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Always The Babysitter - Chapter Twenty-Six: The Hellfire Club

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) Word Count: 3,303 Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! I can't believe we're on the last season!! Buckle up, friends, 'cause it's a lot this season!! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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The phone ringing startled me awake as I sat up straight in the bed. Looking at the clock, I tried to count three hours backward from the time shown, slightly struggling before jumping to my feet and rushing to the phone, answering with a groggy and breathless, “Hello?”

“Can I read this to you?”

I sighed at the sound of El’s voice before answering, “Of course, sweetie.”

She always read me her letters that she wrote to Mike, asking for my advice on whether or not it sounded good enough. “Okay. Here it goes. ‘Dear Mike, today is day 185. Feels more like 10 years. Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We are all time travelers if you think about it. For example, this week is going very fast. I think because I am so busy. I have to make something called a visual aid. I hope Mrs. Gracey will give me an A. Some exciting news; Joyce got an amazing new job. She gets to work at home. She says she loves the freedom. Will is painting a lot, but he-he won’t show me what he’s working on. M-maybe it is for a girl. I think there is someone he likes. Because he has been acting… weird. Jonathan is acting weird, also. I think he is just nervous about college. He is still waiting for his big letter. I hope he and Nancy get to go together. But I don’t know how he’ll ever get to college because his car is still broken down. His funny friend Argyle has been taking us to school. His hair is longer than mine. And he and Jonthan like to smoke smelly plants together. Jonathan says the plants are super safe because they come from the Earth, but to not tell Joyce. Me? I’m twice as happy now. You were right. It just takes time. I think I have finally adapted. At first, I missed all the spring flowers, but now I find it pretty here, too. I even like school now. I am still best at math, but my grammar is good now also. Thanks in part to Olivia back home. It helps that everyone is so nice here. I have made lots of friends. Even so, I am ready for Spring Break, mostly because I get to see you. I am so excited to see you, it is hard to breathe. Are you excited, too? I think you will love it here like me. I think we will have the best Spring Break ever. I hope my spelling was better this time. Miss you. Love, El.’”

She breathed deep on her end of the phone, silently asking me what I thought. Taking a drag from my cigarette, which I rarely ever do, I nodded my head before saying, “It’s good! But the part about friends? I’m not sure that should be in there.” El’s kept her word on telling me every detail when she calls me. This bitch Angela bullies her to no end, and it pisses me off to the point where I want to get in my car and drive to California to beat the shit out of this girl… but I can’t since she’s a minor and I’m 19 years old. “Maybe just tell him the truth?” I took another drag, holding it for a moment as I said, “The truth–” I blew the smoke from my lungs. “Is a lot better than having to cover up your lies in front of him when he’s there in a couple days.”

“Livvie! Are you smoking again?” Mom hollered.

“Shit,” I whispered, dabbing my cigarette.

“Steve will be here soon!”

Holding the mouthpiece of the phone, I hollered back, “Okay!” Sighing and shaking my head, I removed my hand, saying into the mouthpiece. “Listen, get ready for school, do the finishing touches for your visual aid that I know you’re gonna kick ass on, and have a good day at school, okay? I’m sorry this phone call is short.”

“It’s okay,” El said. “Can I call you tonight?”

“I’ll be at Steve’s, but sure,” I smiled. “You can call.”

“Okay. Argyle is here. I finished my visual aid before I called you.”

“Okay, sweetie. Have a good day at school.” “I will. Bye, Olivia.”

“Bye, El.” I hung up the phone, yawning after I did so. Going into the kitchen, I made myself a cup of coffee, adding my sugar and cream into it before taking a sip and walking back into my room.

No, Steve’s parents didn’t come home last night. Dustin needed help with something for school, so I told him I’d come for the night to help him. My plan was to go back to Steve’s, but I ended up falling asleep on Dustin’s bed, him waking me up to kick me out of his room. As I entered my own room, my phone was ringing, so I walked to it, picking up the receiver, answering with, “Can’t I just enjoy a cup of coffee this morning?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Steve said.

Sighing, I said, “Oh. Morning, baby.”

“Hey, listen. I’m gonna leave here in a few minutes to come get you and then pick up Robin, okay? So, be ready this time.”

I chuckled. Last time he had to come get me from my house I wasn’t ready for work. He and I had had… a night and I was super tired the next day, so I didn’t wake up with my alarm. We were late for work and Robin was late to school that day.

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

“Promise?”

“Promise! I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I hung up the phone, taking another sip of my coffee while looking at my closet door. I set my mug down, walking towards the door when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. “What?”

“Liv, I need you to stall Mom,” Dustin said.

“And why, pray tell, do I need to do that?” I asked, turning to look at him with my arms crossed.

“I’m talking to Suzie and I need you to not tell her what’s going on behind my door.”

Scrunching my face in disgust, I said, “Dustin, I don’t need to hear you two have radio sex.”

“We’re not! It’s something about school,” he exclaimed.

Sighing, I said, “Fine. Whatever. But you owe me.”

“Thank you!” he said, running back across the hall to his room, sliding his door closed.

I turned back to my closet, finally able to go into it to pick my outfit for the day; a graphic tee, comfortable but tight-fitted jeans and my Converse. I’ve been working with Steve and Robin at Family Video since October and I have to say I quite enjoy it. Not the whoring out my boyfriend part, but everything else about the job, aside from Keith, is awesome!

Once I was dressed, I heard talking on Dustin’s Cerebro, that he somehow installed in the house, so I poked my head in to see what was going on.

“That’s a negative, Dusty-bun,” Suzie said.

“Son of a bitch,” Dustin said, pressing a button on his radio. “Try tigers86.”

“Tigers86, copy that.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, walking into his room, sliding his door to a crack.

“Liv, not now,” Dustin said.

I sighed, “Alright. Oh! I can’t pick you up tonight. Steve and I are going to the game and then I’m going back to his house.”

“Fine, whatever,” he said, going back to his radio.

“Jiminy Crickets, Dusty,” Suzie said. “I’m in.”

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Wait, is she… is she hacking into the school system?” I asked.

Dustin and I jumped at the sound of hearing pounding on his door, Mom’s voice ringing on the other side, “Dusty, what’s going on in there? You’re gonna be late.”

Mom went to open the door just as Dustin shouted, “Don’t come in! I’m naked!”

She shut the door before saying, “Oh, Livvie! Steve’s here!”

I said, “Shit!” at the same time Dustin said into his radio’s mouthpiece, “Running out of time here!”

I walked out of his room as I heard Suzie tell him to hold on. Walking past Mom in the hallway, she told me to grab a slice of toast on my way out, which I told her I would, grabbing it and a banana before rushing out of the house, hearing Steve honk his horn. “Alright, Harrington! I’m coming!”

Opening the passenger side door, I tossed the banana at him, my piece of toast hanging between my teeth. As I buckled my seatbelt, he backed up out of our driveway and started towards Robin’s house before he sighed out and said, “Good morning, Henderson.” “Harrington,” I said, muffled through a bite of toast. I shook my head while taking the toast from between my teeth, saying, “Ew. No.”

He chuckled, handing the banana back to me. “You’re lucky I let you eat in my car.”

“At least I brush the crumbs off my legs when I get out of the car.” I finished my toast by the time we got to Robin’s house. Getting out of the car, I brushed the crumbs off my jeans, turning to go back in the passenger seat when Robin called out, “I need the front, Henderson!”

When I turned to face her, she shoved her shako into my hands, the yellow and white plume sticking out of the top. Yes, I know marching band lingo, shut up.

As we started driving, Steve was telling her about our date we had the other day when we had the day off. “And then we went to Enzo’s and had an amazing dinner–”

Leaning between the seats, I interrupted, “I literally thought he was going to propose, it was so freaking romantic.”

“And then we went back home and watched a movie–”

“Cuddling on the couch before I fell asleep to the movie.”

“What, no sex?” Robin asked.

Chuckling, I said, “No. Not that night. The next morning, however…”

“Gross.”

“You asked!” I exclaimed.

“Liv, I’m not fully awake yet. It is 7:00 in the morning, we have this stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse.” She pulled her face back after fluffing her hair a little bit.

“Oh, you’re worried about a basketball pep rally?” Steve asked. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Newsflash, Steve, you were in the pep rallies, remember?” I said, poking his cheek.

“Yeah? So?” Robin said.

“We all know what this is about,” I said, looking at her profile. “He’s not buying any bullshit. This is about Vickie.” I smiled at her as she turned her head to look at me. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes, it is, and you know what else I think?” Steve said.

“I don’t care–”

“I think you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her.”

“You just gotta be yourself, love,” I said.

“You’re both quoting me to me, you do realize that right?” Robin said.

“Well, maybe you need to listen to yourself,” Steve said. “Ever think about that, smartypants? I mean, I listened. Look at me. Boom. Back in business.”

Looking at him, I deadpanned, “You’ve been in business, Steve. For over a year!”

“It’s not the same thing,” Robin said. “And Liv’s right.”

“Plus, when you asked out girls, they all said no,” I said. “Big deal. Nothing happened, other than your ego getting bruised–”

“I ask out the wrong girl, and bam, I’m a town pariah,” Robin added.

“Yeah, I’d buy that, except Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl,” Steve said.

“We just don’t know that, do we?”

“She returned Fast Times paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds. Do you know who pauses Fast Times at 53 minutes, 5 seconds?”

Silence.

“Oh, my god,” I breathed. “People who like boobies, Robin!”

“Ew, don’t say boobies!” she said.

“I like boobies, Steve definitely likes boobies, you like boobies! Vickie definitely likes boobies,” I said.

“Wait, you like boobs?” they both asked.

“We’re not talking about me.”

We got to the high school, Robin and I getting out before I handed her her shako hat for the pep rally. We hugged before she ran off with her friends, chatting and walking them as she met up with them.

“Were we like this?” I asked, leaning over a little bit.

“Yup,” Steve said.

I looked at him, our eyes meeting. I smiled as he leaned in closer, our lips meeting for a second before I heard kids through the opened windows saying, “Get a room, Harrington!”

We pulled apart as I groaned, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “Get me off this campus before I beat the shit out of these sophomores.”

He chuckled, driving off to our day job that helps with the bills… metaphorically speaking.

~~~

I was standing with Steve on our side of the counter when the phone rang, and because I was standing by the phone, I turned around and picked it up, answering it with “Family Video, this is Olivia speaking. How can I help you today?”

“Liv, I need you tonight for Hellfire.”

Chuckling, I said, “No way, Dustin. Not tonight.”

“What?! Come on!”

“I don’t even know how to play! Plus, I’ve got a date with Steve tonight.” I turned my head over my shoulder, watching Steve help out a female customer.

“Just move your date this one time! Come on.”

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie? I’ll pass this time.”

“What about Steve?”

“Negatory, little brother.”

“He’s just jealous because I have another older male friend.”

I heard the smug little smile on his stupid little face. “Yeah, I don’t think he feels the same. Besides, Steve and I really dig each other. I think that he could… well, I know he’s the one.” I watched as some girls walked into the store. “Oh, I got– well, Steve has customers. I’ll call you back.” I hung up the phone, faintly hearing Dustin say that he’s at school.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I whispered, “You're on, babe.”

~~~

Once we were done with our shift, Steve and I went to grab a bite to eat before heading to the basketball game. I said hey to Nancy as we walked in and gave a small wave to Lucas with a thumbs up. He slightly smiled back at me, going back to his warm ups.

After Steve and I found a spot in the bleachers, I turned into him after he put his arm around my shoulders once we sat down. I looked up at him, asking, “Baby, would it bother you if we won this game after we’ve graduated?”

“Interesting point,” he said. “Thanks for bringing that up, babe.”

I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his middle while still looking at him. He looked down at me, giving me a chaste kiss on my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, a smile ever present on his face.

The principal came up to the microphone that was in the middle of the gym, asking, “Everyone now please rise for our national anthem.” You could hear everyone standing, collectively. “Singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thompson!”

