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kira-fluff · 3 years

Note

Heeey!

Saeyoung, Yoosung, Jumin and Zen reacting to to “hotel only one bed” trope ? ♥️

a/n: of course you can lovely! <3 *AHEM* Lemme just say this trope is ELITE and I will NEVER not love it // also, i’m writing it like it’s before they’re dating (OF COURSE) because I want it to be spicy (actually that’s the only thing that would make sense for this prompt but you get my point whatever). ALSO also I’m basing the fancy hotel off my stay at the Ritz Carlton (it was like $25,000 a night) because my grandma couldn’t manage money N E WAYSS. Also, if y’all could let me know whether you prefer Y/N to MC pls lmk k thx

TW: drunk old lady w/no filter, gets pretty suggestive because I couldn’t help myself, an overbearing aunt, savage Italians, and loud hotel neighbor

Note: omfg i accidentally made this so long oh well here’s yo present lmao

“There’s only one bed” PT.1 PT.2

Saeyoung

Getaway missions are mad cool until you can’t sleep

When you finally neared the parking entrance to your hotel you were SO looking forward to taking a nice hot shower before shimming into the covers of your crisp, (clean, you hoped) sheets.

It was past 3AM when Saeyoung finally drove his elegant vehicular device (because what other word is there for it) into a secured parking space

“Because I don’t trust those shady valets, y/n.”

“Whatever you say, Seven”, you replied groggily.

You hauled ass up to the front desk, then to the elevator of the exquisite hotel you were staying at

not that you cared

because S L E E P

but Saeyoung likes to quote Jurassic Park (because of course he does) like “I spare no expense, y/n”

“I’m too tired to laugh”

*gASP*

“Not everyone naturally stays up until the early morning light before going to sleep.”

“It really should become a thing, it’s honestly very iconic of me.” (it’s not)

By the time your conversation ended you were glad to see your hotel number and a little key card slot.

Saeyoung made a show of sticking the key card in like a spy or something

it was funny for normal y/n but not for tired y/n

“Here’s your room, M’lady.”

He held the door open to your room as you looked around the room

a large, lush bed set before a ginormous flat screen TV with complimentary expensive chocolates laid before you as well as complimentary take-home elegant towels and slippers.

suddenly, you heard a knock on the door

blinking in confusion, you opened to see it was Saeyoung

“Um.. hey! What’s up?”

Saeyoung looked a bit bewildered himself before saying,

“Hey, so, I realized my key card was the same room number as yours and I was like ‘That’s weird!’ so I called the front desk who verified that I had placed a reservation for one room, not two, so I hacked into their system to see what went wrong and if I could change it but it looks like they’re completely booked and I think I had made the reservation before I knew that you had to come along and I’m so sorry”

he was breathless after the mouthful he just gave you

As it was 3AM a drunk, old woman was tripping her way to her room and shouted much louder than she should at 3AM, “Kiss her already n’ fuck, ya youngin’s!”

Saeyoung’s hair now matched his face :)

His ears were tipped bright red before coughing awkwardly

“I can sleep on the ground. I’ve done it plenty of times, it’s actually pretty comfy.”

“Um, Sev’ I’m not going to make you just sleep on the floor. If you want--”

“You’re not making me, y/n, I want to do this”

“Actually I think I’ll sleep on the floor, I sleep a lot better on the ground”, you fibbed.

“You’re sleeping on that big ass bed.”

“No you are.”

“If you don’t listen I’ll sleep in the bath tub instead of the floor.”

“Then I’LL sleep outside the room!”

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”

“WATCH ME”

the phone rang, a worker politely asking you to quiet a bit down because even with your luxurious privacy walls, guests could still hear you arguing.

Saeyoung began whisper shouting, “Guess that settles it.”

he plopped on the ground, fake snoring with his arm as a pillow

you sighed

“Fine, if neither of us are going to agree to this then we are both going to sleep in this bed.”

Saeyoung blushed lightly at your boldness, a tad worried you’d find him creepy or weird

You started again, beginning to undress a little, causing Seven to yelp in panic and turn around immediately, shielding his eyes,

Now in your tank top and your leggings you’d been wearing under sweatpants and a t-shirt, you said, “I’m gonna go take a quick shower and go to bed. I’m so tired.”

Seven turned around only when he’d heard the bathroom door shut

he sighed, What am I going to do with this girl.

By the time you’d come out of the bathroom, drying your wet hair, Seven was lying on the bed, clad in casual t-shirt and jeans.

“Come on, Saeyoung, you have comfy clothes! It’s okay, change! I’m done in the bathroom now.”

“Nah, this is fine.” This was not fine. Saeyoung was out of his area of expertise of expecting the unexpected because God you were so unpredictable.

“Please” you jutted out your bottom lip in a little pout, being sure to make eye contact with him

Something glowered in his eyes for a split second before he half-smiled saying, “Ah, little Y/n, you know I can’t say no to you when you go all sad on me.”

He stepped into the bathroom to change, but let’s be honest. He was freaking the fuck out.

he covered his flushed face, changing into his soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt. he was scared

the more comfortable he became the more likely he’d accidentally get closer to you and then you’d freak out because you’d hear the sound of his heart beat like it’s a fucking rave concert and then you’d be weirded forever and quite possibly never talk to him again

but on the outside, he stepped out of the bathroom, whipping his phone out with a huge smirk saying, “Smile”

you threw up a peace sign with your tongue sticking out

he laughed before sending it to the RFA chat

707: Sleepover lolol [see attachment]

immediately both your phones blew up with buzzes of notifications from the chat

you laughed lightly, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear

this was gonna be a long night for Seven.

Zen: UGH get away from her!!!!!!!!!111!!1!!

Jumin: Maybe you should learn to type first.

Zen: shut it cat freak

Zen: seven answer

Zen: hey

Zen: y/n, text “qwerty” if you’re in any kind of danger

Jumin: What a strange code.

You: qwerty :(

707: lololololol

Zen: !!!!!

Zen: ASJDHKJFASHFKJA

Jumin: -_-

Zen: WE NEED A CAR, NO A HELICOPTER im omw!!

You: just kidding <3 i’m fine you guys

707: lololol

Jumin: Have a bit more faith in your subordinates, Zen.

You closed the chat and muted your phone, expecting the incoming argument that was quickly to ensue.

You patted the bed lightly, ushering Saeyoung to lie down next to you.

He obliged, though he politely laid at the far edge of the left side of the bed.

You yawned before shutting the light off and whispering a “good night”.

Saeyoung glanced at the clock. 4AM. Only 15 minutes had passed. You were breathing softly in your sleep within the 10 minutes after you’d said goodnight and here he was still awake.

You suddenly tousled in your sleep, and Saeyoung raised his head, whispering a soft, “Did I wake you up?”

You replied with a soft moan before abruptly turning left onto his corner of the bed and grabbing for the first thing you’d felt -- his torso.

Saeyoung’s breath hitched as he felt you exploring the new found “object”, running your fingers up and down his torso and nearing dangerous areas below

Saeyoung whisper-shouted, “What are you doing?”

He leaned closer to hear your reply, but your only answer was more soft little snores

Saeyoung sighed, trying to lightly grab your wrists without waking you up, and directing toward yourself

no matter how hard he’d try, your arms kept finding his own

your nails would softly ghost over his chest or neck, causing him to shiver and blush profusely

again, he sighed, trying his hardest not to give into your sleepy state

until you broke him with a soft utterance, “Sae....young..”

Saeyoung’s eyes widened to the size of saucers before he dared to look down at you, your hair curling on the bed every which-way.. your mouth slightly agap...

he groaned, his brows furrowed and his eyes shut

at last he slunk his arms around your torso, being sure to respectfully keep them high around your waist

he buried his face in the crook of your neck to subconsciously try to hide his ever growing blush (and erection)

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this ‘friend’ thing when you’re driving me this crazy, y/n.

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug

shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

Yoosung

this bean is lonely uwu

so when he’d invited to you go with him on a trip his uncle had paid for, you felt bad saying “yes” because it’s a paid trip!!

until he begged you because his cousin Chaewon would be there and he was always really pushy and borderline a huge fuck boi

so you conceded

but hey free trip for the both of you minus shitty family gatherings with no one you know, right?!

you hope there’s at least one dog. and alcohol.

dog + alcohol at a party = an actual fun fucking time

you were glad Yoosung was there with you because he honestly couldn’t agree with you more

You opened your beach-side resort room to find there’s only one bed.

Yoosung blanched and quickly dialed his auntie, who’d made the resort reservations

“Ah...hi auntie! Um, how come there isn’t a separate room for me and y/n?”

his aunt cackled into the phone, “Aren’t you an old fashioned little gentlemen!!! Awe~~~ you’ve grown up to be such a good boy! <3 Well don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my sister or your pops. Enjoy the time you have with your adorable girlfriend and get it on a little!! I’ve got condoms if ya need ‘em honey~~ Remember dearie, when the shlong is not covered, the child support better be.”

Yoosung hurriedly hung up the phone, his face completely red, praying you hadn’t heard the conversation that’d just ensued.

You did

but you smile and say, “So.. what’d they say?”

He cleared his throat before saying, “Well, --err.. Basically there’s been a little mishap. B-but don’t worry!! I can just ask Chaewon if I can spend the night in his room.”

“Didn’t you say he leaves a sock on the door handle every time--”

“YES but I want you to be comfortable, okay! It’s really not a big deal.”

You shyly smiled while looking down before softly saying, “You can sleep with me.”

Yoosung’s eyes widened and you quickly looked up, your face flushing to a deep crimson

“I-I-I meant in the bed!!! With me. We can lie together. In the bed---- I mean we--”

Yoosung could practically see the steam coming out of your ears and the room felt a LOT hotter

“S-sure! Sounds great.” he had a feeling if you didn’t agree you’d end up embarrassing yourself further.. and he didn’t want you to feel bad. And he didn’t want those thoughts circulating his mind again.

“Alright, so I’m going to hop in the shower, y/n... unless you want to go first?”

Gulping down some complimentary water you’d found in the hotel mini fridge, you quickly replied with a shake of your head.

Nodding, Yoosung make quick work of washing his hair and trying to give himself a pep talk before he would be sleeping next to you.

Thankful for the big size of the resort bed, you climbed under the covers, already beginning to feel sleep take you

When Yoosung had at last dried himself off and walked out to the bed area of the resort room, he gazed at how small you looked, hugging a soft pillow in your arms, your eyes fluttered shut

He looked away, feeling like a creep.

He shut off the light after making a call to the resort staff to wake him up at 8AM as directed by his uncle’s itinerary

He slid under the covers, shoving a pillow in between the two of you as a little border to separate the two of you

it wasn’t until further in the night when Yoosung had felt a jolt and he looked up in panic, through the blackness recognizing the pillow-border had been cast onto the ground

and even more noticeably, your leg was swung over his hip, your body flush to his own

your arms were snaked around his neck

he felt like he could feel every inch of you

your soft breath just below his ear

your soft .. er.. chest... against his torso

your stomach and .. the rest of it... against his own

Yoosung could not breathe

like someone actually help this man for he is losing oxygen by the minute

He squeezed his eyes shut and make the executive decision to wait it out til morning

he was terrified that if he’d move you, you’d wake up and see just how much you affect him.

And so, when the phone rang that morning, you’d startled, looking up to see your tangled limbs lying on top of his own

“oH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY YOOSUNG UGH IT’S A HABIT OF MINE AHAHHSAHDAJSHS”

he looked at you with eyes that had noticeable circles under them (darker than even after his LOLOL gaming)

“you look like you didn’t sleep much.... --- Is it because of me!? Oh my god I’m so sorry you should’ve just shoved me off or something seriously I didn’t mean to do it on purpose, honest!!”

“N-no, no it’s really not!! I promise!!” He tried his best to grin, though it probably looked like a grimace, because the next thing you said was, “I’ll make it up to you”

“You don’t need to do that. Really, I liked it.”

It took a moment for him to realize what he just said.

“I-I mean I like you! I mean I liked sleeping with you!!! I mean--!!”

Yoosung was quickly spinning circles in his mind

you couldn’t help the little giggle that came out of your mouth, “I guess we’re pretty similar, huh?”

Yoosung smiled lightly, “Yeah, guess so.”

You walked out together toward the breakfast area of the resort

“Hey”, you started, “Is.. Did you mean what you said? About liking me?”

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.”

You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!”

Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?”

Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel

This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung.

Yeah.

Gotta love relatives.

Jumin

You received a call from a stern voice you didn’t recognize

<<“Hello. This is Mr. Han’s chauffeur. I’m approximately 6.3 miles away from your residence. Do not worry about clothes or other necessities. All will be provided for you.”>>

“Uh.. thanks? Where....?”

<<“Mr. Han has invited you to join him on his stay at the Ppalgan Vineyard Estates. Have you not received the notification?”>>

You glanced at your phone, seeing two unread messages on your phone.

You read them, feeling bad you hadn’t seen them before.

“Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Tell him I said thank you. Are you sure it’s okay for me to attend?”

<<“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Han gave me specific instructions to assure you would be able to come with him. I have been ordered to give 2 minute updates following your being picked up. I can assure you, it is his utmost wish that you join him this weekend. I’d be honored to thank him on your behalf, though I feel it would mean much more to him if you said it to him rather than me.” >>

“You’re right, thank you. And thanks for driving me. And for all the other stuff you said”, you replied nervously.

<<”There is no need to thank me, Miss. I am glad to serve Mr. Han in anyway I can.”>>

The call hung up before you could spout out more thank yous

you phone buzzed, startling you.

you clicked the notification

<<(XXX-XXX-XXXX HAN COMPANIES) I’ve arrived at your residence. Let me know if there is anything I can carry for you. Sent 13:52>>

You quickly texted a reply of gratitude before rushing down the stairs out of your apartment, not wanting to make Jumin’s chauffeur wait.

“Good to see you Miss Y/L/N. Is there anything I can get you? I have been given orders to purchase anything you may want or need on our way to the airport.”

He quickly texted something on his phone, presumably a text to Jumin about your safe arrival to his limo.

“A-airport? You mean, like, flying? Are you sure I don’t need my wallet? It’s not too late for me to go grab it, right? I have my debit card on my phone too, otherwise.”

“Miss Y/L/N you are not to spent a single won on this vacation. All is paid for.”

“But my clothes... I don’t want Jumin to have to pay for all new things!!”

"I assure you, money is not something Mr. Han wishes for you to be concerned with.”

You’d stayed silent at that, feeling bad that you’d already bothered the poor man who’d just been ordered to drive you, not reassure you of Jumin’s financial affairs.

You grew quiet, looking out the window as trees, streets, and cars zoomed past you.

“If you so wish, there are numerous meals options in the compartments below the seats as well as alcohol, carbonated beverages and iced water glasses. You are, of course, welcome to any of these. Please do not hesitate to notify me if there is something you’d like instead. We’d glad to make it a regular option in all of our limousines.”

You flushed, embarrassed at the amount of power Jumin’s words, and effectively, your own seemed to have on the entire Han Conglomerate as a whole. You laughed a little, it was funny thinking to yourself that you had so much power as to decide snack options for Jumin’s cars.

Jumin was extra like that, he always went above and beyond to make you comfortable. You loved that about him. It made you feel a little spoiled, so you instinctively rejected most offers at things that seemed to further complicate his worker’s duties.

You had no idea that when the chauffeur had said airport he meant the Han Private Airway Transportation Zone.

As in... private jet.

It was hard not to feel like you were in a whole different world.

Not that Jumin treated you that way... but it was hard not to notice!

You bowed in thanks to the driver before hastily finding your way to the nearest man standing in another black suit, his hands folded together in front of him.

As soon as you uttered your name, his whole demeanor changed and he instantly had gone from cool and collected to humble and overwhelmingly kind.

He’d quickly made his way to the boarding area, escorting you to the jet before leaving you at a polite distance way from Jumin who’d been looking at you from the moment you’d entered the aircraft.

His eyes searched your own as you’d yet to discover his presence

He couldn’t help but rake his eyes up and down your body, admiring the way you could look just in anything.

He at last saw you searching the spacious cabin, at last laying eyes on him.

His heart pounded faster, as if your noticing him made his heart leap in joy

You looked relieved and smiled, running over to him and sitting down next to him

“Hi Jumin!! Oh, should I be calling you Mr. Han? That’s what your chauffeur called you.. sorry if that’s what I should’ve been addressing you as!!”

His deep voice rumbled in your ear, causing you to shudder, “Jumin is fine.”

You gazed up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his perfectly tailored vest made him look so... well... for lack of better word...hot.

“Wow. You look...” Your eyes moved from his hair, to his face, to his neck, to his torso, slowly to his groin, to his legs... before you realized what you’d been doing and quickly your eyes shot up again.

You bit your lip, “You look nice.”

“Nice?”

You laughed shyly, and slightly (embarrassingly) breathless, “Yeah. Yeah you do. Nice.”

Jumin couldn’t help the sly smile he’d been holding back before replying, “You look beautiful.”

You flushed and looked down, squirming in your seat a little before looking at him once more, offering a small, “..thank you..”

After a few minutes of silence, you’d decided to change the subject, chattering on about how you wondered what this mysterious vacation would hold

Jumin couldn’t help is concentration half on every word you were saying, but also your lips. Slowly licking his own, he nodded along when you’d gotten especially enthusiastic, grinning slightly when you’d gotten so excited you’d leapt out of your luxury seat.

Within a half hour of the trip to your destination in Italy, Jumin had trouble concentrating on much else.

Get it together, Jumin, you’re not some fool like Zen.

It’d gotten worse the more you’d leaned further in your seat, your chest becoming slightly exposed

he covered his mouth with a hand, opting for looking out one of the many windows of the jet.

You’d always caught his attention and made him lose his focus -- something he’d never lost before he met you

He blamed the strawberry sent that you’d always carried with you

He wasn’t much for expensive, faux perfume that so many of his father’s skanks would wear... it was like no other.

After a few hours of grueling torture on your part (though you hadn’t know every single time you’d grabbed his hand or arm it’d sent his heart on a sky dive) Jumin was glad to have arrived in the gorgeous Italian acreage of the countryside.

It was even more beautiful at the dusk of night, you’d decided

Immediately a shiny vehicle pulled up, ready to transport you and Jumin to the estate you were to be residing in for the weekend.

Upon pulling into the culdesac, you almost scoffed at the word “estate” -- it was more of a country in and of itself, land stretched beyond what you could see

The mansion itself stood on pillars and high, Gothic windows.

Inside, flying buttresses decorated the building, giving it an elegant and aged ambiance that you just adored

“It’s so beautiful.”

He smiled at you then, watching you take in the wonders he’d realized he took for granted.

He was then directed to a double-door entrance way, “Your room, Mr. Han, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Separate, correct?”

The man stood in surprise, looking slightly aghast, “T-they never specified such details.”

“Contact them immediately to confirm. I’ll work it out from there.”

“Yes, Mr. Han.” From there, the man scurried away to contact the head of the estate.

After a few moments, he returned, “The Rossi Conglomerate had assumed that you’d brought your fiance with you.”

“Did you mention I don’t have one?”

“Y-yes, of course! But, Mr. Han, your father--”

Jumin sighed, “I’ll take care of it.” with a wave of his hand, the man was gone

You thanked him on his way out.

Jumin looked at you, searching for a reaction of displeasure or worry

When he didn’t find one, he began, “I was notified the Rossi had booked their other estates to their American investors. My being here is a formality, but it is business. It would be a great discourtesy to demand--”

You smiled reassuringly, “Jumin, don’t worry about it.. we’ll share the bed, okay?” You held your hand in his own, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles.

Jumin looked at you, choking on his spit slightly.

“Y/N you do understand that--”

“It’s fine, Jumin!! It’s late already, I’ll just put up my hair.. and.. do you know where the night clothes would be?”

He watched as you fixed a bobby pin between your teeth before running your fingers through your hair, watching as you arched your back to--

“Jumin? ...you don’t know?”

He cleared his throat, looking away, pink dusting his cheeks

“Bathroom.”

You thanked him, unaware of his watchful eyes

It had been a few seconds since you’d entered the bathroom before he heard a loud and alarmed, “..UM....JUMIN...?!”

He’d quickly made his way into the bathroom

“What’s wro--”

He looked and laying on the long granite island of the large bathroom was a silky set of lingerie as well as a note in Italian you couldn’t read.

Jumin’s words stopped dead on his lips as he stared at you, then the silky underwear set, you, silky underwear, you.......silky underwear.

On the outside, Jumin liked to think he came off as calm and collected, saying, “I can get you something else to wear.”

But when he’d made it two steps out of the bathroom he had a little collision. And by collision, I mean his face.. and the wall.

He looked in every drawer, finding nothing. He presumed clothes would be delivered as specified. But it was late already.. their servants are dismissed, only the protective guards surrounded the inside and outside of the estate.. explaining the situation to them didn’t seem very promising.

Of course you were kicking yourself, before you’d found their little....gift... you’d cast your days clothes into the washer. They were probably soaked by now.

Maybe I could use a hair dryer...? Or I could stuff them in the dryer??

Either way you’d be without clothes for.. too long.

And nothing would be greater punishment then showing all that in front of the man you had completely fallen for...

You heard a knock on the bathroom door. You listened from inside.

“Hey, I, uh, couldn’t find anything. Do you think you could wear your clothes from today?”

You whimpered, on the verge of tears, “I already put it in the washer!”

He knocked again, “Can I hand you something?”, he asked, undoing the buttons of his formal shirt.

“C-close your eyes!”

Jumin chuckled darkly before covering his eyes and handing her his collared shirt

“I’d give you the pants, too, but I don’t think they’d really fit you. Could you look at what they’d provided for me? Maybe slip on something from mine.”

“N-no! That’d be even worse for me!! .. and you!” You blushed again imagining him half naked

You hurriedly shuffled through the drawers, but to no avail.

You gulped, slipping on the lingerie to ensure that maybe something would be covered before buttoning Jumin’s formal shirt on you as well.

it was so big it didn’t leave much for the imagination

but you decided through a 10 minute pep talk that you’d suck it up and try your best to make his shirt into a night gown.

You at last stepped out of the bathroom, Jumin’s head shooting toward the sudden noise before taking you in

He could scarcely breathe, much less come up with a coherent sentence

you were in his shirt...

with barely any clothes on underneath

and you looked up at him shyly, biting your lip a little

drawing even more attention to your lips

Jumin had to stifle a groan, opting to head to the bathroom to change

After splashing some cold water on his face in a poor attempt to get his head out of the gutter, he quickly got on his pjs

after you both were ready for bed, Jumin sat on the bed, opening a small novel he’d been enjoying, Anthem.

His attention was immediately diverted from the dystopian fiction when he saw you were stretching

His shirt rode up high as he took in the way the lingerie perfect accentuated your curves, though it didn’t cover much below the waist

Noticing your folly, your eyes widened in shock before you immediately put your hands down

which, just your luck, made it all worse.

the sudden movement disheveled the shirt, causing it to ride down completely on one side, openly displaying the soft brassiere beneath it

Jumin slammed his book so hard it left an echo in the large room.

Great. He couldn’t even make it look like his book was suddenly unbelievably interesting that he just so happened to not take notice of the obvious sight before him.

You blanched, feeling a breeze along your shoulder, gasping before running to your side of the bed and pretending you don’t exist anymore

Meanwhile Jumin is in a c r i s i s

In the most eloquent of words, his mind said holy fucking motherfucking shit oh my God fuck fuck fuck AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh my god shit shit shit fuck shit sdfasodjgiajsidogjosdg MALFUNCTION!! WARNING!!!! RUN BITCH!!!

But Jumin didn’t run

because mama ain’t raise no bitch

but also because if he stood up it would be blatantly obvious that he had--

Stop thinking about it, Jumin.

He tried to redirect his mind to his 5 senses, a grounding technique he’d learned when he got too anxious when he was younger

But sight seemed to dominate it as his mind replayed your facial expressions, the way your hands awkwardly tried to cover yourself up, the way you looked the way he’d take it all off---

Oh God. I’m deep in shit.

He had never been so pissed at himself... and embarrassed.

He looked over at you, a horrible decision, really.

You were still awake, your face was redder than the strawberry sent that adorned you

“s-sorry..” you whispered, willing yourself to try to forget, “pretend that never happened..”

Jumin was practically feral and you were saying it never happened?

Jumin couldn’t just pretend he didn’t just see a fucking goddess

but he would for you

“..........pretend what never happened?”

You sighed, a small smile on your face as you quickly turned to thank him

but he was a LOT closer than you imagined

he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at you, his head slightly angled.

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart.

And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes

Jumin felt confusion when you’d done this

he can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.”

He shut off the light, reaching over you

You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you

unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

Zen

Was Zen going to invite you to his own fucking tour?

Of course he was

he liked flexing his connections

and most of all, showing you just how much he cared about you

and loved you

but not the love part because God if you ever found out Zen might jump into the nearest body of water and never return

not that he didn’t have any confidence

he has lots of it

but it all kind of disintegrates when he gets to talking about his real feelings

But come on, it was blatantly obvious to anyone who had heckin eyes

or ears

or just any functioning body

the way he’d try to subtly throw an arm over your shoulder

or he’d lean in whenever you spoke

or the way he’d readjust his posture when you walked into a room

or the way everyone caught him staring

like anytime you weren’t looking

or when you are looking because he is “built different”

So the limo ride to the fancy hotel he was to stay at was something that had him looking forward to the tour, but also dreading it

you’d sat close to him in the limo because his agent and other workers were sitting along with him.

So close that your ass got pushed further and further onto his lap

because damn where the fuck are we and why are there so many goddamn potholes

Zen tried to steady you by firmly grabbing your hips

which was NOT the move

because now that you were firmly set on his lap, every bump felt like a fucking war against his hormones.

Like a gentleman, he quickly opted to seat you next to him, not wanting you to feel embarrassed

still, he could feel you being pulled closer to him with every long turn the limo made or every bump or abrupt stop

and it was torture.

like this man is sweating

but by some miracle you arrive at the hotel in one piece! Yay!

but Zen’s soul has left his body~~

so you get set up

You open the room, “Look, Zen! This bed is HUGE!!”, you ran over to it and plopped your face onto the sheets

He chuckled, watching you act like a little kid excited about a hotel for the first time

his brows furrowed when he realized there was no door separator between your rooms

He immediately called the front desk

all you could over hear was “No, there seems to be some kind of mistake”

and “I reserved two rooms -- conjoined”

“Alright, ok. Thanks.” and then he hung up.

“So..” he sighed, “They can’t get another room because they’re completely booked. Someone must’ve recognized the limo and lots of fans immediately bought up all the rooms in hopes of seeing me.”

“It’s alright Zen! I can ask to switch with your agent or something!!”

“NO!” Zen said a little too loudly. “No. Um, look it would be bad because he’s a man.”

“Your a dude, too, Zen.”

“I-- yeah, but that’s different because I’m a guy you can trust.”

“True..”

“So I’ll sleep on the couch, ‘kay?”

“Zen, no! You need your beauty sleep to be ready for your performance tomorrow!!!”

“It’s alright, really!”

“I’ll sleep on the couch!”

“Like hell you will.”

“Please :(”

“Y/N, seriously--”

“Then how about this! You and I just sleep in the same bed!”

Ever the dramatic soul, Zen gasped with his palm over his heart “How SCANDALOUS!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Playboy?”

“Only for you, baby”, he winked.

You stuttered, “T-that’s not funny! Seriously don’t make it weird you horn- dog!”

He threw his head back in laughter, “Horn-dog?! I thought you said you trusted me!”

“Not when you’re obviously thinking about doing this and that to me!!”

“Doing this and tha---Hey! Who do you think I am?!”

There was suddenly a loud bang on the wall and a burly man shouted, “GO TO FUCKIN’ SLEEP YOU OBNOXIOUS, SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED LITTLE SHITS!”

You smirked, holding in a laugh saying, “Sounds like your fans are getting jealous.”

Zen’s mouth dropped and you began laughing hysterically

“T-that was like a 60 year old man!”

