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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis is pining for Harry. We hope you’ll enjoy this list. We also have a mutual pining rec list here and we will have a pining Harry rec list eventually. Happy reading!

1) Down On Your Knees, You Don’t Look So Tall | Explicit | 3445 words

Louis and Harry are friends, and best ones at that. Louis loves Harry more fiercely more than he's ever loved anyone, so he doesn't really have a problem with it when they start doing this thing. this wonderful, wonderful thing.

2) You Had Me At Hello | Explicit | 4529 words

Louis works in the shop next to Harry's cupcake shop. Louis pines after Harry until he goes into a heat and Harry finally catches up.

3) Just Like Live Wires | Explicit | 5427 words

Harry climbs into Louis’ bed when he’s cold. Louis pines.

4) Something To Live For | Mature | 5535 words

After over a century of waiting for Harry to realize they're mates, Louis gets his heart broken when his friend announces he's found his 'one' in a human girl named Teresa. Wanting only happiness for Harry, Louis accepts that it just wasn't meant to be and decides it's time to let go of the immortal life.

5) Five Times Harry Styles Was Jealous | Mature | 6184 words

Harry's jealous all the time but there were five times that definitely stand out. Five times that changed Louis and Harry's relationship.

6) On My Mind All The Time, Say You're Mine | Explicit | 9261 words

“Dude, we’re inside, and it’s night time. Those don’t look as cool as you think they do.” Louis could kick himself, he sounded so stupid, but it certainly got the guy’s attention.

It was at that unfortunate moment that he noticed several other things about this hot asshole, that he hadn’t noticed just staring from afar. First, when Louis spoke to him, his gaze was kind of unfocused behind his sunglasses, and secondly, that he had a red and white cane folded up under his arm.

“I’m… Blind,” the man chuckled, awkwardly.

Louis wanted to melt into a puddle out of pure embarrassment.

“I— am so sorry. I have to go.”

“Hey, wait, wait,” the man soothed, grabbing at Louis’ shoulders before he could get away.

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, looking down at his shoes.

“It’s alright,” He cackled. “I get it a lot. More than you know.”

7) Let The Beating Waves Come Drag Me Down | Explicit | 9447 words

“Just try it, the worst thing that could ever happen it’s that you won’t like it” Niall had told him. And there he was, on the way to one of these pubs created for perverts, willing to break up the routine to try something new, something that terrified as much as excited him.

One night to get swept up in passion, one night to let the devil get in.

"Tonight, I’m going to make you scream of ecstasy Louis,” he said with a raspy voice full of control, making him tremble with anticipation.

8) Got It Right Such A Long Time Ago | Explicit | 9699

There are a lot of people Harry might expect to find on his doorstep at three o’clock in the afternoon these days.

It could be the delivery man, come to drop off the pair of boots Harry impulsively ordered online last week. It could be one of his neighbors, dropping by to complain about how a party he’d thrown weeks ago had clogged up the street. It could also be any number of his friends in L.A., who stop by unannounced most days to mooch off Harry’s food or whisk him away to try some new yogurt shop.

As a rule, it definitely cannot be Louis Tomlinson, although Harry’s blinked at least three times now, and it’s still Louis standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a duffel bag at his feet.

9) You Know What They Say | Explicit | 10232 words

Nice guys always finish last.

10) Call If You Need Me | Explicit | 10770 words

If anyone asks later on, Louis plans to tell them that it’s all Niall’s fault.

11) Love Is Like This; Not A Heartbeat, But A Moan | Explicit | 13150 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

12) Just Let Me | Mature | 14714 words

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

13) We’re the New Romantics | Explicit | 16054 words

Alternatively, a high school au where Louis pines and Harry is not who he seems to be. Featuring peanut butter banana milkshakes, motorcycles, and first times.

14) Wait For Me (To Come Home) | Explicit | 16066 words

A future fic of time stamps where Louis finally comes to grips with a love he'd denied for too long.

15) Deflower Me | Explicit | 20154 words

Louis is a proud virgin, and no matter how much society tries to make him feel like a freak for not acting on his natural urges, he doesn't suffer from his lack of experience. He has never felt drawn to someone in a way that made him want to get involved sexually with them, and he isn't planning on rushing himself so he can get some because people think it's what he should do.

In walks Fratboy, the Serial Haunter of His (wet) Dreams, who thankfully has a little business going on that might be just what Louis needs.

16) I Wanna Be More Than Friends | Not Rated | 20721 words

The one where Harry’s an alpha with no sense of smell, Louis’ an omega who isn’t allowed to scent his best friend, and that’s all they’ll ever be. Obviously.

17) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

18) Ours Are The Moments I Play In The Dark | Mature | 30830 words

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

19) If Ignorance Be Bliss | Mature | 30429 words

Uni AU: Harry is too experienced, and Louis just wants to get to experience him.

20) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words

The accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

21) Mark My Word (We Gon’ Be Alright) | Explicit | 35524 words

"He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that."

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39831 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) Eyes Off You I Explicit | 39396 words

A Charlie’s Angels inspired fic where Louis is the brains, Harry is the charm, Liam is the muscle, and Niall drives the getaway car - and Zayn is there, too. sometimes.

24) Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free (Nut Please Don't Bite) | Mature | 42074 words

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

"...Louis wanted him so badly. Wanted Harry to pick him up, bite him, and break him. Make Louis his, make Louis cry, make Louis a beautiful, plump, pregnant omega..."

25) Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Aches | Explicit | 46625 words

A Friends with Benefits AU, in which Louis falls in love and Harry is jealous. There is some Karaoke singing somewhere in there, because how do you write a romantic comedy without a Karaoke scene?

26) Underneath The Moon | Mature | 46927 words

In five years’ time, Louis would be the one saying to his students about how he knew the great Harry Styles, in a time before he had ever put out an album or performed on a real stage. Harry fucking Styles had been his best friend and he still loved him, he always would. But they couldn’t stay that way.

27) The Sidelines | Explicit | 47078 words

Note: There are mentions of Top Louis.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can’t stand one another, since they can’t keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other.

28) Waiting For The Tides To Meet | Explicit | 59873 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

29) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83615 words | Sequel

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

30) Inevitable | Explicit | 185917 words

AU where Louis and Harry used to be more than friends, but everything had to change the day Harry introduces Louis to his new girlfriend.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #pining louis #blp fic recs #blp

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satendou · 4 years

Text

⟼ distance

⍣ 365 days of sun series | next | 1/2

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime/reader/oikawa tooru

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: prequel to 365 days; oikawa goes to argentina, leaving you and iwaizumi behind

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: pre-relationship, cursing, fluff, mild angst

⇢ word count: 6757

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: a few things. 1) i did not particularly care for how correct the timeline is or how correct the actual offer, signing, etc happens. 2) the cut is a little weird bc i when i wrote this, i wrote as one fic but it turned out to be 18k words so...no. 3) i love this whole fic sm so i hope you guys do too!

“I’ve had an offer.”

Oikawa’s voice cut through the sound of your and Iwaizumi’s playful arguing and the sound of video game music that filled the room.

“That’s great news, Tooru!” you exclaimed, looking up at him leaned against the door. Your smile fell when you met his eyes, a pained mix of happy and uncertain. It was such a rare look that you couldn’t place any moment in recent memory that you had seen it.

“What?” you asked, setting the controller on the table. The sound playing from the TV cut out without warning, and Iwaizumi shifted on the couch beside you, leaning close enough that you could feel his warmth through your sweater. It was mid-winter in Tokyo and you had stayed home after classes were cancelled, choosing to hang out together rather than frolic in the snow. “Tooru?”

He bit his lip as he considered the news he had just been delivered. It was an actual dream come true, exactly what he had wanted all this time. But then why did it feel like someone had just punched him in the stomach? “The offer is for um, a team down in--” He sighed. “--in Argentina. It’s one of the top teams in the world, and they want me to be first string.”

“Oh.”

You said it at the same time as Iwaizumi, both staring at Oikawa’s pained expression.

“Then you need to take it,” Iwaizumi continued, his sharp words cutting through the tense air like a knife. He knew what Oikawa was thinking, what he was worried about, and couldn’t let him think no one would support him. He’d be lost without his best friend, but this was Oikawa’s chance at his dream. “And Argentina is far enough away that we won’t have to deal with you anymore. We deserve a break from your drama.”

You smacked him on the arm for that, but Oikawa chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan. I know you’ll actually really miss me, you adorable tsun. I’ll come back to visit, so don’t give away my room,” he said, and you were relieved to see his expression lighten. He kicked off from the door and plopped down on the couch beside you, slinging his arm around your shoulders. “And I know our dear _____ is going to be so lonely without me.”

You mimed throwing up into Iwaizumi’s lap. “Like hell. It’ll be so peaceful without you here. _____, my girlfriend broke up with me for the third time. Iwa-chan, why hasn’t she texted me back it’s been two minutes.”

“_____, can you bring me an ice pack? My dumbass overdid it again and my knee hurts,” Iwaizumi mocked, and Oikawa yelped in indignation.

“I do not sound like that or say those things,” he said, pulling his arm from your shoulders to cross them over his chest. There was a warm glow in his heart as the three of you bantered, stemming from the undying support the two of you had always given him in the pursuit of his dreams-- even if you were really mean to him while doing it. “Thank you, guys.”

You stopped laughing at him, both you and Iwaizumi turning to stare at him before you smiled. “You sap. Of course we’re going to support you no matter what! We’re gonna miss you, though. Like, bad,” you answered, and your throat tightened a little at the thought of him being halfway around the world. The three of you had been inseparable for years, even ending up attending the same college in Tokyo, though that had been because it had the best courses for the majors you and Iwaizumi wanted and Oikawa loved their volleyball team. It was a no brainer to get an apartment together when you found out you’d all been accepted either.

“Speak for yourself, _____. I’ll be glad when he’s gone. And don’t expect us to run all over the world chasing you, either,” Iwa said, picking up the controller off the table again and unmuting the TV. As soon as he unpaused the game, his character died. “Goddammit.”

“You really deserve this, Tooru. More than anyone,” you said, bumping against his shoulder.

Oikawa looked down at your face, eyes lit up with happiness as you smiled. He hid his face in the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a grin, warmth bubbling in his chest all over again. He was finally going to live his dream and he had the two people he loved most in the world at his back. He couldn’t imagine anything better than that.

So many words danced on his tongue, his thoughts a jumbled mess and he opened his mouth to let them spill out.

“Yeah, I guess I do, don’t I?” You groaned as Iwaizumi reached around you to smack the back of his head, and he snickered into your hair, his arms squeezing you into his side. “I love you guys.”

Picking up the controller, you let him cling to you like the monkey he was as you rejoined the game. “Yeah, sure, Shittykawa. We love you too.”

There was a lot of planning after he accepted the offer, outside of what the agency would take care of. He just had to find an apartment within his budget and they would take care of securing it for him before he arrived, and travel was taken care of.

Naturally, what was his responsibility became yours.

“Don’t you own anything besides basketball shorts and sweatpants?” you asked, holding up what had to be the sixtieth pair of shorts in the last thirty minutes. You were helping him pick out what clothes he was going to be taking to San Juan with him, leaving the rest in his room in Tokyo for when he visited. They all smelled like him, the light and breezy cologne he wore that seemed to stick to everything, including you.

You were struck by the realization that when he left, that smell would fade from everything, including you. And the idea that you would never be teased for smelling like Oikawa again caused your heart to clench.

Your face must have twisted because Oikawa’s happy babbling cut off.

“_____? What is it?” Setting the longsleeve t-shirt he held in his hands aside, he turned to fully face you while you turned fully away from him. He gripped your shoulders, trying to force you to turn to look at him, which you resisted at first. When he heard the light sniffling though, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Fast as lightning, you turned and threw your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. Without hesitation, he hauled you closer, rubbing your back as you cried into his neck. Between sobs you managed to choke out, “I’m gonna miss your stupid face so much. And what am I gonna do when the apartment stops smelling like your cheapass cologne? Am I gonna have to wear it?”

Your fingers twisted in the soft white t-shirt he wore. You hadn’t meant to cry, really you hadn’t, because you knew things like this would only make it harder for him to leave. And as much as you did want him to stay here with you, you also knew he would never be happy unless he was in the spotlight playing volleyball. But your tears soaked his shirt anyway as you tried to stifle your sniffling.

He burst into laughter at your childish whining, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

“Awe, I already knew that, princess. Everyone’s going to miss me,” he said, putting on that smug air that came so naturally. He was just trying to cheer you up though, and you could see through him like a window, laughing into his shoulder.

One hand curled into your hair, holding you close as he took in your warmth and your sadness. It was a mirror to his own, tempered by a cautious enthusiasm that his future-- and his dreams-- were about to take off. He was being selfish throughout all of this-- selfishly keeping you close while selfishly leaving you at the same time.

That warmth he always felt whenever you were close welled up again, and he smiled.

“I’ll miss you too, you know,” he whispered into your hair, and felt your arms slide back up around his neck, squeezing so tight he thought his breathing would stop. “You and Iwa, more than anyone.”

“Well, you’ll come back,” you whispered back, resting your cheek on his shoulder, facing away from his neck. “You’re like a parasite. We’ll never be rid of you.”

Oikawa’s shoulders shook underneath your head and you smiled.

“Help me pick apartments,” Oikawa demanded, folding himself into the empty seat beside Iwaizumi. He had his laptop in hand, a dozen or so tabs open to different apartments near the stadium his new team called home. He would be leaving in a few days to check them and the stadium out, and likely to sign the contract while he was down there. Truth be told, he was nervous.

“Don’t you have any manners, you damn brat?” Iwaizumi asked, even as he set his phone to the side. He’d been surfing through DoorDash, looking for something to get for dinner. You would be home from classes soon and no doubt starving. “I’m ordering dinner.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. _____ said she was going to stop and pick up something for us. I requested takoyaki, but she said she wasn’t feeling it,” Oikawa answered with a pout.

“Probably,” Iwaizumi said as Oikawa flipped to the first tab and he turned the screen to show him, “because she’s been doing labs with crustaceans in biology all week.”

It was a 3 bedroom, 2 bath with an open floor plan and a lot of windows. Newly refurbished and expensive. Not that Oikawa wouldn’t be able to afford it.

Iwaizumi shrugged. It wasn’t terrible, and definitely Oikawa’s style. He liked lots of natural light for his Instagram photos, and that apartment definitely provided.

“I should’ve waited for _____,” he grumbled, but flipped to the next one anyway.

Another 3 bedroom, 2 bath, smaller than the last and darker, in both light and color scheme, but no less expensive. Instantly Iwaizumi grunted and shook his head, and there was a small gratification as Oikawa instantly X’d out of the tab, letting it get lost in the void.

If there was one thing Oikawa valued above a volleyball player’s skills, it was your and Iwaizumi’s opinions. You knew him just as well as he knew himself, and better, in some ways. If Iwaizumi thought that apartment wasn’t good enough, then it wasn’t good enough.

The next few went much the same way. 3 bedroom, 2 bath, too dark or too small, too old-school or too extravagant. Each and every time Iwaizumi said no, Oikawa was secretly relieved to click the X button. A lot of the apartments he’d found weren’t to his taste, but he also knew his tastes were dramatic, hence the need for Iwaizumi’s down-to-earth opinions.

“Hey, I have a question,” Iwaizumi said when apartment number nine was bookmarked. It was a close contender with number one, the only other one he had agreed with. He knew Oikawa would never be happy living in a closed in, dark space. He was a lot like a plant.

A really mouthy, annoying plant. Like that tentacuwhatever from Harry Potter. Clingy and needed attention nonstop or else he’d cause trouble. What was he saying?

Oh right.

Oikawa paused his scrolling to look up at Iwaizumi, who had settled back into the couch, his arm slung across the back just above Oikawa’s shoulders. With his leg pressed to his, Oikawa was practically tucked into his side as they fought to both see the laptop screen.

��What’s that, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi leaned back in, his cheek right next to Oikawa’s. “Why are all these apartments three bedroom?”

In response, Oikawa spluttered. “Well, I mean, you know, it’s for if-- if friends want to come stay for a while or-- or you know. Geez, Iwa-chan, I do have those you know. And I’ll make more in Argentina. Might even replace you, if you aren’t careful.”

Iwaizumi’s arm curled tight around Oikawa’s neck then, his voice dangerously low as he growled, “No one will ever put up with you like I do, so good luck.”

Smirking, he pulled away and settled back down into the couch, picking his phone up again to see a text from you, asking if soba was alright for dinner. Typing his response, he said to Oikawa, “Soba is for dinner. And you may as well close out of the other tabs. I think the first one is the best one. Think we could come with you and pick out our rooms for ourselves?”

Oikawa choked.

The day of his permanent departure finally arrived.

To all three of you, it felt too quick and sudden, like you had blinked and the time had disappeared while your eyes were closed. All that morning, the three of you skirted around the topic as you dealt with the last minute details.

“Hey, you want this shirt right? You better--”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Oi, Shit-- Tooru, you’re forgetting these, dumbass, and I’m not mailing ‘em to you.”

As the time whittled down to nothing, you found yourselves standing in the living room, staring at each other. You had sworn up and down that you wouldn’t get sappy or cry or do anything to make it any harder on Oikawa than it already clearly was. But the tension in the air, the strange, manic sparkle in his eyes as he stared the two of you down broke whatever resolve you had and you threw yourself at him, tears welling in your eyes.

His fingers, previously wrapped around the handle of his suitcase, found their way into your hair, his other arm winding around you as the suitcase hit the floor with a clattering of plastic, squeezing you tight enough to force the air from your lungs. And yet it wasn’t close enough, one arm around his shoulders and the other around his back, pressing yourself even closer, until there wasn’t an ounce of space between you.

Against your will, the tears spilled over and wetted his shirt, but he paid it no mind, too lost in breathing in the smell of your shampoo and the feel of your warmth for close to the last time.

Behind you, Iwaizumi sighed, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, thankful that Oikawa’s eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the glittering in his own. Much as he might like to give his friend hell, he was going to miss him. A lot. More than he liked to admit.

Another set of arms came around you, completing the missing piece as you stood there and cried into Oikawa’s chest. You could feel tears in your hair and it only made you squeeze him tighter. The urge, the need to ask him to stay, just for another day, welled up so strong you had to bite your tongue to keep the words in. Truth be told, you weren’t sure if he would say no, but no way were you going to put him in that position.

“We’re gonna be late, Oikawa,” you whispered into his shirt and felt him nod against your head, but no one made a move to pull away.

It took all your willpower-- and a few elbows in a few ribs-- to pull away from them. Oikawa’s lips parted, his hands still reaching out for you, and you took one while Iwaizumi picked up his forgotten suitcase.

“Oi, Lazykawa,” he barked, “I’ll get this, you get your carry-on. _____, make sure he doesn’t get lost.”

At that, Oikawa gasped in mock outrage, placing his free hand over his heart and affecting a hurt tone. “How could you think so low of me, Iwa-chan? Do you think I’m so stupid?”

From the hallway, a very deadpan, “Yes,” rang out and you snorted in laughter.

“Really, Tooru, how could you not see that coming?” you asked while he picked up his bag. His fingers stayed laced with yours while you locked the door behind you. Doing it one handed was difficult and took longer than if you’d had your other hand, but neither of you were inclined to let go.

Iwaizumi was waiting impatiently outside the taxi, his foot tapping arrhythmically against the snowy pavement. His fingers were freezing and his eyes narrowed as he watched the two of you walk down the stairs hand in hand, both wearing sad smiles as you looked back at him.

“If you two take any longer he’s gonna miss his flight,” he snapped, holding the door open for both of you. His mood settled when you patted his cheek before sliding in beside Oikawa. It was a bit cramped with two 6’ tall athletes wedged into the tight space, but frankly there weren’t a lot of other places you’d rather be.

Now if only you weren’t stuck between them on your way to the airport to see one of them off to the other side of the freakin’ world.

The ride, in typical fashion when doing something you don’t want to do, took both too long and not enough time. You filled it with jokes and memories as each held one of your hands, mostly about what you thought San Juan would be like and of games he and Iwaizumi had played in while you cheered your heart out in the stands.

Their number one fanatic, they affectionately called you. A lot of your highschool career was spent with them just because there was so much jealousy among the other students that you were so close to them. You were grateful to them for so much you couldn’t even begin to list them all, but you could at least say number one on the list was loving you the way they did.

Oikawa was met at the airport by some diehard fans and his family, all teary eyed and clamoring for his attention, and you looked at Iwaizumi. He shared a resigned, grateful expression with you, glad you had said your goodbyes in the privacy of your apartment. There was no way you were going to get it here, surrounded the way he was.

While you stood on the outskirts, watching Oikawa smile and simper for everyone while making his way further inside, he looked back and his smile changed. From polite and sweet, it morphed into something genuine and deep, and even from a distance you could see the glitter in his eyes.

He laughed and said something, and the tone of the crowd changed, dispersing slowly until it was only his family left. Something was said to his mother, who was clinging to his hand with tears streaming down her cheeks, then he was making his way towards the two of you.

“I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to check in so I…” he said, but trailed off, scratching the back of his head. The words were stuck in his throat, too hard to say to the two of you. He could put on a show for the crowd all day, playing the part but as soon as he was placed in front of you, it was like someone had corked him. “I’m really gonna miss you guys. Who’s gonna cheer me on at games now?”

A sigh rode on the tail of the laugh that escaped you while Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, looking very much like he was going to kick Oikawa into the luggage carousel.

“Oh, I don’t know, you dumbass. Maybe the thousands of adoring fans you’re going to gain with your face plastered all over national television?” he asked, his fingers flexing with the restrained urge. It was muscle memory at this point, he couldn’t be blamed.

Oikawa’s face fell, though Iwaizumi’s voice held no bite and Oikawa wasn’t really upset. Setting his hand on his hip, he pointed at Iwaizumi. “It won’t be the same and you know it. You better watch every game. I’ll know if you haven’t.”

Iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “How are you gonna know, idiot?”

Oikawa’s arm snaked around your shoulder, still pointing to Iwaizumi as he tugged you into his side. The smile he wore was somehow both fake and so genuine it almost hurt to look at. “Well, our little _____ will tell me if you haven’t, won’t you?”

Before you could answer, the loudspeaker sounded, announcing his flight was ready for check-in, and all the humor left you in a breath.

“Tooru,” his mother called, beckoning towards him with her hands.

“Just a minute, mom,” he called over his shoulder, and his typically playful eyes were soft as he stared down at you. One hand took yours while the other met your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that had managed to escape without your notice. “I’ll call you when I land. And text you every day. And you better not let anyone take my room, I’ll need somewhere to sleep when I come back to visit. Lord knows I won’t be able to stay with them while I’m here.”

“Tooru,” his mother called again, sounding desperate now. You couldn’t blame her, Oikawa had spent an altogether longer time saying goodbye to you than he had with them since he’d arrived. Besides, the place his family held in line for him was moving forward rapidly-- as rapidly as the time you had left with him was shortening.

“You better not forget us, Tooru, or we’ll come down to Argentina and kick your ass,” you said, all three of you stumbling towards the line. He ducked under the rope, still holding your hand in a death grip, still unwilling to let go. “Or Haji will. I’ll keep a lookout so we don’t get arrested.”

At that, all three of you burst into laughter, the action causing the dam to break and then you were all crying too. In a split second decision Oikawa couldn’t explain, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, letting it linger there as he said, “I could never forget you. Either of you. My best friends and the people I love the most.”

“Love you too, Tooru. Give ‘em hell,” you whispered into his chest before pulling away.

“Go, before your family has a shit fit,” Iwaizumi said, pushing at his shoulder. But Oikawa’s hand covered his for a fraction of a second and squeezed with strength that only came with practicing serves for hours on end. Some unnamed emotion flitted in his eyes, but Iwaizumi nodded in understanding. “Come see us soon, alright?”

Oikawa’s throat tightened until all he could do was nod. With one last look at you, he turned and walked towards the front of the line, becoming obscured by the throngs of people.

An arm came around Iwaizumi’s waist and he instinctively curled his around your shoulders. He could feel the tears wetting his shoulder, where your face was pressed into his shirt. His own throat was sore as he held his tears back and he rubbed your arm as he fought to catch just one last glimpse of the last third of his trio.

But he was gone, off to the other side of the world and away from you. Some cynical part of Iwaizumi said he was gone forever, that in typical Oikawa fashion he would get down there and completely forget about the two of you. That wasn’t what the more rational side said, though. That side said he was being completely unfair to his friend, and he was inclined to agree with it more.

