to walk around like she owned the place. Her older sister was always more respectful.”

“Wasn’t her older sister in a rock band?” Akiteru reminisces.

“Yeah, but which one was constantly skipping school and getting caught with boys?”

“Younger sibling privileges. They get to do whatever they want and never get punished.”

His mother laces bridges her fingers, then leans her chin down. “But everyone still loved her, didn’t they?” His mother’s eyes are far away, like she was in the same moment as her son. “I miss her.”

Tsukishima doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he has to force the words out of his throat. “Why’re you all talking like she’s dead? She just lives in...wherever the hell she got whisked off to. Who knows?”

The entire table halts, staring at him. Akiteru and Yamaguchi share another secretive glance, and Tsukishima’s forehead throbs.

“Whatever, can we just talk about something else?”

Another reason Tsukishima revered his mother: she knew how to deal with him. “Of course dear,” she says, her voice never even missing a beat. “You haven’t even told us about your last match!”

“It was televised,” he drones, but Yamaguchi gangs up on him

“It was your first time playing against the Black Jackals, though.” Despite his years of practice, Yamaguchi still has some hesitance when he changes topics. “Was it satisfying blocking Hinata’s spikes? I bet you liked shutting down Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a twitch to his lips as he gives Yamaguchi a grateful glance. The rest of dinner goes off with little conflict, and Tsukishima groans when Akiteru pulls out strawberry shortcake and the alcohol that pairs poorly with it--beer.

“I’m not drinking that.” Tsukshima means it, too, leaving his brother and Yamaguchi to their own devices. His mother cleans up easily with the extra set of hands, and while they chat over booze, he drops his things off in his old room.

It’s the same as when he left. His old books are still on the shelves, the dinosaur figures covered in a thin, disrespectful layer of dirt. His first Karasuno jersey still hangs next to his door, swinging idly when he enters.

It, like Taiwa, feels small. Perhaps it’s because his bed is still full sized, and his feet hang over the edge. His suitcase doesn’t really fit anywhere, and when he sits down at his desk, he can barely fit his knees under it. He feels like he’s in a dollhouse, or worse; a museum.

The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always.

So why did it feel like something was missing?

There’s a knock on the door he didn’t remember closing. When it opens, the light from the hallways creeps in, and Yamauchi peers inside. “Why are the lights off?”

“It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”

Yamaguchi pushes the door open with his back and when Tsukishima sees why, he lets out a snort of disbelief. “Where did you dig that up?”

The Kahlua bottle has a layer of grime on it bleach probably couldn’t cut through. It’s barely half empty, sliding across the desk into Tskishima’s waiting hands. How his friend was able to balance the bottle, a beer, and a glass of milk between his fingers was beyond him; perhaps it was the years of volleyball under his belt.

Tsukishima isn’t light handed when he pours his drink, clicking the glass with Yamaguchi’s beer and relishing it with a long sip.

“You looked like you needed it.”

“I’m fine,” he hides his lie with another sip. Yamaguchi isn’t fooled in the slightest.

“I didn’t know they’d bring it up.”

“You guys can stop using euphemisms, you know.” His amber eyes are dull when he looks over his glasses. “She’s not Beetlejuice.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “I suppose she won’t appear if we speak her name three times, but she’s frightening all the same.”

“Frightening isn’t the right word,” Tsukishima thinks, staring at how the liquor and milk swirl galaxies in his glass. Maybe if he looks hard enough he’ll find the right word to describe you, but the thought stays unfinished.

Leaning on the wall, Yamaguchi turns his head to look out the window at the last vestiges of light. “Sometimes I think I see her in the convenience store; you remember the one we used to eat at after practices in third year?” Tsukishima nods at the memory. “I’ll just be standing in line, and then out of the corner of my eye, there she is. Like a hallucination.”

Yamaguchi’s glazed eyes come back into focus, smiling sheepishly. “It’s stupid I know. It’s just,” he stares down at the floor, shifting his weight. “I know she hated Taiwa, but I thought she loved us.”

The drink has gone sour in his mouth. Tsukishima sets it down with a heavy thud, looking at Yamaguchi with a blank expression.

“I guess she didn’t.”

Yamaguchi frowns, then tilts his head back to finish his drink. “I don’t know why I thought I’d talk to you about it,” he humorlessly scoffs. “It’s been what, five years?”

“You’re the one seeing her in grocery stores. She got what she wanted; she left this place, married her rich CEO husband, and forgot about us ‘northern folk,’” Tsukishima exaggerates the accent he fought so hard not to maintain. “I’m not going down memory lane with you. Not this one.”

His tone drips with finality, and Yamaguchi pushes himself off the wall. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says, leaving the Kahlua bottle on the desk. “But don’t act like you didn’t want her to stay, too.”

Yamaguchi leaves him alone in the dark. His footsteps pound down the staircase, and as they cease, Kei slouches into his chair, defeated. He tops off his drink, taking a miserable sip while his feet push the office chair side to side.

He spins idly, and the years unravel at the seams.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Not so suddenly, he is twenty years old. It’s not a milestone, not in Japan, not anywhere in the world, and yet, you wanted to celebrate.

The day after his birthday was a lot more memorable than the actual party. Not because he was black out drunk, but because when he came back to your apartment after getting a fabulous nights rest, he was greeted with not just you, but your three overnight guests.

“What the hell happened to them?”

It was both luck and a curse that the MSBY Black Jackals were in town for a match. The few members that knew Tsukishima had come over for his birthday party, and the morning after they were face down at your kitchen table. Instead of their usual lively antics, they were slumped with hangovers, groaning in harmony.

“You’re too loooud Tsukki!” Bokuto yelled, making Atsumu Miya hiccup.

“Bokkun, please shut the fuck up,” he whispered, that melodic Kansai dialect shriveled and dry in his throat. His presence had been most shocking, but the way he called him “the snarky middle blocker” proved that he truly did remember him.

“Language,” Hinata’s tiny voice squeaked out and you chuckled behind your hand.

“They’ve been like this all morning. apparently they can’t head back in this condition, so,” you held up a frying pan. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Yer an angel, sweetheart,” Miya said, drawing himself up from the table. “If you had any painkillers you’d be a god.”

“You better get to worshipping then,” you pointed to the cabinet. “Bottom shelf, all the way against the wall.”

“Marry me,” he joked, and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at your laughter. There was something about how your hair was pulled back with a headband that made him want to possessively kiss your forehead, but he held himself back.

“What?” You said, and he realized you’d been staring at him too. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“There’s nothing picture worthy here. Except maybe those two.” He jabbed a thumb to the duo rolling on the floor. “Might keep it for blackmail.”

“You can’t blackmail people who don’t get embarrassed,” you reminded him, beginning to crack eggs into a bowl. Everything looked so effortless when you did it; even Miya was impressed by how you whisked together the eggs in a homogenous scramble.

“Gosh, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Basic mathematics, hold her alcohol, go five seconds during a movie without crying,” Tsukishima ticked off his fingers. “Need I continue?”

“I can’t stand you, so there’s another thing,” you bit back, and Miya laughed behind you. You hummed.

“You’ve got a pretty voice, Miya-San. Where’re you from?”

He raised an eyebrow at your compliment. “Well ain’t you sweet? I’m from Hyogo, darlin’, more specifically Kawanishi.”

The stove made that loud tick tick tick! as the flame flickers to life. It’s like that scene from Howl’s Moving Castle, and Tsukishima is enraptured at the sight of you pulling apart strips of bacon and placing them in the sizzling pan.

“Kawanishi,” you muttered, and Tsukishima knew that longing, tired voice of yours. It always broke his heart. “Is it big?”

“Not really; maybe ‘bout less than 200 thousand people.”

You scoffed. “Where I’m from, that's huge.”

The setter cocked his head. “Ain’t you from Sendai?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the last consonant. “I’m nobody from the middle of goddamn nowhere.”

“It’s not like you had to bike uphill both ways to get to school!” Hinata piped up from the table. “At least you lived closer to Karasuno than I did!”

“Ah, is that how you know this guy?” Miya jutted his chin toward the taller blonde. Their gazes met momentarily, and through Miya’s whisky brown eyes, Tsukishima saw a black hole of hunger. He looked back down to you as you drained the bacon onto a paper towel.

“Yup.” You were proud when you said it. “Tsukki and I have been together forever.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were dating.”

Tsukishima didn’t correct him, but you did. “We’re not not dating. Hell, to be honest we don’t even go that far back. We’re both from Taiwa, which isn’t really weird because it’s a huge place, even though there’s barely thirty thousand people in it.” A fond smile played on your lips, and you fixed Tsukishima with an adoring look.

“Thirty thousand people, and I lived walking distance from you. And you never even knew I existed.”

If he wanted to kiss your head before, the urge was stronger now. He licked his lips, putting the feelings aside. “What do you want me to do, apologize?”

“Hmm, no. I think I’ve harassed you enough to make up for it.”

That little smile on your lips said it all. You busied yourself with cooking once again, and Miya looked between you two like there was something tangible. If there ever was a red string of fate tied to your pinkies, it has long since been severed. But in this memory, the two of you danced around each other in the kitchen with ease, plating breakfast for five like husband and wife.

Actually, it was just four. You returned to cleaning the apartment, quite a monumental task with all the drunk volleyball players you’d had over last night. Tsukishima had dipped after everyone was either safe at home or tucked in on your couch, and daylight was not kind to the aftermath.

“This is why I didn’t ask for a party,” he said, watching as you tossed beer cans into a trash bag.

“You should be grateful she threw ya a party, string bean,” Miya said in between bites of toast. The eggs on his plate matched the blonde of his hair, and Tsukishima can never unsee this. “Even more so that it was a rager.”

“Yeah! (Name)-san has always been so nice to you.”

Tsukishima choked on his drink. “You must have gotten the memory knocked out of your head with a receive, shrimp. That woman has never been kind to me.”

“I threw you a whole party!”

“I am once again asking when I told you to do that.”

He could hear your petty insults drift away as you walked out of the living room. There was only the sounds of utensils scraping against plates until you stomped back in, holding up a box that filled your arms. It’s wrapped up perfectly, because you were always good at that; in second year of high school, every member of the volleyball team brought their Secret Santa gifts for you to wrap. You charged everyone five dollars, except for him.

When you got closer he could see the dinosaur stickers you’d placed sporadically across the surface, and Miya snorted with laughter when you unceremoniously dropped the present in Tsukishima’s lap.

“Happy birthday, asshole,” you spat, but he could see how the corners of your mouth tipped up in a suppressed smile, getting wider by the second.

“Well? Open it Tsukki!”

“Yeah, I wanna see!”

The peanut gallery beside him banged their hands on the table, and Miya groaned, clutching his forehead. “I’m begging you two to stop.”

Tsukishima let them carry on in their torture for a little while longer, liking the sight of the setter gnashing his teeth. When it became too much for even him, he opened the gift at the seams, careful not to rip the wrapping paper. It was pretty cute, and he smiled at the visual of you sitting down on your bedroom floor and strategically placing the stickers, your head bouncing to a playlist he’d shared with you.

When he lifted up one long edge, he caught a glimpse of the gift, and his breath hitched. He gazed up at you in disbelief, peeling it all back to reveal the turntable in all its glory.

Tsukishima is a pro-athlete now; he could afford music systems that cost more than a regular citizen’s car, and yet he still proudly displays this exact one in his Saitama apartment, and he always gets compliments from the girls he brings home. Above the wall, in a frame never to be touched, is the first record you ever gave him; the one he will find out momentarily was sitting under the box. But he wanted to drink in that particular moment, the moment his heart stopped completely.

The other three leaned over to get a better look at it, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Tsukishima was too busy memorizing your proud smile, your hand on your hips, and how the constriction of his heart resembled love a little too closely.

“Because you’re always lamenting you don’t have one. Just so you know, the only presents you’re ever getting from me are vinyls.”