I clapped while looking confused at Steve as he looked over at Robin, a confused look on his face as well. Tammy started singing, the microphone giving feedback as she did.

“Told you,” Steve whispered. “Muppet.”

“Oh, my god,” I whispered, trying to hold back my laugh at either Steve calling her a muppet or her singing, I couldn’t decide. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Okay, she does sound like a Muppet,” Robin whispered.

“Oh, my god, totally,” I heard Vickie agree. “She sounds like Kermit.”

“I was thinking it was more like Miss Piggy.”

I snorted, turning my head into Steve’s shoulder, his hand coming up to rest on cheek from my shoulder.

When the game started, we got two baskets right off the rip. I honestly didn’t get basketball, I just knew the basics from what Steve had tried to explain to me over the years. But everytime he got to what he thinks is interesting stuff, I would always fall asleep.

I swear I was getting whiplash just watching the boys run up and down the gym, shooting baskets, colliding with one another, almost getting into fights with other team and the ref.

Seeing movement from the corner of my eye, I looked in Lucas’ direction, seeing him running onto the court. “Oh, my god. He’s putting Lucas in. He’s putting Lucas in!” I exclaimed, jumping in my seat, happy that one of my kids is actually playing.

I knew three of them were on school grounds with Hellfire, so I wasn’t worried about them. I wasn’t worried about Lucas either, moreso happy for him that he’s finally getting to play.

Steve was enthusiastic as ever, standing and shouting at our players to shoot the ball, to pass it, to not travel with the ball. I swear to god, seeing him in this element turned me on like no freaking other.

Steve and I were standing, the ball being passed and dribbled around before he said, “Shoot it!” as one of our players got the ball, making the basket.

A few more points in and Jason, the captain, called a timeout. The team huddled together as the drumline started to play a cadence. I secretly did band throughout middle school and freshman year of high school. I quit once Steve became King, not wanting him to be associated with a “nerd.”

Once the game continued, Jason got the ball, and from what I heard from Dustin, Jason’s a cocky motherfucker who thinks he's the top dog of the high school just because he’s King. No one will ever meet up to Steve as King.

Jason shot the ball, not making the basket at all. Ha ha! That’s what he gets. Lucas grabbed the ball as it bounced off the rim, breaking out of the huddle to run a few feet from the basket, turning around to make the shot as the buzzer went off.

You could hear everyone collectively stand again as the ball flew through the air. I could feel Steve behind me as we watched the ball bounce off the rim to the backboard and into the basket, giving us the Championship win!

Steve and I jumped, excited for Lucas and excited for the win. He wrapped me in his arms, giving me a kiss on the lips as the players and cheerleaders ran over to Lucas, chanting his name.

We had waited outside for the team to come out after hitting the showers, Lucas spotting us right away.

“Oh, my god,” I exclaimed, giving him a big hug. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Liv,” he said. When we pulled apart, he kept his hands on my shoulders. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course!” I said. “I wouldn’t miss my little brother playing for the world!”

He smiled before looking at Steve, giving his thanks to him as well. Jason and his small crew came out, calling Lucas over to them. He walked with them as Steve and I started our own journey to his car.

I stopped him as I watched Dustin and the rest of Hellfire walk out of the school. He spotted me, raising his hands in the air. “Liv!” Dustin shouted. “We won!”

Giving him a smile, I raised my thumbs out to him, letting him know I was proud of him.

Steve and I went home that night and celebrated with a movie and popcorn, clothing optional.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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A/N 2: hi, friends! pls be kind and reblog! it really helps us content creators out <3

Additional Note:

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

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If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

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Posted on April 22, 2024

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purple-vixen · 3 years

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Love is a Locked Door - Dick Grayson/Reader

Summary: Damian asks you and Dick to check if there are any monsters in his closet. Somehow the two of you end up locked in there.

You have been friends with Dick for quite some time now. He was definitely one of your favorite people in the world. Dick was funny, kind, smart and selfless, and also strong and very, very handsome. Though the latter ones you never dared to say out loud.

You were in love with Dick Grayson, and you kept this secret under lock and key. Making a move never really crossed your mind. You and he were friends for so long that you were convinced he would never see you in the same light you saw him, besides, you were afraid of ruining your friendship. No one understood you like him, there was no way you were going to risk it.

Being his friend meant you were a regular Wayne Manor visitor, consequently being able to witness Dick's crazy siblings. They all adored you, though Damian was the one who became most fond of you. In the beginning he tried to hide it, but eventually stopped doing so. It was very surprising for the batfamily to see Damian getting attached to someone so quickly.

Damian would show you his action figure collection, play violin for you, ask your opinion on his paintings and he introduced you to every single one of his pets. Not to mention the times Damian would show up in your apartment's balcony seeking advice or just someone to talk to and you two would chat and drink tea all night. You always scolded him for not using the door like any other normal person, but after seeing it was not going to work you decided to let it slide.

You saw Damian like the little brother you never had. He was a cute little cinnamon roll. A deadly cinnamon roll that knew how to kill a person with just two fingers, but a cinnamon roll nonetheless. Which is why you were not able to say "No" to Damian when he asked for you and Dick to check if there were monsters inside his bedroom’s closet.

You and your best friend were now inside there, each one holding a flashlight in your hand, pointing the beams to every shelf, hanger, pile of clothes and corners possible. You had to admit, you had the impression something was a bit off, considering that Damian and Jason were also in the room and they still haven't tried to kill each other yet.

Although the closet was spacious, you and Dick accidentally bumped into each other. He grabbed your shoulders to stop you from falling and you could feel your heart beating so fast it felt like it would jump off your chest at any second.

— Be careful. — He whispered softly. You were glad it was too dark for him to see you blushing as he wrapped his strong arms around you.

— Uhm… Found any monsters yet? — Damian anxiously paced back and forth as he watched his oldest brother and you turning his wardrobe upside down.

— Not yet. —

— And if we do, we're gonna kick its ass. — Dick added.

— Hey, (Y/n). —

— Yes, Damian? —

— Thank you for helping me. —

— Anytime, Dami. I'll always be there. — You walked up to Damian just to ruffle his hair, the youngest Wayne shyly grinned in response.

Dick let out a soft chuckle. Little did you know, to Dick Grayson, you weren't just his friend anymore, you became the one he fell in love with. Seeing you and Damian interacting always made his heart melt like crazy. He thought it was so adorable, you were so adorable. It made him want to kiss you even more than he already longed for.

— What is it? — You raised your eyebrows in confusion at your friend.

— Nothing, nothing. I just... remembered a joke. — Dick scratched the back of his neck, cheeks tinting a light tone of pink as the image of being close to your lips secretly ran through his imagination. — D-Don't stand too far from the door, Damian, you have to watch it for us. — He changed the topic.

— I already am watching. Just keep looking, Grayson. — Damian answered.

— Aren't you too old for the "There are monsters in my closet phase? — Jason was plopped head over heels on the bed, playing Subway Surfers on Dick's phone since his had run out of battery a long time ago. His green eyes glued to the screen, tongue sticking out as he tried to beat his brother's record.

— Jason, take it easy, he's just a kid. — Dick sighed. Being the older one, it always fell to him to cease his siblings' bickering.

— Aren't you too old to be alive? — Damian snapped back to Jason.

— Damian! — Dick rebuked.

— Oh, I spy with my little eye a very ugly monster, he's 4 foot 8 and wearing a turtleneck. — Jason teased.

— And I can see a deadweight spreading germs on my bed. —

— Enough, you two! — Dick ordered with authority. — Jason, give me my phone. Since you and Damian will keep on arguing I want it back. —

On his way to his older brother, Jason winked at Damian, who nodded back. As soon as he handed the phone to Dick, Jason smirked at him and then quietly sat back on the bed like nothing happened, hands on his lap with a rather comical angelic face.

— Sorry about that, (Y/n). — Dick changed to a soft tone as he stared at you with puppy eyes.

— It was taking too long, I guess that's a Guinness record. — You joked, trying to lighten up the mood. — Don't worry, I signed up for this when I became your friend. —

— Yeah… Friend. — He mumbled to himself.

You two went back to searching Damian's closet. A couple minutes had passed when the young boy cleared his throat, trying to get yours and his eldest brother's attention.

— Father is requesting me for an emergency. I must go. — He announced.

— Well, I better get going too. Old man's request is an order. And who am I to say no to beating up criminals? — Jason instantly jumped out of the bed and put on his leather jacket.

Words weren't exchanged, yet with just one look you knew what Dick had to say when he turned to you: "I have to leave."

The moment Dick got up and started to walk away, Damian rushed out of his bedroom, leaving the closet door unattended.

— Damian, wait! The...— Before you were able to finish your sentence, a loud slamming sound reverberated. —...door. —

You pointed your flashlight to the doorknob and tried to open it.

— It's broken. Last time Alfred went here to put away Damian's clothes he ended up locked till someone opened on the outside. — Dick commented.

— I know, but it was worth a try. — You shrugged your shoulders. — Talking about Alfred, We could try calling him. I bet he's the only person in the Manor right now. You know, beside us. —

— Great idea! — He took his phone out of his pocket. Dick unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found Alfred's name, he barely had time to hit the "dial" button before his phone ran out of battery and turned off. — Jason. — Dick growled, recalling the fact Jason borrowed his phone to play games.

— No prob. I can get my phone, it's in my purse… My god, I'm so stupid. I left my purse! — Dick burst laughing and you elbowed him, only causing him to erupt an even louder chuckle.

— Well, that's better. — He shrugged his shoulders.

— How can it be better? We're locked in a closet! —

— There was that one time I got stuck inside a garbage truck with the Riddler. —

This time you were the one laughing. That's one of the many reasons you loved him, he always knew how to make you smile no matter what the situation was.

— I bet you loved hearing his riddles all night. —

— Believe it or not, that wasn't even the worse part. I had to soak my suit for an entire week. —

— But seriously, how are we gonna get out? — You asked as soon as the laughter died down.

— To be honest, I have no idea. —

You both tried yelling at the door to see if anybody would show up. Then Dick tried doing the credit card trick he often used to open doors, it didn't work.

You started avidly searching for something you could pry the door open with. Eventually you encountered Damian's arsenal. The fact Damian kept a stash of deadly weapons inside his closet didn't surprise any of you.

Dick tried picking the lock with a sai and you tried slashing the doorknob with a sword. Dick would have found quite hot the way you wielded the katana and made a perfect dash attack, would have, that was if you didn't almost slice him with the sword on accident. As the last shot, Dick tried to force the doors open by throwing himself at them, the doors were blocked by something neither of you could tell and Dick lightly hurt his shoulder.

— Don't worry. I've been through worse. — Dick reassured.

— Dick, that does NOT leave me less worried about you. You could have a paper cut or a gunshot wound and I'd worry the same. —

— So you're worried about me, huh? — You could see his remarkable smirk dimly lit by the flashlight.

— I'm always worried about you, you idiot! — Dick's smirk grew wider at your reply. — Gosh, sometimes I wish I could wipe that smirk off your face. — You grumbled as you crossed your arms.

— Then why don't you try it? — Dick snapped in a flirty tone.

You inclined yourself towards him and your lips touched his. It was just a peck, it lasted for a couple seconds but for the two of you it felt like the time froze.

— Did that work? — You lifted an eyebrow. But then rolled your eyes when you realized that his wide smirk had become a full grin.

— I think you should try it again. — Dick pulled you closer to him.

Once again your lips met. This time the kiss was hungrier, needier. If only you knew that kissing him would feel that great, you wouldn't have held back for so long. Now that you were there, so close to him, you were free. And so was he.

Dick always pictured how it would feel like to slide his tongue in your mouth as you tugged his hair. And it was so, damn, good. Better than he ever wondered it could be. Dick felt in cloud nine, sensing goosebumps as your fingertips roamed around his abs. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, your chest was pulled flush against his, yet it still wasn't close enough.

You both pulled away breathless. The room was dimly lit, but as Dick tried to regain his breath, you could see his sapphire blue eyes with the pupils blown out.

— I guess that worked. — You joked.

