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merakiui · 9 months

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*eyes open* corruption kink with crime bosses octatrio

shy, soft, naive and innocent darling gets their attention so they kidnap her. over time, they break her in to be the perfect submissive and breedable pet wife. every day she's tied to the bed while they rail her, and put a pussy plug in her weeping hole, lick anything that drips out despite her whimpers and squirming.

darling is such a simple minded and submissive prize, it's hard not showing her off. after all, that's all she's good for, to be a pretty arm candy for the 3 of them. they don't give her any clothes, she's always naked, and they trained her well so she doesn't complain. they don't let her leave the house, and when she does go to business meetings with them, her pussy, ass and mouth are cockwarming them. or she's sitting on the floor next to them, naked with a collar around her neck. a pretty pet wife good for nothing else except for breeding and showing off. on those meetings, azul sometimes lets other crime bosses, leona, malleus, vil, riddle, idia and kamil, use his pet wife as a cumdump. and if it helps him make a contract, he's not complaining. even if she's sniffling and whimpering at being exposed to and passed around to so many hungry eyes and cocks, her pussy eventually utterly destroyed.

since octatrio have broken her in, and they fuck her boneless literally every day, darling, along with losing her mind, is unable to do anything for herself. it doesn't help that they talk down to her like she's incapable of doing anything for herself. but she comes to believe what they're saying over time. then jade is the one who bathes her, his hands focusing on certain areas more than they should so he ends up fucking her against the bathroom wall. if she's thirsty, she has to get down on her knees and suck floyd off while he's petting her hair and cooing at how cute she looks all naked kneeling on the floor, mouth stuffed with cock and pretty eyes full of tears. azul is the one who feeds her, she's on his lap, pussy cockwarming him, while he gently strokes her hair and coos about what a needy, wanton little thing she is.

when she's bad, they tie her up in the middle of their mansion, all naked with a vibrator in her pussy all day so that anyone can see her. she feels humiliated even if the staff doesn't bat an eye her way, already being used to seeing her naked.

it's worse for her when the trio have days off, she's guaranteed to be fucked silly on every single surface in the mansion. she could be walking in the house, and floyd suddenly pins her to the wall and fucks her against it.

but honestly, what was she expecting? walking around the house naked, perky tits bouncing with each step, pretty pink pussy on display to anyone even with the plug inside her.

there's just something about the 3 of them turning an innocent, pure, naive, soft and wide-eyed darling into someone forced to rely on them and quite literally fucking all disobedience out of her.

OTL anon, this is so good…… omg and you’ve been with them so long, enduring this sort of treatment, that you can’t even remember what your life was like before them or what sort of hobbies you enjoyed or what it’s like to interact normally with others or even what it felt like to be properly dressed. At most, they dress you in lingerie, but it’s always so skimpy and you never feel covered. And you’re so used to being bent over and fucked dumb that when one of the staff talk to you (if they’re daring enough) you expect them to use you as well. >_<

They’ve molded you into a submissive, sex-brained wife who never thinks of anything outside of that. Escape never even crosses your mind most days, and even if it did it’s quickly fucked out of you by one (or all three) of them. You used to fight with what little courage you had, but they’re terrifying crime bosses, smart and strong at levels you couldn’t even compare to. :( it’s only natural you’d eventually be worn down into a shell of yourself, hollowed of everything that made you you and in its place you’re filled to the brim with cum and cock. It also doesn’t help that you’ve developed such horrible separation anxiety, so when Azul tells you you’ll be spending an evening with another crime boss for the sake of a signature on his contract you panic and beg him not to send you away. Anything but that. Azul’s a comforting familiarity; this new man isn’t. You’re so scared and teary-eyed, pleading desperately at his feet. You’re really testing Azul’s restraint; you’re so pretty when you’re sniffling and crying. If not for his contracts, he’d take you right here and now just to see more of your cute face streaked with tears. :)

It’s scary to be in an unfamiliar room with an equally unfamiliar man. Depending on who you’re with, things can go either smoothly or roughly. Riddle’s the third sweetest of them. He’s stern and strict, but he hates to see you cry. He pats your back and shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He may be a crime boss himself, but he functions under lots of hyper-specific rules—rules the trio seem to forgo when dealing with you. Riddle asks if this is what you really want; you can speak for yourself in front of him. He won’t tell Azul. Though he seems sincere, you can’t bring yourself to trust him… it breaks Riddle’s heart when he’s fucking you and you ask him why he isn’t roughing you up. Oh, you poor thing. Sweetness isn’t the same as pain, yet you can’t seem to distinguish the two.

Leona is rough around the edges, but even he knows how to treat a lady. Crime boss or not, he knows very well that you ought to be respected. It’s a shame you’re stuck with that sleazy octo-punk who thinks it right to subject you to humiliation. Although Leona’s just as bad; he’s been given an opportunity here. Do you really think he’s going to sit around and talk cheesy with you? Absolutely not. >:( he’s here to get his dick wet. Why else would he ever willingly sign one of Azul’s contracts? You’re lucky you’re such a tempting herbivore. He’ll give you a fuck better than any of those slimy sea creatures ever could. :)

Kalim is the second sweetest of them. He cares immensely for you. You have to wonder how and why he’s even a crime boss. There doesn’t seem to be a bad bone in his body. Kalim comforts you so wonderfully. He won’t fuck you until you’ve stopped crying and pleading for Azul and you have to promise him to smile. You have nothing to fear here. He’ll take care of you in Azul’s place. Just think of him as a friend! He won’t hurt you. Kalim is so genuine about everything he says that it’s a stark, surprising contrast to the trio. Sex with him feels like a dream because he doesn’t degrade you or choke you near passing out. It’s not dangerous. It’s soft and passionate, yet somehow you feel unfulfilled afterwards. Maybe it’s because he’s not Azul…

Vil is strict like Riddle, but in completely different ways. He can’t believe Azul’s making you walk around naked. At the very least, you deserve equally pretty attire! If you were with him, you’d be given the finest of satins and silks. Vil’s almost offended Azul doesn’t take the opportunity to drape you in all manner of explicit finery. At the very least, he can appreciate the pretty pussy plug you wear. That has some semblance of beauty. But Vil can’t deny that Azul’s trained you well. Even though you’re scared and weeping, you spread your legs so obediently. It’s very cute. Vil supposes he can avoid scrutinizing you for now. It’s much better to shamelessly indulge than it is to be stuck criticizing.

You think Idia might be more scared of you than you are of him. He’s so jumpy and he can’t seem to look at you properly. Is this his first time in front of a naked woman? You wonder why he’s even here. But you recall he and Azul are business partners who often collaborate on certain endeavors. Somehow you don’t feel as nervous as you did before. Maybe it’s because Idia’s reflecting your anxiety and that manages to put you at ease. Though you’ve only ever known how to be submissive, it’s you who ends up taking the lead—at least until Idia familiarizes himself with your body. After that, you’re an incoherent mess. Idia doesn’t look like it, but he has stamina. Maybe it’s just the power of the horny. T-T

Malleus is by far the nicest of them all. He looks intimidating and scary, but he’s so gentle. He lies you down on the bed and spends more time kissing and reassuring you than actually fucking you. And he spends time preparing you! He’s much bigger than you’d imagined, so you’re grateful he’s going to these lengths. You were nervous before, but now you feel so calm and safe with him. <3 Malleus doesn’t intend to scare you, and he greatly dislikes seeing you cry and mourn. You seem to forget all about Azul and the twins when you’re with Malleus, and it’s a night that feels like such a comforting dream—a reprieve from all that usually happens with Azul.

But despite that, no matter which crime boss you’re handed off to, you’re still relieved to be returned to Azul. No matter how sweet they were to you, they still aren’t Azul and your separation anxiety makes you cling to him and the twins. Azul doesn’t like to bully you; he should know what separation anxiety feels like because he can’t stand to be away from you for more than a day. The twins, on the other hand, love to push you to breaking, disappearing for extended periods of time just so you’ll drive yourself mad with worry and anxiety. And when they do return to you you’re desperate to have them in bed. It’s cute how dependent and needy you’ve become. You really can’t exist without any of them, can you?

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #yandere twst #i should add that crime boss vil dresses you as a french maid if you work for him hehe

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rillils · 2 years

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OK BUT THOR JUST ADORING BUCKY IN A BROTHERLY WAY AND BEING VERY TOUCHY IN LIKE A FRIEND WAY BECAUSE HES LIKE THAT AND STEVE, OBLIVIOUS AND VERY JEALOUS STEVE, IS JUST VERY VERY JEALOUS

yes, that would be it

NONNIE, MY BEAUTS, I FUDGING LOVE YOU 💕🥰💕🥰💕 you know, this ask made me grin like an idiot, and then I spent hours thinking about it, and then one thing led to another and it spawned this... thing? it's all kinda jumbled and unrefined, and I didn't give it a re-read so um. but yeah, you can find most of my ramblings under the cut :3

imagine if this is before the boys become a thing – they’ve been dancing around each other for the better part of a century, forever stuck in this relationship limbo because they are two big pining dumdums, with a history of trauma longer than the Nile and a deeply ingrained tendency to not talk about their feelings, and they’re hopelessly in love with each other, and also just. kinda hopeless in general. desperate to finally Make This Happen, but kind of at a loss as to how to do it.

after all, there never seemed to be a good time for this, right? they never seemed to have enough leisure and peace of mind to give this thing, this really important thing, the proper space.

but now, you know. now Bucky’s out of cryo, and their enemies are far away. there are no new wars in sight (shhh infinity war never happened), and most importantly, life in Wakanda has given Bucky the chance to find some peace, to rest, to take the first few steps of his journey towards recovery. so Steve figures, maybe. maybe for once the timing’s just right, and he can do what he’s been wanting to do since all his clothes were two sizes too big and his shoulders fit under Bucky’s arm as if the shape of him had been cut out of Bucky’s side. he can tell Bucky, and find out if Bucky feels the same way after all.

ENTER THOR.

and Thor, you see, he befriends Bucky as quickly and as naturally as he does everybody else.

Thor with the boisterous laugh of a godling in his prime and the eyes of an ancient soul; Thor who’s supposed to be the god of thunder, and yet beams as bright and warm as the sun.

Thor, who finds true enjoyment in making people feel good about themselves, and he’s always calling Bucky handsome, complimenting the progress of his beard, teaching him how to braid his hair the Asgardian way, patiently and eagerly, just like he was taught when he was a boy.

Thor is genuinely impressed by Bucky’s knife skills, the flipping and the throwing and the twirling – he himself was always more about power and momentum, rather than stealth and agility – but his brother, he tells Bucky with unsuspected fondness, his brother would find kinship in Bucky’s knack for sharp blades.

Thor never tiptoes around Bucky – on the contrary, he’s quick to sling an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, to slam his huge hand between Bucky’s shoulder blades with enough strength to generate a minor earthquake and make Bucky’s bones rattle like so many pebbles in a box.

Thor, who is a literal god and has the body show it, who’s battle-worn and fierce and still finds the time to pick wildflowers to bring as a gift for Bucky’s home, who owns two goats with super badass names (which then turn out to be the equivalent of Toothgap and Chews-a-lot), who could easily tuck Bucky under his arm and take him for a spin through the clouds with his magical hammer

and he’s gorgeous, and loyal, and generous, and a king amongst his people, and it would be so fucking easy to fall head over heels for someone like him

and then there’s Steve, who had only just managed to talk himself into confessing his feelings to the love of his life

and suddenly it’s like Thor is always there, and his hands seem to be on Bucky at all times – on Bucky’s arm, at his back, in his hair to weave it into lovely plaits – and Steve loves Thor, he does, but these days he also feels the occasional urge to bite Thor’s fingers off one by one

he’s jealous. he’s so fucking jealous it hurts. maybe he doesn’t even realize it at first, but then he recognizes it – this ugly feeling eating away at his insides, sitting unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach every time he sees Thor hover too close to Bucky for one second too long

and he hates it, he hates feeling this way. he knows he’s being unfair, to Thor and Bucky both. he can see how Thor’s friendship affect Bucky in the best way; how important it is for him, to have one person in the world who cares, who sees beyond his past and doesn’t resent or blame him for it; someone who values him, not just as an asset to use when the need arises, but as a man, as a person, as a friend

and Steve is glad, he truly is! Bucky deserves it all – the extra positive touch, the words of affirmation, the loud appreciation, all of it. he deserves to be surrounded by people who love him, who respect him, and he deserves to feel at ease with them, as he does with Thor

but.

but every time Steve hears him laugh at one of Thor’s jokes, or catches him listening avidly to one of Thor’s many tales, which sound better and more exciting than half the sci-fi novels out there, he can’t help but wish he were the one putting that gleam in Bucky’s eyes

when he sees Thor pull Bucky into a one-armed hug so easily, while he can’t even bring himself to take Bucky’s hand, look him in the eye and whisper the words he’s been carrying in his heart for so long–

when he goes back to their place – Bucky’s place – and is greeted by yet another trinket Thor brought back from his latest trip to this or that world, the number of them crowding every room now, like a constant reminder–

when he and Bucky sit together for dinner, or Bucky tugs him along for a walk through the fields, and the first words out of his mouth are “Thor told me...” or “Thor says that...”–

Steve is jealous. so jealous he can feel his heart darken with rot from the inside out, like an apple core crawling with worms.

and the thing is, superserum or not, Steve is only human – and one day, when they’re all together and Thor is being is usual, friendly, affectionate self, Steve snaps at him for no apparent reason

it takes him a moment to realize what he’s done, and the way Bucky’s looking at him... all Steve can think to do is stalk off to go sulk in private, and maybe let the ground swallow him whole

meanwhile, Bucky doesn’t know what to think – he’s surprised, and a bit angry, and very much confused. yes, Steve has been acting weird for some time, but this? this isn’t like him at all

Thor, on the other hand, he’s not half as oblivious as he may seem; he’s been watching for a while now, and he believes he knows what’s going on with his friend. so he takes Bucky aside and tells him. clasps Bucky’s shoulder, and with a warm, benevolent smile, of the sort you’d only ever see on an immortal being, he says, “I believe it’s time for you and Steven to have a conversation, my friend.”

and dammit, but Bucky thinks so, too

locating Steve is easy enough. Bucky finds him exactly where he thought Steve would be: sitting under the tree in their backyard, where they’ve spent many of their afternoons, reading to each other, dozing off in its shade, snacking on dried fruits and nuts as they sent cute cat videos and memes back and forth between them

he’s got one of the shepherd dogs curled up in his lap, and he looks so solemn and miserable, with his fingers buried in the puppy’s fur and his head hanging gloomily, Bucky almost feels bad for him.

he approaches calmly – he knows Steve is aware of his presence by now – and sits on the ground next to him, in the groove between the tree’s roots, which they have long since claimed as their spot.

It’s Steve who speaks first, a quiet mutter, like all the fight’s gone out of him.

“What are you doing out here?”

Bucky shrugs. “Came to see if you were fit for civil company again.”

He looks over – Steve’s chin is nearly touching his chest at this point, eyes trained carefully on a nondescript spot on the dog’s white fur. Well then, Bucky decides, if this is how it’s going to play out.

“You know, Thor says he fears he must have upset you somehow.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, but there’s something there, in the way his jaw clenches minutely under his beard, that tells Bucky he’s struck the right nerve.

“And why would he think that?” asks Steve.

“I don’t know, maybe because you were being an asshole to him?”

The tips of Steve’s ears burn red hot – shame, if Bucky had to guess. Good.

“You’re right,” Steve says eventually, sounding genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I’m sorry.”

“You should apologize to him.”

Steve nods, “I will. I promise.”

and then it’s quiet again. Steve keeps rubbing his thumbs over the dog’s soft ears, silent, and it becomes clear to Bucky that if he wants anything to change here, he’s gonna have to make the first move.

“He’s got an interesting theory, you know. Thor,” he tells Steve casually, nudging Steve’s knee with his own. “He thinks you might be jealous.”

That catches Steve’s attention. His head snaps up, and this time he actually meets Bucky’s eye, stuttering, “Jealous? Wha– why would I, why would I be–”

But it’s precisely because he’s looking Bucky in the eye, that he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

“... Was it that obvious?”

He sounds so utterly mortified, Bucky can’t help a little smile there. “To some more than others. Subtlety’s never really been your thing, you know that.”

Steve sighs, leaning back against the tree trunk as tension visibly bleeds out of him.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I’ve been the worst lately. I should have been supportive, should have been rooting for you making a new friend, and instead I went and made it all about me. I’m sorry, I really am.” He goes back to scratching behind the dog’s ears, avoiding Bucky’s gaze, hesitant even as he adds, “I just... could tell how much you liked him.”

So there it is, then.

“And you thought that, since I had him now, I would just forget about you?”

The apples of Steve’s cheeks flush pink, high and full across his cheekbones. “It sounds so stupid when you put it like that.”

Good, Bucky thinks, because it is stupid. Steve is stupid – a stupid, endearing, adorable idiot, and Bucky wants to kiss the uncertainty off of his pretty face so bad it actually hurts to hold back.

“I do like Thor,” he says, watching Steve nod pitifully beside him. “He’s a good man, or– or god, or whatever he is in the first place. The thing is, he’s a good friend, and good friends are hard to come by. But Thor is not the one I want to be with. He’s not the one I want to fall asleep with, or wake up to, or come home to when the day’s work is done.”

Steve looks up, lips parted, a single grain of hope gleaming in his eyes. “He’s not?”

Bucky smiles, fond. Either Steve’s just that blind, or he’s playing dumb because he wants to hear Bucky say it; but that’s fine, too. That’s more than fine. Bucky’s gone without putting this into words for long enough. “No, Steve.”

“But there is someone.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, there is someone.”

He scoots closer, until their shoulders meet, and slips his metal hand in Steve’s own, letting Steve lace their fingers together.

“There’s this guy, you know, a good pal of mine. We go way back, basically grew up together, and I might deny this tomorrow, but I’ve been holding a torch for him since like, forever. I even asked him to move in with me – twice now, if you can believe that.”

Steve’s head tips gently against his, nuzzling briefly at Bucky’s temple. His breath is soft against Bucky’s cheek, and their hair whispers together, silk to silk. “Did you.”

Bucky hums. “First time around, we were still kids. He got all stubborn about it, figured it must be charity on my part, you know, a good Samaritan kind of deal. Never even crossed his mind that I might be more selfish than that. That he was home to me, and I wanted to be the same to him.”

The gentle squeeze of Steve’s hand around his is worth a thousand words. Bucky can feel them press into his skin, I remember, rich with fondness for the boys they used to be, and We know better now, soft and grateful, and more than that, sweeter than that, I’m right here, right here with you, deep at the core of who they’ve always been – ubi tu gaius, my love. Where you are, there I will be.

“But he came around,” Steve says, and Bucky can hear the smile in his voice as he says it.

There’s a happy ending somewhere in this story, close enough that Bucky can taste it on the roof of his mouth already, and they can spell it together, same as they’ve been doing since once upon a time.

“He sure did,” Bucky confirms. “The second time I asked him, though, he didn’t put up a fight. In fact, he didn’t try to argue at all. He said yes right away, and I thought. Maybe we’d both had enough of being apart. Maybe he wanted this as much as I did.”

“He did,” Steve promises without hesitation, body turning towards Bucky, seeking his gaze, and there’s no way Bucky could doubt him when they are like this. No way he could mistake the truth in Steve’s eyes for anything but what it is.

“And now he’s here with me,” he says. “Living with me. Building a home with me. He cooks with me, cleans up with me, stays up with me when I can’t sleep. He hangs our laundry all squared up like he’s due for an inspection, and he keeps buying more socks than either of us can ever wear, and he makes a face every time this other guy brings flowers into our home, because apparently, he should be the only one who gets to do that.”

And there’s the bright pink at the tip of Steve’s ears again, and the way he blushes all the way from the mole on his cheek to the three freckles on his neck, the way he ducks his head a little, embarrassed.

It’s moments like this that make Bucky sure: this is the man he wants. This doofus right here, who looks at him like he can’t help but, stars in his eyes, and tries so hard to hide the smallest of smiles under his beard, but he hasn’t quite learned how yet. Bucky thinks he never will. And to be honest, he kinda likes it that way.

He cups Steve’s jaw, stroking over the dimple he knows is there, buried beneath the soft bristles, and feels Steve’s smile curve under his thumb.

“I know him like the back of my hand, and still he surprises me some days. He knows me, too. Knows all there is to know, all the things that matter. He just hasn’t picked up on how much I love him yet. How happy he makes me. How jealous I get when our dogs like him better than me,” he adds, tipping his chin towards the overgrown puppy currently in Steve’s lap. Steve chuckles, and if Bucky could spend the rest of eternity just counting the crinkles around his eyes and kissing each and everyone of them, he would.

“I gotta say, this guy sounds like a mook,” Steve teases softly. “Might be you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.”

Bucky slips his fingers in Steve’s hair, pulling him in.

“You’re a dick,” he rumbles.

“I love you too,” Steve rumbles back.

“Kiss me,” Bucky tries to say, but Steve is already there.

#anon #stucky #wakanda stucky #rillers scribbles #well more like rillers rambles lol #i don't know how this got so out of hand #but it's silly and it was so much fun to scribble xD #thank you so so much nonnie <3 #seriously <3 #this just gave me the opportunity to take my mind off of things and just kinda rant mindlessly for like 2 days straight #and i couldn't be more grateful if i tried #bless you nonnie!!#i hope this didn't stray too far from what you were looking for :3

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thedo0zyslider · 1 month

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Love Come In, The Water Is Fine - 3K Words

Martyn and Ren finally get some vacation time, that may or may not include tormenting each other at the pool.

My first work for @treebarktitleswap! I hate that it took me this long to write it, but it's here and was very fun to write! My other two will be out later in the week <3

A03 Link

Martyn hums, listening to the other hum of the elevator as it descends. Ren stands beside him, his tail flicking idly against the blonde’s leg every so often. His boyfriend holds two towels draped over his arm, and Martyn holds a swim bag full of miscellaneous little things they both thought to bring. The couple was currently headed down to their hotel’s pool, something neither of them find themselves doing often.

They’ve booked this hotel for a few days, being in this city for two mutual friend’s wedding. And they could’ve booked the hotel where most of their other friends were staying, but Martyn had conveniently not seen the messages in the group chat discussing hotel agreements. It wasn’t often he and Ren got to travel, and maybe the blonde just wanted to spend some time alone with Ren on a nice trip for once. Without having to worry about any of their friends hanging around. For as much as he loves them all, their group tends to be three things: loud, nosey, and very clingy. Besides, everyone else's hotel was literally across the street anyways, they could just walk over if they really needed anything.

Martyn is in a simple outfit, a faded green t-shirt and his swim shorts. He's also wearing his cross, the ones with all the stupid charms on them. He was wearing them for the whole trip, minus the wedding festivities, to annoy several of their friends. His fashion sense would not be deterred by any naysayers, not on his watch.

Ren was in similar clothes, a gray shirt and his own swim trunks. Though the shirt is much newer and nicer than Martyn's is, with considerably less holes around the collar too. He'd only worn the old thing for swimming anyways, and didn't really care how other hotel goers looked at them, especially this late at night. Though the poor employees probably wouldn't appreciate the late night swim.

Ren’s tail thumps against the elevator wall next to him, now moving rather rapidly. Martyn holds back a giggle once he sees it’s moving faster. He doesn't know if his partner is excited to spend time with him, or if he's excited about the pool. Either way, it's really cute.