“I’M 42 YOU LITTLE SHIT”

You fell back on the bed, laughing louder

Zen shouted back, “WELL EXCUSE ME, SEXY, 42 YEAR OLD MAN”

There was silence before a harsh knock sounded at your door

All Zen’s bravado disintegrated and he made a dash for the bed, whispering loudly for you to “Turn off the fuckin’ lights, turn off the fuckin’ lights!”

You stifled more giggles rising up to your throat as you clicked off the light, making sure the room was locked, and climbed into bed

you breathed out your last laughs, sighing to yourself contentedly before noticing the close proximity you were to Zen

You stared at each other for a long moment

You leaned in closer

Zen placed a palm on your cheek, gently cupping it

he softly whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

You answered by harshly connecting your lips

The two of you feeding off each other’s oxygen as Zen bit your lip, causing you to gasp and open your mouth to make way for his tongue

you whimpered, feeling faint from lack of oxygen

the two of you parted, out of breath

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

but instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.”

He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity

But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?”

Um yeah rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much

I had honestly SO MUCH FUN writing this!! Let me know if you want, like, a part two to this. I think I’d just be so fun lol

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mortemersgf · 3 years

Text

serendipity pt.2

hot couture: hazel nguyen x f!mc (arden moore)

summary: hazel makes it up to arden for not flying her out to majorca.

click here for part 1

warning: nsfw content. minors, do not interact. by viewing this work, you consent you’re 18+

word count: 2.1k

@choicesficwriterscreations

a/n: my first smut!! pls be nice lmk what u guys think <3

Red wine.

Arden tastes red wine faintly on Hazel’s tongue as she presses her to the wall beside the door. It was almost beyond the bounds of possibility to keep her hands to herself as they were chauffeured to the hotel, so she wasted no time locking the door and drawing Hazel into a heated kiss. She steadies herself with a palm to the wall, her other hand cupping Hazel’s cheek. A quiet moan falls from Arden’s lips as she feels Hazel’s hands wander from her waist to over the curve of her ass, squeezing gently.

Hazel arches her back, pressing her body flush against Arden’s, as she wraps her arms around her hips. She lets out a breathy laugh while Arden’s lips trail to the soft skin of her neck, peppering the area with soft kisses.

“What?” Arden murmurs.

“You’ve been wanting this for so long, haven’t you?” Hazel questions. She cups Arden’s face so their eyes meet. Arden is still entrancing with her lipstick slightly smudged, hair mussed, Hazel realizes. She would’ve deemed the look sloppy had it been anyone else, but Arden pulls it off, and she does it well.

Arden smiles wolfishly, capturing Hazel’s lips in another kiss before answering, “Haven't you? From what I can remember, you seemed to have enjoyed yourself the last time we did something like this.”

“It was a shame I didn’t get to have my way with you.”

Arden holds back a moan and responds by drawing Hazel into another kiss. Their mouths move in sync against each other’s as Arden snakes her arms around Hazel’s body to find the zipper to her gown. She can’t wait a moment longer only imagining how Hazel looks underneath the dress.

Hazel helps with the effort and eases herself out of the garment without much difficulty. The dress is surely costly having been worn by her, but it’s long forgotten as it pools by their entangled legs. Arden marvels at the woman before her, cheeks warming. Aphrodite herself carved Hazel Nguyen, there’s no doubt about it.

“Getting a good look?” Hazel asks, unclasping her bra in one fluid motion. The lace bra drops to the carpeted floor with a light thud.

Arden could melt. She could evaporate into a puddle right now and be content having seen Hazel this way, but she doesn’t, choosing to take her hand instead. She brings Hazel to the drawer, positioning her against the edge.

“You’re overdressed,” Hazel notes.

Arden lets out a small laugh, shrugging out of her blazer and unbuttoning the top two buttons of her dress shirt. “Better?”

“Not really.” Hazel traces a finger down the center of Arden’s chest, stopping her movement to feel the material of the shirt. “Take this off.”

Arden’s heart thrums with desire, but she refuses to relent. She wants to tease Hazel, so she simply sinks to the floor and instructs, “Maybe later. Grab on tight.”

Hazel is more than pleased seeing Arden on her knees with eager eyes and parted lips. She obliges happily, curling her fingers around the wooden edges of the dresser and jutting her hips.

Arden’s face is about level with Hazel’s sex. She places one hand on her thigh, stroking the soft skin with her thumb. She presses gentle kisses to either thighs and with her other hand, she runs her index finger along Hazel’s clothed folds, delighted to find her lace panties dampened with arousal.

“All this for me?” Arden asks, glancing up at Hazel.

Hazel offers Arden a sultry smile in return. “Don’t act so surprised.”

Keeping eye contact, Arden licks at her heat, just to tease her, to gauge her reaction. Hazel’s head tilts upward, and she releases a soft sigh, threading her slender fingers into Arden’s hair.

“Don’t tease,” she murmurs.

And Arden obeys, pulling aside her panties and licking her from slit to clit. She repeats the motion for a couple of more times before swirling her tongue around Hazel’s clit, pulling moans after moans out of her. Arden relishes the sinful sounds tumbling out of mouth and uses it as encouragement to wind her up even higher. Hazel sounds beautiful. She’s unraveling right before Arden, and Arden adores it.

She sinks one finger into Hazel, adding another when Hazel breathes, “More.”

Arden curls the digits diligently as her tongue rejoins the effort. The sensation of Arden’s fingers pumping inside her sends Hazel into euphoric bliss. She tightens her grip on Arden’s hair as she hits a particularly sensitive spot, making Hazel’s breath hitch.

I should be the one bringing her to the brink, again and again, Hazel thinks. And silently, to herself, she promises to do so.

Hazel rolls her hips, feeling the coil in her stomach tighten with every lap of Arden’s tongue against her. It’s not long until she’s crying out Arden’s name and quivering against her face. The waves of pleasure coursing through her body renders her speechless for a moment, and she can only stroke Arden’s hair, her cheek, as she rides out the rest of her high.

Content, Hazel brings Arden up to her feet and cradles her close, tasting herself on Arden’s tongue, while her fingers work deftly at her dress shirt.

Arden lets out a soft moan at her slightly rough handling, mumbling, “Hazel, be careful… This is a Frances Bacque exclusive.”

“I’ll replace it,” Hazel asserts.

And Arden’s stomach churns with need. She whimpers as Hazel runs a hand over her breast and reaches to unclasp her bra for easier access. A teasing smile rests on Hazel’s lips as she leans in for a gentle kiss. “Such a good girl.”

Lips still entangled, they stumble to the bed until Arden plops down on the mattress. She barely has time to kick off her heels and shimmy out of her pants before Hazel is hovering over her.

As Hazel’s lips nip at the column of Arden’s throat, her hand roams greedily over her chest. She toys with the pebbled peaks of Arden’s breasts, pinching and flicking. Arden gasps and arches into Hazel, head dizzy with pleasure as Hazel begins to kiss down her body. The sensation sends goosebumps across Arden’s limbs, and for a moment, she wants to giggle.

Regardless of how many times Hazel seals her lips to Arden, how many times her hands squeeze and trace every curve on Arden’s body, she’s in disbelief all the same. This is real, Arden reminds herself. Hazel feels the same way I do. Bliss blooms in her chest every time.

Hazel presses kisses to Arden’s collarbone, the valley of her breasts, and her stomach until she’s positioned where Arden needs her most. Hazel pushes apart Arden’s thighs gently, relishing how she glistens, how wet she is, as she kisses her soft skin.

“Please…” Arden says, voice strained.

Hazel spends little time teasing her. She gets to the point, licking long stripes up her folds. Arden’s back arches instinctively and she lets out a strangled squeal at the sudden sensation. She feels woozy, stomach fluttering and cheeks flushed. Her hands crush the smooth silk sheets beside her head as Hazel repeats the action.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” Arden breathes.

Hazel doesn’t plan on it. She adds onto Arden’s pleasure by thumbing her clit, and hums at the pretty sounds tumbling out of her mouth. Arden bucks her hips against Hazel’s face in the gentlest way, gasping quietly. Taking note of her impatience, Hazel responds by pushing two fingers into her.

She keeps pace for a few minutes, slowing her movements when Arden begins reaching blindly for her. Their hands find each other, and with a soft squeeze, Arden falls apart with a cry. She’s breathless as she comes undone, sweat beading at her hairline.

As Hazel strokes the top of Arden’s thighs, helping her come down from her high, she asks, “Will you be good and give me one more?”

Yes, yes, yes. I’ll give you a thousand more if you wanted. Sentences are much too difficult for Arden to string together in this moment, so she nods insistently as she rides out the rest of her climax, chest heaving and eyes fluttering closed.

Arden feels the bed shift as Hazel moves away from the mattress, padding to her luggage sitting in the corner of the spacious room. She returns with a vibrator in hand and slides the already buzzing toy between Arden’s legs, capturing the moan that spills out of her mouth with a kiss.

Hazel transfers her attention to either of Arden’s breasts, nipping and sucking with such expertise, Arden is sure there will be bruises the next day. Her stomach swirls with want at the thought of it.

Hazy from pleasure, Arden cups either side of Hazel’s face and mumbles in a heady whisper, “Kiss me.”

Hazel complies wordlessly. She’s looming over Arden again, but she takes a moment to appreciate the woman under her. She’d promised to bring Arden to the brink again and again, and so far, she’s keeping her word. Even with her cheeks flushed and eyes distant, Arden is a sight to behold. Hazel cups the side of her face, and she dips in for a soft kiss.

Already sensitive from her previous climax and winded up from the feeling Hazel’s lips against hers, Arden comes again within moments. She writhes underneath Hazel, panting and huffing out a breathy laugh.

Hazel extracts the vibrator, and keeping eye contact, she wraps her lips around the toy, tasting Arden. Despite her current state, Arden feels arousal pooling in her stomach once more. She catches her lower lip between her teeth, watching Hazel intently.

“Haven’t had enough yet?” Hazel questions.

“Not even close,” Arden says.

“Then let me take care of you.”

And she does. Again and again.

The first thing Arden notices when she rouses from sleep is the enticing smell of coffee. She inhales deeply and snuggles into the silk sheets, basking in the solace of the quiet morning. A stream of sunlight blinds her as she shifts around on the mattress and she groans, shielding her eyes with a hand. All is swell until she hears the sound of a toaster.

Her half lidded eyes widen in sudden realization. She shoots up into a sitting position, discovering that she is alone in bed.

“Oh my god,” Arden mumbles hoarsely, tracing her eyes over the vast room. Last night. It wasn’t a dream, was it? It really happened? She receives her answer as she glances down at her bare chest. It’s littered with purple marks, evidence that Hazel had her way with her.

Arden smiles to herself in spite of the soreness that’s spread throughout her body. She runs a hand through her tousled hair and slips out of bed, shuffling over to the pile of clothings Hazel had settled atop a cushy chair. Shrugging on the dress shirt she wore last night to clothe herself somewhat, she plods into the next room and finds Hazel.

Her back is turned to Arden. She wears a dark pantsuit, her brunette hair cascading down her shoulders in gentle waves.

Arden slouches against the doorframe and watches as Hazel spreads peach jam onto a slice of toasted bread. Hazel turns, pausing when she notices Arden smiling.

“You’re up,” she says, “How did you sleep?”

“Mm… good…”

Hazel nods. “I have a meeting in half an hour, so I’ll be leaving soon. Call me after you get off work.”

Arden grins. “I will.”

There’s a hint of a smile resting on Hazel’s lips seeing her beam like that. “Go shower. I laid out clothes and toiletries for you already.”

A surge of delight rushes through Arden. She murmurs a quick thanks to Hazel and finds her way into the bathroom, blushing when she takes in her disheveled appearance. After casting her dress shirt aside, she showers quickly, running the soaped loofah over her aching body. Fifteen minutes later, she pops out of the bathroom whilst drying her hair.

Hazel had left. The kitchen is empty, and the hotel room feels much bigger without her presence.

Arden shuffles to the island where a plateful of toast and strawberries await. A steaming mug of coffe sits beside the dish. Her surprise melts into elation, and she smiles. Arden is only slightly disappointed she isn’t able to share breakfast with Hazel, but she’s learned to take what she can get. After all, she is about to eat toast that Hazel toasted herself.

As Arden nibbles on her breakfast, her phone lights up with a new notification. It’s a text from Luz. She types out a quick reply just before biting into a strawberry.

Luz: How’s Milan?

Arden: Better than I could’ve ever imagined :)

#choices #playchoices #hazel nguyen #hot couture #hazel x mc #choices hot couture #choices hc #choices stories you play #choices fanfic #pixelberry

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stardustndice · 4 years

Text

——A Fire Exit. A Sword-Fight. An Overdue Discussion.

Part 2 of 2 of an FBI AU Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader Story. Read Part 1 Here.

a/n: It’s finally here! I’m so sorry this took so long, everyone. I’ve been so busy figuring out plans for my freshman year of college and I graduated high school! Very exciting. Anyways, please enjoy the final part, I’m very proud of it. Props to @hellotherekenobi for spawning this fic. Couldn’t have done it without ya.

tag list (either you asked to be tagged or I like your writing a whole lot): @kaminobiwan @karasong @morganas-pendragons (if you want to be tagged in future fics, lmk!)

warnings: mention of blood, minor violence, some hot stuff near the end ;)

“Because she isn’t you.”

You thought it was impossible to have the air knocked out of your lungs without having been pushed onto the ground. Evidently not.

Your heart feels like it’s about to tear itself out of your chest and blood is rushing to your cheeks as thousands of possibilities sprint across your thoughts. Every time you’d seen him in the past, scanned his face, or gazed at him when his back was turned, you always assumed he didn’t feel the same way, that you didn’t deserve someone so kind, so hardworking, so passionate about protecting the innocent. To your surprise and excitement, you were wrong.

Another shriek from the hostage wrenches you out of your daydreaming. The Negotiator steps into view of the abductor, but not before nodding at the collection of terrified patrons huddled near the bar and meeting your eyes. You get the gist and begin to step towards them, avoiding the neon spotlights shining from the ceiling. Scanning the room quickly, a fire exit catches your eye on the other end of the bar, just a short distance from the room Orwen expected you to ‘service’ him in.

“Rheva, I need you to talk to me,” you hear Kenobi say calmly. His shockingly calm demeanor when negotiating never fails to shock you but you still feel an ounce of worry at his seemingly nonchalant tone in these situations. “What happened?”

You can’t afford to turn around as you begin leading partiers out of the exit. You don’t want to know the possible carnage that could ensue in the event that such a delicate position is compromised.

“You think I’m an idiot, Kenobi?” someone sneers, you assume Rheva. “No one wears a fucking suit and tie to Kina’s, not unless they’re looking for something.” You hear an exasperated sigh from your partner and you suppress a giggle. As they continue speaking, a Togruta gives you a look of shock, probably at your giggling during a hostage situation. You shoo him to the exit. Once everyone besides a few stiff, armed guards remain, you turn to see how Obi Wan is doing, moving silently until you’re merely a few steps behind him.

“I know you’re looking for me. You and your pretty little friend,” Rheva spits, gesturing to you with her knife. At this point, the hostage, a girl who looks to be in her early twenties, is hysterical. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s frantically looking between you and Obi Wan, desperate for eye contact. Despite his deescalation expertise, you see Obi Wan tense slightly at Rheva’s not-so-fond nickname for you.

“Rheva, we’re looking for Sarek, not you. Has he done something to you?” Obi asks softly, cautiously taking a step forward. Almost imperceptibly, Rheva starts to shake, her grip on the knife becoming weaker. Both you and your partner notice. Your partner’s patience is thicker than yours, though, as he spots you itching to quickly diffuse the situation.

“He can’t...if I tell you, I’m dead!” she shrieks. Obi Wan’s brows furrow. This is new information. If Sarek has been telling whomever he sleeps with about his plans, then you’ve had everything you need without even knowing it.

“Tell us what?” you chime in, taking a step to stand at Kenobi’s side. You hear a clatter behind you and you turn quickly, pistol drawn. A trandoshan hisses and licks his fangs, the last thing you glimpse before someone hits you in the back of your head and the world goes dark.

Someone poking your cheek gently rouses you into the conscious world. You groan lazily until a harsh slap hits your cheek. At that, the world rushes into your brain like ice water dumped on a drunk sorority girl. After several rapid blinks to clear your cloudy vision, you whip your head towards the source of the hit.

Sarek grants you a sinister grin, his lizard tongue darting out to sound a signature trandoshan hiss. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that your hands are tied behind your chair with zip ties. A spark of hope flies in your chest.

Sarek will regret not using handcuffs later.

It’s not long before that spark is snuffed out and replaced with a venomous anger. A grunt sounds from behind Sarek and your eyes dart away from his pale golden eyes. Obi Wan is in the same predicament, although his left eye is now outlined in a garish, swelling plum. As your blood boils you look around for an escape route. Nothing adorns the dusty concrete walls besides cracks and mold, so you assume however Sarek entered the room is out of your line of sight.

“Maybe your friend isn’t as tight-lipped as you, Kenobi,” Sarek drones, and you wrench your head away when he drags a claw down your jaw. A cry escapes you when he grasps your hair and yanks your head back towards him. It’s truly painful, though, when he steps aside, still holding your hair, to show your partner. When you make eye contact with him, ashamed, his eyes widen and his mouth opens barely, only to be replaced immediately by an angry mask. “Don’t touch her, Sarek.”

“And why not? What exactly are you going to do about it tied to a chair?” Sarek giggles maniacally, his back to you but you’re sure he’s baring his teeth grotesquely.

As quietly as possible, you begin to shimmy your hands, now in fists, out of the zip tie. It stabs into your wrists, but adrenaline and determination push you to keep pulling and twisting. Your partner notices your efforts and focuses on Sarek. He takes a leap of faith.

“We have Kaiela.”

For a moment you pause, your head shooting up to raise a shocked brow at Obi Wan, but he doesn’t return your gaze, and you quickly resume your task, praying that his risky bluff won’t get the both of you executed. You’re not too worried; Obi Wan has a 100% success rate at life-or-death mission improv thus far.

“If you let us go, we’ll give you two a happy little reunion,” Obi snarks. Time passes as Sarek stares down at Obi Wan, who huffs a strand of hair out of his eyes, all the while maintaining Sarek’s gaze. You’ve nearly wrangled yourself out of the zip ties when Sarek’s cackle makes your heart drop. “Oh, Kenobi, you handsome idiot,” he drawls and leans forward, whispering loudly “she’s with me.”

Everything happens at once. The zip ties snap apart and you lunge for Sarek right as he turns to smirk at you. His smile vanishes and you deliver a powerful blow to his solar plexus and he crumples gracelessly to the ground. Your eyes narrow when you notice an empty sheath for a small knife on his waist and look at Obi Wan. The world screeches to a halt for the second time tonight when you see a knife sticking out of his stomach. You spring up to inspect his wound and he winces when you touch the handle. Taking it out would make matters much worse. “Christ, I’m glad you never became a doctor,” he mumbles while you snatch another knife from Sarek’s inventory.

“We don’t have much time. He’ll only be out for another minute or so. We have to leave. Were you conscious when he dragged us in here?” you ask. Obi Wan nods and looks somewhere behind you. Once you follow his gaze after cutting him free, you see a large metal door. It takes some effort, but you manage to help him limp out the door only to groan upon seeing Sarek’s garishly-decorated office. A gold chandelier hangs from the marble ceiling and plush fur rugs are piled on top of each other in a seating area by the exit, you assume to whatever ‘jail’ the two of you were dragged here from. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view of the starlit harbor, the ocean peacefully rolling into wooden pillars holding up the dock.

Halfway across the room: that’s how far you get before you wince upon hearing a metal slam and reptilian growl from behind you. You’re surprised when Obi Wan stands on his own to turn to Sarek, determined. Sarek, however, is not nearly as composed. Both of you sidestep Sarek’s messy charge, but you tense when he quickly pulls out...a sword? If it wasn’t for your partner slowly bleeding out and how painful your heels are getting, you'd laugh, but Sarek holds the blade to Obi Wan’s throat and backs him into the burgundy wallpaper in front of you.

By the grace of the gods, you spot an atrocious-looking display to your left, holding a gaudy and intricate broadsword. The rug helps muffle your footsteps, and the sword smoothly slides out of its mount. It’s surprisingly light and you whirl around to see Obi Wan struggling to push Sarek away. With all the strength of an MLB pitcher, you hurl the broadsword into the wall to his right. The blade sinks into the wall with a solid thunk and the practically-bedazzled handle wobbles back and forth next to Kenobi’s head. He then offers a sly grin that releases a cage of butterflies in your abdomen and yanks the sword out of the wall and brandishes it out in front of him. Sarek leaps back in the nick of time, nearly getting sliced in the belly.

You suddenly get an odd feeling of déjà vu.

Stress festers in the pit of your stomach as you watch Obi Wan and Sarek dance around each other, composing a metal rhythm as they lunge for the other’s vital organs. Sarek’s knife is still lodged in Obi Wan’s stomach and you fidget. “Please be careful,” you yell halfheartedly over the clanging, “You do remember your stab wound, don’t you?” Obi Wan glances over at you for a split second and gives you a cheeky grin. “Are you sure I’ve been stabbed? I hardly feel a thing!” he puffs, ducking under a particularly clumsy swing from Sarek. You roll your eyes but the duel escalates quickly when the exit bangs open harshly, and in piles an assortment of trandoshans, each of them wielding a firearm of some kind.

A snicker sounds from Obi Wan’s opponent. Kenobi drops the broadsword and backs away from Sarek and his rapidly-advancing cohorts. Tension has clogged the room at this point. It’s silent until Obi grabs a heavy-looking vase and unceremoniously chucks it at the window. Before you know it, he’s wrapped an arm around your waist and takes one, two, three steps and leaps out into the air above the water. You shriek and clutch at the back of Obi Wan’s suit jacket, shutting your eyes tight and bracing yourself for the icy plunge.

It never comes. Instead, a loud thump rattles your bones and forces your eyes open. The first thing you notice is that Obi Wan is still holding onto you. More importantly, he’s rubbing circles into your back to try and help you relax. You scramble gracelessly off of him and look around. A consistent dripping noise echoes around the space and you discover that somehow you’re in an open space under Sarek’s office, which was sticking out from the building and over the water like a sore thumb. Your eyes trace a long black wire leading from the edge of the building to your location. You squint at Obi Wan. “There’s no way you could’ve known that wire would be there.”

He chuckles. “I was fully prepared to go for a swim before I spotted it. It would’ve been a pity to ruin such a nice dress.” You stick your tongue out at him and he softly jabs you in the waist, eliciting a very mature squeak from you. Once he winces from laughter your face softens. “Let’s get you to a corner store and grab a first aid kit. If you’ve gone this long without passing out from blood loss the knife must not have punctured anything vital,” you tell him, gently touching his abdomen. He’s silent and you look up at him to see him...avoiding your gaze? You realize you’re still touching him and jerk your hand away like you’d just burned it.

“Are you worried about me?” he laughs, beaming. In retaliation (and to hide your glowing cheeks), you move to support Obi Wan and begin to lead him out towards the street, purposely looking as far away from him as possible.

“We can buy a first aid kit at the corner store and perhaps grab a bite to eat at Dex’s?” Obi Wan suggests. You nod and the two of you walk/limp to your destination.

On the sidewalk outside of Dex’s Diner, Obi Wan sits patiently, waiting for you to bring out food. You both had decided not to eat inside the restaurant and scare the customers with Obi looking so banged up. You’d carefully cleaned and stitched up his wound, and all the while he stared down at you, bewildered by your concentration and skill.

He’d come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, only now he’s scared you don’t feel the same way. You’d always treated him like a brother, as much as it irked him sometimes. Too many times you’d come very close to catching him gazing lovingly at you while you cut down mobsters and the like. It was becoming more difficult by the day to keep his heart from tumbling out of his lips, to keep the dam shut.

His chest clenches as the memory of your pained and frightened face in Sarek’s grasp resurfaces. It cleaved straight through his soul. At that moment, he gives himself a task: he’ll make sure that you never have to be that scared again, even if it kills him.

He is torn from his thoughts when the bell at the door of the diner chimes and you take a seat on the curb beside him, a hand offering him a Shawda club sandwich. He groans in happiness and you laugh, watching him dramatically savor the first bite. Peaches and purples swirl together in the sky as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Its rays are cut into pieces by towering skyscrapers and buildings, the pieces hitting the sidewalk around you. The moment is peaceful but you have something to get off of your chest, you just don’t know how.

“Obi Wan-”

“I-”

You both startle. You gesture to him to speak and all at once the words he was going to say are absent from his tongue. An awkward pause fills the space between you.

“What I said at Kina’s...I wasn’t lying,” he says firmly. “I’ve never met anyone who comes close to you. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way but I need to tell you this before something happens to me again. You’re everything to me. You’re strong and capable and you deserve the world. I just hope you can settle for me.”

When you don’t move his heart sinks into his stomach. His hope tarnished, he begins to ramble. “If you don’t want to work with me anymore, I understand. I just hope we can-”

The defeat laced in his voice breaks you out of your shocked stupor and you whirl around, planting your palm on his mouth. He quiets, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You press your forehead to his, giggling from relief and the last of your adrenaline. Your hand falls to cup his jaw, his beard soft under your fingers.

“Shut up and kiss me, you reckless dork.”

Obi’s face splits in a grin as he finally kisses you, pulling you closer at the nape of your neck and his other hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your other hand is splayed on his chest as you break for air and you initiate the next searing kiss, tugging him with both hands by the collar of his torn dress shirt. You hear his muffled chuckle at your unbridled enthusiasm.

You push him away to make sure it isn’t some kind of twisted dream, but you’re instead greeted by a rather attractive sight. Obi Wan is panting, his cheeks dark and one button undone on his dress shirt, revealing his collarbone and the top of his chest.

“I’m offended that you called me a ‘reckless dork’ when you just aggressively made out with me,” Obi Wan snarks, grinning.

“Oh shut it, you loved it.”

“I suppose it was alright…although it wouldn’t hurt to practice.”

#Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #fanfiction #star wars #Star Wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars AU #fanfic #Obi Wan kenobi #ay it's Dex #userxkara #writing #obi wan #Obi Wan x reader

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moulinrouge78-blog · 3 years

Text

Sex fantasies and other surprises - Part 1

Netflix made me do it. This is my first fanfiction contribution ever posted. It’s hot and erotic because I love and live for SMUT. Enjoy.....

They have been together for a year now and he couldn’t be happier. Their long distance relationship isn’t easy but works out pretty well and today wasn’t just the Friday she would come to Capeside to be with him for a long weekend but also their 1st anniversary of being Joey and Pacey the happy in love couple who make it work.

And he’s got a plan. ‚You are a lucky bastard‘ he smiled to himself standing in front of his bathroom mirror getting ready for his drive to Capeside train station where she would arrive in around an hour. The thought about his girl made him feel light headed and gave him electric shivers that went straight down his groin. He looked down and could see his dick standing In excitement. But there was no time for that, first stops where the florist by the harbour and Capeside‘s fine jewellers. One last look in the mirror to ensure he didn’t miss a smudge of shaving cream on his face and his hair sat in place before he turned around grabbing his keys and went out the door. It was barely 9am and the sun was already warm standing high in a cloudless blue sky. The air smelled of seaweed and sand coming from the dunes with the birds chirping in the trees. He went around to his Ford Explorer and looked at the beach, breathing in the fresh air. Three years ago the Dudley‘s passed away and Pacey didn’t hesitate to buy their beach house. While the winters are long and cold just as they are around everywhere in Massachusetts he thought Capeside is the most beautiful place on earth in summer when the weather is like this.

Pacey checked the weather forecast for weeks and this weekend was perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the florist and greeted one of the delivery drivers once he parked his car and run over to help the man handling big buckets of Magnolia, Echinacea, Roses, Poppies, Water Lillies, Day Lillies and Pale Grass Pink Orchids.