He should have hugged you. He should have told you how much it meant to him, but he just assumed you could see it on his face. Maybe he expected too much from you.

But he did say, “Thank you, (name).” with the most sincerity he’d ever used, and you’d smiled like you knew he loved you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima knows he does not have enough money to buy a house, and isn’t even interested in buying one, but that doesn’t stop him from putting on his (second) best clothes and working through whatever the hell he’s going to say to the person who opens your (old) front door.

It’s the second dumbest thing he’s ever done. The neighborhood is bustling today, and a couple people do double takes as he strolls by with his headphones up, cap tilted low. He’s aware he kinda looks like he’s undercover in a Marvel movie, but there’s only so much he can do; height is a curse, he keeps telling people, but they never listen.

He blends in enough not to get stopped, which may be yet another curse, because then he’d have time to recollect his thoughts and ask what the fuck he thought he was doing walking to your parents house in the middle of the goddamn day like they didn’t have jobs. Had his brain finally conked out now that he was a jock for a living?

Maybe so, because the faded pink door was finally in sight. From the street he could see it clearly: a realtor’s number under the brilliant bold FOR SALE, like it’s yelling at him to leave. But his eyes drift, catching the little details of your house.

Everything in his memories has shrunk and distorted, but not this place. It’s still as clear as day: the red brick steps up to the door, lined with potted plants your mother had a talent for growing. The iron gates have rusted with time, and they stand much shorter now that he’s 195 cm. The bushes were trimmed into weird rounded shapes, both indicative of the neighborhood, and still odd in your front yard. The second story balcony had the same sheets—the same fucking ones from high school! Tsukishima had to laugh.

And then his laugh tapers off as he realizes they’re yours. Purple with little moons and cartoon bunnies on them. The sheets from Sailor Moon! Your whine is an echo in his ears.

He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets as the memories bombard him one by one, crowding his brain, making him lose his—

The front door opens, creaking like a horror movie sound effect. Tsukishima steps back, watching in terror as a figure comes into view, checking his pockets before lifting his head up and seeing a man—a fucking giant—standing right outside his house.

“Hello?” he greets cautiously, stepping closer.

Tsukishima holds in a breath. Your father has gotten old; almost all the hair on top of his head has thinned and greyed, like a samurai in a black and white movie. He’s still wearing the same uniform from the manufacturing plant he was employed at back when you were in high school, his (your) surname stitched on the pocket. He holds a lunchbox in one hand, the other curled into a defensive fist by his side. Intimidating as always.

That is until he squints, and then his eyes light up with recognition. “Tsukishima? Tsukishima Kei?”

With equal hesitation, Tsukishima walks up to the gate. Your father pushes it open, and when he walks down the steps to be on even ground with Tsukishima, he laughs at how much shorter he’s become.

“My god,” he whispers it like he’s staring at a ghost. Tsukishima feels too aware of his long legs and arms, holding them behind his back when he bows respectfully.

“(Surname)-san,” he says, and your father’s eyes twinkle. “It’s been a long time.”

“So it has. How have you been, boy? I hear you’re playing for Saitama now.”

The recognition has him reeling. It’s too much, he shouldn’t have come. His stunned silence makes your father laugh.

“No need to be modest about it! We’ve been following your progress, you know.” He sounds proud, as if he was talking to his own son. “I always brag to my coworkers that a pro-athlete used to come to my house. Three of em, really! How fortunate you’ve all been.”

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “It’s been such a long time.”

“How is your mother?” She must be awfully lonely without you two boys in the house.”

“I’m visiting her now. She told me your house was for sale?”

Your father was never an idiot. He looks up at the for sale sign, something heavy settling on his shoulders. “Both of my daughters have moved farther away than we intended,” he sighs, although there is no particular sadness in his tone. “I’m proud of them both, really, although (Name) has less filial piety than her sister.”

“She was,” Tsukishima cannot use the word that comes to mind in front of your father. “Something.”

Your father barks out a laugh. “That’s the polite way to say she was a pain in the ass.” Tsukishima’s posture visibly relaxes. “You couldn’t tell her nothin’. Sort of a shame she’s someone’s housewife, ya know? She would have done great things.”

This time there is a wistful quality about his voice, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “You know, you haven’t been here in a while. (Name)’s mom would love to see you. You were her favorite of all (Name)’s friends, I think.”

A paternal pat on the arm makes all thoughts of weaseling out of this fly out the window. Tsukishima ascends the steps, the top of his head brushing just underneath the archway.

“They don’t make houses for your height, I’m afraid.”

“I’m used to it.”

He wasn’t sure why he expects the inside will be any different. There’s no new furniture, the walls are all the same color, even the books your parents kept out were arranged the same way from nearly five years ago. The only difference is you’re not running down the stairs to save him from the embarrassment of talking to your parents.

“Honey?” your father’s voice calls out as they round a corner. “You’ll never believe this: there was a professional athlete just standing outside.”

You mother looks over her small glasses from where she’s sitting, her brows furrowing, then raising as she places her hand over her mouth. Much like his own mother, time has been kind to her, the only signs of aging appearing in the grey that grew from her back roots.

“Oh my-” she’s standing in front of him with an awed look, and Tsukishima remembers that you and your mom have the same face, just older. He once thought he’d get to see you this age, maybe even in a house like this. His eyes fall to the floor, because your mother looks like the future he can no longer have.

She holds his arms like she’s going to lift him, her lower lip trembling. “Look at you! So tall, still so handsome. (Name) was an idiot for never making you my son-in-law.”

It used to be embarrassment that pained him. Now it was bittersweetness filling his mouth as he thought of something to say to that. “Yeah, she was” feels a little too familiar, and not at all cognizant of his broken heart.

“Oi,’ your father warns. “Enough of that, yeah?”

“Oh,” she swats her hand in his direction, then looks back up to Tsukishima with praising eyes. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Tsukishima rubs his arm, giving her a strained grin. He didn’t expect your parents to reopen the wound he’s done his best to forget. Time is supposed to heal all, but you are a fever that’s never broken.

“I came by because I saw the house was for sale.”

Your mother’s face softens. “Oh, you must have so many memories here. Gosh, you haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Years” your father pipes up.

“Years. You should head up to (Name)’s room, you might find something in there.”

This simultaneously piques his interest and fills him with existential dread. “Is that alright?”

“You’re probably the last person in Taiwa that has attachments to this house besides us.”

The sobering reality of that statement makes him drag his feet up the stairs. He looks back down, and he feels like he’s staring backwards in time. Every step forward is another year, and suddenly he’s anxious like he’s entering a girl’s room for the first time.

Your presence, though missing, is overwhelming. He remembers condensation from something dripping onto the hard word floors he’s standing on now, your heart patterned socks mopping it up behind him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was still up over the horizon, late July prickling Tsukishima’s bare arms with the last vestiges of heat. Your white dress shirt was speckled with little dots of red like a blood splatter.

“You look like a homicide victim.”

“You look like you swallowed blue paint.”

Convenience store slushies were actually a terrible way to beat the heat. They condensed and made the cup soggy, meanwhile the ice in the drink melts immediately after it leaves the machine. But Tsukishima wasn’t going to say no when after ten minutes of begging, Hinata proclaimed he would buy him “his last slushie of high school.” Tsukishima had just clicked his tongue, telling the excited middle blocker, “As long as you’re paying,” so he wouldn’t see how red his ears were.

Hinata and Yamaguchi chuckled at your little back and forth, while Kageyama slurped his drink with a seriousness that didn’t suit the moment. Bathed in sunshine, you all looked like bronze statues: immortal, eternal and infallible. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but Tsukishima still liked the analogy.

“You would think after spending like, every waking moment together these two would be nicer to each other.” Hinata hummed.

“I thought graduation might make them sentimental,” Yamaguchi sighed. His hair was long back then, decorated with multicolored clips you had strategically placed to match their uniforms. Tsukishima has told his friend once and only once that he liked this hairstyle on him the most. He doesn’t know if it’s because he has the happiest memories associated with it or not. Not that Tsukishima would ever say that.

Yamaguchi pulled his little ponytail taut. “And to think, I wanted them to get their happily ever after.” How a person could look so much like the tear drop emoji, Tsukishima would never know. Your disgusted grunt broke his thoughts.

“Ugh Yama, please,” you begged, throwing away your slushie like he’d spoiled your appetite. “Will you cut it out with this fantasy of yours?”

“What? Wouldn’t it be nice if my two friends got married?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Tsukishima deadpanned.

“I’d divorce him and steal all his money.”

“Now you’re entertaining the thought.”

Hinata jumped excitedly. “I think it’d be really cute! You guys are going to the same University right?”

Tsukishima bristled, staring at his shorter teammate with contempt. “That means nothing.”

“It means you still have time!”

Tsukishima hated the gremlins optimism, but in that moment, with the sun painting a strip of light across your already brilliant eyes, he’d had the fleeting thought that Hinata could be right.

(He can’t kid himself. It wasn’t a passing thought; it was all consuming, like a tsunami. He couldn’t sleep, because he would dream of domesticity, and your next words cemented how unrealistic this was.)

You waved your hand at Hinata. “I’m not the marrying type, Hinata-kun.”

(A complete lie, but back in 2014, he’d believed you.)

“Besides, what’s so exciting about marriage when Kageyama’s going to be a famous athlete by next year, hm? And you’re off to fucking Brazil.”

All eyes shifted to the quiet setter, still casually drinking his slushie. When he opened his mouth to speak, his mouth was comically purple.

“Marriage isn’t any less significant than being an athlete.” He’d said, sounding very much like the student counselor. Then he grimaced. “But you two would be an unholy couple.”

You broke into piercing laughter. The sound still rings in Tsukishima’s ears. “Kags, will you join me and Tsukki in an unholy matrimony?”

“You want me to get married to you two?”

“No, idiot, she wants you to officiate the wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“I-“ Tsukishima shook his head. “Good fucking question. I’m not marrying you.”

He wonders from time to time if you’d been serious back then. It didn’t make any sense when you were third years, but in retrospect, maybe, just maybe you were hinting something. That sun-made sparkle in your eyes glittered with dimension, and underneath the mirth was something Tsukishima never understood. He thought he would have more time to.

“My original point still stands,” you said, exasperated. “You’re all going off to do great things, and I’m just going to Tohoku.”

“Oi,” Tsukishima chided. “Don’t make it sound so inconsequential when I’m going there too.”

“You're literally going on a full ride with your volleyball scholarship,” you rolled your eyes. “So, no, it’s not inconsequential. It’s just not the same.”

Tsukishima will not be able to fully read you until freshman year of college, so he didn’t catch your downturned lips or how you tried to blink away welling tears. He just thought you were malfunctioning. “You’re being weird.”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends.”

“AHHH! (Name)!” Hinata jumped high enough to nearly kick you in the head. He looked at you with teary eyes and you’re astonished, even though you’ve known him for three years. “Don’t miss us! Don’t be sad!!”

“We’re not even gone yet,” Kageyama grumbles, and you grasped at your heart, confusing him.

“Kageyama...do you care about my feelings?”

“What about his response gave you that idea?”

The black haired setter clicked his tongue. “I’m just saying, we haven’t graduated yet so you don’t have anything to be sad about right now.”

“I can’t believe the Kageyama Tobio is giving me a pep talk,” you dabbed at your eyes dramatically. Kageyama flicked water onto your face, and you giggled.

“Hey!” He was relentless, so you hid behind Tsukishima who didn’t have a quick enough reaction time to be mad at you. Not that he would say anything about the way your hands touched his sides, sending a jolt down his body. His face is probably as red as a slushie.

“Kageyama, when you’re rich and famous I’m going to send all the embarrassing pictures I have to the paparazzi.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the mental image. “That would take an hour long special.”

“A two part hour long special.”