“What are you laughing at?” Ren asks, fully unaware of what his tail is doing. He raises an eyebrow, right as his tail thus against the elevator wall again. Martyn has to hold back an amused snort, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth.

“Nothing, Nothing!” The blonde giggles, catching a glimpse of his boyfriend’s tail. It’s still wagging and thumping against the wall, just at a much slower rate now. He wonders how Ren hasn’t heard the noise yet, or if he’s just so used to his tail smacking things it has become white noise. The latter seems far more likely.

Ren lets out a sad sounding little whine, the one he knows always tugs on his boyfriend’s heartstrings. “Martynnn, c’mon.” It doesn’t really have the desired effect this time, only making the blonde giggle harder. His tail is now flicking with faux upsetness, and it's just really really funny today for some reason. Or this pool adventure is just making him unusually giddy.

Martyn manages to finally calm his laughing fit, moving his hand away from his mouth. Though a chuckle or two still slips out after his words. “Sorry! Your tail’s just really cute.”

“I suppose it is, if it makes you laugh so much.” Ren sighs, letting out a small laugh of his own. Martyn lets out another snort at the comment, reaching over to give his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. A happy sound comes from the back of Ren’s throat at the peck, but before either of them can say anything the elevator beeps, and the door slowly slides open. It seems they’ve reached the ground floor, then, much to Martyn’s surprise. He kinda forgot they were in an elevator during that whole exchange, if he had to be honest.

“C’mon!” Ren says, getting all excited again, his tail hitting the wall again. Martyn holds back yet another giggle as his hand is grabbed, and he’s slightly dragged out of the elevator. He puts one hand over the bag, making sure none of its contents spill in their haste, and lets his boyfriend excitedly drag him around like a ragdoll.

It was pretty late at night, the hotel’s lobby being bathed in a mix of darkness and artificial light. It was warm and cozy, a few other vacationers sitting on plush looking couches. No one really paid the couple any mind, nothing more than an amused glance, as they moved through the lobby; Martyn’s boyfriend still dragging him along. Their fellow hotel goers just continued their conversations, or whatever they were doing, and soon enough the noise of the lobby faded.

The noise was quickly replaced by the strong smell of chlorine, indicating their new proximity to the pool. From what the signs said it was actually just a few doors down from where they currently were. The blonde just wrinkled his nose at the smell, knowing he'd adjust to it sooner rather than later. Well, more like he'd have to adjust to it, considering Ren was already pushing the pool door open, and gave him another large whiff of the chlorine. The smell was always a necessary evil when it came to swimming, he supposed.

The two of them walked into the room, one brighter than the lobby had been. The pool was a few feet away, and down a few steps as well, its interior lights bathing the whole room in a white glow. But a good kinda white glow, one that reflected nicely off the water and made the room feel a bit homey, just like the rest of their hotel seemed to feel. For the most part anyways, the elevator not included. Though it was a little hard to make an elevator feel homey, Martyn had to admit.

The pool area, from what Martyn can see, is actually pretty big for a hotel. Usually they're a little small, cramped, and crowded, but this one seems to be able to hold over ten people comfortably; and with room to double that number and then some. Though maybe the lack of people is making the room feel bigger than it actually is. Their hotel isn't exactly fancy anyways, the fancy one is across the street with all their dumb friends.

The pool was closing in thirty minutes, which was great, because all the little kids and the sane, normal people were leaving. He and Ren were just now arriving, like the maniacs they were. He says a mental apology to anyone who has to close and clean up the pool, and pushes the glass door open. Ren follows behind, his tail wagging as soon as he sees the water. Though it’s not thumping against anything, so he is spared of his partners giggles this time.

“Looks like we have the pool all to ourselves, eh.” Martyn remarks with a smile, setting down his small bag of swim goodies. Ren places the towels beside it, and sets his sunglasses on top of them.

“Indeed we do.” He agrees, blue eyes scanning over the empty pool area. The completely empty pool, actually. Martyn would've expected at least a few people to still be hanging around, a few kids who didn't want to leave just yet. But it seems everyone had retreated for the night, and left the best part of the pool empty and free. What a lucky coincidence that had to be.

“Any indication how deep it is?” Martyn asks, crouching next to the shallow side. His voice echoes off the walls, filling the empty room entirely. It makes it sound like the two are in a cave, just a little bit. A cave just for them. And he can swim, by the way, it's just been a few years since he really did. He also isn't a big fan of drowning, and would like to know how far he can go in this thing.

Ren scans around the dark pool area for a minute, before shrugging. “I dunno, but it can't be more than six feet.” He crouched next to Martyn with a small shrug, dipping a hand in the water experimentally. “It feels kinda cold, though.”

“It’s always cold when you first get in, silly.” Matyn says rather fondly, scooting back from the edge a bit. He slips his crocs off, not wanting to ruin them or lose their accessories in the water, and places them next to the towels and bag. Ren does the same with his own shoes after a moment, when he gets done testing the water's temperature.

Martyn’s the first one to actually get in the water, stepping in at the shallow end. Ren stays on the side, watching a little carefully as his partner wades into the pool. The most he does is dip his feet into the pool, despite his earlier enthusiasm for their small venture. Martyn wonders what that earlier tail wagging was for, and also wonders if Ren is too tired for swimming right now. Which would be understandable, it was pretty late and they’d had a long two days before this. But that wouldn’t stop The blonde from teasing him, though.

“You were so excited to come but you won't even get in.” He teases with a smirk. Martyn wades over to where Ren is sitting, kicking against the pool’s floor idly. “What happened to all that enthusiasm, huh?”

The dog gives a lame excuse, his ear twitching in amusement. “I don’t wanna get my fur cold!” He says, a small but playful pout on his face. His partner immediately interprets that as a challenge to him in the pool by any means possible. They only have a limited time down here, after all, why waste it?

“I'll splash you if you don't get in.” Martyn threatens, standing right next to the water’s edge. He feels a grin stretch across his face, and he rests his chin on the concrete edge of the pool, a few inches away from where his boyfriend sits. “Or worse.”

Ren snorts lightly, like he underestimates his boyfriend’s words. A foolish thing to do, indeed, he should know better than that by now surely. “No you won’t”

“Really? I won’t? ” Martyn’s grin becomes a cheeky one, and he imagines it stretches across his face like the Grinch’s did in the movie. The old animated movie, ya know, the good one, that iconic Grinch smile.

“Nah.” Ren says breezily, as if daring Martyn to do exactly what he’s thinking. He kicks at the water with his feet, as if care and worry free. Like his boyfriend currently isn’t preparing to drag him underwater like some ancient sea beast.

“That sounds like a challenge!” He exclaims, and then surges forward to grab Ren by his waist. He lets a loud laugh spill out, and drags both of them down and into the water. Whatever Ren is about to say is cut off with a loud yell, and Martyn has to move to the side as they fall in, so his boyfriend doesn’t fall on top of him and accidently drown him.

“Martyn!” Ren yelps out, as he falls right into the pool. The blonde giggles at his successful work, swimming out of the impact zone. Ren falls into the pool with a rather big splash, struggling to right himself in the water. Which is exactly why Martyn hadn't done this in the deep end, neither of them were the best swimmers in the world, admittedly. He’d made sure not to do it exactly in the shallow end though, in case it would’ve made Ren hit his head.

His partner’s head re-emerges after a minute, his hair all wet and sticking to his face. He looks very silly like that, endearingly so. “I'm gonna get you for that!” Ren exclaims, and pushes the soaking wet blob of brown away from his eyes, revealing an amused expression underneath it all.

“Are you now?” Martyn giggles, a cheeky little tease escaping his lips. His partner had a pouty look on his face, and the blonde fought the urge to swim over and kiss it off. He can do that when he’s not in danger of being dunked underwater. “You look like a wet dog.”

“I am a wet dog! And it's your fault!” Ren exclaims, clearly flailing to stop his own laughter. Though it is interrupted by him (rather unflatteringly) coughing up some pool water. Though that is Martyn’s fault, to be completely fair.

“You know you love me~” He teases, watching as Ren starts to swim closer, till they are both in the shallow end. Normally he would swim away, fearing a retribution for his attacks, but figures he won’t mind it much this time. It’s not often he gets to mess around in a pool anymore, and kinda misses doing so with his friends during their younger years.

The brunette sighs, wrapping his arms around Martyn’s shoulder once he can reach him. “Yes, I do.” He nuzzles his nose into Martyn’s cheek, and the other can’t help but melt just a little bit. He always found it adorable when Ren did that.

“You big sap.” He mumbled fondly, moving in. Ren smiled and met him halfway, letting Martyn lead the kiss. The blonde reaches up and cups his partner’s face, thumbing against his cheek. He feels Ren melt into the touch a bit, and gets held tighter for it.

As soon as they move away, Ren’s taking his chance for revenge. He momentarily dunks Martyn underwater, moving before the blonde can even process what’s happening. Martyn cuts off a noise just in time, managing to get in some air for the minute or so he’s under the water. He’s a bit disoriented, so it takes a minute to get his bearings and right himself in the water. The blonde’s pretty sure Ren is laughing at him too, even if he can’t hear him.

“Hey!” Martyn coughs, head above water once again. There is also pool water in his mouth, and it’s his turn to spit out the nasty tasting stuff. There’s no malice in his voice when he yells out, just coughs and cut off giggles. Ren’s laughing, just as he’d thought he was, and the sound of it fills up the whole room. That makes the moment even more special, Martyn thinks, even if there is chlorine in his lungs.

“I said I would get you!” Ren says, sounding so joyful. And that’s really all Martyn had been aiming for by throwing him in the pool, getting him to sound happy, especially since he’d ended up too tired and unsure about the pool trip. If his plan took a bit of pool water in his ears and mouth for it to work, then so be it.

“You did..” He admits with a rather dramatic sigh, and swims over till he can kiss his boyfriend again. Ren lets him do so with a soft smile, and moves them to the steps at the start of the pool, so they can comfortably sit there while they kiss, and so he can move Martyn into his lap during it, and draw him in even closer.

A few minutes later, a hotel worker opens the pool area’s door. They call out to the two of them, saying the pool is closing in less than fifteen minutes, and the two of them need to go. Ren calls back, sounding overly apologetic as he does so, and assures the worker that they’ll be going. Though according to hotel rules, they have to make sure all guests are out of the pool before they can begin closing it for the day, so the couple decides to take their leave; neither of them want to trouble the staff anymore than they have too.

The two of them pick up their stuff, towels being thrown over their shoulders. They dry off the quickest they can, not wanting to ruin the hotel carpet they’ll inevitably have to walk over to get to the elevator. Even though they certainly aren’t the first or last people to drip pool water all over the building, but still. Ren gives a friendly wave to the hotel worker as they leave, while Martyn just smiles sheepishly and drags him back towards their room.

They get in the elevator again, a small trail of water being left in the couple's wake. He steps through the door, and gives an internal apology to whoever has to get that out of the carpet. Ren cringes a bit at the sight, and follows him into the machine, sunglasses quickly being flicked back over his eyes.

They’re not even in the elevator a minute before Martyn’s earlier giggles come back, Ren’s tail thumping against the elevator’s wall once more; but this time it’s out of happiness rather than excitement. It takes his partner a minute to notice, but the laughs earn Martyn a light shove once he does. The blonde just laughs again, louder, and pushes Ren right out of the elevator door when it lands.

Ren is opening their room’s door a few minutes later, after totally not fumbling with the room key. Martyn totally didn’t have to use it for him, nope , not at all. The brunette mumbled an thanks as he shouldered the door open, and how this hotel had weird doors and whatnot; which earned an amused snort from Martyn.

Ten minutes after they return back, both of them are flopped on the queen sized bed. Their swim clothes were thrown into the bag, the one full of all that pool stuff they ultimately hadn’t needed in the end. Ren’s sunglasses are delicately placed on one of the nightstands, while Martyn’s headband has been thrown carelessly somewhere. He’ll probably be able to find it in the morning, probably . In an almost comedic contrast, his crocs were gently placed by the door, like they were his most prized possession ever, while Ren’s sandals where lost in the abyss of their bags for the next little bit.

“What is it, darling?” Ren asks, looking down at him with a smile.

“I want cuddles.” Martyn says, moving closer. He lazily rests his head on Ren’s abdomen, like a cat might.

“We need to go to bed, Martyn.” Ren puffs sensibly, pressing a delicate kiss into his hair. Though his words aren’t lacking something soft and fond underneath all the sensibility. “We have a wedding tomorrow.”

“You have a point.” Martyn grumbled, conceding quicker than he normally would. He was pretty excited for the wedding, and wanted to be fully awake for the whole event. So yeah, he guessed some sleep was a little necessary, especially since it was past ten at night; and the wedding was at noon the next day…

“Doesn’t mean you can’t cuddle me though.” He mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Ren’s neck. No one said they couldn’t cuddle while they sleep, after all. That was the whole point of them sharing a bed; sleepy cuddles and no other reason. Not because they loved each other or anything, nah, that’d be ridiculous.

Ren presses another kiss into his hair, and lets out a found chuckle. “I suppose I can.” He slips his arms around Martyn, and holds him tight against his chest. The blonde makes a content sound, and snuggles up closer to his boyfriend, very comfortable in this position. His partners like one big pillow, soft and lovely all the time. And always willing to go along with his nonsense, which is why Martyn loves him so much.

As he begins to drift off a few minutes later, he feels Ren’s breathing start to even out. His boyfriend had to be pretty tired to fall asleep that easily. Usually Ren would lay around, failing to sleep for ten or so minutes before something actually worked. Which made sense, considering the light stress that came with getting here and the jet lag from their flight two days ago. Martyn smiles as he lays there, already able to hear the gentle snores rumbling in his chest. Ren really is just a bug puppy, innit he?

The blonde, equally as exhausted from the past few days, does not stay awake much longer. It’s probably the easiest time he ever had falling asleep in a hotel, all of that credit going to his wonderful boyfriend. He thinks the rest of their small vacation will be just as wonderful too, especially if Ren is by his side. He always makes everything a hundred times better, being a never ending beam of sunshine in Martyn’s life since they meet. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He hopes next time they’re staying at a hotel together, it’s for their own wedding, and that they can have a light just like this once again.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #treebark #renthedog #rendog #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn littlewood #martyn itlw #trafficshipping #inthelittlewood

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ppangjae · 2 years

Text

SOMETIMES | CHAPTER 4. STICKY NOTES

SYNOPSIS. Sometimes, Jaehyun forgets that you are roommates.

— or, alternatively: it all started with a blackout in the whole building.

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRE. fluff | slight smut | roommates!au

word count. 1400 words

warnings. swearing

author’s note. happy reading~ chapter 5 will be posted tonight!

prev > masterlist > next

What are you? That’s a question that never seems to leave your mind, especially after that night. You can’t seem to formulate an answer to that question. Not when you woke up the next morning next to Jaehyun’s shirtless body. Not when you both act like a domestic couple living in the same apartment. Not when you both forget that you’re just roommates.

The two of you have seen each other, quite literally. You’ve seen right through Jaehyun. He’s seen right through you. You’ve both crossed boundaries. Roommates are to never develop some sort of feelings for each other simply because they are two complete strangers to each other, sharing the same living space until their lease is up. Right… your lease. You and Jaehyun signed a 1-year lease. Once one year passes, the two of you become strangers again. You’ll be strangers unless you both agree upon extending your lease.

But with what’s happened so far in the past couple of months, you’re not sure if extending the lease would be an option.

“Jaehyun, we need to clean the apartment.”

It’s the first thing you tell him when he comes home from work. Your conversations with him have been short. You know that he’s aware of how short they’ve gotten.

“Alright. Let me clean myself up first and we can start cleaning,” he insists as he excuses himself to his bedroom.

His bedroom. It haunts you in your sleep. The memory of you losing yourself on his bed sheets, him towering over you. Your hands gripping tightly onto the bed sheets as he thrusts himself into you, head thrown back in complete pleasure. It haunts you. You know the musky scent that fills his bedroom. You can hear and remember the sound of his moans in your ear. You know where all his things are. You shouldn’t know. You shouldn’t be feeling this way. You shouldn’t have even stepped into his bedroom, let alone have sex with him in his bed.

It’s been two and a half weeks since that night. It still haunts you in your sleep. Tonight will be no different.

You’re too absorbed in your own thoughts that you barely notice him walking into the living room and plopping down next to you on the six hundred dollar couch. He nudges you gently and it brings you back to reality.

“Shall we get started?” He asks.

You make the biggest mistake of looking at him. Your eyes meet. You quickly look away, getting up from the couch. “Let’s get started.”

It’s been two and a half weeks since you both cleaned the apartment. Everything is lazily placed around in the apartment, your socks and hair ties, his sweaters and bucket hats. The two of you start with your own bedrooms, conducting a deep cleanse before grouping together to clean the rest of the apartment.

It takes you about half an hour to deeply cleanse your bedroom. Jaehyun takes about roughly the same amount of time. The two of you then help each other clean the living room, where most of the mess was made. Empty coffee cups, empty coffee mugs, hair ties, worn clothing, and all the like. You and Jaehyun make yourselves busy, not starting a single conversation.

You’re dusting the TV setup when one of the books on the bookshelf falls to the floor. Slowly picking it up, you place it back onto the shelf before noticing a yellow sticky note attached to the back of it. Peeling off the sticky note, you bring it closer to you to read the scribbled note on it.

Is this book your favorite? I waited for you to finish reading it before reading it myself. Hope you don’t mind. You have great taste in books. I feel like I should get to know you better. -J

Your cheeks heat up. You place the sticky note in your pocket. Continuing with your deep cleaning, you see Jaehyun move on to the dining room to wipe down the tables and chairs. You head to the couch to fluff up the couch pillows until another sticky note falls from one of them.

Loved our IKEA trip. We should go again. It was nice couch hunting with you that day. -J

It’s too risky for your heart to be feeling this way. Soft. Mushy. But you place the sticky note into your pocket anyway before moving on. You’re dusting the coffee table and somehow, you take a look underneath and to your surprise, there is a blue sticky note stuck underneath. You tilt your head in confusion. It’s an odd place to put a sticky note because you would have never found it.

I remember how you like your coffee. Three cream and three sugar. I think it’s the small things like this that truly makes me want to know you better. I’m trying. -J

Jaehyun takes out the trash and leaves you all alone in the apartment. You take this as an opportunity to look for more sticky notes. Rushing to the bathroom, you look through all the drawers, underneath the shampoo bottles, until you eye the mirror. You open the mirror and right behind it is a yellow sticky note.

K, stop studying and dreading how you look when you look in the mirror. I always found you pretty. -J

You rush into the kitchen to open every single cabinet. You find at least three sticky notes. One was stuck underneath a coffee mug, one was stuck on a jar to mimic a label, and another one was stuck right behind the cabinet door.

Everyday, I find you charming when you’re cooking dinner for the two of us. Let me cook you a meal sometimes. I promise I’m a great cook! -J

You have an eye for details, especially by remembering how I like my coffee. I admire that. -J

Oh, have you ever wondered how our lives would’ve been if we didn’t meet each other at the rental office? I’m so happy to have met you. It happened at the perfect place and at the perfect time. -J

You agree with the last sticky note.

Bumping into Jaehyun at the rental office was the perfect time and the perfect place. You were looking for a place to stay. He was also looking for a place to stay. Somehow, you both made it work. If you didn’t bump into Jaehyun that day, you probably wouldn’t be living in the city. You would probably still be living with your parents, commuting your way to the city every morning for work. Sometimes, you wonder how things would’ve turned out if you never met Jaehyun that day.

“Hey, the mailman came in and I brought you your mail—”

You snap your head towards the door to see Jaehyun standing there. Frozen. He has a stack of mail in his hands and you gulp nervously. He eyes the sticky notes in your hands before breaking out into a smile.

“You found them!”

“I—”

“Finally. It took you a while to find them, huh?”

“But—But—”

He points at them. “How many did you find?”

You count them by pulling each one out of your pocket. “Seven.”

He slowly nods his head. “You’re missing one.”

“Is this some sort of game, Jaehyun? Easter egg hunt?” You question and he smiles.

“It’s not like I’m going to tell you where I put the last one,” he grins. “Two weeks have gone by and it is only now that you’ve started to find them.”

“They’ve been hidden for quite some time now?” You raise an eyebrow and he nods.

“I spent the last two weeks hiding them around the apartment. I guess you were just too busy with work to even stumble upon one.” He explains. “But I’m glad you found them now. It would’ve been embarrassing if you never found them. It would be even more embarrassing if you find them when our lease is up.”

You find yourself smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. “Jaehyun, you shouldn’t have. This is so sweet.”

He folds his arms. “Well, now you have to find the last sticky note.”

“Where did you put it?”

“My lips are sealed!”

“Hey!”

Right before Jaehyun runs away from you, he eyes your six hundred dollar couch. Soon after, he rushes to his room when you start to lunge at him.

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talesofstyles · 3 years

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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stagefoureddiediaz · 2 years

Text

Happy new episode day everyone! 🎉🎉🎉

I wanted to get this out before the episode goes live and I’m hopin o can get everyone else done this week so I can then do a more general costume post for the episode looking at all the characters rather than individual focus! I’m sorry it’s ended up as an Uber long post! As always thanks to all the gif makers who’s gifs I’ve shamelessly stolen to make my mountain of text look prettier and show my points!

As ever this is a continuation of my costume metas which you can read here, here, here and here.

I’m going to look at Christopher in two separate parts - firstly the suit shopping scene because I have a suit Goldilocks theory (and this is partly because kids only wear suits at certain events - not in more day to day and work scenarios like adults!)

- his old suit that he wore to his mother’s funeral is too small.

- new suit he’s trying in to please his fathers girlfriend is too big and doesn’t fit properly (telling that he’s tried on several).

- the next time we see Chris in a suit I expect it to fit him perfectly (Manifesting at Buddies wedding 🤣)

- These suits are a literal metaphor for where Chris is mentally and emotionally and his costuming is important because he’s a character we don’t really often see away from Eddie or Buck.

I’m not saying the old suit is too small because he doesn’t still love his mom, because he absolutely does and he always will, but she can never come back into the picture. We as humans continue to grow and develop and change even, and especially, when we loose someone close to us (I speak from personal experience here - I lost my mum at 18 - I will always love her and she will always be a part of me, but I know I’m a different person than I would’ve been because she is no longer a physical presence in my life providing support and guidance - I wonder if she’d be able to recognise the me I am now.) Chris may not be cognisant of this yet, because he’s still a child, but to us as the audience the suit is a physical representation of his personal growth as well as his physical growth as a child, the fact it doesn’t fit properly shows us he’s not yet there.

The suit shop suit is also showing us, the audience, Christopher’s opinion on Eddieana as a couple - it doesn’t fit and he is manifestly uncomfortable! The only other time we’ve seen him act out in any way when Eddie told him in s4 that he was dating Ana and this suit is a continuation of that.

- an ill fitting suit and it’s interesting that it’s grey - he won’t be the focus of the scene even though other aspects of the mise en scene initially pull you that way (that it’s supposed to be Chris they’re shopping for, shop assistant and everyone are focused on him - except the camera and sound etc) - an aside to say I love the use of mirrors and both Eddie and Chris being seen in reflection - the representation of not being one’s true self (911 uses this concept really effectively- think Bobby getting back into the dating game in s1 and all the times the mirrors on the fire trucks or mirror reflections have been used!) - they are both trying to make the other happy by projecting what they think the other needs - neithers reflection looks comfortable in that moment even though they’re trying - an indication that they’ve not spoken with each other about it, they’re just following along with a projected image!