‚Hey Rob, let me give you a hand‚ he said taking two of the buckets from the struggling man’s arm, nodding at him. ‚Oh thank you Pacey, these flowers don’t look heavy but they certainly are and I am not getting younger‘ Rob said wiping off a thin layer of sweat he felt forming on his forehead. ‚Ah man, you are still as chirpy and not a day older than 45, are you not?‘ Pacey said with a wide grin. ‚Well add another decade to it and you are about right!‘ Rob chuckled returning a friendly smile. ‚Ohh before i forget. Your flowers are ready! Rob said. Ohh brilliant timing. That’s why I am here. Thank you!

Ten minutes later, Pacey left the shop with his wildflower garland made of blue false indigo, bowmen‘s root and peach leaved bluebells. He asked for seasonal wild flowers and the arrangement couldn’t be prettier.

The jewellers was just up the road, 2 traffic lights and 5 minutes away and he suddenly felt very nervous. This was the tricky part he wanted to get right out of all things. He knew how he wanted to propose to the girl who stole his heart. It usually is Dawson’s expertise to do the fluff and romantic stuff, Pacey did lack in this department a little he thought so he took Jen with him a fortnight ago to show her the ring he selected for Joey.

‚What do you think, Lindley?‘ he bit his lip, nervous as hell, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad. Jen stared at the open black velvet box with the tiny yellow pear shaped moissanite diamond in the platinum ring base he picked, bedded on a satin cushion. The ring wasn’t pretentious and simple despite the yellow colour of the stone. He knows Joey doesn’t like gaudy things, keeps it elegant and classy and he respected that, ok who is he kidding? he thought. Joe‘s disgust for trashy things and the want to be authentic and real was adorable and sexy as hell. A sigh escaped Jen’s mouth and than there was a long pause. ‚Uh oh, that bad, Lindley?‘ he asked suddenly his throat terribly dry, not sure if he wanted to get a response from his dear blonde friend next to him. Jen also liked being real and true at all times and usually he admired her for that but today he hopes she’s gentle on him. Jen looked at him and back down to the glass counter where Hilary the sales assistant placed the ring for them to view and her face was not showing any sort of emotion, she looked blank. ‚Listen...Jen...there is still time, I can return it and you...YOU are a women of many tastes, you can help me making the RIGHT decision!‘ He felt frantic, his palms were sweating as he took he reaction as a sign, that this ring was a terrible pick. She finally looked up at him and her face lid up. ‚Oh my god...Pace....this is the most, beautiful ring I have ever seen. Joey truly is a lucky girl!‘ Her voice trembled a little as the emotion kicked in and she hugged him tightly ‚You did well, Witter! ‘ I wonder...‚ What’s that? He asked, breaking their embrace, looking at her happily but confused raising a brow. ‚Does this ring come in a set with earrings, if so I’ll take them!‘ Jen said with a giggle. Pacey laughed at that remark and lightly slapped her shoulder. Ouch, Witter!!! He kissed her head and logged his arm through hers leaving the shop after he paid his deposit. At the train station the clock just outside the station tower read 9:58am. Great 2 more minutes, I am not late.

He quickly checked the arrival table on the monitor and was glad that the train was on time before he made his short way to the platform. With that he heard the chuffing sound of the fast train approaching the platform slowing down until it came to a noisy halt. Passenger‘s got off the train, restricting his view, so he tiptoed and bend his neck. It took him a few moments and he saw her. His heart pounded fast in his chest. It was only a few days ago that they been together but his body reacted like he hasn’t seen her for weeks, months or even years. She stepped off the train, holding onto a small beige hard shell travel trolley with her right hand. She wore a tie front puff sleeve midi dress in light blue with matching hairband holding her hair in a ponytail and white leather sandals with block heel. Each movement made the dress show off her long silky tanned legs. She still hasn’t spotted him, looking from left to right, a puzzled look on her face that made her mouth pout.

Ohh those lips he thought. He could tell she didn’t bother with make up, only a little bit of mascara, a little rogue to make her cheeks glow peachy and a colourless chapstick is all she would use, she was the most beautiful girl he ever laid eyes on and he was glad she finally grown in confidence to see herself not just as a too tall woman with long limbs and feels comfortable in her skin. The tie front of her dress was open a little and he could faintly guess where her chest bone would turn into the bulge of her breasts. His heart skipped a beat and he manoeuvred the best he could into her direction without being seen. She fumbled on the zipper of her trolley standing with her bare back to him. He reached for her waist while his other hand went to her neck placing little kisses onto the bare skin underneath her hairline. ‘Hello gorgeous!’ ‘Mmmm’ was the only vocabulary escaping her lips. She leaned into him, eyes closed and smiling her big smile that drove him insane.

He felt her ass rotating and grinding into his hard bulge ‘Ahhh, Pace happy to see me?’ and suddenly his khaki shorts felt way too tight. His hands holding onto her arms for stability he whispered into her ear, nibbling her lobe and finally resting his chin on her shoulder ‘Ohh Jo, you have no idea. I wouldn’t like anything more than to pull up that fabric of your dress and take you right here, right now giving by passengers a show of their life time.‘

With that he swirled her around and let her fall into his arms, looking deeply in her dark brown eyes. ‘God I missed you, Potter!’ ‘I missed you so much, my sweetheart!’ she whispered back. There it was. Just like that he was on fire. She licked her lips. Her way of saying that she is ready to be kissed. He didn’t need an Invitation to place his lips on hers. Their lips met and she opened just a little to let him in and he darted his tongue around her full mouth, stifling her moan by dancing with her tongue tip. She opened her mouth wider and he took all of her tongue, sucking on it, releasing her and sucking her tip once again, breaking free for air.

‘Let me take you home, before Doug gets send here for sexual assault in public!’ Um, yeah probably not a good idea to be stars of Capeside journal as ‘horny couple set off at train station!’ she said with an amused wink at him. They went for a quick early lunch at the ice house before heading arm in arm to the beach house. Oh my god, Pace you really went trough with it? She gestured at the outdoor shower in the garden as soon as they arrived. This is so cool. It’s not just cool but also practical in the summer after a long shift in the restaurant. Here let me show you. The shower was attached to white wooden panels with hanging baskets for toiletries, soaps, hair care, sponges and even a back rub. Two big yellow towels occupied two of the four metal hooks. The floor was made of deep blue and green mosaics and an anti slip finish. It had a long bench at the side with futon pillows where the water couldn’t reach. For privacy the shower area was secluded by it’s own 8 ft. garden fence made of thick hazel hurdle woven wattle with bushy leafy planters in front of it. The top was free but Joey noticed a handle at the side and a large panel above. ‘What’s that for?’ she wondered.

Ohh this is for chillier evenings to keep the rain out. He turned the handle and a retractable yellow thick shade pulled out. This looks just like...

...the sail of True Love? he finished her sentence, smiling at her. Yes, Joey it’s the same material I used for true love since it’s weather resistance and I like to feel being out of sea while having a shower outside. He smirked. I understand Pace, once a Captain always a Captain. She chuckled. I haven’t used it yet since it just got finished two days ago. But the water is on...here...step back, I’ll show you! Joey stepped back and he turned the shower on. Warm water splashed from the shower head. He was about to turn the shower off but Joey laid his hand on his.

‘Leave it on Pace!’

She unfastened her sandals, slipped them off and untied her hairband. It took him a moment to register what she was doing. He closed the gate and she came towards him, started to unbutton his shirt looking him straight in his eyes. ‘I want to shower with you and feel you!’ He lost his voice and was only able to mumble ‘God Joey, this is one of my fantasies of us!’ ‘I know it’s mine, too’ she replied. She yanked his dark grey shirt off his shoulders and placed it on one of the free hooks. His chest hairs stood in anticipation as she began licking his right nipple over to his left, making them stand. His breathing was now fast and he desperately needed her out of her dress. She suckled on his now hard nipples and he was able to free her arms from the dress, letting it slip to the floor. She stepped out off the dress and tossed it to the side, now opening the zipper of his khakis, pulling the waistband down together with his boxers. A quick ‚Ahhh‘ escaped him. He stood naked in front of her and she let out a high pitched sigh. He was so handsome, his broad shoulders and wide chest, defined long legs and his glory of dark pubic hair and big cock standing to his attention solid for her. Just looking at him sends shivers down her spine to her centre. His size used to concern her but now she just feels all tingly inside looking at him, knowing how good he feels and what electric shocks she experiences when his full length fills her. Pacey went out of his shorts, kicked off his flip flops and pulled her by the slim line of her thin thong pulling her closer with his hands freeing her from the last shed of material that was between them. She reached for his cock and held him tight, kissing his slightly open mouth. He returned the kiss, moaning in her mouth meeting her dancing tongue with his. ‘Mmmm Joey...I love it when you are in this mood, mmm....ahhhh....don’t stop.‘ Pacey was now fully under the shower, her hands rubbing up and down his shaft, his balls hard and heavy. I need to taste you, Pace. ‚I won’t last, Jo‘

‚Than don’t, sweetheart!‘ with that she pulled his skin to expose his juicy cherry and slowly went down as much as her mouth could take, her tongue sucking on the throbbing top, licking up and down his vein, increasing the speed. Ahhh...Fuck...Jo!! His hands got lost in her now wet hair, watching her moving mouth on him. He needed to focus on something else to not burst right there and than. She felt him edging in her mouth, droplets of his salty pre-cum making her vagina quiver. Cupping his full sack, she released his length to take his hard marbles in, licking and sucking on the crinkly skin. ‘Jo, I am so close.’ This was the best foreplay. She was so wet and wanted him to shoot but couldn’t decide where she wanted it. She went fully in the warmth of the shower now. Sitting on the floor, opening her legs as wide as she could, pulling him down with her. Her vagina was on full display, her lips open to show her meaty flesh and her clit erect standing out like a flower bud. Her breath was pitchy, her eyes heavy with lust. She started moving her index and middle finger around her clit, masturbating with swift and fast movements. Jo, you are everybody’s wet dream. You are so gorgeous. He was wanking his cock hard, looking at her delicate flower, kissed her, watched her touching herself, her nipples equally beautiful and erect. This view was all he needed and with a long ‘ahhh Jo, my sweet giiiiirllll, ahhhh...he finally exploded, his load hitting her hard on her open center. She used his juices to rub herself, hissing at the feeling that build in her. He could see her ecstasy, still panting he went down, his nose touching her soft folds so juicy and inviting like a piece of fruit. Her smell mixing with his juices, he inhaled and flickered his tongue out founding her hard clit, his fingers replacing hers, entering her slowly, not letting go off her clit to than lick up and down her slit. Ahhh, Pacey, Yes...there...yes...faster, fuck me harder.

God, what went into her? His cock hardening again, he moved her over to the soft padded bench for her to kneel on. With her ass in the air like that, her hard nipples on standing up and her breasts bouncing, he shoved his hot length in one fast thrust and she cried out ‘Yes, Pace, oh god yes, take me. Don’t hold back. I need it!’ He thrust in and out, hard and forceful, each stroke making her reach closer to the edge. Come for me baby, he said now holding onto her tits, pulling her nipples, thrusting harder like there was no tomorrow.

She was now shrieking

Ahhh... Ohhh.... God.... yes.....yes.... Ahhhh...FUCK....I...Uhh...Ohhh...fuck....Pace....yes

He felt her walls tightening around him....she came like a tornado and with her last quiver, he pushed into her one last time, releasing his hot fluid, collapsing onto her back, trying to fetch his breath.

She was a hot mess...giggling...after 10 minutes or so...

Pace? Yes, Jo? ‘Let’s take a shower now.’

With that he pulled her up, squirting the almond and milk shower gel on the sponge, starting on soaping her arms and shoulders, with a smirk on his lips he said huskily.

‘Your wish is my command, my sweet sexy kitten!’

And just like that her nipples lifted up again. Her not breaking his gaze responded with a wide sheepish smile

‘Ohh boy!’ To Be Continued

#fanfiction JoeyPacey Mature Lemons Graphic

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whirlybirbs · 4 years

Note

does fortem patch the senator up softly but with snarky banter perhaps??

a/n: two idiots cleaning wounds, read the other chapters here on ao3!

Fortem is – well…

Fortem is uncomfortable and out of place.

He certainly feels that way as he putters about your kitchen, poking around and taking in the more home-y aspects of your apartment. The maids are cleaning up the remnants of the rather eventful evening outside and three of your personal guards are hanging about the living area, muttering in hushed Corellian; they’ve just handled the bodies, handing them off to Coruscant’s organized crime unit.

You’d insisted the authorities let your personal guards handle the matter as to keep it quiet – and so, three Coruscant’s detectives had been escorted out by the Captain of your security personnel.

His name is Flaveek.

Fortem doesn’t trust him.

Three sets of eyes turn to him as their conversation lulls – just in time for the Captain aforementioned to exit your bedroom and close the door behind him.

“She is requesting you,” Flaveek’s eyes slip to the Sith leaning against the sink, “Lord Fortem.”

His name is spit out like a curse.

The Sith kicks from the sink then, swaggering towards your bedroom door and narrowing his gilded gaze in the direction of the armored man as he passes with a measured level of malice – all before entering your bedroom quietly and shutting the door behind him.

He’s surprised to find you in the refresher, rummaging through the cabinets there – you’ve stopped bleeding some time ago, but having hung up your tattered robe on the door, Fortem can now see the deep lacerations along your back and shoulders; your hands have been dealt with, cleaned and wrapped where necessary.

“Red isn’t your color.”

Your laugh is weak.

He leans on the doorframe.

“I need your help.”

A ruddy blonde brow quirks. You finally find what you’re looking for – an aid kit complete with bacta, tweezers, and bandages – and hold it out to him as you shut the cabinet and stand back up.

Fortem eyes the kit. Then, you. And finally, he takes it.

“Why me?” he asks slowly, watching as you hobble to the side of the bath and settle down, clearly in pain. You haven’t looked at him yet, face turned to the far side of the Wayland marble room. Fortem frowns, “Why not the dashing Captain Flaveek?”

“Because I am not entirely sure I can trust him.”

… And yet, somehow, you trust him?

The Sith holds his doubtful tongue, moving to pop open the kit and place it upon the dark quartz counter. He stands at the sink, back to you, as runs the tweezers under hot water. You watch him, noting his square posture and focused attention. Fortem looks up, catches your gaze in the mirror, and ignores the feeling the sight stirs in his gut.

You look horrible.

It’s clear you’d been crying – no doubt far from the prying eyes of himself and the other guards. He can’t quite imagine it, mostly because you still hold an air of capability while looking as if you’d been dragged through hell all while hanging off the back of a bantha.

You can tell he notices. His face softens.

You bristle, prepared to volley a jab, but… it never comes.

Instead, Fortem doesn’t say anything of your state of dishevel, and instead focuses on gathering a pad of gauze and settling behind you on the edge of the tub.

“You suspect he had something to do with this? Flaveek?” he asks measuredly after a minute, cold hands pressing the strap of your nightgown down your shoulders. The fabric snags on a rather large piece of glass stuck there – he swallows his displeasure, muttering an apology, before gently lifting the fabric from the injury and guiding it downwards.

You pull your knees upward, ignoring the cold air now gracing the skin of your back. The nightgown falls around your waist, bare chest pressed to your thighs as you hold your legs close.

Fortem sweeps a stray tress of hair over your shoulder.

You speak slowly. “The guard rotation was due thirty minutes before our unwanted guests arrived. I would have remember if –… I would have remembered if they made their rounds. I’d been awake. Worrying.”

Fortem’s brow knots. He swallows, moving to gently pull at the largest shard still stuck in your skin with the tweezers in his steady hands. Eugh.

You barely flinch. He lets the shard tinker in the sink.

“Have you said a word of any of this to him?”

“No,” you mumble, trying to distract yourself with the sound of his breathing, “Played the woeful damsel.”

A snort. “You’re hardly the case.”

Your shoulders shake once – a pathetic laugh escapes your throat. Barely a huff of air. Fortem, as he cleans out the deepest wound, manages a wry smirk.

“Where’d the knife come from?”

Oh. The fight.

“Kitchen,” you mumble, wincing slightly as Fortem spreads bacta onto the wound on your right shoulder with gentle fingers. In an instant, though, the pain melts away in favor of a slight numbness and then warmth, “I thought it was you on the balcony but –”

“Goodness,” he chides, rolling his eyes, “Have I not told you to lock that door?”

“Mind your tongue,” you mutter bitterly at his scorn, “I’m not a child.”

“You’re not – yet, look at us now.”

You turn, sparing him an icy look over your shoulder.

He raises his tweezers in a light-threat. “Bite the hand that heals. I dare you.”

You huff a haughty little sound at that, turning back to prop your chin up on your knees. Fortem pulls another shard are clari-crystalline from your skin. It falls into the sink with a ttk-tiink-tiik. He wipes it with the gauze, then gently presses bacta along the wound. His fingers are warm now, and you let the touch linger in your thoughts.

“Did the Black Sun hire you?” you ask after a few moments, “For the original hit?”

Fortem snorts. “No. As if I’d entertain them.”

“Then… Crimson Dawn…?”

He raises a brow, leaning around you to get a look at your expression. It’s tame, but timid.

“Have you a history with Crimson Dawn?”

You bite your tongue, eyes bouncing across his face before you turn away, settling your gaze on the far wall of the refresher. “I was a working girl for one of the syndicate’s Lieutenants back on Corellia for some time.”

Fortem makes a sound akin to surprise. You shoot him a look over your shoulder.

“Working girl –?”

“I made fancy cocktails and sat around to look pretty, nothing more, there were no extracurriculars involved; now get your head out of the gutter –”

“Lean forward,” he mutters softly, a hand pressing you over your knees a bit more so he can inspect the wound on your lower back, “I’m listening. No nightcaps – go on.”

You roll your eyes. He smiles to himself.

“When the powers transitioned – and they always do – I took everything I had and left the syndicate. I pulled some strings, enrolled in University on Coruscant. I walked away from it all. But, I suppose I know some things that members may see as a problem. You hear things – and perhaps, I’m a loose end.”

“Crimson Dawn wouldn’t be interested in cleaning up the petty gossip overheard at a dinner party,” Fortem mumbles, “And they weren’t the ones who hired me.”

“Then who?”

“He operated under a pseudonym and used a proxy – I figured, if anything, he was a disgruntled trader from Corellia.”

“What name did he give?”

Fortem’s breath fans across your shoulders as he leans in, prying a rather small piece of glass from your back. Annoyance flares in his features. “What, would you like to see a gift receipt?”

“… You mean to tell me you don’t remember his name?”

“He didn’t provide one,” Fortem bites, touch still remaining gentle despite his hitch in tone, “And in my area of expertise, you certainly do not ask who’s the one sending you on errands.”

“Then how are you sure he wasn’t Crimson Dawn, Fortem?” you snarl, irritated with the way one of his warm hands balances itself along your waist as he plucks a stubborn piece of debris from your shoulder, “Riddle me that?”

“Because I know Crimson Dawn.”

You blink.

“The tattoo on your neck –”

“He’s my brother,” Fortem explains curtly, “Maul, the one who staged the coupe within the syndicate. The tattoo is Dathomirian.”

Oh.

“… And is that relation by blood?”

His hands falter. That was a joke, tight lipped and hissed, but a joke. He laughs – deep and soft. It eases some of your discomfort.

“No,” Fortem shakes his head, dropping the tweezers to the sink and ignoring the blood on his fingertips as he reaches for a strip of bacta patches, “He trained me.”

“Well,” you huff, “This conversation got us no where.”

“What?” he balks, “Sharing our personal histories as I nurse your wounds isn’t romantic enough for you, Senator?”

Goodness, you hate him.

#bone-picked teeth #hhhhmmmm some plot #and touching ;)#sith!obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader

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mannien · 4 years

Text

“You’re Shaking”

Pairing: Tom Holland x Millie Beaver (my own fictional character)

Summary: When Millie is supposed to be strong and emotionally ready to celebrate her sister’s wedding, the best friend arrives to the rescue.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, friends to lovers tropes, weddings

Author’s Note: HEY! HI! I’m new at this! This is my attempt at the writing challenge made by the lovely @cunaeparker! I would post it on the deadline on the 30th, but it’s my birthday as well, so I’ll be probably busy eating chocolate then. Also, it’s a part of the fic that I’m currently writing, hence the specific characters here. If you have any questions about the plot, just ask!

When I first heard that my oldest sister was getting married, I knew I wanted to be a part of this. She may have not known that, but it’s been a very emotional ride for me, personally. Seeing her life roll out a red carpet in front of her, leading straight to the world of eternal love and happiness, it made me realize a lot of things about myself, too.

First and foremost, it showed me what love should look like. Liz and David were the definition of true love for me, and I could not thank them enough for unknowingly telling me this. But months of preparation, more frequent family dinners, and a bunch of personal issues later, the reality hurt like a motherfucker. Since their eye-opening engagement, I’d been struggling with my own relationship and my own happiness.

It’s not that I didn’t like my boyfriend Frank. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have spent over 2 years together. He was kind, a little less thoughtful than I would like but still a decent amount, very handsome, and a tiny bit more intelligent than me in our common areas of expertise. In addition to it all, he was able to handle me, a very messy head, so there was really no reason for me not to be with him any longer.

Except, there actually was.

I never mean to point fingers either, because I don’t blame people for my feelings. But a number of conversations with my best friend also showed me that there are people caring more about me than Frank; people who are willing to sacrifice more and who pay a lot more attention to the details that make me, well, me. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t compare those two relationships; the guy who got to make out with me has known me since we took the same advanced journalism class at the university. But the one who actually knows the size of my shoe and what allergies I used to have, he’s known me forever. Of course, we had our better or worse times; months when I would be too busy writing essays to talk to him, and he would be lost in filming another blockbuster movie. But at the end of the day, he was like a brother to me. He took care of me. However, most importantly, he knew I was unhappy with Frank and he pointed it out to me a couple of times.

My sister’s happiness and my best friend’s care worked, though. They made me face the reality. They hit me in the face with it so hard that I’ve been feeling like shit for the past month. It’s been exactly a month since me and Frank broke up. To top it off, precisely two hours before the ceremony, at this gorgeous castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, my memory played me and told me: “Hey, Millie! It would’ve been your and Frank’s 3-year anniversary!”

This unbearable stream of thoughts hit me when I was watching Liz smile to the mirror at her glorious hairdo. It wasn’t too complicated, her hair was only curled and pinned up in a few right places, but her beaming expression was something to die for. She was ecstatic to marry the love of her life and I couldn’t blame her; it was her day, she was beautiful, and her fiancée was the nicest and most trustworthy man in the world. My torn apart heart envied her, but my face squeezed out the tiniest smile. She was happy, and nothing else was important.

“Come on Millie, let’s give her a breather.” Our middle sister pulled me out of trance. She already had her face full of a glittery, smoky makeup. Leaving Liz’s room meant we will see each other again during the ceremony, and that I needed to get my shit together.

We walked down the dark hall to where our rooms were, just a few doors apart. Our whole way from Liz’s she was on her phone and I stayed silent, patiently listening to her fingernails tapping against the screen, while I did all I could to hold back the disgustingly growing need to throw up from stress.

“Sam, could you stop for a minute?” She looked up at me, right when she was about to open the door to her room.

“What’s up?” She asked, her eyebrows narrowed in concern. I opened my mouth to say something, but I wasn’t even sure what would I allow myself to say. Should I say I’m nervous? Should I start rambling about how my heart is still aching, especially so because of the wedding? How I was supposed to have a peaceful relationship and an obvious choice of date for my sister’s big day but instead, I had to realize that I simply wasted 3 years of my life and emotional devotion?

“Do you…” I started, but nothing came out. I had to swallow down the terrible taste in my mouth. “…how do you turn off your emotions for an event like this?”

“Oh, sweetie…” She no longer had her pretty London accent. A few years in California made her tongue roll differently on each word, and I could barely feel the warmth of her voice. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, especially now.” He hugged me, but not with all she had in her, because we both respected the effort put into her face. It saddened me, but that was the reality.

“I’m sorry, too.” I whispered.

“Hold on tight, okay? It’s gonna be alright. You’re a fierce one, Mills.”

“I wish I was.” I pity-laughed at myself, but soon regretted that. Sam’s hand slapped my arm quite harshly.

“Hey! Stop that right now. Go on, put that fancy dress you’ve got, make your eyes and lips pop, we’re the Beaver girls, right? Now chop-chop, move your arse.” She pushed me in the direction of my room with a grin. I tried to mirror her expression just for the sake of her attempt to be British again. To be homey, again.

When I was trying my hardest not to lose it emotionally, I focused on practical tasks. I mastered my makeup and sprayed myself with that setting spray the world was screaming about. My hair was a little unruly and I needed an extra bobby pin, if I wanted it to stay up and show off my dress. The self-conscious me didn’t want to, but Liz would want me to. And today was about Liz, so I fought with that high, slightly messy bun until my arms went numb.

My dress was the trickiest part. It required me to tie three bows and zip my whole back up to the neck. Maneuvering all that without messing up anything else in my appearance didn’t sound promising, and being harsh with the material wouldn’t work either. The dress was a work of art to me, so when me and Liz both looked at it one evening, she told me straight away she will ditch the sister dress code. She didn’t make us wear all similar colors, but rather encouraged me to pull the most ‘Millie Beaver’ look I was capable of. So, I ended up with a black tulle uneven material ending somewhere above my knees, going up to the waist in the tiniest folds in an A-line skirt. The see-through, sheer fabric was covered with draped embellishments made out of the tiniest sequins. They made a sort of brush-paint effect that covered my body from my bottom just above the round of my breasts. The neck and loose sleeves made of the thinnest black mesh which barely changed the color of my skin, ended with intense black stripes ready to be turned into the prettiest of bows. I don’t know if it complimented my body, but it definitely made me feel like the prettiest version of myself.

As I was getting into the long sleeves and pulling the body above my boobs, I loud knocking noise interrupted my focus. Intuitively, I looked at the time and exhaled a calming breath, knowing I still have some time and I’m not running late. I held the top of my dress with my right hand, not wanting it to slid down when I open the door.

Tom looked ready to knock again. His fist hovered in the air for a second, until he raised his eyes and noticed me. He smiled down at me with the warmest facial expression I was given today by anyone, or so did I think. I couldn’t help but give him a one good look over. He was dressed up in a very deep navy-blue suit; the kind of navy blue that makes each man look a hundred times more attractive. The way it clung nicely to his broad shoulders told me it was tailor made from a thick and rich material. His crispy white shirt had a few buttons unmade, so it didn’t hug his neck but rather made his throat more exposed in a way that I always tried to avoid. The smile reached his eyes and woke up the wrinkles around them, making his face look even prettier than before. His short brown locks were tucked away nicely with the tiniest amount of hair gel, and I knew right away he had done it on purpose; I’d used to make fun of the shiny look he so often went for at public events.

I could swear that all these details about his appearance my mind grasped within seconds. He didn’t make a funny comment about it, he just greeted me sweetly and nodded at me.

“Hey, Mills.”

“Hey!” I tried to return his smile in a way that would tell him how happy I was to see him. Or maybe how relieved? “Come in, just… avoid the preparation mess.” I laughed and let him in. I closed the door and unintentionally glanced at the way the suit nicely covered his muscular back and bottom. “Look at you, movie star!” I tried to whistle, but I failed and just blew into the air with a little swish to it. He turned to me with a raised brow and laughed at my poor attempt to be sassy.

“I called you, I didn’t know if you were busy right now and I didn’t want to interrupt if you were with Liz.”

“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled quickly, getting close to the phone that was peacefully left alone on the nightstand and charging. “I’m not feeling good, so I just wanted to get ready and face the world after.”

“What’s wrong?” His face scrunched up in concern.

“Just, you know…” My lips formed a tight smile. I shrugged and as it made the shoulders of my dress slide down my arms a little, I remembered that I still had to fix it and put on properly. I hugged the material tight to my chest and fought the terrible urge to bite my lips. “… a bit stressed out.” I mumbled, not willing to go into detail and break down. My mind worked really hard to change the subject as quick as possible, just because he knew I was overreacting and he would want me to be honest. It was a self-destructive behavior, really, but I couldn’t help it when the vomit was trying to make its way up my throat once again. I glanced at him fidgeting with his hands and only then noticed that he was holding two ties in his left hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t let him. “So, spill the deal Thomas. You’ve never told me who’s your plus one?”