“You’re a fake friend,” Kageyama said, and you prop your head on his shoulder.

“That would imply that I don’t love you all, and that could never be true.”

You used to say such brash things so casually. Kageyama, with his congested emotions, bloomed into a furious blush. Hinata mocked him, pressing his wet hand against his heated face, much to Kageyama’s dismay. Chuckling at the freak duos antics, you shuffled into Tsukishima’s side, who simply looked on with indifference.

“You’re such a sap, (Name),” Yamaguchi notes, and you gave him a brilliant smile, more golden and beautiful than the sunset at their backs. The only thing Tsukishkma laments is that the smile wasn’t aimed at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tsukishima walked ahead of everyone, slurping aggressively on his slushie, trying to quell the jealousy that erupted in his chest. He didn’t have the right to feel so possessive over a friendly declaration, but it still worked its way into his heart.

Suddenly you were beside him, leaning forward to catch his expression. “What’re you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding.”

“Ya know, Tsukki, you shouldn’t be jealous,” Your grin is troubling and sweet, because you’re a walking contradiction. Here and gone all at once.

“Who says I’m—“

“Because I love you most of all.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The door to your room is open. Tsukishima stands at the threshold, hands stuffed in his pockets so he can’t feel them tingle as he approaches.

Already he can tell something isn’t right. The blinds are closed even though it’s the middle of the day, making slits of light like jail bars shine across the floor. The walls are completely stripped of posters and pictures, but they never stripped away the paint. The blue has faded with years gone by, and everything is a hollow shell of what it used to be.

Tsukishima steps in. It doesn’t feel like anything special, which annoys him a little. But then again, how could it feel like anything different when the room has changed so much?

It’s a storage room now. Your bed is gone, your bedside table stuck up against the wall. Your antique dresser, the one you were so proud to steal from your sister, stands alone on the far wall, no clothes sticking out. Your closet is open with suitcases crammed inside, the hangers swinging idly and the floorboards creak under his weight.

It feels colder in here. There’s no peach scented candles, no window open, no nothing. This isn’t yours. This isn’t right.

It’s blasphemous what they’ve done. Tsukishima is not an irrational, angry person, and yet he has the violent urge to take a metal baseball bat and smash everything in your room. Not your room.

Tsukishima's trembling fingertips trace over a water raised circle on your bookshelf, a scar to mark your existence. And there, on the side, where you recorded the length of your growing ivy plant, the months going down down down like a timeline until they stop. Until you’re gone with hardly a trace.

Tsukishima balls his fists. You did leave something behind. He just can’t touch it, can’t see it anywhere else but his mind's eye and he curses because no one can see how you’ve ruined his life and continue to, even in this void you’ve created in your absence.

He stops trying to control it. The memory swirls over him like a hurricane, pounding against his skull as tears well in his eyes. He falls to his knees to take a breath, then lays on the floor, in the exact spot where your bed used to be; in the middle of the room, parallel to the windows. He can almost feel the Sailor Moon sheets, closing his eyes. His panicked breathing splits into two, and like Athena from Zeus, you’ve sprung from his mind.

You’re catching your breath. The drawn curtains turn afternoon sunlight into a diffused red glow. It colors Kei’s pale skin and blonde hair a dreamy pink, and you roll onto your naked stomach, legs kicking up playfully.

Through the haze of warmth and pleasure, Kei cracks open an eye just a little bit to see you gazing at him with a sickly sweet smile. Your index finger traces his collarbone, setting fire to the skin underneath.

“What’re you doing?” He croaks, and your chuckle sends waves of pleasure to his crotch. You drag your blunt nails across his throat, and he suppresses a hiss.

“Can’t I touch you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

In all the years that came after this, Kei couldn’t figure out why this happened. It felt like—still feels like—a fluke the universe handed out to him. It never happens again and you never talk about it.

This memory is his most prized possession: he keeps it under lock and key in the back of his mind because the way his palm tenderly connects to your cheek baffles him. His hand slides down, knuckles skimming your jaw in soft strokes, like he’s carving you out of clay.

“You said—“

“I know what I said.” Your hand catches his wrist, bringing his long, slender digits to your lips. You inspect the cuts and bruises, how they’re bent and mangled from blocking harsh spikes and slamming down equally powerful ones. You kiss them like you could heal them, and Tsukishima wouldn’t put it past you.

“Did I change your mind?” He has a smile that’s a little too smug. You’re ignoring his face and he feels anxious; he wants your eyes on his so you’ll melt, so he can devour you while you helplessly watch just how you’ll go down.

That never happens. Not with you. You open your mouth and give one clean suck to his index finger, and Kei inhales through his nose to control the heat pooling to his abdomen.

You kiss the pad of his finger. “I guess I had second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts?”

“You’re trying to get into Tohoku, right?”

“So are you.”

“Right. If we don’t get in—“

“Don’t jinx it, stupid.”

“—if I don’t get in, I don’t want to feel like I wasted my time.”

His brows furrow. Kei draws up on his side, catching himself with his elbow. His body is thoroughly wrecked from giving you everything, and he shivers upon seeing the damage on your neck. But he pushes aside all thoughts of pleasure and stares down at you. “What are you talking about?”

Your hands drag down his chest, trailing the curves and contours of the muscle he’s built up for three years. His shoulders have broadened out and his waist tapers into a trim V. He is chiseled marble, a statue come to life in your bedroom. If only he were as permanent.

Kei follows your gaze, reaching down to intertwine your hands. The gesture is obscene, intimate, and reverent all at one. “(Name),” he pleads, and your eyes flicker up to his.

“You really think you’re going to stay in Miyagi? You, Tsukishima Kei? With the handsome face and the brains and the brawn?” You’re joking, trying to put on a smile but your voice is thick with emotion. You can’t hide, not after what you’ve just done. “You’re going to be, I don’t know, something great, and I’ll be here, like always.”

(Tsukishima, the one on the cold floor with his eyes closed could laugh. What he wouldn’t give to be here, with you.)

The old him didn’t share that sentiment. “So, you wanted to have sex with me because you didn’t want to miss the opportunity?”

“You’re missing the point, Kei.”

“Hey now, just because we fucked doesn’t mean you can get familiar.”

You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but his fingers curl, locking you in. He pulls you closer so your bodies are flush, and lays his head next to yours.

“You act like you’re not more than capable of getting out on your own.”

“It’s easier for you,” you admit, words nothing but a whisper. “You’re so bright, Kei, so talented. I think it would be cruel if you didn’t leave.”

“God you’re so,” he‘s stuttering, trying to keep the awe from your voice. He can’t hide from you, not after what you’ve just said. “You don’t get it, do you? How you’re the only good thing about Taiwa, about fucking Miyagi.”

“Kei,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. “Kei stop.”

“This is the only time I’m going to say something nice about you, so.” He tilts your chin with the hand that’s bigger than your whole head, gentle as a lamb. “I don’t want to be like all the other Karasuno grads, living and dying here.”

“We can’t do anything about it.”

“Like hell we can’t. If either of us get out, if I get out, we’re going together.”

“Ha,” you laugh dryly. It certainly knocks him down a peg to hear you reject his proposition. “Please don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“Well, you gotta keep up your end of the bargain. Get into Tohoku and we can take it from there. It’ll be you and me.”

“This doesn’t sound like the Tsukishima I know,” you say coyly, lopsided smirk making him crazy. “What’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“It could be that there’s someone I don’t mind being sappy for, especially if they’re naked under me.”

“I’m not—“ the words are stolen from you as Kei bruises your lips with a kiss. His hands turn your cheek toward him, and he kisses you into the mattress, all while climbing on top of you. He pulls back with a satisfied smirk, your lips glistening with (his) saliva.

“You were saying?”

You shove him and he falls back against your knees. “No, you were saying.”

Kei presses his chest against yours, kissing your neck, your jaw, then your lips in a softer kiss. “We’ll get out of here together. How does that sound?”

You don’t have a hopeful face. Your eyes have closed and you sigh, like you’re looking into the future and seeing Kei’s broken promise play over and over in your head. You two were young, but even you were less optimistic than he was.

You opened your eyes, letting your face morph into a happiness Kei now realizes is tinged with melancholy. He thinks it’s beautiful, in a tragic sense. Tragedies were timeless classics, like you.

“It sounds like you should put your money where your mouth is.”

“Do I ever disappoint?”

This brings out your real smile, beaming at him like the sun and the moon and every star in the galaxy. “Never. Not to me.”

Tsukishima lays on the cold floor with his hand over his eyes, lungs threatening to pop as he tries to exhale the guilt and heartache. None of the memories of this god forsaken town and this goddamn house hold anything but guilt, nothing but a knife in his stomach; the same one he stabbed into your back the day he signed on for the Saitama Spears and left.

He used to firmly believe that if you never try at something, it can’t break your heart. He took that attitude to volleyball and wasn’t proven wrong. Tsukishima does not know if it would hurt more if he’d tried with you. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose; he simply forgot. Somewhere in the shuffle, somewhere between keeping his promise and not, it slipped from his hands like a bad block.

He tries wiping the tears from his eyes. It’s not like thinking about it matters anymore; there’s no differentiation between the memories and the reality, only the same crushing pain.

And yet, Tsukishima finds himself dissociating into the ceiling. If he stops breathing, he can hear your laughter echo off the walls. Perhaps his ghost and yours can live here forever, like they do in his mind.

It’s the only way he can keep his promise.

149 notes · View notes

amerrierworld · 4 years

Text

Mine (pt 2)

Ocean’s 8 fan fiction

For anon!

Pt 1: x

Summary: After your skirmish at the bar, Lou begins to second guess herself about your relationship, but you find a way to assure her who you belong to.

Characters: Lou x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings: smut! bondage but with tender and lovin’ intentions (basically fucking but with feels ?). submissive Lou this time to show her ‘soft, hidden and vulnerable side’ ;)

The ride home was quiet, save for the whipping of wind tousling your hair as Lou sped her bike back to the loft. You clung onto her leather jacket, grinning at the memory of what had happened and the throbbing between your legs.

You felt warm and secure as you held onto her from behind, and part of you wondered what had brought on Lou’s dominance other than the creep from the bar earlier.

When you arrived, you pushed it to the back of your mind; that wasn’t important anymore. You gave Lou a quick kiss before stripping while heading up to the bedroom, determined to get out of your smelly clothes.

Lou, following you, probably expected a round two, but all you could think about was crashing on the bed which you did, groaning a bit as the soft pillows welcomed your aching body.

The bed creaked as Lou came to sit next to you, still dressed, and ran a bejewelled hand over your back as you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Was I too rough, babygirl?” she asked softly, the hint of worry in her voice barely noticeable for you as you were on the edge of falling asleep.

“Hmph- nonsense,” you mumbled into the pillows, enjoying her smooth caresses over your skin. “You could never hurt me.”

“If I had hurt you- you’d tell me, right?”

You turned and shifted your body so you were laying on your side, glancing up at her.

“Well yeah, but I won’t have to, because I know you wouldn’t. Where’s this coming from?”

Lou was looking at her hands trailing down your arm instead of your face.

“Nowhere, just- If I’m not making you... happy, you’d tell me?”

A beat passed. Her blue eyes flickered up at yours and you saw sudden worry and uncertainty in them. Your breath hitched and you pulled her closer, cupping her face.

“Lou, I’ve never been happier with anything or anyone else than I have been with you. No woman or man or whatever could take that away from us.”

She nodded meekly, eyes glistening. You kissed her again, and again.

“Come to bed,” you whispered against her cheek. “Come cuddle, and sleep. We both need rest.”

She slowly pried your fingers away and shook her head. You were defeated.

“No, I’ve got some work left to do. You sleep, sweetheart. I’ll come join you later.”