On to the rest of Christopher’s outfits!

we have no real idea how he felt about the break up - because we haven’t been shown his reaction, but we can make some assumptions based on his clothing. This season Chris has had some different outfit choices from previous seasons and they reflect what I’ve previously said about Buck being in smart and patterned shirts around Taylor. I should also add that the outfits Chris has worn in previous seasons are really interesting in relation to how his personality is developing into a blend of Eddie, Shannon and Buck (I might do an entire post on this alone when I get some time!!) Chris has had 5 scenes thus far and they all reflect his comfort levels (and also to a subconscious extent his fathers) especially related to Ana and Eddie - hard to get a read on anyone else because he’s not really been around anyone else yet.

Green poisonous creatures tee - aside from the rather obvious poisonous creatures, the shirt is green - not quite the army green of Eddie’s, but it’s in that tonal area - he’s going into battle for his dad - the brighter shade is also interesting because it sits in the spectrum between the subtle shades of Eddie (reflecting his quieter more stoic personality) and the brighter tones of Bucks clothing (again reflective of Bucks more outwardly loud personality) - perhaps, and I might be reading more into this than is there, but it’s something I would’ve done, (and the costume designer will have been involved in season arcing conversations so will know where Buddie is headed at this point - lucky Alyana!!) as a way of showing that Chris’s personality is becoming a blend of both Eddie and Bucks - that Chris is prepared to be a it louder when he needs to be - that Chris is the one that drops the info to the Dr about the shooting holds this theory up and it’s his way of fighting for his dad and getting him both some support and for Eddie to acknowledge he needs some help - that it’s being instigated by chris is an important and wonderful thing because Eddie will always do stuff to make sure his son is ok so for them to signal chris is willing to do the same is just amazing and shows the father son bond and all through a t-shirt, never doubt that designers do thing intentionally (even if it’s to play with the audience’s minds). 😍

When Chris and Ana visit the firehouse we see Chris in a pretty formal outfit for a 10 year old considering it’s also a heatwave (we’ve seen Chris in shirts before, he does wear them fairly frequently. When around Ana he never wore t-shirts in previous seasons which makes the green tee from above the exception and the reason why is obvious!). Again the shirt is slightly over sized, but it’s also patterned - the pink and blue check which from a distance reads as a purply red colour and is pretty busy, this all matches what I’ve said previously about Bucks shirts indicating his discomfort around Taylor - formal = not comfortable - putting up a front or presenting an ideal, and the pattern = disordered thinking and lack of mental comfort. All of this is signalling that Chris is not happy being left with Ana so he’s putting up a front. We know if he’s been with Carla he’d have been much more casually dressed - we’ve seen it in previous series, which is why this outfit was so important and jarring!

I can never never never get enough of this hug btw!!

I can’t find a Gif so you’ll have to take my word for it or go watch the (cringe fest of Ana) scene again. Chris’s yellow shirt is an acid almost neon yellow - it’s super bright - the brightest thing in the whole scene by a long way and it’s meant to draw our eye - it’s as much a signpost for us as it is for Eddie - Chris is the way out of the darkness, he is Eddie’s guiding light, a route out of the mental darkness that has preceded, the blackout (which is a metaphor for most of the main characters internal turbulence at this time) and in some ways ties in with the green shirt from the hospital (I wish I could fully see the design on it to see if it revealed more).

We’ve seen Chris in yellow a couple of times, and they’ve been important.

the tsunami - which cemented his bond with Buck, separate from Eddie.

Also at Mays graduation party - where we saw Buck stepping into a fatherly role (mays message board) and cementing the Buckley-diaz family dynamic (that this is happening at a time when we now know Eddie is changing/ has changed his will makes it even more pertinent!).

The blue tee Chris is wearing bed is super interesting to me - this is one of the few times we’ve seen him in a single colour t-shirt (especially when he’s in pyjamas!). Normally Chris is either wearing multi colour tees (such as the striped ones we’ve seen him in previously), patterned pyjamas, or t-shirts that have logos on them. In fact (off the top of my head) the only instance prior to this I can remember Chris wearing a single colour t-shirt is when Eddie comes home from the hospital (and fun fact it was a mini Henley in army green!). There could be several reasons for this - blue is considered a calming colour and Eddie is seeking the calming comfort of his son, he’s not in need of guidance at this point in time (the universe doesn’t need to scream at the moment for more than one reason) so there is no graphic logo (as an aside we don’t even see the solar system mobile in this scene!) also the fact that it’s what I term a ‘jewel’ shade (which is the colour spectrum they tend to put Buck in fyi,) is designed to re-emphasise the importance of Christopher to Eddie - the importance of family.

I can’t wait to see what Chris is wearing in future episodes, his costumes are always so interesting and I’m expecting a return to graphic tees and colour ways that match both Eddie and Buck at different times! I’m definitely going to have to run a closer look at his outfits since S2 in more detail, especially around when he is and isn’t wearing stripes because I have a theory about 911 characters in stripes, but I need to check it holds up I’ve just not had the time to look at it yet!! And one other thing I need - Eddie in yellow, to support another theory I have (and the yellow from the crossover doesn’t count even though it made him look so pretty 😍)

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elysianslove · 3 years

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heaven on your lips; matsukawa smau

synopsis; he finds refuge in that no matter what, you will always come back to him. he finds refuge in that he’s the sole reason for your pleasure and happiness. whether that be from the sidelines, or from within the four walls of your home, in the confines of your bedroom. no matter what, you’re his, and he’s yours, even if neither of you seem to notice it.

pairings; matsukawa issei x fwb!reader

genre; fluff, smut, humor

warnings; cursing and inappropriate language. nsfw and suggestive themes.

note; i am so excited to post this holy crap. if there are grammar or spelling mistakes pls just ignore my brain is fried :(

masterlist | previous , chapter eighteen , next

issei remembers the day the two of you had decided on your arrangement, clearly too. maybe it’s because, looking back now, it’s the first real clue on the consequences.

this had been maybe the third (or had it been fourth) time either of you you had woken up naked in each other’s beds, limbs tangled and muscles sore from their exhaustion. you’d been half asleep in his arms, eyes barely open, cheek pressed to his chest and arm slung across his torso. only minutes ago were you fixated on his phone’s screen, but after the night’s strenuous activities, and the warmth and comfort issei was radiating, so soothing, calming, safe, it was hard not to easily lose focus and fall into a deep slumber.

if he’d noticed, he wouldn’t have nudged you awake. but he hadn’t, so he’d lifted his shoulder, shaking you awake slightly as he locked his phone, tossing it across his bed.

“why’d you wake me?” you’d sleepily asked, slowly lifting yourself up. a red splotch had appeared on your cheek and jaw, from having pressed against his skin for too long, and, unable to resist, he’d reached out and poked at it cheekily. he remembers you grabbing at his finger, rolling your eyes as you’d threatened to bite him.

as he’d watched you sat up, brushing your hair back and trying to smooth it over, he’d asked you. now, he realizes, it hadn’t been the right question. at the time, of course it was. he liked the way you fit against him so perfectly, the way nobody had ever felt as good as you, how responsive you were to him, the way everything felt so electric. it had been summer, the weather outside obvious on the way your skin glimmers from not just where you’d been beneath him. the summer after graduation, where uncertainty was at its highest. commitment was scary in every way, and so were big decisions. both of you already had the responsibility of your future on your shoulders. his suggestion had been perfect for your situation.

“do you wanna keep doing this?”

if only he’d had the courage to take it further. fate had spelled it out for him, handed it to him on a silver platter. you were his past, his present, and so obviously, his future. and yet, he’d hesitated. he’d faltered, stuttered, wavered, and then he’d had to watch you belong to another man for a night, and for however long it was meant to.

“that’s an— amazing idea,” you’d gasped. “why didn’t we think of that last time?”

he’d laughed lightly, welcoming you easily into his embrace as you’d leaned forward, hovering your lips above his as you had added, “or the time before that?” before kissing him lightly, crawling closer to him. “or the time before that?” you had repeated, kissing him again, sleep having completely worn off. he’d helped you onto his lap, your skin feeling so pretty and perfect against his large hands as he’d kneaded and massaged your waist and hips, pulling you even closer to him.

and now, as he locks his car, walking to your front door, he somehow feels you upon his lips.

the memory is frustrating, and he’s reminded awfully of the things he’d do to kiss you again. even if he hadn’t noticed and recognized it then, it had been nothing short of heaven.

heels in your hand, a just freshly used lipstick tube in the other, you rush towards the door when the bell rings loud, praying that it’s not an unexpected guest and one of your boys instead

“coming!” you call out loudly, placing the lipstick aside and finally opening the door. at the sight of issei on the other side, you relax, sighing lightly.

“can’t say i haven’t seen you this relieved to see me before,” he teases, smirking familiarly down at you. even after ending it, he still manages to slip in a sex joke or two— you can’t say you blame him.

you roll your eyes, still managing to smile lightly as you step aside, allowing him to enter. his figure now properly illuminating, you’re able to fully take him in. it’s unsurprising that he looks good; issei’s always managed to effortlessly look put together, even in the most casual of clothes. but maybe it’s because he’s not in casual clothes that you feel a yearning for him you haven’t had since he’d been naked in your bed over a month back. he’s dressed in black on black, a button up and slacks. the button up’s sleeves are rolled up to his mid forearms, and on his wrist are two leather bands. but most importantly, on his fingers are a multitude of rings, silver and black, thick and thin, accentuating just how nice his hands really are.

“a blazer would’ve been too much, hm?” he interrupts your staring, cracking his knuckles lightly.

“like you own one,” you joke, smiling tauntingly as you lead the way to your living room.

laughing loudly, he follows you as you make your way to the couch, sitting down and placing your heels by your feet. but just as you’re about to grab at one of the heels, he beats you to it, lifting it up, before tapping at your knee. “let me,” he offers, outstretching a hand expectedly.

raising a brow, you observe him carefully. but because this is issei, it’s issei, you don’t think twice as you lift your leg over his lap, letting his hands brush against your ankle as he fits the heel on. “wow, ‘sei, didn’t think you’re down this bad,” you laugh, lifting your other leg up to let him put your other heel on. he rolls his eyes at your words, smiling softly. as he secures it, you lift a hand to his shoulder, adding, “thank you.”

“no, thank you, for flashing me,” he says, finger reaching out for your dress’s strap, hooking through it and lifting it over your shoulder. you hold back a shiver when his finger brushes against your skin.

you spare a glance down, scoffing as you reply, “you’ve seen worse.”

“you mean better,” he corrects you, and you stifle a laugh, shaking your head as you fix yourself up, fumbling with your hair and dress and accessories. “what are you stressing so much about? you look gorgeous.”

your hands falter slightly at his words, and you smile softly at him, relaxing. “so you meant what you said?”

“when have i ever not?”

the doorbell rings again.

slowly, but surely, your home starts to fill with people. right after issei had been makki, iwaizumi, and oikawa, but not long after had the karasuno third years — and some past first and second years too, including a certain, lively, ginger boy — arrived. it’s a surprise seeing hinata slightly taller now, and he jokes that it won’t be long before he’s surpassing everyone in the room.

you spend the time between that and when the next people arrive catching up with everyone, learning what they’ve been up to. it’s a lot less awkward than you’d imagined, and you easily fall into comfortable talk, and soon a lighthearted atmosphere builds.

when semi first sees you, he smiles, softly. he grabs at your hand and twirls you around, telling you that you look so pretty, dove. the nickname as always, makes your heart flutter in your chest, but just like the last time you’d been with him, it also aches. terribly so.

it’s eleven thirty when your home is properly flooded with people, half an hour away from midnight. someone had taken the liberty of dimming the lights slightly, and everyone had long since gotten comfortable. as you glance at the couch occupied by a couple making out — you’re barely able to identify their figures among the other people that crowd around them and the darkness that surrounds the couple — and at the drinks and foods scattered across the room, you realize just how much of a pain this’ll be to clean up.

thankfully, you have four extremely athletic boys as your backbone. it’s the only thing that keeps your mind at ease when you watch someone’s drink spill all over them and on the floor.

you’re pulled out of your thoughts, both literally and figuratively, when a familiar redhead grips at your wrist— a now bald redhead?

“tendō? oh my god, you shaved your hair!” you’re practically yelling over the loud music booming through the house — please, do not let the cops raid this party — eyes wide at the man before you.

he laughs loudly, eyes closing and head thrown back, before he rubs his hand over his hair, or what’s left of it. “ya like it, huh?” he asks loudly, beaming down at you.

you nod excitedly, gripping at his hands tightly. “i actually really do. suits you,” you chuckle.

he laughs again, replying with a heartfelt thank you, holding onto you just as eagerly as he adds, “come on, let’s dance, pretty girl.”

by the time the countdown is nearly about to start, you’d been roped into dancing with tendō and kuroo, whose friend bokuto had jumped in the middle of it all. makki’s easily drawn to vibes like these, so, unexpectedly, you’d found him by your side immediately. bursting with adrenaline and slightly overwhelmed, you’d pulled kiyoko and any other girls you had come across into the small dance circle you and the rest had created. unsurprisingly, kiyoko’s an incredible dancer. it’s freeing and intoxicating, the way you’re able to let loose, to be so carefree, inhibitions mostly lost.

you’re breathless and sweaty as everyone eventually groups and pairs off aside, hair pulled up and out of your face to air yourself out slightly. the room is buzzing with excitement as the last minutes before midnight pass, drinks in hand and cheers prepared.

issei finds you exactly sixty seconds before midnight.

you’re walking in the opposite direction, but his hand latches onto your wrist, turning you around. when you spot and recognize him before you, you beam, walking closer to him.

“hey,” you greet him, smiling warmly. his expression only slightly mirrors yours, laced more with worry than you, and more than you’d ever seen on him, and when his hand leaves your wrist, it only finds your hand instead. but you don’t pull away at it. you let him test the waters, his hand shakily slipping into yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

near you, someone calls out the thirty second mark.

“i have to tell you something.”

he’s a lot closer now, his grip on your hand tightening, almost as if nervously, your confusion growing.

“right now?” you wonder, watching as he nods.

the twenty second mark is yelled out from someone that sounds an awful lot like oikawa.

“right now,” he replies. “it should have been a long time ago though.”

your brows furrow, and you cock your head slightly, stepping closer to him. “you can tell me anything,” you promise him, reassuring. you squeeze your hand in his, urging another smile on your face as his eyes meet yours.

“anything?”

you nod encouragingly, almost feeling the time tick by. the room starts to feel smaller.

“nobody could ever compare,” he starts, just as someone calls out the ten second mark. your eyes search for meaning in his, but you’re clueless. the countdown begins, from ten to nine to eight, and he continues, “nobody.”

“issei—“

“— four, three, two!—“

“i love you.”

“—HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

and then he kisses you.

end note; 🦋🦋🦋 enjoy this while it lasts loves <3

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Summary: She may mean the world to Iwaizumi Hajime but at the end of the day, Oikawa Tooru is his star.

AO3 Link here

Sequel: Broken Compass

She used to think the universe intended for her to literally crash into one Iwaizumi Hajime.

One of her first assignments as a writer for one of the country’s top sports magazines was to cover the Japanese volleyball team’s season, and despite constant reminders from her editors not to screw this up because the men’s volleyball team is crazy popular these days, she manages to trip over her own feet and knock not just herself, but the newly minted team trainer to the ground.

When she lifts her head from the ground, the first thing that hits her mind is - goodness, he’s hot - he’s a veritable god among men, all sinewy muscles and sunkissed skin, and she can’t bring herself to speak as he carefully checks her once over for any signs of injury. ‘Are you alright?’ he asks her, and she nods dumbly as he pulls her to her feet and waves her off with a warm smile. The heat from his hands lingers on her skin long after she goes to bed that night.

They meet again at the next match. He remembers her name, she gives him a friendly wave. Then at the next match, she cheekily asks for his comments and he huffs a laugh as he directs her to the team’s PR manager. By the end of the season, she works up the courage to ask him out for coffee, and he says yes .

Iwaizumi Hajime is everything she dreamt of in a partner - kind, caring, steady, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He always wraps his arm around her to pull her close when they walk along the edge of the road, and indulges her pleas for an extra cuddle – ‘ the last one, I promise! ’ - every morning when he leaves for work. They exchange long text messages late into the night when either of them are on the road, and nag each other for working too hard. When they lay in bed at night, he whispers promises filled with love against her skin, tells her he can trace the constellations in her eyes.

It makes it so easy for her to close her eyes and believe that their love is written in the stars, so a year later when he asks her to marry him, she doesn’t hesitate to jump into his arms and say yes . The weight of the silver band he slips on her finger grounds her with his love, and her heart is full.

She can’t stop feeling like a thief who’s snatched the sun from the sky.

Oikawa Tooru is to be his best man of course.

She knows who he is, she’s covered the sport long enough to have heard about him - the prodigious setter from Miyagi who never made it once to Nationals despite his obvious talent (an exquisitely crafted katana is, after all, no match for the brute force of a cannon), who spit in the face of fate and chased his dreams to sunnier lands.

Iwaizumi has always been awfully fond of regaling her with stories of Oikawa, so much so that she thinks she can piece together their relationship - childhood friends turned longtime teammates, the long suffering ace and the monstrously brilliant setter. She watches his face soften uncharacteristically when he reads news about his old friend winning a match, and hardens when Oikawa whines loudly during their video calls about his bruises and sore knee. She can’t help but think Iwaizumi must have been like Jupiter, a god in his own right, drawn into orbit around Oikawa, a star burning over-bright.

She knows they remain best friends despite their separation by whole continents, keeping in contact via video calls and text messages, playing hopscotch with the time difference. They certainly look like it when they greet each other at the airport, Oikawa trilling a playful ‘ Iwa-channn’ and Iwaizumi grunting at him to ‘shut up, they’re in public, dumbass!’, exchanging back slaps so loud it makes her wince.

‘You must be the poor fiancee’, Oikawa gives her an exaggerated leer as he stands before her, hands on hips. ‘What did Iwa-chan drug you with to get you to marry him? Do you know he snores like a monster in his sleep? You know you can back out before the wedding right? Blink once if you’re ok, and twice if you’re not - and I’ll help you escape from him.’

Before she can respond to that frankly impertinent speech, Iwaizumi roars ‘Shut-up, Shittykawa’, tackling him into a headlock and wrestling him off into their car. She stifles a laugh as they spend the rest of the ride to Oikawa’s hotel room bickering back and forth.

‘How did you manage to pack so much luggage for a two week stay, you vain piece of crap!’

‘I care about my looks and grooming - unlike some of us who skulk around in clothes they’ve worn since high school!’

‘Vainpot.’

‘Beast.’

‘Piece of shit’

‘Meanie’

Iwaizumi alternates between grunting and growling at Oikawa’s nonsense but his eyes are shining (so bright that she can see stars) and Oikawa’s retorts are punctuated with smiles that are impossibly wide. She thinks to herself it’ll be good for Iwaizumi to have Oikawa around.

Oikawa starts to call her ‘ Chibi-chan ’ especially when Hajime is around to be annoyed by it – she admits she’s short, but not that short, it’s just that he spends most of his time surrounded by literal giants - and develops an irritating habit of ambushing her with quizzes about Hajime's likes and dislikes.

'Favourite food?'

'Agedashi tofu.'

'Favourite movie?'

'Godzilla.’

After a few rounds of these pop quizzes, she looks at him like he's sprouted a second head. ‘Seriously, Oikawa-san, we're getting married in less than two weeks. Do you seriously think I wouldn't know the most obvious things about my own fiancé?'

'Don't frown, Chibi-chan, you'll grow wrinkles and look old', he sing songs at her. 'I'm just making sure you're worthy of Iwa-chan's love!'

'Stop bullying my fiancée, Shittykawa, or I'll beat you up so bad you can't move'. Iwaizumi rubs lazy circles against her back, and she leans against him comfortably.

'Aww Iwa-chan, once a bone head, always a bone head’, Oikawa says, scrunching his face into a mock-sniff. ‘Say, Chibi-chan, do you know Iwa-chan would beat me up ‘til I let go all the cicadas we caught, but if they died, he would cry?'

‘Are you calling me a crybaby, Shittykawa’, Iwaizumi growls dangerously, simmering down only when she coos at him, ‘that’s so cute, you must have been such a sweet child’.

Then, sensing that her presence is probably stopping the boys from catching up fully, she shoos them out of the apartment on the premise that they should get some fresh air and cool off but really so they can get some much needed time together. ‘ And stop fighting’ , she calls after them, making good use of the quiet to busy herself with wedding preparations.

When Iwaizumi finally returns home late that night, he finds her asleep on the couch, and with a soft smile he curls up around her. ‘Hajime?’ she breathes, nuzzling her nose into his neck, and he has to bite back the urge to cover her face with kisses, tightening his hold on her instead.

‘I’m back’, he whispers, his breath warm against her neck. ‘Sorry I was out so long’.

‘It’s fine’, she mumbles sleepily. ‘Did you guys have fun?’

‘Yeah - we went for dinner and then Oikawa dragged me to at least five different bakeries to find the perfect milk bread before he was willing to go for drinks’, he complains. ‘And he made me promise to go for drinks with Issei and Hanamaki tomorrow afternoon before we meet with the wedding coordinator’.

‘Mm’, she hums absently. ‘Oikawa seemed a little on edge earlier. I’m glad he calmed down and had fun with you’.

Iwaizumi frowns into her hair, thinking back to Oikawa’s inexplicable needling of her earlier. ‘Sweetheart, if Oikawa is irritating you, I'll make him stop’.

‘It’s fine’, she says, with a little more force than she intended, waving away the concerned look he gives her. ‘He’s your best friend, Hajime. I think he's just feeling a little insecure. You should spend more time with him while you still can’.

He grins and kisses her warmly. ‘You’re too good to me. What did I do to deserve you?’

‘Because the universe willed that I love you’, she answers, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth.

But Oikawa manages to find a way to wreck her well made plans.

Iwaizumi finds her in the kitchen, back turned towards him, and the slam of the dishes on the counter makes him wince. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart’, he tells her, wincing when she shrugs off his hand.

'You skipped our appointment with our wedding coordinator', she hisses, whirling around to face him. ‘But that’s not the worst of it - do you know how scared I was when you didn’t pick up my calls? I thought you got hurt or heaven forbid - got run over by a car and died, Hajime!’

‘I’m sorry’, he repeats, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. 'I got engrossed in catching up with Hanamaki and Issei, and Oikawa stole my phone so I lost track of time. I kicked his ass for it, you could've heard him whining about it from outer space’. He slyly slides an arm around her waist, resisting her attempts to pull away as he buries his nose in her hair. ‘I'll make it up to you, I promise'.

'Make sure you do', she huffs, leaning into his warmth. ‘And what was Oikawa’s reason for stealing your phone?’

‘You know Shittykawa, he probably thought he was being cute. I’ll make him apologise,’ Hajime replies, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck.

She relaxes a fraction, breathing in his familiar scent - fresh linen and pine and home, but that doesn't ease the knot of something - she can't quite put her finger on what it is just yet - weighing down in her chest.

True to his word, Iwaizumi drags Oikawa by his ear to lunch with them the next day, not letting go until he apologises to her with an appropriately chastened expression on his face. ‘I’m sorry, Chibi-chan, I shan’t do it again’, he tells her contritely, but when Iwaizumi’s back is turned, he shoots her a puckish grin brimming with mischief that makes her toes curl.