He watched me carefully, as if he already knew what I was up to. I hated this about him, but he played well. A knowing smile spread across his lips as he held up the ties.

“That’s actually one of the things I wanted to discuss with you. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable tonight, so I wanted your help with these.” He held both accessories in separate hands and put them close to his chest, comparing the way they looked with his suit.

“You can’t choose your tie?” I asked with a chuckle, while pulling the dress completely over my shoulders and hoping it would stay in place, although unzipped and untied. “What happened to your fashion sense?”

“Well, the fashion sense is still here, I mean…” He started cheekily, giving me a slow pirouette to show off of his outfit. “…it looks pretty good if I’m honest.” He laughed. “But no, I wanted to ask you because first of all, you know better,” the pure confidence in his voice made us both chuckle happily again. “and second of all, this option is for me going solo,” his hand holding a striped tie in different shades of blue moved to the middle. “and this one matches your dress, so that I could be your plus one.” He held up closer the burgundy one, with tiny golden embroidered elements. It was almost the exact shade that my dress had bursting out the most from the waist. We would match in a very delicate way, not overwhelming others with the similarity, but rather stating that we probably knew what we were doing.

My heart was rapidly beating, making my insides warm up from this single gesture that he offered. I felt tears well up in my eyes. He knew I was hurting during my relationship, he saw me hurt when I fought for what I had with Frank, as well as he saw me in pain when we called it quits a month ago. My lower lip quivered, not sure if it wanted to let out a tiny sob, or spread wide in a smile. I felt confused emotionally, but the simplicity of Tom’s thought spread a fuzzy feeling across my body.

I moved closer to him, forgetting about the lipstick and biting my lower lip. I took the dark red tie from him and straightened it up, before pulling it over his neck with a small smile. I started the first two moves that I had known from TV, but then absentmindedly started to play with the fabric, trying to look professional.

“Do you even know how to do it?” He tried not to laugh too much at me, so his stifled joy ended up in a sucked in smile.

“YouTube knows.” I smiled up at him. His eyes glistened in a joyful expression as he breathed out a giggle. He took out his phone from the jacket pocket and quickly searched for an easy tutorial for me.

“Go on.” He encouraged me and held his phone up, so that I could see the instructions. I focused on the task and felt the nerves creeping away. My hands slowly relaxed and in swift motions I finished up a loose knot. He noticed my progress and threw his phone on my bed. His gaze was fixated on me; I could feel his brown eyes watching me carefully.

“Can I finish this off?” I asked very quietly, not sparing a look at his face. My fingers hovered over the undone top buttons of his shirt and only when he didn’t reply, I looked up. He was already watching me with an expression I rarely saw on him. He was eyeing my face so closely and delicately, almost as if he tried to memorize that moment. He gently nodded his head and did so while locking our eyes. I swallowed heavily, trying to push away the nauseous feeling that crept back in as a nervous reaction. Very carefully I started working on the little buttons. Then I put his collar up to fit in the tie and gently pushed up the knot, focusing on not wrinkling anything. Then I smoothed out his shirt and smiled proudly to myself.

“Well done!” He chuckled at my childish pride and touched up the knot himself.

“Thank you for doing this.” I whispered, tapping lightly at his chest. I smiled up at him, feeling the tears threatening to escape again. I moved away from him; I didn’t want to become a mess shortly before such big and happy family event.

I started walking towards the bathroom and attempted to zip up my dress at the same time. Soon enough it turned into desperate fumbling with the material at the beginning of the zipper, because it sucked in a tiny piece of fabric. I couldn’t imagine taking it all off and then putting on again after a fight with the zip, my perfectly imperfect bun wouldn’t handle it well.

“Hey, could you give me a hand here?” I turned to him, as he was putting his phone back in the pocket. We used to see each other in many innocent, yet body revealing situations. Hence, we were usually comfortable with one another so that sleeping in the same bed only in our underwear was okay. We made fun of each other’s bodies and somehow, we knew them probably also for the sake of memories from our shared early childhood.

But it felt different this time. The fact that I was so emotionally exposed to him today was possibly one of the reasons why I felt nervous. I knew we were best friends, he was a brother I never had, but suddenly it felt intimate. I was conscious about the fact that I had no bra on, and although I made sure I wasn’t flashing him anything, he had to reach to my lower back to fix the zipper and then slide it across my bare skin.

“Please be gentle with it.” I added. His knuckles softly pushed against me, when he tried to slowly pull the zipper up.

“Exactly how gentle are we speaking?” He chuckled. Then he put one hand on my hip and led me slightly backwards, so that he could sit on my bed.

“Gentle as in I spent all my savings on the only dress I have for my sister’s wedding.” I turned a little to him, trying to steal a glance at what he’s doing. “It’s okay if you can’t do it, I’ll have to try…”

“Shut up, I’ve got it.” He shushed me and pushed me slightly forward again. I felt him stand up and take a light grip at the zipper, before gently pulling it up my spine. “Straighten up.” I stretched out my back as he asked, or maybe even a little too much. My hips moved backwards and made my butt hit his front. It made me feel nauseous again; I was definitely not ready for a wave of seemingly irrational feelings. It was just Tom, and yet I was scared of accidentally touching his crotch with my ass. “Alright, all pretty here.” He smoothed out the material on both my shoulders and I could feel him hesitate for a moment, before he let go of me completely.

“Thanks.” I smiled shyly at him and made my way to the mirror, before he could say I was nervous. I started working on the bow on my neckline.

“Oh, so you’re tying them all up?”

“Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to look. So you better watch carefully, cause I can’t do the other two as pretty as this one.”

“Man, I thought I only came here to decide on a tie.” He moaned mockingly. I could see him in the mirror, he came up to stand next to me and watch my fingers in action.

“You’re free to go, I can always ask my mom to do it for me.” I shrugged, straightening up the loose ends of the bow.

“And leave my date for the night? No, thank you.” He winked at me cheekily, and I laughed at him. I pulled out my tongue at him and scrunched up my nose. “Don’t do it, your face will stay like this forever.”

“Wouldn’t you like that? At least you could laugh at me, if my jokes aren’t funny to you.” I challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, at least one of us has to stay pretty.”

“I thought you said you were pretty?”

“The word is CUTE.” He emphasized. “And there are people who agree on this.” He added. I reached out with my hand to him, so he could try and make an even bow.

“Your granny?” And there it was. Making fun of him as a coping mechanism, whenever I was noticing the upside of his appearance and thinking about it longer than necessary.

“She’s my number one fan, so she counts.” I pointed at the longer end of the knot, so he started fixing it to make it even with the other.

“I thought she was Paddy’s number one fan. Or Sam’s for his abnormal cooking skills.” He smiled soundly at this. “But hey, don’t worry. Your best friend is your fan.”

“You mean Harrison? Yeah, he’s okay. But he’s got history of being more of an assistant, you know?” Tom snorted out a loud laugh at his word and I couldn’t stay silent at that.

“I thought you had another best friend?” He pretended to be deep in thought. I briefly checked on the ready bows and straightened up my sleeves.

“Can’t think of anyone else. Care to share?” He playfully scratched his chin like an old aristocrat. I moved around him to start gathering my things, keeping in mind that I should touch up my lipstick.

“For all I know, you’ve had one super fan ever since you met her as a wee nicked kid.”

“Wow, I must’ve had a very peculiar taste in choosing my best friends.” He laughed, and I only sent him a sideway smile. Although I was the one to encourage our fun exchange, I wasn’t sure if it made me feel comfortable. I wasn’t doubting his friendship, but sometimes I would get this nagging thought starting with ‘what if….’ I didn’t know how I felt anymore, and the sole fact that I was packing my small handbag to my sister’s wedding was near to give me a serious panic attack.

I sat down on a little chair next to the window and started doing up my deep red, velvet lace up pumps with four cross-straps that ended in tiny golden buttons. These were also way out of my every-day comfort zone, but figured as the prettiest pair of shoes I owned. Plus, they went well probably only with this dress. I actually had to spend a couple of days walking around the house in them, just so I could remember if I could walk in high heels.

I stood up, slowly moving around my feet to adjust the fit, and that’s when my mind became a complete mayhem.

“You look so foxy. You should wear heels to work, I bet they would take your ideas seriously in these.” Frank’s words kept on replaying in my head and I was ready to rip those shoes apart. I felt a terrible scrunch in my tummy and I couldn’t hold it anymore. As quickly as I could without tripping over, I made my way to the bathroom and knelt next to the open toilet, ready to empty my stomach any second. A loud sob escaped my lips when nothing would come out and I had to live through the worst wave of nausea. I started ugly-crying, letting go of every inch of calm that tried to keep my nerves under control. I leaned with my elbows on the toilet seat and just held myself there.

“Minnie, are you okay?” I felt Tom squat beside me, his hand gently laid on my back and started rubbing it in soothing circles. I just shook my head and kept on crying, unable to even talk to him. I tried taking deep breaths to calm my body down, but another loose thought about my ex-boyfriend clouded my head and I leaned over the toilet again, hoping this could end already in one way or another. Tom’s free hand went to the bow that started hanging in a risky zone and tucked it close to my chest. His other one went up, massaging slightly my neck to help me relax. “I will breathe with you, okay? It might get better if you follow.” He said in a hushed, yet stern voice. “Come on, one large in,” he inhaled loudly and I tried to mimic him. “now hold it for a second for me, let your body relax,” except that I couldn’t, and my face scrunched in misery. “It’s okay, try again Mills. It’s just a panic attack, you can get through this. Come on, breathe.”

He guided me through a few more deep cycles until my crying stopped. Somewhere during the second inhale I was breaking again, so he rested his forehead on the side of my head, right above my ear, where I could feel his breath on my skin and focus solely on it.

“That’s my girl. You’re safe with me, okay? I promise.” I only nodded rapidly. He slowly moved away to kiss my head in a protective gesture, as he used to whenever he was being affectionate with me.

“Fuck, I’m such a mess!” I groaned in frustration, still feeling the heavy beating of my heart. I sat down on the floor, trying to untangle my feet from under me and rest them somewhat comfortably, even if it meant resting my legs in the most revealing pose. I rested my back on the side of the bath and hid my face in my hands. I squeezed out a few more tears, until I felt a gentle tug on both my wrists.

“Look at me,” Tom asked sternly. He massaged my wrists and patiently waited for me to lift up my eyes to his concentrated gaze. “You’re a mess only if you let yourself feel like one. And I’m not here to see you miserable.”

“Easy for you to say! My sister’s about to get hitched and I keep on thinking about how… how I used to hope, that this would be me and Frank one day because my mind is so fucked up and… and I allowed him to treat my feelings like shit! Just because I wanted someone to fucking love me and want to have a life with me and be my fucking lover!” I let out loudly with a broken sob mid-sentence.

“For fuck’s sake, stop hurting yourself!” He raised his voice and I could feel my heart drop. “I understand it fucking hurts. And I’m so, so sorry, I know you were deeply invested in your relationship with Frank, I get it. But please, for just one moment, try to imagine how would it be if you stopped dwelling on this shit!” He took a frustrated breath and tried to remain composed. He stood up and leaned back on the sink with crossed arms. He closed his eyes, but then started watching me carefully, as if to see if I was going to snap again.

I just sat there motionlessly, too shocked to react in any way. My brain was tired from the panic attack, my body ached from the nerves, and my tongue got cut off by shame. I closed my eyes and tried to rethink my current situation, sort out my feelings. There was a part of me that wanted to reach out to hope, to reason, and to the right place in my heart. Right when I was imagining the right place for my heart, my eyes snapped open to check if Tom was still standing there. He was, eyes glued to me, posture flexed and ready to react. But his face so soft I wanted to burst out in tears again. He was this soft for me.

I reached out to him with my hands and he pulled me up from the floor.

“Exactly how many times should I fucking remind you that you’re better than this, that you actually are lovable, and that there are people who care about you more than that asshole, the one who actually called himself your boyfriend for three years but didn’t deserve it at all?” He asked gently, stepping closer to me. He swiped his thumb underneath my eye, where probably a mascara disaster was happening. Tom gave me a broken smile and it was that smile – the one that made my heart grow and get warm. And suddenly I got goosebumps across my whole body because he was the one to make my mind shut up. All that was left was pure admiration for his care, for his tender smile and for his sparkling brown eyes. This revelation made me feel incredibly exposed to him and almost made me feel shy.

“Could you tell me that one more time?” I replied quietly, still feeling the touch of his hand on my cheek. Curiosity led my voice and made me swallow hard. He smirked at me in a way that I knew made girls swoon over him. However, this time was different and I was the one over the moon.

“Millie, you are incredibly lovable and I fucking care about you. You can get through this and you will, just get your shit together.” He chuckled at the end and I mirrored his reaction, but still heard the first two most important phrases ring through my head. “You are too gorgeous to be still thinking about someone who didn’t make you happy, alright?”

“You promise?”

“Do I promise?” He asked dumbfoundedly and turned us both around, so that we were standing in front of a tall mirror. “Look at yourself, you’re a doll,” He wrapped his arm around my waist when he said that. It felt really warm and right. “you’re perfect in every inch, you look exquisite, hell I’m gonna say it…” he started before cracking a soft, almost nervous laugh. It was obvious he tried to stay composed and professional, but he broke. “you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, that’s it. End of this discussion. Now fix your pretty face, get your fancy bag, and we’ll go see your sister at her happiest.”

I did as he asked but with the amount of warm words that kept replaying in my head, the fifteen minutes that it took me to freshen up felt like a mere second. I felt as if my body was just existing and my soul was floating beside me, intently watching my and Tom’s every move. My floating side kept pushing me into his side, knowing that it will be the best way to stay safe and content. Tom always was a gentleman, his parents raised him well. However, this time when we walked down the corridor to the stairs, and then to the foyer where some guests gathered before entering the main hall where the wedding was supposed to take place, I couldn’t stop thinking about these little gestures. Carefully keeping his hand on my lower back whenever we were turning or passing someone. Smiling down at me whenever I stole a glance at him. Letting me go everywhere first, but not before smoothly checking if there was anything I would possibly trip over. Staying by my side all the time and making sure I was okay. Of course, he was now my date to the wedding. But if any of his brothers were at his place, it wouldn’t be the same.

We were approaching more crowded groups of people and I slowed down. I started feeling incredibly self-conscious and uneasy, especially with the looks that people I knew gave me. Most probably, they looked because I was the bride’s sister, I was finally wearing heels, I had the most makeup since last Christmas, and Tom was side by side with me. Although I doubted it stunned our families that we could be seen together, there were a lot of Liz and Dave’s friends whom we didn’t know, or just old aunties who loved a good gossip. I became fully aware of all of the eyes pointed at us and I felt my insides tremble dangerously. I stopped abruptly and tried to mask my nervousness by fake-fixing my dress. Tom looked back at and raised his funky eyebrow at me, silently asking what’s up. He stepped closer to me and blocked the view of the most intense stares. I stared down at the bows at my sleeves and started anxiously rearranging the strings. I exhaled with an audible shake to my breath and closed my eyes. We stood face to face and I could feel him watching my movements.

“You’re shaking” He whispered, bringing his mouth to the side of my head. Then I felt his fingertips gently touch my hand, before he slowly slid his fingers through mine. Our hands molded together and it calmed me in a way I didn’t know was possible.

“I’m nervous.” I mumbled, so that only he could hear. He left a sweet kiss on my cheek and winked at me.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I let out a nervous laugh and he seemed pleased with my reaction. “Come on, head up, you’re gonna walk in hand in hand with Peter Parker.” He slowly maneuvered the hand he was holding so that I could easily take his arm in an elegant way

“I would rather walk in with Tom Holland.”

“You’re lucky he’s friends with Parker. You can have both.”

Tagging some of the people who I wish would read this bc I love their blogs even though not all of you probably love Tom but I LOVE YOU

@lauras-collection @peeterparkr @thirsttrapholland @fondlynarry @niallandtommo @heyhihellowhatsup0 @constellationsv @angel-spidey @starkissedholland

#saws300followerwc #writing challenge #tom holland #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #Tom Holland fanfiction #prompt challenge #my writing #millie and tommy #millie and tom #my fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff

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jabbajambler · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Dance

AU One Shot

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 1,902

Night had long since fallen on Canto Bight, but the planet was never truly asleep. Casinos and clubs were filled to the very brim with people. Gamblers, party-goers, and the occasional hunters gathered on the planet. No one truly knew what happened within the walls, the secrets that each room held

After all, what happens on Canto Bight, stays on Canto Bight.

Tonight was no different. People danced, mingled, drank, and gambled. Every night was a celebration and the people there lived it to the fullest.

At the bar sat a mysterious man. He was tall and sat with the confidence of someone who had visited the planet several times. Yet no one recognized him.

It would be hard not to remember the glistening beskar armor, paired with a matching helmet that hid his face from the galaxy. And here he sat at the bar on a busy night, without being able to take a mere sip of a drink. It was ironic, really.

His gaze shifted over the vast room of people dressed in black and white. It was a gorgeous room of riches, something he was rarely able to see. The walls were tall, painted or possibly even made from gold. Long, thick red curtains were draped against the glimmering walls as if each fold was made on purpose.

The Mandalorian had never seen anything like it.

He watched as the people danced around one last time before he remembered his mission at hand. Someone here was meant to deliver him information on his bounty and they were already fifteen minutes late. He knew damn well that he didn’t blend in with the casual scene, he wouldn’t be hard to find. So why were they so late? Or was it all a set up?

“Looking for someone?”

The voice brought him out of his thoughts. It was so delicate and kind, nothing he would have ever expected to come from the cruel world of Canto Bight.

Behind all its glory and lights was a darkness like no other. The Mandalorian knew that and little did he know, the sweet voice he heard tonight knew as well.

“Well?” They asked again in the silence. He let a quiet sigh escape his modulator as he spun to face the sound’s origin. His eyes widened behind his helmet as he met the gentle stare of the woman beside him.

Her skin was graced with a gentle, tanned glow. It matched perfectly with her dark, piercing eyes and soft, brown curls that fell just past her collar bone. His eyes shifted downwards, watching the sparkle of her black, shimmering dress. It was an asymmetric sort of dress that was held up with a thick strap over her left shoulder. The dress landed right at her ankle, displaying her pearly-white heels that were clipped, meeting where the dress ended.

“No.” He spoke gruffly, quickly pulling his gaze from her, trying to focus anywhere else.

“Really?” She hummed and crossed her ankles, her heel just barely brushing against the Mandalorian’s boot. Still, he noticed. “So you’re not here with anyone then?”

His head tilted at her question, the light bouncing off the helm as it moved. It was certainly a question he didn’t expect and one he wasn’t sure he ever received.

“Well, surely a man like you isn’t just sitting here for no reason. You must be after something.” She shuffled her seat close to his, her foot now tapping against his shin. He assumed it was only an accident, but he didn’t want her to stop either.

His eyes lifted to meet hers. They held a soft yet somehow stern stare that he found himself drawn to. He couldn’t look away from them, it was as though they were pulling him in. Closer, and closer, he leaned towards her.

She met him in the middle, her lips barely touching the cold, metal helmet as she whispered to him. “I know what you’re after. The information? I have it.”

His head snapped to meet hers. Her face was close, closer than he expected. He could see every detail, every speck of color in her eyes and he thought they were unbelievable. He wanted to map out the features of her face and memorize them while he could.

“All you owe me is a dance.” Her lips lifted into a timid smirk. His eyes caught note of the way the corners moved up to create a lovely smile that he had never seen directed towards him.

“I can’t dance.” He mumbled. “Tell me now.”

She rolled her eyes while her fingers danced across his wrist, moving slowly, tentatively up his arm until she cautiously grasped his bicep. He tried and failed to hold back the shiver that accompanied her touch.

“I refuse to believe that a man who has traveled the galaxy can’t dance. Besides, no one out there cares anyway. So exactly how important is this info to you?” She tilted her head, her curls following to reveal her bare shoulder. Her skin looked soft and he wondered what it would actually feel like beneath his fingertips.

He could’ve forced her to give up the information. He could’ve pulled her up by the arm and dragged her out the door, held a blaster to her head and threatened the information out of her.

But he knew he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Nor did he want to.

“Fine.”

“That’s what I thought.” She stood, allowing the dress to fall perfectly around her. It wasn’t just the dress that sparkled, he thought, that was just her. Her entire attitude and aura shone before him like she was the most important person in the room.

She reached her hand out towards him, resulting in another simple head tilt. This was not his area of expertise, nowhere close, in fact. Yet he was willing to put himself in such a vulnerable place for this woman that he never met before.

He finally lifted himself from the seat, carefully taking her arm beneath his while she pulled him towards the crowd of dancers. Her smile was beaming, shining brighter than the stars in the sky and the Mandalorian wondered what else he could do to make her smile.

She put her hand on his shoulder, right between the area where his cape and pauldron met. He could feel the heat of her palm through the cloth and for a moment, he relished in the feeling before pulling himself back to reality. His hand snaked its way to the small of her back. He found himself wondering if she felt the same way he had when her hand made contact with him.

The Mandalorian’s other hand lifted to hold hers, almost wishing he didn’t have the leather glove barrier between them. No one looked at the two, even though they were an obscure pair. Everyone was lost in their own world and Mando wondered why shouldn’t he do the same?

The band played a beautiful, soft tune that carried through the masses yet the two had yet to move. He felt a sense of nervousness with the girl before him. He didn’t want to embarrass her.

“Don’t be so tense.” She teased and wrapped her arm around him, her hand resting against the back of his neck. She was so close that he could smell the citrus scent that wafted off of her and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“I don’t dance.” He grumbled, but enjoyed every second he was so close to her.

“Then follow my lead.” She winked and took a few steps this way and that way in accordance with the music. The Mandalorian begrudgingly followed her steps but tried to not come off as clueless as he felt in the moment.

It started off as a simple sway sort of movement, but slowly Mando found himself understanding the concept. He glanced around at the crowd, afraid of what his thoughts would say if he glanced down at the wondrous woman in his arms.

A few people started to watch the two, whispering short things about the Mandalorian. They were noticing how strange this all looked and it made him want to reach for his blaster, something to protect him after he let his guard down.

“Hold me closer.”

“What?” He finally looked down, watching how her eyes quickly inspected their surroundings.

“You want your info, don’t you? People are listening, pull me closer.” She hissed.

He didn’t quite grasp the reasoning but he wasn’t going to argue anymore. He pulled her to his chest, his grip on her tightened as though he didn’t want to let her go.

“Where’s the asset?”

“So quick to jump into business.” She tsked and removed her hand from his neck, running her fingers over the smooth beskar.

He watched her move, wondering what it would be like if there was no armor there at all. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the feeling of her tracing the gentle shapes through the thin cloth behind the chest plate.

She pressed her lips to the helmet once again, pulling her free hand from his to replace the lost warmth at the back of his neck. He tried not to move too quickly as his now free hand met his other on her waist.

“They’re hidden away on Jakku. A pretty shitty planet if you ask me, but I guess it’s an okay place to hide.”

“Have you been?” He asked curiously. He’d never been to Jakku, never heard much about it till now.

“Once or twice. I know the bounty’s armed and waiting for someone like you.” Her fingers moved to his helmet, pushing his head to face her without any resistance from him. “I’m sure you can handle him though.”

“What do I owe you for this?” His voice was gentle while his eyes drifted from her face to the curve of her neck. The grip on her waist tensed once again as he wanted to lift his hand to trace the dip of her collar bone.

“Oh, darling.” She chuckled and moved her hand from the back to the front of his neck. “All I wanted was a dance.” Her fingers fiddled with the fabric of his cloak while Mando found himself unable to breathe.

“Surely I can repay you.” His head ducked towards her ear, causing another laugh to fall from her lips.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mando, but I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done. Besides, don’t you have a bounty to catch?” She pressed her hands firm against his chest to push away from his strong grip, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Seemed like he was able to make her smile again after all.

“You know, I didn’t catch your name.” He called after her as she started to walk away.

“Myrah. Myrah Koor. And yours?”

“D-”

“I’m kidding.” She stopped him before he even realized he was about to give it away, something he had kept so sacred yet for her, he would’ve given it up without a second thought. “Look me up if you ever come back to Canto Bight.” She waved before disappearing in the crowd.

If he ever came back to Canto Bight. That was something he swore he wouldn’t do once he arrived but now? He may just have to.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #mandalorian #mandalorian x oc #din djarin #din djarin x oc #dyn jarren #oc #star wars #pedro pascal characters

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incandescent-creativity · 4 years

Text

Pre-Games: Mal and Olu

V. the chariots

I twist the golden ribbons tied at my waist, tight enough to dig into the flesh of my hands. The scars from years of field work have faded thanks to whatever cream the stylists gave me, and I’m still not used to the soft skin.

“Don’t,” Mal reprimands, having noticed my nerves. “There’s no need.”

“I know, I know. I’ll mess it up.” The stylists have been very clear about leaving their work untouched.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says with a smile. How can she smile during at a time like this? “You look great. Angelic, even,” she adds with a cocked, knowing grin.

“You really think so?”

I look down at the outfit with new eyes. At first, I thought the tight yellow leather pants were gaudy, but they do balance out the creamy white shirt with gold trimming and stitching rather well. The twin stalks of grain sticking up from the headband they gave me is a little garish, but overall, I suppose the outfit isn’t bad.

Maluka’s dress, on the other hand, is stunning. It features a steep V that ends below her sternum, and the whole thing is caked with glittery diamonds that stand out against the navy blue fabric. They are scattered as the stars are in the sky. Even her earrings are crescent moons.

I don’t know why they’ve dressed us as this; something about the sun helping our fields grow, and the moon that helps the tides we use to water them.

Whatever the reason, Maluka is stunning. The confident smile she gives me when she says, “Of course I do,” is even more so.

“I suppose I’ll need to be angelic if we’re to win the hearts of the people,” I say with a sigh.

Mal climbs up into the chariot and offers me a hand. I very pointedly look up into her face and not at her chest.

“Don’t worry,” she says with a wink. “Who could ever resist us?”

For a moment, I believe her. For a second, I believe in us. We’re in for the fight of our lives, but we have been fighting our own battles for years. I have been asking why us, but perhaps a better question is:

Why not us?

I wrap her hand in mine, and she pulls me up into the chariot. I stand behind the horse draped in golds and browns, while Mal takes her place behind the one in blue and silver.

“Maluka,” I say quietly as the wheels start to move.

“Yes, angel?”

My heart flips. “They have to see us as a team, right?”

“I mean, we are a team.”

“But they don’t know that.”

I see her head turn to look up at me, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. We’re about to be in front of the Capitol, and there’s no time.

“Don’t resist,” I tell her.

“What are you talking about?”

Then we’re in the lights. The noise of the crowd envelops us, and my anxiety swells along with the volume. In such a mess, I had forgotten the effect crowds have on me. The weight of all these eyes on me—

No, not on me.

The Capitol’s eyes are on us. Maluka is here with me, standing right at my side.

She even willingly takes my hand when I slide mine down her arm. I give it one squeeze of warning before I make my move.

In one swift smooth motion, I turn Maluka towards me and hook my leg behind hers. I don’t pull her back far enough to fall, or hit her head on the chariot. I simply bend her back to cradle her in my arms and bend my head over hers to touch our foreheads together.

The crowd’s reaction is a swelling roar, but all I hear is Maluka’s sharp intake of breath.

“Holy shit, you’re strong,” she whispers.

Her observation is just candid enough to make me smile, so when I stand us back up it is with a wide grin on my face. It doesn’t even falter when Mal wraps one of her arms around my waist and pulls herself close to my side.

We stand that way until the chariots reach their destination.

VI. training

I can’t sleep the day before training.

Not because of any nerves or anything. That’s Olu’s area of expertise. Instead, my mind is stuck replaying their utter confidence in sweeping my leg to press our bodies close together. They were strong, and smooth, and their smile was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s a move they’ve pulled before. But what circumstance would have ever called for something like that?

I can’t come up with one, and my mind alternates between trying to come up with an answer and being distracted by the memory of our chariot.

When there’s a knock on my door, it’s a physical pain to drag myself up out of bed. But I do it.