You huffed as she suddenly stood up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind you and leaving you alone. Your heart broke a little, but you knew better than to follow her. You stayed up a little longer, but you knew she wouldn’t come in if you were still awake.

She’d need a bit of time, you thought as you fell asleep. Lou always seemed strong, confident and demanding, but you knew she really was vulnerable and sensitive, especially when it came to risk of losing things she loved or needed in her life. In this case, you.

When the sun hit your eyes and forced you to wake up, you were expecting to feel warm breath on your ear, and a familiar arm wrapped around you, but instead the bed was empty save for you sprawled across the sheets.

Your eyes adjusted and you looked up, first confused, and then worrying about Lou and what she may have done last night when you didn’t follow her.

Your worries were immediately answered, however, when you noticed at the other end of the bedroom, Lou was curled up on one of the armchairs, covered by only a measly throw. She hadn't even changed out of her clothes from the day before, and her hair was messy beyond recognition.

You huffed a little in anger at the thought of her breaking her promise of coming to sleep next to you. Then again, she never said she’d come join you in the bed, only that’d she’d be there.

Emotions battled in your heart before you scurried off the bed and approached Lou’s sleeping form. You gently took off her shoes and socks for her, removing the throw. She tossed a bit and you brushed her hair back to whisper softly at her.

“Hey, baby. You awake?”

Her eyes opened a crack, but you could tell she wasn’t fully conscious. Stumbling a bit, she allowed you to get her up and fully undressed before you lowered her to the bed where she collapsed on the sheets.

You bit your lower lip in thought. You knew simply talking to her about last night wouldn’t cut it, it never did. It would take action of some kind to get through to Lou that she was all you wanted, and that she shouldn’t be too afraid of losing you, because you couldn’t imagine any other life without her.

Her body began curling into a comfortable ball again and you stopped her, grasping her wrists.

“Nuh-uh,” you said softly. Her eyes fluttered a bit in recognition and she grumbled, but you held her firmly. That’s when an idea struck you, and you formed a plan.

You hurried to the little chest where Lou kept all the toys you both used and you pulled out several lengths of soft rope.

“What’re y’doing,” Lou mumbled as you began fastening her limbs to the bed.

“Hush,” you responded as you finished tying her feet and wrists to the bed. Her head lolled to the side a bit, snoring. Knowing she was tired, you made your way to the armchair where she’d been resting, and waited.

Lou woke not too long after, trying to stretch out languidly as her mind came to, before realizing something was amiss. Her eyes blinked, seeing she’d been tied to the bed. Frantically looking around, she searched the room before seeing you sitting in the chair, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” you said, standing up. You were both already stripped off your clothes, and Lou couldn’t help the rush of lust that passed through her body at the sight of you. Those feelings were unfortunately quenched at the memory of last night before she’d taken you against her desk. The risk of losing you, the fear she wasn’t adequate, the-

“I was hoping to find you next to me when I woke up, but I was kinda let down when I realized you hadn't come to bed,” you began as you approached the bed, kneeling on the end.

“So,” you continued. “I hope you don’t mind me taking some things into my own hands. I think there’s some things we need to go over, don’t you?”

You made your way until you sat perched on Lou’s middle, knees on either side of her and she squirmed a little as memories of last night and early this morning finally hit her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she began, eyes raking up your form as lust slowly filled them. You knew she wanted nothing more than to fuck you, but you wouldn’t let her. Not yet.

You trailed a hand over her chest, passing over her breasts with light strokes.

“Lou, I don’t think you realize how much I need you,” you said as you lowered your torso to hover your lips over hers, kissing lightly. “You fucked me beautifully last night, and I adored every second of it, but...”

Her breathing picked up as your nails scratched her stomach.

“...but you were afraid, before you took me up to your office, right? You were worried I wouldn’t comply, that I didn’t want you, that I wanted someone or something else in my life?”

Lou swallowed thickly. She couldn’t meet your eyes, but she nodded, slowly.

“Why, baby? Don’t you know I love you?” your lips hovered over her jawline as you kissed and nibbled the delicate skin. Her back arched at the feeling and she finally managed to force out some kind of sentence.

“I- I was afraid.. I am afraid that one day you’ll find someone else, that’s not so risky, not so dangerous. I’m a bit old, y’know,” she breathed quietly. “And I’m a con. Anyone else could easily be a better fit for you. Someone younger, more noble, more normal, with a normal job and normal goals...”

She trailed off, not wanting to continue her most devastating fantasy of you one day disappearing from her life. It was the one thing that made her cringe with fear and worry every day.

You noted her eyes were squeezed shut, and you pressed yourself even closer, marking her neck. Lou relaxed a bit, mewling through a tight-lipped frown at the sensation.

As you sat up you flicked your hair out of your face and chuckled.

“For a clever con, you can be a bit thick sometimes, sweetheart,” you said to her. Lou’s eyes fluttered open and she stared at you.

“I don’t need anyone normal or younger or anything stupid like that. I want you, and that's it.”

You grasped a nipple between your lips and sucked slowly.

“A-ah,” Lou gasped out, back arching against you and her wrists straining against the rope.

“Let me show you,” you whispered against her skin that was slowly forming sweat as she became more and more turned on. “Let me show you how much I need you, baby.”

You trailed kisses down her breasts to her stomach, sucking marks into her skin.

“Do you want that?”

Lou nodded frantically, breathing a quiet ‘yes, please’ and you smiled, biting her hip.

“First off, no one makes me feel like you do,” you began, tucking yourself neatly between her legs and caressing her thighs with your fingers.

“I’ve said it before, but no one can touch me like you can. The way you touch me, hold me, fuck me is enough to drive me crazy with need every. single. day.”

“Fuuuccckk.”

You grinned with your mouth pressed against the inside of her thigh, swiping your tongue close to her cunt and scratching with your teeth.

“And you don’t just drive me wild, Lou. You make me happy,” you whispered. Your thumb found her clit and began rubbing lightly, making her keen and pant against your touch.

“Every day, being with you, getting to hold you and live with you and be yours? It’s a dream come true, and I mean that.”

Lou was squirming under your touch, pressing the side of her face into the pillow.

“I said I was yours, last night, over and over and over. It’s the truth, I mean it. When you fuck me, when you kiss me, or even when we’re being an ordinary, boring couple, whenever. Every time, always. I’m yours.”

You sucked her clit between your lips and Lou let out a cry, trembling.

“Please...” she breathed out, her head pushed back, giving you an eyeful of her gorgeous jawline and smooth skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Only if you say you believe me. Only if you say that you’re mine, as well,” you commanded. “Come on, babygirl. I wanna show you how much I love you.”

Lou bit her lip, breathing heavily and eyebrows furrowing with emotion as she tried to force herself to say it. You abandoned your current task to come back up to her face.

“Say it, Lou. I’m yours, and I’m never going anywhere. Do you understand? I belong to you.”

She nodded, staring you deeply in the eyes.

“Now tell me who you belong to,” you mumbled as you kissed her, letting two fingers press against her cunt and teasing to enter her.

“Ah! You,” she cried out. “I belong to you. N-no one else.”

“And I to you, sweetheart. Don’t you dare forget it,” you said softly. You then pressed your fingers inside in one smooth push, and Lou tensed for a moment before relaxing.

“Oh, oh, god, Y/N, Y/N,” she chanted your name as if lost for words, and you smiled, your heart beaming.

You set a slow, smooth pace, making sure to hit every spot inside her. With a hand over one of hers, the other fucking her carefully, and your mouth pressed against her neck, Lou came with a long, choked cry.

It took several moments. Her limbs trembled and jolted as your thumb worked every spasm out of her clit, whispering ‘good girl’ and confessions of love in her ear.

“I love you,” you said earnestly as you pulled out. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as you worked to untie her and as soon as you were done she lunged at you.

Lou held you tightly and peppered you with kisses until you could barely breathe. When you managed to move away from her mouth, tears were forming in her eyes and you desperately tried to wipe them away. A chuckle erupted from her, and you realized she was crying tears of joy.

“I don’t know what to say, or how to thank you,” she started, but you stopped her there.

“You never need to thank me. Ever. I wanted to show you you never have to worry about me leaving. I’ll never leave, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve caught me, and I’m yours.”

Lou allowed you to lower the two of you to the bed. You kissed her wrists and massaged her palms while curled up against her. You also tried to make something of the mess that her hair had become, but with no success.

As you worked diligently with her blonde locks, her blue eyes never strayed from your face. Her hands were wrapped around your waist, tickling and caressing. When you were done, you quirked a smile at her and she giggled, before pulling you in for another kiss, sighing into your mouth,

“Mine.”

A/N: whoop. there it is. emotional sex? yes pls. As always, I hope you liked it, lovelies. I'm slowly getting back on track with writing and all your wonderful requests so stay tuned!

#lou miller #lou x reader #lou x you #lou miller x reader #cate blanchett #oceans 8 #oceans8 #oceans 8 fanfic #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #merry writes

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orange-waterfalls · 4 years

Text

Reader w/wings hc's p.2: lesser- known egos/egos i just didn’t wanna put in the last one

ty @fancybootm for the request!

A/N: IT’S BEEN A WHOLE ASS MONTH SINCE I GOT THIS I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. school is suck. anyways. my brain convinced itself that I had to have the same amount of egos in this one as the last one so shit's long again. I had a bit of trouble but scrounged up enough of them. uhhh I don't... we don't really know a lot? about the personalities of these ones? so I just went with what I thought. for Heistiplier, I like to think Mark in AHWM and ADWM is a completely separate person from Actor. Like until we get to the Actor timeline he is a separate person altogether. Night Guard Mark is like mark from the fnaf musical because i can and fuck you. the egos are very random and from many lesser known videos so uh. you might not know all of them. I didn’t even know all of them at first. some of these fuckers annoy me to no end so I had to make them more likable for my own sanity cjfufydy. I only skimmed through after I wrote so it might suck lol. Uh rated T for cursing. Mentions of religion and mental health. Enjoy!

Y/N(reader) w/ wings headcanons p.2

Ed Edgar saw you as a profiting opportunity.

Bastard only uses you for commercials at first

Wings sell shit, don’t they? Kids are into wings these days?

One day you get pissed and just punch him

He respects you after that…

He’s very loud, of course, and your ears tend to be sensitive

He tries to quiet down when he sees you make a face

It’s difficult because that… that’s just his normal volume

He talks about his son sometimes. Not to you specifically

He gets sad… you still don’t completely understand what happened.

Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t either

You instinctively wrap your wings around him for Safety and Comfort

He is a MAN who DOES NOT CRY but goddammit, he was close

He enjoys your company

The Silver Shepherd thought he was gonna rescue you

He’s a superhero, he HAS to save you, right?

Nah, you’re the one saving him more often than not

He tries not to be jealous, but goddamn

Your wings are just. So big. And pretty

He’ll complain to you about his girlfriend “cheating” on him

You know the bullshit he pulls, but you listen because why not

He appreciates that you at least pay a little bit of attention

He doesn’t do a whole lot of hero work, but he usually brings you along

Just for a bit of extra support

More often than not, you’re doing most of the work

You let him believe he did something, though

You boost his very low ego, and so you get along

Derek Derekson was a little bitch

Also saw you as a profiting opportunity

Yelled sometimes when you messed up

You took deep breaths and tried to stay calm the first few times

Then you snapped, calling him a variety of... words...

He stopped yelling at you, but not much else changed

You got along well with Eric, and he appreciated you for that

He does care about his only living son, at least a little

You two don’t… talk a lot

He’ll watch you from afar, occasionally

You constantly encourage him to TALK TO HIS CHILD and GO TO THERAPY

You still don’t like him, and he feels the same way

But he’s… trying

Randall Voorhees thought you were badass

He wasn’t as used to magic and weird shit as the others

You were absolutely awesome to him

He’d never seen an angel before!