— I should try being cocky more often. — He replied with that same flirty tone. — So… How long did you…? —

— For a while. —

— Yeah, me too. What took you so long? —

— Well... I was afraid things would get awkward between us. I wasn't sure if you liked me back. —

— Are you kidding me? I've been dropping hints for months! — He chuckled. — After all of this is over do you want to go on a date with me? —

— I'd love to. — You grinned.

You two were about to continue your makeout session when suddenly the creek of the door was heard, the bright light from the bedroom almost blinding your eyes since you got used to the dark from being locked in there. Both you and Dick jumped out of each other, in an attempt to not get caught.

— Okay kids, seven minutes in heaven is over! — Jason mocked after opening the door to your way out. Damian right behind him.

— Seven minutes? We've been locked here for two hours! — Dick protested.

— You say it like you weren't enjoying it. C'mon, just thank us. — He smirked.

— What do you mean by "thank" the two of you? Wait… You planned this? — You questioned.

— It was actually Damian's evil master plan, but I helped him execute it. Ya know, making Dick's phone run out of battery, hiding your purse, pushing the desk in front of the door so that you couldn't bust the door down. That kind of stuff. — Jason shrugged his shoulders.

— And apparently it all went well. — Damian nodded. — TT. Maybe too well. —

— Dami! — You rebuked. — Why did you do that? —

— I figured that if you started dating Grayson, you would have an excuse to visit us more often. — He crossed his arms as his cheeks blushed.

— You're aware that if that happens she will come here to visit just Dick, right? — Jason asked.

— Lay a finger on her and you're a dead man, Grayson! — Damian snarled and grabbed your hand, dragging you along with him as he started running. You couldn't help but chuckle at the fact the 11-year-old was so protective of you.

— Hey! I want my date back! — Dick whined and started running after you.

You rolled your eyes at the two boys as you ran, you knew tonight would be a long night since you first arrived at the Manor.

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc comics imagines #batfamily #jason todd #damian wayne #imagines #imagine

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kisekinodrabbles · 3 years

Note

helloo! i'd like to request something for the prompt game please :D kasamatsu + band!au + strangers to lovers + dialogue number 14 if that's okay? thanks, sam! and welcome back~

ofc!!! i tried to keep it shorter but im a bit rusty w my kasamatsu hehe hope u enjoy! wc: 2.3k

Kasamatsu admits that balancing his band and college work isn’t exactly an easy task. Between late evenings spent at gigs and all nights at the library, he is on the brink of his sanity, standing right at the tipping point. He yawns as he enters his nine am mandatory calculus class, another mistake made in his overconfidence that he would somehow be able to get his shit together.

You, on the other hand, are a closeted fan of his band, sitting three rows behind him in class. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you watch him drag his feet in and his hand lifting to his mouth in a yawn. Quickly, you duck behind your book as if Kasamatsu would ever give you the time of day. The brunette is well-known on campus with his successful group and good looks, not to mention he also dabbles a little in basketball while also maintaining a decent grade point average across all his classes. Triple threat, they call him.

When you first came into class and saw him there, shocked is an understatement. You’ve been following his band his high school from across the country. To see him in the flesh, so real and so human with his tired eyes, it almost feels like a dream. One you hope nobody would ever pinch you awake from. Thus, you made it your goal to be there before him every morning, which is a feat in itself. Kasamatsu may be grinding through the night and falling asleep in lectures, but he’ll be damned if he shows up late to class.

Throughout several weeks, you’ve seen girls come up to him left and right, shot down almost immediately by his intention to focus on the professor’s words. He lets them down easy and makes it clear that he pays thousands of dollars to study, not play IRL Tinder. This man gets sexier everyday.

You take your time packing your things when class is over, mainly because you’re too distracted watching Kasamatsu do the same. He is blind, or chooses to ignore, the whispers and shy glances thrown his way. Perhaps this is why you haven’t approached him yourself. You’re just one of his many admirers, a stroke in the massive painting of his life. Sighing, you pick up your pitiful self and make your way to the dining hall where you’re supposed to meet your friend for breakfast.

When the two of you settle on a table, you begin your weekly rambling about how beautiful Kasamatsu looks in the morning. Moriyama, being the good friend that he is, nods and listens intently.

Moriyama is an intriguing character. The two of you met because he had tried a line on you. In your perpetual state of flustered embarrassment, you had stupidly confessed to him: “Sorry, my heart belongs to Kasamatsu Yukio.”

In another twist of fate, he revealed that he had actually gone to high school with the guy and knew him pretty well.

“You know I can introduce you to him, right? No need for all this pining and drooling from three feet away.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue, “he’s practically a living legend on campus. I’m too intimidated to even breathe in the same air as him.” Your obsession has perhaps taken you too far, but if you expect to continue being his fan, the last thing you want is to scare him away.

“You’re so overdramatic,” Moriyama rolls his eyes. Coming from him, this sentence means a lot.

“What? It’s not my fault Kasamatsu’s so hot. He could bang me so hard backstage then pretend I don’t exist and I would still pay to watch his next show,” you groan, spooning yogurt into your mouth.

In that moment, several things happen. Moriyama’s eyes widen and fly behind you. Footsteps sounding at that same spot suddenly cease completely. You, realizing what possibly just happened, feel the heat flare up your cheeks.

Kasamatsu, in his sleep deprived state and probably completely delirious, had stopped in his tracks. His head whipped around to the source of the comment, finding Moriyama sitting with someone who looks distinctly familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Kasamatsu—”

Before Moriyama can even finish his sentence, Kasamatsu is already blurting out. “Okay, maybe I’m crazy but did I just hear you say that out loud?”

You want to crawl into your hole six feet underground and never see the light of day again. Ducking your head, you don’t even want to chance a glance up. The utter mortification is chewing away at your bones and you wish you could just evaporate into thin air.

Moriyama quickly interjects with a quick laugh, “Hear what? Also how have you been, man? I haven’t seen you in forever. Come join us for breakfast.”

Kasamatsu’s brows pucker. Maybe he really is going insane. And horny. Which is a very bad combination. Nevertheless, he slides into the empty seat next to Moriyama. He stares at you for a few seconds, squinting, before snapping his fingers. “Oh, I remember now. You’re in my calculus class.”

He knows you? “How do you know me?” you squeak, cursing your fangirl self for losing your voice. You never speak up in class, always choosing to come up to your professor for questions at the end of lecture. You’re quiet and tucked away behind him, so you never expected him to recognize you.

The smile he sends you is blinding. Even with shadows under his eyes, he still looks gorgeous. “You’re always first to arrive and last to leave. Figured you’re a hard worker in class and probably acing it.”

Your mouth dries. Kasamatsu noticed you. He actually noticed you. “Oh, um, I’m okay. I’m okay in class, I mean.”

“The question you should be asking is her name, Kasamatsu,” Moriyama scolds, smacking his back.

Kasamatsu pinks sheepishly. “Sorry, yeah. I’m Kasamatsu Yukio, by the way.”

Idiotically, you blurt out “I know” before your name. When you finally introduce yourself, you also clarify, “I’m a huge fan of Blue Devils. I mean, I’ve been following you guys since like high school. Absolutely love your music.”

The man actually reddens even further, but still he beams proudly. “Thank you! That’s crazy. Have you been to our shows?”

Almost all of them. “A couple, yeah.”

“We have one tonight in an actual venue. Are you coming?”

“Ah, it was sold out before I could get a ticket, actually.”

Kasamatsu blinks, “Oh, you’re more than welcome to come. I can get you a pass. Both of you—if Moriyama’s interested.”

“That would be amazing!” You grin, “Is there anything I can get you in return? I don’t want to just accept a gift from you for free.”

“Well, if you are good at calc, I wouldn’t mind some extra tutoring,” he suggests with a teasing grin.

Moriyama rolls his eyes, “Just ask her out instead of using tutoring as an excuse.” The two of you sputter, face colored a dark shade of red. You’ll kick his ass when you get the chance.

—

That one mistake turned out to be the greatest opportunity of your life. In addition to attending his show that night and meeting all of his bandmates, each one more good looking up close than then other, you manage to have weekly study sessions (you’re holding off on calling it dates) with Kasamatsu. The two of you take turns booking rooms at the library to cram, which mainly consists of you reexplaining concepts to the man. Although he isn’t a bad student, he’s also still struggling a bit to keep up.

“Hey” is what you hear before you feel a warm surface press against your cheek. You look up to find Kasamatsu with a steaming cup in hand. Gratefully accepting it, you catch a whiff of freshly brewed tea. You take a sip and smile. Black tea, no sugar. “Just the way I like it.”

“Noticed you never add anything to your tea,” Kasamatsu says almost proudly.

You raise the cup to him in thanks. Both of you go through your usual routine—you focusing on reviewing material for next week while Kasamatsu pores over his notes from this week, occasionally poking you to ask questions.

Honestly, a big part of you still wonders if this is all a dream. This guy you’ve been crushing on for years is sitting in the flesh right across from you. You peek at him from time to time, watching the way he frowns at his book. His blue, almost grey, eyes shine underneath the flickering lights. Even the way his lips curl unhappily is cute.

When he catches you staring, you quickly drop your gaze back to your laptop, missing the way he smiles quietly.

“Will you come to our show this weekend?” He asks as the two of you pack up.

“Ah, I have a shift at my part-time job.”

He looks surprised, “That late?”

You shrug, “Food never sleeps, I guess. It’s at the burger diner by campus.”

“Oh, are you guys open late?”

“Close at one.”

He nods, “Maybe I’ll see you there after then. The guys usually get really hungry after a gig so we can drive some business your way. I’ll make sure they tip well too.”

Your heart warms at the thought. It’s a thoughtful gesture but you’re even more thrilled at the prospect of seeing him. “Sounds good.”

True to his word, Kasamatsu brings the guys to your workplace at midnight after their show ended. They order quite a spread, practically everything on the menu. Kasamatsu goes as far as to help you carry orders to their table. You shoot him an appreciative smile.

Over the time your friendship has bloomed, Kasamatsu has been nothing but a gentleman. He walks you home to your dorm if you’re studying late into the night. He meets you in class with a muffin or a cookie from his early Starbucks runs. Surprisingly, he begins placing himself next to you each session. “This is better anyway,” he mutters. “Two birds, one stone.”

His vague words had you tilting your head in question.

“I don’t have random people coming up to me to sit with me and, well, I get to enjoy your company.” It’s a nice thought—him enjoying your company, that is. He had blushed a little when he realized what you said, but chose to direct his attention to the slides pulled up before him, missing the way you hide your smile behind your sleeve.

Now, you hear the rowdy boys chattering on as they devour their meal as if it’s their last. They speak through mouthfuls of burgers and fries, but you find the sight endearing, mainly because you’ve never seen Kasamatsu so relaxed. It’s quite refreshing really. Your attention is piqued when you hear one of them ask: “So doing it tonight huh?”

Kasamatsu retorts with a “shut the fuck up” and flings a fry his way. The way the other guy wiggles his brows suggestively has you freezing. What if he was meeting up with someone tonight? What if he was going to do the deed?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint cracking of your heart. Of course, Kasamatsu is popular. It’s no surprise he’s got his nights covered as well. You sigh dejectedly, feeling the hope inside you crumble into dust. The rest of your shift goes by rather uneventfully, but you try to avoid going to their table too much, lest you hear more details about Kasamatsu’s planned tryst. The man himself steals glances your way, wondering if you’ll be checking on them anytime soon.

“Your check,” you smile as you set the bill on the table, “I got the owner to give you a discount since you guys ordered a good amount.”

All of their eyes seem to sparkle as they thank you in unison, their synchrony almost puzzling. As you move to pick up the bill and change, Kasamatsu catches your hand before you move away. “What time does your shift end?”

“Half an hour. Why?”

The other guys are already packing up their things and giving you little waves as they exit the restaurant, leaving the two of you alone. “I’ll walk you home, it’s late,” he murmurs, fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

“Oh, you don’t have to! I usually take the bus back anyway so it’s no big deal.” You want to confirm whether he had plans that night anyway. You’d hate to be in the way of that.