It’s only when I actually get to the training room that I realize I hadn’t thought about what I’d say to my teammate when I saw them. Not that it would have mattered; I’m quite sure any words I would have prepared would have died on my tongue.

If Olufemi was a vision yesterday on the chariot, they are even more so today. It makes no sense, I know. Why would I be more attracted to them when they’re wearing a form fitting tank top that fully displays the muscles of their arms and shoulders than when they’ve been dressed to the nines by stylists?

Then they slice the throat of a training dummy open without a single change in expression, and I have to stop my jaw from dropping.

Who knew a scythe was that deadly?

I duck away before Olu can catch me ogling, and start looking around for something to distract myself with. Preferably something on the opposite side of the room from... all of that.

The opposite side of the room turns out to be survival skills. Which isn’t glamorous, but neither was my work at home. And it makes sense; if Olu is going to be our muscle, I can handle the brainy parts of survival.

So I start learning all the different ways to construct and light a fire, and how to disguise shelters, and which foods can be found in what biomes. I do this for two days, and for two days I keep a close eye on Olu.

They’re chattier than I expected them to be. I want to tell them to stop giving pointers to our competition, when those pointers could potentially help them kill us later, but I’m also very pointedly keeping my distance.

Well, I’m keeping my distance until a pair of assholes walks up to them.

I’m pretty sure it’s the Careers from District 1: Phosphene and Mahogany. I’ve never heard such pretentious names in my life, and they look like they’ve got the personalities to match.

“Well, if it isn’t our local farmer,” the female starts. She’s gotta be Phosphene—only someone with that name would have long, straightened silver-blonde hair like that.

“Hate to break it to ya, champ, but we’re gonna be a bit harder to cut down than some plants,” the male boasts.

Olu doesn’t respond, apparently opting for the “stoic silence” approach. Personally, I prefer the opposite.

“You know,” I say, walking up as casually as I can, “there’s actually quite a few species of plant that possess more strength than human bone. That’s why we made boats out of wood instead of femurs.

“Although,” I say, as if the possibility had just occurred to me, “maybe we can test that theory in the arena. Would you like to donate to the cause?”

The poor brute has no idea how to respond to my sweet smile, but the girl just rolls her eyes and turns away with a toss of platinum hair.

I wiggle my fingers in a wave that neither of them see, but that’s fine. Better to not get in a fight until I have to.

“I was handling it,” Olu says quietly.

I jump. I hadn’t even noticed them sidling closer to me to pick out a new blade to practice with.

“Yeah, I know. I just handled it first,” I respond as coolly as I can.

“Great,” they say, just as cool. “Do you want one?”

“Want one?” I repeat. “A—a dagger?”

Olu shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

I almost say, “You’re being weird,” but they’re already moving towards the targets. All I can do is look around to make sure District 1 is gone, and head to the spears.

VII. judgment

I settle onto the couch next to Maluka, who hands me a glass of some sort of bubbling, fizzing drink.

I don’t know what it is, so I simply hold it in my hand. The screen is already on, and we’re a couple of districts away from our scores. Mal still hasn’t told me what she did for her demonstration, so I haven’t been forthcoming with mine, either.

In fact, we don’t say a word to each other until our announcer brings up District 9.

“Here we go,” she says.

“Up first: Maluka Samale, with a score of... 6.”

“Damn,” she mutters, and drains the rest of her glass. That alone convinces me it’s alcoholic, and I set my own glass down gingerly.

“Hardly impressive,” I agree.

“But also slightly above average,” she counters. “I guess they weren’t impressed with my answers.”

“Your what?”

Mal waves a hand. “Oh, I just sat down and offered them the opportunity to discover my gift for strategy.”

“Is that what you call pissing off all your coworkers at least once?” I joke.

She snorts. “You know it.”

“And now, Olufemi Abdalla... who earned an 8.”

“Daaaamn,” Mal says again, only this time she’s impressed. “What did you do?”

I can only shrug. “The same thing I’ve been doing. Only I decapitated it this time instead of cutting it.”

“Holy shit,” she says, and I think it’s a compliment. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“I wasn’t trying to... avoid it,” I say.

An embellished number 10 flashes onto screen, and the two of us relax back into the couch.

“I guess they’re more impressed by brute strength than cleverness,” Mal says.

I turn my torso to look at her entirely, raising one of my eyebrows. “Am I mistaken, or is that resentment in your tone?”

“Absolutely not,” she says, deadpan. “Why would I resent you?”

I can’t name the emotion that clutches at my chest. Whatever it is, it’s cold.

“Look,” I say carefully, “if I overstepped with that move on the chariot, you should have told me sooner. You know I would have apologized.”

“What?” Maluka sounds genuinely puzzled. “No, that was... a very good move. Believe me, I’m not mad about that.”

“Well, what are you mad about?” I ask, panicked frustration creeping into my voice. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.

“Nothing!” she insists. “I just... Why were you avoiding me during training?”

Now it’s my turn for confusion. “What do you mean? You’re the one that stayed on the other side of the room.”

There is frustration on her side, too, evident in a rasping noise in the back of her throat. “Okay, so, we’re both avoidant. Do you want to team up for the interview, then?”

At least I can answer this one definitively. “Yes.”

“Great!” Mal says brightly. “How do we do that?”

VIII. the interview

By the time we’re being dressed up, we still haven’t come up with our answer.

I almost regret asking the question, to be honest. Every answer we’ve come up with has been wrong, or we feel like we could do better, or like someone else will be doing it, too.

The worst part of the whole situation is that I have a really great idea.

The only problems are: I’m not sure how to bring it up, how to phrase the question, what I’ll do if they say yes, what I’ll do if they say no, and if that’s really our best option. Oh, and I also don’t know what would happen after.

So for now, I try to focus on what’s going on right now. Namely, being dressed.

They’ve reversed our color schemes today. There was much debate about Olu’s warm undertones being ill-suited to a traditional black and white tuxedo, but I don’t know what the hell they were talking about. Olufemi is, as usual, stunning.

The blue comes in through their bowtie, and the square of fabric in their chest pocket, and the makeup on their lips and eyelids. Their eyes even get silver glitter to match the buttons and thread of the suit.

My own monkey suit is a bright yellow ballgown that reaches the floor. When I move and twirl, you can see the shiny patterns of grain sewn onto it. Getting it on was actually a surprisingly brief process; the rest of my time so far has been spent doing shit with my hair.

I hardly recognize myself when they place me in front of the mirror. The final product means half my hair is piled up into a bun, while the rest of it falls free.

Smoothing it over despite the perfection of their work, I comment, “I didn’t even know I had this much hair.”

“I think they were a bit frustrated with my lack of hair, too,” Olu confides, even though their tight, fuzzy curls are a whole different thing from my undercut.

“Yeah, but you have so much else to work with,” I point out. “I mean, how many times did they praise your long legs?”

“At least four,” they respond. “It was excessive, wasn’t it?”

“Excessive is their middle name,” I agree.

After a beat of silence, they inquire, “So, have you come up with our brilliant strategy yet?”

I sigh. “Well, I have one idea to help us stand out. But I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

“What’s that?”

Their voice is full of perfectly innocent curiosity. For some reason, it fills me with guilt.

“Never mind. Stupid idea.”

Olufemi doesn’t appreciate being dismissed. Their face drops into an unamused, flat expression. “Tell me.”

Yikes. “Okay. Okay. Sorry. I just thought we could... have our first kiss on camera?”

Their expression doesn’t change too much. Instead, their eyes slide away from mine to stare at the wall in contemplation. When they move to meet mine again, I can see that they’ve reached some sort of conclusion. I just don’t know what conclusion that is.

“You’re right,” they announce. “It’s a stupid idea.”

I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know if I could say anything, my stomach has dropped so hard.

Taking a step closer to me, Olufemi says, “We should have our second kiss on camera.”

“Our—second?” I ask. “We haven’t even had our first. You want to spend the whole interview time making out? Because I’m not sure—”

One of their hands brushes past my jawline, against my ear to cradle the back of my skull, and I promptly shut up. It’s the same position they used to ensure I didn’t hit my head on the chariot.

And just like on the chariot, I’m caught staring into the depths of their dark brown eyes.

Leaning down to gently touch their forehead to mine yet again, Olu asks, “What do you say, Maluka? May I kiss you here before I do it again on camera?”

“Oh, god, please,” I whisper.

When their full lips press against mine, I can feel a smile fading from them.

#my writing #prompt response #whg #ship: malufemi

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spunky-89 · 4 years

Text

A Very Merry Christmas

A/N: Hellloooo, so I know it’s not the weekend, but in my defense, I lost a day. I thought today was Sunday but I have been informed I was wrong. Anywho, this will be a two-parter as I wrote soooo much it felt like I needed to snip it a bit. So without further ado, here is the next part (not in story timeline) of “Domestic(ish) Life”!!!!!

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3100

The second Thanksgiving ended, you were all in on Christmas. This was not new information to Steve and Bucky. Though Bucky only had a year under his belt where Steve had five. But they knew how much you loved the holiday so even when they weren’t really in the mood, they put on the Santa hats and smiled because it made you happy. And there was nothing they loved more than seeing you happy. ---------

“Come on, come on, come ooonnn,” You whined as you tried to drag the two super soldiers into the tent.

“We’re coming,” Steve laughed.

“Not fast enough.” you groaned and ditched them to head into the tent in front of them.

“I don’t understand why we don’t do this-”

“If you say the old fashion way I swear Bucky, I will murder you.” You glared as he came up behind you.

He put his hands up and laughed, “All right, message received.”

“Good, now put these muscles to use and pull that tree out for me.” You asked as you patted his chest and pointed to a tree towards the back.

You knew that you could actually go to a tree farm in New York, but your family had always gotten them from the tents at Home Depot, Lowes, or just a stand off the main road. It was one of the traditions you couldn’t let go of. That and needing to get a real tree, even when you were alone and had to drag it up to your apartment by yourself.

Steve came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you shared a quiet laugh as you watched Bucky fight to get the tree you wanted from the pile.

“Thank you for doing this with me. I know it’s kind of silly, but-”

“Hey, it’s not silly. It’s something you love and something that means a lot to you. You know we’re there if it means making you happy.” He said. Bucky then let out a string of curses under his breath as he finally got the tree out. “And I can’t say I don’t enjoy myself.”

You giggled and moved forward to evaluate the tree.

Two hours and three Tree Tents later, you had found your perfect tree. The boys helped bring it up and set it in its base. You smiled, clapped, and did a little dance once it was in place.

“I’m glad you’re happy, but I am never doing that again,” Bucky grumbled.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that.” Steve teased.

“There is sap all in the groves of my hand. That shit is never coming out.”

“Le gasp! We do not use that kind of language sir!” You exclaimed in fake shock.

“God I hate you guys.”

“But seriously,” You giggled as you pecked Steve on the cheek in apology, “I told you to wear gloves. It is not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t think they were necessary!”

“Well, you should know that I’m always right and you should really listen to me more.” You smiled.

“Whatever, let’s just decorate it.”

“Sorry hunny, but we can’t decorate quite yet. We need to give it a day or two to make sure it’s all puffed out.”

“I have no idea what you just said or why that’s a thing,” Bucky stated as he plopped next to you on the couch.

“It meeaanns, the trees from tents are usually all wrapped up, so it takes them some time to flatten out. So if we put lights and ornaments on it now, they are liable to just fall off once the branches have adjusted.” You explained.

“I see. I still think it’s stupid and next year we’re taking you to a tree farm.”

“Oh, so you’re already planning for next year huh?” You teased.

“You can’t get rid of me princess.” He said as he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap as he hugged you tight and layed kisses all over you while you giggled.

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

The boys were extremely unhappy when a mission popped up two weeks before Christmas. They were so excited to do all the fun Christmas things with you for your first official Christmas as a couple. You assured them it was fine, as it was just a day after all. You firmly held the belief that the day you celebrated didn’t matter, as long as you were celebrating with the ones you love. So off they went.

You were almost kind of glad they were gone. It gave you plenty of time to get their gifts done. You firstly picked up some of the gifts you and Bucky had discussed for Steve and the same with Bucky’s. You had all made the decision to include each other in the gift-giving process to make sure no one got the same things. It was working out pretty good. You did decide to do something extra for both the boys. You wanted to spoil them and it was something you’d been planning for a while anyway. So you got to work. Though you loved buying gifts, you also loved making them. It made you feel like it was just a touch more personal. Luckily you had some time off and were able to put it to use. You actually made it a girls’ night. Nat and Wanda weren’t needed for the mission, so you invited them and Pepper over. You all had a ball, mixing wine and crafts. Though they were all crafty in their own right, they always said your assistance and expertise made it way easier and the product much prettier. Some of the creations were just for fun, or in Pepper’s case, a fun gift to give the man who had pretty much everything.

“So what’s the deal with that?” Nat asked as she was laser-focused on her wine glass, not the one that was full, the one she was painting.

“Well, I’ve been working on this for months, bullying Tony and even enlisting Maria’s help to gather some relics from their past and- I don’t know. I thought it would be cute.” You said with a shrug.

“Oh it’s adorable, I just wasn’t sure what it was from or where you got the idea.” She assured you.

“Oh, it’s from one of my favorite movies.” You explained.

“I see,”

“Hey (Y/N/N), how do you use this thing again?” Wanda asked, staring at the Cricut with hatred in her eyes. You laughed as you put down what you were working on and went over to show her.

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

When the boys returned only five days later, they were thrilled. There was a minor concern that their mission would mess up the holidays, but luck was on your side for this one. But they were faced with a new problem. Christmas was coming fast, and they were stumped at what to get their girl. They knew very well she wasn’t super materialistic and cared more for small gestures then grand ones. But they were just so unsure of what to do. This was the first official Christmas as a triad, and they were panicking.

“I feel like you gotta go jewelry, my man, it’s a classic,” Sam suggested when the boys brought their fears and worries to him.

“But that’s just it, it’s classic. She deserves more than that.” Bucky said with a groan.

“I don’t know, jewelry is pretty romantic. And it can be kind of personalized for her.”

“Still not what we’re looking for though,” Bucky argued.

“Hey, you asked for my help!”

“No Steve asked you. For some reason,”

“Stop it, both you.” Steve sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head.

“I’m just saying, I mean, how many successful relationships has he had?” Bucky asked,

“I’ve had relationships!”

“Name two that have lasted longer than 2 months.”

“Listen here-”

“Enough.”

The three men sat in silence for a while after that.

“What about a companion?” Asked a female voice. Steve and Sam jumped a bit at the sudden appearance of Natasha.

“What?”

“Like a pet or something. I mean she’s always sad when she’s left alone when you guys go on missions.”

“No no, that part I got.” Bucky said, “But how the hell did you know what we were talking about?”

“You guys have been struggling for a week. It’s getting really close to Christmas, I gave an educated guess.”

“You scare me,” Sam said, completely straight-faced.

“Oh, I know that.” She said, smiling innocently at him.

“I don’t know Nat, an animal is so much work.” Steve said, “And they usually end up destroying a lot.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N) is great with animals.” She argued.

“I don’t know,”

“I kinda like the idea.” Bucky chimed in.

“Of course you would. You want a pet just as much as she does.”

“All the more reason. It’s a two-for-one gift.” Bucky said a bright smile on his face.

“I hate you.”

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

An hour later the two men were at a local animal shelter asking the kind workers for help. The receptionist freaked out for a minute but was able to get over her shock and help them. They took a picture with her but made her promise not to post it anywhere until after Christmas as to not ruin the surprise. She willingly agreed.

“So, are you looking for a dog or a cat? Or something else?” She asked as she led them to a back office to talk so they wouldn’t be seen by others out in the main area.

“Uh, we’re not really sure actually,” Steve admitted.

The woman laughed and had them sit down to chat.

“Okay, so this is for your mystery girlfriend I assume?”

“Yeah, we want to get her a companion for when we’re gone, but we’re not sure what would be best,” Bucky explained.

“Alright, does she have a preference for one type of animal?”

The two boys snorted.

“Anything that has fur and four legs.” Bucky laughed,

“Well, that’s not true, she also loves birds and bats.”

“Oh true, can’t forget the bats.”

The woman looked at the two icons in front of her, fond smiles on their faces as they spoke of their lover. She hoped she could one day find someone who would look like that when they talked about her. “I feel that I'm the same way.” She laughed, “Unfortunately, we don’t rescue bats here but we have lots of furry friends.”

“Do have any animals that have been here for a while? Or any animals that you guys don’t think anyone is going to take?”

“Well, we have quite a few that have been here for a year or more, a few senior animals which are less popular, and then animals who have some form of illness or disability.”

“Not one with an illness or disability. Though I’m sure she would love it unconditionally, I think a healthy animal would be better.” Steve said.

“So judgmental Steve,”

“Shut it punk,” Steve said as he glared. He turned back to the woman who was smiling as she watched the two men.

“Come on, I’ll show you a few different critters and you can see what you think will complete your family.”

She led them out the door and down a hallway. Immediately they could hear the barking.

“So, these are some of the dogs who need special attention or are small enough we can fit them in the kennel. We have bigger dogs and healthy ones outside in big pens so they have room to roam.” The woman explained.

She led them to a cage with a small shaggy terrier. It started yapping as soon as the boys walked up.

“So this is Nancy, she’s 3 years old and she’s been here for 8 months. She had some heartworms but she is finally done with treatment and is ready to find her forever home.”

The two boys shared a look.

“She’s cute but I don’t think we want a tiny dog,” Steve said.

“Specifically no yappers,” Bucky added.

The woman laughed and nodded, “I don’t blame you. But that will help our search a little bit.”

She then led them outside where they could see a number of fenced-in areas with dogs of all kinds running, sleeping, or playing with their toys.

“So, first we have Pluto, he’s a 6-year-old Lab/Pit mix. He’s a sweetheart but people get scared with him being part pitbull. He’s active but not so much that he’s too much to handle. He does enjoy going for walks and playing with his ball. He also loves tug-of-war, but I usually warn people about hurting their shoulders due to his strength, but I get the feeling you two won’t need to worry about that.” She smiled as she crouched down to call over the dog.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got that covered.” Steve laughed.

Bucky got down right next to the worker and started petting him through the fence.

“Oh, aren’t you a cutie. Oooh, you’re so sweet.” Bucky cooed.

“I’m gonna live to regret having you here aren’t I?”

“Listen, these cuties need someone to love them. Let me live my life.” Bucky snapped playfully defensive.

Steve laughed and they all moved on to the next dog, then onto cats, and finally the birds and small critters like hamsters and ferrets.

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

Their next stop was the pet store. They talked to the woman at the shelter about what supplies they would need and she gave them a detailed list with some things that weren’t necessary, but might be good to have.

They never realized how many toys you could get for animals. Needless to say, they were extra glad for the instructions as they would have been lost without them. They had put their new family member on hold to be picked up on Christmas Eve and somehow figure out how they were going to smuggle it into the apartment. But they would worry about that later. Right now they were arguing over colors.

“We should get the pink or purple, they’re girl colors,” Steve argued.

“Did you really just say that? Do you know what (Y/N) would say if she heard that?” Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve nodded, realizing his mistake.

“Obviously,”

“Don’t get smart with me punk.”

“Whatever, we still need to pick a color.”

“What about (F/C)?”

“No, that’s a weird shade. She would hate that.”

“What about this one?” Steve asked, holding up a sparkly red/orange one with little brown flecks in it.

Bucky tilted his head. “It’s very fall, but I think she’ll love it.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“One thing down, a hundred to go.” Bucky sighed looking at the list.

“I don’t want to hear it, this is all on you pal. You wanted to do this.” Steve said.

“Oh I know, I have no regrets.”

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

Once they had all of the stuff, they made a quick stop to get bags, boxes, and wrapping paper. They knew they would have to wait until tomorrow to wrap their gifts as by now you were bound to be home from work and they had too much stuff to hide effectively.

They were so glad they had figured this out because they were down to the wire. It was only five days till Christmas.

With it being so close to Christmas you were practically glowing and floating on air. There was constantly a Christmas candle burning and music playing. After all the stress of the year between missions and dealing with telling people about your relationship, the boys were glad to see you let loose and be happy. You were only minorly stressed out because you had offered to host a small Christmas Eve get together with a few of the team who didn’t already have plans. Though you would all be gathering at the Tower for Christmas dinner. But on Christmas Eve it was just going to be Sam, Wanda, Vision, Natasha, and Bruce.

You had grand plans of making all sorts of delicious baked goods for both meals, but on top of it, you had to make an actual dinner for Christmas Eve. But you were thrilled. You loved hosting events and you were ready to hold a holiday in your own space. The boys helped you clean everything and make sure all the presents for the team were wrapped, as well as the presents for each other. You managed to wrangle Steve into assisting you with some of the cooking and decorating of the desserts. Bucky had long been banned from the kitchen because he infamously ate everything and you would end up having to make more. So he was stuck on cleaning duty and doing other minor jobs for you.

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

After a whirlwind of activity leading up to the big night, it was here. You all had discussed it and decided to get a bit dressed up, especially since Tony had decided that it was going to be a pajama dinner. So while the food was finished cooking, you got all dressed up in a dark red, sparkly, knee-length dress. You did your make-up and put on some jewelry before topping the look off with heels you knew you would take off within half an hour. Each of the boys stuck with a nice pair of jeans and a button-up. Both looked absolutely delicious. Not long after you all finished getting ready, you heard the first knock at the door.

As everyone arrived, wine and mixed drinks were served and you all gathered at the table for the meal. As they all sat, you stayed standing.

"Before we all enjoy this meal, I just wanted to say, thank you. This has been a rough year between missions gone wrong and huge fallouts. I want to say thank you for being my family when my family was being dicks. I firmly believe that family isn’t defined by blood but by love. I feel so incredibly lucky to have wonderful people like you surrounding me and trying to keep my dumbasses safe." Everyone laughed a bit, but your eyes had started tearing. "I love you guys. Thank you for accepting me into your family and for understanding that love comes in many forms. Merry Christmas." You finished, raising your glass, tears trickling down your cheeks.

Everyone chorused a 'Merry Christmas' and you sat between your boys, who both squeezed your hands and kissed your cheeks.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader x bucky #stucky x reader #stucky #christmas fluff #christmas #Domestic(ish) life #Winter Solider #winter solider x reader #captain america #captain america x reader

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91whiskeygirl · 4 years

Text

It’s 430pm, the air thick since it just rained. The sky cloudy and full of moisture. He took out his luggage from the trunk and walked over the driveway with a crooked grin on his face, his snug black shirt and jeans hugging his most firm features. Checking the time on his watch while he waited for you to be surprised at the knock on your door, how early he arrived back home unexpectedly. Jensen flew twelve hours straight just to get home to you; you’d thought he’d spend the weekend celebrating with the crew; which you didn’t mind since you still had to clean yourself up, but once you landed eyes on the tall figure behind the glass door while you walked through the foyer, you shouldn’t be surprised, after all, you’re his girl. He reminded you of that countless times.

The SPN hiatus finally begun, and you were so excited to have your boyfriend back for some well long awaited quality time.

“Jay!”, you squealed, quickly hugging him like a five year old girl that just got her first prize at the carnival.

“Hey baby girl”, he towered over you with that smirk of his, putting his luggage inside and grabbing you by the waist, your feet barely touching the floor now. Gosh he knew how to take your breath away every single time.

“Why didn’t you stay the weekend? We’re you that desperate to see me in my pizza pajama pants?”, looking up into his candy apple eyes. “Of course sweetheart, those pjs make your ass look just as juicy as it is without them”, his intense stare made you lose your train of thought for a retort as he snaked his hands around your bottom, lifting you up to where you could feel how hard he already was for you. You couldn’t help but smile ear to ear, feeling wanted wasn’t what you were used to, but with Jensen it was a perfect response.

Laying your hands on the sides of his neck you kissed his jawline and took his hand, leading him to the kitchen. You grab a couple of beers for you both. “I haven’t even had time to make dinner, I didn’t know I would have company”. He popped the cap with his keys and sat down on one of the chairs, leaning his elbows on the island while looking at you with those pretty boy lashes of his. He replied, “it’s no big deal, we can always order in.”.

A bit more of slow kisses on his lips you hopped on to his lap and hugged him tight, your chin on his shoulder. Gosh, how could you miss his scent so much? You engulfed your nose of his presence and didn’t want to let go of him, fearing he was just an illusion. You hadn’t slept well for a couple of weeks. Your job had you at overtime for a wedding gig, and because of the Thanksgiving holiday, you were booked three weeks straight. You didn’t celebrate thanksgiving, but you didn’t mind spending it with someone who loved food as much as you do. Of course, you didn’t want to admit it as much, you weren’t like most women like what “Dean” went for. but he didn’t care that you were the total opposite. You were a curvy woman, your y/h/c hair just passing your shoulders, but not tame able enough to style it how you wanted it all the time, your belly just about hugging your waist, your constant battle to finding a great pair of jeans felt inevitable. You weren’t the perfect vision in your own eyes. But when Jensen walked into your life you started to not mind your size as much. He appreciated every curve and dimple, every flaw you saw in yourself was perfection to him. “How the hell did I catch this handsome guy in my life when I look like this?” Was always your daily mantra until things got serious between you two a few months back. Now he called your home his, he even had his own closet.

You took all your strength to move away from him answering back, “How about we do some pre - feasting? We can order some fried chicken, wedges, couple of pies for dessert,and why the hell not; maybe even a salad just because I’m feeling healthy today.” Thanksgiving was never your favorite holiday, your family ruined it for everyone even though they’d host the party. You felt no better when they’d make remarks at your for how you look, going for your passion instead of being a nurse, and never settling down with whoever they approved. You moving out at 19 and taking a risk to fly to Canada randomly was a blessing in disguise. You worked your ass off with internships, most unpaid, surviving on coffee, ramen, and sriracha packets. The fact that you jumped on applying for a job while SPN was filming in the area, you never thought you’d end up with a hunk like Jensen falling for you. You giggled as he gripped your hips tighter, his chin lifting up and looking into your y/e/c eyes. “I love it when you talk pie to me”. You rolled your eyes thinking “Shut up Dean”.

He scoffed a laugh and put you down gently and headed to your bedroom, plopped his luggage down next to the foot of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He took off his shirt and instantly grimaced at how gross he felt thanks to the long flights he just made. One of his favorite places in the house was definitely the shower. He helped you out a bit since you hated the original structure of the bathroom. “I’m too fat to fit in a tub meant for a water goddess”, was what you told him, saying it lightly enough to be taken as a joke, but he knew your insecurities in and out. So he offered to get his contractor in and upgrade it. The floor was a soft rose gold marble, walls matching, a tub the size so wide and deep you could actually cover your whole body and and an extra person, gold trim accenting everywhere. A bit feminine but not enough for him to not use this masterpiece of a bathroom.

A separate shower next to it so big he caught you a few times dancing in it while you showered after coming home from work, de stressing the day away with his new album playing on your blue tooth speaker. You were so proud of him when it finally released. He’d caught you one too many times humming “All Our Own” in the house. You always sang off key but he loved hearing you no matter what. It was one of the things that showed your were content and happy.

He thought back to when you couldn’t even take a compliment on your outfit. You had just gotten the AKF hoodie in the mail and drank some coffee on set while waiting for Jared on his way to get a touch up on his hair and makeup. “Hey, loving the jacket on you y/n, you’re looking beautiful”, Jensen complimented her, keeping his stare on your face, struggling not to look anywhere else he wanted so badly to. You were just his makeup artist then. “Oh- uh thanks Jay, I’m just glad it fits...you know the sizes never seem to be a perfect fit whenever it comes to me. I actually bought a couple more in case but luckily I have friends that are way smaller than me, so I gave the ones I didn’t fit to them.” You looked down into your cup of caramel coffee, trying to avert your eyes from him. His eye contact always made your heart race, no matter what came out of his mouth. “Well,” he slowly walked inching closer to you “you’re perfect to me.” Shooting you that movie star smile he gave to fans. And that’s what did you in. A gorgeous man just told you that you were perfect without a snark comment or a snicker after finishing that sentence. THE Jensen Ackles just complimented on your appearance, and you felt the wave of confidence, standing a little straighter and fluffing your hair to the side while you drank your coffee and having your eyes twinkle up at him. Next thing you both knew, you were on your first date, and then your first make out session in the park You, Gen, and Jared used to jog in the mornings before starting work, and then everything built up to him moving in to your home.