Even though he didn’t really KNOW that you were an angel

He just assumed and refused to change his mind

Harder to hide you wings in crowded cities, like where he lives

You spend a lot of your time with him cooped up in his apartment

He felt bad, so he rents a mountain cabin up in Albany whenever you visit

You two ski and snowboard look me in the eyes and tell me the bitch isn’t a snowboarder

He’s a construction worker, so he’s usually busy

You visit him on his lunch break sometimes.

The other workers claim to see you, but he’ll always deny it

He buys a pizza whenever you visit and you eat it together

You two are so cute it’s sickening

Yandereplier claimed you as their new senpai

They saw you, you had wings, you were nice

And now you are Senpai

You aren’t sure why you get a weird feeling whenever they call you this

Luckily, you don’t have many friends, at least none that they could kill…

They showed you their weapon collection to impress you

You were scared and also impressed

They take you to a cherry blossom tree near their house

You talk and hang out and eat lunch

They don’t call you senpai anymore and they talk to you normally

And you no longer stare at the blood on their uniform

Night Guard Mark prayed you wouldn’t try to kill him

He might have PTSD from Freddy Fazbear’s

Those animatronics left a mark…

It took a little while for him to trust you not to harm him

When he did, HOO BOY is he a chatterbox

He has so many theories about the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Chain

Dark’s told you not to talk about the actual lore. It might break his spirit

You get very worried sometimes

He looks like that one picture of Charlie Day. You know the one.

Sometimes he gets panic attacks

You wrap him in a cocoon of your limbs and wings to ground him

He likes you for that

You hang out, playing games and watching movies. No horror. Absolutely NONE

You can handle him, and he likes you

Dr. Plier was curious about you

He wondered how you felt about… everything

He asked if you were ok one day and you broke down

He felt guilty and bought you ice cream

He sees you as a sort of… psychological experiment

Like he asks you very strange and slightly personal questions

Ok, very personal, but he’s a therapist, what can you do

He eventually stopped the interrogation and talked to you normally

You get along fine, but it’s kind of the same situation as Dr. Iplier

Chef Iplier wasn’t really all that phased

You were surprised by this because… well… wings

But he just… treats you normal, for the most part.

Sometimes he’ll pet your wings, but only if you let him

He loves how soft your feathers are

He doesn’t make that his entire perception of you

It’s a nice change of pace

He tries to cook for you sometimes, but uh. It doesn’t go well

You’re still confused as to how someone can set a glass of water on fire

You mostly just order take out

You hang out like normal people

Which neither of you are, but you’re both fine with that

Paranormal Investigator Mark is obsessed with figuring you out

Nearly had a panic attack when he first saw you

He wanted to prove the supernatural exists, but he didn’t have a lot of evidence before

And then your mystical-ass came along

Like the Jims, he tried to get pictures, and they all ended up blurry

He threw a fit over it, and you felt kinda bad

You tried to take the picture yourself but it came out the same

He gave up after a while

He info dumps about paranormal stuff to you

It can last from 5 minutes to 5 hours

You do pay attention though, and that makes him happy

He takes you on investigations sometimes

You don’t do much except break shit with those giant wings of yours

He stopped taking you on investigations

Cooliplier is not sure what to think

You have wings! Great! There’s absolutely nothing he can do about that

Not the most normal, but not the weirdest either

He tends to put on a tough-guy persona around new people

You were a lil intimidated

Then you became friends and mans did a full 180 around you

Went from “Your daughter calls me daddy too” to “I’ll have her home by 9 sir”

His personality is sort of a mix of the two

Catch you both screaming the lyrics to Mr. Brightside at 12:00 am

Took you to a mosh pit once

You got kicked out cause of the wings

He felt bad, but you had fun

He teaches you how to dance and roller skate

You also go for rides on his motorcycle

Once you just started flying while he was driving and it was the most fun shit ever

You’re “buds”, as he often tells you

Goopiplier likes you a lot

They like having another not-completely-human creature to talk to

I mean, some of the others aren’t exactly human…

But they’re not the best conversationalists…

Then again, neither is goop.

They mention the Dark Gods ONCE and suddenly no one wants to talk to them…

But you do!! Yay!!!

You mostly just hang out, do whatever

Watch movies, play games, or just talk

They like to draw you

They’re not very good, but you keep them all anyways

Sometimes they do… rituals. While you’re around

You are… a little scared, but that’s okay!

You have sleepovers and act like teenagers

You mock the others and then giggle, getting louder as you go

They’re not that funny, but you had to be there

Elder Jeremiah is terrified of you

He nearly pissed his pants when he saw you

He thought he was finally going to have to pay for his sins

He started crying, and you panicked

Why the FUCK was this 20-something-year-old well-dressed man crying at you???

He dropped his bike and fell to his fucking knees and begged for forgiveness

You felt very uncomfortable with the whole situation

You told him to get up bc he was dirtying up his pants

He eventually stopped crying and you told him you were not an angel

Also not a demon, as you said when he asked

He avoids you, mostly, still thinking you’re gonna drag him down to hell

He stopped the uh. The stealing since you came around

He will hang around/with you sometimes to see if you “reveal your true form”

You haven’t yet, and never will, BUT WHEN YOU DO, HE’LL BE THERE

He does think you’re very nice, though

Preistiplier thinks you’re an angel sent to assist him

He is doing holy work, it only makes sense that He would send a helper

He was disappointed, to say the least

He then came to the conclusion that you lost your memory of being an angel

You couldn’t exactly dispute it, since you don’t remember

So, he takes you on hunts

You don’t do much except make a bunch of fucking NOISE with your WINGS

He’d hoped you’d smite the demons

Or at least scare them, but they know you’re not an angel

He still takes you on hunts because, he’d never admit it, but he… gets scared

You promised not to tell a soul

You confess your sins to him sometimes

They’re usually not what he considers sins, but he listens anyways

He thinks you are a good person, and he enjoys conversations with you

Heistiplier was just normal around you

Well… as normal as he can be

You’d enjoy his company a lot more if he didn’t have such a god complex

You still like him a lot

He likes you too

Even if you did refuse to rob a bank with him

He’s a very… exciting person

Though you don’t really want to be around him when he gets upset

The entire world literally seems to revolve around what he does

He’s a drama queen, and completely feral

It’s worrying at times

You two are normal friends

Playing video games, watching youtube, etc. etc.

You listen to his stories and wonder how he's not dead yet

But you can admit, he's really fucking funny

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unremarkable-house · 3 years

Text

Dream Journal #2

this dream sucked.

ugh. this dream was a doozy, not because it was objectively horrible, but because it was so vivid, ended with me remembering my mother was dead, and was the last dream i had before i woke up, so the nasty vibe of it rolled over into my morning mood.

it started with me in a car with an acquaintance -- someone i can have a polite chat with when we pass each other at the market, but i’ve never hung out with her and i’m pretty sure we have nothing in common and actually i think she kinda sucks. i barely think about this person so what the heck is she doing in my dreams?? however, we are going to the mall! which is weird enough considering there isn’t a mall anywhere near where i live. but i guess since i have been online window shopping recently, my brain really wanted to go buy some new joggers in person?

we get to the nearby tourist town (where there is definitely no mall) and go the rest of the way by bike. as in, she’s pedaling and i’m hanging on for dear life in the back bc she is going really fast!!!! but right before we got on the bike, i clearly remember this moment where i toss my phone into her car and think, oh i don’t really need this!!! spoiler alert, i really, really did.

so ride the bike for a long time, going super fast, until we get to the mall, which is very, very far away from home. we go inside and are separated for a bit while i shop until i find her at the dressing rooms. and it’s right then that she decides to tell me that she isn’t here to shop, she’s here to work her seven hour shift. and i’m like what??? i thought we were shopping together slash wtf am i supposed to do here alone for seven hours while you work??? but she is completely indifferent. so dream me starts to get a bit fretful and angry.

and i’m like, fuck this, i don’t want to be here anymore, i don’t even like malls, i have no way to get home, and i’m mad that this chick totally misled me. and i’m extra pissed i don’t have my cell phone to call my husband for a ride. so i storm off to look for a payphone.

it takes forever to find one, but eventually i find a bank of strange looking payphones so i go give them a try. i have a moment of panic about not having any money, but luckily when i shake my pocket, there is just enough change!! okay! better make this count.

of course the payphones don’t work though. they are actually fake toy payphones. one is just broken and the other tells your fortune. i use up my change trying to make them work. and i’m getting very angry while this happens. especially because i take a moment to ask a mall employee for help and he keeps telling me, yes, these are the payphones!

the other problem is that i can’t remember my husband’s cell phone number and the only number i can remember is my parent’s home phone number. so i’m thinking, what the hell, i’ll just call my mom and she’ll call my husband or something. i think i was just desperate to call anyone bc i’m getting fucking sick of being at this mall and i’m feeling trapped and angry.

i leave the toy payphones to look for real payphones, weaving through this way-too-packed mall and asking anyone i can for help, but everyone ignores me. everyone. this just enrages me more. i probably start screaming at them bc i scream a lot in my nightmares.

eventually, i get to the entrance of the mall where there is an attached CVS, so i go in hoping that an employee will let me use their store phone, but the lights are off and the guys behind the counter eating snacks say the store is closed and they can’t help me. of course this just makes me even more mad! i need help! i just want to call my mom!! if i can call my mom, everything will be okay and we can figure out how to get me home!!! i’m completely freaking out at this moment, overwhelmed by how far from home i am and how no one will help me!!!

then my brain does this crazy snap-back thing where i’m retracing my route all the way back to the car and then all the way back to my parent’s house where i’m inside but it’s that eerie, super-still, golden hour moment where the dust motes are suspended in rays of light. i remember something is not right. the phone is ringing and it’s me on the other end trying to reach my mother. and it’s then that i remember she’s not there. she’s dead. she can’t pick up the phone and she can’t help me.

snap-back to me outside the mall where i’m standing in the middle of a throng of people as they exit the mall, overwhelmed by the realization that she’s gone, keening in my grief mixed with the already horrible, angry feeling of being trapped at this mall with no one to help me.

and then i wake up, with all of those emotions still raging in my heart.

#dream-me grieves way harder than awake-me #but my husband made me waffles for breakfast and that made me feel better #dream journal

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midshipmank · 4 years

Text

i wanted LWJ with a motorcycle & somehow ended up with this librarian!LWJ & art student!WWX au

LWJ is a librarian at a public library

WWX met LWJ when he returned some books 3 months late

LWJ looked at him all judgy like “these are 3 months late,” & WWX promptly became obsessed

WWX is now a much more responsible library user, mostly because he’s there all the time

but listen he’s not great at focusing in the library, that’s why he doesn’t even use the one on campus. so now he’s his usual amount of restless + distracted by LWJ

trying to figure out how to make a move

meanwhile LWJ is just like “do not throw crumpled pieces of paper through the air”

some of those crumpled pieces of paper are failed sketches of LWJ

one day WWX stays all the way to closing because LWJ PRETTY OKAY? also he has an art theory paper due pls don’t talk to him about it

so anyway he’s there when the library is closing & LWJ is like “leave”

so he goes :((( but he’s so late LWJ practically follows him out

which

is when WWX discovers that that pretty white & blue motorcycle that’s always parked out front?

that’s Lan Wangji’s

he absolutely loses his mind

all of his friends know about his ridiculous librarian crush by now & they all make fun of him for it

but anyway, the poor boy has it bad

he’s like “A-Cheng, you don’t understand, he could step on me & i’d thank him. actually i think i need him to step on me.”

JC is like “i did Not want to know that”

meanwhile WWX is bemoaning the fact that he ever became a responsible library user

“how am i supposed to interact with him. i can’t return books late anymore bc i’m always there! what would my excuse be? & he’s already explained how to use their database to me 3 times, i can’t keep looking this dumb”

JYL is very gently like “maybe just ask him out?”