Leading you back out to the entrance, he hailed a taxi and helped you in, where you wrapped yourself around him again, causing him to laugh.

“It isn’t forever, you know,” he said, petting your hair. Of course, he would never tell you what he had been thinking just a few minutes ago. It wouldn’t help, even if it did turn out to be true. “We’ll see him again, probably a lot sooner than we’d like.”

As if to prove his point, both of your phones pinged with a new notification.

When you swiped them open, you found a message in the group chat that was so typical of Oikawa that Iwaizumi snorted before you both burst into laughter.

‘First class sucks without anyone to share it with. And the wine is bleh. I miss u guys :(‘

Each of you answered, Iwaizumi with a typical ‘you’re an idiot’ and you with an ‘i miss u too bby :’(‘.

You received one last text, telling you he had to shut his phone off and then you settled your head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder to stare out the window. The scenery passed by in a blur while you focused on Iwaizumi’s rough thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

After a few minutes, you hummed thoughtfully. “What should we get for dinner?”

“How does takoyaki sound?”

It was several months after Oikawa had left and both you and Iwaizumi were coming up on a small break from school. Since he’d left, Oikawa’s texts and calls had been spotty at best, though he made the effort to send a goodnight text into the group chat every night. When he’d first realized that he was failing in his promise, he’d apologized while telling you he would try harder.

Iwaizumi had shut that down real quick and you could imagine him tapping on his phone furiously during study period, wearing a scowl that would have had Oikawa cowering in the corner if he’d seen it.

‘Shut up, idiot. You’re training, right? Then train. We’re adults. We understand, right, _____?’

In your biology class, you had snuck a quick response. Even as adults, your teacher was a real bastard about using phones in class, and being caught could end in a pop quiz.

‘Yeah, you brat. Stop stretching yourself so thin or they’ll kick you out and you’ll have to come back to Japan and start all over,’ you typed, having to erase the word ‘home’ in favor of something less...that. Sometimes the way Oikawa talked, when your schedules lined up and you could talk on the phone properly, he sounded like all you’d have to do was ask and he’d be on the first plane out of San Juan. Even he still slipped up and called it home, often correcting himself afterwards as if to convince himself.

After that, he stopped apologizing, but he also stopped responding nearly as much. That didn’t stop you from using the group chat. You could see where Oikawa had read and reacted to certain messages and knew that even if he was busy, he was still there. And that in itself made the separation easier.

Two weeks before that break started, you received a long text in the group chat, both of your phones going off on the table. Only Iwaizumi picked his up, already knowing who it was from-- the chat had a special tone, so you knew whether to pick it up immediately or not.

‘Hey guys, I know this is sudden and a little short notice, but you have that break coming up, don’t you? I’m going to have my first game down here during that time so I was wondering if you’d want to come down and visit? Ik it’s only been a few months but you know how much i miss your stupid faces, and san juan is so pretty this time of year. I can pay for the tickets down here (obviously) and your rooms already have beds so you can stay with me! Isn’t that great? I have to go, but let me know!’

Iwaizumi stared at the text, a vein ticking in his forehead, while you read over his shoulder. It was clear Oikawa was excited at the prospect, but planning a trip like that in only two weeks was going to be hell.

“Does he even realize how full of himself he sounds?” Iwaizumi snapped, crossing his arms over his chest after you took his phone. “‘I can pay for the tickets’-- my ass. I’m gonna beat him senseless when we see him.”

“So…” you said, already typing away on his phone, “does that mean I should tell him to buy two tickets, since he’s so kindly offered?”

He caught sight of your smirk and followed it up with one of his own, belatedly realizing what he’d just said. “Well, since he can obviously afford it, may as well let him.”

You sent the text out without making any changes and Iwaizumi didn’t know if he should kiss you or smack you.

Oikawa was a lot more active in chat over the next couple of weeks, talking nonstop about how excited he was to see you. Iwaizumi was taking the blow up with more grace than you had ever imagined, and then you realized why.

“Haji, aren’t you excited to see Tooru? And I never thought I’d actually go to Argentina. I’m kinda nervous,” you teased one night over takeout and beers. A movie Iwaizumi had picked up while he bought snacks at the store played in the background, though it was so bad neither of you were really paying attention.

He looked up from his phone, where he was no doubt texting Oikawa, looking thoughtful. You expected a huff or a denial, but he surprised you-- a lot, actually.

“Yeah, I’m really excited. It’s been...too quiet without that brat around,” he said, and frowned. “I miss him.”

You set your fork in the takeout box, staring blankly at the TV while you processed that admission. Iwaizumi wasn’t much for talking about his feelings. He was very action oriented, as you and Oikawa knew too well, so to hear him say it meant something.

“I really miss him too, you know,” you murmured, playing with your fingers. It wasn’t something that bothered you too often, but Iwaizumi’s confession had brought it to the forefront of your thoughts and you allowed yourself to wallow just a little. “I can’t wait to see him.”

“I can’t either. I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I love you both,” he said, his ears heating up at the admission. It was only easy to say in the dark, when he could focus on his phone instead of the embarrassment the words brought. It wasn’t something he said very often, no matter how much he thought it.

You giggled, flicking a fry you had been about to eat at him. “You’re such a sap. Tooru really is rubbing off on you, Haji.”

Throwing it back at you, he playfully snapped, “Don’t compare me to Shittykawa, _____. I’m nothing like him.”

“You’re right. You’re much smarter than he is,” you replied, chucking the fry back into the top part of your takeout box.

It felt so good to just relax and hang out with Iwaizumi. Your schedules had both been so packed with classes and work, and even when one was free the other rarely was, that you hadn’t had a spare moment with him in weeks. It was the first night that you had free since Oikawa first invited you down and, though you had been flooded with requests to go out to bars or clubs, you just wanted to stay in. Expecting to be alone that night too, you were pleasantly surprised when Iwa had shown up with two takeout boxes and a six pack of beer. It felt like all the tension you had been carrying over the last few weeks had dissipated and that things were normal.

Shitty movies, shitty beer, and Iwa. All you really needed was Oikawa, and you would have him in a few days.

Your heart fluttered in your stomach, your chest tightening at the thought of seeing him again. It felt like years had passed since he left, between your hectic schedules and sporadic texts. More than once you had come home exhausted and wanting to just go to bed, maybe cry a little from the stress, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of something missing. The little negative voice in the back of your head would nag as you laid awake, staring at your ceiling, hoping your phone would light up or Iwa would walk through the door and fill the silence of the apartment.

It was nights like that that made you wonder if everything you were doing was worth it, if you were somehow losing Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and the doubt hurt more than anything else. It was a constant tug-of-war with yourself; you knew that eventually you would have to let them go, but only when you were good and ready, and ready you most certainly were not.

There was hope that this trip would help ease some of your doubt and fears, that seeing Oikawa in his element might prove to you that everything the three of you had accomplished made all the long days and sleepless nights worth something. But there was a part of you that was nervous that going down there would prove that the gap you were afraid of truly existed, and then what would you do?

“You know,” Iwaizumi said carefully, watching your face. “I really needed this. I’ve missed you too.”

He didn’t know what you were thinking exactly, but he could see you were well in your own head and that the thoughts weren’t pleasant. The both of you had been under a lot of pressure lately, with finals and jobs and projects over the last few months, and he could tell it was getting to you. Besides that, he had missed you fiercely in the interim, often coming home to find you already asleep or still out. Sometimes you had left him something to eat but other times he was the one leaving you food. Little sticky notes adorned the fridge with thank you’s and other endearing notes to each other as well, reminding each of you that you weren’t alone.

He looked forward to those and the passing moments he could see you in the morning before classes or work. It was the only time you had, sipping coffee as you chatted about meaningless things before rushing around to get ready because you had wasted too much time talking, but you would do it again the next time anyway.

“Same,” you said, smiling. There was an odd feeling in your chest, like you had drank too much coffee, your heart racing far too fast for your liking.

Iwa quirked a brow at the strange look on your face, like an amused grimace, and laughed when you poked your lip out. You glanced at him and the look morphed to one of happiness, and he rolled his eyes. “Come here, stupid. Let’s put Netflix on and watch Wipeout or something.”

He grunted at the impact of you launching yourself at his chest. The couch bounced as you cackled, squirming around until you could lean back his side and he pushed at your head in response, scowling.

“What’s wrong, Iwa?” you asked as you made yourself comfortable, pulling his arm down around your shoulders in a familiar manner. Tilting your head back, you continued to grin maniacally at him. “You seem annoyed.”

“Yeah, that’s because I have a bratty ass roommate who seems intent on aggravating me. Thought I’d seen the end of it when Shittykawa left,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips turned up, a soft look in his eyes as he scowled. “Guess not.”

He flipped through the Netflix menu, looking for something to watch. They had removed Wipeout, but the search menu pulled up similar titles, and you pointed at the third one down.

“Guess not. What’s ‘The Floor Is Lava’? It looks similar,” you said, and he clicked into it. It was close enough so he hit play. “Anyway what’s new with you? What about that girl from your uh...chemistry class…?”

He had mentioned her a few times in the morning when you were supposed to be getting ready, but her name escaped you. Talking about her brought that same strange feeling back into your chest, and you squinted as you tried to recognize it. It was familiar somehow but foreign too, like you had experienced it before but it was so long ago you had forgotten.

“Oh,” he said, and shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah it-- eh. I didn’t have time to spare and we kinda drifted apart.”

He didn’t tell you that most of the free time he did have was spent with you. At first he had been really into her, but as his schedule became more packed and he spent less time at home, he had had to make a choice. It was one he wasn’t even aware of making until she had pointed it out to him.

“I know she’s your best friend and all, but you spend more time with her than me!” she had griped one evening over video chat. It was the only time he really saw her anymore, and he squirmed at her accusation. It wasn’t incorrect and it left him feeling guilty because it wasn’t fair to her. When he didn’t answer, she scoffed. “Maybe you should date her instead, since you’re so up her ass!”

She had hung up and he had mulled it over for days afterwards, when he couldn’t push it from his mind. It felt wrong to consider you in that way, like he was doing something dirty, and the next time he saw you he felt almost sleazy. Her words flooded his brain again, causing his face to flush, turning away to continue fixing your coffees. It was a while before he felt settled again after that, his heart picking up speed every time your name flashed on his phone-- because of course he didn’t see you for days after that.

He had to tell himself it was normal to want to spend time at home with you rather than go out to bars or crowded restaurants after spending days on end coming in late from classes and work. Because it was normal right? To want to be with you in the comfort of the apartment than out with anyone else?

The tightness in your chest eased at his words, and you giggled, fiddling with his fingers. “Guess that explains why you’re here with me instead of out with her, huh? Kinda sucks, being so busy. We have no free time to do anything.”

Iwa nodded, pinching one of your fingers between his and squeezing, listening to you squeal playfully. It felt good to be spending time with you in a way he never felt with anyone else and he tried not to overthink it. “Yeah, but in a few days we’ll be responsibility free.”

“True. I can’t wait. ‘M gonna shut my phone off and let everyone assume I’m dead,” you said as you picked up your phone to scroll through your Insta. Oikawa had posted a new photo just before he went to bed of him mid-set to one of his team members, his tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrated. It was gorgeous, his skin much tanner than he had been while living in Japan and he was so pretty it almost hurt. You clicked the heart beneath it, one of the thousands already there.

Part of you expected to be introduced to a new girlfriend when you arrived, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Picturing an unknown woman hanging around made you grimace, and you were gonna murder him if he did that.

Iwaizumi laughed, patting your hand. “Let’s not do that or they might send someone after us, and I for one don’t feel like being chased through the streets of San Juan by Matsukawa and Hanamaki.”

“Yikes, you’re right,” you said, turning your attention from your phone to the TV, where a trio of people were currently navigating what appeared to be a bedroom. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by the sound of the TV and you passed the rest of the night that way.

⇥ masterlist

⍣ 365 days of sun series | next

#iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader x oikawa #.distance

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ererokii · 4 years

Note

hi!! can i request an uraraka x fem!reader where reader suppresses her crush on uraraka because of her crush on midoriya and doesnt want to get in the way of a potential relationship, but then uraraka realizes her crush was a serious case of comphet and starts crushing on the reader? and they start the whole song and dance of "oh! she baked me heart-shaped cookies with a note professing her undying love to me?? she must see me as a friend :)" until one of them properly confesses to the other?

Hi anon! I’m sorry that this took so long, i got caught up with my other fics, hope you enjoy <3

You couldn’t help but nod and smile as Ochako went on about how good and cute Izuku was. You didn’t mind it, but there was a small problem.

You had the biggest crush on Ochako Uraraka for years now. You suspected she had feelings for the green-haired boy since your first year at UA. It was obvious, anyone could see it. The way her cheeks darkened as she got more giddy and upbeat whenever he was around.

“I don’t know if he likes me though! Y/N, what should I do?!”

Startled, you jumped up at the sound of your name and looked in her direction. “O-oh! I’m sure he likes you too! B-Both of you would make a cute couple in my opinion!”

You sent her another fake smile. On the outside, it looked like a girl supporting her friend. On the inside, you were breaking and wanting to break down at any moment now.

“Y/N you really think so? Hey...why are you tearing up?” Her tone grew worrisome as it lowered, her hand reaching out to be placed on your shoulder.

“Nothing!” You snapped and stood up abruptly off the bench. “I’m fine!”

Heads turned in the direction of you two, eyeing the scene that was now unfolding in front of them.

You felt a tear dribble down your face as you clenched your teeth, feeling your nails dig into the palm of your sweaty hand.

“Are..are you sure?”

You meekly nodded and turned on your heel, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Just go ask Midoryia already. Both of you look great together.”

She was taken aback at the sudden movement of your body running away from her, making your way to leave the cafeteria as your figure grew smaller and smaller with each step you took to get away.

Why were you acting this way? Was it something she did? Did she offend you?

A pair of heavy footsteps grew louder and louder till they stopped right behind her.

“What did you do this time? You make her cry like an idiot” Bakugou’s voices boomed from behind, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants.

“I didn’t do anything” she whispered breathlessly. “She just ran off when I was talking about Midoryia.”

Bakugou laughed and shook his head. “Oh man, that’s fucking funny!” He stopped laughing and walked around to face her.

“Do you even like the damn nerd? Or you just think you do?”

She did like Izuku. She showed her interest in him more than one time. She had to like him. She did like him.

Then why did she feel so uneasy saying it out loud?

“I..” she trailed off and gripped the skirt of her uniform. “I don’t know”

“Hah?! What do you mean you don’t know?! It’s not that fucking hard! Well whatever that’s your shit, not mine, least someone else likes you.”

“Who?”

“Think and you’ll find out pink cheeks,” and with that he walked off, leaving her to be alone with her thoughts.

Was it you? Did you like her?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Since her talk with Bakugou, she couldn’t help but stay stuck on what he said.

“Or just think you do” she mumbled, recalling his words as she placed her hands on the bathroom counter, leaning forward as she stared into her reflection.

Izuku was cute. Izuku was intelligent. Izuku was caring. Izuku was selfless. Izuku was strong.

She could think about his qualities but couldn’t bring herself to fully say she liked him, that’s if she even did.

Her mind wandered off to you.

You were beautiful, strong, amazing, intelligent.

At the thought of you she let out a happy sigh, eyes lidded as her mouth tugged up in a smile.

More than one time your smile greeted her in the morning. The sweet sound of your soft voice filling her ears when you would whisper good morning. The time it snowed and you were shivering, your nose red as you wore a cute beanie that made her think that you were the cutest thing on the planet.

Her eyes snapped open as she stared into the mirror, her cheeks flushed. One of her hands touched her face as she sucked in a breath.

“Y/N, ” she whispered softly.

She was lying to herself the whole time. She never said she liked Izuku. When the girls would tease her about her so-called crush she would just laugh it off and never think about it.

It was you.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

In class she spotted you sitting in your chair, your legs swinging underneath the desk as you stared outside the window, mindlessly.

“Y/N!” She called out then covered her mouth quickly. You looked over at her, head tilting sideways in confusion. “Hi, Ochako!”

She gulped and rubbed the back of her head. “Your hair is...it looks very pretty today!”

You touched your hair and played with a piece in between your fingers. “You think so?”

“I know so!”

“Oh well thank you then.”

She nodded profusely and sat in her chair abruptly, hands clasped together on top of her desk as they twitched ever so faintly.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision and chuckled. “Nervous about something?”

“You can say that!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“No, I’m sure these have to work right?! She loves cookies!”

It’s been weeks since Ochako figured out that her feelings for Midoryia were fake. When she found out, the next day she ran up to him and told him how she felt, to which he panicked and begged her to stop yelling.

“Are you sure Uraraka?! Maybe Y/N would appreciate it if you just straight up told her!” Midoryia quickly wrapped the box with a red ribbon on top, placing it back on the table.

“Cookies are a nice gesture! I read it online! They gotta work!”

“Y-Yeah but,” he stuttered and backed off, fixing his school tie. “Can’t you just say it then give her the box instead of leaving the note?! What if she gets the wrong idea?!”

“Pfft please, she won’t! She’s a smart girl”

With her tongue sticking out, she finished writing the note. Putting the pen cap back on she placed her hands on her hips, standing proud at her hard work. “There! It’s perfect!”

As she slipped the note behind the ribbon she stared down at it. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Course she does! Everyone can see it, even Todoroki can!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

He held his hands up in defense. “I don’t know! Shouldn’t you go give them to her now?!”

“Give them to who?”

With a shriek, Midoryia jumped up. “Okay, I gotta go bye! Hi Y/LN! Okay bye!”

You stepped aside as you watched him run out of the room, noticing his odd behavior. “Is Deku okay? That was a bit out of the ordinary, even for him.”

“Yeah, he’s totally okay!” She grabbed the box of cookies and held them to her chest. “Um..these are for you!” With a push, she shoved the box into your chest. “Okay see you later now! Bye Y/N!”

Her footsteps grew quieter and quieter. You stared down at the box and noticed a white piece of paper. You pulled it out and read the writing.

I want us to get closer. You’re really cute

- Ochako <3

“Oh. That’s cute of her,” you picked up a cookie and held it to your mouth, biting onto it as you walked out of the room, humming softly as you enjoyed your cookie.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“I’ve given her cookies, flowers, and even small drawings! She hasn’t said anything! I don’t think she likes me after all Deku!”

Ochako paced the common room, hands tangled in her hair in stress, muttering things underneath her breath.

“That’s not true!” Midoryia shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe she’s not ready for a relationship! Maybe she’s nervous?”

Ochako stopped pacing around and let her shoulders sag, looking down at her slippers. “Yeah..that’s probably it”

“So don’t beat yourself over it! Just give her time”

“Guess you’re right again huh?”

A startled noise made both of them lookup. You dropped your bottle of water as you were now cleaning up the mess.

“S-Sorry!” You squeaked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

Midoryia jabbed his elbow into Ochako’s side and motioned towards your body as if telling her to go help.

She cleared her throat and approached your form. “You get more paper towels, I’ll help”

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you stood up. “Thank you Ochako”

Midoryia sent her a thumbs up before running up the stairs quickly to his dorm, taking the steps by twos.

Both of you fell into a peaceful silence as you cleaned the mess. Your head fell forward as your hair covered your face.

“There is something I want to tell you Ochako”

“O-Okay, go ahead” she bit her lip and sat back on her knees.

“I know..I know that you like Deku. And it’s okay. He’s cute and smart, I can see why you do. But um...I like you. A lot actually. I’ve liked you since the beginning of our second year. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin your potential relationship with him.”

Her body tensed up, eyes bulging out as her mouth was parted, looking like a fish gasping for water. “You like me?”

“Yeah, I kinda just said that right now..”

She cried out and wrapped her arms around you, tackling you to the floor. “Why didn’t you say anything?! What about the cookies and the flowers?!”

“I thought those were friendly gestures!!”

She shook her head quickly. “No!! It was meant for me to let you know how I felt!!”

“Why didn’t you just say it out front?!”

“I panicked! Why didn’t you?!”

“I thought you liked Deku!” You laughed, covering your face.

Her laughter soon joined yours as she cradled your face in her hands, leaning her forehead on yours. “Guess we’re both idiots huh?”

“Yeah I guess so,” you said lowly and grabbed her hand, fingers interlocking together. “Will you be my idiot?”

“As long as I get to kiss you and call you my little idiot.”

“That’s all I ever wanted.”

#bnhabookclub #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #uraraka x reader #request #ochako uraraka x reader #fic #my fic #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Hobbit Soulmate Pt 43

4.28 million, check in hand Richard was on his way to the bank and certain of what to do the cash was split, deposited with the rest used to pay off the remainder of the funds owed on the new home. A small portion and mostly repaid soon enough by the funds wired to his account from the couple who bought his old home. All those memories of Tiffany and years alone struggling between parts now replaced by hope imbued into the walls of the new home that you would build a family inside of. No matter how the year was split between your homes and trips to the ranch he knew your children would not want for any affections or adoration and soon have a cousin to one day play with.

He had to be careful though as daydreams would often lead to his smiling return from work already hearing echoes of the future babies rushing to greet him while you hummed making some intriguing mixture for the meal you and your youngest still propped on your hip we’re whipping up one handed for him. Daydreams were always bittersweet but precious all the same while he felt lighter than he had in decades. He wanted to be there for your show, knowing how hard Chicago had been on you, yet thankfully before Kong this was just a single show that he would be able to purchase a copy of to keep and watch at his leisure, one day with those same one day to not be imaginary babies.

They would beam with pride seeing how he adored you and the success and strength you had in just your little finger using your resolute love as their example. So very much how he saw his own parents, a love he’d never dreamed capable of possessing and passing down to his babies. You would get there, if not for the patience of the ficklest of mistresses, time. For now he had his dreams of you, one in particular of the first night you would share in his bed inside your new bedroom. One he’d share with only you upon your arrival. Not even a diary he’d entrust with the sweetest of murmurs he’d trace through your hair while you slept. Secured by the gentlest of kisses to your cheek and temple until they were broken by that beloved groggy smirk and turn over to foil the last half of his ocean of endearments and proclamations of his undying love he’d yet to bestow upon you.

Sharp and loud a shriek had left your lips and behind the door you’d just closed the delivery man turned around and knocked on your door again, “You okay Miss?”

Opening the door you smiled hastily replying, “Yes, sorry. News from work.”

“You’re not laid off are you?” He asked on a pained tone.

“No, paycheck I’ve been waiting on.”

“Oh that’s a relief,” he sighed out, “Been the bearer of bad news all week.” Retreating again to head back down to his waiting car.

Your neighbor opened the door poking his head out with spoon in mouth from his bowl of cereal making you say, “Sorry, paycheck.”

With his mouth half full he replied, “Oh that’s good, got a child support summons last week myself. Don’t know who Charles A. Sullivan is but he owes 67 grand in back child support.” Inside he went to your chuckle filled mutual retreat back to your apartments.

From his own doorway your dad leaned out smirking as you anxiously smiled waving the pages, “Got paid,”

Out he stepped to accept the papers he knew you were going to try to give him and his eyes flinched wider seeing the figure on the page. “This says 4.28, million, dollars.” His eyes flinched up to yours again, “This is from Bard?”

You nodded, “That’s my cut of the box office. Yours is behind mine.”

He turned the page and exhaled having to sit on the stool behind him eyeing the $3 million check he’d gotten from his smaller albeit hefty percentage as one of the main stars of the film not expected to do much as far as earnings went. “I have, I can’t have this much money, I had, what, five lines.”

You shrugged saying, “They didn’t expect much or we might not have gotten that much. Now you can retire,” you squeaked out anxiously still trying to remain calm leaning back against the wall across from him half in the kitchen you’d been prepping breakfast before the fated knock.

Curtly he chortled and rumbled back, “Damn right I could.” Long and slow he let out a breath saying, “I certainly could.” Quietly you got back to making the meal that you shared and then made another trip to the bank. The same tellers were much happier to see you both again, a moment the manager there was a bit taken aback by the amount on the checks from the same film company from before. A fact that stirred up a conversation between them in your leaving on how actors might actually get paid after you’d shared most of your roles didn’t pay till they were out of theaters and it could be a huge gap between filming and its release. All of which making them a bit more grateful for their stable paychecks and slightly dull jobs to being big movie stars.