He shakes his head, “I insist. Also, um, are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Catching up on studying most likely.”

“Oh,” he pauses, “if you have time tomorrow night, do you want to catch a movie with me? Maybe dinner after?”

You blink at him in surprise. Now that you’re looking at him properly, you notice that his cheeks are several shades darker than the red neon glow of the diner sign. He’s shifting on his feet and his other hand finds purchase on the strap of his bag, fidgeting with the material. “Um, like a date?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters slightly, his throat moving as he swallows. “Sorry, I probably should’ve made that clear,” he coughs, “b-but if you don’t want it to be the we can also go as friends.” Perhaps you’ve tortured the boy long enough but you can’t help but relish in his awkward chuckle as his hand lifts to rub the back of his neck nervously.

Biting back a huge grin, you nod. “It’s a date.”

Kasamatsu’s eyes light up and a pleased grin spread across his face. “It’s a date.”

The hollering outside the building has the two of you whipping to face the window where his bandmates have their faces pressed up against the surface, laughing and smiling to congratulate and embarrass their friend. Kasamatsu flushes, “I’ll see you later to pick you up.”

You nod but he’s already out the door, leaping to kick his friends away. “You stupid idiots!”

Laughing, you watch as the group makes kissy faces at Kasamatsu all the while the man fruitlessly attempts to shut them up. He really is cute.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #kasamatsu yukio #kasamatsu #knb drabbles #miffythoughts

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bauslut · 4 years

Text

as you are | iv.

word count: 4.880k

warnings: drinking, intoxication, cursing, references to ptsd, nudity, nc-17, sexual innuendos, flirting, cuddling, fluff

a/n: this is the fourth chapter of my aaron hotchner fic! as always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know! i always appreciate the kind words and feedback, more than you guys know :’) <3

also, a huge shout-out to @sapphicstars for helping me with some dialogue, listening to my rambles, n our mutual thirst over thomas gibson. ily <3

| ii. | iii. |

(i do not own this gif)

“you coming with us?”

a brunette blinks, startled, “oh, um, no, i think i’ll pass.”

jj, prentiss, and garcia are on their way out, coats slung over their shoulders, bags in hand. rowan remained perched at her desk, gathering the rest of her things. it was well past nine o’clock, the lights of the office dimmed, everyone stating their goodbyes.

“you sure?” jj arches a brow, “it’s karaoke night. spence is coming too. it would be fun!”

“i’m fine,” the brunette bore a weary smile, “i have a bit of a headache so i would be a bit of a downer. but have fun guys.”

“whatever you say,” prentiss whistled, “you could always hotch what he’s doing after he’s finished with that endless stack of paperwork.”

“you think that man has a social life outside of his office?” rowan snorted, letting out a chuckle, “it’s best to leave him be. he seems irritated tonight anyways.”

“maybe you could go perk him up a bit huh?” garcia teased, a bubbly giggle echoing through the office, “you know he probably likes--”

“that’s enough,” rowan’s tone was firm, “have fun guys, i mean it.”

“you’re missing out,” prentiss sang over her shoulder, shooting rowan a wink, “goodnight rivers! we’ll miss you!”

waving a meager goodbye, rowan sucked in a sharp breath, lips falling to a frown. slowly, her eyes traveled towards his office, beams of light cascaded from the blinds onto the carpet. through the slits, she could pick out his frame, how he was hunched over, knuckle pressed to his temple, brow furrowed with intense focus.

rising from her seat, she bit her lip, forcing herself to cease the staring. all around her was nothing but darkness and empty seats, a chill running through her body, an unsettling feeling creeping in. how could aaron hotchner always be the first one in, but always the last to leave? did the silence not get to him? was he not fazed? why was he even still hard at work, busting his ass?

all of the team was gone. the unsub was apprehended. the only thing left was the void of an office. the only noise the hum of the unit, the occasional chirp of a bird or honk of a car from outside. the only person left was her, but she was seconds away from leaving.

and what was he going to do the moment he stepped into his apartment? pour himself a glass of scotch? call his son? go to bed? would he drink to forget? drink to drown out the horrid images?

whatever the answer was, rowan would never know.

she was on the elevator before she even mustered up the courage to ask him what he was doing after all that paperwork.

elbows deep in paperwork, aaron hotchner let out an exasperated sigh. it was one thing after another. first it was the receipts for the travel expenses, where there was a discrepancy somewhere in the budget. then, it was the lawyers of a murderer from years ago, claiming that their defendant wished to plead not guilty under the reasoning of insanity. why they were contacting the behavioral analysis unit? aaron had no clue. it was not a matter of his concern.

he longed to get up from his desk, trudge towards the door, and not come back till morning. but he couldn’t. not now. he was almost finished. if he finished this tonight, then he wouldn’t have to stay late tomorrow night. he could go home and enjoy a nice drink. something to take the edge off.

leaning back, his shoulders slumped, fingers rubbing circles into his temple, just above his brow. any moment now, he would be receiving a call from haley, asking where he was. of course, jack would be waiting for him, eager for just a few minutes with dad before bedtime.

the second his phone chirped, buzzing, his hand flew to the device, bringing it to his ear, “hotchner.”

“um, hi. i didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“rowan?” his lips parted, “i don’t recall giving you my number.”

a tiny hiccup flooded his ear, “i had garcia give it to me. what are you doing right now?”

her words were slurred, the question dragging out for a moment longer than needed, her breathy giggle erupting afterwards. aaron’s eyes squeezed shut, “rowan, are you drunk right now?”

“it appears i might be a little intoxicated. well, maybe a lot. but, i don’t think i can drive, like at all. you know what they sayyyyy! don’t drink and drive! driver sober or get pulled over!”

his jaw clenched, “please tell me you don’t want me to come get you.”

“m-maybe i do,” she slurred, “maybe i want to see you, aaron.”

aaron. his heart fluttered, softening just for a second.

“where are you? if i remember, you live forty minutes away.”

there was a pause, the flurry of breaths against the speaker, “i think i’m at a park. i’m sitting on top of my car so i can look at the stars.”

“listen to me,” aaron sprang to his feet, “don’t you move a muscle, rowan. i’m going to come get you and just take you to my place for the night. we have a stop to make first, though.”

“what’s this stop? is it an errand?”

“we-- i have to pick up jack,” he was moving at a rapid pace, shoving papers into his briefcase, frantically searching for his coat, “i have to get jack for the night. i guess haley is going on a date.”

“oooooooohhhh,” her laugh was contagious, ringing like bells, “are you mad?”

“i’m not upset,” using his shoulder, he kept the phone against his ear as he threw on his coat, “rowan, you never answered my question. where are you?”

her response was instant, “i am parked at the park off north and second. how funny is that? i’m parked at a park.”

“listen to me,” aaron was now approaching the elevator, “you’re going to stay on the phone with me until i get into my car, okay? i don’t want anything happening to you.”

“okay, okay,” there was a yawn on the other end, “i’ll be awaiting you for, my knight in shining armor.”

“i’ll be there in ten minutes,” no matter how much he resisted, a blush still spread through his cheeks, “stay with me on the line though, i might need help with directions.”

“okay,” she chirped, “i’m right here. sitting so patiently.”

within a matter of minutes, aaron was pulling up to a mint green ford 500, a shadow poised on the roof. turning off the engine, he threw open the door, his throat tightening as he saw her.

her legs were dangling from the passenger side, eyes fixated on the stars, a dumb-founded grin plastered across her features, hair down, strands flowing in the breeze. she was still in the clothes from earlier: a pair of black skinny jeans, black v-neck sweater with white lines around the neckline and cuffs of the sleeves. the thick heels of her docs thudded gently against the windows as she kicked her feat rhythmically.

even in the dim light, he noticed the rose tint painting her cheeks, the way the reflection of the stars glossed over in her stare.

god, she was so beautiful, her skin glowing softly in the moonlight.

“hey,” he cleared his throat, concern creeping in as shards of glass glittered on the pavement below, “d-did you drink an entire bottle?”

“i like to drink my liquor like water,” rowan shrugged, her eyes brightening as they fell on aaron, “i’m so glad you came to get me.”

“c’mon,” aaron tsked, “haley won’t stop texting me. she’s getting impatient.”

“okay, okay,” rowan slid off the side, stumbling as her feet landed, “i’m so tired.”

“i bet you are,” he scoffed, “you need a change of clothes, some water, and a couple aspirin before you sleep though.”

offering her his elbow, aaron helped rowan into the car, spews of incoherent rambles flowing from her lips. every second she was onto another topic, giggling and mumbling to herself. as much as he wanted to be cross with her, as much as he wanted to scold her, he knew he couldn’t. he couldn’t make her upset.

he couldn’t blame her for her actions, for how she would cope with the horrors of the job.

a week had passed since the incident on the jet. afterwards, aaron avoided the subject like it his divorce. he wouldn’t accept that it happened, the emotions and feelings that came along with it. he didn’t want to face the facts. they carried too much weight.

but as she was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, her laugh so melodic and sweet, dripping like honey from her lips as she played with the radio, had him in a daze, corner of lips tugging into a smile, heart swelling at his new favorite sound.

and aaron hotchner wasn’t sure if he was beyond the point of no return, or just starting the journey there.

about an half an hour passed before he was leading her to his bedroom, careful that she didn’t slip or stumble, “you’re going to sleep here tonight.”

“what about you?” her lips curved into a pout, lip jutting out.

“i’ll be on the couch,” the response was cool, his voice low, “since you don’t have a change of clothes, i’m going to let you borrow some of mine, okay?”

“okay,” she nodded enthusiastically.

rummaging around in his dresser, aaron fished out a plain black shirt, along with a pair of sweats, “here, take these.”

rowan grasped the clothes, setting them on the bed. plopping on the edge of the mattress, she fiddled with the laces of her boots, kicking them off with a huff. aaron hovered, lingering as he discarded his coat, suit jacket, tie, and dress shoes. glancing down at his phone, his attention shifted as she rose to her feet, giving her some privacy as she changed.

one message in particular piqued his interest. a text from haley.

who was that?

shoving the phone back in his pocket, he bit back a sigh, “rowan are you-- oh my god.”

her body was exposed, a lace black thong on her lower half. beams of moonlight reflected off her flesh, like a sculptor highlighting the most beautiful aspects of his sculpture. but god, every part of her was so beautiful. from her soft thighs, to her strong shoulders, she was alluring, drawing aaron in.

blood flowed to his lower half the longer he stared, completely savoring the sight, his cock throbbing against the constraint of his slacks. a smirk crept onto her lips, cheeks still tainted a crimson hue as her gaze drifted towards his pants, “what, aaron?”

“rowan--”

“you want to suck on ‘em, aaron hotchner?” she cooed, grasping a breast in each hand, bouncing them ever so slightly, “i know you do.”

“rowan,” aaron swallowed thickly, scrambling to regain his composure, “you’re inebriated. please, put on a shirt.”

“do you not want to suck on them?”

“we need to get you to bed,” his tone was assertive, as if he was scolding jack, “please, put on a shirt and get in bed.”

“i wish you could sleep with me,” rowan mumbled, sliding into the shirt.

once again, he caught himself glancing over. the shirt was huge, barely clinging to her frame, tapering off about mid thigh. rowan folded her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing, “what aaron? are you going to help tuck me in or not?”

“sure rowan,” his annoyance dissolved, crumbling into a bliss as he padded over to the bed, helping throw the blanket over as she curled up, sinking into the sheets.

if only he could see her in his clothes every night. if only she could sleep in his bed every night.

if only she was sober enough to remember all this.

“goodnight aaron hotchner,” her voice was thick with sleep, eyes closed, slurred speech from the liquor, “thank you for being my knight in shining armor. even when i annoy you.”

“you’re welcome rowan,” a chuckled bubbled up in his throat, “you can always count on me to be there for you, even when you piss me off.”

“thank you,” she whispered.