She ignores him, and lets herself be drawn into the flow of their conversation - Oikawa complaining incessantly about Ushijima Wakatoshi and Kageyama Tobio whom she’s met many times in the past few months and he shoots her dirty looks when she archly tells him that she thinks they’re lovely men, Iwaizumi getting on Oikawa’s case again for not eating enough, for not sleeping enough, barely able to restrain himself from violence when Oikawa responds with a trilled ‘ Iwa-chan, you sound like my mother ’.

The conversation meanders off to their Seijoh teammates she’s not terribly familiar with, so she’s caught off guard when Oikawa abruptly turns to her with shit-eating grin and asks innocently ‘Say, Chibi-chan, what about Iwa-chan caught your eye?’

‘Have you looked at him?’ she says, playfully nudging a blushing Iwaizumi with her elbow. ‘He’s built like a god.’

Oikawa’s smile turns sickly sweet, showing far too much teeth. ‘In that case, I’m surprised you didn’t go for one of the volleyball players instead. Or was Iwa-chan your last attempt? You’re twenty-five this year, after all.’

A glance in Iwaizumi’s direction shows her exactly what she expects - first, his mouth drops open in a wide-eyed, open mouthed gape, then fury burns white hot across his face, and she has to grab his hand before he causes a scene by throwing himself bodily across the table to strangle the smirk off Oikawa’s face. ‘I can fight my own battles’, she mouths at him, willing him to stay in his seat, her hand still pressed firmly against his.

‘Well, you did ask me what first attracted me to Hajime, and I didn’t lie - I was really drawn by his looks’.

She inhales and lets herself be drawn back to the warmth of the memory of tumbling head first into Iwaizumi’s arms, and exhales to look squarely at Oikawa. ‘But then I fell for his kindness, his steadfastness, his patience - and when he told me he loved me, I felt as if the universe had handed me the sun, the moon and the stars’.

Her answer must have touched Oikawa’s shrivelled little heart, she thinks to herself, because something in his eyes shutters and a look of respect streaks across his face. ‘Well said, Chibi-chan, well said’, he says begrudgingly. ‘Iwa-chan is lucky to have you’.

The rest of lunch passes without incident, and when she and Iwaizumi are finally back home, he corners her as she’s about to go to bed and asks quietly - ‘Sweetheart, did you really mean all of that?’

‘Of course I do. I love you, Hajime. Do you need me to count the ways?’

‘Maybe’, he responds playfully, circling his arms around her as she pulls him to bed. She lies in his embrace, ear pressed to his chest and falls asleep to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the ebb and flow of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

When Iwaizumi calls out that he’ll be gone to the bar down the street for an hour or two to vet Oikawa’s best man speech, she certainly did not expect him to burst back into their flat with Oikawa held bridal style in his arms. It would have been a comical sight - Oikawa’s bulky frame dwarfing even Iwaizumi, legs looking ludicrously long dangling over Iwaizumi’s arms - but for the frantic expression of Iwaizumi’s face and the desperate way Oikawa clings to Iwaizumi’s neck.

‘Idiot bumped his knee while doing shots’, Iwaizumi explains to her distractedly, as he settles Oikawa onto their couch. ‘I don’t think it’s serious, but I’ll take him to the doctor in the morning to check him out just in case. Brought him to our place since it’s closer than his hotel room, and I can keep an eye on him overnight’.

She hands him an ice pack. ‘Why don’t you two take our bed, and I’ll take the couch? He’ll be more comfortable that way, and you can watch over him at night.’

‘Are you sure?’ Iwaizumi frowns, and she nods, pushing him towards his friend while she turns to fetch a set of spare pyjamas for their unexpected guest. Iwaizumi lifts Oikawa to their bed and together, they strip him of his clothes and, mindful of his knee, gingerly slide him into clean clothes.

‘Iwa-chan’, she hears the lanky setter whine as she makes to leave the room to bring an extra ice pack. Turning her head, she catches a glimpse of Hajime bending over Oikawa’s form. She’s not sure if it’s a trick of the light, but she swears she saw Iwaizumi brush his fingers against Oikawa’s forehead with a quiet tenderness he’s only ever shown to her, tucking his hair behind his ears. For some reason, it makes her heart clench.

She’s gathering the discarded clothes up from the floor whilst Iwaizumi’s in the shower, when Oikawa shoots his hand out to grab her wrist. ‘I’m sorry’, he tells her, a plaintive note in his voice. ‘I tore it up – I should never have tried to tell him.’

‘What?’ She gives him a bewildered stare. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Iwa-chan’, he slurs, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath as she moves closer to him to catch his words. ‘He got mad with me, madder than I’ve ever seen him before.’

‘You mean Hajime? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t stay mad with you, whatever it is you’ve done.’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry’, he manages to say, and starts to cry. She flounders, unsure whether to comfort him herself or call for Hajime to deal with him (because she’s not stupid, it’s painfully obvious he resents her), but the look in his eyes is so heartbreakingly vulnerable that she can't bring herself to leave him alone even for a minute, so she sits next to him on the bed, rubbing a soothing hand against his back while he soaks her sleeve with hot tears. ‘You’re drunk and injured, Oikawa-san. You should rest’, she murmurs, easing him back against his pillow when his sobs cease and he seems to calm down.

As she bends down again to pick up his clothes, he gives a cry of alarm and tries to grab her wrist again, almost flipping himself off the bed. Hearing the commotion, Iwaizumi rushes into the room, hair still wet from his shower, barking loudly ‘you idiot’, forcing Oikawa to lie back down onto the bed. She backs out of the room, leaving Hajime to comfort his sobbing friend.

She doesn’t think too much about Oikawa’s strange words, mentally writing it off as another one of his odd little quirks. But as she’s folding up his pants, a stack of torn papers falls out of its pocket, and she thinks she recognises the words ‘Iwa-chan’ scribbled all over it. Though she knows it’s wrong to invade his privacy – especially when he’s in no position to defend it, she can’t help but be curious, reasoning to herself that it must be his best man’s speech, she should at least vet through it once before the wedding.

It isn’t hard to piece the scraps of paper together, the tears uneven, as if made in a fit of panic or rage. It is, as she thought, Oikawa’s best man speech, and it starts out as expected, with well wishes to Iwaizumi and her. But as she continues reading, running her finger over each word, etched so harshly into each page that the ink bleeds, it becomes evident that that isn’t the only thing Oikawa meant to say.

‘I know it’s too late, but I love you, Iwa-chan’, she reads with growing horror on the very last page, a suspicious water stain next to these words. Mind whirling, unable to process what she’s just read, she sits at the kitchen table reading and re-reading his words until her vision starts to blur.

‘There are times I wonder if I chose wrong, if I should have held fast to you, the other half of my soul rather than going off to fight in hopeless wars, because I should have known you won’t always be waiting for me to come home. But I will always love you - like the moon loves the sun, even if I can only watch you from afar, so full of light’.

She should be furious – she should head straight to Oikawa and scream and shout and stamp her foot at him, because how dare he say these things now when he’s had forever to say them to Iwaizumi before she even came into the picture – how dare he wait until she and Iwaizumi are less than ten days away from being wed. But she doesn’t, because deep inside her, she understands.

How can she begrudge his love when they love the same man?

‘Sweetheart’, she faintly hears Iwaizumi say, squinting in the light as he emerges from the dark bedroom. ‘Is everything alright?’ he asks, his voice heavy with concern when he catches sight of her tear stained face.

She wants to tell him that everything’s just fine – but his gaze shifts to the torn papers in her trembling hands and she knows immediately everything is not fine at all when he looks back at her with guilt and anguish branded on his face.

‘Did you know?’ she asks, hating the way her voice starts to break.

‘He told me just now’, he tells her heavily, dropping into the seat across her, his hands cradling his head.

‘Do you love him?’ she demands, ignoring the sob that’s threatening to tear itself out of her chest.

He looks up at her. There are tears in his eyes.

‘Yes’, he admits. ‘I don’t want to, but I do’.

His words knock the oxygen from her lungs, leaving her with a crater in her chest. He loves Oikawa Tooru, this beautiful, brilliant, broken boy, incandescent with the light of a thousand stars.

Where does that leave her?

(Stranded in the dust, abandoned in the dark)

She suddenly feels as if she’s trapped in her own skin, a vise that’s far, far too tight, burning with the need to turn herself inside out. ‘I need to go’, she manages to spit out, stumbling over her feet. He stands in alarm, reaching towards her but she slaps his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me’, she hisses, grabbing her wallet and phone through a haze of tears.

‘Where are you going to go?’ he demands, barring the door with his large frame. ‘It’s late, it’s not safe.’

‘Anywhere that’s not here’, she snarls, trying to shoulder her way through. ‘Let me go, Hajime – I can’t stay here, please, let me go!’ She slams her fists against his chest, collapsing to the floor at his feet when she realises it’s impossible to break through the immovable force that is Iwaizumi Hajime.

‘Let me go somewhere that isn’t here’, she begs him, hiccupping through her tears. ‘You’re hurting me more by making me stay here with him’.

He sinks to his knees to cup her face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry’, he sobs. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I lose you too’.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him he already has ( because she can’t stay, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts), and when her stillness convinces him it’s safe to turn his back to her for a second, she slips through the door and disappears into the night. She hears him shout her name, hears the anguish in his voice, but she doesn’t stop running until she’s safely ensconced in a nearby hotel room.

Her phone keeps buzzing through the night. ‘Iwaizumi Hajime ’, it reads, ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’, flashes on her screen, again and again. She tries her best to ignore it, turning her phone on to silent mode, leaving it face down on the dresser but she can’t - her ears still echoing with the heart wrenching panic in his voice. So she rolls over to her phone and sends him a text – ‘ I’m fine, go to bed, you have a doctor’s appointment with Oikawa to worry about tomorrow morning’ – quickly switching it off before he can flood her inbox with desperate calls and texts.

She tries her best to fall asleep, but she ends up lying awake, counting the cracks in the ceiling. The air in the room is far, far too still, and she feels like she’s suffocating, buried alive from the sand and dirt and earth pouring into the cavity in her chest. Against her better judgment, she uncorks the cheap spirits in the hotel minibar and pours herself shots, one after another, until she drops off to sleep with a single thought swirling around her head.

The universe isn’t fair - because first it gave her Hajime, then it took him away.

It is noon when she wakes, sunlight streaming mercilessly into the room. She sits up with a groan, rubbing a hand across her face. For a second, she wonders where she is, the monochrome sheets so different from the cheerful patterns she uses in their room, before reality slams into her like a comet to her chest.

Right. That happened .

She can scream and cry and try to scratch the face of fate but it won’t change matters. Hiding away from the world isn’t going to make the cruel joke that is her love life go away, so she grits her teeth and steels herself, washing her face and paying the bill before heading home (though if she’s honest with herself, she’s not sure if it’ll be home for much longer).

She prays to god or whatever deity there is out there (not the universe, it has a funny way of throwing shit her way) that Iwaizumi wouldn’t be home, but whatever it is, it’s definitely not listening because Iwaizumi opens the front door while she’s still struggling with her keys. It takes just one look at him for the pain in her chest to make its presence felt again.

‘How’s Oikawa’s knee?’ she casually inquires, edging around him to slip into the flat. Oikawa doesn’t seem to be around, so she lets herself relax just an inch.

‘It’s fine’, he responds, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Just needs some rest’.

‘That’s good’, she says absently, heading straight for the kitchen, ignoring him as he follows her steps. ‘Have you eaten?’ she asks, pulling leftover rice and dashi stock out of the fridge. He nods dumbly as she heats them both up to assemble two bowls of Ochazuke . Her heart may be broken, but her stomach certainly isn’t, and she’s not about to let herself wither away. He looks at her dumbly as she slides his bowl at him, and neither of them says a word until she leans back in her chair, satisfied with her meal.

‘Are we going to talk?’ he asks her confusedly.

‘About last night? What is there left to talk about?’ she replies, keeping her composure firm. ‘The wedding’s off obviously, so we need to inform all our vendors and guests as soon as possible. I think I should be the one to move out of the flat – ‘

He cuts her off frantically – ‘What? Why would we call off our wedding? I still love you, and you still love me, don’t you?’

She gapes at him incredulously. ‘Hajime, you told me last night that you love Oikawa. How is our marriage going to work if you love someone else?’

‘But I love you’, he says, his voice cracking. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

No it isn’t, and she’s shaking her head because it isn’t enough, it’s never going to be enough, because he may love her but he’s in love with him – has been since they were little boys with stars in their eyes. And his shoulders shake and it’s his turn to cry because he loves her, he really does, he knows greed is a sin but he wants both him and her, and he wishes that it could be enough.

‘I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you’, she tells him, eyes dry, but there’s a tremble in her voice that she can’t hide - because she’s so stupid, she should have figured this out long before she dug out her heart and handed it to him - but then again maybe she didn’t because she was blinded by staring too long at the sun.

‘You will grow to resent me if I keep him from you and besides, how could I possibly compare?’

Because Oikawa Tooru, blessed with innate brilliance and cursed with a penchant for self-immolation, burns brighter than a thousand stars.

‘I’m sorry’, he tells her, rounding the table to drop to his knees before her, the look in his eyes so heartbreakingly sad that she has to choke back a sob. ‘You meant the world to me’, he whispers brokenly as he buries his face in her lap.

‘I know’, she answers him – and gods, her heart is screaming and it hurts - but she loves him so much she knows it’s only right to let him go. ‘But the world will move on, and you need to chase the stars while you still have them in your sight’.

At this, he lets out a quiet cry, and this time she gives in and joins him, her tears soaking his hair. He wraps his arms around her as she presses kisses into his skin and they stay that way for a while, their limbs entwined, because it finally dawns on both of them that this is it - it truly is the end of them.

The sun may set and the moon may rise, but the stars - they burn bright in the sky.

Her love for him should die (from earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust) – but it doesn’t.

She packs her life into cardboard boxes and shifts into her sister’s flat. Iwaizumi doesn’t allow her to pay for the cancellation of their wedding, takes all responsibility for informing their guests that the wedding’s off - he says it’s his fault after all, and she doesn’t resist, knowing it’s his way of trying to make amends.

His face crumples and he tries to refuse her when she returns his ring, but she insists - because it doesn’t feel right, she can’t seem to smile when the silver band catches the sun's light. He doesn’t tell her he keeps it in a box beside his bed, and opens it from time to time.

Oikawa manages to weasel her sister’s address out of Iwaizumi and appears on her doorstep the day before he’s due to return to Argentina with a bushel of white lilies in his arms.

‘Wait!’ he cries, catching the door with his foot as she tries to slam it into his face, cursing the reflexes of a professional athlete. ‘I won’t take too much of your time’, he promises, and she folds her arms, glaring at him expectantly.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve treated you and Hajime terribly, haven’t I’, he asks her shamefacedly.

‘You have’, she tells him coldly, because she desperately wants to blame him for everything bad that's come her way but when he hangs his head, she can’t help but soften her tone. ‘But I understand, Oikawa. How could I blame you when I love the same man?’

‘I don’t deserve your kindness’, he responds quietly, after a pause.

‘But you have it’, she tells him. ‘So live and be happy, for his and my sake’.

When he leaves, she closes the door and sinks to the floor, burying her nose in his offering of lilies. Its scent is cloying sweet, but she can only taste the bitterness of ash in her mouth.

A year later, and she’s back covering the Japanese men’s volleyball season when she runs into one Iwaizumi Hajime again.

He is the first to speak, asking her a genial ‘how are you’, to which she replies ‘fine’, though she really means - ‘I may be wounded, but I am still standing on my feet’. But Iwaizumi understands - he always does , and they stay silent for a while.

She picks up the courage to ask after Oikawa, and she knows he’s trying his best not to light up as he tells her that though he’s back in Argentina, they’re pursuing a long distance relationship. In turn, she tells him about her new boyfriend, ruefully mentioning that though she tried to stay clear of volleyball boys, Akaashi Keiji not only used to play volleyball in high school, but is the best friend (and former setter) of Bokuto Koutaro, national team player and self-proclaimed ace. He laughs at that - but she does not mention it is a relationship born out of the heartbreak reflected in both of their eyes.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks her before they part. It’s ironic because these are the first words he’s ever said to her, but she swallows the memory and this time she responds truthfully.

‘It’s a work in progress and I’m getting there, one day at a time’.

They exchange bittersweet smiles.

It’s enough for now.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu fic rec #haikyu x reader #oikawa x iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa angst #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi scenarios

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ninzied · 3 years

Photo

that which we call a rose

based on the prompt: a hello/goodbye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

happy valentine’s day, kastle fam!

On the second Thursday of every month, Karen can’t help the extra spring in her step. There’s no point in trying to hide it—she does have an office adjacent to Matt’s, after all—but until she knows what it even is, she’ll let her friends draw their own conclusions.

This month is no exception.

“So…hot date tonight?” asks Foggy, precisely ten minutes after Matt’s said goodbye. Though Foggy’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, he’s clearly been waiting all day to spring the question on her. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in this morning. And that was before we even had coffee. What gives?”

“Not a date,” says Karen lightly. “But a something.”

“Wait.” Foggy looks up from his briefcase, dropping every pretense now. “Yeah? That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Karen.”

She looks a little bemusedly at him. “Thanks, Foggy, but it’s not a big deal. Just takeout and whatever’s on TV tonight, probably.”

“Hey,” says Foggy. “Not gonna lie, but that sounds pretty appealing right now.”

Karen lets out a laugh. “Why? What’s stopping you and Marci?”

“You know how she gets about this kind of thing.” Foggy glances at his watch, and groans. “Shoot. I still have to pick up flowers. I can’t afford to be late—literally. This place had like a five-month wait list for tonight, and I think there’s a surcharge if we hold up one of their tables.” He throws her a rueful smile. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” says Karen, in a tone that she hopes will come across as commiserating rather than slightly confused. Was there some memo about today that she missed?

“And you have a good ‘not a date but a something,��” says Foggy, practically beaming at her. “You can”—he gives a comical wag of his eyebrow—”not tell me all about it tomorrow, sound good?”

“Sure,” says Karen, smiling distractedly. She waits until Foggy has gone, the door closed securely behind him. And then she picks up her tiny desk calendar, which she’d forgotten to flip over to February, and looks down at today’s date.

Oh. God.

…

The signs are everywhere, on her walk home from the subway.

For the life of her, Karen doesn’t know how she could’ve missed them before. Paper hearts plastered on storefront windows. Floral shops spilling out onto the sidewalks. Restaurants boasting their two-for-one specials. And the couples. All the couples, wherever she turns.

By the time she’s at her apartment, Karen is nearing levels of genuine panic.

She hangs up her work clothes as if on autopilot. She pulls on a worn pair of leggings and a soft, oversized sweater before pausing to reconsider, and then she changes out of that too. This isn’t just any second Thursday of the month anymore.

She checks her phone, in case Frank has canceled.

She does have a text from him, but all it says is that he’s running about a half hour late—his latest demolition site is all the way up in the Bronx, and traffic is a bitch right now—but how does she feel about Vietnamese for dinner?

There’s no doubt in her mind that the day has not occurred to him either.

Perfect. I’ll be ready with the wine, she sends back, and immediately wonders what has come over her. Beer would’ve been the more appropriate choice for this very much not-a-date, and besides that, they never drink wine together. Whiskey, sometimes, but they’d finished off her last bottle of Maker’s the last time he was here.

Wine is different. Wine means something. Right?

What was she thinking?

And what on earth is she supposed to wear?

…

Karen answers the door an hour later, back in her sweater and leggings. She breathes a small sigh of relief to find Frank there in his typical attire—jeans, with a faded black henley, and a crooked half-grin as he steps over the threshold into her apartment.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he says back, like it’s just another day. Like this is just another dinner for them to catch up. He holds up a bag and says, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She reaches for the food so he can get out of his coat, but he waves her gently off.

“’S’okay, I got it.” He looks at her, his gaze going warm. “Think you said there’d be wine?”

And just like that, the rest of her anxiety melts away. There’s still a light flutter of nerves in her stomach, but that’s something else.

Something that she’s always going to feel whenever she’s around him, whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not.

…

Despite how casually Frank is dressed, there’s always a sense of formality to the way he moves around in her place. Like he’s not quite sure whether he’s intruding or not.

He carefully folds his jacket over the back of her couch before taking the food to her kitchen, unpacking each dish as she pulls out the wine.

She tells him about work—minus Foggy’s theories on how she planned to spend her evening—and Frank doesn’t say much, but she knows that he’s listening, attentive to her as ever.

Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine is when he starts to loosen a little, leaning his elbows onto the counter, swiping the last bite of spring roll from her plate.

He tells her small stories about how work has been going for him, and each time she laughs he ducks his head down, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

They end up eating half the food before realizing they’re still standing in her kitchen.

Frank takes their wine to the couch, and she turns the TV on at low volume, flipping aimlessly through the channels.

They settle on a cooking show, which would’ve surprised her one year ago, before these Thursday night dinners. Before he teased her for the one frying pan that she owned and resigned himself to eating takeout from then on. Before they learned to laugh about things like what Matt said at work that day, or the fact that Frank hasn’t had to kill anyone with a sledgehammer. Not recently, anyway.

“All right,” he says, pointing at the pasta on her TV screen. “Next month, we’re doing this at my place for a change, and I’m making you that.”

She doesn’t know why she does it.

Maybe it’s his casual reference to next times. Maybe it’s how closely they’ve wound up sitting together, with her thigh snug against his, the arm he’s draped warmly over the back of the couch right behind her.

Maybe it’s the way this not-so-random Thursday in February feels as though it could become something like every day, for them.

“Deal.” She puts a hand on his knee without even thinking about it, smiling as she tells him, “All right, I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Okay,” says Frank, turning to smile back at her.

It happens so fast, so instinctively that before she knows what she’s doing, she’s leaning in, and pressing her mouth briefly to his as she stands from the couch.

Like this is an everyday kind of thing for them too, kissing each other before one of them’s about to leave the room.

Karen makes it down the hall without any memory of how her legs have carried her there. Oh God. Oh God.

Her cheeks are flaming when she shuts the bathroom door behind her.

…

After splashing water on her face, and dabbing it dry with shaky hands, she looks in the mirror and wills every last part of her being to get a freaking grip. This is Frank, and she can be honest with him. Even if it means being honest with herself.

She knows what this is. She knows what she wants it to be. And she’s done letting either of them think that anything less is going to be enough for her.

Karen takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.

…

She hadn’t been gone long, but apparently it was long enough.

The TV’s shut off, their wine glasses cleared from the coffee table. He’s not on the couch.

He’s not—anywhere in her living room.

But as she moves closer, she sees his coat still folded there, and then she hears the sound of movement in the kitchen. She doesn’t know whether she’s more relieved or apprehensive at the prospect of facing him right now, but she supposes she’s grateful she even has the option to decide between the two.

Frank’s clearing the counter, so she can’t get a good read on his face. He’s quiet, though, brows creased together even more somberly than usual, and the fact that he won’t meet her eye should tell her everything he’s not saying out loud.

Their leftovers are stacked neatly next to the takeout bag. He slides the bag out of her way as she picks up the food containers, storing them in her fridge. There’s a six-pack of beer on one of the lower shelves, the bottles clinking together as she closes the door.

“Frank,” she says, careful not to look over at him, “I think we should talk about what we’re doing here.”

He swallows audibly. And then he says, “Yeah. I know.”

She glances at him, wishing she weren’t as surprised as she feels. She’d expected more resistance from him, if not outright denial. It’s unfair of her, she knows; Frank’s abysmal track record notwithstanding, he’s still here, despite the fact that she’d just snuck a kiss out of him without his permission. That has to mean something.