It was beyond odd to be heading back to ballet rehearsals. With hair wound back in a braided curl happy bun at the loss of half of your bobby pins somehow and in a halter style leotard underneath knee length sweats you pulled a flannel and your leather jacket on over it shouldering your bag to head out for your unusual trip to the elite ballet company. Mingled through the crowds quite easily the trip was managed and all the way up to and inside the front doors you held your cool facade. But once those doors shut the aloof grin on your face stiffened to a stoic expression under the weight of the many staring eyes in the building of Grecian statues of men and waifs galore with feet stuck awkwardly out like geese in between. All whom watched your tiny out of place self strolling right through the gaps between their groups to follow the directions your Professor had given you.

From the lift however the mood didn’t change. And right at home you found your way into the designated room strolling right to the wall of cubbies. There jacket, flannel and converse were folded inside with socks next rolled up containing your subtly removed engagement ring that you shoved inside your bag’s hidden inner pocket you’d added yourself for all your expensive things in case someone got nosy while you worked. Your new ballet slippers were pulled out and once the bag was added to the stack in the cubby to the bars you went to pretend you had to already been warming up at home to keep your mind distracted until the others arrived.

They certainly weren’t yelling. But when the crowds did start to arrive the Director commented and watched while you chatted with five of your former dance classmates from Julliard and one from Oxford. Back at the bars to fill the main ballet cast around the mainly vocal and acting supporting cast members in the sea of silently stretching and gossiping extras waiting to hear their first assigned steps for the opening number. You could all hear one say, “I can’t believe she permed her hair before coming here. I’m gonna make that girl sweat out those curls.”

The bile in their voice caught by more than just you and turned more than half of the heads in the room of dancers, mainly those of the dancers of color, who took up at least half of the cast with similar curly hair or even tighter curls than yours, to see which Director to avoid speaking to unless necessary. Behind him however Mr Tarl strolled past him saying, “Good luck with that those are her natural curls dickhead.”

Into the room he came while the Director scoffed and said he’d be back later leaving his partner that was wide eyed catching all the cast glaring at the leaving man’s back. “Alrighty, I see we’re all here so let’s get right into it.” He said and waved you forward, “Ariel and Flounder.” Nodding in your pop up onto your feet across the room you hurried to the young teen’s side to hear your intro while those playing your on stage relatives and Sebastian gathered next to hear theirs mingled with the majority of extras. The male cast around Prince Eric on the ship would open the show, however markers for the transition had to be gives first before you were moved aside to watch them and wait, you would blend in on the background and then fade out of the floor to the side to wait again. Ariel’s sisters and Sebastian would come next before you would come again with Flounder and Scuttle.

While some might have worried you got the least attention it was clearly shown to not be needed as you took right away to what he seemed to want going through the day with little alterations from the first try of the steps. Something the pair of Directors were floored by and took notice of your classmates that seemed to have a knack for that as well having been so used to his style of teaching. For waves most of the ballet would be those leaping with ribbons with ebbs and flows in deep sways and off kilter moves added by the ship crew who would rock to the imagined shift of the fake boat they were on between leaps from mark to mark for their roles in ship tasks. A tape playing of the music helped to give hints to the songs you had all been given copies of days prior gave a simple idea of the flow of the show you were not singing just yet to rest your voices until the vocal rehearsals.

It wasn’t that hard of a set of steps. Even to the tap dancing number you had with the seagulls after being turned human. However the struggle came from what restrictions the costumes would give at having to do a lot of upper body movements and smooth arches with your joined legs in the ample lifts and team work steps around later what would include sections that you would be suspended by long blue ribbons of cloth to get the proper effects. Every other day the dance rehearsals would have you in vocal rehearsals while the extras would have theirs today and every day between yours.

One week bled into two and with the newer musical version of the film meant for Broadway the show took on a new life and proved to be easier than first described to you. The most free beginning with the transformation scene when your tail would be removed and the dancers circling you with colored cloths for the magic spell. They would give cover for the hand off of a sort of toga dress Sebastian would help tie the back up for you to hide the leotard the loose wrinkled fabric would be stitched to that would be eased over your mostly sheer top leotard with fake shells to cover your breasts that secured around the neck. They would carry off your tail skirt in their prance away leaving you in the faked moment of struggle to gain control of your new legs. Trailed by two steps and a collapse to be hoisted up by Flounder and Sebastian to get you onto the staircase to be brought in later acting as the path to the surface of the water.

Nights found you soaking your feet and eating what you could before early trips to bed to get some sleep to be ready for the cameras that the documentary team hired to film this could easily pick up on any hint of troubles you were having.

This wasn’t the first time your grandparents would have come to New York but this was big. You had paid 1.25 million into your house and had the other quarter left to drop when you were done with your apartment and around the breakfast table on the Saturday before the big show you had to mentally work out the times today all your appliances were coming you’d picked out three days prior. Washer, dryer and several fridges were coming and while you continued to paint the final upper floor walls their base color down to Lee’s walls he’d bought the shades he wanted leaving the cans inside the basement until you got through the rest of the house to help him paint there liking your skills at house painting.

All tasks helping to distract you from the tabloid fodder. You were the main topic, how well or terribly you were supposedly doing with assumed weight fluctuations from a so called terrible diet as if you weren’t taking full care to remain well fed and weren’t restricting yourself so for the normal body type for the stage. Someone else might have snapped and turned their heads in the store to read those titles alone but you never did ignoring any and everything except for an adorable magazine on puppies to help your dad pick a breed for the dog he’d wanted to get options on. Money always came next and with it came the topic of how much you were making the show was quick to shut down saying that everyone was volunteering their time for free and that was where it shifted for the start of the second week.

Drastically headlines seemed to shift to that news that broke while you were snapped in pictures through your open uncovered windows carrying more supplies up the stairs to head to the third floor where while the top floor walls dried you wanted to get started on the murals on the walls of the nursery. Patches of sorts like off a quilt to be lined with frames of stars and compasses and tiny treasure pathways and x’s were signature scenes from the children’s story to be painted in later while your dad and Lee got started painting his basement until the break for lunch when you would join them again.

Lunch was brought by the Landlord who smiled taking a tour seeing how it was all tying together, and gladly taking the task of guiding the delivery men down to the basement to install one fridge, stove, dishwasher and the washer and dryer so you could eat. Fridge oven and dishwasher were next for the main floor with two fridges and ovens heading up to the higher floors stirring curiosity to the cameramen below as to how many kitchens you were planning on having. All of this attention however seemed to only attract more as by Tuesday you had offers from several house renovation centered magazines requesting the first tour of the place when you had completed it.

“Thank you so much,” you said handing over the clipboard with sighed delivery sheet once all was installed properly from the now empty truck.

“Hell of a place you got here Miss Pear. Been a real pleasure to get a peek inside.”

Making you smirk at the head guys’s turn to join his crew back inside the truck to head back to the shop. “Thank you.”

Lee behind you smirked asking, “So, appliances, utilities and half of our stuff, um, what were we waiting on to move in again?”

To which your dad added, “Cable’s installed tomorrow along with the internet and home phone.”

Lee, “Plus cable tomorrow.”

Rolling your eyes you turned around saying, “Just hire the truck and crew to help move.”

“Yes!” Lee said turning to high five your widely smiling dad on the way back inside to get painting his apartment again.

“Guess you can buy that big screen too dad.” You said as the doors shut behind you.

“Already did, arriving tomorrow. Along with yours and Lee’s.” Earning a squeaking hug from the lanky body crashing into him out of excitement while you giggled at his proud smile for holding back more surprise gifts he’d planned weeks prior. Saving his hug for later when you could head to bed again dozing off next to him while he watched the shows playing on your staticky rabbit ear using tv for a sort of going away party for this place you never even got the chance to choose to move into in the first place.

Lost to thoughts on why should you really get the chance to pick when you wanted to move out you turned around to head inside. One more day of packing and hoisting everything up and down more flights of steps and that would be it. You could turn in the keys and pay off the brownstone to keep your word and Rich could mail his copy of the keys later. Very soon you’d have to go to sleep in a still halfway done home of your own and all you selfishly wanted was Richard to be done fake loving other women in England to be here and hoist you up in his arms for an oh so stereotypical picture of his carrying you over the threshold.

You supposed that could wait for the England home, this would just be yours for now and you could tolerate how badly you wanted to cry at the weight of it all while the duo moving in with you were oh so happy for this new beginning. Two huge checks and this tiny break once this show was over could be used to mull over whatever this slump would turn out to be to ready for that freeing sight of New Zealand that brought with it a whole new weight, another blockbuster smasher of a film with your face in the front of the poster right next to a giant ape.

You could do this, you kept repeating it over and over all while it felt like swallowing glass and coughing it up again into the shapes of chains of flowers at how somehow you still felt helpless and alone. You found out soon enough these thoughts were just a mental warning flag from your body something was coming as your stomach seemed to clench all of a sudden and you were off to the adorable guest bath under the stairs to hurl up everything you ate. Fever followed within moments and your dad was tucking you up in his arms to start the end of your night inside the ER. The Landlord took on the task of locking up swearing he’d take charge of helping Lee finish up his floor while you were being taken care of.

Your dad couldn’t care less about the show, merely wanting you to be better again, holding strong to ensure you weren’t going to be looked over and sent home without an answer. It was just a fever and nausea to them at first glance but something about this stirred up memories of his losing your mom like every time you had a fever before.

It wasn’t your appendix and you weren’t dehydrated and once laid flat didn’t feel the urge to throw up anymore. A blood pregnancy test came back negative in the time they waited for a body scan that showed you had an ovarian cyst that burst. You knew it was there, the lone little parasite now spontaneously exploded in its own little reaction to your internal turmoil no doubt as all you’d done was sign a clipboard and try to walk back to your basement apartment. Just in case ectopic pregnancy was ruled out.

And to the cameras outside you came walking out a few hours later just in time to get a warm hug from Lee while sharing what happened and how you were fine, if not a tad bit sore and amply tired and ready for bed. Once the house was all locked up again back to the apartment you walked where your dad to carry you up to yours seeing your energy had dwindled again fully at ease with making supper then curling around you all night. And on into the morning for a decided easy day of you gently helping Lee to finish painting while your dad handled the crew of delivery guys and the second that installed the cable throughout the house to the four floors set for it that mingled with their apparent friends from the internet and phone crew.

There would be a mounted phone in the kitchen with a voicemail attachment to go with two table top phones for your dad’s and in your private living room as your bedroom didn’t have the right outlet for it and Richard’s study would be his sanctuary and the ring might bother his thought process. To go with that the second outlet there would be used for where your laptop could sit that your dad could help to move your desk from your bedroom later. Each phone now with the number written on a slip under the clear slot under the receiver for the speed dial card mainly empty you could add to later.

The sick day, for your relief, pushed back the move day to have you at your peak past the show date. The next night to be exact, which Lee was readying for by boxing his stuff up already and focusing on small trips to the shop to pick out some spare small essentials he might want to decorate his new place he went ahead and left there using his key he smiled brightly every time he used it. Richard along with friends and family who called were calmed down leaving the latter to hope that this lost cyst might ease your monthly troubles in the future since its arrival and lone decision to make said monthly cycles dreadful for you.

Sunday passed however and Monday came again, to everyone once again staring all the way up to where you found Mr Tarl and Mr Combs who both asked, “Are you alright?”

“Ya, ovarian cyst burst. Doctor cleared me. I’ve stretched and danced a bit over yesterday doesn’t hurt till I try to get into a handstand for a cartwheel other than that I’m good.”

Mr Combs chuckled at your try to make them relax and said, “Just let us know if you need a break at any time.”

“Thank you.”

Over to your friends once you’d filled your cubby you walked saying, “Oh stop, had to drop in for my yearly hoof and horns maintenance.” Luring chuckles and grins from those around you who in school knew of a nickname from an instructor who called you a goat in your first week assuming limits on your skills who you proved wrong right away. “All good and polished now for the big show.”

“Did I push too hard on moving into the new place?” Lee asked you on your way up from just getting back again after the practice.

Turning your head you spotted him by the mailboxes answering, “Are you, is this about my cyst?”

“I’ve been pushing too hard. We’ve been painting non stop, appliance hunting in those warehouses and you’re trying to do the show and your grandparents are coming soon.”

“Lee,” you giggled out, “You didn’t make my cyst burst as much as I’ve been behind your appendix throwing its own tantrum.”

That had his grin easing out, “You’re sure this isn’t too fast?” he asked walking with you up the steps, “I mean you moved here on your own now I feel like I’m nudging you out of your bigger place.”

“I didn’t move in here.” You said making him pause and you looked up at him, “You remember? I went to Oxford and when I got back my things were moved into the bigger place that Mrs Henderson was moved out of. I want to move, it’s a fantastic place, but I wanted to be a bit selfish for at least a couple days with my daydreams.”

“Daydreams on what?”

“Call me selfish but I wanted to buy it and fix it up with Rich here too and to have him here for that first night in, but he won’t even see the place until October at the latest. Even my grandparents are going to see it before he does. I want to move in, it just, feels a bit, big. It’s a freaking house, five floors and I don’t even have a vacuum.”

That had him chuckle and move in to claim a calming hug from you, murmuring in a press of his cheek onto the top of your head, “We’ll go vacuum shopping tomorrow if you like.”

“I don’t even know what to look for in a vacuum.”

Pulling back he said resting his arm across your back, “Come on, let’s go see if your dad can answer that question. And if it makes you feel better you can carry me over the threshold.” That had you giggle through his own chuckle.

First fittings were today post dance practice before your vocal practice. Again just the dance had you close to wiped out and once the fitting was over at the vocal training you took up the offer of one of the wheeled stools to rest up some from the lingering discomfort you were feeling. Truly it wasn’t very painful compared to the exhausting rehearsals that now on top of this was tearing the wind from your sails but growing more tolerable with the end goal in sight. Added to the supplies a vacuum was brought to your new place and cross legged on the couch from Canada in your living room you sat having assembled said appliance watching the show your dad switched on for you seeing how tired you were.

There was just a little bit of work to be done to Lee’s apartment they assured you they could handle while you rested, both knowing you’d most likely nod off under the blanket he had laid across it after it was moved in. And sure enough when they broke for a meal they found you stretched out underneath that blanket lost in a deep much needed nap. And gently the hand smoothing over your back woke you helped you to be draped around your dad’s back for the walk to your apartment where the dinner in the crock pot was waiting for the three of you. Lee had seen you tired and nodding off before but this was something different and slowly he began to see just how rough this health speed bump had slammed you into the ground. At least you were bouncing back, that gave him some form of comfort while he watched you slip back to your usual self just in time for the big day.

Wednesday was the first try on the actual stage and Thursday Lee and your dad both stole two of the seats in the crowd of relatives of the other cast mates to see what you had pulled together in such a short time. The pair again awed by another impressive show you had chosen to be a part of. The same seats that the following day they both smiled seeing your Grandparents coming to join them once spotted with creeping grins at the intriguing take on the popular tale. Like always their presence was not missed. Proved by more than one dancer among the extras who perked up hoping to make a good impression all through to the end of the work day when you smiled.

An adjustment of a twist was given to your engagement ring that was freshly added again on your way from the locker room that enabled you to change from your leotard and sweats to a t shirt and shorts spotting your grandparents waiting there for you.

“Babushka, Babu.”

The pair of them both gave you tight hugs and your grandpa said gladly in Russian, “We missed you, precious Bubble.”

She asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now, back to myself again.”

She asked, “And there were no more cysts?”

“No, just the one and I have an appointment when I get back from New Zealand to get scanned again to see if another grows or if it was just a one off.”

Your Grandpa asked, “Time to feed you.”

That had you smile and say, “I thought I might show you something first if you’re up for it.”

Your Grandma answered, “As long as we can take you to eat afterwards have to get your strength back up.”

Your dad smiled saying, “We could always order something when we get there.”

Grandpa looked between you asking in your turn to lad the way out, “There is food there?”

“Oh I think you’ll love it when you see it.” His question died however to his creeping grin at your arm looping under his and all the way from climbing into the car their driver opened for you to the address it pulled up on you could see their minds working to find out where you were taking them. The pair spoke to your dad while Lee listened to a message from one of the actors in his own play whose call he’d missed. The stop outside the brownstone however had them utterly baffled in the slide out of the car to join you on the curb. Your words however seemed to make it click for them, “I told you about that place I was looking at?”

That turned their heads and her lips parted taking in the whole building you gestured to, “This is the place?”

You nodded and asked, “Wanna see?” Their heads nodded and you giggled turning to show them inside. Once again your dad explained the outer gate on the stoop they approved of for spare security to the mudroom you left your bag inside of on the built in bench along the wall granting them a moment to prepare before you opened the front door and the full tour really began.

From the reading hideaway that turned out to be a bit awkward looking until you’d unpacked your books you’d bought in Canada filling a shelf at least gave a hint to one day being loaded with books that even they could adore the idea of for you. The half covered windows they mainly loved as, just like in your tour, still cast the place in a gorgeous glow, passing the steps to the living room you pointed to your chandelier saying, “Liv Tyler gifted me this chandelier, the old tenant hung stuff on his and it left this huge crater in the floor when it fell. And this place has these great beam arches and some of them are used for these half walls,” you said leading them into the living room where they admired everything from the carpet to the intricate fireplace their fingertips stroked along on their way to admire the milky glass you had talked about.

Grandpa, “Interesting furniture arrangement.” Taking notice of the couch still in the center of the room with the tv out a good distance from the wall as well.

Grandma, “And, is this eggshell for the walls?”

“Oh, that’s just the primer coat,” earning nods from them. “We’ve only painted the basement the colors Lee wanted yet, everywhere else had patchy drywall and needed the basecoat before we could paint whatever color we eventually decide on. I was thinking an indigo or navy for here, then go lighter on the way back.”

Grandpa, “That would be lovely.”

“Yes, we just have our things from Canada here so far, the rest is gonna be moved day after tomorrow, got a crew helping us and everything with the truck. It looks so much better in here with the new flooring in. Had huge gouges and welts in the floor where he’d smashed holes in the tiles and walls had been torn out, but I think I picked well on tiles and such and Rich loved the idea for the carpet shade.”

Onwards into the dining room you led them exciting them even more as your dad said, “Used to be two small rooms here we tore the walls out of to make this space bigger, adds another guest bath down here, and the kitchen was just laughable. Had to be ten by ten, if that with no dining room.”

“They tore the cabinets out and smashed the countertops too, but I got them to build me this really cool island, and there’s the bathroom tucked back here,” you said with a smile. Leading them from the bath hidden partly by the ends of the built ins and the half wall for a puzzling empty space now explained as a mini hall. From the cute bathroom they admired the silver and blue color scheme they followed you to the spacious pantry through the door in the middle of the built ins and out again to get a better look at the kitchen. “Brand new tile counters, good for heat and easy scrubbing, plus easy to repair if one does ever break.”

Grandma, “Very beautiful. Counter damage can be a nightmare.”

Your Grandpa led the way to the newly tiled sunroom, “You have a yard?”

“Little one, bout 30, 40 feet by 25.” you said in the way out onto the patio for a less than awe striking scrap of green spreading through the upturned tiled courtyard. “Haven’t decided on how to work the yard yet, but we were thinking of pulling back the tile for more grass space when we do have the courtyard redone.”

Grandpa, “You could have a nice garden here, and that is a nice tree, rather small.”

Your dad said, “I don’t think it’s very old, but it should grow over time. L said it flowers in the spring, so should be pretty, nice purple-ish ones.” Joining them on the walk back in where she led the way to the hall to the basement making Lee grin and follow along to give the tour of his impressive apartment he’d be renting before their trip back up to see more.

The bath under the stairs had them smiling for what hint of a theme you might be trying to match up to it for the rest of the place and up you went. A bed frame and mattress had been set up for your dad’s room you’d painted his decided color so he wouldn’t have to move the bed again and from the office to the guest room. There they paused to inspect the beds you had designed. Four Queen sized beds with one simple tug revealing in sliding drawers under the bottom one two spare twin sized slots for two more guests if need be surrounded by two rows of cubbies and shelves to fill the gaps to the ends of the walls had your grandfather asking, “Did you have these specially built? Or did they come with the house?”

“I designed them, actually.” You said in a hint of a bashful tone to their creeping smiles at seeing a glimmer of that engineering degree of yours coming to some use in all this construction making them wonder which other pieces you had come up with reminding them of your ingenious island downstairs they had admired for all its features. Along with several tiny features un-thought of to increase storage space where little more could be squeezed out.

Grandmother, “Impressive. This design could put many double beds sold now to shame.”

Your dad said leading the way out of the room, “Got another set upstairs. Wanted to get them in while the flooring and shelf units were going in to not piss off the neighbors more than necessary. Whole crew was amazed by her design and how precise her measurements came down to a simple photo copy onto a blueprint for the build.”

And onto the living space they had to admire how much space you were granting your father. An action they took as one of great respect for him almost drawing tears to their eyes. They knew how much you loved him and in this western culture that seemed at times to abandon their elders you shown a blatant disregard for that norm and even had granted your best friend a safe home as well in your free space too.

Up again they went to the more bland floor with just the interesting layout and curved wall shapes. “The second set of beds is in here.” Up until they reached the book nook that you led them past almost making them sigh at having to see another guest room. “And this one was clearly my favorite and gave me the best idea when I first saw it.”

Straight through the bathroom and into the closet you walked exiting the open sliding doors for their jaw dropping view of the framed sketch coated walls above the few built in shelves and benches under the wall near the window and the chandelier above a few rolled up rugs and a toy chest you’d found in a second hand shop. Your Grandma asked, “This looks like a children’s room, is it?” Looking straight at you now.

“We are planning ahead, no babies yet, obviously, but we did agree it’d be best to at least know where we wanted to put them when they do come. All reminding them of the wishes of their daughter on a pirate themed nursery of her own one day. “Mom had some Peter Pan sketches for me, so I have these mural sketches I’m gonna fill in in a few days and I was thinking a silvery blue for the walls. And I found this really cool pirate ship chandelier.”

The pair simply hugged you widening your grin in their silent moment of utter glee knowing babies had been planned for and they would one day see their great grandbabies both in person and pictured inside this nursery. “It is beautiful,” they said releasing you again before asking, “Where will you sleep?”

“Top floor.” Continuing the tour to the stairs for another stunning open floor plan. All the open spaces were looked at with a pause in the study you said, “I thought Rich might like this, so he can keep his work research here and have his own deflating spot after roles to pace or do whatever in to get into a character.”

Grandma looked at you, “He is very serious then in his craft.”

“Yes,” you said with a smile, “He might have to play death destined whores often for tv bits right now but one day he’ll get a role he can really sink his teeth into. He’s much more intense on stage. Ooh, like North and South when it comes out, he played it so well. I think next spring, ish, it’ll be out on BBC. I’ll warn you.”

Onto the bedroom and master suite and closet you showed them deepening their smiles spotting the boxes on the seemingly new mattress there beside the bed frame kit yet to be put together. Both taking in the odd wave to one wall on the other side of the staircase that limited where you could put your bed. “This wall is kind of odd but I think maybe a chair or something could go here, for night reading or something. And I was thinking maybe plum and grey for in here. Rich likes that scheme from my apartment now.”

“And you are moving in fully after the show, how much is this house?”

“1.5 million,” gaining a plotting nod from the pair on means of shifting funds your way if necessary.

She asked, “This seems large. We have looked at realtor listings here before. Is this large for this part of town?”

You nodded, “25 by 60 feet. 1500 roughly a floor for 7500. Huge compared to what I’d have ever dreamed to land. But L and Dad have been plotting a while. Which is good most spots on this block are closer to 3 million or even higher but it was so trashed we got a good deal, put one and a quarter into it so far not counting renovations, and have agreed to pay off the final quarter when I turn over the apartment.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she said instantly deepening your anxious grin to a pleased one, “This is an incredible home to begin in. Richard approves?”

“Yes, he’s only seen it in pictures but he helped to pick the first try for colors while he came to stay in Canada when I went back. So we’ve sort of worked on it together. I also have pictures of the new place he got in England, his brother moved and he wanted to be closer to his parents and since I graduated I don’t need to be so close to Oxford. I could just take the train if need be. He even picked a kids room there we said we could mirror the one here to sort of give them a sense of familiarity for when we bound around until we settle.”

Grandpa, “Great plan. Always useful to have an anchor for babies.”

“So where did you want to eat?” You asked and they smiled all the way back to the stairs where your grandmother paused eyeing the door on the side of the half walls around the stairs topped with milky glass panes. She eased it open and you said, “We have those at the ranch in Texas, barn door to keep kids off the stairs.”

That parted her lips as you showed her that it closed with a knob up top locking the door into the walls for a secure guard against baby tumbles. Your Gramps said, “I did not even notice this.”