“you’re welcome.”

running a hand through his hair, he exited from the room, pausing in the doorway. giving one last look over his shoulder, he ensured that she was asleep before he left. with each step, exhaustion seeped in, the idea of sleep so tantalizing. even if he was designated to the couch, he would be content. as long as it was a place to rest.

slumping onto the couch, he pulled a blanket over his body, finally at ease now that his son was asleep, as well as rowan. it seemed as if no matter how hard he tried to avoid her, to veer away from her path, they were always bumping into one another.

perhaps they were on separate paths, but always somehow intertwined.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

a wail pierced his eardrums, cutting into the night. blearily, aaron rubbed his eyes, checking his watch.

3:23 a.m.

concern grew as another cry echoed through the apartment, reverberating off the walls. fighting back a yawn, he got off the couch, prepared to comfort his son from a nightmare. it would only be a few words of reassurance, a pat or two on the back, and staying for a couple minutes. nothing that he wasn’t familiar with. clambering to the kitchen, he drew a glass of water, taking a sip.

however, as he approached the bedrooms, his heart lurched in his chest, an icy cold feeling coursing through his veins.

the cries were from his room.

pushing open the door to his room, his eyes widened at the scene unfolding before him. rowan was sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching her head, rocking back and forth.

“we should have saved them. we should have saved them. we should have saved them.”

“rowan?” he called out softly, in an attempt to pull her away from her nightmare, inching towards the bed, “rowan.”

“aaron?” she blinked, eyes glazed with tears.

“i’m here,” setting down the glass, he sat on the bed, “rowan, it’s okay. i’m here.”

carefully, he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest to alleviate any nausea. fingers glided through her hair. she buried her head into his chest, tears staining his button down, “we should have saved them.”

“i know, i know.”

“why are you still in your work clothes?” she sniffled, “you should get out of them.”

“i fell asleep on the couch.”

“you should stay here and hold me,” her voice faltered, words a broken whimper.

“do you want me to?” the words were delicate, his voice low and hushed.

“yes please.”

“give me a second and i’ll hold you,” lips brushed the crown of her head, “let me change into something more comfortable.”

minutes passed before a tender hand connected with her shoulder, “scoot over. you’re on my side.”

rowan obeyed, rolling onto her right side. his arms engulfed her, bringing her closer to his chest, head nuzzling into her neck. the moment his arms were around her, holding her snug in his tight embrace, she collapsed, any anxiety or worry disappearing completely, sleep taking hold.

“you need to rest, ro,” his breath fanned against her ear, “you’ve been through enough tonight.”

“you’ve been through a lot too,” she mumbled, “if anyone needs rest here, it’s you.”

his throat vibrated against her shoulder blade as he chuckled, “well i’ll sleep soon ro, i promise.”

“promise?”

aaron pressed one last kiss to her cheek, “i promise.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

sunlight filtered in through the blinds, her nose wrinkling as she stirred. reaching over, her heart skipped a beat as there was nothing but an empty void of cold sheets. jolting awake, rowan shot up, panting slightly.

“well good morning to you too.”

heat flared in her cheeks as she peered over in the direction of the all too familiar voice.

aaron hotchner was clad in a pair of pressed ink-colored slacks, and pearly white button up, threading a crimson tie around his neck, “how’d you sleep?”

the sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, the words gravelly, loaded with exhaustion.

“what time is it?”

“6:49 a.m.,” he straightened the tie, crossing over to his closet to retrieve the final piece of his uniform, “your clothes are in the bathroom, washed and folded.”

“oh god,” the blush deepened as fingertips grazed the soft cotton tee, “oh my god.”

“i’m giving you the day off,” he stated, shoving his arms into the jacket, “from the look of it, you need it.”

“but my car--”

he raised a foot to the bed, tying the laces of his dress shoes, “you can either stay here and completely sleep off that headache i know you have, or i can drive you up to your car. but, if you do end up staying, i have a favor to ask.”

“where’s my car?” her mind was foggy, her skull throbbing, “i can’t remember anything from last night.”

“the park off north and second.”

“oh,” chewing the inside of her cheek, rowan assessed the situation, “what’s this favor?”

clearly, she had done something to end up here. to end up in her boss’ bed. the only clear memory she could recollect was driving to the park, turning her car off, and bringing the bottle to her lips.

the rest was a blur.

“i need you to watch jack for me. his daycare provider has the flu and she doesn’t want him contracting it,” his tone was monotonous, as if he was speaking to her the way he did when they were at the bau, “also, you were beyond the point of coherence last night, called me, and i let you spend the night. i didn’t want you driving home or staying at a motel. i’m shocked that you could even speak cohesive sentences.”

“aaron, did i do anything weird?” rowan inquired, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

he paused, exhaling as he plucked the briefcase off the floor, “i mean, you were pretty much naked in front of me.”

“what--”

facing her, her neck burned as a smug grin enveloped his features, eyes glittering with amusement, “you’re quite the flirt when you’re drunk, you know that?”

beads of sweat formed as her forehead, palms clamming up, “oh my god that’s so unprofessional-- you’re my boss--”

“rowan, everything that’s happening right now is unprofessional. now, i don’t really have a set list of rules when it comes to watching jack. just make sure he gets an afternoon nap in, and no bullshit for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, you got that?”

“you realize that i’m trashed right now, right?”

“you don’t look it one bit,” he shot her a wink, her heart fluttering, “i’ll let you meet him when he wakes. he usually sleeps in till about 7:30, so you have a good half an hour to compose yourself. i would suggest taking a shower or at least brushing your hair to look nice.”

“he’s a child--” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“he’s my son,” his eyes hardened with a glare, “and you better take care of him.”

“aaron i can barely take care of myself.”

“well it’s good that i’m here, isn’t it?” he mused, glancing at his watch, “i have to go. call me if you need anything. i would’ve given you my number, but it seems that garcia already gave you it.”

“bye,” rowan murmured, “i’m sorry that i can’t be there.”

“don’t worry about it,” aaron leaned over the bed, pressing his lips to her temple for a chaste kiss, “i suggest taking a nap when jack does. you need it, ro.”

and just like that, he was out the door.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“what’s up with him?” rossi’s eyes narrowed as hotch stepped out of the elevator.

“i have no idea,” prentiss followed his movement, lips pursing, “is he.. is he smiling?”

“he never smiles.”

“hey,” reid cleared his throat, “you guys haven’t seen rowan today, have you?”

“who?” derek chimed in, cup of coffee in his grasp, “rivers?”

“she hasn’t come in yet this morning and she hasn’t answered her phone,” garcia announced, eyes widened with worry as she sipped her coffee, “i don’t know how legal this is but she had me track her car one time when she went on blind date with a guy from the town over. well, that’s besides the point. what worries me is that she left her car at some local park last night and it hasn’t moved since.”

“also,” prentiss stuck out a hand, “hotch was late.”

“he’s not late,” reid countered, “he’s--”

“we know he’s not late,” morgan snorted, “what she means is that hotch is always the first one here, no matter what. today he didn’t even show up till we were all here.”

“should we ask him about it?” prentiss arched a brow, “i mean, maybe he knows where rowan is. after all, he is the unit chief. he’s the one we call for sick days.”

“well lucky for you all you can hold an interrogation before we discuss this next case,” jj cut in, arms loaded with files, “since we’re all here, let’s head into the conference room.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the child teetered over to rowan, wide-eyed as she scoured the freezer, “ro-ro, what are you doing?”

“looking for pizza,” her voice is muffled by the door.

“pizza?”

“do you want some pizza?” she turned, a cardboard box in her hands, “i promise i won’t tell your dad. here, we can watch some cartoons while we wait for it to cook in the oven. would you like that?”

jack hotchner nodded, his blonde locks bobbing, “yes please. i won’t tell dad.”

“do you want to put the pizza in the oven?”

“yes!” jack jumped in place, nearly melting rowan’s heart.

swiveling on her heel, rowan searched for a pizza pan, ripping the box and peeling away the plastic covering. once she was finished, she placed the pizza on the pan, handing it to jack. carefully, rowan opened the door of the oven, “all right jack, be very careful. it’s really hot.”

“i’ll be careful,” he protested, allowing rowan to help guide his arms without touching the heated door.

“would you look at that,” rowan beamed, “you did such a good job jack! you can shut the door now.”

jack gripped the handle, pulling it shut, “i did it!”

“good job buddy!” the smile widened as she witnessed the pure excitement in his gaze, how he gushed and giggled at the praise.

god, he was such a cute kid.

scooping jack into her arms, rowan carried him over to the den, placing him on the couch, “what do you want to watch jack? do you like tom and jerry?”

“i love tom and jerry,” rowan couldn’t help but crack a smile as jack giggled, the sound utterly contagious.

“well, we’ll watch some tom and jerry then,” she chuckled, throwing the blanket over her, sharing some with jack as she plucked the remote off the coffee table.

“ro-ro how do you know my daddy?”

the question nearly sweeps rowan off her feet, desperate to formulate some sort of suitable answer. one that he would understand.

“we met at work. do you always ask so many questions? you sound like your dad.”

the t.v. flickered on, rowan clicking the button of the remote to find the right channel.

“i like uncle spencer but i think i like you more.” his words were slurred as he struggled to enunciate a few words, but it melted her heart nonetheless.

“am i your aunt?” rowan chuckled.

“no you were in the house this morning with daddy so obviously you’re my new mom.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“hotch, you’re never late, what was the hold up?” morgan’s tone was light with a tease, almost conniving.

“sorry, i had to arrange a new babysitter for jack. his usual daycare provider has the flu so i had to meet the new sitter to make sure everything was going to go smoothly,” the unit chief didn’t crack one bit, his focus honed in on the file before them.”

“well that’s inter--” morgan licked his lips, the words ceasing as a shrill ringtone filled the conference room.

“i better take this,” as his eyes scanned the called i.d., hotch rose from his seat, stepping away from the table.

“what is it? everything okay?”

“must be the babysitter,” rossi mused, drumming his fingers on the table.

“uh yeah your son thinks i’m new his mom,” her voice was light, shrill with laughter.

“did you tell him that?” fingers gravitated towards his temple, annoyance flaring.

“no he just thinks it,” he could picture her shrug.

“tell him that you’re not.” hotch shook his head, rubbing his forehead.

“aw well i’ve always wanted to be a mother someday--” she whined.

“rowan.”

“what am i supposed to tell him? just ‘no i’m not’? hotch, that sounds so mean,” hotch could almost hear his son in the background, giggling at whatever was going on.

“rowan we are not dating nor do i intend on having a child with you.”

“that’s not what your eyes said last night,” rowan murmured, the way her voice shifted nearly coating his cheeks a pink hue.

“i gotta go,” he muttered, “i’ll text you later.”

“wait--”

the line clicked before rowan could even finish, hotch shoving his phone back into his pocket. sucking in a deep breath, he faced his team, their eyes hungry, gleaming with satisfaction, a variety of smirks stretched across their lips.

“hotch, did you just say rowan?” prentiss folded her arms across her chest.

“no i said sharon.”

“so where is rowan again?” garcia inquired, pen scribbling doodles.

“she called in with a headache,” hotch responded coolly.

“well her car says she’s at the park off north so where is she?”

“who’s shannon? did you have date with her last night? tell us about it!” morgan jeered, taunting.

“rivers called me earlier this morning informing me that she had a migraine,” hotch muttered, “so are we done acting like children?”

the team nodded, their expressions unwavering. discussing the case was pure agony, everyone oogling at hotch as if he was some sort of creature, an alien from outer space. as much as aaron didn’t want to crack underneath their banter, he was well aware that they were profilers, trained to pick out every single fiber of one’s mind and behavior.

they could see right through him.

and he was an awful liar no less.

as the team departed from the room, scampering out, giggling like idiots, rossi lingered, coughing before he spoke, “i didn’t know rowan started a babysitting service.”