“but he doesn’t like me! i committed library crimes! i have to get him to like me first!”

then WWX sees a flyer in the lobby asking for volunteers. there’s gonna be an event in the kids section! for some special reading day! who tf knows, WWX doesn’t care, the point is, he’s good with kids. that would probably be appealing to LWJ. right? right? WWX really doesn’t know. LWJ is so hard to read. on the one hand, he’s the most tight-laced & responsible person WWX has ever met. on the other, he has a very sexy motorcycle. WWX doesn’t know what to do with that

but okay he has a plan

he calls up WQ & goes “can i borrow A-Yuan”

he already babysits A-Yuan every week, so it’s not that weird right?

WQ is like “i stg WWX if you are going to use A-Yuan to attract hot guys like in that movie with the people who love dogs....”

& WWX is like “i would never use A-Yuan like a dog! WQ do you even know me!”

he gets A-Yuan, barely

anyway, he gets to the library ready to read to a bunch of kids & gets side-eyed by a lot of parents, but he still has fun!!

LWJ is, unfortunately, not the librarian supervising the event, but he is reshelving when WWX is off reading duty & A-Yuan gets the zoomies

ie, zooms right into LWJ’s legs

LWJ is, surprisingly, good with kids. WWX may need to marry him. he somehow manages not to make a complete fool of himself after this revelation

in fact, after this interaction, WWX thinks he may actually have scored some points with LWJ. he’s elated

he’s building all these elaborate future schemes in his head when suddenly he gets a call from Auntie Yu

she wants to know why his grade in his art theory class has plummeted.

oh right. that class. that class that’s taught by that professor who hates him & that he honestly can’t understand a word of & honestly he hates art theory, he’s good at art, why does he have to take theory too?

Auntie Yu lets him know in no uncertain terms that if he doesn’t improve his grades by the end of the semester, she will stop supporting him—it’s bad enough that they let him go to art school after he flunked out of his business degree anyway

so—fuck. fuck.

WWX throws himself into the redo paper he manages to beg off LQR. he has 3 days & he’s gonna make them count

the first day goes well, if by well you mean that he raids the art section of the library & works himself until closing & tries desperately not to look like he’s dying in front of LWJ

day 2 goes........similarly, except he falls asleep at his desk & doesn’t wake up until LWJ tells him the library is closing, which? wtf? LWJ usually wakes him up when he falls asleep in the library. WWX has been asleep for hours.

& also he looks like a wreck, which is not cute

he flees from the library only to find that the bus is going..... going......... gone

fuck. he doesn’t have a car.

he’s staring down the road after the bus, trying to figure out which friend with a car is available for him to call when he hears someone say “Wei Ying?” behind him

it’s Lan Zhan.

how mortifying.

he tries to laugh off his situation, but LWJ gets this set expression on his face & says, “i will give you a ride home”

& WWX is like kinda definitely freaking out because this was not how his first ride on LWJ’s sexy motorcycle was supposed to go. WWX had a plan. he was supposed to be flirtatious & ask LWJ about his bike & then LWJ would offer to give WWX a ride & they’d go all around the scenic parts of the city & when they stopped WWX would be all flustered & breathless & he’d wobble getting off the bike & maybe fall into LWJ & maybe—

okay so his plan was more like a daydream, but at the very least, he wasn’t supposed to look like he’d spent the last 48hrs out of the sun, drinking unhealthy amounts of shitty coffee, wearing a ratty hoodie & art-grimed jeans. like, they’re not even grimey in a cute way

but LWJ is insistent & WWX is weak, so somehow he ends up on the back of the bike wearing LWJ’s helmet with LWJ telling him to hold on tight

he’s half-convinced he’s fallen asleep on the bus stop bench & is dreaming the whole thing

but soon enough, it’s over & they’re stopped outside of WWX’s shitty student accommodations

he gets off & is trying to awkwardly thank LWJ when LWJ says, “you’ve seemed upset these past 2 days”

“ahaha, yeah, i’m just writing a paper”

“for an art theory class?”

WWX is like ????? but then he remembers that LWJ knows what books he checks out

“yeah. it’s a redo actually. professor Lan hates me.” he forces a laugh. why did he say that. being hated by a professor is not cute, especially not to sexy librarian LWJ.

“my uncle has high expectations,” LWJ says.

WWX brain short circuits.

“your uncle???” shit shit shit Lan Qiren is LWJ’s uncle! LWJ’s uncle hates him! he has no chance now!

“mn.”

WWX wants to die

LWJ looks considering, then says, “it is my day off tomorrow. if you would like, i can help you with the paper.”

WWX is already the least cute, most pathetic version of himself he’s ever been in his life. he says yes.

so they meet up at the library the next day & WWX apologizes profusely for making LWJ come into work when it’s his day off. he promises LWJ endless free coffee from the coffeeshop he works at (even if he has to pay for it himself—he doesn’t tell LWJ that part).

LWJ is way too nice to him & also manages to explain this school of art theory in a way that?? sort of?? makes sense?? though not in a way that makes WWX like it. but LWJ seems neutral about it, so at least he’s not trying to get WWX to agree with it.

but anyway, WWX manages to pull a passable paper together & in the process LWJ reveals that he’s noticed WWX sketching in the library a lot more than WWX realized, and that he likes WWX’s art.

WWX is lightheaded

he stares at LWJ for a while & LWJ looks at him & says, “Wei Ying. you should be typing.”

WWX gets the paper done by 5pm somehow. somehow! he sends it off to LQR with a groan of relief. he’s so tired his bones are aching, but he looks over at LWJ, art theory & citation king, who of course always looks perfect & beautiful, & goes, “i could kiss you.”

instead of “i don’t know how i’m ever going to thank you for this,” which is what he thought he was gonna say

LWJ’s eyes widen slightly & his ears go red. WWX wants to smack himself in the face. he wants to eat his words. he wants to crawl into a cramped dark place like a disgusting little mole & never see the sun again.

then LWJ says, “have dinner with me first.”

WWX gapes at him. LWJ looks back, ears still red but eyes steady.

“okay,” WWX squeaks.

they go to dinner. WWX still feels like trash, but they end up having a rousing discussion about art & WWX learns all about when LWJ studied art history in undergrad & how he actually doesn’t like the kind of theory his uncle teaches (“but you’re too good to ever tell him that,” WWX teases. “....most of the time.” WWX laughs in delight.)

LWJ reveals that he brought an extra helmet today, in case WWX needed a ride again. WWX is embarrassed & pleased & wants to marry LWJ again. feeling foolish, he leans into LWJ flirtatiously & suggests they go for a ride—just for the view. LWJ looks at him so long his knees turn to jelly. then LWJ says, “mn.”

they make out on some scenic ridge somewhere

the end!

other things about this au:

WWX does digital painting mostly, his ideal job is illustration/comics; he has a instagram/patreon he uses for art commissions (some of which are pornographic—LWJ catches him sketching in the library one day, early in this tableau. it does not go well.)

his instagram/patreon is mostly anonymous. it’s not that he minds people knowing he draws explicit stuff sometimes, it’s that he doesn’t want Auntie Yu to find out

he draws LWJ a lot

not explicitly

(at least not until he’s got a life model and LWJ’s consent)

he’s not at the library 24/7. he has a coffeeshop job, classes, studio time for non-digital art, A-Yuan, and friends. but he’s at the library a lot.

this is undergrad for WWX, but he’s non-trad. he flunked out of a soul-sucking business degree in his first go at undergrad & was on pretty shaky ground with the Jiang family for a while. then he sold some of his art & Auntie Yu said they would support him through art school if it was the only thing he was good at. kinda stung, but at least he doesn’t have to pay tuition.

he’s desperate to prove he can make it as an artist

when anyone asks LWJ about his bike, he says he got it because it allows him to weave around traffic. yes, there’s more to it than that, but no he won’t go into it. (this entire au formed because i found out WYB rides motorcycles professionally & went, “wow that’s hot.” we have no thoughts here.)

WWX did not have to try to make LWJ like him. LWJ liked him. & while WWX might not have gotten his ideal first bike ride, you better believe LWJ got his. he daydreams about scooping WWX onto his bike & riding off into the sunset

#posting as a bullet point fic bc while i wanna write it as a real oneshot i have other things i need to do & i think it works like this too #mdzs fic #mdzs #cql #wangxian #The Untamed #fanfic #my writing #idk what to tag it's literally been 4yrs since i posted fanfic here #my fanfic #author assumes art theory works similarly to lit theory in that some is great and some is bs #author clearly grew up in the les mis fandom #also has anyone read juliet takes a breath?

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inkatheart-fandom · 4 years

Text

Ranty Plot #001(B)

You can find Part 1 Here.

Modern AU where Geralt, Jaskier, and Yen are in a poly relationship. But what about the other characters? Well, prepare for Lambert’s piece of Modern AU.

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Lambert/Aiden

Tags: Emotional Constipation, Stubborn Boys, Friends to Lovers, Lambert is a Good Friend, Happy Ending, Some Homophobic Language (Aiden is an ass).

Geralt dropped out of High School his Jr. year. He was getting mediocre grades and had no desire to do much outside of school that he wasn't already doing. He was a simple man with simple pleasures. He liked working on the ranch and loved the horses and had 0 desire for higher education. Vesemir tried to encourage him to at least finish High School but it just wasn't gonna be.

Eskel graduated with a 3.9 GPA. He was on the water polo team and got a full-ride scholarship. However, he instead decided to go serve in the military after High School. Joined the Marines as a Linguist. Later became a part of MARSOC. He served for 8 years before he suffered a major injury. He was going to recover, but took the honorable medical discharge so he could return home.

LAMBERT. Lambert always struggled with school. As a kid he was never enrolled in school, so he missed out on Pre k-4th grade. He also had dyslexia, so by the time he did get enrolled he was way far behind and struggled hard.

Vesemir spent a lot of time trying to get Lambert the help he needed. Eskel helped whenever/wherever he could before he went away.

But during Lambert's Sophomore year he met Aiden who was a year ahead of him. Lambert hadn't made many friends outside of his brothers, and most other kids thought he was too loud/aggressive/mean looking. He and Aiden though, there was something there. They got to be thick as thieves lightning fast, but Lambert was the only one happy about it.

Aiden also came from a fucked up home, but unlike Lambert he didn't get some guardian angel to come rescue him. So there was quite a bit of jealousy there on Aiden's part, and he made sure to put Lambert down about it whenever he could.

Aiden and Lambert got into a lot of trouble together though. They were quick to jump into fights, started messing with drugs and alcohol, and by Aiden's Senior year he had been in and out of Juvie several times. But no amount of trying to convince Lambert was going to break his bond with his bestie. So all Vesemir and Geralt could do was watch and step in whenever they had the opportunity.

Shortly after Aiden turned 18, he ran away from home for good. He packed a bag and showed up on Vesemir's doorstep at 3am. He told Lambert to come with him, they were going to get the hell out of their shitty little podunk town and go make some names for themselves.

Lambert was beyond temped, and in reality he just wanted to keep his friend from getting in trouble. But he knew that he couldn't just leave behind his life and family here and he begged Aiden to stay. They could work something out with Vesemir, hell Lambert offered to drop out of school and get a job so they could split rent on an apartment together.

Aiden called Lambert a coward, mocked him for being soft for being a surrogate kid to some creepy old man. He said that he and Lambert were closer than Lambert and his 'fake family.' When none of his cajoling worked, he finally left with a few more scathing remarks.

Geralt had heard it all though, ready to step in and stop Lambert from making the biggest mistake he would ever make. Instead he was there to comfort his brother after having lost his best and only friend.

Lambert didn't hear from Aiden again for five years. He managed to barely graduate High School, but didn't go for anything beyond that. He was good at developing his own skills though.