“Five floors wanted to make sure we get these in with the other builds so they wouldn’t go forgotten. Plus the plastic ones they sell can give out, these are in the walls and mounted on the rails top and bottom.”

She eased the door back open again flat against the wall and walked with you now sharing second glances at each flight noticing the secure doors that doubled the safety of the unborn grandbabies you would be raising at least partly here. All the way down to the car feeling so much more at ease over what sort of home you might have chosen to claim for yourself out here and what that meant for your future.

They had chosen a hotel to stay in and while you savored your last night in your tiny bubble the inevitable morning crept closer and groggily you woke and readied yourself for the day. Though this time with fiery red hair that after a trip back to the salon the Queens had helped you with some fiery red hair dye that would wash out over the next few weeks in time for your trip back to bleach yourself blonde. Heading out in exactly the shorts and shirt your hand first fell onto once you’d eaten to start the final fitting and makeup process for the set pictures with the cast. Again your hair was straightened out by the amazed makeup crew that was glad to not have to use the assumed twelve cans of temporary hair dye that now could be scattered throughout the cast of extras that were eating up more than expected. Just a few extensions were added by means of a few stitches into the braids they were woven into around the bottom half of the back of your head that in case your curls did come out again the length wouldn’t be too noticeably changed. It was another bold look for yourself taking the others aback each time they spotted you adding this to your portfolio of identities you had assumed.

A speech was eventually given and soon enough from a place readied behind the lowered curtain for the first scene to your cast bows the spectacle was through and you could now wade through the night of flashes and press that had come to speak to each of the dancers to fill in the picture to flood the papers with. It was a stunning haul for the charity and partly in thanks to the deep pocket names yours had brought in. Losing you from the roster lured some investors from London. All who had personally flown here to add to the donation tin to spite the company that spurned you with promises to return praising your performance to build up more steam in the disc sales when they were available.

All in all you were glad to have taken the role for charity and once the extensions were removed, you’d washed the hairspray out of your hair and sat comfortably in your boxed up apartment a grin slid across your face in the mental goodbye to your trusty apartment that had seen so much of your dramatic little blip here.

One more night was taken on your old soon to be guest bed until the bright and early joint hour long unloading process of taking all you’d managed to get up to your place down to the truck to join Lee’s scattered boxes and desk he had. The guys locked up the truck and with a tight hug to your former landlord and new neighbor the keys were traded along with the final check and he chuckled letting you be on your way to the brownstone you beat the truck to.

Obviously used to the hefting of furniture up and down stairs the crew mentally planned each piece out and while you guided the furniture up to where it was going while holding boxes of your own your dad and Lee both handled the rest of the boxes. Word soon got around and the moving van had curious people peering in the open truck with a bit of disappointment not seeing anything fancier than some old furniture and boxes to go with the new appliances and tv’s you’d been photographed in accepting the delivery of. Yet the truck was soon emptied and the pleased team handed out handshakes accepting the cash you paid with. Pleased you had helped to streamline the process with a plan of your own making this one of the simplest moves they had done in this area with others they recounted for each other on the stroll back to the truck now locked up again. Moving the boxes though was half the battle, leaving the curb inside you went and got to unpacking.

First in your kitchen you unpacked your supply of dishes from the apartment having already put your supply from Canada in the kitchen on your floor, leaving your bedroom for later knowing you’d no doubt cry when you got there. Everything was in the middle of the rooms easing things even more for the crew who were told you would be painting more to explain it. But all your dishes and appliances you assigned new homes to joined the food in bags you unloaded into the fridge and pantry. Away from the table you moved the chairs extending the middle portion of it to scoot the chairs back readying the place for guests in the future.

The soaps and cleaning supplies you had were next, with the bottle of detergent taken down by Lee to the laundry room on his way to unpack his things while your dad was already on his way up to his own floor. Hefty and left in the middle of the reading room now housing your armchair from your apartment the boxes of books were next. With each empty box forming a pile you’d move to the garage for use later and in a make shift system more of the shelves were filled and the sight warmed your heart at their having a home now not just lying on the floor like before.

Up to Richard’s study you went, passing each guest bath you had decorated with small touches to make them usable to guests in the future, to unload the box of books and journals he’d left in New York either by design or chance and then gave in and went to your room. Along with your violin case the boxes from your closet along with the two bags you now traveled with were unloaded with the few shirts Richard had left with you, each you gave a quick hug to and settled on the shoe cubby and underwear drawer comprised island in the center of the room to be cuddled up in later. Stealing a once over in your way out all your things around the bed including your aquarium lamp you’d have to find the right home for later on.

Shaking off the vast space for just you down the steps again you went to pull together the first lunch in the place that would kick off the next round of painting. Again once you’d rinsed the dishes now added to the washer the windows were opened as the navy paint was opened and on the tarped living room floor brushes were grabbed to begin the final touches to this floor. Room by room the colors wanted were added breathing life into the place. Subtle shades of crème were used in the undecided space to not have white walls that just the base coat alone stood out too boldly against the navy you’d chosen that was matched by a single strip of bare wall inside your reading hideaway to go with the brilliant cherry wood shelving.

Dinner broke the painting and while the floor aired out you ate watching a film on your dad’s floor planning the next steps for the following day for him and you while Lee had some plans with a friend coming back to town.

“So when is trash day again?”

“Wednesday,” your dad answered. “The bins are in the garage, they pick up on that middle street.”

“I will remember that.” You said wetting your lips to add, “Ok before we get settled for night one, let’s have an honor code for toilet paper in the guest toilets.”

Lee, “Why are you looking at me?”

“You’re across from me, anyways I have the smallest bladder but if we see it’s running low in the guest baths we get a new roll for it even if we have to buy a new pack for the pantry.”

Lee nods, “I’m good with that. Speaking of bladder,” he said popping up to use your dad’s bathroom after a consenting point and nod exchange between him and your dad.

Once alone your dad smirks humming out, “I give him a week before he’s stealing toilet paper and towels from the guest bathrooms.”

You smirked replying, “Oh now, he’s got his show he’s rehearsing for, clearly he’ll be using theirs too. I give him two.”

“Might as well buy twelve packs for each bathroom with the rest of the supplies.” Making the both of you chuckle to yourselves finishing your meal with Lee once he’d returned. Once the food was gone your floor was tackled.

With your room a lovely plum color on two of the walls and the wall leading to the bathroom around the fireplace and the wavy wall were painted a lovely dark grey that while wet almost looked black but dried in a softer tone. The grey already was in your closet that proved as a test of the shockingly dark shade you were glad to duplicate in the bedroom. Midnight blue was used between the built ins for Richard’s study to make the wood pop as the accents that along with the light from the window helped to keep it from seeming too dark for him to be able to feel comfortable to work there. Dark teal was your alternative shade that from the mint accents in your kitchen colored your living room to finish off the colorful floor that with the left over white walls on the walls outside your bedroom and the study painted crème to help separate the different areas.

Pt 44

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Lee Pace x Reader OC #Moving In #Tour of Grandparents #The Little Mermaid Musical Ballet Charity Show #Rehearsals #Filming #Hospital Trip #Medical Issue #Recovery #Work Through The Pain #Grandparents Visit #Home Improvements Shown Off #Painting

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday Batmom

OMG rereading my old works makes me wanna cringe. But this piece is kinda special because it’s one of the first Batmom fics I ever wrote. So, enjoy it! -Thorne <3

Her eyes opened, and she glanced blearily towards the window, still dark out, then at the clock on her nightstand. Four-thirty, it read, and she grunted, pulling the covers back up to her face and rolling over. She pressed up against his side as he was on his stomach, and subconsciously, his arm rose from where it was tucked under his pillow, and she crawled underneath it; her head resting up on his pillow. He shifted, his arm coming down to wrap around her middle, his head rising, burying his face in her neck. A leg intertwined between hers, and the right side of his body rested on her right, and the comfortable, familiar weight lulled her back to sleep.

When she awoke again, the clock read nine-thirty-five, and she breathed deeply, moving her head to see his face; but he wasn’t beside her. She looked up on his pillow and saw a little note.

Went to go make breakfast. Be back in a few minutes. I love you (Y/N).

(Y/N) smiled as she plucked the note from the pillow, bringing to her nose, smelling it; it smelled like his cologne had been sprayed on it, something he did when he left notes for her to find. She inhaled again and rolled over, tucking the note in the bottom drawer of her nightstand before rolling out of the bed and walking over to his dresser and pulling out a t-shirt, slipping it on, then pulling out a pair of his joggers. (Y/N) pulled them on and moved to the bathroom, washing her face and pulling up her hair, so it was out of her face, then moved back to the bed. She laid down on her side and pulled the covers up to her chest, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her feed; multiple texts from her friends, and tweets from her followers reminded her of what today was. And here I am…another year older… (Y/N) grunted and sighed, and the door opened; her eyes flitted up and she watched her husband and children tiptoe, until they saw her, awake, then they walked normally. Bruce was in front, carrying a tray of mixed-breakfast foods, Dick and Jason held jugs-of what she could only assume was milk and orange juice-, Tim held a tray of coffee and creamers, and Damian held a bouquet. She smiled at them as she set her phone down. “My my…I should request this every day!” They laughed and Jason looked at her.

“Sorry Ma…only on birthdays and Mother’s Day.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and let out a ‘pfft’, causing them to laugh again. Bruce set down the tray beside her and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, then pulling back and smiling at her.

“Happy Birthday (Y/N).” She flashed him a heart-fluttering smile.

“Thank you, Bruce.” He smiled and the other boys cleared their throats, causing her to glance at them; Dick and Jason set down the jugs and she eyed them. “What’s in those?” Dick spoke first.

“Uh…that one is…” He turned to Jason. “What were they again?” Jason sighed and pointed to the first jug, then the second.

“That’s the Mimosa jug, and that’s the ‘Just Peachy’ Peach Bellini.” (Y/N)’s eyebrows rose, and she looked at them.

“Are you trying to get me hammered this morning?” Jason snorted and shook his head.

“Nah…alcohol content is pretty low. You’ll just get a nice buzz.” She nodded, impressed.

“I do like Mimosas and peaches.” Dick and Jason grinned, and Tim stepped up placing the tray on Bruce’s nightstand.

“I got your jet fuel coffee mom.” She glanced at him and motioned for her cup.

“Oh, pour me a cup baby. I could use some coffee right now.” He smiled and did so, passing her, her coffee cup; Jason pointed to it.

“I’ve never actually read the words on it. What does it say?” (Y/N) snorted and held it up, reading it aloud.

“And then I realized…this is my circus, and these are my monkeys.” Their mouths dropped open, expect for Dick, who laughed. Damian stepped up and handed her the bouquet he’d been holding.

“These are for you Umi.” She sat her coffee cup down and took them, lightly touching a petal, and looked at him.

“Pink carnations?” He nodded.

“A symbol of a mother’s undying love.” Her eyes went wide, and she looked at the boys who just smiled widely at her; she felt tears start to form, and huffed a laugh, bringing her hand up to wipe them.

“Oh god…don’t make me cry this early boys…I won’t be able to stop if I do.” They simply smiled and she looked at Damian. “Thank you, baby.” He smiled and took them from her, setting them in a vase on her vanity. She looked at the tray full of food. “This is more than enough for me and Bruce to eat.” (Y/N) glanced at the boys and tipped her head. “How about you boys join me for breakfast?” They nodded. “Just don’t flop on-” She spoke too late, and the next thing she knew, all four of her boys were jumping onto the bed; it ended badly, with limbs tangled in the dogpile in the middle of her bed.

“OW JASON! THAT’S MY LEG!”

“WELL YOU PUT YOUR ELBOW IN MY SIDE!”

“DRAKE YOU LANDED ON MY BACK! GET OFF THIS INSTANT BEFORE I DISLOCATE YOUR THUMB FROM IT’S SOCKET!”

“YOU TOUCH MY HAND AND I’LL KICK YOUR ASS DEMON-SPAWN!”

The arguing between them continued until (Y/N) cleared her throat, and they went silent, staring at her apprehensively. She glowered at them.

“If I have to split up fights today, I will jerk knots in all your tails, you hear?” Most of them nodded, save Damian, who quipped.

“What does that mean?” Jason nudged him.

“Means she’ll wear our asses out?” That only served to confuse him more.

“…What?” Dick sighed.

“She’ll bust our butts.” He put emphasis on ‘butts’, glaring at Jason who just rolled his eyes. Damian nodded and she looked at Bruce.

“You gonna join in the merry-menagerie?” He snorted and nodded, picking up the tray and moving over to his side, sitting up against the headboard with her. The boys reached over to grab something when she smacked their hands lightly. “Don’t pick it with your fingers.” (Y/N) looked up at the door and saw Alfred walking in with extra plates and silverware; she smiled. “I was just about to ask one of them to go find you Alfred.” He smiled and passed the boys a plate, speaking eloquently.

“Yes well, when the young masters did not return, I assumed they had joined you and the sir for breakfast.” He paused and moved beside her, leaning over and giving her a hug. “Happy Birthday Mrs. (Y/N).” (Y/N) smiled brightly and nodded.

“Thank you, Alfred.” He nodded, and they watched him leave the room, then they turned back to the tray, and she sighed. “Oh…go nuts.” They grinned and dug into the tray, picking up croissants and jellies, waffles and bacon, anything they could. (Y/N) just smiled, and a cold glass appeared in her vision. She turned to see Bruce pouring one of the jugs; she leaned over, her cheek pressing into his bicep. He paused and grinned down at her; she matched his. “Which one is that?” He poured the cup full and held it up to her lips, and she took a sip, frozen peach slushy filling her mouth. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she nodded, taking the glass from him. “That’s good.”

“Thanks. I made it.” She glanced at Jason who currently had half a croissant shoved in his mouth. (Y/N) sighed.

“Jason Peter…what have a told you about shoving things in your mouth like that?” He snorted and chewed, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

“Not…to” She nodded.

“It’s almost as if it goes in one ear, and out the other.” He flushed and Dick snorted, and she turned to him. “Richard John. Don’t you dare laugh.” His lips went into a thin line and he nodded, and Jason looked at him and mouthed ‘ha-ha’. “Jason Peter.” He lowered his head and mumbled,

“…Sorry Ma.” She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, picking up a piece of bacon and biting it. Damian lathered his waffle with butter, then syrup, and looked at her.

“Umi…what are you going to do today?” (Y/N) glanced at him and shrugged her shoulders.

“Dunno…haven’t thought that far yet.” Tim snorted.

“It’s your birthday mom. You haven’t thought about what you want to do?” (Y/N) looked at him.

“The older I get, the more I want to stay home.” Bruce looked at her and sipped his coffee.

“Why’s that?” She eyed him and bit into a biscuit.

“Cause if I go out…I have to wear makeup and a bra…and I don’t feel like doing that.” The boys chuckled, and Tim spoke again.

“So…you don’t want to go out today?” (Y/N) nodded her head.

“Yep.”

“Then what do you want to do for your birthday mom?” She looked at Dick and licked her thumb, reaching out and swiping some marmalade from the corner of his mouth, and wiped it on a napkin.

“I want you boys to clean my house and spend time with me.” Immediately, the boys started groaning about, ‘not wanting to clean a giant freakin’ manor’, and she stuck her tongue to her teeth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. They winced and she spoke firmly. “I want you boys to help Alfred clean the house and spend time with me. Understood?” They reluctantly nodded, and she continued. “Besides, the faster you get the cleaning done, the more time we’ll have today.” They looked at each other before hopping off the bed and kicking it towards the door; she called out after them. “Don’t half-ass it either!” They raised their hands in acknowledgement and the door slammed behind them. (Y/N) sighed and reclined against the headboard, closing her eyes. She felt the bed shift beside her, and she watched Bruce get up and walk towards the door. “I didn’t mean you too Bruce.” She watched him stop at the door and his hand rested along the lock and twisted it; he turned to her and smirked.

“Oh, I know you didn’t Mrs. Wayne.” (Y/N) matched his smirk and set the tray on the nightstand, moving to the center of the headboard. She watched him saunter towards her, a hand reaching up behind his back, and he pulled off his shirt. She hummed.

“You should’ve done a cross-body pull-off, so I could’ve seen your abs and chest flex.” He huffed a laugh and crawled onto the bed, stopping just before her feet; she grinned. “What’re you waiting for?” His hands gripped her ankles and tugged, pulling her body off the headboard and down the bed. (Y/N) burst into surprised peals of laughter, and laid back, feeling him climb and rest on top of her. She stared up at him. “It’s my birthday…why are you on top?” He stopped, chuckling, and she continued. “You’re always topping.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, and wrapped her legs around his hips, interlocking her ankles, and shoved, signaling him to shift with her. He obliged, and rolled, his hands coming to rest on her hips. He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“How’s the weather up there?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and gripped her shirt, tugging it off.

“Hardy-har-har…very funny Mr. Wayne.” He squeezed her hips.

“I try.” She grinned down at him.

“I’ve noticed.” He smirked and raised up, a hand going behind her and undoing her bra; she slipped it off and dropped it to the floor, pulling back to look at him. He followed, and she placed a hand on his chest and shoved him down, smirking wickedly at him. “Mr. Wayne, you seem to be under the impression that you’re in charge now.” He raised an eyebrow and she continued. “It’s my turn dear.”

A Couple Hours Later:

(Y/N) stepped down the stairs behind Bruce, one hand holding a cup, the other toweling her damp hair. They stepped into the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink, then moved to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. She curled up on his chest, her head tucking under his chin. His hand rose and rubbed circles in her back, and he flipped on the TV, switching it over to the news. Vicki Vale greeted them.

“And today is actually a very special day for Gotham City, as it’s Mrs. (Y/N) Wayne’s birthday! Today, she’s thirty-two years old. We asked you all to send in your favorite pictures and videos of her and we compiled a compilation! Enjoy!”

(Y/N) groaned and took the remote from Bruce, switching the channel; he snorted. “Don’t want to see the public’s favorite?” (Y/N) shifted and glared at him.

“No. I don’t.” He chuckled again and kissed her forehead. He opened his mouth to speak when the boys came barreling into the living room.

“Here you guys are! We didn’t know where you’d went!” She turned and glanced at Dick.

“I mean, we’d have been somewhere in the manor?” He snorted, and they moved to the couch, flopping down where there was room. (Y/N) flipped over and rested her back against Bruce’s chest, and Damian crawled into her lap. Dick took Bruce’s left, Jason took his right, and Tim settled at (Y/N)’s feet.

“What are we watching?” (Y/N) flipped through the channels, and the boys called out random titles.

“The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen!”

“Don’t listen to Dick. Let’s watch The Count of Monte Cristo!”

“No one wants to watch that Jason! Let’s watch Lord of The Rings!”

“And no one wants to watch that either Drake. Umi, let’s watch Dorian Gray.” They kept arguing, and (Y/N) shouted over them.

“We’ll watch them all! Just hush!” They went silent and she nodded to Dick. “Go get the movies and we’ll start with yours.” Dick pumped his fists and went to the movie cabinet, and Alfred walked in.

“Mrs. (Y/N), what would you like for dinner?” She turned her head to him.

“Pizza.” Alfred sighed.

“I shall allow it only because it’s your birthday.” (Y/N) grinned and the TV screen went dark, indicating the movie was starting.

“Dickie, turn out the lights.” He nodded and flipped the switches before taking his seat.

After a few hours of movies, pizza, and desert ‘We’re putting thirty-two candles in the birthday cake Dickhead stop complaining about it.’, they sat on the couch full and content, and Bruce turned to her. “Did you have a good birthday Mrs. Wayne?” She nodded and pulled the ice-cream spoon from her mouth.

“The best.” Her boys started shaking their heads, and she looked at them. “What?”

“We haven’t given you your gift yet.” She sighed and spoke softly.

“Boys, I don-” Dick waved her off and motioned to Tim.

“Do you have the disc?” He nodded and got up, popping it into the DVD player, and (Y/N) watched curiously as an image cleared, revealing her boys. Dick spoke on the screen.

“Hey mom! Happy Birthday! Right now, you’re probably sitting on the couch with us, so we decided to make you something special.” Jason spoke after him.

“We know you prefer gifts from the heart, rather than store bought, so we did just that.” He looked at Tim.

“We each took the time and created a ten-minute portion in this video. You’ll see each of us on our own, then us all together at the end.” Damian nodded.

“Each of us compiled something special for you.” They smiled and Dick spoke.

“We hope you enjoy it mom.”

The screen faded, and Dick appeared on his own, and he held up a note card.

“I needed the notecard to remember the quote I wanted to tell about you mom.” He smiled and looked down. “But first I think I should tell you about my best memory of you.” He paused and sucked in a ragged breath and he looked at the camera. “I didn’t know what was going to happen to me after my birth parents died. I was…alone…and scared.” He stopped and breathed deeply. “The next thing I knew, I was in a giant manor, even more alone than I’d been left. But I wasn’t really alone.” He glanced at the camera. “You were there mom. You helped me heal…helped me realize that the world wasn’t all bad. You’ve always been there. Soon, I realized that…even though what happened to my birth parents was a tragedy…they left behind a blessing…” Dick brought a hand to his eyes and held his palms there for a few seconds before wiping them. “My mom will always be my mom in my heart. But you? You are my mom. And I love you for it.” He wiped his eyes again and looked down at the card. “I found a quote I wanted to read you.” He cleared his throat. “And she loved a little boy very, very much—even more than she loved herself.” Dick looked up at the camera and smiled brightly. “Thank you for loving me mom…And Happy Birthday.” The screen went black, and then bright again, and Jason was there; he waved.

“Hey Ma.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I’m not overly fond of performing in front of other people…as you know…but I figured that if we were making shi-stuff from the heart…I guess I can do this for you.” Jason paused and rose, picking up an acoustic guitar, and strumming a few strings. He looked at the camera, a faint red on his cheeks, and he glared slightly. “You’d better be lucky I love you Ma.” He began to strum the strings, and (Y/N) recognized it as the acoustic cover of ‘Simple Man’ by Shinedown. His voice came out, low and soft. “Mama told me when I was young. Come sit beside me, my only son. And listen closely to what I say. And if you do this it'll help you some sunny day…" He kept the song short, transitioning to the last set of verses. “Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself…Follow your heart and nothing else. And you can do this, oh baby, if you try. All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied…And be a simple kind of man. Oh, be something you love and understand. Baby be a simple kind of man. Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can…” The strumming went slower and softer, and he sang the last few verses. “Baby be a simple, really simple man. Oh, be something you love and understand. Baby, be a simple, kind of simple man.” He strummed the guitar one last time and looked at the camera. “The first time I heard that song, you were humming it to me as you took care of me one night that I had gotten sick.” Jason paused and looked down. “I’ve always tried to follow it Ma…‘cause I knew you wanted me to…And I know…I’ve made mistakes.” He stopped and wiped an eye, continuing. “But you’ve always granted me forgiveness…always said it was okay. And that’s why this quote is you.” He paused and glanced at the camera. “The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.” He grinned at the camera. “Thanks Ma…I love you…And Happy Birthday.” The screen went black once more, and Tim appeared next.

“I look a mess mom…I haven’t had my third coffee yet…so…sorry.” He laughed and continued. “I’m not Jason, so I don’t have a song for you. But I can be like Dick and give my best memory of you.” He cleared his throat. “The first time you ever called me your son was when we were at a charity gala, a few months after my dad died. And I remember thinking that I didn’t belong and that I wasn’t supposed to be there. But you stuck with me the entire night, making me feel like I did belong, even if I didn’t really think it. And I remember someone walking up and starting to interview you, and I started to walk away so I could give you privacy, and the interviewer asked something along the lines of, ‘So what’s it like to have a stranger in your home?’. And it hurt to hear that…but…” He paused and snorted. “You tore into that guy like it was no one’s business. And I mean, you ate him alive.” Tim looked at the camera. “And you marched over to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me back over and you just pointed at me and went, ‘This boy may not have come from my womb, but I love him as if he did. And if anyone calls my son a stranger again. I’ll lay their ass flat.’. Then you looked at him and went, ‘You put that in the paper you dime-a-dozen basic bitch.’.” Tim had to stop he was laughing so hard, and when he calmed down, he spoke. “It was without a doubt, the funniest thing I’d ever seen, and you stalked off with me in tow, then turned around and went, ‘Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne? You are my son. And anyone who says otherwise is a fucknut and shouldn’t be listened to. You hear me?’. And I just nodded” He paused and looked at the camera. “But that’s the day that made it all real. That it wasn’t a joke…that I wasn’t alone anymore. I had you, and Bruce, and Dick, and Alfred. But I had you. And my mother is the best woman alive.” He held up a card and read his quote. “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.” He smiled. “I love you mom…Happy Birthday.” The screen faded, and Damian appeared, sitting next to an easel.