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about.” hotch stammered, tripping over the words.

rossi laid a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently, “mmmm okay, say hi to her for me when you check in later. i kinda miss the kid.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the apartment was silent, the t.v. on mute, light dancing across the room as aaron strolled in. jack was nowhere to be found, the silence nearly defeaming. heart thudding in his chest, he flocked to his room, relaxing as he saw his son sound asleep, chest rising and falling, in a pair of mickey mouse pajamas.

he was curled up with his favorite bear, night light illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. a weary sigh tumbled from aaron’s lips as he backtracked, making his way towards the den.

rowan was upright, head propped up by a hand as her lids drooped, lashes fluttering. believing she was deep in slumber, aaron, plopped down on the couch, throwing his head against the leather.

a single word, so soft and gentle, startled him, “hey.”

“hey,” he whispered, “i’m sorry for getting back so late.”

“what time is it?” rowan brought a hand to her mouth to conceal a yawn, stretching out her legs.

“a little past one in the morning.”

“oh shit,” she chuckled, the noise hoarse from sleep, “what was the case?”

“nothing that we couldn’t get taken care of within a matter of hours. i’m afraid the team was a little more rambunctious than usual today.”

“rambunctious?” rowan snorted, “that’s definitely not the same behavior analysis unit of quantico, virginia that i know. they’re never rambunctious.”

there was nothing more that he could have wanted more in that moment than to come home to her every night.

if only every night could be like this.

where he could come home, burdened by the stressors of his job, muscles sore from the physicality of it, head loaded with nothing but images of what he saw. what he heard. the monsters that lurked in the shadows.

yet, the moment he saw her, everything would just disappear.

nothing would matter.

nothing but her.

nothing but the heat of the moment.

“hey,” fingertips brushed her jawline, the touch feathery and light, “rowan?”

“yeah?” her irises were a stormy ocean, a torrent of blues and greys, glimmering with apprehension.

“come here.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @sapphicstars @colorlessfl0wers

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #thomas gibson #criminal minds fic #hotch x oc #hotch fluff #hotch smut #nc-17

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serensama · 4 years

Text

To Release #3

Jaehee needs to let MC go.

Years ago, I had asked the amazing @promiscuous-jalapeno to write a HC for me when I was too scared to write my own and she did an amazing job- tore me right up it did. I asked her shortly thereafter if she minded if I tried to do it and she was kind enough to encourage me. Nearly 4 years and I’ve finally done it.

Trigger warnings: Character death, mentions of blood and aneurysm.

This is for my friend, my sister- Susana. I don’t know how to let you go. But one day I will. And one day I will see you again. Rest well until then dear one.

This is for my baby, my puppy Meiko- run free my little one. I know you’ll be waiting for me too. Keep Susana company and keep her safe until we catch up, okay? Good Boy.

- It was just a routine check-up.

- It was the bane of her existence so of course she delayed it as far as possible because she hated doing it.

- But Jaehee wouldn’t relent when she found out the last time she had a pap smear was over six years ago.

- In amidst all the “I can’t believe you’ve been so irresponsible” or “You have to look after yourself” and “What were you doing before you started dating me?” she didn’t fail to hear what her girlfriend was truly saying, I love you and I want you to love yourself as much as I do.

- Which, if she was being honest was half the reason she stayed away from those little metal contraptions of pain was because she loved herself… but she was arguing semantics with herself and that wouldn’t get her anywhere. Or get her girlfriend to stop prodding her to go and get it done.

- So, Jaehee stopped nagging and just booked her in for an appointment.

- MC could still remember the instant rage she felt at hearing her just make a choice for her, especially when it came to her own body. Yes she understood that Jaehee had done it coming from a place of good and only with the purest of intents- but it still pissed of her off to no end. She almost threw the dough she was kneading right in her pretty face. “Jaehee, I’m not a child-”

“Well you’re certainly acting like it.” “Urgh! Stop it! I know that I needed to get tested but I wanted to do this in my own time, with my own doctors and-”

“I booked it in with your doctor.” “That’s not the point!” “We can reschedule the appointments to later if you wish.” “Yes! I will reschedule the… wait… appointments?” “Of course, our appointments. You don’t think I would ask you to do something you’re so obviously worried alone would you?” she asked wiping the sweat on her upper lip on the back of her arm, completely focused on finishing up the cleaning of the kitchen. Jaehee waited for a moment to see if she would answer before continuing with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You know me better than that. I may have booked you in without your knowledge but I was never going to force you into going. I just wanted to kick you into action is all. Your health is important to me. “… I know.” “I love you.”

“I know.” “That and no-one else makes cinnamon rolls as good as you can.”

“Ha, damn straight they don’t.”

- At the very least when MC finally lay there ready to be examined, with her hands fisted under her ass and legs embarrassingly spread flush against the bed, she was comforted by Jaehee’s soft caresses of her shoulder and her kind, encouraging words whispered into her ear- MC knew she was not alone. A favour she fully intended to repay once her girlfriend replaced her to be the one who was prodded and poked.

- It was over within 15 minutes for the both of them.

- She didn’t even know why she had kept putting it off. Yes it was awkward and uncomfortable but for the peace of mind it gave to Jaehee and the irreplaceable smile it drew upon her face, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Well. In the next three years at least.

- Life went much back to normal, day in and out at the coffee shop and then back home with her… she couldn’t ask for much more than that.

- She had all but forgotten about the test until she got a call three days later. She remembered her doctor’s voice on the other line asking if she wanted to come in and the instead dread that filled her veins at her tone. Why would they call if it was all normal? Why would they ask to speak face to face if it wasn’t serious? MC couldn’t recall exactly what she said but she knew it was in the lines of “just put me out of my misery.”

- But she couldn’t.

- She said they results were inconclusive and abnormal results didn’t necessarily mean the worst, however further testing needed to be done.

- Fine. More horrible tests. She could deal with that. She could. It was going to be fine.

- MC had delayed telling Jaehee, she didn’t know how to tell her. Whenever she rehearsed it in her head it always sounded like she was already saying her goodbyes and the last thing she wanted was to give her a coronary because she misspoke.

- It was only until the night before her next scheduled test that she finally gave in and told her. Just blurting it out without any preamble because no matter how she said it, her fear coloured her words.

- Jaehee… took it very well.

- Surprisingly well.

- She sat there for a couple of minutes, eyes fluttering for a moment before blinking rapidly, as if her brain was catching up and processing everything MC had just said to her. “So… at the moment they aren’t sure what it is and need to do further tests to make sure they can treat whatever it is you may have properly, is that correct?” she asked clasping her hands together in a way that reminded MC of Jumin after Saeyoung and Yoosung had just told him that they took Elizabeth the Third to the wrong groomers and they had shaved off all her fur bar her head and tail- like he was trying to figure out how to fix their mistake but also find a way to kick their asses. Jaehee may not want to kick her ass but it was as if she was attempting to already plan how to fix this all for her… and most likely disappointed in her for not telling her sooner. “I’m sorry okay?” MC sulked, pressing her palms against the top of her thighs, fingers scrunched in the fabric of her dress. “I know I messed up by not telling you sooner I just… I didn’t know how to. I don’t even know what to think at the moment.”

- Jaehee reached over, her dainty fingers curling around her own and giving them a reassuring squeeze. MC peered up from her lap and into her partner’s large eyes and returned her tentative smile. “Don’t apologise, I get it. I totally do. I’m not mad. You didn’t mess up- I just want to make sure I have all the details I need to help you. I’m coming to this a little later than you so I’m catching up and-” “Planning?” “Ah… yes. Yes I guess I am. Take the girl out of the Assistant role, but you can’t take the Assistant out of the girl.”

- MC could understand that. Everyone reacted things differently and if Jaehee needed to gather information and plan for all possible contingencies then she would not deny her that. Herself- she much preferred to wallow and stress because that was all she could do.

- Physical exam, Biopsy, Biopsy, Bloods and Physical exam, Imaging…

- She was really getting over seeing her doctors and sitting in waiting rooms. Getting real sick of Jaehee calling off sick with her to sit with her at every appointment and asking all the questions she should be asking herself.

- It was two weeks later after all the tests had come back, her hand in Jaehee’s, sat in two worn and uncomfortable armchairs that she received the news she had been dreading to hear. Stage 3. Spread to lymph nodes. Was Asymptomatic. Aggressive treatment for aggressive growth. Immediately. Shit. Shit.

- She could feel the squeeze of Jaehee’s hand tighten with each moment that passed. MC glanced to the side to see a calm veneer painted upon her girlfriend’s face as she nodded along with whatever the doctor was saying, interjecting whenever appropriate to ask more questions or to clarify something she may have misunderstood.

- MC on the other hand could barely talk, she believed she may have thanked the doctor and agreed to seeing them for a follow up and to start their treatment regime. She remembered picking up her bag and apologising to someone she ran into getting off the elevator. Recalled the feel of the cheap leather on the backseat of the taxi under her hands as she slid herself over to make room for Jaehee.

- After moments of silence, Jaehee cleared her throat and looked out the window. “Um.. what did you want for lunch?”

- And then she cried. Cried for her anxiety and her fear, cried for her frustration and her exhaustion, cried for herself and for Jaehee. She didn’t care that the driver kept looking up in his rear-view mirror to gawk at the sobbing mess she had become; all she could handle was the immense weight of what she was to face and the feel of her girlfriend’s hand slip into her own, the familiar feeling loosening up the shackles that were constricting her chest just that little bit. It was her turn to squeeze Jaehee’s hand.

- Being at hospital sucked. Like… s u c k e d.

- She hated that her friends couldn’t see her because they were afraid she’d get sicker and that Jaehee was taking even more time away from work to be with her. She was tired all the time and the room wouldn’t stop spinning, food tasted funny and she was just bored. MC was so used to running around from dawn till dusk, she was always talking to people and baking and laughing and… God, when was the last time she really laughed?

- … When was the last time Jaehee had laughed?

- She was always so calm and understanding it wanted to make her scream sometimes. But she kept quiet because… she just didn’t have any words.

- The surgery and first course of treatment went well enough that the doctors were happy for her to leave. Even though she was being wheeled out, it felt like she was dancing. She was never so happy to see the crowded streets and being stuck in a traffic jam. It was so much better than sitting in a hospital bed feeling sorry for herself.

- It was also better than watching Jaehee pouring over different journals and websites to better prepare of what may come in regards to her illness and other treatments which could help progress her rehabilitation. Or so she thought it would be, if the woman ever stopped.

- Jaehee was no longer working, putting more and more responsibility on the assistant manager than she should have been. No more.

- “Jaehee?” she called out from the sofa to her at the dining table, the woman looking so tiny amongst all the books that were open and the loose pieces of paper strewn about everywhere with her scribbled notes. Jaehee pushed up her glasses, something she hadn’t worn in the longest time and turned to face her. “Can we go to the coffee shop please? I’m really over just staying here doing nothing but watching daytime soaps. I can literally feel my brain rotting.”

Jaehee frowned and sat up, wincing as she stretched out the knotted muscles of her lower back and craning her neck side to side, loud cracks resounding in the air. “MC,” she began, the disapproval in her tone more than evident. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, you’re stabilised sure, but why should we take more risks than necessary?” she posed as she spun her body to completely face her.

- MC took in the sight of her. Hair pulled back into a messy bun, fingerprints all over the lenses on her glasses; clothes rumpled with a coffee stain down her front from where she accidentally spilled it on herself earlier that morning as she multi-tasked between balancing the shop’s books and researching if there were any homeopathic remedies that would help with her aches and pains to work alongside her prescribed drugs. Jaehee was burning herself out and if she didn’t take care of herself soon, the next time they’d be in hospital would be for her and there was no way she’d allow Jaehee to get that sick and drained ever again. She made that promise when she first joined the RFA and not this illness- not even Jaehee herself- would make her break her promise.

- “You took a risk on me and that paid off. You took a risk on the business with me… and that’s paid off… can’t you trust me about this again? It’s barely a risk at all. Just me in the corner with a book as you work.” She could see Jaehee’s resolve weaken as she gave her the best rendition of puppy eyes she could muster. Her beleaguered girlfriend pulled off her glasses and untied her hair, running her fingers through them as she let out a long, deep groan. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?” she grinned, the mirth not quite reaching her sleep deprived eyes.