Right?

God love him, though, but he can’t seem to keep his hands still. He grips the edge of the counter, and then reaches into the takeout bag, a rustle of paper and plastic that echoes overloudly in the silence between them.

Karen presses her lips together, biting back a refrain about how now is probably not the time for dessert.

Instead, Frank pulls out a small bouquet of white roses.

She stares as he sets them down on the counter. When he looks up at her, it’s with an intensity that nearly knocks her off her feet, and she grips the counter edge too in order to steady herself.

His gaze is unwavering on hers. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

She blinks at him, a part of her still wondering if it’s wrong of her to hope. “You have?”

“More than anything.” He shifts closer, and now she can see the last of the fear in him too, how he’s finally reached past it for something—for more. The edge of her own fear starts to soften, giving way to that fluttering lightness only Frank can make her feel.

Karen steps forward, marveling at the shared heat between them without their bodies actually touching. “And what, exactly, have you been thinking?”

Frank brings his hand up to the back of her neck, and she closes her eyes as he pulls her in.

He kisses her, and it’s everything Karen has wanted, everything she could only pretend that she hadn’t been waiting for all this time. He kisses her, and she knows how long he’s been wanting, and how hard he’s been waiting for this too.

He draws in a hoarse breath when they part. “I wanted to get this right,” he murmurs.

“Well,” says Karen, trying—failing—not to smile, “you want to know what I think?”

He tightens his arms around her. “What?”

“I think this is a good place to start,” she says, and leans in to kiss him again.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork

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t1ght3rr · 2 years

Text

dating s1 mandy milkovich could include...

tw for smut and angst.

-you’d first met through ian

-they always hung out and you figured mandy must be pretty cool since ian was so chilled out

-turns out she had the same idea and you bonded instantly

-suddenly you were both seeing less of ian and more of eachother

-not like that mattered because he was infatuated with mandy’s older brother anyway

-you did basically everything together

-painted each others nails, dyed your hair, gossiped, shared clothes, went shopping, blasted music

-you both loved pierce the veil, ayesha erotica, mars argo, mitski, flyleaf, bring me the horizon, depeche mode, deftones and so much more

-anyone who missed the whispered declarations of love and passionate make out sessions would’ve thought you were just good friends

-and she was definitely your best friend, with the added bonus of really good sex and cuddling

-your first kiss was more amazing than you ever could have imagined -you had both been blasting music again and she’d been flirting with you

-she inched closer and closer to you on the bed before she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips

-when you both pulled away for air she was almost glowing with happiness

-she was always so supportive

-would kick anyone’s ass if they even looked at you funny

-you’d always defend eachother if someone had a problem

-she loved it when you sat on her lap

-if you were cuddled up next to her most of the time she would pull you into her lap so you could straddle her

-she loved to kiss you in that position

-mickey made fun of you both but it was only teasing. he would always support you both no matter what

-the boys were glad to have you both happy and out of the way at first

-until they walked into you both making out and almost having sex in every room of the milkovich house

-“terry’s gonna catch you fuckers one day” mickey had warned but you just laughed and gave him the finger

-it was ironic since you’d been on a couple double dates with ian and mickey already

-they were definitely a thing together but mickey would never admit it

-probably a good thing since terry had just gotten out of prison again

-“fuck off with that lesbo shit” mickey teased as he and ian walked through the front door to see you both on the couch

-“go and do ass sex with carrot top” mandy snapped, and you both laughed at him as ian’s face paled and mickey stomped off angrily

-you’d been together for weeks but she was the first to say i love you

-you’d both gotten really drunk together and once the high had worn off you were both sobbing into eachothers necks

-“i appreciate you so much y/n. i love you so much” she had cried to you

-she had pulled away when you didn’t respond instantly

-but the panicked look in her eyes dissipated when you said “it’s okay, i love you too. so much.”

-everything only seemed to get better after that

-ian said that you two had the closest bond he had ever seen -so when your first argument came they were both all the more confused

-mandy was an angel usually so getting on her bad side was hell for everyone

-“the hell is going on? they’ve never fought before” mickey had asked ian as you and mandy screamed at eachother in front of the couch

-“MANDY!” mickey had shouted. his voice could literally wake the dead.

-you both snapped out of your fighting to look at him

-“WHAT?!“ she had screamed at him

-“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded. Ian was trying to look stern behind him but definitely failing.

-“Y/n heard that I let that dumb bitch Sophie use my eyeliner and now she’s JEALOUS” mandy turned to glare at you

-“i am not JEALOUS mandy you just shouldn’t let other people use your makeup!!” you had screamed back

-mickey rubbed his eyebrow in frustration

-“Will both of you shut the fuck up? You’re annoying the shit out of everybody.” he walked away, sick of your arguing

-you would never hit eachother it was mostly just shouting and catfighting

-ian and mickey started to get worried when the screaming ceased and you had both been silent for hours

-they went to check on you both just for them to walk into the most vicious make up sex in the history of forever

-“Eurgh fucking hell!” they yelled, slamming the door shut

-not like you two cared

-she’s definitely a top but always down for you take control sometimes

#mandy milkovich #fanfic #shameless us #shameless #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher

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harringtonheartache · 3 years

Text

Daybreak | Chapter Twenty-Three

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Let’s go home. Nice things are waiting.

Word Count: tiny bit less than 4,000

Warning(s): Cussing

A/N: This is like when someone brings you a cake to make up for something bad they’ve done. Here is my cake. I’ve missed you. Sorry it’s been a while.

Hopper had won another argument. A short exchange — neither player combative enough for the conversation to reach its full potential — but an argument nonetheless. The day’s events had wrung both Hopper and Steve dry. And yet both of them trudged along — literally, trudged, as they were still ankle-deep in water — one of them with a teenage girl slumped in their arms, the prize of the argument.

Steve, arms empty, pawed his wet palms against his jeans. He staggered, having taken an awkward step, then sprung forward with extra vigor in his hops. Pushing himself to his toes and then walking on them for a few steps to get a steady look, he peered over Hopper’s arms at Nine. His eyes tracked her breath for a moment, and he fell back on the flats of his feet after he was sure there was both a rise and a fall somewhere underneath her clothes.

His lack of true energy caught back up to him, his momentary escape like a failed run from a captor. He fell back into pace with his past self, slugging a few steps behind the other two he had entered the void with. He went off-road and landed behind Joyce, her own unconscious person draped over her arms and tight to her chest. Steve placed a hand against her shoulder, and smiled at the woman when she turned back to look at him.

Jonathan sat tensely on his living room couch. The gun he had used in the battle of two hours ago was cold and greasy in his hands, and his eyes drifted around the room ever so often before snapping back to the black void in front of him. The house was ominously quiet, dressed like a crime scene with furniture tossed and broken around him. Maybe he should have straightened things up a bit. It would be more ideal for Will to return home to a familiar sight, and he wasn’t accustomed to seeing his house wrecked and littered with his own missing posters. In Jonathan’s routine glance around the room, he eyed beneath his feet the papers printed with his little brother’s face and kicked a few backward to be concealed beneath the couch.

Suddenly, like an unexpected shout, he was no longer alone in his house as Steve appeared staggering through the hole in the wall. Jonathan stood promptly, like a soldier reporting for duty, and his wistful eyes blinked hopefully as he waited for more to arrive. In his uncoordinated arrival, Steve tripped half-way, catching himself with quick feet and moving aside to make way for the others. He looked to Jonathan and Jonathan looked back. All Steve offered was an honest smile.

Joyce appeared next, much more steadily, and with a child-sized bundle in her arms. Was it really Will? Jonathan just starred for a moment, paused. Loading. Could his missing brother really just materialize before him like this, a return as curious as the disappearance? Joyce stepped slowly around Jonathan and leaned down to lay Will on the couch. It was then that he managed a look at the bundle’s face, and surely saw his brother. Drained of color, his face was a startling grey and his hair a wet slap across his forehead. He barely looked like his missing poster anymore — not that anyone else could have found him anyway. It was Joyce’s embrace that managed to pull Jonathan from his still position looming over Will. “He’s home,” she said in his ear.

Hopper swung his right leg into the Byers’ home and then pulled his left behind him slowly to keep his balance. In his arms the girl stay quiet, silenced by an unconsciousness strong enough to ignore the bumpy ride. Her legs dangled over his arms as he turned swiftly to eye the wall behind him. As he took a few steps backward, the black void began to shrink and he sighed. “Yes, please. Go,” he said restlessly, dropping his head and then picking it back up to look for a place to set Nine down.

Jonathan turned to look at Hopper as he fumbled around the living room. He tossed the girl up a little to keep her from sliding out of his arms.

“Is-” Jonathan dropped an arm from around his mom. “Is that Nine?”

Nine woke up feeling worn. Her hands reanimated before the rest of her body and felt around aimlessly, confined beneath tight sheets. She managed to open only one eye at first, but then the second blinked open and she was lying in a bedroom that looked abnormally still. The lights were off, but it didn’t feel as though they were that way for sleeping. The space seemed empty. Whoever was here last must have hit the light switch on their way out, assuming they were leaving it uninhabited. But I am here, Nine thought, and then she looked down at herself to confirm. There was a figure of some kind underneath the blankets and so she assumed it must be her body. The room was a dull color, modest window light turning it that way. A cool breeze wandered over her cheeks and she looked forward, waiting for a fog to roll into vision around her as it had in the void.

Surely that was where she was. The concept of her own presence became a vague idea in her mind and she closed her eyes again to let it be. Against her better wishes, her brain was committed to consciousness, and more thoughts began leaking through the barrier of sleepiness. A little bit more coherent, each one, until she pieced together a name: Will.

Nine lifted her head and then her shoulders, sitting up on her elbows hastily. The tiredness had washed away in an instant. Her vision blurred as if to punish her for such sudden movement, and she reached a hand to her shutting eyes to rub sight back into them.

“Nine,” a voice said. It was quiet, but unexpected, and for that she flinched. Turning toward the sound, she blinked rapidly, now demanding her eyesight back. She began to make out a chair at her bedside and a person occupying it. How had she missed this before?

Her sight now clearing, she saw Steve staring widely back at her.

She turned her head to look for the fog, certain it had to have formed around her by now. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself, sitting up fully. Her hands were pulled from her sides and she placed her palms against her eyes as she hunched over herself, begging — for once — reality to set in.

“Hey, you okay?” the voice asked and she turned to see Steve standing up from the chair. She had flinched again. Looking over the boy she was convinced existed only in her mind, Nine held her breath.

They were both confused, Nine more so in a daze while Steve dealt with the responsibility of full clearheadedness. He looked at her, himself both awkward and unexplainably nervous, and opened his mouth, sure he should speak. Not another word left him however, and he blinked at her as he stood still, painfully uncertain of himself.

With an unsteady hand, Nine reached in front of herself to touch Steve. Expecting him to turn to mist, she gripped his shoulder tightly when it stayed solid beneath her hand. Her fingers brushed his skin where it crept out from his shirt’s neckline. “You’re really here?” she asked, her voice delicate.

“... Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m really here.”

A smile cracked on Nine’s face and Steve appreciated it for a moment before he was pulled forward. Arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly and let out the breath she’d held. “Holy shit,” she whispered into his skin. A hand absentmindedly clenched onto the fabric of his shirt as if to keep him from floating away. Wrapping himself around her back, he laughed lightly at her words.

Nine laughed too, and then let him go to lean back and look again at his face — more real now than before. She tried to pull herself together — sniffing, wiping her wet eyes — and Steve gave her the privacy of pretending not to notice. “Where is… here?” she asked, her voice more confident now as she chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

“Oh, um, the Byers’ house. This is Jonathan’s room, he offered it to you.”

Nine smiled as she looked over the room. It seemed more luminous now than it had when she first awoke. Posters on the wall, a record player by the window, a camera on the nightstand. Things appeared to her now that hadn’t before.

“He’s Will’s brother,” Steve clarified, realizing he’d be nothing more than a name to her.

She looked back to him. “And… and Will?”

“He’s here, too. He’s safe.”

Nine grinned widely and let out a huff of air so deep in her chest she felt hollow when it was gone. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Steve grabbed for her hand and held on tight. “You’re both safe,” he said, the words sweetened by his delivery. Letting herself fall back against the pillows, Nine’s eyes danced across the ceiling as she squeezed his hand.

“You’re remarkably good at saving me,” she drawled.

“As are you at saving others,” he spoke back gracefully.

Nine made a noise of disagreement, sitting up and shaking her head. “I can’t take credit for Will, we’d both be gone if you didn’t show up to pick me up off the ground.”

Steve laughed. “Mmh. Yeah, you can’t win this argument.” He bowed his head and smirked. “You sacrificed yourself to a mysterious force within a black void. Please. Take credit.”

The two laughed.

“Team effort,” Nine responded.

“Fine, whatever you say,” he murmured softly, raising his eyebrows in mock compliance. “but you carried the weight.”

Nine smiled. His charm had a way of healing her, settling into weak spots and turning them whole. She just smiled.

“Hey, um…” Steve started, letting go of her hand. A breeze from outside drifted across his skin and it almost startled him — he had forgotten the window was open. “Can I, uh. Can I tell you something?”

Nine navigated so that her legs were folded in front of her. She looked at him curiously as he sat before her: eyes drifting away from her own, expression unreadable. Like a cut from a dull blade, anxiety began to set in.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, her voice a little quieted.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Steve shifted so that he faced her more easily. A buzzing sensation on the back of his neck forced him to continue.

“I like you,” he said, choked and fast like the words had been squeezed out of him.

“Um…” Nine’s response drifted off. Of course he likes her, she thought this had already been established. He likes her and she likes him, this was surely not a confession. “I… like you too,” she told him, brows twitching, her answer more or less a guess as to what kind of response would be appropriate. Her face was tinted with confusion, and Steve looked away from it and to his lap as he considered how to continue; how to correct. He thought for a moment, eyes trained on his hands, and let himself imagine dropping the conversation here, unsure if he had enough bravery in him to mend his ambiguous delivery.

“Well, um, that was- that was bad… wording. Um- what I mean is that…”

What did he mean, exactly? He liked her. His original wording floated around in his head, and he cursed himself for trying to simplify his feelings. It was more than a quiet fondness, he knew that, and his initial choice of confession suddenly felt entirely elementary.

“I don’t…” he swallowed, trying to clear his throat and therefore his mind. He still watched his hands, and they started to fold together in a slow restlessness. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted, and Nine dipped her head as she picked up on his nervous solemnity.

She began to fear a little, and twisted herself further in an attempt to get a look at his face.

“I like you in a different way than how a friend likes a friend,” he started. God, he hated how juvenile he sounded. There had to be a better way to put this. “I just-”

He pulled his head up now, and gazed up into her eyes from his still folded composure. He just looked a moment. At her; her face and her cheeks and her quirked eyebrow and her eyes. “I love you,” he finally spoke. It came from his mouth soft, sweet, saccharine. So calmly it could only be a fact.

His eyes gleamed with an anxiousness she’d never seen in him as he blinked at her. But he smiled, a soft twitch of his lips, and it only further authenticated his words.

“And I know,” he started, his eyes retreating to his lap. “I know that might be kind of confusing. Or- or maybe it’s obvious, I was told that it is, but I wanted to tell you,” he said, eyes dragging back to her face now. “I wanted you to know.”

Nine watched as he looked away from her yet again. Her lips parted lightly — unsure — and she almost began to panic. A necessity from within rose: she wanted to grab him, save him from a retreat. Wait. A silence settled that from the outside looked serene; an open window, the silhouette of two sitting side-by-side, calmness. But neither of them were calm.

Steve’s hands still tangled with one another, and it reminded Nine of herself. She reached out cautiously, like she wasn’t sure it was the right move, but placed a hand with purpose overtop of his own. They stilled, and she won back his eye contact.

“What does that… mean?” She didn’t want to ask, felt she had done enough of that in her time out of the lab, but she needed to understand. This wasn’t a conversation that she could just nod her way through, smile in fake understanding and ponder it later. There was a weight to the words Steve spoke, and while she felt like she did understand somewhere she couldn’t pinpoint right now, she had to be sure of it.

Steve smiled at her. Facing the window, the sun lit half of his face in a yellow beam, and without words he looked over her face for another moment.

“I love you,” he said again gently, whispered almost, and with another smile. “By every meaning.”

Nine’s mouth cracked into a small smile, too; knowing, coy. Her eyebrows dipped in a moment of lasting curiosity.

“You showed up so unexpectedly, just standing in front of my car. And I was so confused. I didn’t understand any of what was happening but I wanted to help you,” Steve said admiringly. His tongue curled in his mouth, apprehensive for a second until he was lost in the story, dedicated again.

“So I hid you in my house, under my bed. It seems so goddamn ridiculous now”.

He grinned to himself, a huff of air close to a laugh leaving him.

“And we went shopping, and we went to the arcade. You met the kids. Yeah, the underlying situation was a bit abnormal but things felt right. Like you were supposed to end up standing in the road in the pouring rain and I was supposed to almost- almost hit you with my car.” Steve chuckled, wiped his nose with a sniff. His eyebrows drew in for a second, like he had just remembered something troubling.

“But at some point, all of a sudden, it wasn’t about helping a random girl, anymore.”

He dragged his bottom lip underneath the grasp of his top teeth, raked the two together as he shook his head.

“I don’t even know when it happened, really. It was something like an alarm going off in my head; I realized that I wasn’t just being a good samaritan, I genuinely cared about you. To the point where it started to scare me. And maybe it still does, but you were here with me and then gone so quickly. Just ripped from my life. That first time it happened — when they grabbed you right from my car — Jesus, I couldn’t believe how fucking petrified I was. How angry at myself I got.”

Steve paused, pulling himself back to shore before he drowned in his own sensibility.

“And no one else, besides Dustin, would even know. I had no power, no assurance that I’d see you again. It’s like, Hawkins’ didn’t know about you before, so what would stop you from disappearing? My parents, friends. No one would even know someone so important to me was gone. I’d have to live with that- that hard pit in my stomach that I knew where you were, I knew what they were doing to you, and I couldn’t fucking do anything about it.

And then we got you back.

Hopper wanted to question you, and I guess what else would a sheriff do in that situation? But I just wanted him gone. I didn’t want him to bother us. Or bother you, specifically. I just wanted to watch movies and sleep until noon. Wake up to you. Act like there were no problems because the idea of something else happening where I couldn’t shield you or you were put in a situation where- where you were in pain… that wasn’t something I could handle anymore. I mean, fuck, you were gone for a day and when I saw the bruises on your arms from when you were dragged away…”

Steve stopped, as if catching himself from saying too much. Which was ridiculous, he realized, because he seemed to be spilling everything in his head.

“Then you were taken again. From here. I didn’t even know if you were alive. I had to tell myself that you were, just to keep going long enough to find out. I was angry at myself again, thought I should have given Hopper an easier time. Maybe he could have figured something out, done something before we got as far as we did, I don’t know. I was angry at myself and I was angry at him and I felt like… ‘this is the end!’.

But it wasn’t, and now that you’re back…”

Steve drifted off, searching for a way to verbalize the feeling he’d been sick with.

“I don’t know. That alarm has been blaring in my head for a long time, and I’m not good at ignoring it. I can’t keep hitting ‘snooze’. It happened so quickly, but I can’t go back to living without you.”

The buzzing on the back of Steve’s neck faded. With the conclusion of his confession, feeling a little tipsy on adoration, he looked to Nine.

She blinked once, eyes wide, mouth twisted as if she couldn’t decide if she should smile or frown. Steve had only a moment to feel sorry for himself before she stole his attention from his rushing thoughts with the most tender, closed-mouthed grin. Dimples poked holes in her cheeks and his face reddened.

“I love you, too,” she said. And she was sure she did, because she understood now.

“I was terrified of you, at first…” she continued with a smile. “I was terrified of everything. Being sent back. Waking up and realizing that I had never escaped. But it became obvious that you didn’t- that you wouldn’t hurt me. That you were good. I let myself relax, and I began to feel content for the first time. Happy.”

Nine’s cheeks were red now, too. Feeling the warmth on her face, she looked downward. Steve’s eyes followed, head tilting, unable to help himself.

She shook her head as less pleasant thoughts arose, keeping her gaze on her lap a moment longer.

“We went into the woods: you, Dustin and I, and you got hurt by that thing. I felt like it was my fault. I started to think everything was my fault. If I’d never gotten out, that monster wouldn’t have either. Will wouldn’t have gone missing. You wouldn’t be forced to hide me in your room and you wouldn’t have been attacked by that thing that night. I was endangering you and everyone around you. But at the same time, the thought of going back was still… horrifying. It felt like I couldn’t safely belong anywhere.

But you seemed like you wanted me here. Not to use me or to- to study me or something. That was scary, too. You told me that you didn’t care that you weren’t safe because helping me was that important to you, and I didn’t know how to handle that.”

With a look of honest worry, Nine returned her gaze to Steve’s eyes for the first time since she started speaking.

“Sometimes it’s easier to be feared, you know? It certainly felt more fitting. And it was all I had been up until that point.

But I realized how much I cared about you, too. I didn’t… understand why you reciprocated that feeling, and until then I was able to brush it off like you didn’t.”

Nine chewed at her tongue, looking off to give herself a chance to collect her thoughts and find her place in her head again.

“I was taken back there and all I could think about was what you were doing. Part of me kept telling myself you were better off, that I was selfish for wanting to go back, but being at the lab was so much worse after feeling so liberated. It wasn’t just that I had escaped, it was that I had found you.”

She paused, finding Steve’s eyes again.

“...The second time — the void — I woke up in that dark place and called your name. I knew you weren’t there, but I said it out loud anyway. More than once. I need you, too. I love you, Steve.”

Sickly-sweet was the smile that bloomed on Steve’s face, and Nine mirrored the expression with love-filled eyes. A few seconds passed, silence from both of them as they let one another’s words fill the space.

“Have you… ever been kissed?” Steve asked quietly, almost embarrassed by the question. Nine grinned again, drawing in a gentle breath before shaking her head ‘no’.

“Can I kiss you?”

There was a single beat of silence before she responded.

“Yes,” she said earnestly.

Steve leaned forward, raising a hand to brush his fingertips gently across Nine’s jaw. He looked to her eyes and then her lips, and they twitched into a delicately-strung smile. Her cheeks were still rosy from the heat of it all, and the sight brought upon Steve the sudden urge to tell her how beautiful she was. Maybe he’d realized he had never been brave enough to let her know sooner. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered affectionately, adjusting his hand to better cup her face and closing in with a kiss before she even got the chance to think about his words.

With too much passion between the two for shyness, the kiss was long and rich with love. Their lips pressed together, tender yet heavy, and Nine tasted something implacably sweet on Steve. They separated from one another and caught their breath.

“So are you,” Nine whispered, their faces still close, eyes fluttering to focus on one another.

“Hmm?” Steve purred faintly.

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Steve felt a slanted smile stretch across his lips before he returned them to Nine’s in a loving encore.

---

A/N: Finally, amiright? (;

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Note: I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated (duh). If you want to be removed from this tag list lmk

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #ST fanfic #st fic #*spoiler* jonathan while two teenagers confess their love for one another on his bed: 🧍🏼#ps tell your man he's beautiful friends he deserves it <3

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theyre-just-blocks · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk about Big Q, shall we?

As always, I’ve got stuff to say about Quackity (the character). And after today’s streams, I’ve got a few things to say/point out. I did not stay up to write this 2,343 word character analysis, no I did not.