He joined the police academy, figuring that if he could do anything he might as well try being a force for good. Unfortunately, due to problems with his temper and morally questionable choices at times, he never made it as a full fledged officer.

It was late one night when he got a call. The voice on the other end was familiar and alien all at the same time. Aiden was drunk and in pain. He'd been arrested several towns over, caught gambling. He was looking at some serious charges that involved him having some bad gambling debts, and didn't know what to do.

Lambert ended up driving all night to go bail Aiden out, but this man wasn't very recognizable from his old friend. Drugs and alcohol had made him a shell, and he was involved with some pretty bad people that had him in a constant state of paranoia.

Unsure of what to do, he just sat with his old friend in a hotel room and listened to him for hours.

So Lambert made a deal with Aiden. If Aiden cleaned himself up, no more drugs or alcohol, Lambert would clear all his debts. He wasn't entirely sure how, but he had some ideas. It took some effort, but Aiden agreed in the end.

Lambert had himself made into Aiden's temporary guardian (I forget the actual term, my brain's fried) so that Aiden couldn't discharge himself.

So over the next six months, while Aiden worked on getting clean, Lambert spent every waking moment working. Between working for Vesemir on the ranch, he used his Academy training and some help from Eskel's military knowledge, and started bounty hunting.

He was surprisingly good at it. Started making a name for himself. He scraped together the money needed to pay off Aiden's debts and some of the rehab. So when Aiden was finally cleared to leave, he was free from his old life.

Lambert wasn't sure what he was expecting. Aiden wasn't the type of person to shower someone with praise and affection or gratitude. He swore he would pay Lambert back somehow. Lambert didn't care about being paid back, he just didn't want to see Aiden fall back into old habits.

The next several years were a lot of push and pull. He and Aiden have a lot of ups and downs, but it didn't take long for Aiden to join him in bounty hunting. And they made a hell of a team together.

But of course, Aiden is always going to be Aiden. The debt that he thought Lambert held over him was always there, always sitting sour on the back of his tongue. So he saved what he could until one day he gave Lambert a check for the money Aiden thought he owed and said that he doesn't owe Lambert shit anymore.

Of course, two dumb boys being two dumb boys, it ends in one hell of a fight. A lot of things are said that can't be taken back and Lambert and Aiden walk away with deep wounds.

Lambert moves in with Eskel, goes back to working on the ranch, and Aiden disappears again.

Lambert finds Aiden trying to pack his shit and leave. He begs Aiden to stay, and Aiden falls back into his old habits of verbally lashing out. He starts digging that Lambert must be some kind of homo and wants to suck Aiden's dick like a chick. That Lambert really must be fucked in the head if he's that broken.

But Lambert has a nerve there, and Aiden knows it by now. Not only because he does have reluctant romantic and sexual attractions to his best friend but because Aiden starts taking stabs at Lambert's family. "Geralt's one of them too, shouldn't surprise me." It's at this point that Lambert kinda snaps.

Lambert socks Aiden right across the face and lays into him. Because maybe he is a fucking homo, and he's the stupidest motherfucker in the world for being in love with such a selfish prick. He never asked or expected Aiden to return any emotions, that's not how Aiden works, but fuck it all he's happy just being friends and not thinking about it.

So it's actually Lambert who ends up leaving. He goes off the grid for a few days, takes his bike and just fucks off into the ether for a while. By the time he gets back it's to an empty apartment. He argues with himself over what to do with the check, because he knows what Aiden is going to do. Everything they'd worked for will be gone.

In the end he cashes it and opens an account to store the money because he knows that, one day, Aiden is gonna need it. He never considers it his money, he's just holding onto it because Aiden is a danger to himself.

Another year or two passes. He gets not a single word from Aiden in all that time. For all he knows Aiden is dead in a shallow grave somewhere and it eats at him, but there's not shit all he can do about it.

Then one day he gets the call he's been dreading.

Aiden's in the hospital two states over. He was found during a bust of a local gang and was in bad shape. When they got ID on him, Lambert's name was the one that came up as the emergency contact. It was hard to say what would happen because Aiden was in bad shape.

So of course, Lambert withdraws all the money and a chunk of his own savings. He knows he's an idiot, thanks-you-Eskel. But his brother insists on joining him because Lambert shouldn't go in alone this time. And even he knows it.

Aiden's in rough shape. He'll live but it was damn close. But what he isn't expecting is the person there when he goes to see Aiden. He calls himself Aiden's partner, and it takes a while for Lambert to realize that the guy means a hunting partner.

Aiden had stayed straight. Instead of falling back on drugs and gambling he'd thrown himself into bounty hunting. He and his partner had gotten caught in an attempt at the gang boss and they'd grabbed Aiden.

Hurt that he'd been replaced, but also relieved to know that his friend hadn't gone back to his old habits, Lambert just uses the money to do what he can for Aiden's medical bills. Eskel is there with him the whole time but stays quiet for the most part, playing emotional support.

They're just about to leave when Aiden's partner asks why Lambert won't even go see Aiden. He's mad because Aiden won't shut up about Lambert, and is always comparing him to Lambert, and it's infuriating. So it's Eskel who nudges Lambert to at least go talk to his friend - which is the first time that's ever happened.

He's there when Aiden wakes up. They sit in silence for a long while and finally all Lambert asks is, "You want me to stay" and Aiden just says, "Yeah." And that's enough for Lambert, because that's the closest thing the other gets to verbal affection.

Aiden needs time to recover, and Lambert drags him back home with him and Eskel so the other can do just that. There's no more scathing remarks about Lambert's attraction, no more anger. It's a slow process to getting Aiden back on his feet, but the man doesn't immediately bolt so there's that at least.

Lambert doesn't prod or press. Aiden stays through his recovery, he joins Lambert on a few hunts, they go to the bar together. Aiden doesn't get anything more than two beers, he'll order them both and then tell the bartender to not give him any more no matter how much he asks. Lambert is proud and unreasonably happy about this.

Eskel's apartment is only two bedrooms, and after the first week of letting Aiden have his bed, Lambert complains about sleeping on the couch. Aiden doesn't say anything about Lambert sleeping in the bed with him. They keep to their respective sides, a total no-homo situation. Just two bros bunking together.

One month turns to two, then to three. Their friendship is calmer this time around. Aiden is...relaxed. Eskel's lease runs up and he talks about getting a bigger place. Instead, Lambert and Aiden decide to try again. They get another place together, two bedrooms. They use the second bedroom as an office.

Nine months in and hey, what's an adrenaline-fueled kiss between bro's. No-homo right?

Ten months, "The water bill is too high." "We don't pay for the water here." "...shut up and get in the shower with me dumbass."

And the rest is history.

#Rant Plot #My Writing #Witcher #Lambert #Aiden #Laiden #Eskel #Vesemir

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vamplu · 4 years

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Chapter 1:

“Sorry, I’m not interested. It’s clear to me you have plenty of loyal bitches already.”, the girl scoffed at the tall man trying to “pick her up”, “Besides you’re not my type at all.”. “Aw c’mon. Don’t be a tsundere~”, the man Chikage Rokujou said with a wink. “Yeah no, sorry. I have more important things to do than sit around with some womanizing scum.”, the girl shot back, “And also, let me know if any of these girls aren’t in high school.”. She began to walk away, heading to her job’s location, a maid cafe in Ikebukuro. She thought about how much men sucked, all the way from her father, to her “fiance”, to the random men on the streets. Her only safe haven was the maid cafe’s owner, an old woman who’d started it for fun, Amai Fukiro. All the girls called her “Grandma”, though. She was wise, kind, and well old. A perfect grandmother figure. The other girls, however, were jerks. As Hanako opened the door, she heard the bell ding, and the cheery call of her co-worker, a fellow high schooler, Sakura, “Afternoon, Hanako-San!”. “Please drop the ‘san’. I’m only a year older than you.”, Hanako replied, cringing. She was a third year at Raira Academy, being eighteen years old, and the younger girl always called her “Hanako-San”, which only added to Hanako’s stress about what would be happening when she graduated. A domestic life was the scariest thing about her future. She walked to the employee locker room, and changed into the maid costume, and walked back to Sakura. “We go on in three minutes, once the other guy’s shifts end.”, Sakura reminded. Hanako nodded, “You ready?”. Sakura nodded happily. Hanako cracked a small smile, “You’re adorable, y’know?”. Sakura’s cheeks tinted light pink, and she shook her head. Hanako returned her attention to the door that led into the main part of the cafe. Sudden;y, Sakura piped up with a question that startled Hanako. “A-are you… in the Dollars?”, she asked nervously. “That gang?”, Hanako asked, confused. “Yeah… just wondering.”. “I’m not.”. “Ah ok.”. “Why?”. “I just thought that y’know, someone as cool as you would be in something cool like the Dollars.”. Hanako laughed, “I’m not cool, and neither are the Dollars. Gangs aren’t cool. They may seem like it, but they really aren’t.”. “I know but still… being without rules or guidelines, or even a leader? They seem so… well, cool!”, Sakura gushed, and turned her face to Hanako. “Rules and guidelines keep the world functioning, leaders guide people away from mistakes in principle.”, Hanako replied, though she didn’t mean it. She hated all the rules she had to follow. “I know but still… chaos is kinda fun!”, Sakura giggled. “Chaos is not ‘kinda fun’. I can’t tell you what to or to not do but please, think about the effects before you take any leaps of faith and dive into anything remotely illegal. It ruins lives, you know.”, Hanako said, grabbing the girl’s hands and looking into her eyes, “You don’t want to wind up in jail, pregnant, or with a criminal record.”. “Pregnant? What part of the Dollars makes you think I’ll get knocked up?!!”, Sakura exclaimed. “Nothing… just something I saw earlier. My bad.”. Sakura blushed and looked down. Hanako released the girl’s pale wrists, “Anyways, please don’t do anything illegal.”. “I didn’t ever say I was going to join the Dollars, Hanako-San.”. “I can see in your eyes you’re thinking about it.”. “I forgot you can read me like an open book.”, Sakura giggled, “And I’m still thinking about it, nothing’s set in stone.”. Hanako nodded, and bit her lip. How much she wished she could be in the Dollars, free. She wanted to be like the Headless Rider, a free spirit that did what was good. She also wanted to bike like it did. She’d seen it once, for a moment, and her vision and dreams were captured, whether or not they could come true. Three girls came rushing in, and sighed, “Your turn. Good luck, it’s a riot out there. There’s a group of four with endless stomachs and two otakus. Some sort of party.”. “Thank you Rio, we’ll do our best.”, Sakura replied with a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”, Rio said, “Now get out there.”. Sakura and Hanako rushed out, and were greeted with various regulars, and a group of four people, in their late teens and early twenties, who sat by the window chatting away. “I can handle them if you can get the frequents.”, Hanako whispered, and Sakura nodded, looking relieved. Sakura was good with people older than her, not so much people her age. Hanako walked over with a smile painted onto her face, and asked sweetly, “Hello!~ My name is Hanako, and I’ll be your server today! What can I get you to drink?”. “I’ll have some of the cat coffee!”, a girl in a long black dress said, her hair covered for the most part by a black hat. “Alright!”. “I’ll have water.”, a level headed guy said, his slicked back black hair was under a black do-rag. “Mhm!~”. “I’ll have the green tea.”, a man with shoulder length brown hair said. Hanako nodded, and turned to the final customer, a boy with light brown hair. “I can’t pick between the sakura blossom tea, or the cat coffee…”, he said, “What would you get?”. “Well it depends. If I’m sleepy, sad, or angry, I’d get the cat coffee. I’d pick the sakura blossom tea if I was calm or relaxed.”, Hanako said, “The cat coffee is more chocolatey, and the Sakura Tea has a distinct tea-like taste.”. “Hmmm….”, the boy said, “I think I’ll go for the cat coffee, in that case. I want something sweet.”. “I’ll have those right out!”, Hanako smiled.