Steam started to build up in the shower as Jensen put his head underneath the shower nozzle. Rubbing the hair product out of his hair made him feel a little less grimy. He wished you stayed with SPN before the last season finished, your expertise with lightweight products were a god send to the boys; but you got tired of the traveling back and forth with airports and cabs, sleeping in hotel rooms, you wanted to stay close to home. You started your own side business free - lancing again like the old times, but now with a reputation you were busy with every occasion you could think of. Hair and makeup gigs never came to you so fast when you landed back home.

“Dinner just got here!” You yelled from the hallway. “I’m just about done” he retorted back, washing away the last remnants of what traveling he just did. He didn’t notice you leaning on the doorway admiring him toweling off until he turned towards your way and you got a full view of him as he wrapped his towel around his waist. Your throat got dry enough where you subconsciously had a soft moan escape from you, and he noticed, smiling. Were you in trouble now.

Walking over to you with his semi wet hedgehog hair and steam coming off his shoulders from his shower, he closed any space between you two.

“I think the dinner can wait sweetheart”, he said, his hand at the back of your head and leaning down to grab a kiss from you. “Breath y/n, for fucks sake this isn’t the first time you both got heated.” Your thought ran through your brain. You hadn’t realized you closed your eyes until he released his lips from yours. You were dumb founded. It was like you were in a trance. He was so god like in every form, and you were a bumble of a mess every time he even so much as grazed you with his fingertips.

He led you to the bedroom and he threw his towel off into the laundry basket. “I want dessert first,” he already was helping you take off your shirt, your breasts hovering then dropping like heavy gum drops. You made your way to get your bottoms discarded and thrown wherever, you didn’t give a fuck, you were focused on Jensen too much to care. You sucked in your stomach like always like it was first instinct, and he noticed. You started to get tense until he started kissing you hard, his tongue teasing your bottom lip to invite him in. His arms around your back making its way down to your hips, he gently pushed you on to the bed, your back lying on all the silky pillows you had, just because it looked nice aesthetically. You always ended up only sleeping with one particular one to support your neck and back.

He starts to kiss your shoulders, then nipping his way down to your breasts. His mouth devours one side, licking and sucking, making your hips lift because of the slight pain and absolute pleasure. “Jeez Jensen I don’t know why you always go for the boobs first” you tease. “You knew from the start I was a boob guys, one of the many reasons I asked you out.”, teasing back. You bit your lips and tugged the back of his head full of hair in your hand when he started to pull your nipple gently with his teeth. Your breathing started to stutter, his hands caressing your back, your hips, your thighs. He opened up your legs and cradled your ass cheeks. His elbows supporting his position of what he was about to do next.

“Perfect as always baby,” he told you, kissing the insides of your thighs, going lower with each kiss. You gave up feeling like he would hate seeing you naked after the first few times you both messed around in the beginning of the relationship. He told you to stare at him while he devoured your pussy and for the first few times you hesitated ,but did as you were told. You locked eyes with him, but you eventually would lay back down. You were so scared of the angle of what he’d see. Instead of a flat tummy there was a mountain of a roll in the way if you ever lifted up, and your chin wasn’t your friend either. But tonight was different. He didn’t even ask and you saw his eyes locked on you while he licked you gently, then a bit harder,knowing building you up to the amazing orgasm you always have with him.

Your hips started to writhe when he started to suck your bud, and lick up whatever wetness you had, the warmth in your core creating a wave of pleasure soon. You could feel his stubble burning on your inner thighs, accepting the sensation it gave you. He moaned into you when you reached to hold his hands. How you imagined having your pussy eaten out never came to until Jensen introduced it to you, and he never skipped it when things got hot in the bedroom. He always paid attention to you first even though you were persistent at times that you wanted his cock in your mouth first. Your breathing became more shallow and erratic, the coil in you about to break, Jensen licked a bit faster but not harder, he knew it was never in the interest of a woman when you just rushed the process of her dam breaking. Your back started to arch and he dove in deeper, putting two of his fingers in you and curling it right on t your spot. You closed your eyes and placed your hands on your mouth. You realized your windows were open even though the curtains were closed, your bedroom windows faced the neighbors where your pool also was, and you didn’t need sneering looks from them in the morning when you got the newspaper. “Cum all over my mouth baby, I want to taste all of you” he said, gripping your hips now, he felt your pussy clench, dripping with wetness all over his lips and stubble. He pumped you a few more times then eagerly got above you, his cock already pleading at your tender entrance.

“Please Jay, I want you to fill me up baby”, you shined under him, your high slowly dissipating. He inches into you and you gasped at every inch he got deeper. Your body leaned into the mattress even more when he was fully seated in you. “Fuck Jensen! “ you screamed, too late for avoiding sneering looks I guess. “You’re so beautiful under me y/n, taking all of my cock inside of you, I missed you so much, I missed all of you. “ he leaned down making a mark on your left breast and then grabbing the right one with his left hand. If you thought you couldn’t cross your eyes, you probably just did. Your coil started to tighten again, and he wasn’t even thrusting in you repeatedly yet. He saw how desperate you were becoming. “You ready for me sweetheart?” He asked you softly. “Always.” Was the only thing you could answer back. With that he thrusted in one go into you, and you could feel him reaching at your g spot again. How the hell can he feel this good every time? You were baffled, every time.

“I can never get tired of this pussy y/n, you’re always so tight and warm for me. “ he grunted through. His neck and shoulders tensing, his biceps bulging when he grabs your thighs to pull them apart wider, going deeper. Your short of breath now and can only reply with whimpers, you want to let go so bad and cum on him. Feel him while you wrap tightly around him. “Jay I’m so fucking close, please!” You beg, your eyes closing tightly shut, trying to control your orgasm until Jensen is ready.

A few more thrusts and Jensen is starting to ride you unevenly, you thank the heavens he’s about done, I’m sure he’s hungry, but you’re starving, for him to fill you up to the rim and also for that fried chicken dinner waiting downstairs. He lifts your leg over his shoulder and kisses it tenderly, his hand moving from your calf to your knee, and ending up caressing your thigh, and then grabbing your ass to pull you in as he starts to fuck the lights out of you. You cry with pleasure, the coil bursting and you clench his cock, he’s not slowing down at all. “I’m gonna finish baby, you want me to cum in you? Fill you the fuck up? Have you leaking me out of you?” Gosh he knows you love dominant dirty talk. You smile wickedly and grab his hips. For a curvy woman you have the flexibility of a cheerleader. “Fill me the fuck up baby” you tell him confidently, staring into his eyes as he comes undone. He grabs the leg on his shoulder tightly, thrusting shallow as his high is coming down, and he makes his way sitting up after kissing you a bit more before pulling himself out.

“Fuck I missed you y/n”, he softly said while you were both cleaning up after the blissful session. “I missed you too Jay, you make me feel so loved and safe, you don’t expect anything less of me”. He cups your face with his hands and you gently kiss one of his wrists “Baby, You’re perfect.”. With that you smiled and kissed him deeply, his plush lips hugging yours perfectly. You took his hands and looked up at your lover. With that sparkle in your eye, you say “I love you.”

He never thought you’d say that to him. He never expected you to say it, he didn’t need it. The corners of his eyes crinkled from his smile; “I love you, y/n.” There’s butterflies in his stomach, and then, a loud gurgle of a growl came from his and yours stomach. He thought you’d be embarrassed enough to forget what awesome thing just happened between you two an hour ago and run to hide somewhere in the bathroom. Instead, you laughed loudly and snorted a bit too, his concerned face softened and he took your favorite shirt you stole from him on one of your sleepovers at his place, and dressed you. He placed a kiss on your hand , “come on , we’re both hungry after that session” you beamed a smile at him and giggled on your way out to the hallway, he smacks your ass a couple times and you jump and squeal before running to the kitchen, him running after you.

After dinner you still had room for actual dessert, the pumpkin pie and vanilla ice cream with dark chocolate shavings on top really hit the spot. You both are cuddled up on the sofa watching the fireplace crackle and warming your bodies up again. You relish the moment, Jensen’s chest going up and down slowly, knowing he fell asleep right after dessert. You turn and angle yourself where you can lie down more and place your head near his belly and on his lap, he automatically adjusts and starts playing with your hair. He rubs his eyes and sees you staring at him intently, a small grin on your face. “Whatcha smiling about now y/n?” He keeps playing with your hair. “Nothing, just that tonight was perfect, thank you for surprising me.” He replies with a kiss on your forehead as you both fall asleep from the pre -feast coma you both just gave yourselves.

**Happy Thanksgiving everyone!**

It’s a bit random but I wanted something to post for the holiday, I’m gonna try my best to do one shots for the Xmas holiday:) hope y’all enjoyed!

#spn #spnfamily #spnfandom #spn fan fiction #dean girl #jensen ackles smut #jensen x reader #jensenedit

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joemazzhello · 5 years

Text

You Matter to Me

joe mazzello x (female) reader

words: 2k

a/n: this is my first fic i’ve ever written so be nice i guess and i’m writing this because of a thought i had after seeing this (by @rogershamsandwich idk if you want to be tagged but this started with your idea) and writing out this. I hope I managed to capture Joe but again I don’t really know what I’m doing. Also I hope this isn’t too specific because it is very much based off of my fantasies but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.

disclaimer: I haven’t been to new york in ten years so I don’t remember much about broadway. I also haven’t actually seen waitress but I love the soundtrack and I know the plot. (Also I freaking love Drew Gehling as Dr Pomatter he fits the role so perfectly.) Finally, I don’t know much about Joe’s family life, so again it’s based on my imagination.

background: i love dad!joe more than anything so this is based of my continuous fantasy of married with three kids, two boys, 6 and 4, and a newborn baby girl

tags: @marshzzellow

warnings: just fluff, babies, and broadway

intro thingy: Joe knew that the one thing you always missed about living in America was Broadway. Ever since moving back home to England for your job, you hadn’t been able to see any broadway shows, and having just given birth to your third child, you and Joe struggled to even find the time to visit the West End. Now that it was time to visit Joe’s family in New York, you hoped you’d be able to see your newest musical obsession, Waitress.

With three kids, one of them being a newborn baby, traveling halfway across the world wasn’t easy. However, as you placed your bags down in Joe’s family home and watched your boys run into their grandmothers arms, you could finally heave a sigh of relief. You looked up at Joe, who came over and took your baby daughter out of your arms, giving you a peck on the lips and a huge smile while doing so. Watching your mother-in-laws face as Joe hands over your daughter, reminds you of why you go to so much trouble to fly out. Her unbridled joy lifts all the tension and worry off you for a moment as you see her holding your baby girl tight.

“Y/N, she’s so beautiful! She has your eyes.” You made your way over to her, thanking her and taking her into an embrace. “Is that a little ginger hair I see?”

“Yes, I’m afraid she takes after her father,” You answered jokingly. Beside you, Joe raises his eyebrows and fakes a shocked expression. “Is that such a bad thing?” he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Only a little,” you respond, turning your head to place a kiss on his lips.

The sun was close to setting by the time you finally managed to calm down your boys from the excitement of seeing their American side of the family. They were watching TV in the front room with their cousins, while you fed your baby girl in the room that would be you and Joe’s bedroom for the next couple of weeks. Apart from the crib in the corner, and a small vanity, a big queen sized bed took up most of the room.

“Hello gorgeous.” You raise your head to see Joe poking his around the door.

“You talking to me or her?” You ask with a smile, beckoning Joe over to sit with you on the edge of the bed.

“Hmmm,” he ponders for a second, “I’d have to say both.” He takes a seat next to you, allowing you to lean your head on his shoulder, while you both stare lovingly at your daughter. You stay like that for a moment, surrounding yourself in the calming silence, only feeling the rise and fall of Joe’s torso and hearing the sucking of the milk from the bottle.

“I have a little surprise for you,” Joe whispers in your ear. You turn your head to meet his eyes. Spotting an excited gleam in his hazelnut eyes, your mind runs over all the silly ideas Joe might have come up with. He gets up and makes his way over to his coat on the back of the chair, fumbling through the pockets.

“Joe, we can’t go to karaoke, you’ll just get too drunk and I’ll-”

“What? No, of course we can’t do that, that’s a stupid id- AH! Found it!” You can’t help but laugh as a big grin encompasses his face and he pulls an envelope out of one of his inside pockets. He quickly makes his way back over to you on the bed, plopping himself down next to you excitedly. Your eyes meet his again, his holding a lot less confusion than yours. “Here, open this.”

After placing your baby girl on the bed, you take the envelope out of his outstretched hand, keeping your eyes locked on his eager ones. “Come on, open it!” he urges. You unfold the flap on the envelope, pulling out two pieces of paper. Your eyes scan over the writing before looking up at Joe once again, your mouth slightly open and your eyes wide. His smile appears again, wicked this time, knowing what he had just done.

“I-I-I, we-, how can-, what?” You stammer, looking again at the paper in your hands.

“I know it’s tonight which adds a little pressure but those are the only tickets I could get on such short notice however my mom promised to take care of the children plus my brother and sister are here too so it really shouldn’t be any worry if they have to look after the kids for one night-” You interrupt his rambling by pulling his face towards yours and putting your lips against his.

“How did you know I wanted to see this?” You finally say, pulling away from Joe. He smiles.

“It’s almost like you’ve been talking about it for weeks and weeks, checking the website for information about the West End run every other day, and listening to the soundtrack on repeat,” he answers, raising his eyebrows at you. You feel your cheeks blush, you had been obsessing a little recently. “The car will be here in an hour and a half, I hope thats enough time for us to get ready.” He smiles at you one more time. “Don’t forget to dress fancy, we’re going to see Waitress on Broadway baby!”

The cold breeze of New York city wind hit you like a brick in contrast to the stuffy and cramped air inside the theatre created by the hundreds of people who were trying to leave at once. You shivered. You could feel Joe’s hand in your’s, pulling you out of the crowd. Looking up at him, you could see the determination in his eyes as he darted between the groups of people, trying to get you out of the masses. When you finally made it to a quieter area, the almost freezing temperature set in and you started to rub your exposed forearms to create some warmth. Noticing this, Joe quickly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders.

“I know I’ve already said it a million times tonight, but you really do look wonderful in that dress. It’s a shame my jacket covers it up.” He grabs your hand, pulling it up and twirling you around. Giggling, you lean into his arm.

“So do you. Aren’t you going to get cold?” you ask. He wraps his arm around you as you walk, pulling you in tighter.

“Just stay right there and I’ll be fine.” Gently, he places a kiss on your forehead. “So did you enjoy it?”

The time flies by as you and Joe walk hand in hand through the streets of New York, rambling about the show and the songs.

“You know, I think you could make a great Dr. Pomatter,” you suggest. His eyes open wide.

“♪ You remind me of a girl I once knew, gah by now she’s well in middle age, probably 41 or 42♪” His silly singing voice filled your ears, he knew that singing one of your favourite songs from the musical could get you to laugh.

“No, seriously, I know you can actually sing you doofus. I think you’d be really good.” You smile up at him.

“Oh I don’t know, singing isn’t really my area of expertise.” He replies, glancing down at his feet. You love how shy he gets about his real singing voice.

“Just a thought,” you say, snuggling up closer to him. A quick glance at your watch reveals it’s getting pretty late. “Joe, as much as I’m enjoying this, I think we should head back.”

“Oh shoot!” he exclaims, “I didn’t realise it was so late. Ok, I’ll call a cab.”

By the time you finally arrive back, the house is encompassed in darkness. You fumble for the spare key Joe’s mum gave you in your bag, while Joe lightly bounces next to you, trying to fend off the cold.

“Come on Y/N, we can’t stand outside forever,” he whines playfully.

“Shhhhhh, I think everyone’s asleep.” Your fingers feel the sharp metal of the key, and you quickly pull it out and place it in the lock, finally opening the door and letting you and Joe into the house. You hold the door open for him, and he leans forward and kisses you while you wipe your feet on the mat.

“Thanks for a great night,” he whispers.

“I think I should be the one thanking you. You’re the best husband I could have asked for.” You kiss him back, a little harder this time.

“Joe? Y/N? Is that you?” You turn around to see Joe’s mum appearing at the kitchen doorway. “How was the show?”

“It was incredible!” You walk over and give her a hug. “How were the kids? Did they behave?”

“They were fine. We tucked the boys into bed a few hours ago and, as usual, the baby was nothing but cute the whole time.” She smiles at you and you laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that’s usual, she’s not so cute when she won’t stop crying at three in the morning,” Joe replies jokingly. As if on cue, you start to hear a small whimper from the baby monitor in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll get her.” He pecks your lips one more time before running as quietly as he can up the stairs. You smile to yourself, gathering up your stuff before you start to follow him up.

“Are you heading to bed too?” you ask his mother, who was now heading into the front room.

“No dear, I’m going to finish watching my programme, but I’ll see you in the morning.” You say goodnight to her and head upstairs to see your little boys. The door into their room was slightly ajar, the calm light of the star nightlight bouncing softly off the walls. In each bed, your young boys were asleep, their duvets wrapped around them. You lent over each one, giving them each a kiss on the forehead and whispering goodnight. Heading back into the hallway, you close the door behind you and start towards you and Joe’s bedroom. As you get closer, you start to hear a gentle humming. Quietly, you push the door open and spot Joe in the corner cradling your baby girl.

“♪ could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes They've seen things that you never quite say, but I hear Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you And I'll stay there as long as you let me

Because you matter to me Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody You matter to me I promise you do, you, you matter too I promise you do, you see? You matter to me♪”

Joe’s delicate singing whispers through the room as you watch him rock your baby back and forth in his arms. Leaning against the doorway, you start to tear up, remembering the song from the musical and how much it means to you. You recall looking across to Joe in the theatre when they were performing this song and seeing the emotion in his eyes. In his arms, your daughter looks up at him, her blue eyes staring lovingly at your husband.

You stay there for a while, just watching him sing softly to your baby, something you hadn’t seen him do before with your sons. Joe loved to put on a crazy singing voice and scream with the boys, but moments like this, where you could hear the vulnerability in his voice and see the love in his eyes, were the truly special moments.

Going to shift your bodyweight against the doorframe, you accidentally step forward, the floorboard creaking underneath you. Joe spins around, your daughter now asleep in his arms. Your eyes catch his, a gentle smile appearing on your face. He glances down, his usual way of showing embarrassment. However this time, he sees his little girl in his arms sleeping peacefully and looks back at you, gleaming proudly.

“You sound wonderful,” you whisper as you approach him, placing your arm around his waist. You catch eyes again before pulling him into a kiss. Separating, you both look down at your baby in his arms. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping. Joe bent down to place her in the crib, kissing her softly on her forehead as he did so. He stood back up. For a moment, you stood there in silence, just watching your daughter sleep. Joe encased you in his arms, he didn’t pull away, didn’t look at your face, didn’t try to kiss you but held on tight without an ounce of selfishness. To this feeling, you were addicted.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello imagine #izzyimagines #you matter to me #waitress #musicals #dad!joe

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Natural Opposite: 9/16

The dance I invented for this chapter is probably my favorite. One, because it’s to a Nirvana song, and as a nineties teen, I LOVE Nirvana. And second, my dance background is more in this style (contemporary) than in ballroom. I hope you enjoy reading it and the way it brings Emma and Killian closer together!

Thanks to my beta @distant-rose who loved this Nirvana dance almost as much as I did. Ro, our music chats were such a fun part of doing this with you! I’m glad we have similar tastes. And my artist, @optomisticgirl girl, is so talented and perfectly captured a dance that was only in my head beautifully for this chapter. Thank you, B! She also made that gorgeous banner you see every Monday!

Chapter art:

Ch 2

Ch 4

Ch 5

Ch 6

Ch 7

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on

Ao3

Tagging: @bethacaciakay @kmomof4 @teamhook @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Nine: Heart Shaped Box

Killian grinned widely at Emma when he arrived for their rehearsal the next day. She returned it and gave him a small hug in greeting, and she couldn’t say it was just for the cameras. As much as she hated to admit it, she found herself looking forward to their rehearsals. They actually had fun together. Yeah, he still drove her crazy sometimes, but he also made her laugh. Last week, Killian had summed it up in a teasing remark.

“You know, Swan, I quite fancy you from time to time. When you’re not yelling at me.”

Henry’s observation about him “liking” her rose to mind, but she quickly pressed that down. Flirting, she had come to find out, was his autopilot. And like her sarcasm, it was largely a defense mechanism.

“Sorry we have to rehearse so early,” Killian told her, “but . . . I brought a peace offering.” He extended a styrofoam to-go cup.

“Coffee?” she asked, with a tilt of her head as she accepted the offering.

“Please, Swan, are you trying to test me? It’s hot chocolate,” he said, tapping the plastic lid teasingly, “with whipped cream and cinnamon.”

“I must say, I’m impressed,” she told him as she took a sip, “and I like the early rehearsal. It means I get to pick up Henry from school this afternoon.”

“I’m glad,” Killian replied, but then he blinked and rubbed his eyes, “although I hope the coffee I consumed on the way here kicks in soon. Filming went into the wee hours this morning.”

Emma frowned. “Be sure you’re taking care of yourself. I know this show is grueling, especially when you have other commitments.”

“I’ll try,” he promised with a weary smile, “though I go straight from six hours with you back to the studio for four more hours on green screen. I’ll be glad when the hiatus begins. If I haven’t gotten voted off by then.”

Emma waved her hand dismissively as she set her hot chocolate down beside her dance bag. “Please. We’re making it to the finale, Jones, I’m telling you.”

“Okay,” Killian said with a smile, “let’s get to work then. It’s decades week, so what decade did we get?”

“The 90s.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “The 90s.”

“Why? You don’t like the nineties?”

Killian shrugged. “Well, that depends. Are we talking flannel, angst-ridden, grunge nineties? Or boy bands, bubblegum pop, dark lipstick nineties?”

Emma laughed. “Well, don’t you know the decade well! What if I said we were dancing to ‘Heart Shaped Box’ by Nirvana?”

Killian’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Yes!” he enthused, pumping both fists.

“So Killian Jones likes angst,” she teased, “good to know.”

“Well, if you were going to make me dance to ‘MmBop,’ you may have had a mutiny on your hands.”

“Well, the cool thing about this dance is also that it’s contemporary. And believe me, angst works well with contemporary.”

Killian nodded, his face suddenly determined. “You can get really creative with this, Swan, that’s exciting.”

Emma put her hands on her hips and studied him silently for a few moments. The corner of her mouth quirked up when he almost started to squirm under her gaze.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asked.

“How would you like to choreograph this dance with me?”

Killian’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

“Sure. You’re a performer and a musician.” She winked. “And you like angst.”

He gave her a smile she had yet to see on his face. It was genuine, as if he were truly touched by her offer. “I’d be honored, Swan.”

She cleared her throat, slightly unnerved at how much she liked this new smile on him. “Well, let’s figure out the story we’re trying to tell first.”

“Well, the lyrics are pretty dark.”

“Of course they are,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes, “it’s Nirvana.”

“Aye,” Killian chuckled, “and it’s also about a relationship. One that isn’t making either person happy, yet they stay together anyway.”

Emma swallowed hard. She knew the feeling.

“The man says he has complaints, yet then he turns around and says he’s in debt to her,” Killian continued.

Emma nodded. She had already listened to the song multiple times. “He talks about her having a cord around his neck, yet he climbs right back.”

“An umbilical noose, to be precise.”

Emma wrinkled her nose, “I know, but ew! Why did grunge bands use such sick and twisted images? He talks about eating her cancer, too.”

“They were pushing the envelope. It’s what every revolutionary period in music has done.”

Emma shook her head and smiled. “I better watch out. I’m treading into your area of expertise.”

Killian scratched the spot behind his ear. “Well, this is the genre of music I first learned to play on my guitar. I told you I was a bit morose.”

Her face softened at that. She remembered too well the lonely years before Ingrid. She could see why dark music would appeal to a lonely kid.

“So we’ve got a man who feels trapped in a relationship,” Emma replied, switching topics back to brainstorming for the routine.

“Hence the heart shaped box.”

“But I like what you said,” Emma continued, “about neither of them being happy. I think that should be our story. We’re a couple who aren’t good for each other, but we stay together anyway –“

“ – because we’re afraid of being alone,” Killian finished for her.

Emma smiled and then gave him a gentle slap on the shoulder. “You were right, Jones, we do make quite the team.”

“Or maybe,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “this topic strikes a little too close to home for both of us. Loneliness.”

Emma blinked and took a step back. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. Her hands clenched and unclenched as her mind tried to come up with a response.

Killian gave her his trademark crooked grin and quirked brow. “I mean, who wouldn’t crave loneliness when you’ve got cameras recording your every move?”

A slow smile spread across Emma’s face. “Right. Okay, Jones, let’s figure out the first eight counts.”

**********************************************************

It was the day of the show, and Emma and Killian sat on a dingy sofa set up on the dance floor hand in hand, waiting to be announced. Around them, the set department had created a living room in a rundown apartment circa 1995. Killian was dressed in faded jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt (of course). Emma wore black leggings and a plaid shirt, unbuttoned and tied at her waist. Underneath it she wore a black sequined bra top.

“You know,” Killian teased, fingering the tied ends of her shirt, “I don’t recall black sequined bras being a fashion statement in the nineties.”

“Well, not all of us are old enough to remember the nineties, old man,” Emma teased back.

“You wound me, Swan! I’m only thirty-five!”

Emma just laughed and rolled her eyes at his mock-offended expression. Behind them, the video package played of their rehearsal week. Just as she had expected, it opened with Killian finding her backstage last week after their Tangled routine. The expression on his face, which she hadn’t seen for herself at the time, was tender as he put his arms around her. It also showed their hug when he brought her coffee, and Killian tucking her hair behind her ear. They also played up the emotional portions of their choreography, showing embraces in super slow-motion. Emma rolled her eyes. It was ridiculous the way they were playing it all up like some sort of romantic comedy.

“Dancing a contemporary routine,” boomed the announcer, “Killian Jones and his partner Emma.”

She wished there were a commercial break so she would have a little more time to put the video package out of her mind. Killian gave her hand a squeeze, and she nodded, pressing her lips together. He relinquished her hand, and they both stared blankly forward as the lights came up and the music started.

The music producers were using a recording of the actual song performed by Nirvana. The live band just couldn’t capture the dissonance or the gravely sound of Kurt Cobain’s voice. She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak. Cobain’s broody voice filled the room as Emma and Killian slid off the couch and onto the floor. For the remainder of the dance, they pushed and pulled on one another, neither of them able to stray very far from the couch, which of course symbolized their toxic relationship. They used the couch often, beating it with their fists, jumping on and off it, falling and sliding from it. Then the dance ended as it had begun, both of them sitting, staring blankly forward. The overhead lights dimmed as other lights flickered in front of them, meant to look like a television playing.

When the music faded out and all the lights came up, Killian leapt up in excitement. Emma, however, felt herself suddenly drained of emotion. If Killian hadn’t pulled her to her feet and embraced her, she may have kept right on sitting there. She felt as if her heart had just been exposed. She blinked as Killian cupped her head, whispering in her ear how “brilliant, bloody amazing,” she was. Somehow, that snapped her out of her daze. She thought about the woman in the song and her heart shaped box. She took a deep breath, and stuffed her own heart back inside of hers.

As Killian led her over to Marco so they could face the judges, her limbs once again cooperated, and she plastered her “performance smile” on her face. She really was proud of Killian. Not only the way he just danced that, but his creativity in helping her with the choreography. She put her arm around him and squeezed him around the waist. They both struggled to breath; the routine had been intense and the movement had never really stopped.

So it took them a minute to register that all three judges were on their feet, clapping. Emma blinked; even Blue seemed moved almost to tears. They all sat and Emma gnawed nervously on her lower lip as Teach began.

“That was artistry, pure and simple. I’ll be straight with you Jones, I didn’t think you would cut it on this show. I wanted to hate you. But that? That was dancing. Amazing dancing. Well done!”