Right off the bat I noticed how uncharastically quiet Big Q was during the whole thing. He wasn’t streaming it today either (yeah, he streamed later, but still) and I just thought that it was interesting. He had his moments where he was himself (cursing, being loud, taking off his clothes) but there were moments where he was just,, uncharastically quiet.

On top of that, these quiet moments were spent staring at Ranboo. At least, his character was positioned so that it was looking directly at him and it’s rather unnerving, especially with that smiley face skin. Then when Dream reveals Ranboo to be a “traitor” Quackity even said, “I fucking knew it”, so something tells me that he’s been suspecting Ranboo for sometime now.

When they were at the festival too, he was acting odd. On top of staring at Ranboo from time to time, he approached Ranboo about him wearing armor in L’Manburg. Of course, wearing armor in L’Manburg isn’t permitted, but it was raining and Ranboo is half enderman. Quackity seemed to really be angry with Ranboo for breaking that law, albeit he was hiding most of his anger, but I’m sure that Ranboo has worn armor before within the walls of L’Manburg. So why all of a sudden? Why call it out? Then when he asked Tubbo about it and Tubbo said that they could make the exception, Quackity responded with “Alright, whatever you say Mr. President '' in the most passive aggressive voice that even I felt attacked.

On top of that little moment, Quackity excused himself from a Festival game to “go get something”. Granted he didn’t seem to take that long (I didn’t really get a number) but while he was gone he was whispering to Tubbo about when Dream was coming. But I just thought it was weird that he just disappeared like that. When he came back, of course, he didn’t have anything. Not even Tubbo knew what he was doing. But no one seemed to question it at all afterwards.

Let’s also talk about how nervous Big Q seemed about the Dream confrontation. He was clearly worried that Dream might not show. He was nervous, he admitted that he was. When he went up against Techno, someone he’s feared for a while now, he wasn’t nervous. He was confident. He even PVPed him, but all of a sudden with Dream he’s nervous? We’ve seen him stand up to Dream before (Mexican L’Manburg) so why would he be worried about whether Dream shows or not?

And of course, we can’t forget to mention his skin changes. I thought I was seeing things when Quackity’s profile in the list of members on the smp showed up as a frowny face. I thought that was just some kind of glitch or something because it would go back to normal a few seconds later. And I noticed that there seemed to be something wrong with his face. When he would turn, it seemed like his face wasn’t connected. And wouldn’t you know, I wasn’t seeing things. Several times today in the ruined Community House, Quackity had the unnerving frown (and a bald head) and when he was talking to Tubbo about Ranboo, he kept turning and it was very clear that the smiley face is a mask and the true face of Quackity is a frown.

Speaking of his discussion with Tubbo about Ranboo, let’s talk about that whole ordeal, yeah? When I thought they had dropped it, moved past the need to talk about Ranboo’s book and involvement with Techno and Tommy, Big Q drops the bomb by demanding that they execute them. Thank god Tubbo was able to talk some sense into him (PTSD will do that to you), but it was still yet another account of Big Q wanting to see some bloodshed. And he was awfully persistent about it, to the point where it was concerning.

And going back on what I said in a previous post about Big Q always wanting power, right from the elections, I got my confirmation about it in Tubbo’s stream today at an hour and thirty three minutes.

“Tubbo, listen to me. What you need is order, Tubbo. The fucking issue is that there’s no order in L’Manburg. Nothing that’s been happening up to this point has been order... I want what’s best for the country. That’s what I’ve wanted since the very beginning, Tubbo. If not then I wouldn’t have ran! I want to be President Tubbo, I want to do something good”

Whether it’s an obsession with power, a need to maintain order, following governmental ideals, or an actual want to do some good, you can’t deny that Quackity’s character has always wanted power, an opportunity to prove himself. And maybe because L’Manburg keeps failing him, keeps failing to give him those right opportunities to do so, that’s why he leaves. He’s frustrated with the country, so he just...leaves.

And if Quackity’s Greek parallel is indeed Icarus (I think Techno mentioned it once in a stream) then power would be his hubris, his downfall. His want for power and need for order are going to be the sun that’s going to melt his wings. If he is working with Dream to get power, isn’t that the LITERAL definition of “flying too close to the sun”?

Also, this is a little unrelated. But in Bastille’s song “Icarus” there’s a line that goes, “You put up your defenses when you leave. You leave because you’re certain of who you want to be,” and I just think that’s very fitting for Quackity in terms of what just happened.

There was a lot that happened with Big Q’s character today, and seeing as he’s my favorite on the SMP (aside from Sam of course) I was thrilled with today’s streams. But in terms of where these new developments might lead, I’m a little worried. So yeah, I’ve got theories.

We discussed this in the Awesamdude discord, but the possibility of Quackity being a suspect for the destruction of the Community House came up. Here are a few reasons why he is one of the prime suspects (the other being Dream):

Quackity left during the Festival to “go get something” and this could’ve been the perfect chance for him to go and grief the Community House.

Though we know that Dream hates Quackity and Quackity hates Dream, it’s possible that they’ve made a deal. Dream could’ve promised Quackity the power he’s wanted since day one. Whether that be in guaranteeing that El Rapids can remain a country, or after Dream destroys L’Manburg, Quackity can come out on the top. He can have what remains. It would be an easy way out for Quackity after being dismissed time after time again and denied the chance to prove himself and build the ideal government.

That could explain why he was worried about Dream showing up or not. He wasn’t worried about the deal Dream made to Tubbo (showing up without armor), it was more so the deal Dream made with Quackity and getting the power that Dream promised.

Not to mention, it also benefits Dream as well. By getting Quackity on his side by using power as leverage, he’s able to eliminate one of the few threats to him on the SMP. True, I’m sure he’ll betray him in the end/use him, but right now he needs to focus on Tommy and the discs. He needs to get Quackity out of the way, so by siding with him and making a deal, it makes things easier for Dream.

And if Quackity is possessed by Schlatt, Dream was an old ally to Schlatt, so if Schlatt took control during the deal, then it would make sense why it was made.

It’s possible and very likely that this isn’t the case though. They really do seem to hate each other and Quackity is very adamant about killing Dream. But maybe it’s all just an act? Maybe it’s just all a plot to ease sus off of Quackity.

But why and how could Quackity leave his friends like that so easily? Oh boy, lemme tell you..

I will never let go of possession Quackity/Reviving Schlatt AU.

If Quackity is possessed then it would make sense why he’s able to let go of his friends so easily. Schlatt might be manipulating him behind the scenes and thus cause Quackity to lose trust in his friends. Schlatt felt betrayed by everyone (as he should) and might be telling Quackity that the same will happen to him. Quackity even admitted to not trusting Ranboo from the start, and that could be a result of eating Schlatt’s heart and having his influence on him.

Let’s also not forget how ready Quackity was to kill Ranboo. He wanted an execution. He kept repeating “traitor” like a broken record. Tubbo even pointed out the parallel to Quackity that he was doing EXACTLY what Schlatt did to Tubbo at the festival. Quackity himself even said that he was LIVID about Ranboo being a traitor. And even after Tubbo tried to talk sense into him how Ranboo wasn’t a traitor, he just has short term memory, Quackity still referred to himself as such.

It would make sense that Quackity would hate traitors. In terms of his character, he was betrayed by Schlatt. Someone who he thought would love him and help him rule Manburg in a way that would help everyone, his ideal government. But of course, Schlatt was shit and didn’t fulfill those expectations. And then when things did get better, his country betrayed him. Tubbo betrayed him. When Quackity agreed to stand up against Dream and not exile Tommy, Tubbo agreed with him. Then he went against that plan. And L’Manburg didn’t meet up to his expectations. It never did and he never got the power he wanted.

And if Quackity is possessed by Schlatt, that could also explain his whole bit about going on and on about killing the traitor. When Schlatt found Tubbo to be the traitor, we know what happened. He had him executed. That whole scene leading up to his death, he kept saying how everyone left him. When he needed them most, everyone left. He felt betrayed by them, so it makes sense that after finding out that there’s ANOTHER traitor in the cabinet, he’s going to get angry about it. He doesn’t want it happening again.

And with Wilbur’s comment about Schlatt being a lawful evil. He’s going to keep order no matter what it takes. If you’re a traitor, you’re going to get what’s coming to you, so it would make sense that he’d want Ranboo dead as well. And even if that’s not the case, the description of wanting order no matter what fits Quackity’s current character right now.

Now let me add in Dad Schlatt because I have daddy issues.

I like to think that if Quackity is possessed by Schlatt or something, his whole speech to Tubbo before saying he was out and leaving was just Schlatt trying to communicate to his son. He was angry that Ranboo would betray his cabinet and maybe because he wants to be a better dad or something, he wants to make sure the thing that happened to him doesn’t happen to Tubbo. He tells him not to trust anyone, even Quackity (it could be him warning that Quackity and Dream are working together) and that he can’t let people walk all over him. He’s trying to give him advice, trying to guide him to be a better president.

If he wasn’t able to help Tubbo at all when he was alive, maybe this was the one chance that he got to do so.

But more likely, that was just Quackity trying to give Tubbo some last advice before leaving.

Now, maybe he left only to return with a revived Schlatt? Only to watch Doomsday from the sidelines? What is he planning?

And what was up with the frown? I don’t think I’ve seen him keep it on for as long as he did in the past. I had thought that it might’ve been a result of eating Schlatt’s heart, but that wasn’t the case. I went back to look at old videos and sure enough, the frown was underneath the smile. I don’t know if this is something that’s always been there, or if it appeared after a certain event (election maybe?) but I want to know WHY he has it.

Is it just for memes? Is it supposed to symbolize the fact that he puts on this literal mask to appear to be the “funny guy” when that’s not the case?

Or, or, if we’re going off shape-shifter Quackity, what if that’s one of the traits? That magical part of him (being a shapeshifter) could also maybe allude to his personality. He’s going to change to make sure he fits in. If he’s got to act a certain way to get where he needs to be, he’s going to do it. He’s going to change in order to ensure that happens. If Dream says to join him and get power in return, then maybe he’s going to say yes.

And let’s not even talk about the fact how he basically has the same smiley mask as Dream and his real one is the opposite.

Whatever it is though, it caught me off guard today, but it makes for some killer fanart and headcanons, so I loved it (though I was uncomfortable when it happened).

I was going to wait and see how the events played out tomorrow and then talk, but this obviously was already a lot, so it be easier to make predictions now and whatnot and then see what happens tomorrow.

With that being said, I am, scared.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp spoilers #dsmp spoilers #quackity #big q #character analysis #oh man i'm so tired #this is all i thought about today #that might be concerning #but whatever #i put more effort into this than homework haha

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

chapter 34 (part II)

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

part I

again, this isn’t proofread, because I literally wrote it all today, so sorry for any mistakes!

~^~

Lucas feels a little lost. He’s been looking around for what feels like hours, and he can’t find Sander. He hasn’t seen Robbe, either, or their friends Moyo and Aaron.

He isn’t sure if he’s looking for Jens.

He finds himself in the dimly lit bathrooms, and he sighs, lifting his beer to his lips and taking a gulp. He moves to the sinks and glances at himself in the mirror, brushing a hand through his curls. It’s a pointless attempt, trying to coerce them back into place. He gives up fairly quickly and takes another drink. His heart has sped up to the slightly uncomfortable rhythm of intoxicated.

For a moment he just stands there, bottle hanging by his side, and takes a few slow breaths. It doesn’t really do anything to steady his heartbeat, but it helps clear his head a little. This is when he finally takes notice of the humming.

He furrows his brows and spins around, eyeing the closed stall in the corner. Listening more intently, he realises the humming is a quiet singing, and he creeps closer to the stall and stares at the door. From here he can make out a few words, but he doesn’t have to to recognise the voice.

“Jens?”

The singing stops.

Lucas waits, and after a moment, he hears the slide of the lock and the door swings open. It reveals Jens curled up in the cramped space, sitting on the closed toilet with his back to one wall and his feet pressed to the other. He has his own beer cradled in his lap, with his other hand still holding the door open, and he’s staring at Lucas.

Lucas purses his lips to stop them from turning up in a smile. “What are you doing?”

Jens is blushing slightly. He shrugs. “There’s more people now. They were staring at me.”

“So you’re hiding, by singing?”

“I didn’t think there was anyone in here,” he grumbles.

Lucas huffs a laugh, smile coming out in full. “Obviously.” He leans against the door of the stall as Jens rolls his eyes, and tilts his head consideringly. “Why didn’t you come get one of us?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you. Couldn’t find Robbe.”

Lucas hums. “I can’t find them either.”

“No Sander?”

“Nope, up and disappeared.”

Jens sniffs. “On Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s after midnight now, so…”

“Still. Shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

Lucas takes a long breath, quiet enough that Jens doesn’t notice, the musician having resorted to staring at the wall again. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to think about it. Not when Jens is right here. Now when they’re supposed to be giving him a good night. He swallows down his protests and reassurances and instead says, “It’ll be really weird if someone finds you in here.”

“Yeah, but now you’re here.”

“I think that probably makes it weirder,” Lucas points out, smiling again. Jens doesn’t respond, and he sighs, knocking his fist on the stall door before turning on his heel. “Come on.”

He hears Jens scrambling after him with a small sound of protest. “What? I don’t wanna go back out there.”

“So we won’t. Well, we’ll just pass through.”

“Where are we going, then?”

Lucas looks around at him and raises his brows, pushing through the door back out to the bar. “Wherever you want.”

Slowly, Jens smiles.

They weave their way through the crowd, Jens sticking close behind him, so close that Lucas can feel his heat. He’s almost sure Jens actually has a hand curled in the back of his shirt, can feel the knuckles brushing against his spine. He ignores it and leads them to the room they’d left their coats, and Jens releases him to fish out his phone. He messages Robbe, to ask where the hell he is and to tell him they’re leaving. Before he has even hit send, there’s someone calling his name.

Lucas shoots a quick glance in that vague direction and doesn’t see any of their friends. He takes Jens by the wrist and draws him towards the front door, speeding up when more calls come and Jens begins urging him on. Lucas keeps a firm hold on him and gets them to the door. They’re almost running now, and they don’t stop as they burst through the door and start down the street. Beyond that, they’re laughing. Giggling like girls, downright giddy. Lucas is glad they had abandoned their beers in the bar, because by now he’s sure they’d have spilled them all over the street and themselves.

It’s only when they’ve made it onto a new street that they latch onto each other and stop, trying to catch their breath. Instead they catch each other’s eyes and break into laughter again.

Jens lets out an exaggerated ‘woo’ of relief, still clutching at Lucas’s collar. “Nice save,” he approves.

“Oh yeah,” Lucas snorts. He’s still holding onto both of Jens’s arms. “Very well thought out on my end.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Jens mocks, completing it with a small bow. He almost trips as he does so, and it sends them into another fit of giggles as he flounders for Lucas’s hand. Lucas waits until he’s steady, heart hammering, and then quickly lets go.

They take another moment to catch their breaths and look at where they’ve ended up, and then Lucas raises his brows at Jens.

Jens looks back at him and swallows. “There’s a swingset and stuff by the skatepark. It should be dead this late.”

Lucas tucks his hands into the pockets of his coats and nods, finding his lips drawing up in a smile again. “Lead the way.”

They’re quiet as they make their way through the dark streets, still sticking close but no longer touching. Jens scuffs his feet every few steps, and Lucas wonders if he wishes he was skating. It seems, even now, like his preferred method of transport. He picks up the pace, and Lucas does his best to keep up with the other’s longer legs.

They make it to a small park, set up with a kids climbing frame and slide and, as promised, a swingset. Jens makes a beeline directly for it and sits on one of them, tucking his arms around the chains and digging his feet into the ground to start pushing himself back and forth.

For a moment, Lucas simply watches, smiling. He had wondered if Jens was actually taking a day off, giving himself time to chill, but he hadn’t seemed at all relaxed in the bar. Now, however, he does, swinging gently back and forth with his eyes closed and a small smile on his lips, uncaring of Lucas watching him. Then he opens his eyes and meets Lucas’s, and beckons him over with a flick of his hand.

Lucas goes. It takes a moment to get settled comfortably in the swing, and he wishes he’d just worn his denim jacket instead of the long black coat he kept for more formal occasions. He’d watched Jens’s eyes sweep over him at the start of the night, however, and that had reassured him of his choice.

He wraps his hands around the chains and kicks himself into a swinging motion. “This is pretty much exactly like the one Isa used to love at home.”

“Isa?” Jens questions.

“One of my friends from school,” Lucas explains, smiling wider. “We still talk. For some reason she used to think a swingset was a great place for serious conversation.”

Jens huffs, pushing himself to match the speed and height of Lucas’s swings. “Okay. Serious conversation time, then.”

“Oh shit. Walked into that one.”

Jens huffs again, shooting him a grin. “When did you get into designing? Or how?”

“Oh.” This is a much safer topic than Lucas had expected. “I don’t know. I always kind of liked art, but even that, I kept it mostly private, just doodling and stuff where no one would see. I kind of dulled everything about myself down like that. My fashion sense was just as good as yours, which…”

“Hey,” Jens protests, though he’s fighting a smile.

Lucas grins, shrugging. “Then, I don’t know, it didn’t feel like me. So one day I just started fucking around with some of my clothes. I bought this like, multi-pack of kids fabric paint and just went for it. It was a fucking mess.”

Jens laughs, loud and surprised. “But it made you think, hey, I just wanna do this for the rest of my life?”

“God, no,” Lucas snorts, and Jens laughs louder. “But it still felt...good. I made the mess look purposeful and turned it into this paint-splatter, tie-dye, rainbow thing and I wore it the next day and Isa’s friend, Engel, kept asking where I got it and then begged me to make her something when I explained and, I don’t know. Since then I just kind of started, making stuff for my friends, and it spiraled from there.”

“And now here you are,” Jens muses.

“With the biggest celebrity in Antwerp.”

It’s teasing more than it is genuine, and Jens scoffs and twists his swing around to kick at Lucas, resulting in a rough tangle of legs. Jens yelps and grabs onto the chains with his hands when he’s almost tugged from the seat. Lucas tosses his head in a laugh and almost tips backwards. They’re both probably a little bit tipsy. Not drunk, definitely not, but both had clearly been on their way. Jens possibly more so than him.

“How are you?” Lucas thinks to ask. “After everything today. Was the stressing necessary?”

Jens starts swinging again and thinks before shaking his head. “No, probably not. I mean it when I say it’s not why I do it, you know, the whole publicity thing. I didn’t decide I wanted to be a celebrity, I just love making music and I thought how cool it would be if I managed to do it for a living. But then when people actually like it...it feels good, you know? It feels like I’m doing something but also like, I don’t know, I’m understood. Like people like me for what I have to say.”

“Or it could be because you’re hot.”

This startles another laugh out of Jens. “Okay, objectify me some more, why don’t you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Dumbass.” Jens grins.

“Hey, we’re having a serious conversation,” Lucas protests, kicking out at him this time, unable to help grinning back. Jens mimes zipping his lips and Lucas nods approvingly. “When did you realise this is what you wanted to do?”

Jens doesn’t hesitate. “Always. Music is the only thing I ever felt really passionate about, I guess. For the same reason as you. It’s just my version of art that makes me feel like myself.”

Lucas drags his feet against the grass underneath him until he stops swinging. Jens has already stilled, and he turns his head to look at Lucas. “You always do that,” Lucas says. “Say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you understand. You say it so confidently. Like you know me.”

“Don’t I?” Jens asks, brow furrowed and still smiling slightly. Before Lucas can answer, he says, “If I don’t, I want to.”

Lucas swallows. His question comes out as a whisper. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jens admits.

Lucas sways slightly, looking down at the ground even as he twists his body towards Jens, listening. Jens’s feet creep towards his own as he twists around, too.

“I just want to. I don’t know, I feel like you understand, too. I just like you. I want to know you and I want you to know me.”

It shocks Lucas into looking at him, and it also shocks him into silence.

Jens’s cheeks turn rosy, and Lucas guesses it isn’t from the cold. Jens laughs nervously and slides his feet, accidentally knocking into Lucas’s. “Sorry, that was probably weird. I’m just—I’m not used to getting to know people like you, Lucas, and it just, it feels good. I don’t think there even is anyone else like you.”

Lucas leans forward and kisses him.

It’s soft. Tentative. A drawn-out press of lips, frozen in a drawn-out second in time, all in the single breath caught in Lucas’s throat. Then Jens presses back, raises his hand to cup Lucas’s head, and time jerks back into motion.

Lucas instantly reaches up to grab his face, pulling him in, and Jens’s free hand comes to grip his wrist and hold him in place. Lucas’s heart batters at his ribs, grateful.

He’s not sixteen anymore. He’s had his fair share of kisses. It shouldn’t—usually doesn’t—make him nervous. But this, Jens, is something he doesn’t think he ever could have prepared himself for. Jens is careful and he isn’t. He’s experienced, knows what he’s doing, and yet he takes it easy, waits for Lucas to respond to every move before making another. His kiss is gentle and his grip is tight, lips warm and fingers cold. Lucas is less focused on the tongue in his mouth and more aware of the riot in his stomach, the beat of his pulse in his ears. Kissing Jens is nothing and everything like he expected, as surprising and beautiful as the man himself. Lucas can’t remember why he hasn’t done this before. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t been doing this, kissing Jens, forever. Or at least, since he first saw him.

Then Jens is shoving him away and Lucas almost topples off his swing, breath rushing out of him as his heart plummets.

Jens wipes his mouth and harshly says, “What the fuck?”

Lucas gapes. He tries to speak and only makes a wounded, croaky noise. He clears his throat and licks his lips before managing to ask, “What?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jens looks furious. Lucas doesn’t understand. “I—did you not want to? But you...you kissed me back.”

Jens laughs, and even that sounds angry. “So it’s my fault. No. Fuck that. Fuck you. Fuck.”

“Jens,” Lucas pleads.

“No, fuck, look. I don’t know, what’s going on with you and Sander but I—no. I won’t do this. Jesus, Lucas, why would you make me do that?”

Oh. Oh fuck. That’s why he’s never done this before.

“Oh, no, Jens, no. You’ve—it’s not what you think, I swear—“

“Whatever you have going on, figure it out, Lucas. But I can’t—I’m not that person. I’m not being that person. After I told you—fuck, I’m not a consolation prize.” Jens stands up abruptly, and Lucas follows, but Jens holds a hand out before he can step any closer. “Don’t,” he says sharply.

They stare at each other in a silent standoff, Lucas feeling his world crumble as he watches the same thing happen to Jens’s resolve. Jens’s hand falls back to his side, and he looks entirely sober now as he gazes at Lucas with glistening eyes.

“I thought we were actually friends,” Jens says, voice trembly. Lucas shakes his head, pleading. “But after everything I said, you’re just like everyone else.”

“Jens, please, just listen to me,” Lucas begs.

He steps closer and Jens steps back. “Why should I?” he demands. “What are you going to say? I don’t want your explanations or excuses, Lucas. I thought you were honest.”

Lucas feels like he’s openly wounded. Bleeding. Surely Jens can see that. Surely he knows that he’s wrong. But Lucas—Lucas can’t tell him. He’d promised. He’d promised his best friend.

“Well?” Jens pushes.

Lucas shakes his head helplessly, and Jens’s expression falls the rest of the way. “Just—can you let me take you home? You shouldn’t be out alone like this.”

Jens laughs, but it’s just a breath. Incredulous. He takes another few steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t. Just—just don’t.” Then he’s turning on his heel and walking away.

Lucas wants to go after him. He should. He knows he should. But he can’t. There’s no point.

There’s nothing he can say.