“Umi.” He paused and picked up a set of charcoal sticks. “I’m going to draw you a picture.” That was all he said, and he got to work, occasionally glancing at the camera; his eyes moved to the easel. “Grayson said I should talk about my best memory of you. If I had to choose…it would be when you stood up to Talia and fought against her…ultimately winning.” He blew on the canvas and continued. “She stood before you and demanded me. But you refused and picked up a sword saying, ‘You won’t take my son from me Talia.’. Of course, she went into the whole spiel of, ‘He is my son. I created him.’.” Damian stopped and looked at the camera. “Then you charged at her and she met you blow for blow. But you started winning. And with every strike you spoke righteously. ‘A mother protects her children. She doesn’t use them or hurts them. A mother loves her children. She would crawl across the earth on her very stomach if it meant they would survive. A mother would stand before the jury and allow them to condemn her to die, if she knew they would live.’. Then you stopped and dealt the last strike and stood above her victoriously. ‘A mother is the first and last line of defense for her family Talia. I protect my family, come hell or high-water, and I will stand before them time and again, taking each blow.’ You pointed your sword at her. ‘Until you understand that…you will never be a mother.’. Then you took me and left.” Damian looked at the canvas and blew on it, before flipping it around, revealing a rough sketch of (Y/N). “Talia gave me life…but you have taught me to live…and have been a mother to me since I came here.” He set the canvas down and smiled. “Happy is the son whose faith in his mother remains unchallenged.” He stood. “Happy Birthday. I love you Umi.” The screen faded black, and (Y/N) thought it was over, until it lit up again and Bruce was there. He held out a few sheets of paper, then set them down.

“I was going to go off a script…but you’d rather have me wing it.” He chuckled, then his face went serious. “I’ve been alone for a long time (Y/N). After mom and dad…I closed everyone off. I kept them out…even Alfred at times. And I went about my life, hell-bent on a promise I made at eight years old.” Bruce paused. “I came back and took on my mantle…and night after night…I fought. And I started to feel like I was missing something. Then, I got this new assistant, and everything changed.” He smiled at the camera. “Eventually, she learned my secret…and I waited for her to leave. But…she didn’t…instead…she took on a mantle and fought with me.” He spoke solemnly. “She became my wife…and later…the mother of my children. She made me see that though Batman is a part of me…it isn’t who I am. I am Bruce Wayne first, husband to (Y/N) Wayne second, father to Richard John Grayson-Wayne, Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, and Damian Wayne third, son to Alfred Pennyworth fourth, and Batman fifth.” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t be the man that I am today if it wasn’t for you (Y/N). You’ve made a man remember that the world isn’t totally evil…and that it’s okay to break sometimes.” He smiled at the camera. “I love you (Y/N) Wayne.” Black colored the screen, and the boys showed up, Bruce sitting in the middle.

“Mom, we hope you enjoyed the video. And we hope you know how lucky we are to have you.”

“Ma, you mean the world to us. You bend over backwards for us.”

“Mom, you’ve saved us more times than we can count…figuratively and literally.”

“Umi…you are our defense…first…and last.”

“(Y/N). We wouldn’t be the men we are today if we didn’t have you.”

They all smiled at the camera and waved, ringing out a chorus of ‘I love you Mom/Ma/Mom/Umi! Happy Birthday!’, and ‘I love you (Y/N), Happy Birthday.’. The screen faded, indicating the end of the video, and they all turned to their mother and wife, to see her reaction. (Y/N) had her face in her hands, sobbing heart-wrenchingly, and they became concerned. “Mom? You okay?” She nodded her head, still sobbing and she reached out her hands. Slowly, the boys moved, and they tucked themselves into her arms; she squeezed as tightly as she could and held them. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough that she wasn’t sobbing loudly, and she spoke quietly.

“I love you boys.” Choruses of ‘I love you too’, came through and she pulled away, wiping her face; though the tears kept coming. “I am so proud to be your mom. I love each and everyone of you so dearly.” She paused and sucked in a breath. “This is the greatest gift I could have ever received…Thank you.” The fell into her arms again, and she felt Bruce wrap his arms around her middle, and he leaned his head next to hers. He whispered softly.

“I love you (Y/N) Wayne.” (Y/N) felt a wave of fresh tears come around and she nodded, leaning into him.

“I love you too Bruce Wayne.” She felt his lips touch her temple and he spoke again.

“Happy Birthday (Y/N).”

858 notes · View notes

madmadmilk · 5 years

Text

Kiss Currency Part 1 | Tom Holland x Reader

Part 0 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (complete!!) >> pics not mine!

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Harrison always throws a weird-ass birthday party with a dumb-ass theme or stupid fuck challenge. Last, last time it was a “wet t-shirt” party, then a “no shirt OR no shorts” party. this year it just happens to be a “Hickey Party.” Gotta have a mark to enter, gotta cash in a kiss for a drink. JFC… Of course, you have to go, but who’s gonna give you the hickey?

Warnings: swearing, kissing, and classic cliches

Word Counting: 5K smooches

Oh my fucking god…

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” you let out a sigh, blinking rapidly as you look down. Not really very helpful cos you’re standing close enough to himthat all you can see is his goddamn chest.

Just breathe.

“You know you said that outloud, right?” the boy in front of you lets out a breathy laugh and you can see his shirt pinch as he pulls his shoulders up. He crosses his arms and you watch him flex subtly as he stifles himself.

“What?!”your head finally snaps up, looking at his crinkled smile and rosy cheeks.

Best friend Tom is standing in front of you in the bedroom of your apartment, mere hours from this stupid-ass birthday party.

This is not going to be easy.

He tilts his head, wrinkles still around his eyes and a big, dumb, boyish grin on his face,

“Sssoo, where do you want it?”

God.

This wouldn’t be easy because Harrison always throws some wild-ass party for his birthday-- and, yeah, it always ends up fun or funny but… This one is a little different, a little more active than the last few.

The first one you went to was a “wet t-shirt party,” show up in a white shirt and have water dumped on you at any occasion for any reason. Easy, right? And his birthday is like in the dead of summer so it makes sense. Get wet. You get it.

The next one was a “No Shirt or No Shorts” Party, kinda self explanatory. You were one of the only people who showed up with no shorts, thinking that, hey, might as well show off my better assets, right? But-- there was someone else who came with no shorts either. Tom. You knew he was best buddies with Harrison, but you never quite met him for longer than brief “hello’s,” and totally pegged him as a guy who would love to have his shirt off all hours of the day-- but, oh, he surprised everyone. Black shirt, black Calvin Klein boxers. Nothing special but he looked like a goddamn model. The connection made was that you were rocking a white crop top and pair of high-waisted gray Calvins. “Nice undies, I’m Tom,” he said. “Wanna switch?” you joked. And maybe you did, but that’s anotherstory.

Here you are today, standing alone with this guy who totally became your best friend over a pairs of swapped underwear, getting ready for a “HickeyParty.” Harrison really amped it up this year, huh?

Hoe.

The rules are that you need a hickey for entry, and new ones for drinks. Harrison would be at the door to give you a smooch if you haven’t got one already, with a red sharpie in hand so you couldn’t reuse it again. Kinda convoluted, kinda brilliant. Go wild, kids.

… but you didn’t really have anyone at the moment to adorn you with kisses, and weren’t exactly in the market to fish around. You want something noncommittal, easy, no feelings involved--

“Wheredo you want it?” Tom repeats, pulling you out and away from your circling thoughts.

A best friend to give you hickies sounds perfect, right?

“Gotta be somewhere they can see, hm?” you rationalize, looking at his neck, while you shift your weight. Music was playing from the living room, slightly muffled from a partially closed door. Perfect ambiance.

Tom nods, eyebrows hardening a bit. He sucks in a breath as he brushes some hair away from your shoulder, and pulls your top to sit properly on your shoulders. The pads of his fingers touch you lighter than air. Hm. He pokes to the right side of your neck,

“Right here then?”

You stop yourself from gulping and watch him, “Ahhh, yeah. That’s fine.”

He doesn’t raise his head up to look at you again, but you can see his eyes dart around underneath his lashes,

“Piece of cake.”

A smile cracks across your pursed lips, as you tease lightly, “You knowyou said that outloud, right?”

Thatgot him to look up, dark eyes beady and squinted, “Shut up.”

You laugh as he mopes, the red reaching his ears. You have always just assumed he was a kid who blushes easily, baring his emotions on his sleeve. At least the red looks good on him.

He leans forward, and you tilt your head up to stretch your neck. You try to stretch out the laugh too, so you don’t have to think about his warm hand holding your neck, his thumb at the base of your throat.

Tom kisses your neck gently once, and you think you hear him whisper “sorry,” but you’re trying to lose yourself in the cracks of the ceiling. There’s a lot of them. You don’t say anything.

His shaky breath tickles your neck, and it makes you hold yours in. After a few blinks, and tightening lips, you feel hislips press on your neck again. You tilt your head away from him further, scrunching your face.

He sucks on your skin, it’s sharp and short-- and it feels good?

But it’s not allowed to.

You close your eyes tight to block out the noise, but that only lets your feel his nose trace on your neck, his chin bump your collar, the sweet smelling hair on your cheek, and the stray hand holding your back-- gah!

You stifle a moan by coughing, “Ow!”

He freezes, hunching his shoulders up again. He sputters something as he leans back, wiping his lips and nose. His hand covers his expression, but his crazy brow is arched up high,

“Oh, uhm, sorry.”

You wave your hand, forcing a laugh, “Uh, no. It’s okay, uh.”

He nods, hand still by his mouth. You idly scratch the side of your neck, wondering what the new piece looks like. Good enough hopefully. Tom hasn’t said anything yet, and you well up your courage to tryand tease,

“Your turn?”

“Oh, someone’s getting a lil eager now,” andhe’s back.

“Shut it!” you squint, slapping his shoulder and taking a step closer to him.

His hands come up and hovers over your hip for a second, but falls back to his sides. You pull at bottom of his t-shirt sleeve,

“So, where do you--?”

“Where ever you want, babe.”

Babe.

You look at him and those chocolatey browns are fixed on your neck, looking down at his work on your neck. He bites his lips together, and his eyes snap back to yours.

Oof.

He’s so impossible.

You glance towards his neck, and god, this is soclose,

“Well… I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea-- so, it should be somewhere else,” you gingerly hold his chin, moving him side to side, “The opposite sides would make it look like we did it to each other, but the same side would look too matchy-- and anywhere else--”

“Here is fine,” Tom pulls the neck of his shirt lower, pointing to his left collar. He taps on his bone, “Here.”

You shake your head, making faces to calm your nerves, “Cool.” You step forward, and he doesn’t, making you come closer to him, “Mind if i-- I have to hold--”

“It’s okay.”

In the corners of your vision you see him nod, biting a smile. You hold his shoulder with your right hand, and your left smooths up his shirt to the back of his neck. You mouth “ah, sorry,” but are sure he doesn’t see.

Cool, cool.

You shut your overanalyzing eyes and lean forward. You don’t give a warning kiss like he did, if that’s what it really was at all, and immediately suckle on his skin. He flinches and lets out a cough too.

Ohh…

You pull on his skin, and your tongue may or may not have made an appearance. His hand smoothing up your back reminds you that, hey, hello? Stop!

“Uhm!” you step back, wiping away at your lip quickly. Your eyes are fixed on the blotch youleft on his collar.

His arm twitches up to touch it, but he stops himself. He smiles stuffing his hands in his dark jeans, “Hm? How’s it look?”

You tilt your head from either side, warm blood rushing to your face making you frazzled,

“Good?”

Tom rolls his eyes back, walking towards you. He easily throws an arm around your shoulders and you try not to stiffen. You quietly hug around his waist back and he guides you to your bathroom, “Let’s have a look.”

You both step in and bump hips and wiggle until he switches the lights on. Your eyes take a second to adjust to the yellowed light and zero in on the kisses.

The one on your neck is a dainty purply mark.

His is a fearsome splotch.

“Not bad,”

Tom finds your eyes in the mirror and smiles stupidly,

“I like it.”

Heat rises to your cheeks as you shake your head rubbing your mark unconsciously.

A wholenight of this?

How will you survive??

He pulls at a strand of your hair, making you laugh and scrunch your nose. At least he’s making light out of it,

“You’re soannoying, Tom.”

You miss the way he looks at you as you move past him.

It’s kinda funny how you totally can’t feel a hickey after it’s been set. You don’t even remember you have it until you take glances in the mirror-- and bam! it’s still there, baby.

You get ready quickly, Tom watches something on your laptop in the other room. He gets your idea of space really well.

“Okay, so-- I’ll go in first and then you--”

“Yeah, I’ll come in a few minutes after,” he confirms as you slide into the Lyft together. His hand bumps into yours for a second before you slide all the way to the other seat, “Don’t worry, no one will suspect a thing.”

Tom shoots you a confident smile, and you wink back at him before looking ahead.

There’s a little bit of guilt itching in the back of your throat, it’s not that you don’t don’t want people to know that Tom brandished you with this lovely kiss, but-- you can’t remember if he’s looking for anything right now? Like? Are you… in the cards? The game? or? And i mean, you’re never not looking for love, but uh-- he’s justa friend.

A goodone.

The Lyft drops you off at a corner, and Tom pulls out his phone while he leans on a wall, you turn to wave at him,

“Seeya.”

He grabs your hand, unexpectedly and gives you a gentle squeeze,

“I’ll catch you in a few.”

You laugh, squeezing back. His face is a little tense, but you reply with ease,

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

Hm?

He doesn’t turn away until you turn and walk briskly to the scene of the party. You can feel a stray stare trace up you.

What’s up with that?

“Heeeyyy, baby,” Harrison greets you at the top of the stairs with a big hug. You can see three hickies on him straight away. He spills his drink by your side as you shake each other. He pulls away and you see bright and excited baby blues,

“Now, lemme see.”

You laugh, pushing him away, “You serious?”

He shrugs, throwing his hands up as more drink falls to the floor, “My birthday, my rules.”

You nod, rolling your eyes. You flick your hair away, and tilt your neck to show it to him. His eyes widen, “Daaaaaaaaaaamn. Okay. I see you.”

You shake your head, “Shut up, Harrison. I can get it.”

He raises his brows and cocks his pretty head. He makes a clicking sound and your mouth falls open in offense. He raises his arms up, “Sorry, i’m just saying, I haven’t seen you mingle with anyone in like 3 years, so-- I’m wondering what-- who? Gave this to ya--”

He licks a finger,

“And if it’s realat all--”

He roughly wipes it on your neck.

“Hey!” you pout as he looks down at his finger. Nothing he was looking for apparently.

“Well, fuck me-- You’ve done it,” he laughs, coming in to hug you again, “Whodid it?”

You knock your head on his lightly, “As if i’d tell you now.” you elbow his chest and laugh together. You smile at him, he’s well over by now.

You both look behind you, a line of people waiting to get in pass the “check.” you both chuckle together, and you’re kinda shocked everyone followed through-- No Tom yet though.

Harrison hangs his head and gestures, “Well, if you needanything else, I got you.” He makes a kissy face towards you. He grabs the bottom of your chin and moves your head to see the spot again. You feel the cold marker slash across it.

Thorough.

You close your eyes for a second and then slap his cheek. You pinch it and lean in to plant a soft peck on his other cheek,

“Happy birthday, Haz.”

He laughs, rocking back on his heels as he crossing his arms in front of him,

“I’ll find out who did you.”

You smile patting the side of your hip as you move past him,

“Have fun.”

You spend your time waiting, since you can’t even get a drink without another hickey-- you realize didn’t actually plan this that well. Were you and Tom like… exclusive for the night? Or… is this a free for all now? And… why the fuckdidn’t you guys pregame???

You bump into a few friends and they’re all poking and prodding and wondering who gave you the damning mark. Have you really been out of the game for that long? They don’t even offer one to get you a drink. How do they know you so well?

There’s a ruckus by the front entrance, lots of hollering and everyone crowded around. You hear a familiar laugh and make you way through--

Tom!

You see him, and even though you were with him a few minutes ago-- he looks completely different. He’s laughing so wide, so comfortably. He looks cool and confident and charming in the low light, and you watch as he throws a heavy arm around Harrison.

They do a handshake that you never seem to remember, and Harrison asks him for the hickey ticket. Tom pulls is collar down to show him your mark and Haz laughs,

“Monstrous, man, who the fuck gave you that, eh?”

“Can’t say,” Tom cheers as Haz marks it off.

“And will there be more?”

“Many, manymore,” he cheekily replies, taking Harrison’s beer and guzzling it. Your hand comes up to scratch your neck. You feellike everyone’s looking at you, but no one really is.

“Shut up, I’ll take a shot for each one you get,” the taller boy jeers, “Easy.”

Tom shrugs, “Get fucked then. Happy Birthday, Haz.”

They hug again, and Harrison gives him a hard slap on his back as he passes. Everyone cheers at Tom, and you hear a few, “Let’s give Tom a kiss” and “Oohh, where’s your babe, Tom” amongst the clamor. He raises his hands in defense,

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Tom makes his way over to you, bumping fists and giving half-hugs along the path. His eyes don’t waver away from yours, but your stomach settles oddly.

Your first fear isn’t about how many kisses you’regonna give him, but how many others will too?

Am I allowed to think he’s mine?

I mean, just for tonight?

Obviously.

Just for tonight.

Tom finds you quickly, sitting on the armrest of a couch with some friends scattered about. He greets you, “hello” with a wink and small hug.

Hm?

Gotta play it like you’re seeing each other for the first time tonight. Right.

Your eyes quickly scan his neck, looking for more kisses, but only find yours peeking from his shirt. He does the same, and you don’t notice until he brushes your hair past. He teases,

“Who gave you that?”

You give him a weird look, wanting to call him a dipshit, but you realize it’s just for show. Your friends lean in waiting for an answer. You were in a bit of a compromised spot, almost between his legs as he interrogates you, pressing, “Won’t you tell us?”

You purse your lips then smile wryly, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I’m asking, love.”

“From a secret admirer,” you laugh, pulling your shoulder up to press it against your cheek. You fan your lashes at him, “So I can’t, in good conscience, say who.”

Tom takes your hands and presses them to his hips, surprising you. He whispers real low,

“I could admire you in secret if you want.”

A friend or two shriek behind you, which is good cos it covers up your gasp with your mouth agape. You slap his arm and he laughs while hugging you. You playfully hit his back as you swim in his cologne.

For fucks sake, Tom.

You can hear your friends behind you, “Cash in the kiss for Tommo! Do it!” Lol they don’t even assume that he’s the one who gave you the first one-- good, right?

“Well, I’m going to go look for someone who willkiss me,” Tom taps your knee as he walks away, “You got my number.” He points at your phone, mouthing, “check,” to you.

Before you can react or spit out a witty reply, a friend pulls you from behind, and into the couch prodding you with even more questions as you watch Tom disappear into the crowd. Your stomach settles oddly as you friends fawn over the interaction.

Hm.

Your phone vibrates and you sit up, checking it while blocking off the onlookers.

Tom: meet me upstairs, second room on the left

You let out a short sigh of relief.

Haha.

You message that you’d meet him in a few, cautious at every step. When everybody got into busier conversations with one another, you ducked away in search of the stairs, only to find that there were two sets on opposite sides so it would be impossible to know which room he meant--

“Hey! In here!” his head peaked out from on of the rooms. You laugh and run over, checking over your shoulder. Coast was clear.

You jump into the room and he locks the door. You hop over to the bed and fall back onto the cool sheets. Your legs dangle over the edge.

Tom walks up and laughs, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm!” you cheer, sitting up on your elbows as you look at him. He’s rubbing the back of his neck. You tilt your head again, “‘Heard the bet you made with Haz.”

He shrugs spinning before falling back on the bed with you, “Go big or go home.”

You turn to face him, your legs curling up on the bed and he turns his head to you too. You’re so close that you couldjust look up and kiss him on the lips. Instead, you just smile and whisper,

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

He doesn’t reply, maybe taken aback, but you can’t tell. His eyebrows knit a little and he frowns a bit. You bump his knee with yours,

“I’m kidding. I’m in. Let’s sink the fucker.”

Tom face lights up, and he smiles slowly. Maybe you don't’ realize the gravity of the situation, or you really do want him only to yourself, but yea you really don’t mind sneaking away and marking the brunette as yours.Anonymously. Kind of.

“Well first, let’s get a few of our own shots,” he hums, he taps your shoulder, “I’ll do you.”

You snort, “Mhm. As opposed too--?”

Tom sits up and he’s straddling the sides of your hips, looming over you with a fucking grin. He peels his shirt of and lays it next to you, flashing those shiny abs at you, and you choke,

“Uhm, excuseme?”

“It’s easier this way.”

“For who???!!”

“C’mon you can’t say you don’t enjoy the view,” he laughs, crouching lower till his face hovers over yours. You’re suddenly super aware of every part of your body, cos it wants to be all up and over him so badly--

You fake a pout, but just lift your top just a bit, only until the bottom of your bust. You quietly arch your back but turn your cheek away from him, “That’s allyou get.”

Tom’s hands are on either side of your head and he looks down, brown waves hanging in front of your face. God, why does he always smell so good? He lets out a breathy laugh again,

“It’s more than enough, babe,” he scoots himself down, “So it’s alright if I--?”

You let out a hum, holding your breath again and shutting your eyes.

Cold hands move up from your hips to your ribs and he kisses your stomach, before pressing his lips into your side, sucking sharply. You hear a wet smacking sound and a muffled laugh. You throw your hands over your face, trying not to think about his palm prints burning into your skin. He kisses you maybe 3 times? Your upper left rib, your right side, and somewhere on your right hip-- then he moves up.

You can feel the shadow he casts over you and you peek between your arms. He’s smiling softly, but a bright burning red. His lips look a little swollen and pink. He laughs, “One more?”

“Where?” you voice comes out as a croak, how long have you laid there? Your arms fall over your head, and you leave them there.

Tom pokes beside the mark he left in the earlier afternoon, and mumbles, “Here. please.”

You nod.

He licks his lips before ducking down, and this time, he kisses the base of your neck softly. Then he kisses the spot he poked, then he kisses it again and your arms come down to wrap around his neck, brushing through his hair. You’re only doing this to steady yourself, okay?

Tom lets out a low moan and then breath and he kisses your skin deeply, pulling tight. You let out a sharp gasp, “Tom!”

He doesn’t stop like he did before, and when he finishes he rests his head against your cheek for a second. He’s kinda sweaty, but so are you. You feel his body rise and fall under your arms and realize you’re both almost panting.

You unlace your arms from his neck and he sits up, hair in disarray. He hops off from your hips and sits at the edge of the bed, slouched a little. You watch his broad back heave and he looks back with blurry eyes,

“Made it look like it was from a different person, ‘s that alright?”

You catch your breath, weakly sitting up, “Yeah, uhm, perfect.”

Looking forward, you see there’s a mirror, and through your dry contacts you see his body angled towards you. The hand covering over his thigh. You see yourself, two foreign marks on your neck all from the same person. You refocus on the real Tom, seeing him with his brows raised. Your heart skips when he speaks, “My turn?”

You laugh sitting up on your knees and crawling towards him. You’re squarely behind him, two hands on his shoulders, you squeeze them gently. In a psuedo-professional voice you ask, “How many would you like, sir?”

You look at him in the mirror again and he looks back at you with a tired half pulled grin. He turns to your hands and bites a finger on his shoulder, “As many as you’ll give me!”

You yelp, pulling your hand away and laughing, he puts you at ease so quickly. He faces forward again, and you crouch down, your thumbs digging into his bare back. You close your eyes and let your lips choose where to go.

You give him a soft hickey on the lower side of his neck. He leans back to give you better access. You curl around him and kiss the side of his shoulder a little harder. He lets out a gritted sigh. Maybe you accidentally clawed his back but-- it was an accident.

Tom pulls up one leg onto the bed, so that you could see his whole torso. One hand propped him up and the other laid on his thigh, but not for long.

You leaned over to him, one hand still on his shoulder, you other on his thigh to steady yourself. You kiss sharply at his collar bones, and chest, and his wary hand reaches up to tangle into your hair, holding you gently against him.

You let out a hum as he pulls your hair. In a way that’s totally friendly, you laid a smacking kiss on his nipple, making him jump. You kiss under it, leaving a bruising hickey. He rubs your head and you lean your forehead against his hard pecs--

“Oh my god…” you mumble, peeking up at him.