- It took a while but they both learned how to adjust to their new normal. It took a little bit longer to get ready each day, making sure they had the right concoction of pills to last her until they made it back home and packing things like blankets, extra pillows or scarves to ensure her comfort at their cafe.

- MC had tried multiple spots within their quaint little shop, however trying to find a location that was both comfortable and in the direct line of vision of her lovely girlfriend proved difficult. This chair was too hard. That chair too soft. This chair she couldn’t see Jaehee except for a tuft of hair- until finally, on their fifth day and a lot of back pain later, she sat in the large wingback chair by the window, just to the left of the register. Jaehee would began to place a reserved sign there so no one could take the seat away from her beloved MC.

- Jaehee was grateful that they could spend time together like this, even if it meant just stealing looks at MC every so often whenever she got the chance. At night they would come home and curl up on the couch, both wrapped up in a quilt with a cup of tea in their hands as they watched whatever movie played on the TV. It didn’t matter because she never paid attention to it, she focused on the feel of the woman’s body beside her.

- Because it felt right to have her next to her.

- Because it felt right to hear her muted laughter, or how she sometimes slurped her tea near the end of the cup or just to hear the breath go in and out of her.

- … and because she knew all those things were beginning to fade.

- Although she had not succumbed to any of the viruses that had been around during the winter season, she grew more lethargic, her once healthy body slowly diminishing in size and strength; the beat of her heart strained under the hand she pressed against her sleeping girlfriend’s chest at night to make sure she was still with her.

- She had done that every night since they received the diagnosis. Every night.

- But she held it together, she had to. She had to do it for MC, to show her that she didn’t have to worry about anything besides getting better. It didn’t matter if she was being torn apart inside, or if she was falling behind in her work at the shop, that she never slept anymore or wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend this was just one long nightmare. It was for MC. She had to keep it together for MC.

- She had gotten worse. There was… it had spread too much… too aggressive… too fast. It was all too much and again, MC accepted it all, no words to say.

- That was when Jaehee decided upon the only correct plan moving forward.

- She spoke to Jumin. He had agreed to buy the shop from her on the proviso that when MC was better that she buy it back from him and continue on as per normal.

- That night, at home with a tub of ice cream, sitting alone on the floor of her living room did she allow herself a moment of weakness. From one tear free-falling from her eye to another, she allowed them to pool into the melting confection resting between her thighs. She had tried her best to stem the flow, reminding herself of the responsibilities she had and not to wallow but now that she allowed the dam of emotions open there was no stopping it. Jaehee bit down on her bottom lip and muffled cries eked through her teeth, racking breaths rattling through her chest as she dug the heels of her palms into her eyes- praying for her treacherous eyes to stop, just stop. Please.

- … Someone.

- Please make this all stop.

- Jaehee had fallen asleep slumped over the coffee table, eyes sore and face puffy from crying and one hand sticky from having been submerged in thawed ice cream for half the night.

- That was how MC found her, comforter wrapped around her like an adorable sleepy handroll. “Baby, did you sleep here all night? Is everything alright?” she asked her, the concern plain on her face. Jaehee fought with herself to not let her thoughts transfer to her expression, of course nothing was alright, it hadn’t been alright for a long time. However Jaehee was a fighter and so was MC, she would not admit defeat just yet.

“Oh yes, just a harder day at work than normal yesterday,” she lied as she slowly moved her way to stand up. MC grimaced at Jaehee’s sluggish and pained movements. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to come in yesterday and if that made you worry more. I’m much better today, I can go in-”

“That won’t be necessary we’re both staying home,” she replied matter-of-factly, side stepping around MC as she made her way to the kitchen to clean herself up. She heard the soft shuffles of MC’s feet patter behind her as well as a sound of confusion bubble within her throat. “Huh? What? No it’s fine, let me just clean up and we can go-” “We’re not. I sold the cafe.”

- MC nearly fell down at the revelation. “You what?” she asked, sleep hoarse voice breaking as she leaned against the wall for support, not trusting her knees to keep her standing. Jaehee wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel and sighed, not really in the mood to discuss anything without having caffeine in her body. “I sold the shop to Jumin. This way I can stay home with you and we can go to the all the doctors’ appointments together and try to figure this thing out step by step.” Jaehee flicked on the kettle and began preparing two cups, far too tired to brew anything so she reached for the instant coffee. “Jaehee-”

“Mm?”

“Stop.” “You don’t want coffee? Prefer tea?” “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” “I don’t understand-” “You need to get the cafe back from Jumin,” MC replied with more life in her voice than she had had for the last couple of weeks. Jaehee put down the teaspoon and braced herself against the countertop, head pressed against the cabinets lined along the wall. “You can’t stop living just because-” “Because you’re dying?” she yelled, not able to tear her eyes away from the spot on the wall. “I can’t change anything because you’ve resigned yourself to this without even a word for me? For yourself? How can you act like any of this isn’t driving you insane?! How can you stand there and just ask me to not do everything I can-”

- MC stepped forward and opened her arms, encompassing Jaehee into her quilt covered embrace, her arms holding her as tightly as she was able. “I know… I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t have the words. That I have nothing to say about what is happening to me. I’m sorry that I left you to speak and ask and do everything for me and also expect you to think of yourself,” she pulled away to see Jaehee’s with misty eyes and cheeks splattered with red. Delicately placing a hand against her cheek, MC pressed a faint kiss to the tip of her nose and breathed in time with her. “I know you’re busy looking out for me… let me… while I still can… let me look out for you.”

- The shop was back in Jaehee’s name within the day.

- As difficult as it was, MC managed to make it into work with Jaehee. Even as the days passed and she grew weaker, she still mustered the strength to smile at everyone who would stop and talk to her. She would ask for the gossip from regulars who she had learned so much about over the years. Jaehee would take frequent breaks to check up on her and to ask if she needed anything. MC would always just smile and ask for a new book from the stack their staff would always add to. Her heart full whenever their employees would come up at the start of the day and drop off another non-descript book for her to read or doodle over.

- Some days were good, some days were… not good.

- More and more often Jaehee would look over from serving a customer and MC was fast asleep, clutching a book to her like a child with their teddy.

- Every passing day it took so much more out of her to get to her chair, to drink her coffee, to turn a page… to smile. To hide her pain. There were days she was so heavily medicated that Jaehee had begged for her to go back home or ‘for God’s sake please let me take you to the hospital!’

- MC would always snap out of it enough to shake her head and reply, “Sorry Jaehee, I’m up to a really good part of the story. I need to finish it.”

- Then one day she didn’t.

- She had closed up shop, luckily it was a quiet day so she made the executive decision to finish up early. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be just a minute.” She was wiping down the last table just beside MC and looked over with a tired smile on her face, to see MC sleeping soundly- with her latest book on the ground. Jaehee could feel her heart leap up in the base of her throat, her breath stolen away in an instant. Slowly but steadily she walked over to MC, deliberately clicking her heels loudly against the floor to wake her. When she reached her chair she let her hand hover over her face to see if she could feel her warm breath against her palm. She pressed her cheek. Shook at her- her body completely limp as it sank against the armrest.

- Jaehee plummeted to her knees and dove into MC’s lap, the woman screaming into it as she allowed herself to cry, praying that her girlfriend would come back and lay her hands atop her head and run her fingers through her hair. To touch her, hold her, god damn it just- anything. Wiping her face against the blanket that rested upon MC’s legs, Jaehee hiccoughed and spluttered, not caring if any passer-by happened to see her on the floor in tears. She swiped at her face haphazardly, knowing that her skin would be red and irritated from her lack of care. Fighting to regain her breath that continued to elude her, lungs burning, eyes stinging, heart cold.

- On her hands and knees she moved to pick up the fallen book from the ground, eyes scanning for a title to see what were the last words that may have graced her consciousness.

“… I’m sorry I’ve left it to these pages Jaehee, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say the words when you needed them. I may not have them still... but maybe you can find them now- somewhere in these last few diaries I have written for you. My thoughts. My fears. My dreams. My love for you.. Every hope. Every wish, It’s all here and all for you. The greatest part of my story. I love you.”

- Jaehee squeezed her eyes shut and wailed, her cries filling the largely empty space, echoing back to her. Sitting back onto her haunches she tried to steady herself as best as she could, clutching the book to her chest like she had seen MC do countless of times. Perhaps if she held it hard enough, it would start to resemble the way it felt to hold her- and if she pushed the realms of her imagination- the way it felt to be held.

- Jaehee couldn’t bring herself to read any of the 4 diaries MC had written. She couldn’t. She knew that MC meant them to be comforting, maybe even assist her in moving on- but she didn’t want to comforted, she didn’t want to move on. She had cordoned off MC’s chair and table, with a permanent ‘reserved’ sign to ensure no one would be able to sit where only she belonged. There, perched upon the table in a neat pile, were the books; gathering dust in between the weekly dusting that one of the staff members were tasked to do.

- That was until half a year later, when one of the regular’s children had slipped under the velvet rope and sat in the chair, the young girl picking up on of MC’s books and tried to read her beautiful, looping script. Jaehee had briefly looked up and had to double take, not even realising she had screamed out; scaring the child who shoved the book back into the pile of books frantically trying her best to not earn more of the “coffee-lady’s” ire. Her panicked efforts resulted in all the books falling to the ground- the loud thuds only punctuating the already silenced café.

The mother apologised to Jaehee feverishly, she had been speaking to her friend and didn’t realise that her daughter had wandered off- didn’t know the girl had gone to the place she had once spent so much time with MC just months before.

- Jaehee pinched the sides of her nose and waved off the apology, bending down to apologise for frightening the little girl who had helped to bring joy to her girlfriend’s last months. Even though her nerves were frazzled, she knew that MC would be clucking her tongue disapprovingly at her, something that oddly enough made her smile. She had been doing that more often lately. Smiling at something MC had said or done instead of collapsing into a despairing heap.

- Jaehee ran her hands along the arm of the chair and whispered her hellos and her apologies for letting someone disturb her spot before picking up the books off the ground. She went to reach for the last book which dropped open to a random page, the paper slightly crinkled from the fall. She could feel the tell-tale pin pricks in her nose and the corners of her eyes as her fingers cradled the back of its spine, balancing precariously on the curve of her fingers.

- There on the top of the page was the recipe for her famous cinnamon rolls, something Jaehee had tried her best to replicate again and again when her lover was alive to no avail. No one made them better than MC. Jaehee sniffed as she found herself sitting into the long abandoned chair as she tearfully read the secrets MC had left for her on the page. The brunette paused to see a small note in the corner: “The reason mine were better was because I always made them for you. Now please, keep making them for me.”

- Jaehee wiped the last remnants of her tears from her face and then nodded to herself. Moving to the kitchens she washed her hands and wrapped MC’s apron around her waist. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed up her sleeves and got to work.

#mystic messenger #mysme fanfic #jaehee x mc #angst #mysme headcanon #mysmes

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

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You’re a WHAT

Kanene’s Notes:

I’m weak for carzy scenarios and glitter, so BOOOM!! Why don’t get these two things together??? :D)/ This fic marks the end of my break, I will be (trying to) going back to my old projects and probably won’t be writing for some weeks kjnhgfvghjkjhg. Wish me luck! <33

This wasn’t suppose to take so much to be written but I lost my PC and life got in the way :v Buuuut! I manage to finish it and I already count this as a victory! xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Remy and Roman. They’re friendos yay :3. Oh, and this is pretty crazy. Context: The morning after Black Friday when you’re grumpy and wanting to kick the society in the face. A LOT of swearing, Patton does not approve.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 2.900 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Try and have fun with new hobbies, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman thought himself as a really lucky human being. Unbelievable lucky.