~^~

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos @debussyatmidnight

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#wtfock #skam nl #van der stoffels #vds #sobbe #robbe x sander #fake making-it #it’s super late oops #this is the one scene I’ve had in my head since the beginning #and...sorry

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

So It Goes...

full masterlist

Pairings: Rock star/Bassist!Bucky Barnes x female!reader (AU)

Word count: 7,149

Warning: fluff, SMUT! but mostly just me falling in love with bucky, really.

Summary: natasha romanoff aka your annoying roommate coerced you into the howling commando’s live performance at a divebar near your dorm. little did you know, it was going to lead you to the man of your dreams aka the charming rock star boy/bassist, james buchanan barnes.

a/n: this one’s written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan‘s “Little Darlin’s Mysteru AU” challenge. i chose band/rockstar au. here’s another love letter to bucky barnes because i love that man with my entire heart and every fic that i write about him is basically just me expressing my deep affection for this man. hope you guys enjoy this one cause i certainly do! also, rock star/boy band bucky is such a concept omg i’m in love

You laid in your twin-sized bed as you heard the chirping sounds of the birds outside of your window. They were singing cheerily as if they knew what you were feeling and they were celebrating with you. It felt like you were in a Disney movie that you used to obsess over as a kid, where you are the lovestruck princess because you just met a handsome prince who swept you off your feet at first sight.

The birds outside of your window are your animal pals who swoon over you swooning and they spontaneously harmonize and dance to this newfound joy. You couldn’t resist the smile taking over your face. It was too early for you to be awake on a Saturday morning. You were always up by 10 AM. No more, no less. But it was currently 8.45 AM and you still had at least one more hour to get up and be productive.

But not today. Today, you were going to welcome this exhilarating sensation in your bones, and you were going to savour every second of it. Because you couldn’t shake away those baby blue eyes and that suave, boyish charm. The way, they electrified you by first glance and made you tremble when those pupils dilated. You could still feel the way his soft, plump lips hypnotized you last night. And the raunchy way he held you at the bar.

Even when all was said and done, he found a way to haunt you in your dreams.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

You were currently in the middle of a crisis due to your upcoming final week. If there’s any word to describe you as a college student, it would be ambitious. The idea of failing or getting less than B+ makes you go ballistic. You were an active student. You joined multiple organizations that expanded your social life. You got along with mostly everyone in your classes and you had your professors’ respect too for your excellent grades and polite manners.

But your lack of dating life irked no one else more than your roommate, Natasha. You loved Natasha with your entire heart, really. She was like a sister to you. You were an only child so you cherished her older sister role in your life. She was, in fact, several months older than you and she always protected you like her own. Starting from the asshole that broke your heart in high school, despite only knowing him through your story, to incessantly pushing you to stop being such a nerd and have more fun.

Natasha was the kind of woman you don’t wanna mess with. She was loyal, brave and quick-witted. She knows how to keep her GPA high, whilst also maintaining a fun social life. She managed to do it all so effortlessly.

“C’mon, y/n! Just one night! You need to let loose and release all tension on your shoulders, baby. It’s good for your brain before finals start!”

“Noooo, Nat. Rock bands are not my thing and I’d have a higher chance of acing the tests if I study now, okay? Just go. Have fun without me and tell me how it goes.”

“But my boyfriend’s performing, y/n. And I want you to meet him! I promise they are really good. Even if you're not into the music, you can still go for the drinks, right? Also, they’ve got other cute members available so, you might find your own rock band boyfriend too if you go.” She winked. Her smirk was menacing.

“Ugh, I’m not interested in finding a boyfriend, Nat.”

“I know, but wouldn’t hurt if you do, right? Then we can go on double dates and have them write songs about us. Oh God, it’s going to be awesome.”

“Whoa, slow down. I haven’t even learned their names, yet and we are already discussing double dates?”

“Alright, let’s just start with putting on your sexy clothes and meet them yourself. Then we can move onto picking one gorgeous beast for you.”

“What makes you even think that they’d be interested in me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n. Have you never owned a mirror? You are a total babe. You just need to get yourself more action.”

“Ugh, I don’t know, Nat…”

“You are going. And I’m not leaving until you get up and put on something cool. I have patience, baby and I’m going to annoy you all night if you stay. What do you prefer? Going out and have fun and meet some cute boys or me annoying you all night so you can’t study productively.” She glared at you. Her tone indicated that there was no compromise.

“Alright, I’m going. But that’s only because I wanna meet your boyfriend, alright? Not because I wanna find a boyfriend or whatever stupid shit you’re thinking.”

“Yay!” She jumped in excitement. Her face was content with joy and satisfaction from succeeding in persuading you. “Alright, let’s dig through your clothes.” She started rummaging your shared closet and observed meticulously each one of your outfits. “Hmm… Let’s try this one!” She picked up a strapless black sequin dress that you hadn’t worn in forever. You didn’t even remember packing it up in your baggage and brought it with you to your dorm.

You began stripping yourself out of your oversized hoodie and high-waisted shorts. You didn’t feel embarrassed changing in front of Natasha, you had seen each other naked many times. You were roommates after all and sometimes, you just had to be comfortable with the fact that you had private body parts underneath and within the course of four years, eventually, you had to get used to flashing one another at some point.

You put it on as you started to feel a little uncomfortable. You weren’t used to wearing skimpy dresses. Already wearing it for less than three minutes, you were constantly lifting the hem of the dress to prevent it from exposing your boobs and revealing your inner thighs. And the material felt itchy on your skin too. “Nat, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just wear a leather jacket and jeans.”

“Nonsense! You look bomb! Give your leather jacket and jeans a break, alright? Okay, turn around so I can see your behind.”

You twirled as she said, restlessly.

Tonight was going to be a longspun night…

The air felt crisp against your skin, as the breeze swept through your freshly curled hair, causing a few strands shading your sight. You struggled to walk steadily in your 7-inch heels that belonged to Natasha because you didn’t have a pair of your own. You were cool with wearing ankle boots pairing them with a sparkly dress. But Natasha didn’t think it was a cute look.

“What? Boots and dresses don’t go along, honey. Oh my, you need a serious makeover!” She was derailed.

You eventually settled with a silk red dress with a seductively low cleavage on the front, exposing the globes of your breasts. You were already as uncomfortable as it is, this dress didn’t make it any easier to act normal.

So you had to endure walking in these deadly shoes of torture, whilst clad in nothing but a scanty material with makeup painting your entire face. Great. What had you gotten yourself into? Damn you, Natasha.

You and Nat were walking arm in arm to the bar where “The Howling Commandos” were performing. That’s the name of the band that Natasha’s boyfriend was in. They have been a group for 5 years now, they had been doing this since they were in high school. Clint and the rest of the members were several years older than you and Nat. As soon as they graduated, they decided that they wanted to keep making music rather than working mundane, dead-end jobs.

Yep, Natasha told you that much.

Clint and Nat had been dating for two years now. They rarely saw each other due to the band’s packed schedule. Although, they would FaceTime each other every night, talking about each other’s days. You heard it all, from their most disgustingly adorable flirtations, to the most inappropriate, not so PG-13 confession.

They would literally pretend to smooch one another through the screen when you were doing your homework or when you had your nose deep in a book. You’d try to cover your ears by putting on your earbuds and turning up the volume so you could give them privacy but also, you didn’t wanna hear them talking about what they wanted to do to each other if both of them were here.

You knew Clint well enough to not feel like you were meeting a complete stranger. Natasha would often tell you to say hi to him and she had told you a lot of wonderful things to Clint. Clint would often talk about the band too on the phone, how someone called “Bucky” would piss him off by stealing his leftover sandwich. Or someone called “Sam” would often interrupt their chat by reminding him that it was soundcheck time.

“I gotta go, babe. Sammy’s not gonna stop yelling.”

“Aw, okay, tell the boys I say hi! Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

It’s like a daily podcast for you every night.

The dive bar where The Howling Commandos were performing thankfully wasn’t that far from your dorm. Natasha was super thrilled when Clint told them that they were going to perform here. They were finally able to see each other after a while, and because this was going to be their last gig until they come back with a new album, he said he was going to stay and spend some time with Nat.

You were happy for both of them. You’d never say it out loud but, a part of you was secretly jealous of their love. They managed to maintain such a fun, loving, and healthy relationship despite the distance and differences. Natasha once told you that she was never one to settle with a man for too long but, Clint changed the game for her. You smiled at the thought. They were genuinely in love. If you were to find yourself a boyfriend, you wanted the type of love that they had.

But not tonight. You were okay with being single. Just because a part of you wanted what Clint & Nat had, doesn’t mean that you actually need it or you’d die. You were too much of a goal-oriented person to be chasing over something that should come naturally. You had grown so comfortable in being alone, that you stopped desiring love so much. It wasn’t getting you anywhere. So you lived your life, being grateful for your friends and family. You invested your time in your education and passion. You were content.

When you arrived at the bar, the room was full with a crowd. You walked in with Natasha trying to make a space for yourself so you could walk through them. You could barely anything else due to the number of bodies blocking your view. Natasha held your hand as she took the lead and fought through the crowd to get to the front, where she could get the best view.

There was a blonde-haired woman standing on the front, so close to where the band were going to play. When Natasha slightly grazed her whilst trying to stand next to her, she didn’t look the slightest bit happy. She glared at Natasha as Natasha noticed. She glared back at her.

“Excuse me, there’s more space in the back, maybe you can stand there instead of cutting through the line.”

“Excuse you, miss. I’m dating the band’s drummer, so I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much. If you don’t like that, then the exit is right there.” She pointed to the door of where we walked in from.

The blonde woman rolled her eyes as she folded her arms against her chest. After you stared at her reaction, you realized that you actually know her. She was in the same social science class with you. You had never really talked to her because she often sat in the back and immediately left after the class was done, but you remembered her name. Her name was Dottie Underwood. Your classmates called her Dot. The ones that she liked anyway.

You decided to stay quiet and let it pass. It’s not like she even recognized you even if you start a chat with her. You don’t think it was a good idea either since she and Nat literally just snarked at each other. You directed your sight to the stage and waited for the famous Howling Commandos to appear.

One of the spotlights turned and highlighted a man walking on stage before he talked into the microphone at the centre. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, a group of brilliant lads, that make all the ladies go feral wherever they go, and their showstopping music are going to make us sing and jump tonight. Please welcome, The Howling Commandos!”

The crowd roared with cheers, the sounds of their enthusiasm filled the atmosphere. Their claps were jovially in sync as four, drop-dead gorgeous young men stepped into the stage as their presence shifted the energy in the room.

The first one was a blonde-haired with breathtaking bone structure, forming a ridiculously handsome face. His hair shone under the spotlight like the sun amidst the clear sky. He had an amiable demeanour about him. His smile was gentle and welcoming. He waved to the crowd and stood directly behind the microphone.

The second one to walk in was a dark-skinned man with an undeniable charisma oozing out of him. He had a neatly trimmed beard that only added to his spicy appeal. His smile was radiant as he also waved the crowd. He stood on the left side of the stage, a couple of steps behind Steve who was apparently the lead singer.

The third one to walk in was Clint. He was everything Nat described him to be. Placid and nonchalant. His smile was amenable as he greeted the crowd. He walked directly to the background, where the drumset was placed. He sat down on the drummer’s chair as he picked up the sticks he was going to play with.

The last one to enter was a literal Disney prince coming to life. His prominent boyish charm completely bedazzled you. His blue eyes gleamed under the spotlight as they lingered on you for a second. He immediately shifted his gaze as he kept walking towards the right side of the stage, but you swore that when he caught you staring dumbfoundedly at him, you could see the flash of a quick smirk on his face.

He only nodded to the crowd as he confidently picked up the bass guitar that was previously placed on the floor and put on the leather straps around his neck. His eyes turned back to you as you found yourself still bluntly staring at him. Something about him just enchanted you. He had that boy-next-door charm about him but also, a bad boy persona that was irresistibly enticing.

That flash of smirk that you saw earlier resurfaced and it was getting harder for you to pay attention to anyone or anything else in the room other than him. His gaze grew more intense as the noises of the crowd faded into the background. You were lost in this lethal game of eye contact until Natasha accidentally elbowed you by screaming her lungs out to respond to the lead singer’s introduction.

“Good evening, SHIELD’s Nest! How are we feeling tonight?” The lead singer vivified the crowd. They responded with a reassuring reaction. “I’m Steve Rogers and these are my buddies,” he turned his head to the left, as he started introducing the other band members. “The handsome guy right there is Sam, and in the back, there’s Clint, our brilliant drummer boy and this ladies’ charmer right here is Bucky.” As he pointed to the magnetic man who had held your attention hostage since he first walked in.

“And we are The Howling Commandos.” He paused for a second before carrying on with his prelude. “Alright, so the first song that we’re going to play tonight is called ‘Rusted Love’. Enjoy.” Steve removed his mouth from behind the microphone and started cueing the band to play. “1,2…”

Sam and Bucky started strumming the first few notes as a few people cheered. Then Clint jumped in, flaunting his talent in mastering the drum with his sticks. The energy in the room felt more energized as people started moving a part of their bodies. Then Steve amazed the room with his sultry voice, singing the words that echoed through the Sound system of the bar.

“I’m a flying kite in a hurricane, you paralyzed me with your touch and your lips got me addicted…” Steve shut his eyes, relishing the rune. You had a feeling that those lyrics wouldn’t just stay lyrics tonight…

They played another four songs that night. The crowd danced, jumped and screamed the words to their song passionately. You, on the other hand, was probably the most tranquil person in the crowd. You didn’t really know much about the band, let alone their music. So when everyone was constantly pushing you because they were too lost in the moment, you eventually tried to get out of the crowd and sat on the bar instead. Natasha was also too lost in supporting her boyfriend, that she almost didn’t notice you leaving.

Through the vibration of the crowd and the music, you had to really lean in to get Natasha’s attention and to get her to hear you. “Nat! I’m gonna sit in the back and wait there. I’m a little thirsty.” She had a giant smile on her face due to the zest the band inflicted. “Okay!” She yelled back, then carried on with her foxy moves.

You struggled to walk through the crowd, trying to not step on anyone’s feet as you made your way to the barstool. What you didn’t notice was, Bucky’s disappointed on his face when he saw you walking out on him. He noticed that you weren’t exactly as thrilled as anyone else. Although, he noticed your stolen glances as you shied away from him when he stared back. He even tried to wink at you once but you immediately looked to the floor, hiding away your blush. He swore he saw the way your cheeks reddened. Not that he wasn’t used to getting that reaction anyway…

You exhaled a breath of relief as you finally broke out of the congested mass of people. You sat on the barstool as you ordered a glass of rum and you waited as the music still reverberated robustly in your ears. You sat there as you started looking through your Instagram. Nat’s icon was the first one to appear in the row and you clicked it to see what you were expecting. She recorded a video of the band, then zoomed in to Clint, as he was ardently drumming the beat.

She put on a heart eyes and fire emoji with the text; “that’s my man!”. The next one was her and you singing along to the second song they played that night. You were able to actually mouth the words after they played the last chorus and you were a quick learner, so you memorized the repeated words easily after the third time. You scrolled through your feed a few more minutes until your order finally arrived.

“Enjoy, miss.” The waiter winked at you. He was probably in his mid-20s, he had warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. His dark hair was slicked back as you stared a little longer than you should. He was obviously attractive, but, you didn’t say anything back to him. You just smiled back in a friendly manner and uttered silenced thanks.

After sitting by yourself for about a half and an hour, like all good things, the show must come to an end. Steve Rogers concluded the show with a final thank you and goodnight as the spotlight shut down, like the drapes closing over a theatrical show. The crowd clapped and some of them started leaving, while others immediately went to the bar to quench the thirst from screaming along to volatile rock music and jumping up and down, getting lost in the tune.

Natasha patted your back as she jumped on the empty chair next to you. Thank God, she was quick on her feet, otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to get a seat. “Hey! God, I need a full shot of whiskey right now.”

“Yeah, go crazy.”

She scoffed. “Huh. As if that wasn’t crazy enough, back there.” She signalled the bartender to make an order. “So, what do you think? That was fun, right?” The cute bartender from earlier walked to her as he asked her what would she like to drink and she quickly replied.

“Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“Pretty good? They’re damn talented. Especially the drummer back there. He totally killed it.”

“Yeah, okay, they are amazing. But you know their music isn’t my kind of music, so can’t say I really enjoyed it that much.”

“Okay, but you must’ve at least enjoyed the view, right? Don’t think I didn’t catch you and bass boy making several eye contacts back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You took another sip of your glass to cover your embarrassment.

“Oh my God, you totally do! Look at you blushing!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! Admit it! You like Bucky, don’t you?” She playfully pushed you to tease you.

“Oh my God, shut up Nat! You’re causing a scene!” You tried to lower yourself, now that you’re able to speak in a normal volume.

“Nope, I won’t stop until you admit it. Don’t worry, y/n, Bucky’s always been a charmer, so I totally get your attraction.”

That caused a peculiar sickness in your chest. It’s not like you were falling in love with Bucky, no. You didn’t even know him enough to like him. He may be an eye-candy but if he’s really as “charming” as everyone is saying, then that means, he’s one of those dangerous fuckboys that you should avoid at all cost. Because that means, he’s probably only going to manipulate you into thinking that he really cares for you, when in reality, he only wanted to get in your pants. Nope, not gonna happen to you. You weren’t going to be a new notch in his belt.

“Well, then that means he is bad news and that gives me even more reason to feel anything but attraction toward him.”

“Oh, no, y/n, I don’t mean it like that. He’s really sweet, and he’s always been the most chill one in the group. Trust me, you’re gonna love him. Just, give him a chance first, alright? I’ve known him long enough to know that he’s into you.”

“Into me? Nat, he doesn’t even know my name.”

“He will.” She winked again, as she took a sip of her whiskey.

Not long after that, Clint appeared from behind, without Nat realizing. He surprised her by wrapping her waist from behind as he whispered into her ears; “how’s my best girl?” Nat was slightly stunned but as soon as she realized it was her boyfriend, her expression instantly turned into a joyful one. “Hi, baby!” They immediately smooched as she wrapped her arms around his neck while standing face to face now.

“Did you like the show?”

“I loved the show, you guys killed it as always. Oh, and by the way, this is y/n, my number one bestie and the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. Now you finally meet her in person!” Her excitement was genuine.

“Hi, y/n! Heard so many great things about you, but you probably can’t say the same, huh?”

“No, actually I can. Nat wouldn’t stop talking about you every night even when I’m blatantly ignoring her.” You joked.

“Well, is that right?” He looked at Nat to assess the truth on her face.

“Yep,” you carried on. “She would say you’re hot, funny and kind, and all these wonderful things. Including the ones that I’m not supposed to hear.”

They laughed. They kissed once more, as Clint stood next to her seat, ordering a drink for himself. Next to you, you could hear Nat saying, “oh, where are the boys? Are they not thirsty?”

“They’re just packing up, babe, they’re gonna join us in a few.”

“Good, ‘cause I think there’s someone y/n would like to meet.” She teasingly wiggled her eyebrows at you, as you sent her a murderous glare. Your lips silently mouthed, “what the fuck?” but Clint picked up her tone and he quickly got the message.

“Oooh, who is it? Is it Steve, Bucky, Sam? Just let me know which one you like and I’ll deliver them at your door tonight, y/n. They’re all single and ready to mingle anytime now.”

You laughed nervously. “No, no, no, no. Nat’s just saying shit.”

She turned her head to her boyfriend and shook it. “No, I’m not. She and Bucky practically eye fucked on stage.”

You instantly slapped her arm, staring deadly into her eyes. “Ouch!” She put her hand on the spot that you struck, even though it wasn’t even that hard. Classic Nat. Dramatic as always. “Nat, you can’t just–”

Before you even managed to finish your sentence, she darted her eyes to somewhere behind you as she pointed at whatever got her distracted. “Oh, here they are!” She smirked. She raised her eyebrows at you before she stood on her feet and hugged the anticipated men.

“Hey, guys! Killer show back there!” Nat started hugging Sam and he kissed her cheek, and then she moved onto Steve and the last one to join was Bucky. You muttered ‘shit’ to yourself as you pondered on how you should act. Should you act like nothing ever happened during the show between you two? Or were you going to address the elephant in the room, and just straight up flirt with him, now that he wasn’t being so closely watched anymore?

You didn’t know which would be the best option so you just took a big gulp and drank down the entire glass of Rum you had left. Maybe if you were less sober, you wouldn't excessively overthink. You weren’t even sure whether he was really staring at you or not. For all you knew, he could be staring at another beautiful girl in the crowd that was standing beside or behind you. And if you act impulsively now, this would be like that cheesy moment on Rom-Coms, where a girl waved back to the guy who she thought was waving at her but it turns out, he was actually waving at another girl who was coming from the same direction as her.

Nope, you weren’t going to be that girl.

So you just smiled and nodded along as Natasha introduced you to the rest of the boys. You didn’t want to be rude so you sat on your chair, facing them with an interested look, even though all you wanted to do was just shrink and leave this goddamn place.

“Hey guys, here’s my bomb-ass bestie slash roomie. Her name’s y/n! Isn’t she stunning?”

When Steve was about to offer his hand to you, Sam immediately inserted himself in front of you and Steve. “Well, hello, good-lookin’. Can I buy you a drink?” Sam, being the cool dude he was, he leaned back against the bar counter on his elbows as he shamelessly flirted with you.

“Nope, thank you. I just had one.”

“Oh, you look like you could use another one. Here, let me get that for you.” He cued the bartender to make an order and you instantly tried to stop him, telling him that it wasn't necessary, but it looks like the bartender was already taking his order for you.

And then, out of nowhere, Bucky suddenly stooped in like a hero. “Hey, Sam, why don’t you back off? This one’s mine, alright?” That elicited a questioning look out of you. “Mine?” He didn’t even know you.

“Oh wait, so this is the one you told us about in the dressing room?” What the hell? You thought. They were talking about you as if you weren’t there at all.

“Yep, so why don’t you fuck off and get out of here before I get myself drunk enough to shit on your bed?” His tone was menacing but you could tell that this was a normal, daily conversation between the two.

“Jeez, alright. I’mma leave. You don’t need to wave your dick all over my face.” Before Sam moved to another spot, he patted you on the back and said, “good luck.”

What? What the hell was that for? The bartender came in with your order and served another glass of Rum right in front of you.

“You don’t need to drink that if you don’t want to.” He carefully spoke to you, as if he was trying to not scare you away.

“No, I think I need to. Tonight’s been a pretty crazy night.” You took a sip, the cold drink felt nice on your tongue.

He chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Oh, how crazy can it be for you? Isn’t this like, what you do, every night?”

“Yeah, but, you never really get used to it, you know? Sometimes you just wanna sit in the bar and have a nice talk with a pretty gal and hide in the booth or something.”

That… Warmed up your heart. Damn, if this is his way of flirting, it was truly working. You could see now why everyone was calling him ‘a charmer.’ He really had a way with words. And stares. His baby blues really know how to captivate you and froze you on spot.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.” He offered his hand to shake yours.

“I’m y/n.” You shook it with a smile.

“Did you like the show?” He asked.

“Gotta be honest with you, buddy, your music isn’t exactly my kind of music. But you guys were awesome.”

He paused for a moment as if he was contemplating what he was going to say next. “Think I got a little distracted up there.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Cause there was this pretty lady in a red dress that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.” His gaze even grew more intense now. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room. Then his eyes darted to your lips, as he licked his. And before you knew it, he started inching his face closer to yours as he held his gaze on your plump, painted lips, while you could feel his breath more and more as the seconds went by.