His whole chest and and neck and face and ears are flushed. His lips are parted and glossy. He rubs the back of your head one more time before dropping it with a smack to his thighs.

You sit back, wiping your lips with the back of your hand, speaking quietly, “Uh, that should be enough…”

He wipes his mouth too, clearing his throat. He turns to face the mirror again, goes to try to stand up but then sits back down. He slouches and turns his neck around in the mirror. He jokes,

“What’s the damage?”

You hop off the bed, your legs a little wobbly. You move towards him, and gingerly touch his shoulder, he’s radiating heat like a sunburn. You poke softly,

“1… 2, 3, 4… 5, 6… 7… and 8.”

You feel the heat in your cheeks and your heart in your throat as you laugh nervously.

Tom beams looking up at you. He grabs your hand by your side and holds it gently,

“Haz is gonna die tonight if you keep this up.”

“And?” you tease, bumping his leg with yours as you sway, “And how are you holding up?”

His hands swings with yours, “And this might be the death of me, honestly.”

You laugh and pull you hand out to stretch over your head. You spin and move towards the door,

“Pretty words, Tom. I’ll meet you down in a few.”

You send him a dazzling smile, leaving him to fall back on the bed.

You miss the moment he curls up in the spot you left, rubbing his cheek in your waning scent.

And you miss the words he let hang in the air,

“But I’m not joking.”

A/N: Just a good old self-contained story :)) but idk how to write a full plot below 10K so luckily or unluckily, there will be one more part!!! and maybe a prequel with the “no shirt or no shorts” party if u ask >:) soooo let me know what you think! i’m nervous so show your appreciation or something! Like! Reblog! comment! share! send asks, and let me know if you like, love it or hate it!!!

see you guys soon 🙌🏼

much love,

madmadmilk

#i'm packing as many pick up punch lines as i can in here lol #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland story #madmadmilk #madmadthirst #kiss currency #tom holland writing #idk i can't remember what other tags i usually use lol #tom holland fics #tom holland x you #tom holland you

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trvelyans-archive · 4 years

Text

for @goblin-deity, pollux and ortega being cute via text because writing fics that include text conversation is my fave thing ever <3 i hope you enjoy this lovely owen !!!

---

It’s rainy season in Los Diablos, and today is no exception. Occasionally a gust of wind sends the tools on your shelves rattling, and though the sound of you working on your armor drowns out the worst of the noise, it’s hard to ignore the constant flickering of the albeit dim overhead lights and the creaking of your base around you, threatening to collapse underneath the pressure of the wind and rain at any second.

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead, and examine your handiwork. It’s been a learning experience to figure out how to repair your own armor – there’s a million different components to consider – but you’re definitely starting to get a better hang of it, and it looks almost just as good as it would if Mortum had done it. You lean down to pick up your wrench again when you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket and you stick a hand inside to fish it out. Of course it’s Ortega, and of course he sent you five messages in a row without realizing how irritating that is. You frown and stand up, opening your phone as you pad towards your workbench, hoisting yourself on top of it as you read.

Ortega: Hey, Pollux, what are you doing tonight?

Lux?

If you’re alive, blink twice.

Sorry, that was supposed to be a joke but you probably won’t find it funny.

Anyway, text me when you get these. I’m trying to be rational but I’m also 50% convinced your lying in a ditch somewhere so… yeah. Give me a call, will you?

You bite your lip, quickly typing out a response you hope will annoy him and hitting send.

You: *you’re

You’re about to put your phone down and get back to work when Ortega replies.

Ortega: Hey :)

You: You’re just going to ignore me correcting your spelling like that?

Ortega: I don’t really care. How are you? Are you okay?

Before you can reply, another couple messages come in. You roll your eyes as you read them, biting back the smile spreading across your face.

Ortega: Love you.

Hope you’ve been doing well.

You: You’re turning into such a romantic.

Ortega from eight years ago wouldn’t believe this with his own eyes.

Ortega: He was a self-absorbed jackass.

You: You’re saying that like you aren’t still a self-absorbed jackass.

Ortega: I like to think I’m less of both, but fair enough, I guess. How are you, really?

You: Busy.

Ortega: Mmmm. I love it when you talk dirty.

You: I’m going to throw my phone into the ocean.

Ortega: No, I was just kidding!

You: What if I did it anyway?

Ortega: :(

You laugh, running a hand through your hair and pulling it out of its ponytail as you tap out another response.

You: I won’t for now. Did you have a reason for annoying me today or were you just bored?

Ortega: Are you ever going to stop being so caustic?

You: Ooo, fancy word. Did you have to look up synonyms for ‘asshole’ to find it, or…

Ortega: That’s not what I meant, and that’s also not what I thought it meant. My aunt said it to my mom a couple weeks ago and I’ve been trying to work it into conversation.

You: You’re hopeless.

Ortega: Hopelessly in love with you, maybe.

Groaning, you consider smashing your phone with a hammer, or perhaps dousing it in acid, but instead decide to give in and play whatever game he’s secretly challenging you to. You’ll get the best of him. You always do.

Most of the time, anyway.

Besides, if you don’t have a phone to text him with, he’ll probably end up tracking you down and kidnap you to his apartment to play board games and eat cheese bread and watch movies. At least talking on the phone staves off his undying desire for quality time a little.

Not that you’re entirely opposed to it, but… you have better things you could be doing. Like right now, for instance. Your villain armor is hanging open in your workshop, begging you to crawl inside and fine-tune the HUD, and instead you’re wiping your fingers on a dirty rag so you don’t get oil on your phone screen when you message Ortega back.

You: Shut up.

Or I’ll throw my phone out.

Ortega: You keep saying that, and yet here you are, still texting me…

You: Do you want me to do it, then?

Ortega: No, of course not.

Sometimes it feels like we talk in circles. We had this conversation already. Let’s move on to another one! :)

What are you doing tonight?

You: Being busy.

Ortega: Creative excuse, I like it.

Seriously, though. You have any plans?

You: Depends who’s asking.

Ortega: ???

You: I know it’s you texting me, idiot. It’s just a thing that people say.

Ortega: Oh, I thought…

Sorry. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Are you going to answer my question?

You: I’m doing nothing tonight.

Ortega: Do you mean actually nothing or nothing you’re going to tell me about?

You: Neither. Both. Get to the point.

Ortega: You should come over.

You keep telling me you’re busy lately, and I get that – well, I don’t, not really, but I pretend to so I don’t piss you off – but I miss you.

I’ll pay for the cab.

You: Have you looked outside, Ortega?

Ortega: I have a change of clothes here at my house with your name on it.

You: I bet you bought the wrong size.

Ortega: I didn’t.

I asked Argent what size she thought you were and got it. They’re PJs, and they’re comfy, I promise. I’m pretty sure they’re silk, but don’t quote me on that.

They have little lightning bolts on them.

I thought you’d look cute wearing them.

;)

You: Don’t tell me you got me fluffy socks too…

Ortega: I was tempted, but you’d probably end up tripping on them.

You: Asshole.

Ortega: I just mean because your feet are so small!

You: Still, asshole.

Ortega: Come on, Pollux. I bet hanging out at my place would be better than doing nothing wherever you are…

(Where are you???)

You: Did you get yourself a pair of matching PJs?

You wait for half a minute before Ortega starts typing again. It’s a picture this time, though, not a text, and even though it’s about as blurry as a picture could be, you can faintly make out the tight lightning-bolt printed shirt he’s wrangled over his shoulders.

What an idiot. What a dork. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst open in your chest and you clear your throat to compose yourself even though he isn’t even around to notice.

Asshole.

You: You just put mine on, didn’t you?

Ortega: Maybe. I’ll wear the top, you wear the bottoms. Sound like a plan?

You: You’re not going to convince me that easy.

Ortega: Okay, fine. You wear the top, I’ll wear the bottoms. Or I’ll wear none. Or we can both wear none. Is that better?

You: Go to Hoots or something if you’re this horny.

Ortega: Jeez, way to just come out and say it like that!

You: You’re not denying it.

Ortega: I didn’t care to. That’s not why I texted you, though.

That’s just an added bonus.

You: There was a perfect opportunity for a joke in there.

Ortega: I know, and I almost said it, but I thought maybe you’d kill me through the screen.

You: I’m tempted anyway, so that couldn’t have made it much worse.

Ortega: Is there anything I can say to convince you to come over?

You lean back against the wall and tap your tongue against the roof of your mouth, thinking it over. You’ve done a lot of work today, all things considered, and you could use a break.

You: I don’t know. What do you think?

Ortega: Maybe I could send you a picture?

You let out a huff of breath and squirm slightly where you sit, flattening your hand against your thigh as you consider your reply.

You: Don’t tell me you’re just going to find a picture on the internet and send it to me…

Ortega: I’m perfectly proud of what I’m packing, thank you very much.

Besides, you’d know if it wasn’t mine. Don’t think I forgot the good look you took at it last time you saw it…

;)

You: Those are some big words, Ricardo…

Ortega: I can let you in on a couple other big things.

You: Ugh. Smug asshole.

You grit your teeth.

Imagine if Tia Elena heard you talking like this.

Ortega: Please don’t bring up Mama when I’m trying to sext you.

You: I thought you were trying to get me to come over.

Ortega: I was, but I didn’t think you were going to change your mind.

Are you?

You: Maybe if you convince me.

Ortega: Do you want my face in the picture?

You let out a laugh and hop down from the workbench, carefully tip-toeing around the scattered tools on the ground as you head for the rickety couch in the corner of the room with your eyes trained on your phone.

You: Like you could bend like that, old man.

Ortega: I could for you.

You: I don’t want your broken back or your hospital bills on my conscience. You gonna send the picture or not?

Ortega: Mmm. Impatient, are we?

You: If you’re not going to send it I can just get back to work…

Ortega: No, no, I’ll send it, hang on.

You wait impatiently with his chat screen open as you settle in on the couch, ignoring the temptation to start rubbing your thighs together. You’re not pathetic enough to start getting yourself off before Ortega even sends a picture, and you’re not even sure if it’s going to be good enough to get you horny, too, so you don’t want to warm yourself up for nothing.

It’s weird how normal it’s become to have this sort of relationship with Ortega. When you were Sidestep, you dreamt about it too much and too strongly to be anything but embarrassed by it, and now that it’s real you can barely believe it sometimes. Sure, things have changed – you’ve changed, too, more than anything – but you can’t deny that it makes you feel a little bit like your younger self. What you could’ve been, maybe.

What you can’t be anymore. But you’re going to push those thoughts out of your head right now.

You zoned out staring at the wall, and when your phone buzzes in your hand you practically jump half a foot in the air. You’re still not used to someone having such easy access to talking to you, and you’re certainly not used to having your phone on vibrate (you had it on mute for a long time before Ortega called you drunk and on the verge of tears one night thinking you had died because you didn’t answer). You take a breath before looking down at the screen and yup, there it is, Ortega’s cock in high definition.

Ortega: You like?

;)

You definitely do, but you didn’t have enough time to appreciate it.

You: The picture is good but your follow-up messages basically just turned me completely off.

Ortega: :(

You’re kidding, right? It took me so long to take that picture.

You: Don’t want it all to be for nothing?

Ortega: I do text my mom with this phone, you know.

Jesus, why am I talking about my mom when I’m trying to jack off?

You’re killing me, Pollux.

Don’t you know it.

You take a longer look at the picture before replying. At the bottom of the screen, you can just make out Ortega’s hand wrapped around himself, and you know for a fact it’s just because he wants to show off how big his cock is in comparison to his fingers. You stifle a smile and bite your lip, giving in and sliding a hand in between your legs. You don’t move it, and you don’t take your pants off or anything, either. You just leave it there, waiting, wondering.

You: Send a video?

Ortega: Christ. Okay.

Gimme a minute.

You: Mmm.

Ortega: Don’t send me that ‘mmm’. I’m trying to save myself for when you come over.

You: Oh, you think I’m coming over now, do you?

Ortega: Definitely. Wait until you hear the noises I’m making in this video if you’re not already convinced.

You: Are you done?

Ortega: Yeah, I’m just watching it again to make sure it’s good.

You: Jesus.

Ortega: I want to make sure it gets you going!

You: Using the exclamation point made it 100% less likely for you to ‘get me going’.

Ortega: You’re mean.

Here I am baring my soul for you and you don’t even care.

You: I care about this video you haven’t sent yet.

Ortega: It’s sending! It’s very long.

You: …

Ortega: I meant the video.

You: Sure you did.

Your phone buzzes as the video finally comes in and you look at the door to your workshop to make sure it’s closed and locked. You don’t know who would come in, but whoever they could be you want to make sure they can’t. You turn your volume all the way up and sink lower against the arm of the couch, turning up your phone brightness until the reflected light of Ortega’s virtual cock slants against the wall behind you.

It’s an obscene video, of course. If he sent this to his mother she’d probably exorcise him, but you enjoy it, in any case. It feels a little stupid, though, to hear him whispering your name into his phone’s speaker, to hear the crackling of the recording as you hold your phone closer to your face to get a better look at it. It’s a good video – you’re not denying that – but it certainly isn’t as efficient as it would be for you to just… go over, maybe, and see it all in person.

Ortega: Did it send?

You: Yeah.

Ortega: Well?

You: You said you’ll pay for the cab?

Ortega: Pollux, I’d pay for a private jet if that’s what it took for you to come over right now.

You glance at the clock on the wall. If you call a cab now, you can be at Ortega’s in 45 minutes.

You: I’ll be there in an hour.

Ortega: :(

Well I’ll be waiting. Should I put my clothes back on?

You: You took ALL your clothes off?

Ortega: …

I was excited.

You: Hmm.

Ortega: Pollux…

No. Leave them off.

Ortega: Your wish is my command.

But hurry, please.

You lock the door to your workshop behind you as you rush to change into something a little cleaner before the cab gets here. A black hoodie with a blue long-sleeve t-shirt underneath, some loose sweatpants that you don’t bother tying up all the way. You’ll be lucky if you even have time to stumble to his bedroom and take your clothes off when you finally get there, to be honest. You’re probably barely going to be able to make it through the front door.

You hurry to climb inside the cab when it arrives, and you swear nothing in the world has ever felt longer than the ride to Ortega’s.

#this was so fuckin fun ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #i hope you like this owen it was so fun to write actually #i wanna write more text fics now i always forget how much i like them #anyway #my writing #chargestep

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ikonsmut · 5 years

Text

NSFW alphabet | SONG

A - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

yunhyeong doesn’t have a preferred method of aftercare, he just loves to be babied after sex. if you’re feeling up to it, a hot bath together is his favorite way to wind down. on the other hand, laying in bed and softly singing to you while you play with his hair is pretty nice too

B - body part (their favorite body part of their partners)

your lips! he’ll stare at them whenever you talk, brush his thumb along them, but nothing beats kissing them (・ε・｀)

C - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he doesn’t like to make a mess, so he prefers to cum inside of you. yunhyeong also likes to cum on your tummy, especially if you let him snap a picture of it afterwards

D - dirty secret (self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he has no idea how to bring it up, but he really wants to have a threesome with you and one of his members (chanwoo, probably). something about watching one of his friends fuck you, or fucking you at the same time, turns him on so much

E - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

85% porn, 15% firsthand experience. he’s not a virgin, but that doesn’t automatically make him a sex god either. it might take him some time to figure out what makes you feel good, but he’s a very attentive and dedicated lover, so it won’t take him too long to get into the swing of things

F - favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary is what’s comfortable for him, so he usually sticks with that. plus, he loves looking into your eyes, and kissing you, both of which he can do in this position

G - goofy (are they more serious in the moment, are they humorous, etc)

he prefers to keep the mood light, so if he feels like you’re being too serious, he’ll do anything to make you smile again. be prepared for some lame jokes out of nowhere; even if they make you roll your eyes, it’s impossible not to smile

H - hair (how well groomed are they, etc)

1/3 borderline bare. yunhyeong takes grooming more seriously than the others, and if he goes some time without shaving, he feels unkempt

I - intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

he. is. so. romantic. he makes it a point to show you just how much he loves you, from his sharp thrusts to his slow kisses to the way he looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes. he isn’t afraid to go all out with candles and soft music, either. it can be a lot sometimes but he means well

J - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

this used to be his favorite pastime, one of his favorite hobbies, but he’s cut back significantly since you came into the picture. of course, he’ll still touch himself if he’s bored or missing you (which is often), but you’ve pretty much ruined his hand for himself

K - kink (one or more of their kinks)

he isn’t afraid to drop a bag on some expensive lingerie for you. it makes him proud when you wear it, especially with just one of his shirts on-top. even better? fucking you while your body is covered in lace, and the feeling of the material against his skin

L - location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere and everywhere. he loves the thrill of having sex where he shouldn’t be, which means there’s been more than a few escapades in the bathroom of some bar, in a fitting room, even in someone else’s bedroom during a party

M - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

this goes hand-in-hand with kink; wearing your lingerie underneath one of his shirts is the best way to turn him on. teasing him a little bit, like bending over so that your undies are on display or constantly touching him, and he won’t think twice about taking right then and there

N - no (something they wouldn’t do)

nothing involving bodily fluids. that’s just… not his thing. it’s too messy for his liking, and he doesn’t care for the possibly degrading part of it

O - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he’s a bit insecure about his oral skills. he would much rather be on the receiving end of things, but if you ask him, he’ll waste no time getting in between your thighs. like with penetrative sex, he needs a minute to figure things out, but he won’t stop until you’re shaking and begging for him to

P - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

yunhyeong’s thrusts are slow but they’re rough. just enough to have your head spinning, but not enough for you to finally fall over the edge he’s got you teetering on. his hips speed up when he gets close, though, so you don’t have to worry about being on that edge for very long

Q - quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

quickies happen frequently with yunhyeong, he loves them. he doesn’t have the time for proper sex everytime he’s horny, so he’s not going to pass up any opportunity to be with you, even if it’s only for fifteen minutes. he’s pretty good at them, too; he manages to be his usual, sappy self while still getting you both to release in the short amount of time he’s given

R - risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

public sex is one of the biggest risks he’s willing to take. he’s willing to try anything you bring up to him, as long as it’s within reason. there’s a few things he’s not comfortable with, so he’ll quickly shut that idea down before explaining why and maybe even suggesting something to try instead

S - stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

he doesn’t last very long, but is usually good for two rounds, sometimes more. if you didn’t cum, don’t worry, he’s already ready to go again!!

T - toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

only one, which is a pair of handcuffs he bought you as a joke. well, it started off as a joke, until he got inspired by porn one night and decided it was time to finally put them to use. they don’t get used very often, because he loves to feel your hands trailing all over his body, but they’re the only one he can see himself using

U - unfair (how much they like to tease)

it depends. he’s not going to lay there and tease your for hours, because that’s a waste of time he could be spending inside of you, but if you’re sexting? he’ll become the biggest tease you’ve ever met. texts about how badly he wants to taste you, or how pretty you would look sucking him off, and sometimes a picture that’s naughtier than his texts, especially when you’re in public or with your friends

V - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

yunhyeong’s moans are so god damn loud. your neighbors always know when he’s over, not that their noise complaints quiet him down in the slightest. when he’s close, his moans turn into a desperate whine

W - wildcard (random headcanon)

he’s the type to randomly smack your ass. when you decided to get your revenge, spanking him out of the blue, neither of you expected his reaction… a loud, undeniable moan. he still gets annoyed whenever you bring it up, insisting he only made that noise because he was surprised, but we all know the truth. yunhyeong likes to be spanked

X - xray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

yunhyeong is average; about 5 inches, not too thick, enough to get the job done and then some

Y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

ridiculously high! everyday, multiple times a day is his tempo, so good luck keeping up with him. he’s gotten better about ignoring his urges, but the excitement of being with you keeps him on edge and eager for the next time he can see you

Z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it takes him quite some time to calm down after sex, anywhere from an hour to three. he’s not hyper afterwards, but he isn’t going to let you fall asleep until he’s ready. he likes to talk about anything and everything, or watch netflix, or sing to you. this time is almost as intimate as the actual sex

#song smut #yunhyeong smut #ikon smut #i hate this #admin kc

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kimjongdaely · 6 years

Text

Ninth [Chapter 11]

Superpower!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Warning: Language

Summary: Seven supernatural beings are captured and imprisoned in the governments’ most secure and secretive department. The eighth is on the loose and agents are hot on his tail. What they don’t know is that there’s a ninth member that has never appeared in any records, and you are in charge of finding him.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8│Chapter 9│Chapter 10│Chapter 11│ Chapter 12│Epilogue

You stare at the Leader in absolute horror. It feels as if time had stopped, your mind completely blank.

You point your gun at him again, your hands shaking. Sehun, Baekhyun and Jongdae back up beside you, watching him with cautious eyes. There’s a crazed smile on the Leader’s face, his eyes gleaming. “Give it up. You can’t kill me.”

“What did you do to him?” You manage to find your voice, though it’s trembling so terribly. “What did you do to Yixing?”

“He’s fine.” He reassures, though it does little to settle you. “But not for long. Once I deal with you, I’ll destroy him along with the rest of the Eight.”

Jongdae growls, lighting flashing through the room, zapping through the air at incredible speeds at they race towards the Leader. They hit, searing his flesh and the Leader yelps in pain. He curls in on himself, but a moment later he’s whole again, unhurt.

Again he laughs, the sound even more terrifying than it was just a moment ago. “Well? Are we just going to stand here all day trying to kill me? You three know,” his eyes flick over to Sehun, Jongdae and Baekhyun, “that no matter what powers you use, I will never die.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking desperately for a way out. It’s only a matter of time before he zeroes in on you, and since he can’t get injured, the battle will be very one-sided in his favor. You need to get out, now.

“Baekhyun,” you murmur under your breath, “blind him.”

Baekhyun lets out the smallest of nods, concentrating his power—until the air flickers and three familiar forms appears behind the Leader. “Stop!”

It’s Yixing’s voice. Your heart hammers as you blink, trying to make sure you’re really seeing this. He’s here. He looks exhausted, but mostly uninjured and you breathe out in relief.

He’s safe for now.

He’s here.

You missed him.

The Leader turns, his eyes narrowing for a moment before a wide grin appears on his face. “Well, well. So you made it out. But what can you do without your powers?”

“Stop.” Yixing’s voice is soft but firm. You’ve never seen him like that before, his eyes hard as he steps towards the Leader. “Any longer, and you’ll die.”

The Leader laughs, throwing his head back. “Don’t try to scare me, boy. This power will only heal me, not kill me.”

“You don’t understand.” Yixing sounds almost desperate now. “You need to give me the Orb back.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” The Leader’s eyes flash, and he grabs a gun from the weapon-rack. He points it towards Yixing, unhesitating.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself at him just as he fires the gun. You watch in horror as the bullet scrapes Yixing’s neck, but leaves him otherwise unharmed. You crash into the floor with the Leader.

You gasp out in relief, so glad you made it in time.

“Get off me!” The Leader bellows, his voice resonating through your being. He grabs your arm, so tightly you wince, flipping you over and slamming you into the floor. You yelp in pain, feeling your head crack at the impact, a splitting headache piercing through you.

You feel the cold muzzle of his gun against your chest and you squeeze your eyes tight, readying yourself. Will it be quick, you wonder, or will you lie there bleeding, but still alive? Will it hurt? Or maybe it won’t even register.

“Don’t hurt her!” You hear Yixing cry, but before anyone could help you, the Leader suddenly slumps down on you. You struggle underneath him, his body heavy against you. You hear him wheezing, as if he’s in incredible pain. His body goes through a series of spasms, veins appearing on his forehead, his eyes becoming bloodshot.

You wonder what had happened to him. Maybe one of the boys had used their powers on him, but you can see Sehun, Jongdae, Baekhyun, Junmyeon and Jongin behind him and they all look absolutely horrified. Yixing is next to you in seconds, wanting to touch you yet he seems afraid.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, groaning as he looks at you as if he just got punched. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop him.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying, but all your questions are silenced soon enough.

Your mind begins to scream.

Searing pain erupts in your arm, the place where the Leader is grabbing you. It feels like the place where his skin touches yours is on fire—worse than fire. It feels like you’re skin and muscles are beginning to rot away.

You groan and twist, trying to get him off of you but his hand seems permanently glued onto your arm and you can’t get away.

What’s going on? You think frantically, feeling the pain begin to spread throughout your body. You can’t move at all, your body isn’t controlled by you anymore.