Finally out of that damn dress, Hanako thought, retrieving her cell phone from her pocket, and reading her messages, which only bored her further. She was supposed to go home after work, but she wanted to see the sakura trees in the park, as it was spring, and they were in full bloom. She hoped she’d get to see the Headless Rider, or something cool. Maybe then her mundane life would be a little more interesting. She was so sick of the same cycle she went through everyday. School, then work, the straight home for homework and studying. Sometimes she was able to watch TV, if she got done with all her assignments by 10, her curfew. Hanako knew she’d be in trouble when she got back home late, but she couldn’t care anymore. When was she not in trouble? At this point her father was more mad at her than not, and her mother was in America, like always, working at her fashion company. She had finally made it to the fountain, in the center of the park, to which she sat on. She pulled the book she’d been reading out of her bag, and silently read it. It was about “How to Live Life Like You Want”, another inspirational book her mother had given to her. She thought it was a sign from Mom, that maybe she should break out of the mundane, but had quickly written out the thought. Mother wanted her to marry Makoto just as much as her father did, for the same reasons too. Money, power, and title. The three things that fueled all of her parents decisions on her behalf. She’d be forced to forfeit free will for as long as she could remember. Makato was… nice, but when you’re forced to marry someone, you only see their flaws. He was quick to anger, and spoiled. He didn’t know suffering, and she supposed she didn’t either, but it doesn’t make her any less resentful of him. He was never yelled at, didn’t have to work for his good grades, and did horse-back riding. He was annoyingly perfect. Hanako hated him. She let the words of the chapter sink in, about making your own choices that benefit you. Wish it was that easy, she thought, Wish I could just leave and never look back. She shoveled the book back in her bag, and shook off her crazy ideas. She couldn’t leave. Not in a million years. She sent a text to her dad, a quick, “I’m ok and I’ll be home soon.”, text. She began her walk home, and paused for a moment when she saw two of her underclassmen, Anri Sonohara and Mikado Ryugamine, walking together, most likely heading home. She was slightly jealous of them, but nothing she had confirmed, or had been confirmed. She could tell by looking into their eyes that they lived a life that was anything besides normal. She looked away for a moment, and thought hard for a moment. I could run. I could make it. I could join the Dollars. I could look for the Headless Rider…, she thought, before again, shaking the thought away. She owed it to her parents to do what they wanted. They had given her a good life, and given her life to begin with, the least she could do was pay them back in doing their wishes. Besides, she couldn’t leave her younger sister, Asumi. Asumi loved the way they lived though, and wanted to marry Makoto instead of her older sister. Makoto was good with kids. Hell, he’d make a great dad. And a great husband. But he was to tame. He was too domesticated. Hanako didn’t want children or to be a housewife. She wanted to be free. Something she’d never felt. She was bound by chains of gratitude, and the feeling of owing her parents. She’d thought about the group of friends from earlier. Erika, Walker, Kyohei, and Saburo. She’d picked their names up from their conversations, which she’d been listening to as she waited on them. Sometimes, they included her, asking her questions or for her opinions. She wanted friends like them, a group of people she could trust with her life and secrets. Their smiles were genuine, their laughter full and bright. She felt her fingernails dig into her palms, and she pressed them harder, snapping herself out of her daydreaming. She let out a sigh and continued walking. Anri and Mikado were long gone, she couldn't even see them walking behind her. Friendship and… love, she thought sadly, Something I can’t have.

She made it home with no complications, which disappointed her, but what more did she expect? Her father went into his usual rant about her being late, told her that Stella, their housekeeper, would bring her dinner at her room because he needed the dining room for “work”. Hanako did as she was told, and sat herself at her desk, retrieving her red folder for homework, and began on her chemistry homework. Stella opened the door softly, and said, “Here’s your dinner, Hanako.”. “Thanks Stella.”. They were on a first name basis, as they had been for years. Stella was the daughter of one of her father’s workers' children, who couldn’t raise her, and asked him to take her in. She was Hanako’s closest thing to a friend, as they had grown up together basically. Only difference was that Stella was being paid to be a prisoner of the Ito family home. Stella placed the plate of food on her desk. “Hanako, something appears to be bothering you. You can talk to me, anytime.”, Stella said. “I’m fine Stella, really. Just a bit stressed from balancing work, school, and training. Nothing I can’t handle.”, Hanako replied, grabbing Stella’s hand in her own, “But some green tea might help, if you wouldn’t mind.”. “Of course.”, Stella replied, “I’d be glad to get you some tea. Is that all?”. “Yes ma’am, it is.”, Hanako said with a smile, releasing Stella’s hand. Being eighteen, a student, an heir to a multi-billion dollar company, and a full-time maid café worker made life… hectic. She enjoyed her job. More than anything, really. Little did she know, the customers from earlier were talking about her.

“Dotachin, don’t you think that girl from the café was really pretty? Her boobs were big too! She was a perfect dating sim character.”, Erika exclaimed. “For sure! She’d be the mature older sister type, right?”, Walker chirped. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. She was nice, boobs or not.”, Kyohei replied, “Don’t make comments like that about any woman or girl, got it?”. “Aww man! It’s just true statements though!”, Erika whined. “We don’t wanna seem like we don’t respect women, do we?”, Saburo said. Walker and Erika nodded, “We aren’t like that at all!”. Kyohei nodded at Saburo in thanks. “HeyHey! Dotachin, we should ask her if she wants to join us! She seemed so bored with her life!”, Erika exclaimed, “She seems super kick-assey too!”. “Yeah for sure! She seems so mysterious. She’s actually like a protagonist! Super bored with their life and looking for change! We could be the supporting characters of her story! I bet she has daddy issues too!”, Walker gushed. “Here we go again.”, Saburo groaned. “We can’t just walk up to her and ask if she wants to join our gang.”, Kyohei explained, “It’s a surefire way to get reported to the cops.”. “Aww man! I wanted another girl on our team…”, Erika mumbled. “I wanted a big sister type girl!”, Walker pouted. Kyohei sighed. Saburo laughed, “So you thought we were going to just ask her, and she would say yes?”. Erika and Walker looked at each other. “Joining a gang isn’t the kind of thing someone says yes too.”. “Well yeah but-”, Erika started, but was cut off by Kyohei, “Saburo's right. No one joins a gang because someone asks them too.”. “Unless there’s blackmail! Or threats!”, Walker exclaimed. “Right…”, Kyohei replied.

Hanako gripped the pencil in her hand harder, her eyes scanning the algebra questions, and answering them easily. “Simplify…”, she muttered, before furiously scribbling things down. Stella’s home brewed green tea always made her focused, most likely because of the caffeine. Stella had left a while ago, and Hanako missed the presence of her, as she acted as a big sister in a weird way. She was five years older than Hanako, and was wiser and less driven by emotions, not to say she was emotionless. She had a very logical view on life, and passed on her opinions with reserve and grace. She was dignified, and way more suited to be the Ito’s next chairman. Suddenly, her door burst open, and she heard the voice of her twelve year old sister, Asumi, who exclaimed, “Hana! I want you to paint my nails!”. “Asumi… I’m doing homework, maybe later.”. “No I want them done now~”, she whined, “I’ll pay you ten bucks!”. “I don’t need your money, Asumi.”. “Well I want you to paint my nails, so make it twenty.”. Asumi had no idea how much twenty dollars really was in her young mind. “Fine, if you insist.”, Hanako sighed. She was almost done anyway. “I’ll go get the color!”, Asumi cheered, looping her skinny arms around Hanako, burying her face into her breasts. “Ok, ok. I get it.”, Hanako said, rubbing the girl’s blonde hair. Asumi ran out, and was back two minutes later with a pearl pink color in her hands. She thrusted the bottle into Hanako’s outstretched hands, “Thank you Hanahanamura!”. “I told you to just call me Hana.”, Hanako sighed. “Okok fine!!”, Asumi giggled, “Do you have time to do my feet and my fingers?”. “A mani-pedi? Don’t you know dad would let you get your nails done any day of the week.”. “I know but it isn’t the same as when you do it Hana!”. The sentiment warmed Hanako’s heart, and she began painting her sister’s nails.

“Your twenty dollars, m’lady.”, Asumi giggled as she passed Hanako a crisp twenty dollar bill. “Thank you my peasant.”, Hanako teased. “Hey! I am at least a princess!”, Asumi cried out. “You sure are. Princess Asumi, Queen Athena, King Mirio and…”. “Princess Hanako! If I'm a princess you’re a princess!”. “Umm… ok, Princess Hanako.”. Hanako wasn’t the same as her sister, not at all. Her sister wasn’t a closed door rebellion, a secret disgrace. She didn’t hate her father, or Makoto. She wasn’t selfish. “Mhm!~ Princess Hana and her Prince Charming, Makoto!”. Asumi had said it as a joke, but Hanako cringed at that statement. “Yeahhhhhhhh.”. “Mhm!~”. Stella broke the awkward situation, “Ms. Asumi, it’s your curfew.”. Asumi pouted, and hugged Hanako goodbye. “Night Night Hana!”, she said softly, kissing Hanako’s pale cheek. Hanako wrapped her arms around Asumi, and kissed the crown of her head, “Goodnight Princess Asumi.”. Ausmi released Hanako, and bounded behind Stella, heading to her room. Hanako finished her homework, and took a shower. As the hot water ran down her body, she found herself singing. “I hope you know that I’m trying to build a life I can love. I hope I never stop dreaming, I need something I believe in.”, she sang, projecting her thoughts and feelings into the words she sang, “I dip this world in black and white, monochrome igniting. I'm gonna be a neon sign. Let the ship rest 'cause I'm lighting up the city. I don't ever wanna wake up wondering, where the youth have gone. Not gonna be another sell out zombie, wondering what went wrong. I'll never give in, I'll never back down, I'll never be another zombie in a life that's not my own.”. By the end of her “song”, she felt a little better, a little less confused. She stepped out of the warm shower, and dried herself off, putting on her pajamas, and laid down in bed. She decided to read, and picked up where she’d left off in the book her mother had given her. “Chapter Five.”, she read aloud, “Don’t Be a Slave to Obligation”. She was shocked by the chapter title. It was exactly what she was suffering from. She read more, engrossed by the chapter’s calling out of her lifestyle. A slave to obligation is what I am, she thought, but I don’t have to be, do I?. But of course she did, she had no choice. She shook off the thought, it was ridiculous. She had to stay. For her parents, for Asumi, for Stella. She looked out the window, at the city below her, a large and vast place of different people and different groups she could become a part of. AShe could create her own group if she really wanted to. Her mind flickered back to Kyohei and his group of unlikely friends, and their connection. A bond stronger than steel, that nothing can peirce, ever. She longed for that, and not in the negative way she was feeling currently towards her family. Her mind flickered to Sakura, who was thinking about joining the Dollars, to her anxiety around people her age. Hanako ran a brush through her brown hair, her chocolate eyes fixed on the small handheld device on her nightstand. I could sign up for the Dollars right now… it would be so easy. “No!”, she commanded herself, “No more stupid thoughts!”. She grabbed her phone, but not to join the Dollars, instead to text her mother. “I’m enjoying the book you sent me, it’s very eye opening! Thank you Mother!”, she typed, and sent. Her mother didn’t respond, which she expected, as it was eight A.M in New York, which meant her mother was working. Athena Ito had a strict work schedule, which included not taking breaks for texts or calls that weren’t directly related to Ito Fashion. Ito Tech and Ito Fashion… the company's her parents owned. She finished brushing her hair, placing both the phone and brush on the nightstand, plugging the phone in, and fell asleep quickly.

#durarara!!#ocfic #oc fiction #izaya orihara #shizou #chikage rokujou #anri sonohara #mikado ryugamine #masaomi kida #ikebukuro #maid cafe #durarara #daddy issues #celty #headless rider #dollars #toramaru

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