And then… His lips were on yours. It’s like the clock just stopped ticking and every noise faded into the background and you were the only two people in the room. His lips felt soft against yours, and the way he licked your bottom lip made your head spin. You ajarred your mouth to let his tongue enter as it got tangled with yours.

You were aware that Nat, Clint and Steve who were having a conversation are now watching you like hawks, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Bucky’s hands grabbed your face, so he could have more control over your mouth. You were practically out of breath by the time he looked into your eyes, that are now slightly darker than a few seconds ago. He loved the sight of you, with your lips slightly swollen.

“Let’s go somewhere more secluded.” You could only nod and then took his hand after he offered you his as you got off the stool. He led the way and you couldn’t help but notice the glances that were thrown by several women along the way. They were staring at him with incontrovertible full of hunger eyes, one even shamelessly put her hand on his shoulder, as she coquettishly smiled at him. Bucky only smiled back and nodded at her but he kept walking with you in his hand.

Even if you were practically a pair, you felt invisible. Everyone’s eyes were on you, but not precisely on you. This must’ve been something normal to him, you thought. You weren’t used to big crowds and inundated with attention, and you weren’t used with unquestionably holding a stranger’s hand and letting him take you wherever he had in mind. But you did anyway, and you weren’t having second thoughts.

Bucky led you to the cramped lavatory and locked the door. The lack of space made it even harder for you to breathe when Bucky was this close to you. He pressed his body to yours, as he kissed you once more. Slowly, but you felt the spell in your bones. “All I could think about on stage was tasting those luscious lips.”

You were spellbound by his magic. You could barely speak another word when his baby blue eyes were looking at you so intensely like that. But you gathered every cell in your body to utter the words anyway, “do it again, then.” You boldly challenged him.

He grinned a Cheshire cat smile. He grabbed your face again and eagerly consume you with his mouth. He then moved his hands to the back of your thighs to elevate you onto the sink. He put his hand on your thigh and the other hand went to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, while still kissing you even deeper.

He pulled away to stare at your distraught state and asked the question, “can I touch you?”

You licked your lips, as you nodded. “Please.” His mouth was on yours again, as the hand that was on your thigh moved to the bottom your dress, delicately inserted his fingers to feel you against your red lace panties. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as he motions his fingers in circle harder.

Your breath quickened. Your mind was getting hazy as the second passes by. The right strep of your dress had fallen off of your shoulder, and Bucky utilized that opportunity to pull down the other strap and he began groping your breast, tenderly pinching your nipple. That elicited a petite yelp out of you. He groped your breast once more as he was still toying with your nipple.

He began kissing your neck, shortly finding your sensitive spot as you threw your head back. You shuddered. Your hands grabbed his hair, wanting to feel him closer. “Bu- Bucky… Please. I need to feel you.”

You didn’t wait for his response and immediately lifted up his shirt. You were stunned by the sight under the dimmed light of the bathroom. Clothes really didn’t do this man any justice. He should never be allowed to wear any coverups, ever again now that you had seen him. He was sculpted by the Gods themselves. His biceps felt robust in your dainty hands and the V-shaped line on his hips led to somewhere you really wanted to wrap your lips around.

Your hands quickly zipped down his jeans and his boxer along with it, and you didn’t hesitate in feeling his throbbing member right there, right then. It felt tremendous in your trembling hands, and you felt it getting harder with every stoke of your palm.

“Oh, fuck, doll, don’t stop.” His voice was raspy in your ears. It was the sexiest goddamn sound you had ever heard.

“Yeah, just like that. Go faster, doll.” He sucked your earlobe and his hand fisted your hair, making a mess out of it. You didn’t mind one bit. You wanted to be a mess for him and only for him. You somehow still managed to pamper him with all the senses you had left, even if your mind was clouded with every part of him.

“Bucky, put it in me. Please.” You begged with a quavering voice.

“Your wish is my command, doll.” In a second, he pushed into you and it sent an electrifying jolt all over your nerves. You threw your head back in mingled pain and pleasure. He felt even more full now that he was fully seated inside you. He lifted you from the sink and pushed you to the wall on the opposite.

You circled your arms around his neck as your back was slammed against the concrete. Then Bucky began thrusting vigorously. You shut your eyes and moaned his name. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t. He kept his eyes wide open to watch you with full attention. He loved seeing the way you were drunk in him. The way you forgot your name more and more every time he slammed back into you.

He loved the squelching noises ringing in his ears, better than the melody he was used to creating in the studio. The sound of your heartbeat was far more gratifying than the way Clint played his drum. Oh, how he could write an entire album solely about you in this state alone.

“You feel so good around me, doll. So. Fucking. Tight.” Your moans became louder with his filthy words in your ears.

“I’m gonna make you mine.” This time, his voice was sultry. It was rather beguiling than mortifying.

His hips kept moving and out of you with a vehement tempo, and then just like that, you crumbled. You screamed your pleasure, not caring if anyone could hear you. Bucky was still moving, trying to reach his own climax. Shortly, he was with you. He unleashed his cum deep inside you, adding the mess that was dripping all over your thighs.

You were a beautiful mess. And Bucky loved it.

After a few minutes, coming down from your high, you breathed into Bucky’s neck, not wanting for it to be over yet. You were a little scared that Bucky was going to walk out and pretend nothing ever happened between you. You didn’t know how many bathroom stalls Bucky had brought different women to and fucked them silly right there. You had a lot do unravel about him, yet, you weren’t certain whether he wanted to let you in or not.

“You okay?” Bucky whispered into your ear. You only nodded, still a little hazy from ecstasy.

“I’m gonna put you down now, yeah?”

“Okay.” He slowly set you on your feet, as he was still staring at your face. You leaned against the wall, trying not to collapse. Bucky picked up his shirt and put it back on along with his jeans and boxer.

“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky offered you his hand, like the gentleman that he was as if he hadn't just fucked you into oblivion in a public restroom.

You took his hand with a smile. You didn’t know what was going to happen after you walk out of the door, but you were going to savour every second of being in his arm if this was going to be last time you’ll ever see him.

You went home with a contented smile on your face. You were like a teenage girl who had just been asked to prom by her crush. How could you not, when Bucky offered to walk you home and left a kiss on your cheek before he called it a night?

Natasha was going to stay at Clint’s hotel, so you were supposed to walk home alone. You knew eventually this was going to happen but Natasha and Clint used it as a reason so Bucky and you would spend the night together too. You didn’t mind one bit, though. You wanted to elongate your time with Bucky and your wish was granted.

You offered him to come inside and stay for a little while, you were secretly hoping that you could go for the second round, but Bucky only chuckled and shook his head.

“Not tonight, doll. I ain’t that kinda man. And you need rest. But I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” Then you and Bucky exchanged your numbers and he waited until you were really gone from his sight.

You walked up to your dorm with butterflies in your stomach and sparks fly all trailing over your footsteps. Thank God, Natasha wasn’t here. If she were, she would’ve relentlessly teased you all night and made you admit that she was right to coerce you to come.

And you would’ve had to admit that she was right. And you didn’t like admitting that you were wrong.

But tonight, you were going to admit it to yourself though. Sometimes, doing something that frightens you the most would endue you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.

And you were going to thank your lucky stars tonight for embedding Natasha Romanoff in your life because, without her, you would’ve stayed in your shell and Bucky could’ve fucked someone else in that restroom instead of you.

That might’ve happened in another universe, but not tonight. Tonight it was you and you were really hoping that you were going to see him again in your dreams tonight. You had one taste of him and it wasn’t enough.

Bucky texted you not long after you took a shower.

“Dreaming of me, yet?” Wink emoji.

“Well, if I were, I wouldn’t be texting you right now, would I?”

“That’s true, but at least you’d be drenching your sheets because of me and I don’t think I have a problem with that.”

“I don’t need you to do that, maybe I can use some toys in my drawers tonight. They seem pretty bored.” Thinking emoji.

“Oh, doll, you are killing me here…” Drool emoji.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, doll. Thinking of you here.”

You turned off your phone and the screen went black. You changed into your pyjamas and washed off the remnants of your makeup and let the slumber take over you.

Bucky’s face loomed over you, somewhere in a fancy balcony, the view of the city stretching over, added to the beauty of the scenery. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and no tie. The first couple of buttons were unbuttoned, giving you a majestic picture that he was. His hands that were in his pockets, took yours as you exerted yours to him.

He leaned in with a bright smile under his stubbly face, his blue eyes sparkled like Sirius star.

“Fly with me, doll.”

“What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

520 notes · View notes

the196thbattalion · 4 years

Text

star wars human! high school! au

i’ve seen so many headcanons circling throughout the star wars tumblr about high school au’s, so i wanted to share my bit with all of you :D

anakin skywalker

five words: REBEL CHILD ON A MOTORCYCLE.

he doesn’t like riding the school bus because it makes him feel extremely claustrophobic, so he scrapped and scavenged up parts to make his own customized motorcycle, which he lovingly dubbed artoo.

the blue and silver detailing was the joint effort of ahsoka and obi-wan, because anakin doesn’t know how to paint.

if he can catch up to the bus, he’ll ride alongside it and flip off the students on it before revving on ahead of them. (the freshmen think it’s the funniest thing in the universe)

probably one of the most well-known juniors in the entirety of temple high school (mostly because of his shenanigans but partly because he’s dating padme fuckiNG AMIDALA, PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE DAMN SCHOOL)

he always wears this worn-down leather jacket his mom gave to him before she passed away, and refuses to take it off, even though it’s somehow “a violation of the dress code and should be outlawed.”

his hair alone has seduced eight different students (boys and girls)

sometimes during study hall, ahsoka or padme will get a hold of his hair and style it into little braids or make a super rad ponytail.

he really likes iced coffee with milk and sugar. he puts in the milk to make it nice and light (it’s aesthetically pleasing, obi-wan!), and then like eight tablespoons of sugar to make it actually taste good.

his favorite class is mechanics, taught by kit fisto.

anakin spent months on a mechanical arm project to replace his clunky plastic prosthetic, and he was so freaking happy when it was finished; he almost cried. (he did cry and ahsoka got it on video)

obi-wan kenobi

a mixture of the soft™, pretty™, hippie™, grunge™, vsco™ and nerd™ tropes.

he really likes peppermint tea with lots of honey but takes his coffee black.

he has had too much tea.

someone needs to stop him.

almost all of his classes are ap courses, and if cody hadn’t been watching when obi-wan was making his schedule, all of them would be.

him, cody and padme have ap english with mace windu, and cody knows how much his classes stress him out, so he lets obi-wan sleep during class and sends him the notes

the only ap class obi-wan doesn’t take is mechanics, and he shares that class with anakin.

anakin and obi-wan are super close with each other. kenobi was there when ahsoka was adopted, and anakin was there when kenobi got his cat. (they were like 5 okay)

“NAME IT C3PO OBI-WAN, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK-” “what kind of name is that, and why would i - anAKIN PUT HIM DOWN!?”.

mr. fisto constantly has to split them up for disrupting the class, but it’s almost like they can communicate telepathically, and the teachers have a running bet

mace windu literally bet $50 on these fucking nerds so you know it’s for realsies

in reality, they’ve just gotten super creative with passing notes.

kind of off topic, but he has these brown harry potter glasses that he uses (kinda for reading???? but mostly so he can do that anime pushing up glasses thing)

cody thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

whenever cody is feeling stressed, obi-wan just does the thing™ and BOOM! happiness.

people think he’s a goodie two shoes, and honestly, it’s really easy to think that. if the iconics are trying to do something stupid, he’s usually the voice of reason.

but parties?

…

you know what, just ask anakin for the video footage.

ahsoka tano

this hs!au ahsoka tano turned me bisexual confirmed ✔

okay before i go into her style, which is mainly what made me drool over my computer, can i just put skatergirl!ahsoka out there?

spray painting of the rebellion symbol all over the bottom of her board and on items in a couple of the places where she skates the most (like the back of an abandoned car yard)

her instagram is filled with these super cool vhs-tape recorded skate videos (u know)

lots crackhead 3am visits (starring anakin, rex, kenobi and barris) to a gas station to get slushies and grind the shit out of the curb connecting the store to the parking lot

trying to teach anakin how to skateboard but he just can’t figure it out? uh yes

“try to balance skyguy!” “HOW DO I MOVE? DO I SCOOT? SNIPS THIS ISN’T FUNNY AND I WANT TO GET OFF – GUYS, STOP LAUGHING!”

okay okay okay i’m done

for now

anyway, her style???? is so???? fucking????? cool!!!!!

her genetics gave her a 80% of having vitiligo, so it really wasn’t a surprise when patches of her skin got lighter, but it still freaked her out a little bit.

basically, went like this: “DAD, I’M TURNING WHITE!” “???? oh my gosh ‘soka, no.”

she has long braided dreadlocks she dyed a super bright orange with various colored beads woven into them with the help of anakin and padme. she usually styles them into little space buns atop her head.

her entire clothing wardrobe consists of fishnets, neon bomber jackets, at least 11 bisexual beanies™, handmade patchy jeans, white tank tops, and light-up platform shoes.

she doesn’t give two flying fucks about the dress code, and – IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOST BUSY HALLWAY - punched principal sidious over whether or not she “could wear shorts that short” (anakin may or may not have cheered when she broke his nose).

the fetts (chuck have mercy)

*cracks le knuckles* i’ve put it off long enough

we have: fox (24), wolffe (19), cody (17), rex (17), echo (16), fives (16), boil (15), waxer (14), hardcase (13), jesse (12), longshot (8), kix (6), tup (3), gree (2) and boba (9mo)

wolffe is off at college - fox already graduated and moved out, that cheeky little fucking shit - but both still keep in good contact with the fam, and it’s a constant clamor between eleven of the siblings of who gets to talk to them first

fox majored in government/politics, bly is majoring in space/astronomy, and wolffe is majoring in police/law enforcement shit (i don’t know how college works, so sue me)

cody and rex are juniors, and despite their similar looks, the amount of schoolwork each of them completes drastically varies

cody is the honor roll student, valedictorian, whatever you want to call it

rex kinda just either does the work really well or 9/10 times gets distracted by anakin or ahsoka sending him some nice spicy memes

cody tried to tutor rex but it ended up almost landing tup in the hospital

“that’s really simple, actually. if you – vod? rex, are you okay? what are you oH NO TUP DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH-”

fetts on the varsity football team is like a right of passage in the family

right now, only the juniors of the fett family are on the team, but the coach has eyes on fives and echo for next years team

SPEAKING OF

echo, fives and boil are the infamous sophomore trio that pulled the milk bucket prank on the gym teacher, pong krell.

they had to help the janitor (99) clean up afterwards, but they genuinely enjoyed 99’s company, because he’s rad as shit and knows all the secret school passageways.

to be honest, not one person (except maybe sidious) was complaining

that motherfucker makes everyone run like eight laps during gym class

even mr. windu gives them a small smile in the hallways after that

boil says he was blackmailed into it

waxer is a freshman (the poor dude, i’m so sorry), and he always looks out for the nervous freshies

if someone is having a bad day, he’ll give them a lollipop (he carries around a whole bag), a place to sit during lunch, and a shoulder to cry on

all you need to do to find waxer is to locate this long ass line of children

the school counselor, plo koon, sometimes brings his niece numa into school during the day because he can’t find a babysitter, and waxer. fucking. loves. her. PERIOD.

w+n pull these tiny little pranks on teachers, and the staff pretends not to notice, but numa always giggles and gives them away.

boil has a soft spot for numa too, and sneaks her rice krispies.

bonus shit i want to add in but can’t figure out where to put it (or i’m just gonna add it on and shit)

plo koon adopted anakin after his mother died (him and anakin’s mother were good friends), and found ahsoka on the side of the street, shivering like a maniac.

he doesn’t know where ahsoka came from, but he loves her so gOD DAMN MUCH.

he’s the school counselor, and still keeps in touch with a lot of students even after the graduated (he thinks that majoring in law enforcement/police is a bit dangerous for wolffe but he still supports his unofficial but basically son 100%)

yoda is the super old but radically rad english teacher.

his entire point of existence in my mind fic is to troll the shit out of palpatine.

a recent conversation starring yoda and palps: “did you give the students the mountain of extra work i assigned them?” “for the students, that was?” i’m sorry. my bad, that is.” “this is the seventh time, yoda.”

okay but for real

mace windu violently roots for the school football team.

“BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, CODY! YOU TOO...OTHER CODY!”

“THAT’S A HOLDING! THAT’S A HOLDING!”

“REF IF YOU DON’T COUNT THAT TOUCHDOWN THEN I SWEAR TO SAMUEL L. JACKSON I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND BEAT YOUR SORRY PINSTRIPED ASS!”

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snarky-art · 3 years

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My enchantix redesigns that I’ve had laying around for a while. I’m going through my computer to try and clear up space and came across some winx stuff. I haven’t done the wings for them still to this day in any finalized way because they are very intimidating to me lmao. Some info here on how enchantix outfits and fairy outfits work as well as the inspirations for the clothes for each of the characters below! I’m going to include some more individual design notes from my sketchbook later too.

In my version of the winx redo, all fairy transformations have to do with a sense of self to an extent. The more sure and secure of oneself one is, the more likely certain parts of the outfits are to carry over to the other transformations. For example: I have multiple transformations for Daphne that I’ve done, but there are a lot of traits carried over in the designs (her tirar, her color scheme, cut of cloth, etc) since she was always very self assured in who she was. She was Marion and Oritel’s daughter, future queen of Domino, and the keeper of The Dragon Flame and she was going to become as strong as she could for her people and the universe so she could use The Dragon Flame as best as possible. (I swear I’ll upload her stuff at some point they’ve been collecting dust for literal years now sskdjkjfla).

The same can’t really be said of the girls here, and that’s fine too. Aisha is the one with the most confidence in who she is and that shows here in the carrying over of her metal accents (arm bands, a metal ring at her waist, albeit with a jewel in it this time) and the cloth that goes across her chest and wraps around her waist.

Another thing that can influence the appearance of a fairy transformation is closeness with another individual. Aisha at this point already knows she likes Musa (I’m going to upload a post after this going more in depth on their relationship in my version) and her double buns are influenced by that since that’s one of the main ways Musa likes to style her hair (she also helped Aisha really perfect how to do the hairstyle and as that was one of the first thigs Aisha ever really did with a friend after Anne left when she was young and not including the pixies, so it holds a lot of sentimental value to her. Musa was the one who went out of her way a LOT more than anyone else to try and get Aisha comfortable with everything. The other girls did too of course but Musa just kind of gets how it feels to be alone more than they do so they really understood each other.) Musa in turn also has armbands like Aisha and some cloth hanging from the tie around her waist in a way similar to the cloth trail around Aisha’s.

Bloom also has similar armor to Stella because of this, since Stella is Bloom’s closest friend out of the 6 and is the one who introduced her to magic and what it can mean to be a fairy.

Enchantix in itself works basically the same as it does in the show, and as the main focus of it is to save someone from your planet so you can become a guardian of it (there can be multiple guardians for a homeworld too. I always thought it was weird that it was implied there can only be one. The guardian fairies of a planet act as a protective council of sorts. They are expected to place the priority of protecting life on the planet above all else and sometimes align themselves with royalty as advisors for things if they it is requested of them by the royalty, but they are expected to be willing to break ties with any allegiance if the leader is doing things that upset the balance of the planet and enact cruelty, not that guardians have always done that in the past). As a result, it is tied closely to the culture of their homeworld, or the culture that the fairy is from if the planet doesn’t have a largely homogenous one.

Musa is based off of Chinese and Japanese culture, which is a really broad statement I know since there is so much that goes into those countries, but I tried my best to have it line up with the clothes she wears in the show and it seemed to be similar to that (and obviously her homeplanet is clearly inspired by Asia). Similar to what her original skirt seemed to be, the pants are inspired by paper lanterns, and the upper shirt part is inspired by the tops of dresses during the late tang dynasty. The design of the belt she has, although I didn’t really do a close up of it, is braided similarly to shimenawa (a rope used in ritual purification in the Shinto religion). She has an open lotus blossom that her hair is in the middle of that holds her buns in place and her makeup is based off of the Tang Dynasty and the little hair piece she has acting as her tiara thing (all the girls had one so I tried to carry that over) is based off of Quing dynasty hair styles specifically but like, similar hairstyles were used in other eras too I just liked those specifically.

Flora’s is based off of Mexican style clothes. The top part is based off of Folklorico dresses and the petal style I used for it is based off of marigold petals, which are used to lead deceased loved ones to the families shrine during Day of the Dead. Her makeup is also based off of designs seen on calaveras. Her head piece is a flower crown which is now a common staple seen in women’s fashion during festivals due to Freda Kahlo and her hair is divided into two parts. The upper part is pulled back into a braid that has a vine weaved in with it, which I took inspiration from hairstyles down there that thread ribbon into the braids.

Aisha’s was a trip to figure out. So her homeplanet really is,, something. There’s some middle eastern influence (her name is also Arabic), her mom and her when she was younger wore some 1500s style renaissance clothes, and also they have a shaman that seems to be based off of African medicine men, and then also there are mermaids wearing European style armor, so I had to do some looking around to figure out what I wanted to do here. In the end I went with Moroccan and Zulu style clothing overall with a few other influences as well and tried to mesh them together. The headpiece and the sash/hood are based off of women’s head dresses in Morocco and the facepaint, arm and leg bands are based off of traditional Zulu attire. Cowrie shells are on the bottom of the leg and arm bands as they are used in Zulu attire in the same place as well sometimes, but also because a lot of African cultures see cowries as being representative as gateways to the spirit world (a lot of cultures have the spirit world and afterlife tied to the ocean). Her stack of necklaces are based off of the necklaces worn by the people Ndebele people of South Africa. Her shorts and top are rimmed with silver and the shape of the attire itself is meant to be athletic and practical for her. It is covered in fish scales. Her ears are a different color here than they were in her winx transformation also. That isn’t an enchantix thing but a biology thing I have made up in my head for Androsian people. The fins start off a light shade and then over time settle into a darker color, which is what it will permanently be.

Tecna’s outfit is ready for the cold. For the longest time we didn’t know anything about her homeworld except that it was cold, so, anyway Russia and Siberia lmao. The green lines on her body suit have light moving through them also which I just thought was a neat idea because technology is a thing. Her glasses aren’t a permanent part of the outfit also. They come out if she wants to concentrate her magic to do something very technical and intense. I thought it would be a nice way to carry over that faceshield thing she sometimes used in her winx form. Her physical features btw are based off of the Nenets people of Siberia.

Stella’s outfit is Greek based because I’m not original and I don’t know why almost all of us collectively agreed Solaria is Greco-Roman but we sure did do it. Maybe it’s because of the word Sol being in it.

Bloom’s is just,, European lol. Domino is a Renaissance Era place it feels like (probably because of her mom’s ermine stoat cape). So there. There are some similarities of hers with Daphne’s inadvertently (family ties can influence things sometimes too, which can be seen in the Bloom and Daphne comparison sheet on my blog), but Bloom doesn’t know that. When Daphne eventually does see her in her enchantix outfit during the time of or before the movie (which does happen in my version but with a LOT of changes. Daphne still talks to Bloom though and helps out like in the movie) you bet your bottom she takes a second to collect herself (happy to see the bond is strong enough that it did manifest physically in a way, sad because she remembers what it was like to once have that transformation and the general bittersweet longing for the time before shit hit the fan. I have so much stuff about Daphne I need to upload some of it soon).

So yeah! Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk:)

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