Your sight is blurring and dimming, but you can still see the Leader’s face in front of you. His eyes are wide with pain and fear, and you watch as dark marks spreads on his skin. His skin is flaky in the dark places, ashy and dead. Most of his body is like that. You don’t even want to know what you look like. You feel sick at the thought.

You watch as his eyes roll back and he slumps down on you, crushing you. You whimper, feeling fear squeezing your heart. You feel like you’re going to die. You don’t want to die. You did everything you could just so that you wouldn’t die.

You want to cry out for help.

Yixing, Yixing please. Help me.

You feel the Leader’s body getting pushed off of you. Yixing has you wrapped up in his arms, cradling your head against his chest.

You can no longer feel the pain. Everything feels like it’s happening far away. You can barely keep your eyes open anymore.

“Don’t sleep.” You hear Yixing whisper, though his voice is muffled and muted. “Please, don’t sleep.”

“…Don’t…” You manage to croak out, your voice weak and hoarse, barely audible. “…Touch…”

“It’s okay.” He keeps mumbling, holding you tighter against him. “It’s going to be okay.” His voice cracks though, and you wonder if he might be crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to protect you. I didn’t—I didn’t think for a second it would hurt you. I’m sorry. If only I had my powers right now…”

You want to tell him it’s okay. It’s not his fault; everything was your fault. You always overestimate yourself, thinking you can do these things. Thinking you can beat the Red Force and gain your freedom.

You were stupid to think that.

All it leaves you is on the brink of death.

But you also want to smile, because it’s okay. Even if you die, so will the Leader. When he’s dead, chaos will ensue. Even more agents will turn against the Red Force and they’ll be able to gain their freedom.

In a way, death is another way of being free. You won’t hurt anymore, won’t feel sorrow. You’ll never have to hurt others either.

But you also want to know what might happen after. How does it feel to walk around the streets free? To make real friends, to do normal things. What would it feel like to go to movies, or go shopping, or any other normal thing? You want to try it. You want to do all those things; you want to be happy.

You close your eyes, feeling hot tears behind your lids.

You’re ready to give up. It’s too much.

“No, no, please.” Yixing begs, pulling you close as the darkness continues to consume you. You wonder how you look now, wonder if you look hideous, grotesque. Have you been fully consumed? Is every inch of your flesh rotting away?

You wonder how Yixing can still hold you like this. How is he not disgusted? Is it because he feels guilty, remorseful?

It’s not bad dying in his arms. He’s warm, gentle. You wish you could say goodbye to him, but you can’t find your voice anymore. You think you’ll miss him. He’s the only voice you can hear, his face the only thing you can see in your mind.

You think you’ll miss him a lot. He, who has gone through so much with you, been by your side. You think back to the first time you met him, the unexpectedness. Back then, you didn’t even know if he existed or not.

Yet in the beginning it was him who trusted you first. He didn’t question Junmyeon—his loyalty undying—but he was quick to allow you to help. Even Baekhyun still felt skeptical despite knowing it was Junmyeon’s choice. Yixing was the first to hold out his hand to you, pushing suspicions aside. He showed you what he was capable of, but he was always gentle. He saw you, and you will always be grateful for that.

You wonder if you can call him your friend, yet it doesn’t feel adequate. He feels more—perhaps a partner? Not really. It feels a little bit different than a partner. Like a brother then? But not really that either.

You wonder what it is. This feeling. You wish you could tell him how special he is for you. How you didn’t spend a long time with him, yet you trust him with your life.

You wish you could tell him.

Your body has gone limp, like a corpse.

Your consciousness is slowly fading. You try so hard to hang on, but maybe it’s time to let go. You’ve always been unneeded; your existence just an accident the world made. You were supposed to be dead a long time ago.

“Stop it.” You can only vaguely hear Yixing’s voice now—it’s too hard to concentrate and register his words. “Stop that. You’re giving up, aren’t you? You can’t! You need to hold on, please. For me. Please don’t give up.”

Why? You want to ask. My existence doesn’t matter. I’ve already done everything I could.

“Don’t leave me.” He begs. “Please. I need you. Don’t leave me.”

Need me? You almost want to laugh. Yixing, you always know exactly what to say. Even if it’s a lie.

You feel yourself drift off, darkness fully consuming your mind as well. Everything is muddled and you feel like you’re floating. No pain, nothing.

In the background, though, you can still hear muffled voices. You think it’s Baekhyun talking, though you can’t make out anything anymore.

You see a green light, and you know this is it. This is the end of your journey, the end of your story. You’re not scared anymore—you’ve done everything you can.

You feel warmth.

Calm.

And then nothing.

Previous Chapter│Next Chapter

Ninth Mini Masterlist

Elyxion Chronicles: Masterlist

A/N: Will Y/N die? Will she live? Please tell me what you thought of this chapter! Thank you for reading~

Tags: @loser-dot-com @lis-redfox @jjaeminnie @shinrin-yokeu @xthefuckerysquaredx @bbhshowerthoughts

Tell me if you want to be tagged!

©kimjongdaely

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noona-clock · 6 years

Text

A Prince for Christmas 👑🎄 - Part 6

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Yunhyeong x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“Seriously, you were robbed,” you said to Yunhyeong once the competition had ended.

The judges had awarded him third place, and you secretly wondered if it was rigged somehow. Or maybe the person who won first place was related to one of the judges. Because... I mean, yeah, her gingerbread Empire State Building was impressive, but... Yunhyeong’s carousel moved! It turned around like an actual carousel!

“No, third place is good!” he assured you, already beginning to clean up his station. “Last year I got fifth, so I’m actually really happy with the results.”

“Well... I’m just saying, your carousel was absolutely beautiful, and if I had been a judge, you definitely would’ve won.”

And you weren’t just saying that because you’d just realized an hour ago that you liked him.

A very deep blush overtook Yunhyeong’s cheeks, and he smiled a bit shyly as he gathered up all the tools he’d used to decorate the gingerbread.

So... maybe he liked you, too?

“Here, let me help you,” you offered, moving to go behind the counter and start cleaning up with him.

“No, no, no,” he replied immediately, his brow furrowing as he held his hand out to stop you. “I’ve got it. You just head back with Holly.”

“Are you sure? I’m happy to help.”

“I’m sure,” he assured you, the shy smile still present on his lips. “But how about you come to the bakery tomorrow so we can go over the contract?”

Nothing like Yunhyeong bringing up business to remind you that you were actually here for business.

“Oh, sure!” you agreed. “I’ll swing by. When would be a good time for you?”

“Whenever,” he shrugged. “I’ll see you then.”

You lifted your hand in a little wave before turning and heading back over to Holly. She gave you a knowing look as you two headed outside and began your walk back to the house.

Once you were up in your room, settled and ready for bed, you decided to call Emily. She was the only person who knew about your current situation, and you had to tell someone about your little revelation earlier.

“So, how was the competition? Did he win?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.

“No, he got third,” you sighed. “Which really was a shame because his carousel was gorgeous. But, oh well.”

“You had fun then?”

“Actually, yeah. And... I think I kind of realized something.”

“What would that be?” she asked curiously.

“I think... I might actually like him?”

“Well, who said you didn’t like him?”

“No, I mean... like him. I think I have a crush on him or whatever the kids are calling it these days.” Your voice had suddenly turned a bit bashful, and it definitely felt weird saying the words out loud.

“You what now? But you just met him a few days ago. How can you already have a crush on him?”

“I... don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

You frowned, not really knowing how to answer. “I... think so?”

“I don’t know, Y/N... it usually takes you ages to develop feelings for someone.”

“Yeah, I know... Maybe you’re right,” you admitted, but only kind of because you just wanted to stop talking about it. “Listen, I’m gonna head off to bed. We’re going over the contract tomorrow. I don’t want to be yawning the whole time.”

“Okay... good night.”

You hung up without another word, leaning over to turn the lamp on your bedside table off.

But, as to be expected, you spent the next hour thinking about Emily’s hesitation. More like overthinking.

She was right, of course. It usually did take you ages to develop feelings for someone. A few weeks, at least. Definitely not a few days.

So... did you really have feelings for him? Or did you just think you did because you had all those romantic cliches from the Christmas television movies stuck in your head? The girls in those movies always ended up falling in love with a guy they’d just met, so maybe you’d just been thinking too much about that and got the idea stuck in your head.

When you woke up the next morning, you were almost 100% convinced you didn’t actually like him. At least, not like that. You did think he was a very lovely person with some grade-A good looks, but you two didn’t really know each other. You knew what he showed you, but you didn’t truly know what was underneath the surface. What was in his heart.

So your realization last night had been a false alarm, nothing more.

You made your way down to the bakery just after breakfast, going through all of your options of how to act around Yunhyeong. You’d thought last night maybe he liked you, too, but now that you’d realized you didn’t like him... you didn’t necessarily want to lead him on.

Should you be strictly professional?

But that might hurt his feelings. You were friends, after all, and you’d been friendly with him up until now.

So should you just continue being friendly?

Why were you so concerned about this? Why couldn’t you just be yourself?

“Hey, good morning!” Yunhyeong called out as you opened the door to Song’s Sweet Escape, the bell jingling overhead. “Happy Wednesday!”

“Happy Wednesday,” you chuckled.

He smiled at you, and even from here, you could see how dazzling and sweet and genuine it was.

And it made you question yourself all over again.

Why should those dumb cheesy movies influence you that much?! How could they make you think you had feelings for someone? It’s not like you actually thought you were in one of those movies, like you were following some script you didn’t know about it and had no choice but to fall for Yunhyeong.

You liked him because you liked him. End of story.

Everything you’d thought about him last night? Nice and kind and sweet and smart and funny? He really was all of those things, and some romantic tropes in some stupid movie weren’t going to change that!

Sure, it was true you didn’t know him that well, but... you at least wanted to get to know him better. And it’s not like you were declaring your undying love for the guy. You simply had a crush on him, and that was totally plausible.

Because.

Look at him.

So you didn’t really hold back as you two were going over the contract. You were more than friendly, you kept accidentally brushing your foot against his leg, and you spared no shortage of smiles and giggles.

It was almost disgusting, to be honest.

If you were an outsider looking in, you would’ve wanted to vomit.

Once you’d (kind of, sort of) gone over the whole contract (there was a lot of flirting going on, so you weren’t sure how much business you actually discussed...), you noticed Yunhyeong looked a little... nervous.

But before you could ask what was wrong, he cleared his throat. “Hey, so, I was wondering...”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, waiting patiently for him to finish his sentence.

“Would you maybe... want to go ice skating with me tonight?”

Your first thought was to wait a few moments before answering just in case he wanted to add on ‘so we can talk about the contract more’ like he had with the Christmas tree lighting.

But he didn’t.

So you nodded.

“Sure,” you grinned. “I would love to.”

“Really?” he asked, looking just a bit surprised. “You want to go ice skating?”

“Ice skating is a winter activity!” you chuckled. “It’s not exclusive to Christmas.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He slid his chair back from the table, waiting for you to do the same after you’d gathered up the papers.

“I usually am,” you pointed out with a slight smirk.

You two agreed to meet after dinner at 7; Yunhyeong would pick you up and - surprise, surprise - you would walk to the ice rink.

You decided not to tell Emily about this when you got back to the Bed and Breakfast because she’d just convinced you last night you didn’t actually like Yunhyeong in that way. So if you told her you were now going on a date with him? She would think you’re certifiably nuts.

And maybe you were, to be honest.

Maybe there really was some sort of magic spell cast over this town to turn everything into a cheesy television movie.

But your thoughts on Christmas hadn’t changed, your thoughts on buying his bakery hadn’t changed (completely), and you definitely planned on going back home to the city once this week was over.

So not everything happening was a cause for concern.

Just the fact you’d developed a crush on somebody you’d just met on Saturday. And it was now Wednesday.

But, whatever.

You dressed as warmly as you could considering you hadn’t even thought you’d be going ice skating when you’d packed for this trip. But you figured a wool sweater plus your coat, hat, scarf, and gloves would suffice.

If not... well, there was always hot cocoa, right?

You avoided telling Nick and Holly where you were going at the last minute because you didn’t want to hear any more ‘interesting’s or see their curious looks. You simply wanted to have a nice evening with Yunhyeong without being reminded you were the first person he’d gone on a date with in five years.

Five. Years.

That was quite a long time.

Oh, goodness, was this really a good idea?

Because you were leaving in a just a couple days, so... what was the point, really?!

Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupted your second thoughts, and you jogged down the stairs to answer it before either Nick or Holly (or both) could.

You figured you didn’t have to even tell them you were leaving because... this wasn’t your house, they weren’t your parents, and you were a grown adult. But Yunhyeong stuck his head in and promised to have you back by ten.

The ice rink wasn’t too far away, actually, and it took you less time to walk there than it did to walk to the bakery. In your mind, though, you wondered how a town this small could fit a skating rink, but there it was. Right in front of you. Full-sized and everything.

It wasn’t too crowded, but you still knew that everyone there knew who Yunhyeong was. And they probably knew who you were even if they hadn’t seen you before. They would at least be able to figure out it was you because they hadn’t seen you. They knew everyone else in this town, so they could put two and two together.

Once you both had procured your skates, you sat on the benches around the rink, tying them up tightly.

“So...” you began with a little chuckle. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone ice skating.”

“Like how long?” Yunhyeong asked, glancing over at you.

“Years. In-between one and two decades.”

“Wow, I’m really surprised,” he responded in a very sarcastic tone. “I would’ve thought you went ice skating all the time seeing as how you’re so festive.”

“Be quiet,” you chuckled, leaning over and bumping into him with your shoulder.

“All right, here we go.” Yunhyeong stood from the bench, maneuvering himself in front of you so he could help you up.

“This part is easy,” you pointed out, though you still accepted his help anyway, sliding your hands into his and pulling yourself up. “It’s out there I’m worried about.”

“I’ll be out there with you the whole time, I promise,” he assured you with a small grin.

“And... if I fall, you’re going down with me, right?”

Yunhyeong laughed out loud, slightly throwing his head back with amusement. The sound of his laughter and the sight of his smile was almost too much for your heart, and you felt like making him laugh again.

“Yes, I’ll go down with you,” he promised.

He led you to the door of the ice rink, cautiously stepping out first. He gripped your hand tightly as you followed him, your other hand holding firmly onto the ledge.

When both of your feet were on the ice, you let out a small sigh of relief, looking up at Yunhyeong with a smile. “This isn’t too b--”

You lost your balance before you could finish your sentence, and Yunhyeong reached out to grab you by the waist, steadying you and preventing you from falling over. You gently fell onto his chest, your hands clutching his coat lapels.

“Spoke too soon,” you laughed.

“Yeah,” Yunhyeong chuckled, his smile wide and bright.

He helped you regain your footing again and then slowly began to lead you around the rink.

It took you at least ten minutes to get around the rink the first time, but you found you slowly got the hang of it. By the third time skating around, you didn’t truly have to hold Yunhyeong’s hand anymore... but every time he asked if you were okay letting go, you shook your head.

You liked holding his hand.

You liked him.

And if Emily were here, she’d understand.

There was just... something about him. There was, as corny as it sounded, a connection between the two of you. Sparks. Chemistry. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was there, and you couldn’t ignore it.

After about an hour of skating, hand-holding, semi-accidental slipping (because even through his coat you could feel Yunhyeong had a pretty nice body), and a lot of flirting, Yunhyeong suggested you take a break and get some hot cocoa.

You secured a spot on a bench while Yunhyeong trudged over to the concession stand, and when he joined you, you were more than ready for a warm beverage.

“It’s freezing out here,” you noted, carefully taking the cup from him and immediately taking a sip.

“Yeah, seems like it’ll snow sometime soon,” Yunhyeong replied, letting out a little sigh as he sat next to you.

Okay... if it started snowing as you and Yunhyeong were walking home... you knew in a lot of those movies, it started snowing as the two characters were outside doing something, and that was usually when they shared their first kiss.

You actually almost brought this up to Yunhyeong, but you figured that would be a little awkward. Because if it did start snowing while you were walking home, Yunhyeong would automatically think you would want him to kiss you.

So you simply sipped your cocoa, letting it warm you up as you tried not to think about snowing and walking and kissing. (But you failed desperately.)

After Yunheyong recycled your empty cups, he plopped back down on the bench next to you. “Ready for more? Or ready to call it a night?”

“Y’know,” you sighed. “I don’t know how I managed to skate for that long without falling, so I think I don’t want to jinx it.”

He laughed, bending over to start untying his skates. “Understandable. You did a good job, really!”

“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t helped me,” you admitted, untying your skate laces, as well.

“It was my pleasure,” he murmured. “Really.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling like a goofball, and thankfully, Yunhyeong was too focused on his skates to notice. You wondered if maybe you were also too focused on your skates to notice his goofy smile.

As you began your walk back to the Bed and Breakfast, you didn’t shove your hands in your pocket as you normally would when it was this cold. You’d gotten used to holding Yunhyeong’s hand on the ice, and... you kind of wanted to for real now.

So you waited to see if he would put his hands in his pockets. If he did, you would back off. But if he didn’t...

After a whole minute, you noticed his hands were still by his side, so... you went for it. You casually took a step closer to him as you walked, your arm brushing against his... and then you just slipped your hand inside his. He immediately linked your fingers together, and your goofball smile was back in full force.

You’d forgotten how nice it was to walk and hold hands with someone.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he murmured softly.

“Me, too,” you replied, looking over at him with a soft, almost dreamy gaze. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He simply smiled at you, though it looked like he wanted to say something. You wondered if maybe it was something about the fact this was his first actual date in half a decade... but then he turned his head to look forward.

You walked a lot more slowly than you had on your way to the rink even though it was quite a bit colder than it had been a couple of hours ago. You two talked about what you liked to do in your free time, your favorite movies and music and all that fun ‘getting to know you’ stuff.

And just as the Bed and Breakfast came into view... you felt a piece of dust land on your eyelash. You blinked rapidly and realized it was cold.

...Oh, wait.

It wasn’t dust.

It was...

“It’s snowing,” Yunhyeong pointed out, looking up at the dark sky as the huge, fluffy snowflakes began to drift down to the ground.

“Hey, you were right,” you replied with a nervous chuckle. I mean, really. What were the odds it would actually start snowing in the twenty minutes it took you two to walk from the ice rink to the Bed and Breakfast?!

Your heart began to beat rapidly because, of course, you automatically thought about kissing Yunhyeong.

And your thoughts must have shown on your face because the man in question stopped walking and turned to face you. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, reaching up to brush a snowflake off your cheek.

You took a deep breath, your gaze locked on his. “Yeah...” you answered softly. “I just...”

You know what?

Why the heck not?

If the cliches were coming back, you might as well just roll with it, right?

So you took a step forward, raised yourself up on your toes, and delicately pressed your lips to his.

Part 7

Tagging my fellow Yunhyeong stans @zhangjingyou and @hahasunqwoonz as well as @cramelot , @peach-sm , @lafilleestmorte , @digitalizeduniqueness , @cinnamoonbunbin , @infiredbypepi , @mark-tuan-and-namjoon-lover to let them know this has been posted! Readers, let me know if you would like to be tagged so you know when the next part of this series is up! Thank you!

-Admin B

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

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madimpxssible · 5 years

Text

hey!! my name is jinx and i’m an amelia pond enthusiast -- i’ve been playing her for 5+ years and i just love her so much. i hope this word BLABBER makes sense!! i’ve decided to parallel some canon because why not, so see if you can catch it. please like this if you want to plot and i’ll slide into those DMs!!

Amelia Pond grew up in the Scottish Highlands for the first 5 years of her life to two Purebloods who were way in over their heads. They were Unspeakables who decided to try to bring some of their work home with them. This caused their house to become a magical black hole and as it started to break apart -- it wasn’t safe for anyone, especially not a child. Amelia was drawn to it. She was interested, she was fucking scared, she was also infinitely curious, always trying to break into her parents study where they worked, often succeeding. One night, Amy realized she was home alone much later than usual and waited on the front porch for her parents almost all day every day for seven days -- unbeknownst to her they had been on the run, having been caught smuggling their work home, hoping to shake them off and pick up their daughter when the coast was clear. Amelia waited. She brought her meals out, she dragged a mattress into the front of the house outside, some of her books and toys. No matter how cold, how wet or rainy, she waited for them. A little bit before her fifth birthday, Aurors came to seize the Ponds home, the magical artifacts and scripts they had stolen as well as their daughter. The Ponds came back, tried to fight them, needless to say this did not go well -- the Aurors eventually won, arresting them and taking Amy into custody. Luckily, they got ahold of her aunt who begrudgingly took her in.

The magic she was exposed to warped Amy’s reality -- in fact, due to it, she doesn’t remember her parents even though she sometimes desperately tries. Mentally, this has taken a huge huge toll on her and did especially as a child-- all she remembers is a piano, a few glowing cracks in her wall, and waiting for a week. Sometimes, flashes come to her in her dreams, but she doesn’t know what to trust, the feeling of them heavily disorienting her. Her aunt was a Squib and addict, who despised magical society, living on the outskirts of Godric’s Hallow in the muggle town bordering it. Every question Amy asked about her parents was ignored, she was either yelled at or met with a scowl. In primary school, Amy talked about how she’d seen magic, how she’d seen broomsticks -- everyone thought her crazy. Her teachers eventually brought her to the school doctor who recommended she saw a psychiatrist -- her aunt, who could’ve easily stopped this, who could’ve easily explained, didn’t want to intervene so she let them.

As a child, she doubted a lot of her reality but Amelia was fucking stubborn. She saw what she saw, she knew what she knew, she felt what she felt and that was that. Four psychiatrists couldn’t tell her she was telling tall tales or lying, that she was delusional -- magic was real. It was all real. She wouldn’t give up. How could she? It was the only connection to her parents, it was the only thing she knew she had of them and her childhood, these scattered memories, this random knowledge. Deemed the weird crazy girl at school -- Amy ran with it. Fuck them. She didn’t need anyone. She had her stories, she had her magic, she had herself -- that was all she needed. Spending excessive time by herself, in her own head, exploring her surroundings, she became something of a loner -- her doctors became worried about her but her aunt just wanted nothing to do with her, often leaving her to her own devices.

Some days, Amy believes meeting Rory Williams saved her life because the fact was? She needed someone to believe her. To believe in her, to love her for all that she was, crazy maybe, eccentric, loud, lively, headstrong. He did. More importantly, he believed her. Even after the doctors diagnosed her with mild psychosis ( they hoped this childhood obsession would go away soon ), he didn’t think she was crazy -- at least not in that way. He was her first friend, her best friend, when she got her Hogwarts letter, had McGonagall come to her home and explain everything -- it was the first time she weeped from relief. While Amy believed she wasn’t crazy, after being told you are, bullied, neglected, she had the deep rooted fear that maybe she was. This confirmed everything for her, this gave her purpose. Amelia was right, magic was real, and Rory was going with her. Her life was finally going in the direction of wonder, magic, everything she believed in and she started writing about it. Amelia decided on her first day, on the platform of 9 3/4 that she would now go by Amy. Amelia was the crazy girl who lost her parents, Amelia was the little girl left, the girl who waited but Amy? Amy was cool. Amy was who she’d be at Hogwarts, who she wanted to be at Hogwarts, Amy was her new life and a new chapter.

Easily, her outgoing personality, her curiosity, her brashness and her undying love and loyalty for others who earned it made Amy quite popular at Hogwarts. Being sorted into Gryffindor was perfect for her, Amy fitting into her house like a glove. Part of the Charms club since her first year, she’s extremely proficient in Charms and loves History of Magic ( even though Binns as a teacher is a snooze fest ) -- though she’s not always the best student in every subject. Amy tries, but school has never been a good place for her even if it’s magic. She had friends in every house, she was known for giving cheek as easily as professors gave homework -- her vibrant personality was for once appreciated. The girl who was a loner, who wasn’t good at playing with others, the weird girl transformed into a redheaded bombshell especially when she hit puberty. Amy had trysts with people of every gender, her popularity expanding as she talked with and met more people. Some professors found her annoying, some thought her to be effervescent and refreshing, either way she was one hundred percent undoubtedly herself. Some days, Amy cannot fucking believe that this is her life, that magic is real, that people actually like her and other days she knows it’s what she deserves, she has an extremely high regard for herself and who she is. But it fluctuates, more than she’d care to admit.