Emma gave Killian a happy little shove, and he beamed down at her with a huge smile on his sweaty face.

Tiana was literally crying and struggled to begin her critique. “That is what dance is supposed to be. I can’t believe you’re the same dancer you were three weeks ago. Remember when I said you weren’t opening up? Well, you took what I said to heart, and you have grown remarkably. And Emma? That choreography was genius. You deserve an Emmy for that.”

Emma was shocked when Killian pressed a kiss to her cheek, nodding vigorously in agreement. Emma grabbed Marco’s microphone.

“I do want to remind everyone that Killian helped me with the choreography, so thank you Tiana, but I have to give this guy credit too.”

Killian pulled her closer and pressed another kiss to the top of her head as the audience cheered. Once it died down a little, Blue gave her review.

“Look, I’m a traditionalist. I like to see ballroom and strictly ballroom. However, you danced that full out, and you were completely in sync with your partner throughout. Not my cup of tea, but I’m impressed.”

Since the decade week dances were performed in chronological order, and they had been assigned the nineties, their routine was the last one of the night. That meant no time for an interview with Ashley, and the judges gave them their scores right there on the dance floor.

“Tiana Sabine,” the announcer intoned dramatically.

Tiana seemed to pause an inordinately long amount of time before revealing her paddle. But when she did, she did so with flourish. “TEN!”

The studio audience went wild with excitement! The first ten of the season! Killian whooped and picked Emma up off her feet in a tight hug. Once everyone settled down, Blue gave her score of nine and Teach, amazingly, also gave them a perfect ten. It was the highest score of the season so far.

There was no time for an interview with either Marco or Ashley. Emma was relieved, worried she may have had to field questions about the very misleading implications of their video package. The couples all lined up, and for the first time, Emma was nervous about the double elimination. However, she didn’t have to worry. Gold and Ruby were voted off, to no one’s surprise, and then David and his Disney channel star Violet. The second one was a surprise, and the fifteen year old sobbed with disappointment. Emma was glad for the distraction as everyone surrounded the poor girl to console her. She still felt a little emotionally raw after that dance. And maybe it was the way the video package had been edited, but was Killian giving her an awful lot of casual affection recently?

According to social media, he was. By the next morning the two of them were the number one trending “couple” on both twitter and tumblr. Emma blushed as she read through the comments.

“Anyone else out there shipping Killian Jones with his dancing partner?” - @killianjonesandfairydust

“OMG! I ship it so hard!” - @neverland4evr

“Did you see the PDA last night? That was a lot of hugs and kisses!” - @hookNtink4life

They even had a shipping name: Captain Swan. And surprisingly, there were no longer any threats upon her life. She wasn’t sure where the Killer Rose shippers had gone, but there was only one remotely threatening theme among Killian’s “hookers.”

“She better not break his heart.” - @yeahiamahooker

But the only heart Emma was worried about was her own.

#2018 csbb #csbb #cs ff #modern au #dancing with the stars au #enemies to friends to lovers #natural opposite #searchingwardrobes

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vikingpoteto · 7 years

Link

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Summary: Katsuki needs to deal with the fact that he's in love with his best friend sooner or later and he knows that. Needless to say, this is not Katsuki's area of expertise.

Word count: 10458

This is my fanfic for the @bnhasummerexchange, a gift to @shipeo

Bakugou Katsuki realizes he’s in love at the worst possible moment.

Not that, in Katsuki’s not so humble opinion, there is ever a good moment to realize you have feelings. Romance was never a priority in his life and he can count on the fingers of one of his hands the times in which he hooked up with strangers just for the sake of experimenting – couldn’t have people going around he was inexperienced or some shit – just to decide that it wasn’t for him. Girls, guys, whoever that is in between… Katsuki has better things to do with his time.

Or at least that what he thinks until that very moment.

It isn’t a particularly romantic moment. Kirishima is too drunk to function, let alone stand on his feet, and Katsuki grunts and curses under his weight as he carries him on his back in the dark of the night. The streets are not completely empty, as it’s expected from a night in Tokyo, and the pollution makes it impossible to see any stars. Katsuki can swear the people passing by are judging them, even though all of them avert their eyes when Katsuki glares back. He guesses the sight of an angry looking teenager giving a piggyback ride to a semi-unconscious red haired boy must look pretty suspicious.

Kirishima doesn’t look particularly attractive either. His hair is stupid enough as it is and it doesn’t look any better when half of it is oddly deflated and sticky with soda. His clothes are disheveled and his cheeks have uneven blotches of red, certainly caused by the uncanny amount of alcohol consumed.

It is definitely not a scene you’d see in a love story, that’s for sure.

And yet.

“You’re a fucking burden, you know that?” Katsuki grunts, as another lady crosses the street to avoid them. He’s thankful they’re quickly leaving downtown behind and wandering into the part of the town where people are indoors and asleep. “I should have left your sorry fucking ass passed out on the floor.”

“Butcha didn’t!” Kirishima slurs and his breath tickles against Katsuki’s bare neck.

Katsuki shivers. “Don’t fucking test me, Kirishima, I can still drop you.”

“Nooooo…” And he starts swinging his legs back and forth, making notoriously more difficult for Katsuki to hold him in place.

“You fu- You piece of shit, I’m going to drop you for real!”

“So ya’ were just saying before?” Kirishima giggles.

Katsuki ignores him and just tries to walk faster, mumbling a string of curses under his breath. Kirishima giggles some more, as if Katsuki’s annoyance is nothing to worry about and that only makes him angrier. He considers actually letting Kirishima fall on the sidewalk and just leaving him there, but he just adjusts his grip so Kirishima won’t slide off instead.

They’re finally in the correct neighborhood and there isn’t anyone else to sideeye them anymore. Katsuki feels almost relieved.

“Hmmm… Bakugou?” Kirishima calls after a while. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“No.”

“Bakugoooou!”

“You’re probably going to regret it when you’re sober and I don’t want to know, so what’s the point?”

“Bakugooooooooooooooooooou !”

“ Fucking fine! What is it?”

Kirishima wiggles a little and leans in until his lips touch Katsuki’s earlobe, causing him to stop to a halt and hold his breath. Then, Kirishima whispers, “ you touching my butt. ”

At that, Katsuki does let go of Kirishima. Sue him. He was never known for being patient and he sure as hell wasn’t fit for a babysitter.

Kirishima, as intoxicated as he is, is probably expecting that, because he yelps and tightens the grip of his arms around Katsuki’s neck. Kirishima does go down, but he drags Katsuki backwards with him and huffs under the weight of his friend as the two boys lie on the sidewalk in an undignified pile of limbs.

“ You fucking assrag piece of shit motherfucking fuck !” Katsuki roars, trying to untangle himself from Kirishima.

And the asshole is still laughing, despite having both arms now wrapped around his stomach as if it got hurt on the fall. Katsuki secretly wishes he broke a rib or two as he rolls to the dirty sidewalk and turns to glare at Kirishima.

“I should kick your fucking ass,” Katsuki snarls.

From the ground, Kirishima turns to him, a wide smile on his face and his eyes looking dazed and intoxicated. He doesn’t look scared or worried. Instead, he looks as though he thinks murderous Katsuki is a sight for sore eyes and he wouldn’t want to see anyone else in the world.

“Not if I kick your ass,” Kirishima says affectionately.

That is not at all something romantic to say.

It is not, but Katsuki purses his lips and the only thoughts in his mind are something on the lines of fuck, I love him.

Katsuki hates this and he hates himself for thinking something so absurd in a moment like this. He’d like to get up and run home, to physically run from his feelings and forget this ever happened.

He can’t do that right now, however, because Kirishima is already curling up like a cat as if he fully intends on sleeping on the sidewalk.

“Oh, no. Nononono, you’re not pulling that now, you dick. On your feet.”

Katsuki stands and roughly pulls Kirishima up by his wrist, winning a pained groan in response. Kirishima stumbles and Katsuki hooks his arm around his own shoulders to offer support.

“C’mon, my house is just around the corner,” Katsuki says.

Kirishima whines and complains as Katsuki drags him along, trying his hardest to ignore how fast his heart is beating.

This is just Kirishima, he tells himself. There is nothing different.

It feels different, however and he’s on the verge of a meltdown when they finally reach his house and he has to put Kirishima down for a couple of moments as he scrambles with his keys.

“Bakugou, you’re sooooo strooooong…” Kirishima slurs as he is pulled to his feet once again.

“Shut,” Katsuki says, “the hell up. I should have left you to die at Kaminari’s. I should have taken you home so your moms would kill you instead.”

Kirishima giggles into Katsuki’s shoulder and his drunken slurs almost drown a soft voice that comes from inside the house:

“Katsuki?”

Katsuki’s stomach drops. His father comes from the living room with a bemused expression and his eyes are quick to fall on Kirishima’s not-just-a-little-tispy face. Katsuki tightens his arm around Kirishima’s waist, cursing in his head, because as much as he threatened Kirishima on the way here, he never really intended to rat him out.

“Dad, what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went to grab a night snack. Is Eijirou okay?”

Katsuki tries desperately to make Kirishima stand straight, but he’s pretty sure Kirishima is falling asleep on his shoulder.

“He’s fine, he’s just… tired or some shit.”

It sounds stupid and fake and Katsuki doesn’t know what to do about it. He isn’t used to giving excuses or anything like that. He doesn’t know how to lie , especially to his parents.

Bakugou Masaru might look mild, but his mind is sharp enough. He isn’t fooled by his son’s lame attempt at lying for even a second, his lips pressing in a tight line. Katsuki mirrors his expression and waits.

“Take him to your bedroom before your mom wakes up. We’re going to talk about this in the morning, Katsuki.”

With a relieved sigh, Katsuki nods and heads to his bedroom. Kirishima lets himself be dragged along. Once they’re inside, Katsuki lets out a relieved breath. He doesn’t let Kirishima take the bed and all but kicks him to a guest futon – the bed is big enough for the two of them and they have shared it more than once, but doing it right now feels weird to say the least. Besides, Kirishima stinks of alcohol, no matter how much he whines that Katsuki is being mean.

Katsuki doesn’t sleep after that.

Katsuki should have seen this coming.

Kirishima carved his way into Katsuki’s life without asking for permission and refusing to be refused. He made a place for himself always pushing just enough, but never crossing the line and, before Katsuki realized it, Kirishima was already a constant in his life.

He brought others with him, of course, because guys like Kirishima are never alone. That’s how Katsuki ended up taking Kaminari and Ashido and Sero and a whole lot of others that come and go although they wouldn’t be tolerated normally.

He wouldn’t tolerate them normally… if it wasn’t for Kirishima.

(And if Katsuki came to care for them later… Well, that’s a whole different story. And it’s not that he cares, for startarters it’s just that he got used to having them around and they’re kind of his now.)

Kirishima can get away with almost anything because he’s Kirishima. Katsuki should have paid attention to the signs.

To the way he didn’t mind when Kirishima leaned against him when they were studying together. To how he enjoyed just looking at Kirishima’s dumb face from the very beginning. To the small clutch in his chest when Kirishima smiled at him. To the rush of pleasure when Kirishima made him laugh and then gazed at him with affection in his eyes.

Katsuki is a smart kid, he really is. If the idea of falling in love wasn’t so absurd, he would have realized.

When Katsuki gives up on pretending to be asleep, it’s almost eight in the morning. He gets up and glares at Kirishima, who’s still fast asleep and snoring lightly. Katsuki wants to kick him – how dare him? – but he ignores the urge and makes his way to the kitchen.

For the second time in less than 24 hours, he almost has a heart attack when he finds his father waiting for him.

“Good morning, son,” Masaru says.

Katsuki scowls and grunts something impossible to understand in response. “Where’s mum?”

“Left for work already,” Masaru replies calmly, but there is censure in his eyes. He knows why his son doesn’t want his mother around right now. “Katsuki, about last night… Eijirou was drunk.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki grunts and drops on one of the stools by the counter, defeated. “He was.”

“What about you?”

“Oh my fucking God! You know I don’t drink!”

“Well, your mother and I trust you, you know that, but we know that friends can be…”

“I did not drink any fucking alcohol,” Katsuki cuts him off enunciating every word clearly. “I wouldn’t do that. And Kirishima is not a bad influence. He doesn’t usually drink either, I don’t know how he got that shitfaced.”

“You don’t know?” Masaru frowns. “I thought you went to the party together.”

“We did, but I met Uraraka and she challenged me. We ended up competing the whole night.”

“Uraraka… That’s the girl you made that history project with? A really lovely young lady with brown hair?”

“Round face, yeah.”

“What kind of competition are we talking, Katsuki?”

Katsuki glares at his father. In the Bakugou family, they have the habit of holding staring contests in which they communicate without saying words. A special ability they developed through the years to decrease the amount of shouting in the house – especially because Masaru never shouts and Katsuki and his mom always end up feeling silly. Katsuki asks with his eyes if his father is being serious right now. Silently, Masaru arches his eyebrows as if telling Katsuki to let him be a parent.

“It was a video game competition, dad. And then some physical challenges. We did bet who could drink more soda, at some point.”

Katsuki thought they both would go floating by the end of the last completion before they got interrupted.

“It seems like you had a lot of fun.” Masaru’s eyes sparkle behind his glasses, as if he’s trying his best to remain a serious parent and not laugh. “Who won?”

“It was a pain in the ass, actually. And no one. We were tied when Kaminari came asking me to go help Kirishima.”

“Right. About that…you said you don’t know why he got that drunk. Is it really unusual? I know you want to protect your friend, but if this is serious, I should talk to Mrs. Kirishima and…”

“No! I mean, I told you he doesn’t usually do that. No need to tell his mothers.”

Masaru twists his lips as if he’s not satisfied and Katsuki twists his hands on his lap under the counter, nervously waiting.

“Fine,” Masaru says finally. “But if I find out about something like this again, I am going to snitch. ”

“Don’t use that freaking word ever again.”

“Only if you buy my silence by making pancakes.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes and heads to the cabinets to get the ingredients he needs.

I know you’re protecting your friend, Masaru had said. Katsuki feels pathetic, because that’s exactly what he’s doing. He should have left Kirishima dealing with the consequences of his idiotic actions alone at Kaminari’s. He should have sent Kirishima home in an Uber or something. But he didn’t want Kirishima to get in trouble, so he brought him to his own house instead and personally put him to bed. He ignored the fact that it could get himself in trouble. He didn’t even think about what would be done of his reputation if someone saw him carrying a drunk person around or about how his mother would skin them both if she found out. He just thought about Kirishima.

Katsuki wouldn’t have done that for just anyone. Katsuki had never put someone else’s needs above his own.

He has to do something about this.

As he prepares the pancakes with more enthusiasm than usual, loudly clicking the spoon against the bowl, he begrudgingly admits to himself he doesn’t know what to do in this situation. He never thought he’d be in this position.

Katsuki prides himself in never asking for help – he is pretty self-sufficient, thank you very much – but this time… Well, he might need a second opinion. He tries to swallow his pride and calmly consider his options, since his go-to person is Kirishima and there’s no way he’ll ask his crush how to deal with a crush. Kaminari and Ashido would make fun of him, so neither of them are options. Sero is asexual and aromantic, so he probably doesn’t know what to do either.

God, he has the most useless friends in the world.

Across the table, his father pours himself another cup of coffee, making the pleasant scent fill the kitchen and drawing Katsuki’s attention to himself.

Katsuki blinks. His father… he has experience with romantic relationships, doesn’t he? And, unlike his mother, Katsuki’s father is very likely to stop pushing the subject as soon as Katsuki draws the line.

He hesitates for a second, but… well. It’s not like he has a choice. The earlier he deals with this, the better. It’s a physical effort to make the words come out, and he speaks to the pancakes he’s preparing instead of looking at Masaru.

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Mom asked you out, right?”

“Oh?” Masaru grins. “You always beg us to shut up when we try to tell you that story. Is there something you want to tell me, Katsuki?”

Katsuki makes a disgusted noise, already regretful. “Never mind, forget I asked.”

“No, no, it’s all right, let me tell you.” Masaru’s eyes spark with excitement. “She didn’t ask me out. We had been co-workers for a while and I guess it was obvious how much I cared for her. So she didn’t ask anything… She did ask me if I was free and then told me we were going out on a date. I knew then she was the one.”

“ Eugh , gross, stop talking, I don’t want to fucking know-”

“You asked, though!”

“I regret it, I’m never touching that subject ever again.”

Katsuki decides he’ll figure out a way out of this mess on his own. He doesn’t know why he thought asking his dad about his relationship with Katsuki’s mom was a good idea. It’s not like he wants to marry Kirishima.

…

Oh God.

Oh God, no, someone please take that picture out of his head, erase the horrible, horrible picture. He’s 17, for crying out loud, he does not want any embarrassing ideas lurking in his brain.

“Why did you, then?” Masaru asks.

Distracted, Katsuki glares at him. “What?”

“Why did you ask about me and your mom, if the subject bothers you so much?”

Katsuki doesn’t really believe in regret, but on that moment he wants to scream and run away of the situation he got himself into. He knows how sharp and observant his father is. He knows it, and yet…

“Nothing! I mean… I don’t- Fuck I don’t know, I was just making small fucking talk or some shit.”

“Oho? Could it be that you want advice? Does this have something to do with the young lady you spent yesterday’s party with?”

Uraraka is the last person in Katsuki’s mind, so it takes him a few seconds to understand what his father means by that – that Katsuki is considering asking out that pancake faced girl – and he only has time to make a disgusted face – as if he would ever date one of Deku’s closest friends! – before a loud thump interrupts their conversation.

“Oh, I… s-sorry,” Kirishima mumbles. “I, huh, still half-asleep, I guess.”

He crouches down to pick up the plastic bowl he knocked down on his way inside the kitchen, his face flushing bright red.

“Don’t worry about it, Eijirou. Come join us and have some pancakes,” Masaru says. “You don’t look so hot. Do you need some water? Medicine?”

Katsuki glares at his father. Stop jabbing at him for getting drunk, we talked about this, he wants to say. Masaru raises an eyebrow, as though saying he’s just trying to be nice. Katsuki doesn’t believe the innocent look for even a second.

“Oh, n-no, Mr. Bakugou, I’m fine, thank you. I...”

Katsuki sighs heavily. “Sit down, Kirishima, I’ll get your food.”

“Wha- No, Bakugou, you don’t have to, I’ve imposed...” but he shuts up when Katsuki glares at him. “I mean… Breakfast sounds great.”

Katsuki nods, satisfied. Kirishima isn’t afraid of him and he knows that, but apparently Kirishima feels guilty enough to obey Katsuki’s orders without questioning. Katsuki pours him a glass of water as a prize before he starts piling pancakes for Kirishima on a plate.

He feel his father’s eyes following the interaction, probably noticing how Katsuki would not take care of just any hungover bastard. Probably thinking that it isn’t Uraraka the reason Katsuki was asking stupid questions earlier. Regardless, his father is sensible enough to not make any further comment, so Katsuki stores that, as well, for later inspection.

Katsuki takes school very seriously. He’s not happy unless his grades are the better because he aim high for his future and he won’t rest if he’s not the absolute best. He always pays attention to class, even if that means kicking Ashido’s or Kaminari’s chairs so they shut up. The only class in which he relaxes a little bit is P.E.

Just a little.

While the teacher rambles and points at the small board she brought to the gym to explain the types of muscles Katsuki has already seen in his biology book, he sits on the back of the gym. Ashido and Sero join him not much later, equally uninterested in the class.

Ashido leans against Katsuki and he lets her, because she’s brought with her a bag of his favorite spicy chips and she shares them with him when the teacher is not looking.

“Is any of this even necessary?” She asks. “This is physical education. We should be doing something physical.”

Katsuki agrees, so he says nothing. Sero snorts.

“Does that mean you want to get physical? Physical ?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Katsuki kicks him as Ashido laughs. “How old are you, tape face?”

“Will you let go of that nickname? That tape thing happened two years ago!”

Again Katsuki pretends not to hear as Ashido wheezes and then chokes on her chips. He takes the bag from her hands while Sero hits her back with enthusiasm.

Katsuki lets Ashido and Sero do their thing, telling himself to at least pretend he’s paying attention to this stupid class. His eyes, however, seem to have other plans, for they insistently spot a certain red head in the crowd of students.

If at least Kirishima’s hair wasn’t so damn flashy!

Katsuki has been trying to forget about this useless infatuation – he refuses to think of the L-word after that unfortunate night – but it’s not the easiest task. Not when Kirishima is right there by his side all the fucking time.

And it’s not like he didn’t look at Kirishima before, because he’s pretty sure he did. All the time. It’s just that looking at Kirishima has gained a new meaning since the last Saturday night. Now, when they exchange glances during class, Katsuki’s stomach does an interesting somersault. When he looks at a crowd and Kirishima’s face is the first one he recognizes, his heart skips a beat.

It’s so freaking stupid.

And Kirishima has no fucking idea. He sits there, with that loser Fuckfuck McFuck or whatever freakish name that dumbass has. He doesn’t look back at Bakugou, but Bakugou sees the way he’s grinning at something his idiotic friend has said. He doesn’t need to look at Bakugou, because he’s a stupid ass softie that can and will care about anyone and everyone. Kirishima seems to have taken as his personal mission to try and befriend every single student and he’s succeeding, managing to befriend even the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

Now that Katsuki thinks about it, all of his friends – Kaminari, Ashido, Sero… All of the losers he tolerates – started hanging out with him because he was with Kirishima all the damn time. (Uraraka doesn’t count, because she’s a rival, not a friend.)

In a moment of weakness, Katsuki wishes he had more people to occupy his mind – as Kirishima does – so he wouldn’t have to feel this aching pain in his gut while Kirishima was away. He bites his lower lip at the absurdity of the thought, because he has other stuff to think about. He has his goals and dreams. The friends he already has are a handful as it is.

Kirishima looks back and his eyes meet Katsuki’s for one split second before he turns his stare to the teacher. Kirishima can go die in a hole for all Katsuki cares. He and his dumb friends.

A finger pokes on his cheek and he turns to glare at Ashido. Her huge eyes are way too close.

“Are you okay, blasty?”

He slaps her hand away. “No. This class is boring as fuck.”

“I get it.” Ashido nods solemnly and leans against Bakugou’s arm again, her eyes turned to the teacher. He’s way too used to her touchy-feeliness to be bothered to shove her away. “If at least Kiri was here with us… We could play a game. Two against two.”

“Eh. Leave him be,” Sero says. “P.E. is the only time he gets to spend with Tetsutetsu. And we don’t want to hang out with the two of them at the same time. We’d have a testosterone overdose.”

Ashido laughs. “Hey, doesn’t his name sound like an… an…Bakugou, what do we call a word that is actually a sound?”

Months ago, Katsuki wouldn’t know what the fuck she means. But now he’s spent enough time at group study sessions to learn how to translate Ashido’s dumb questions.

“Onomatopoeia,” he says.

“Right. I was gonna say centipede. But hey, doesn’t Tetsutetsu sound like an onomatopoeia for electronic music?”

Sero grins. “What, like tuntz tuntz ?”

“Yeah! Except that it goes tetsu-tetsu-tetsu-tetsu.”

Bakugou leans forward so Ashido falls. She yelps indignantly.

“Fucking shut up!” He hisses. “The class might be dumb, but some of us care about grades, loser.”

“Fine, Captain Grumpy-pants,” she says with a pout and turns to lean against Sero instead.

Katsuki misses her warm weight, which is almost as dumb as caring about Kirishima spending time with losers with onomatopoeias as names. Not that he c ares , it’s just annoying that he’s there losing his shit because of Kirishima and the fucker is right over there, having fun with someone Katsuki hates. The fucker.

“Now, let’s get some asses moving!” The teacher yells, clapping her hands loudly to wake up the disperse class. Her red lips stretch into an evil grin. “It’s dodgeball time!”

A lot of students groan, some look absolutely horrified, but Katsuki sneers and jumps to his feet to stretch. Ashido whoops excitedly.

“Ashido, Sero, you’re the captains. I want everyone stretching as they choose the teams.”

“I want Kirishima,” Sero yells immediately.

Of course he does. Kirishima may not be the fastest player, but he’s strong and he’s the first to be chosen every damn time.

“That’s how you want to play, huh?” Ashido grins. “Then I want Bakugou.”

“I get Midoriya, then.”

Several students look at the teacher, waiting for her to interfere. She doesn’t. She knows that having Deku and Katsuki in opposite teams usually results in them forgetting about the others and focusing on each other until one of them falls, but, judging by the way she smirks, she thinks the idea is funny.

After that, Ashido gets Uraraka, the ponytail chick and Kaminari. Katsuki is annoyed that she’s going for her closest friends rather than strongest players, but he guesses Uraraka and Kaminari are not that bad. Besides, he knows that teams won’t matter when the ball start rolling. He’s going to be the last one standing anyway.

Sero gets the kid with the glasses, two-faces, the emo kid that’s obsessed with birds and everything is alright until he calls that name.

“Tetsutetsu,” Sero says.

Tetsutetsu grins as he joins the team. Katsuki sees red when he and Kirishima bump fists. Katsuki decides he has a better target than Deku, for once.

The teacher walks among them, correcting their forms as they stretch. She compliments Katsuki’s flexibility, as always, but for once it doesn’t matter. He’s staring at the way Kirishima is trying to help Tetsutetsu. Both of them are as stiff as a pair of rocks – shouldn’t similar people repel each other or whatever? – but they laugh together, as if their incapacities are hilarious instead of pathetic. Katsuki is disgusted.

“Let’s go get ‘em!” Ashido shouts to her teammates.

Everyone stays out of Bakugou’s way when he grabs a ball and waits for the start of the game. On the other side of the gym, Kirishima is right by Tetsutetsu’s side and he leans in to whisper something into his ear, making Katsuki hold the ball hard enough to deform it.

The whistle had barely touched the teacher’s lips when Katsuki launches the ball with the force of a comet straight at Tetsutetsu’s face. The fact that it hits him hard on the nose and bounces right at Kirishima’s own nose makes the most spectacular double kill even for Katsuki’s standards and it also sets a new record for how fast he was pulled out of a game.

Which, you know, it’s all Kirishima’s fault, if you think about it.

That girl with the long hair in a side ponytail and another loser from class B help Tetsutetsu to the infirmary, but that is nothing compared to the small army that tries to escort Kirishima, including, but not limited to, Ashido, Kaminari, Sero, Deku, Uraraka and the square glasses guy. Kirishima is always bitching about how he’s just a regular guy with no real attractive traits, but he’s really damn popular. Katsuki, on the other hand, doesn’t move a muscle to help or to apologize.

Kirishima and Tetsutetsu look even more like the freakish separated at birth twins they are with identic bloody noses. Except that Katsuki hates one of them to the moon and back and kinda want to smooch the other.

(Right now he totally hates both, though.)

(And he isn’t feeling guilty, he’s not. This is all Kirishima’s fault.)

However, as he watches Kirishima walking out of the gym under the concerned looks of all of his classmates, Katsuki can’t help but to think about how different they are. If Katsuki got himself a bloody nose – not that he’d be stupid enough to get one, but hypothetically speaking – there wouldn’t be anyone trying to escort him to the infirmary besides Kirishima himself.

He wouldn’t want that, of course, he can handle himself, and he’s never wanted stupid friends to get in his way and distract him from his goals to begin with, it’s just that makes him think that him and Kirishima are in complete opposite sides of a spectrum. How the hell did they end up being friends, anyway? It’s not that surprising that Katsuki ended up falling for him, since there must be a ton of people thirsting after Kirishima, but how come Kirishima stays with Bakugou? They’re too different, too unmatched.

Katsuki watches Kirishima go and he knows he’s just heading to the infirmary, but it feels a lot more dramatic than that. As if Kirishima’s walking away from Katsuki specifically – and after Katsuki hurt him, no less – and Katsuki can’t help but to think this is the way it’s supposed to be.

“Blasty?”

He blinks, startled to find Ashido by his side. When did she left the game?

She eyes him, squinting as if she’s trying to see his face better. “I thought something was up, but it might have been just my imagination,” she says. “But now I can see that something is up.”