If you notice, if you really do, you’ll see the cracks underneath the surface -- the way her romantic relationships never last more than 3 months. The ways she barely drinks at parties and doesn’t touch a single drug at them. The little ways she avoids questions about her home life underneath sass, sarcasm, cheek, jokes. The fear of being left by almost everyone she loves, the fear of investing herself in someone so much only for them to leave or worse, forget about her completely. Nightmares plague her and have since she was a child, this last year she’s tried to do research on her parents, who they are, coming up short. In her seventh year, Amy is extremely scared about going into the real world, feeling like she’s not prepared at all. She loves writing, sure, but working at the Daily Prophet? An internship working for people who will most likely not appreciate her work or let her write anything actually worthwhile? Sounds shit. All of her insecurities, her fear, she hides under personality, having an extremely hard time admitting that she’d clueless about the future because it’s admitting a weakness she doesn’t want to expose.

ABUSE, NEGLECT, DEPRESSION TW. In the last few years, Amy has found herself dealing with depression which flares up especially during the summer when she’s with her aunt or really, when she’s being neglected by her aunt. Even though they moved to Godric’s Hallow, the wizarding section, a few years ago, she’ll spend a lot of time alone if she’s not with Rory or a few other friends. You can find her in her bed for days on end, sleeping, reading, writing, in her head completely, only for her to come out of it seemingly fine and like nothing happened. Being at home brings up feelings of worthlessness due to her aunt’s neglect and gets her in a very dark and bad place. Paired with her fear about entering the real world and leaving Hogwarts, Amy writes and writes and thinks about her future with both excitement and intense dread.

NOTES ( some analyzations from canon ):

One of my favorite aspects of Amy’s character is her empathy & intuitiveness. While sometimes lacking social grace and not always the best with interpersonal relations, she can see people for who they are deep down, their intentions, the emotions she feels like she feels from others often overwhelming but something that does lead her. A gut instinct magnified. She’s intuitive and empathetic because she’s got such an active imagination paired with a creative mind, she’s able to put those two things together, not only painting a picture of who someone is, painting colors on them they might not see themselves. Maybe this is a bit naive at times, maybe even a bit dangerous if it steers her wrong ( which is why Rory Williams is so important to her, her impulsiveness paired with this can get her into tough situations and he always has her back, always by her side ). Amelia is not always one to think before jumping into situations if she feels it’s the right thing to do, a prime example of this is her running off with The Doctor EASILY. Both as a kid and an adult. Luckily, not many have taken advantage of this as she can be extremely closed off emotionally. She’s a good judge of character and if she puts her faith in you, know while it could be surprising, it was a very much calculated, thought out, and a felt through choice. Amy’s extremely stubborn so good luck getting her to do something she doesn’t want to do ESPECIALLY if she doesn’t feel it’s right. Amy is usually able to connect to anyone and everyone some sort of way when she tries due to all of this, usually better with connecting to people than the ( Eleventh ) Doctor himself is.

[ EMOTIONAL NEGLECT MENTION, ALCOHOLISM MENTION ] Verbal, straightforward, blunt, but it when it comes to her emotions, the ones that hurt, the ones that can’t be wrapped in something beautiful or lightly joked about are the ones tucked away. Amy’s got serious commitment/abadonment issues as well, as shown throughout Doctor Who. I play her Aunt as a high functioning addict, growing up she was never really home much less attentive to Amy ( also due to the whole crack in Amy’s wall thing, but, that’s a whole other topic ).

Despite being a rather fearless person, due to this, she will make fear based decisions as well as decisions based on her insecurities that she’s not enough, that she’s more pain than she’s worth, out of not being able to give someone she cares about what they need. For example, when in canon Amy breaks up with Rory because she feels so guilty she can’t have biological kids when she knows he ALWAYS wanted kids. She was scared if she stayed with him, he’d hate her, that she was keeping him from having a fulfilling life, that she wasn’t enough and didn’t fit into what he wanted. Rory deserves everything to her, she couldn’t give it to him, when he gave and gave and gave to her. She didn’t feel worthy, but she didn’t express that fear either, making Rory feel completely shut out because she was shutting him out. She’ll self sabotage easily, because commitment & abandonment are scary to her and she’d rather be the one leaving than being left. Amy can’t stand to wait for the worst to happen, for the other shoe to drop, she isn’t the fucking girl who waited – not anymore.

Amy is diagnosed with major depressive disorder previously diagnosed with psychotic features added on as well until the Doctor came back but after having 4 psychiatrists in her youth, Amy definitely fits into having MDD. There are many evidences in canon besides her literally going to psychiatrists that suggest that Amy is mentally ill / ND, another hint in the episode ‘Vincent and The Doctor’. Amy empathizes with Vincent Van Gogh ( my Amy is an extreme art history lover as well, especially Vincent Van Gogh ), she says she’s been where he is, that she gets it. [ SUICIDE MENTION ] She is physically effected when he talks about dark shit and in another episode with the Dreamlord, she talks about how she doesn’t want to live in a world if Rory’s not in it, then killing herself in the show. The way she does it in my head ( and in the show ) is extremely steely, easily done, because Amy has dealt with mental illness, because she’s been in dark places & suicidal ideation. [ END OF SUICIDE MENTION ] In this RP, I have her as mentioned dealing with depression and such too though not yet having reached out for help for it, Yet.

SHE IS A SAGITTARIUS and it fits her perfectly.

#intro.#i really tried to make this shorter! but i have EMOTIONS!

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icyhobi · 7 years

Text

Angel in the Darkness (M) pt.9

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au

A/N:This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (oral, penetration, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use… This is a mature read! You have been warned!

~~~~~

“You lied to me!” the 15yr old Jungkook screeched in agony. He couldn’t stop the salty tears from streaming down his puffy face, as he looked at his older brother with pure hatred.

Jin, lifelessly looked at his youngest sibling and sighed in an annoyed tone, “What was I supposed to tell you?”

“The truth!” the doe eyed boy spat.

“It doesn’t work like that Jungkook, especially in this family.”

“Family?!” Jungkook laughed, sounding as if he had gone insane. “You think I’d call this a family?!”

At that, Jin closed his eyes in frustration – he knew that it was never easy for any of them to find out the truth, but Jungkook was by far taking it the worse. He recalled the others had shown great anger momentarily, but then they would get over it. Hell, even him himself hadn’t shown any emotions when his father told him the truth about his own mother. But maybe that was because Jungkook was different from the rest of them. He still… felt emotion, he still cared for others, and hadn’t become a cold-hearted machine that followed orders like the rest of them did.

And that’s when Jin discovered he had to change that.

“Why are you getting so upset Kookie?” the elder said with a chilling voice. “I understand that your mother dying is quite saddening, but…” he trailed off, only to find the boy looking directly at him with fiery in his eyes.

He knew that he should have stopped – but he couldn’t. He needed to break him. So, he didn’t let the twisted smile on his face disappear, as he spoke the dreaded act Jungkook had committed;

“…you’re the one who stabbed her to death.”

~~~~~

Jungkook hated liars. He hated being lied to, but he couldn’t help but think bitterly at the fact that he hated himself the most. He absolutely despised how naïve and innocent he once was, believing anything an elder told him. He hated that he wasn’t smart enough to catch on to what his father was doing. He hated his brothers for not telling him the truth about what happened to his mother. He hated everyone. But then he had met you…

It was as if you had a certain bright aura around you, that managed to make him forget. Forget all the terrible things he’s done. Forget all the unfortunate events that has happened to him. And make him himself, a man who is destined to burn in hell – believe that he could be happy.

But he should have known, that this was just a treacherous cycle of being taking advantage of. He should have known that the god above, found great pleasure in punishing him for his sins. He should have known that he could never be happy, because he simply doesn’t deserve it.

But you… were just so special to him. You were able to break down his barriers, over his carefree facade, and were able to make him feel loved. Or at least, he thought you did.

Because he was foolish to forget that even the purest of angels, can fall.

So, he couldn’t even describe the feeling he felt right at that moment stepping out of the shower, only to hear your panicked voice mumbling on the phone. He couldn’t even describe the betrayal of hearing you frantically shout his dreaded step brother’s name. He didn’t even want to believe it.

His suspicions on you were right from the very beginning – you did work for his father. Why else would you know Jin? Why else would you just randomly come all the way to the specific brothel he worked at? You were obviously sent there, probably with the task of getting him to have his guard down, he assumed. Oh, and it worked, it definitely worked. But he wouldn’t let them win. He wouldn’t let you get away with it.

Thus, with blurred eyes, he grabbed the pistol that was located underneath the bathroom sink and walked silently up to your unknowing form.

“You have two minutes to convince me why I shouldn’t shoot your brains out, you sick liar.”

You froze at the sound of his voice. The cold metal against your head felt numb, compared to the deep ache in your chest. Just the mere sound of his tone, broke your heart. Why? Well that was because you could hear how broken he was. Hell, you could even feel it.

But why… why was he so upset? You knew Jungkook had a certain disdain for untruthful people, but you seriously doubted he would point a gun at them. And what did he even think you were lying about?

Your mind flashed backed to the memory of being at that club with him, and how threatening he was towards you. You remembered how he was about to ask if you worked for somebody, before Hyuna interrupted him.

Who did he think you worked for?

You figured that was a key question to why he was acting so hostile towards you.

If he’s willing to kill someone he thinks works for this ‘person’ that would mean he most likely hates this person…

You were desperately trying to piece together some sort of conclusion, to give you an idea of how to respond to Jungkook, until you realized something crucial.

Didn’t Jin say that Jungkook hated him? That’s why he made you go and see Jungkook, instead of himself. And if he overheard you talking to Jin on the phone, that’s what most likely made him angry.

He must think I’m working for Jin! Or at least have some sort of connection to him.

You knew that what you were thinking was a bit of a stretch, but it was the only thing you could muster up as an answer. Besides, you weren’t even working for Jin, he technically wasn’t even your own patient for crying out loud!

But there was still something that didn’t make sense – why would he think Jin would harm him? Jin wanted to help him… right?

Ughh! This doesn’t make any sense! How exactly do they even know each other?

Your scrabbled thoughts are suddenly interrupted when you feel the gun pressed harder to the back of your head.

“One minute has already passed,” Jungkook spoke in a monotonous voice.

Your heart dropped, as you didn’t like the sound of that at all. Not the threat of the gun, but the dullness in his tone. You wanted him smile at you, with that cocky and playful smirk of his. You wanted to hear his velvety voice, while you looked into his beautiful chocolate orbs. You wanted him to hug you in his strong arms, and stay in that position for the rest of your life. You wanted… to be with him.

And you thought that after last night, that your wants may have came true – the man who was able to make you fall in love so easily, make you smile so effortlessly, and make you everlastingly happy – be yours.

But you weren’t living in a fairy-tale.

You were destined for sadness.

As if your father never showing up, getting picked on, or even losing your mother wasn’t enough.

The one man you loved, was literally seconds away from ending your life.

What a cruel destiny…

Closing your eyes tightly, while trying to stop the tears from falling, you shakily spoke. “Jungkook…”

He doesn’t reply, there was only a sharp exhale through his nostrils with the gun pressed in even harder.

“What do you think I’m l-lying about?”

“Oh please Y/n, don’t try to act like your clueless,” he snarled. “I know you lied about why you met me.”

“How?”

You could tell he was irritated by your questions, because you felt the pressure of the gun removed suddenly, only for him to roughly push you down till your stomach and breasts were pushed flat against the table. Your then surprised when you felt him grab your arms, then twist them to be locked behind your back, held by his iron grip. He then leant down, till you could feel the heat from his broad chest, just barely touching your pinned arms and back.

While one hand holds your arms down, he uses his free hand to mockingly pet your hair behind your right ear.

“I think I should be the one asking the questions,” he said in an eerily chilling voice. It wasn’t as harsh as before, but somehow, it still terrified you.

“Now tell me…” he breathed heavily, “Why did you really meet me? Someone purposely sent you, didn’t they?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered while your face was pressed down onto the cold counter top.

“Who?”

Seeing as you had no other choice, you decided it was best to be completely honest with him. The only thing you were worried about was that, what if he didn’t believe you? You couldn’t really blame him though, could you? He’s expressed various times that he’s been tricked before in the past, making it hard for him to trust people, and now you’re one of the people who also partially deceived him.

And you hated that. It made you feel horrible.

But you were going to fix this, you just needed more time though. You needed to get Jungkook to believe you once again, before those people Jin warned you about came…

The more you thought about it, the more you were starting to panic.

You cleared your throat, before you nervously spoke, “His name is Seokjin, Kim Seokjin.”

You didn’t know what to expect next, as you knew there was an undying hatred Jungkook had for Jin, but you still didn’t know why. Jin never told you the reason as to why he hated him, which you so desperately wanted to find out.

What happened between them?

There was a suspenseful pause before you heard Jungkook speak up again, sounding completely emotionless. “How do you know him?”

“He’s a patient of mine… well not even mine. He was a patient at the rehab facility I work at.”

You heard Jungkook snicker, “A patient? Y/n you should know better than to fool me more than once.”

You could identify the hint of venom in his tone, and it made you worry he wouldn’t believe you.

“I swear to you, I’m not lying! I could even pull up his file for yo-”

“How do I know it’s not a fake? How am I supposed to know what is truthful coming out of that tainted mouth of yours?!” he interrupted, with a loud voice.

Oh no, he’s getting angry! What am I supposed to do?!

Your silence angers him more, so he snakes his hand to grab a painful hold of your long hair, then pulls it back harshly.

“Aghh!” you yelped in pain, as he pulled your head up from the table by your hair, so he could growl into your ear.

“Tell me the fucking truth Y/n. Be a good girl and don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

His voice had somewhat of a sinister tone to it, making you cower in fear. This was not Jungkook. You knew he was trying to intimidate you, to make you spill up, but he didn’t even need to! You were telling him the truth!

Why does he have to be so damn stubborn!?

“J-Jungkook…” you whimpered, since the position he pinned you in made your neck and scalp ache. “Please…”

He tugged your hair harshly, as he chuckled darkly into your ear, “Please what, kitten?”

“Y-You’re hurting me!” you choked out, while you could feel your eyes start to water.

Upon seeing your pained expression, Jungkook’s menacing smile dropped, as he was having an inner conflict within himself.

He didn’t like that he was hurting you… but weren’t you here to hurt him? He was so sure that you were sent here to hunt him down by his father, so he knew that the only solution to this was killing you.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He’s killed many people over the years; some which were deserving, and some that were innocent. But with you, he just couldn’t do it. Already seeing the frightened look in your eyes and voice felt like a stab to his heart, since he knew he was the cause of it.

He just, didn’t know what to believe anymore…

His grip on your hair faltered a bit, but he still held you down while he muttered, “N-no, you’re hurting me!”

That’s it! He’s breaking!

Although you were saddened to hear the brokenness in his voice – you needed him to be vulnerable. No walls, no facades, just him being open, and completely defenceless. That’s when he would not get his feelings get caught with his actions, and you would be able to reason with him.

“Jungkook, please… let me tell you what happened.”

“You hurt me…” he whispered quietly in response.

It was a silent now, and all you could hear was his irregular breathing right above your ear. You could feel your own lip quiver, as you really did feel like shit. You did hurt him. He trusted you, but you lied to him. At the time, you thought it was a little white lie, but now you were seeing how deep it was.

I need to know what is his relationship between Jin…

“Jin was put into rehabilitation for being an alcoholic, and having a drug addiction.” You said quietly, breaking the silence.

You didn’t hear him respond, so you continued, “He was my senior co-worker’s patient, you know, Jessica?”

On one of your coffee dates with him, you did mention Jessica’s name a couple of times, telling him about your work. So you knew he was familiar with the name.

“Mmh.” Jungkook breathed quietly, indicating that he remembered her.

There was a faint smile itched upon your face, as you were happy that he was finally listening to you – regardless of the uncomfortable position he still trapped you in.

“Well he was her patient, but then one day she asked me to cover her communication session with him, even though I’m not qualified for that yet. But she still trusted me.”

“Why did she ask you so suddenly?” Jungkook questioned.

Surprised by his voice, you replied cautiously, “Her boyfriend got into a car accident, so she went to the hospital and asked me to cover.”

“Continue.”

Clearing your throat, you then said, “When I met him, he was so different. It didn’t even look like he belonged in a rehab centre… he seemed normal. And after the first session, he continued to request for me instead of Jessica… I guess he just felt more comfortable around me.”

You stay quiet after that, not sure if you should continue since Jungkook remained silent. That is until he grabbed your hair again, and pulled it, making you wince.

“Did I say stop?” he harshly whispered into your ear.

“T-The pattern of meeting up for the scheduled sessions continued on for a month,” you stuttered. He never really told me anything personal, since whenever I w-would mention it, he seemed stressed.”

Of course, that fucker would be stressed about it… Jungkook mentally seethed.

“A-And then after that month, he asked me to do a favour for him…”

“What favour?”

You were going to answer him, but the grip he had on hair was becoming way too uncomfortable, that you felt tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Dammit! He’s getting defensive again!

“J-Jungkook please…” you whimpered. “You’re pulling my hair too h-hard.”

“Then be a good girl, and answer the question,” he said intimidatingly.

You groaned, as you could sense him not listening to you again. He was letting his emotions guide his actions, which was full of anger. And that scared you.

Would you ever get him to believe you?

And when that thought crossed your mind – you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You tried so hard to keep your emotions intact, to stay level headed, and strong, but you couldn’t anymore. Not now, after this fear of him not believing you. The dreaded ache you thought of, if he hated you forever…

Losing him…

You felt Jungkook stiffen when you opened your voice again, except this time, it came out as a desperate sob. “H-He asked me to help a friend of his, saying that he was scared of losing him. I’ve never seen him be so worried before, so I agreed to it. I didn’t even know where he was sending me, but I trusted him,” you paused, as the tears fell down your puffy cheeks. “And that’s how I met you…”

Not hearing a response from him, you just decided to continue, “He told me not to say who sent me to you. When I asked w-why, he said that you hated him.”

Well, he’s not wrong about that…

“To be honest, I didn’t even know what I was getting myself into… its just that, when I looked at him, I knew he was desperate, so I felt like I was obligated to help,” you sobbed quietly. “That’s how I got the vip card to access the brothel, since Jin gave it to me. I was so nervous, and when I saw you…” you trailed off, remembering the fateful first day you met Jungkook. “I-I just didn’t expect to meet someone like you…” you smiled at the last bit, even though tears streamed down your face.

“He told me to just get you to trust me, and to open up your feelings, I still don’t know the specific reason why, as he still hasn’t told me yet.” You took a shaky breath as you continued, “But that didn’t matter, since after that night from the bar, when I told you about my parents, I liked you…”

Liked me?

You smiled faintly while sniffling, “I wanted to get to know you, not because of Jin, but because I personally liked you as a person. I was intrigued by you, and found myself happy just to spend time with you.”

Jungkook didn’t respond at all, he just stayed still, making you worried that he didn’t even acknowledge what you said. You were starting to feel hopeless.

“P-Please believe me Jungkook, I swear to you that’s the truth!” you stammered out in desperation. “And i-i’m sorry.”

“For what?” was his short reply. It didn’t even sound like he was asking a question, rather commanding you to just speak.

“For not being truthful with you from the beginning. I really do mean it when I say I’m sorry, but I promise you, everything else was real!” you choked.

“What was real?”

Everything…

“The stuff we talked about whenever we would hang out, all the smiles we shared, even the feelings…”

Feelings?

“I swear to you Jungkook, that besides not telling you about why I met you, I have been completely truthful and honest.”

“Now why would you do that?” he said, almost mocking you.

Because I love you…

“B-Because you’re not my friend, you’re much more than that to me,” you replied.

“What am I to you?”

The person I want to be with…

“You’re my Jungkook,” you said quietly, repeating the similar words he said to you when you two made love.

His silence, gives you enough courage to continue speaking, even if you were a sobbing mess. “And last night, you told me I was yours…” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks burn at the memory of all the moaning and pleasurable acts you two did.

But before you could continue your sentence, you heard Jungkook’s speak up, this time sounding a bit softer.

“What about that?” he didn’t know what to expect, but when he heard you choke out the reason, he stiffened.

“I want that to be true. I want to be with you Jungkook.”

“Why…” he whispered, feeling his heart beat quicken.

You know why, silly…

Even though you were crying, you couldn’t help but smile through it, as you felt shy suddenly to admit the reason. “I think you know why…”

His aggressive hold on you diminishes, so that now it was just him having his arms on either side of you, hovering over you. He was so close, it was almost like a back hug, even though you were still bent over the table.

“Can you enlighten me?” he asked softy, with a hint of uneasiness.

“Because…” you gulped, feeling a lump form in your throat since your nerves were getting the better of you. “It’s because I love you.”

After saying your confession, you suddenly felt strong hands grip your waist to flip you over, so you were now laying on your back. You can finally see his face, as he looks at your own with wide teary eyes.

And when he looked directly into your tear stained, and blushed face that had a small smile – he saw it. He saw the honestly and love behind your eyes. He knew it was true since the only other person who had cared for him, had that same sparkle of adoration in their eyes.

He then knew, that you were telling the truth. He believed you. But he couldn’t help but feel a remorseful sense crawl up the back of his spine when he continued to look into your loving eyes.

Why?

Because the last person who cared for him – was brutally killed by his own hands.

“J-Jungkook?” you quietly questioned sitting up on the table now, while he stood frozen, silently gaping at you.

Why was he just staring at you? But the look on his face made you worried, as it looked as if something was bothering him. Almost, as if he was scared of something…

Maybe he doesn’t love me back… you felt your heart shatter just to the thought of it.

Before you could even ask him if he was all right, he spoke in a shaky tone.

“Y/n…” he stammered nervously. “You can’t love me.”

Huh?

“W-why?” you asked in confusion.

He sighed in grief as he replied, “Because you deserve someone far better than me.”

What is he talking about? “What do you mean? Jun-”

“Bad things happen to anyone who’s around me Y/n,” he interrupted.

At the mention of “bad things” you remembered your phone call with Jin, and you felt your blood freeze. You were so caught up in making Jungkook believe you, that you had completely forgot about Jin’s warnings.

You were just still so confused though, as to what was happening. And that scared you. You just knew that you and Jungkook had to get out of there; immediately.

Driven by worry, you got off the table hastily and walked up to Jungkook, who was now looking down at the floor. You but your hands gently on his shoulders to make him look at you.

“Jungkook that’s not true. You aren’t a bad person,” you said firmly, while looking into his gloomy eyes.

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” he muttered in response, remembering all the horrible things he was forced to do.

What had gotten into him? Why was he so shaken up? You wanted to desperately make him feel better, but you also had to warn him about what Jin told you.

Ughh! What should I do!?

“Jungkook, I’ve dealt with a lot of ‘bad’ people before, and you are certainly not one of them,” you said as your grip remained on his shoulders. “Now please, you must listen to me. The reason Jin called me so randomly was because he was warning me about something…”

His eyes remained sullen as he asked you, “Warn about what?”

“I-I don’t know…” you trailed off, as you were starting to panic since you were scared. “He said that someone was coming, to k-kill us. I don’t know who, but lets just get out of here, please let’s just leave!”

Jungkook’s fists balled up, and his nostrils flared as he was quick to conclude who it was Jin had warned you about.

“I know who it is…” he spoke with venom, as he closed his eye in anger.

“You do? Who-”

“It’s my father,” he interrupted, while he was trying his best to control his emotions.

Father? Didn’t he say that his parents were dead?

Confused, you asked, “I thought you said your parents passed away?”

“I don’t consider that monster my father. I can’t even consider him as a human,” he snarled in hatred.

This wasn’t making any sense to you – why would his own father want to kill him? What about his mother?

As if he read your mind, he reluctantly said, “And as for my mother…” he trailed off, trying his best not to let the tears fall from his eyes. “I… k-killed her.”

He felt your hands on his shoulders stiffen, as he saw you looking at him with wide gaping eyes.

You just stood there, not knowing what to do or say – just completely shocked. There were a billion questions running through your mind, but the only thing you could muster out of your mouth was, “Why…?”

Jungkook looked at you through tearful eyes, as you saw a certain darkness gloom over them. “Because… it wasn’t her…”

What?

But before you could question him about it, the door to his apartment suddenly broke down, startling you.

You both snapped your heads to the entrance and to both your horrors, see a group of ten men stomping in, all of them armed with guns.

Before any of you could react, you saw all the men raising their guns, cornering both you and Jungkook.

They found us…

Then they fired, sending several sleeping darts into your directions…

…knocking both you and Jungkook, unconscious to the ground.

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #btswriters #kreativewritersnet #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts scenarios #jin #jeon jungkook #aitd #mafia!au #bts fic #kim seokjin

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