“The fuck you’re talking about, freak?”

“You,” she says, all serious. “Are you okay, Bakugou?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You just don’t look okay.”

“Go mind your own stupid business.”

Usually insulting her does the trick and, for a moment, it seems like it works, for she pouts and makes as if she’s going to get up and find a seat somewhere else. However, she stops and squints at his face for a moment more. Whatever she sees does not please her and she looks disappointed.

“All right. I’ll mind my own stupid business,” she says.

Katsuki feels a lump in his throat, which is absurd, because he w ants her to go away in the same way he wants his dumb feelings for Kirishima to go away. He doesn’t want to long for something unachievable. He doesn’t want Ashido to stay and he wants less to want her to stay . He presses his lips into a tight line and looks at the game instead.

“I’m gonna stay here, though.” Ashido scoots closer and leans against him like she did earlier. Her familiar weight feels good as she rests her head on his shoulder. “It’s a free country and your muscles are nice. You can’t deny me that.”

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. He adjusts so he can almost lean back against her. He feels when she smiles in satisfaction and he ignores the insistent ache in his gut.

Katsuki is trying to focus on his homework when there is a soft knock on the door. He frowns, confused. His father is at work and his mother never bothers knocking - instead, she likes to barge in into his room as if she’s expecting to find him cheating on her with other parents.

“What?” Katsuki asks, bemused.

The person that waltz in isn’t his mother, however. It’s Kirishima.

Katsuki jumps to his feet, startled. “What are you doing here?”

Kirishima’s smile falters at Katsuki’s lack of manners and he cocks an eyebrow up in confusion. “Today is Thursday…?”

Right. Fuck. Every Thursday they meet so Katsuki can tutor Kirishima. After everything that happened, Katsuki completely forgot about it.

“You forgot?”

“No. Grab your stuff. With your grades, you can’t afford to skip a single day of tutoring.”

“Rude,” Kirishima mumbles, as he takes a seat on the floor next to Bakugou’s bed.

Following his cue, Katsuki transfer his notebooks and books to the floor and sits by Kirishima’s side. He’d done this several times before. There is no need for him to make a big deal out of it.

“I want to review Aizawa-sensei’s stuff,” Kirishima says, taking the books out of his bag. “He’s a great teacher and stuff, but I never remember what he says.”

Katsuki eyes Kirishima as he rambles. Kirishima’s nose is a little swollen and he’s wearing a bandaid over a small cut on the bridge. Bakugou threw the ball that hurt him. Meanwhile Kirishima doesn’t make any comments about it and continues to talk about what he didn’t understand in class earlier, as if it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Katsuki was angry at Kirishima as well as Tetsutetsu, so he wasn’t supposed to feel guilty.

Except that he does.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, interrupting Kirishima’s ramble.

“About what?” Kirishima gives him a puzzled look.

“Your face. I hit you earlier. I’m…” He can’t force himself to say it again. His cheeks are already burning. “I didn’t mean to almost break your nose.”

Kirishima smiles sweetly. He shouldn’t be allowed to look this adorable. Not with his stupid pointy hair and his stupid bandaid and the even stupider broken nose.

Except.

“Ahaha you’re feeling bad about that? Don’t sweat it, dude, these things are bound to happen when you’re playing dodgeball.”

“I aimed at you and your stupid friend,” Katsuki says, because hey. He might feel bad that Kirishima got hurt, but his aim is flawless. He won’t let Kirishima think it was an accident.

“I figured.” Kirishima rolls his eyes. “Tetsu and I are strong, of course you’d want to eliminate us first. Otherwise we’d have crushed you.”

“You fucking wish, dumbass.”

Kirishima nudges him lightly, still smiling. “Are you going to teach me or not?”

It’s Katsuki’s turn to rolls his eyes. He opens his own book and asks Kirishima to tell him what he can’t understand.

It’s comfortable. It’s easy. Being alone with Kirishima feels just as right as being on his own. Katsuki can relax and be at ease, because there is nothing to prove. Kirishima already knows who he is and understands him better than anyone else. If Katsuki thinks about it, that might be the reason Katsuki fell for him, to begin with.

That and the fact that Kirishima is the embodiment of everything nice.

Katsuki likes to think of himself as undefeatable most of the time. But perhaps Kirishima has defeated Katsuki. Perhaps Kirishima is the one person Katsuki wouldn’t mind losing to. In the romantic regard, at least.

And maybe that’s the solution, after all. Katsuki lost. Now all that there is left for him is to accept the defeat like a man and move on. He couldn’t help falling in love with Kirishima, so he might as well learn how to live with those feelings.

It aches. It feels like he’s running in the dark at the edge of a paradise he can never truly be a part of. He used to see Kirishima as his equal, never aware of when the power shifted so that Kirishima would be the one in control. Begrudgingly, Katsuki acknowledges that it isn’t Kirishima’s fault. Kirishima didn’t make Katsuki fall in love on purpose. So Katsuki will embrace the inconvenient, whatever that means and learn how to live with it.

The option would be pushing Kirishima away and that’s something Katsuki does not want. He’ll adjust. He’ll grow. Katsuki is nothing if not resourceful and a fast learner. He’ll make it work.

He focus on the task at hand, and starts drawing a mind map on his own notebook, telling Kirishima to copy when he’s done. He explains the connections as he does it, keeping his eyes trained on the paper. Being close to Kirishima might be distracting, but he’s stronger than that. He’s…Still a little weak.

He betrays himself by taking a furtive glance at Kirishima and his heart skips a beat. He loses his train of thought. He usually would be better at this, but the way Kirishima is looking at him - his eyes gentle and dreamy, his lips softly curled up in a smile so sweet it shouldn’t suit Kirishima’s sharp, manly face, but it does. When Kirishima looks at him like that, it’s easy to forget they’re not equals anymore. That Kirishima isn’t was in deep as Katsuki.

Kirishima is so unfairly beautiful that it makes Katsuki angry. He doesn’t have to pretend to be annoyed when he glares at him.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?”

“I am!” Kirishima protests.

“Yeah? Then what was I saying?”

“Huh…”

“How the fuck do you plan on learning anything?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…! When you’re teaching you look so… so…” Kirishima’s cheeks dust with red. “I mean, you- you looks so calm and cool, I couldn’t help but stare.”

“What the fuck? I’m calm all the time, you turd!”

“Ah, yes, there is the Bakugou I know and love.”

“What was that? Is that how you talk to the guy helping you with your homework?”

“Noooo…!”

Katsuki attacks him and their casual banter turns into casual roughhousing that turns into an actual wrestling match with a lot of screaming and rolling around that doesn’t end until Katsuki’s mother barges into the room yelling at them to keep it down.

Once high school started, Katsuki stopped enjoying summer vacation. He liked studying and, since he was too old to go around running catching bugs, there were very few fun things to do. On that year, he both welcomed and dreaded summer.

The good thing was that he wouldn’t see Kirishima everyday and that was part of his training. His journey to learn how to live with this crush would be meaningless if he didn’t know how to be away from Kirishima.

The bad thing was that he wouldn’t see Kirishima everyday and he missed him like crazy.

How stupid is that?

He’s lazing around the house and playing with his phone between his fingers, pretending he isn’t thinking about calling Kirishima. He toys with the idea of calling Kaminari or Ashido instead, but he doesn’t want that either. He’s pissed off that none of them is calling him instead.

He almost drops the phone when it starts ringing.

“Shit- what?” He snarls as he picks up the call.

“ Seriously? That’s how you answer your phone? ” A familiar voice asks.

Katsuki groans. Uraraka.

“The fuck you want, round face?”

“ Some manners. But since that’s asking too much of you, I want your company. ”

“What? You drunk or something?”

“ No ,” she laughs softly. “ Dad got tickets for a movie next Friday, but he can’t go, so he gave them to me. Watching a movie on my own is no fun. Do you want to go with me?”

Katsuki frowns. “The fuck? Why would you ask me? Ask one of your friends.”

“ Tsuyu-chan and Iida-kun already have plans. And Deku-kun is scared. Actually… most of my friends aren’t big fans of horror movies, but I thought you might like it. ”

“Deku is scared? What a loser.”

Uraraka ignores that. “ So. The movie should be fun. It has zombies and guns and it seems fun. Friday. 3 o’clock. Yes or no?”

Katsuki considers that. Uraraka might be a pain in the ass, but they still have a competition to settle from that fatidic party. And watching a shitty horror movie sure beats lying on his back and thinking of Kirishima. He welcomes the diversion.

“Fine,” he sighs. “But this movie better not suck.”

“Great! I’ll text you the details later. Since I’m bringing the tickets, you buy the popcorn! See you!”

And she hangs up before Katsuki can protest.

When Katsuki and Uraraka walk out of the movie theater, their bags of popcorn barely touched at all, both are painfully silent.

“That…” Uraraka tries, but her voice breaks. She clears her throat. “That was intense.”

Katsuki grunts something in response, still trying to absorb whatever the hell they just watched. Weren’t zombie movies supposed to be badly done and gorey and overall funny? What the hell were those realistic effects? And how come those actors were so fucking good at their jobs? Just… What the fuck?

At some point, Uraraka grabbed his hand and, honestly, Katsuki just let her. Whatever to be sure the person next to him was warm and alive and all that shit. They might have screamed more than once.

“Let’s… let’s never speak of that movie again, okay?” Uraraka says.

Katsuki grunts again.

“Hey, wanna go to the arcade? I feel like I owe you after dragging you to… that. ”

“You fucking owe me, alright, that movie sucked balls,” Katsuki says, but his voice breaks just as much as Uraraka’s. “Whatever. We still have a bet to settle, so let’s go.”

She probably just want to replace the memories of what they just saw with new memories. So does Katsuki, and that’s why he accepts without complaining.

As they walk to the arcade at the end of the block, Uraraka starts talking about this game she discovered on the other day when she was out with Hagakure and how the game will be perfect for the epic conclusion of their competition when something else grabs Katsuki’s attention: a familiar red head just ahead of them. He stops listening to Uraraka as soon as he recognizes Kirishima at one of the outside tables of the cafe where their classmates usually meet. In front of Kirishima, with a stern expression, Kaminari appears to be talking about a very serious matter.

“I’m sure it’s not like that with her, man,” Kaminari is saying. “You’re the only one that…” His eyes meet Katsuki’s and he stops talking suddenly. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Kirishima turns around as well and his face turns very pale at the sight of his friends.

“Kirishima-kun! Kaminari-kun!” Uraraka calls, smiling and waving. “What a coincidence!”

“H-hey,” Kirishima says. “What are you two doing here?”

“Oh, we were just…” She frowns, probably stupidly thinking of her promise to never speak of the movie again. “Just hanging out. We were going to the arcade. Do you want to come along?”

“Hanging out?” Kirishima asks. “Just the two of you?”

Katsuki glares at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. He’d expect that reaction of his other classmates, that seem to think Katsuki is some sort of sociopath, but Kirishima should know better.

“We were just watching a dumb movie,” Katsuki says, raising his chin as if daring Kaminari and Kirishima to point something wrong with it.

“ Bakugoooou… ” Uraraka complains. “Let’s not talk about that moooviiiee… ”

Kirishima stands. “I forgot. I have something to do at home, I’m… I’m gonna go.”

“Shoot,” Kaminari mutters. “Wait, Kirishima, I’ll come with you, I…” He gives Uraraka and Katsuki another concerned look. “See you guys around. Kirishima, wait up, man !”

And he darts after Kirishima without another word, leaving Uraraka and Katsuki staring as they rush out of sight.

“Well, that was weird,” Uraraka says. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Fuck if I know.” Katsuki snarls. “Let’s go to the fucking arcade or whatever.”

“Would it kill you to not say a bad word every other sentence?”

Katsuki ignores her and hurries her to get to the stupid arcade again, because the sooner they’re done with this, the better. He wishes he never left home in the first place.

He is not hurt, though.

(He is not.)

On that night, Kirishima calls him. Katsuki stares at his phone screen for a moment without picking up, remembering how earlier he wished to see that name blinking at him on the small screen. Now he wants to toss it across the room.

He doesn’t. For once, because he had broken a cellphone before in a fit of rage a couple of years earlier and his mother almost killed him. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to try again. For seconds, as annoyed as he is - annoyed, not hurt - he still wants to hear Kirishima’s voice. Perhaps to find out that this afternoon was just a misunderstanding.

Because Katsuki kind of likes the fact that he is intimidating. However it annoys him to death when people mistake his fierceness for evilness . He is ruthless, alright, but he’s no villain. A lot of students side eye him and spread dumb rumors because of his rivalry with Uraraka, which is two times rude. Uraraka is no weakling - or else Katsuki wouldn’t consider her a rival of sorts - and Katsuki is not the sociopath people paint him as. And he can deal with losers like Monoma talking shit about him - he can shut them up, no problem - but to think Kirishima would…

Katsuki picks up the phone.

“ Hey man, ” Kirishima says, not as cheerfully as usual. “ What’s up? ”

“You called,” says Katsuki dryly. “You tell me.”

“Nothing much, I was just… bored. So I called. Yeah.”

“I thought you were gonna be super busy. Considering how you left running because you had shit to do.”

“Yeah. About that… I just suddenly remembered some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“You know… stuff.”

Katsuki purses his lips. They stay silent for a while, which makes Katsuki even angrier. Since when did Kirishima beat around the bush like that? One of Kirishima’s biggest qualities is that he’s always honest. What is up with that?

“You got a fucking problem?” Katsuki blurts.

Kirishima doesn’t answer immediately. “Why would I have a problem? What there is to have a problem with?”

“I don’t fucking know, that’s why I’m asking!”

“Well… maybe don’t ask stupid questions, then!”

Katsuki gasps. “Did you seriously just call me for no fucking reason and then you say I’m the one talking stupid shit?”

“Well, I’m sorry! You should call Uraraka-san, then, she’s probably more fun to talk to than me!”

“She fucking is, and that’s saying something, because she’s annoying as fuck!”

“Your face is annoying as fuck!”

“WELL, FUCK YOU THEN!

“FINE!”

And he hangs up. Katsuki tosses the phone to the side and buries his face in a pillow to scream.

Katsuki doesn’t hear from Kirishima after that. He refuses to check his phone - he should never have let himself be distracted by Uraraka’s antics or Kirishima's stupidity in the first place - and he decides to focus on studying instead. University entrance exams are coming soon and he doesn’t want to fail just because his friend decided to be an ass.

That doesn’t mean vacation sucks any less. Weeks stretch like centuries and every hot day feels like forever.

Lying on his bed and ignoring the pile of school books he tried to distract himself with and tossed away, Katsuki lies to himself. He’s not pissed off that Kirishima hasn’t called him again to apologize. He doesn’t want Kirishima’s stupid apology. Kirishima can go choke on a dick and die.

(Katsuki needs to bury his face in a pillow and scream some more after that particular train of thought.)

Katsuki stops for a moment and just stares blankly at the ceiling.

What is he doing?

“Katsuki!” His mother yells from downstairs. “Your friend is here.”

Kirishima .

Katsuki tries to get up too fast and his leg gets tangled with the blanket. With an impressive string of curses, he falls face first on the carpet.

“Oh my God, don’t move, I gotta get that on camera,” says Ashido from the door.

Katsuki glares at her and maybe he looks scary enough dangling upside down from his bed, because the vicious look is enough to stop her from fishing her phone from her pocket. Despite that, she sighs, looking more tired than frightened.

“You look upset,” she tells him as she closes the door behind her.

Katsuki struggles to get up. “The hell you’re doing here?”

“Wanted to check on you. Why aren’t you and Kirishima talking to each other?”

He blinks once. Twice. Ashido sits by his side on the bed, unconcerned about the fact that they’re alone in Katsuki’s room with the door closed, and she waits patiently as he digests her words. When he finally finds his voice, the words stumble their way outside in a mess of indignant stammering.

“I didn’t- I’m just not- He is the one- Did Kirishima tell you he’s not talking to me?”

“More or less.”

“Well, fuck him! I’m the one that’s not talking to him! That son of a- Screw him! He’s the one that called me to fucking insult me and- ”

“Kirishima insulted you?” Ashido asks. “Kirishima Eijirou? Red haired, pointy teeth, muscular arms… Are we talking about the same guy? I’m pretty sure he’d never do that.”

“He got all sensitive because he saw me with Uraraka, like I’m some sort of big bad wolf and she’s a defenseless victim and not the one that made me go out to watch that shitty movie, that sucked by the way.”

“Oh,” Ashido says. “Kirishima reacted badly because he saw you with Ochaco? And you think the reason is that he thought you were forcing Ochaco or something?”

Katsuki glares at her. “Why else would he act like that?”

Ashido rests her hands together as if she’s about to pray and purses her lips in a tight line. She seems speechless for a couple of seconds.

“Honey, you should go see Kirishima and clarify that. I’m sure he doesn’t think you’d do anything bad to Ochaco.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with him?”

“It’s not my place to say,” she says as though it pains her. It probably does, considering how awful she is at keeping secrets. “Just go see Kirishima. Please?”

“Fuck no! He’s the one that should come see me.”

Ashido sighs. “I’m sure he would have come already if he wasn’t sick.”

There’s a beat. “ What?”

“Don’t freak out! It’s not that serious. It was a common flu, but it got worse and he had to be hospitalized and- Bakugou! I told you not to freak out!”

But Katsuki is already on his feet, cursing because he can’t find his shoes. Ashido tries picking a jacket for him, but he has to throw the one she chooses back at her face because it doesn’t match his clothes at all. He only stops to ask Ashido where Kirishima is. She tells him, mumbles something about ungrateful children and lets Katsuki go out jacketless.

“Don’t go catching a cold too! Be responsible!” She yells as he rushes out.

“ Katsuki ! Where the hell are you going?” His mother demands when he all but runs past her.

He doesn’t slow down, trusting Ashido to tell his mother where he’s going. Considering that Mitsuki loves Kirishima more than her own son, she’s likely to not get too angry.

What am I doing? Katsuki wonders. He decides that, at least for now, it doesn’t matter. He has to find Kirishima first him. And then kill him for getting sick.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

When Ashido said that Kirishima has been hospitalized, Katsuki imagined him lying on a bed with a lot of blankets, one of his mothers crying by his bedside while the other angrily demanded the doctors to do something. Perhaps he’d find Kirishima’s sisters outside, quietly comforting each other.

What he doesn’t expect is to find Kirishima fairly well. His hair isn’t spiked as usual, but pulled into a loose ponytail. His nose is red and he’s pale faced, there’s an IV in his arm. Other than that, he seems perfectly fine, sitting comfortably on the hospital bed and eating an apple, so he looks like even more of an asshole. Kirishima’s relatives are nowhere to be seen, but Todoroki is there, for some reason.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima says, wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“Ashido said you were sick.” Katsuki barks. “ And what is Cruella De Vil doing here?”

“Dude, don’t call him that!”

“I came to visit my mother and Midoriya told me Kirishima was here, so I thought I should check on him,” Todoroki says without inflection.

“I’m fine, by the way.” Kirishima sniffles. “It’s just that my flu turned into a pneumonia, but I’m almost healed by now.”

Katsuki gapes, mouthing the word “pneumonia” silently.

Todoroki stands and straighten his coat.

“Well, Kirishima, since you have company now, I think I should leave,” he says. “Get well, soon.”

Kirishima grins. “Thanks, man. It was nice of you to stop by.”

Todoroki’s lips seem to turn upwards just slightly before he heads to the door. He gives Katsuki a questioning look as he leaves, but, for once, it doesn’t matter that it’s Todoroki. There is no way Katsuki can get pissed off at Icy Hot when Kirishima is right there playing with his apple as if isn’t recovering from freaking pneumonia and he didn’t bother letting Katsuki know.

“God fucking damnit, Kirishima!” Katsuki barks as soon as they’re alone.

Kirishima has the audacity to look confused. “What?”

“I had to hear from fucking Ashido that you had pneumonia! What the fuck?”

“What, was I supposed to tell you that I was sick or something?”

Katsuki takes a step back, speechless for what it feels the hundredth time today. He isn’t sure of what expression he’s making, but whatever it is, it makes Kirishima pull a face.

“Wait, no. I’m sorry,” Kirishima says. “That was mean and I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. It just… I was really feverish, okay? On the first days, at least. And then… I’m sorry. I guess… I didn’t think you’d care.”

I shouldn’t care. This is pointless.

How could I not care? It’s you .

Again Katsuki can’t think of anything to say. He opens and closes his mouth and he doesn’t think there is a curse word bad enough to express what he feels.

Kirishima tries to stand up and he must be weaker than he looks, because his knees almost give in. Katsuki rushes to his side and catches him before he can actually fall.

“Dumbass,” Katsuki scolds. “Get back to bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima pleads, ignoring Katsuki’s scowl. “I phrased that wrong, it’s not that I didn’t think you’d care, I just… I don’t know, I didn’t want… to… see you?”

Katsuki glares at him.

“You know what? I’m not saying anything right. Maybe it’s the medicine or I still have a fever or… whatever.”

“Dumbass,” Katsuki repeats, softer this time, as he makes Kirishima sit down again.

Kirishima eyes him for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Katsuki stares back, a silent question hanging between them. Kirishima hesitates for another moment and bites his lip.

“No, I gotta be honest, I… Actually, my mom wanted to call you. She said it was weird that you hadn’t come see me and when I told her you didn’t know, she wanted to call you, but I told her not to.” Kirishima blurts the words as if he’s afraid Katsuki will interrupt him. “I was upset because… Well, last time we talked. And I’m sorry for that. I was being irrational and… Look, if you’re going out with Uraraka-san, I have to support you, I mean, I’m your best friend, I just have to… to… come to terms with… it.”

In order to get Kirishima back to bed, Katsuki had held him by the shoulders and he has yet to pull away. He doesn’t, though, frozen in place for several reasons. First, the fact that, even though he’s sweaty and has bags under his eyes, Kirishima looks as handsome as ever. Second, the apology Katsuki has been waiting for weeks is finally here and Katsuki can barely understand the words. Third, what the hell is Kirishima even saying?

Finally, there is nothing Katsuki can do besides saying softly, but with a lot of feeling: “Kirishima, what the ever loving fuck .”

“What? I’m trying to be a good friend, man.”

“What are you even talking about? I’m not going out with Uraraka!”

“Well, maybe not yet, but you like her, don’t you?”

“Don’t be gross! Of course I don’t!”

“What?”

“What!”

They face each other. Katsuki’s hands are still conspicuously on Kirishima’s shoulders, but neither of them try to change that.

“But… but you were with her… you were watching a movie and… At Kaminari’s party you were with her all the time and-”

“Of fucking course I was. You were busy with your annoying friends, so there weren’t a lot of bearable people around.”

“I… I honestly thought she was your girlfriend by now.”

“Fuck no! She’s my rival.”

“I thought Midoriya was your rival.”

“Fucking Deku got nothing on Uraraka, Kirishima, everyone knows that!”

Kirishima groans and buries his face in his hands. There isn’t a lot of space between then, so he crown of his head ends up resting on Katsuki’s chest, just slightly. Katsuki feels as if the proximity will set him on fire. Unrelated to Kirishima’s possible fever.

“God, I’m so… I totally overthought everything. I’m three times as sorry now.”

“Wait, you were angry because you thought I was going out with pancake face?”

“Well, not angry, I was… upset, just…” He shyly looks up and Katsuki can see his cheeks are dusted with red. Again, this might not have anything to do with the fever. “I guess I was a little jealous, alright? Ugh, this is so unmanly… I’m sorry, you probably don’t understand. I was being selfish.”

Katsuki stares at him, in shock. Jealous, he said. Katsuki suddenly understands Ashido’s frustration earlier.

He’s almost ashamed of how slow he was.

“I do,” he interrupts.

“Huh… You do what?”

“I do understand,” he says.

Katsuki needs to swallow hard and take a deep breath before he says his next words, but how can he not? Kirishima is the bravest person he knows for baring his feelings like that. There is no way he can lose. If someone as manly as Kirishima can just admit that like that, hell, so can Katsuki. He lifts one hand to cup Kirishima’s cheek and make sure they’re looking into each other’s eyes when he admits:

“You didn’t need to be jealous, though. I thought it was fucking obvious that she was no match for you, anyway.”

Kirishima stares blankly at him for the longest moment and his eyes go doe wide when he finally understands.

“Bakugou, you… you…” Kirishima stumbles on his words, blushing furiously. “You can’t just say that! I’m still weak, damn it!”

Katsuki smirks. How could have Katsuki not seen this before? It’s Kirishima, after all.

He sees the hesitation turning into determination in Kirishima’s eyes as he starts to lean in. If this is payback for Katsuki’s teasing… Well, he’ll gladly take it.

The door slides open. Katsuki jumps back as if Kirishima had electrocuted him.

Todoroki is back.

“Kirishima, I forgot my phone,” he announces in his insufferable monotone voice. He eyes the distance between Katsuki and Kirishima and Kirishima’s crimson face. Silence stretches. “Have I interrupted something?”

I hate you with every molecule of my being and I hope you get run over a hundred of times by a train.

“No,” Kirishima croaks, “isn’t that your phone over there, Todoroki?”

“Oh, you’re right.”

Katsuki makes a disgusted noise and turns to the door.

“Wait, where are you going, Bakugou?” Kirishima asks.

“Home! I don’t want to catch your germs,” he says without looking back. (He feels his face burning up and, if he’s blushing, he sure as hell doesn’t want Kirishima to see it.) “Now that I saw you’re alive, there is no point in staying.”

“You suck!” Kirishima complains.

“Whatever. And Kirishima?” Katsuki glances back, just enough to see his face. “Enough of that avoiding bullshit. Put your phone to use and fucking text me. I don’t want to have to come all the way here just to talk to you.”

And he leaves before Kirishima says anything. He has to find somewhere private and a pillow to scream into.

Despite Katsuki’s words, he pretty much spends the rest of his summer at the hospital. Kirishima’s mothers seem very relieved to see him there. When the doctor comes check on Kirishima, one of them pulls Katsuki aside and insists on buying him a coffee.

“I’m glad you’re here, Katsuki-kun,” she says. “Eijirou is happier since you two started talking again.”

Katsuki grunts something. She chuckles.

“I’m glad you two aren’t fighting anymore.”

“It won’t happen again,” he says to his coffee.

“Oh? Is that right? In that case… Please, take good care of Eijirou, Katsuki-kun.”

“Hm. I will.”

Her next smile is too knowing, but luckily Kirishima starts waving at them from the bedroom, certainly complaining that they left him alone with the nurse, effectively interrupting the conversation.

Apparently, Kirishima is getting out finally and the doctor asks to talk to his mother while Katsuki and him gather his stuff.

“Fucking finally,” Katsuki says as he closes Kirishima’s backpack.

“Word,” Kirishima sighs. “I can’t believe summer is almost over. I didn’t do anything! I still have homework and and I haven’t went out since that day with Kaminari! God, I gotta call Ashido.”

“Oi, dipshit, you better not schedule anything for Sunday.”

Kirishima looks confused as Bakugou swings his backpack onto his own shoulder instead of giving it to him.

“Why? Is there something on Sunday?”

This time, Katsuki doesn’t hesitate. “I’m taking you on our first date, of course.”

He watches with satisfaction as Kirishima gradually blushes with his entire body.

“Wh-what?”

“You got a problem with it?” He asks.

There is still a part of him that is afraid of the answer. As great as he is… Well, this is Kirishima, after all. Katsuki still isn’t quite sure about what Kirishima saw in him. However, he keeps remembering he has to be brave about this no matter what. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but fuck him if he isn’t figuring it out in the hard way.

“N-no, I don’t have a problem,” Kirishima mumbles.

And then he smiles. A sweet, shy smile that makes Katsuki’s heart flutter. He has to turn around to hide the fact that he’s holding back his own stupid sweet smile.

Kirishima walks to his side and holds his hand, probably trying to show that he isn’t losing either.

Katsuki intertwines their fingers as they wait for Kirishima, because, at least for once, this is a competition he has no hurry to win.

#kiribaku #bakushima #bnha #bnha fanfic #poteto writing

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