It wasn't due to the apartment where he currently lived - Too much dull for his personal taste and space, getting even smaller from the day he admitted a messy, sassy and with sleep problems roommate, since Roman just started his musical career and couldn't afford an own house yet. - or the fact that was finally able to pursue his dream after years and years of just picturing, painting this moment on his future, only to find out his fantastic breathtaking and incredible goals weren’t nearly close of the cold reality, at least for now (Who would know that, after umpteenth days of hard studying and training he would need years and years of experience in order to even START wondering in get out of his partial-time job on that Electronic Store) or any other reason someone would be able to consider himself a receptacle of pure, brute luck, enlightened by the spotlights of the good, pleasant destiny...

... Or at least the most pleasant it could be in the horrible and exhaustive middle of the night after a whole day filled with his attempts to survive and treat respectfully the unmerciful, dirty jungle that humanity was at Black Friday. Something around fifteen hours working with massive hordes of unscrupulous zombies starved for a sale and able to even kill and die (more likely the first option) to get what they want and with souls (if they still got one) free of any slight sight of education, patience and morals to be inserted in a society which, as it seemed, was equally rotten as them. View point only proved as Roman was obligated to be working after his shift to "clean all the mess" - more like hide the bodies of exhausted warriors after such bloody battle. – the store because those sons of a...

"... Bitch, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!" The poor, frustrated employed shouted to nowhere specific, his face turning towards the sky, seeking in some way to show his all his hate to the cinematography - because this was too much coincidence to NOT be part of a movie or some random fanfic on the black hole that was internet - rain falling at full force leading the weather to became even more freezing as soaked them both with its cool, thick drops.

Anyway, what he was daydreaming about?

"Roman." Oh, yeah, the reason why he viewed himself as a truly lucky person. "My gurl, if you try to impersonate a fucking, dramatic, bitch crow in my ear even again, I swear in the name of my life juice bean that I'm going to KILL you with my bare hands and these sunglasses."

At least his best friend since, honestly, diapers, who coincidentally was his roommate and even more coincidentally, his coworker was just screwed as Roman himself. Which automatically made the duo less screwed, however equally pissed off, something that neither of them discovered if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

"Fuck you, Remy" Roman whispered between an tired yawn, too much tired to even think about some nickname or to put real heat in his words as he got instinctively closer to the other, the one called taking off his jacket and lazily throwing it over their heads, doing his best to cover they both with the small available black leathered fabric, the act intertwined with grumpy grumbling and motions which would probably slap Roman's face if he wasn't careful. "I'm the one who buys your coffee."

"Having my incredible, unique personality in your life should be motivation enough for you to buy me the entire Starbucks Company, be glad I'm weak to your cute face and am going easy on ya."

" 'Cute'? Excuse me, I'm the most handsome, hottest and fabulous man you will ever met in your lowly life, mortal."

Remy snorted at this "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe, but if it's going to be like that your ego soon will have to pay his part at the rent."

"Well, this 'ego' here was the only thing between your highness and jail after stopping you from committing all those murders today."

"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't use my contacts to hide the evidences." Their tune were already completely sleepy, bodies instinctively leaning onto each other as the words stumbled, mixed and almost lost themselves in the soundly wind as slipped from their lips. Roman just laughed.

"Well, if by ‘contacts’ mean 'Virgil' good luck getting him out of his bed on his free day. You would became the fucking new King Arthur." Roman rubbed his eyes, trying to physically force his eyelashes to not close, a new yawn finding its way to his mouth. He didn't even know about what they were talking anymore.

"I roll the dice to cast Badass Nerd Bitch."

“Logan??”

“He likes to study nature stuff, especially at night, I’m sure he already knows some good spots to hide bodies. Glasses.”

“Glasses?”

“Glasses.”

“OMG, the anime character with glasses.” Roman stopped, his mouth wide open as if all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to him.

“Exactly.” Remy extended each syllable, grinning smugly.

“I’ve never-“

“THIS IS A ROBERY!!”

The sentence, which appeared to came out from nowhere, cut the air in a harsh, sharp tune, breaking the barriers and tying them up in the same place in a frozen position and wide eyes staring astonished the hooded form and their unreadable features under the bad illumination of the light poles helped by the increased storm. The wind trespassed them, stirring their clothes and making the muscles shake both of the alone employees in the middle of a dark, empty street at the dawn, even if the dangerously shiny knife directed towards their direction still in a hatred silence.

“My.” Roman knew he probably should be afraid, the freezing feeling running across his veins and frightening his brain and actions as infected his words in an unspeakable terror impossible to ignore nor escape. “fucking.” However, the only thing that slipped through his next was the purest, deepest, truest... “ASS.” Indignation.

Roman thought about a lot of things. He thought about running away, grabbing Remy’s arm and sprinting across the street, about scream in the top of his lungs the waterfall of swearing already racing half way to his throat and even about kicking the knife out of the other’s hands and then kicking him - with a couple of cool moves he saw in some actions films - together with their frecking audacity to try to rob him of all the people in the world. Roman, who asked himself if he would have enough money to eat in the next week with a concerning frequency, who wondered if this is the life he will have until the end of his existence, if he will ever be able to accomplish his dreams.

His gaze changed to Remy, who was paralyzed, trembling between the poor light of the street and the massive rain. Roman swallowed. Everything was in his hands.

For a piece of Roman felt the strange urge to spill to the figure before him the story of his life, all his tries, all his battles, his everyday fights to make his dreams real. Blow by blow. Day by day. A life destined to go after everything he wished to himself, everything he wanted to life, to experience, to savor, to do everything in his hands to ignore and one day maybe, hopefully forget all the ghosts - these ones always accompanied by those emotionless, sharp whispers - asking, doubting nonstop if he ever would be able to do all of this, if he was doing the rights thing, if it was really worth all of it.

However, before the first word even slipped of Roman’s tongue or his mind came fully back to Earth, Remy was already positioning himself strategically between the robber and his friend, the currently only one with the leather jacket falling on his shoulders. However, Remy didn’t seem nearly soaked as he should be, and for a heartbeat, the same one which Remy moved his hands to his jeans’ pocket, his fingers touching and firmly holding something there, Roman could swear that the unexpectedly shiver running across his spine wasn’t due the cold wind.

Nor the sentence hurled in the clouds.

“You know what?? Fuck it.”

And then he unsheathed his magic wand.

Roman loved with the entirety of his heart all kind of magic, he could easily spend an entire afternoon (which he already had, by the way) listing his favorites movies, musicals and stories with that theme. That also could be easily said by the thousands and thousands of worlds, universes and lifes he invented – in and out of his head - about the subject trough his childhood and handful of teenage years, random ideas and inspirations appearing and dancing in his mind until nowadays. If that only wasn’t enough to convince someone then the umpteenth memories of mornings and afternoons bathed in the smell of books, rocked by the calm silene of the public library as he turned one more page, his back lightly aching by the bad position assumed behind the shelters, in a place he strategically found and claimed as his own Bridge to Terabithia, enjoying every moment as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps you wouldn’t even need to swim in such deep, ancient waters to find out his love, since at least fifty percent of his day was dedicated to shout, hummer or murmur Disney songs.

However, as rays of pure energy - shiny and kind of glittery one - involved and swirled from Remy’s, who now was floating a few centimeters above the ground, wand in stripes that got lighter and lighter, begging to spin faster around the aforementioned, creating a spere of a power stunning and big enough to stop the rain in the corner.

The silence resulting from the lack of the storm didn’t had the opportunity to fill the moment, being obligated to give its space to a soft, intense melody whispered in their ears. The notes standing some more moments in the air, the beating following the changes in the shadowed figure inside the spere. Hesitations taking over the loud, quick heartbeats when the song finally stopped.

The power’s spere finally exploded, the impact leading to an unbelief and intensive force push both human meters away.

“Get. Out.” Remy’s tune still the same, his form – Now adorned by a gleaming crop top, his fluttering skirt over shorts floating in synchrony with the veils which surrounded his clothes and wrapping his arms, the ending spreading in the air as a bunch of angry powered and fancy snakes. - even with the new vestments full of glitter (this probably would be a hell to get off, later) still the same, his gaze, powerful – a new meaning pouring from this word – strong, still the same. But yet…

Yet his wide eyed, heart hammering in his chest friend since he could remember found himself struggling to connect the same Remy who he had known – if he could still say that? - all his life with the same being who gleamed dangerously before him.

The magic wand danced in a quick flick and a trash can came of what seemed nowhere to hit the wobbled and absolutely terrified robber, who fell with a soft thumph in the ground, unconscious.

“-man, Roman!!! Don’t just stay standing there like a tree, help me here, gurl!” Suddenly the called snapped from his own sea of thoughts, submerging and astonished blinking in Remy’s direction. The rain started to fell on them again, and when their eyes met, when Roman saw the same guy who spent afternoons climbing trees and pretending they were knights and dragons attacking or saving the world, when he recalled the silent sleepovers where they just sat near of each other enjoying the mutual company, the grumpy mornings in their apartment, the comfort hugs, the looks full of words, the smiles filled with meaning, the friendship stuffed with so many, many memories...

Nostalgia. The feeling that everything was changed albeit something… something important always stayed. Roman felt, truly felt it and fixed his glare into that brilliant – quite literally - glare adorned with a ‘I’m about to punch your cocky face if you keep fucking narrating every freaking second of your life, ya bitch’ he realized...

It was Remy.

He took a deep breath, moving closer and gradually relaxing as the aforementioned focused in trying to lift the guy, swearing more frequently than raindrops fell from the sky.

“Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“First crush.”

The other stopped, frowning confused. Roman didn’t quiver, feeling he deserved some sort of answer. At least about this. “What?”

“My first crush. Who?”

“Kovu.” Remy maybe was a bit cold hearted, maybe he wasn’t the best with human interactions or knew exactly what Roman wanted with that… but he knew Roman enough to realize this was important. Essentially when the said seemed to relax, his form untensing itself and being allowed to get closer of the magic being.

“Okay. Okay, okay…” Roman took a deep breath, grounding himself. Their gaze met, his next words coming a little calmer. “Okay.”

“Please don’t make me sing that serenate you made for him. I’m gonna fucking quit.”

“Oh, shut up!! Our first love is something special, mister I-Can’t-Choose-Between-The-Beast-And-The-Beauty.”

Remy decided to ignore the words, slightly lowing his sunglasses with his special Judgmental ‘Bold of you to assume I have enough shame to be mocked’ Look. Roman just flipped in his direction, taking advantage that the other’s hands were occupied.

It was still Remy, with a whole more of style and glitter – Why are there so much glitter here?? - but it was just Remy. Like just any other day.

Before he even realized, Roman was already at his friend’s - and as it seems a magical being - side, helping him to carry the robber’s body to somewhere dry so he wouldn’t die of hypothermia.

“Why don’t you- Ouch!! My feet, dammit!” His breaths came out as puffs, the effort leading to his already exhausted muscles only protest even more and very much probably curse him later with sore movements for the audacity to transport anything heavier than a pen. “Why don’t you use your... Wizard magic or something to carry him??”

“Oh. My. Gosh. Roman, you are sooo intelligent, why aren’t you in Harvard? Ow! Ow! Ow!!” Remy’s sarcasm was cut when the other kicked, or did his best to with their actual position, him in protest. “Homophobic.” He exhaled a mix of irritation and a snort, receiving a playful punch in his arm by their inside joke. “I’m your Fairy Godmother, brainless. Unless it was you laid in this stupid, cold ground I can’t use my magic anymore... Except if this is someone of your family but I doubt-”

“Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!!! YOU ARE MY FAIRY GODM-”

“No, no way, nope, we are NOT having this conversation right now.” Remy, the Fairy Godmother let go of the unconscious body in a way that probably will make the guy wake up sore, perhaps with a concussion even, directing his index finger in Roman’s direction in a deep, determined stare full of darkness and things that Roman could swear would make Remy be expelled from the group of Friendly Fairy GodmotherS or whatever... thing he was inserted. “Let me tell you what we are doing right now: We are going to home, change our clothes then I’m getting coffee and you will get sleep so I don’t have to face nor care about the freak consequences of my damn actions.”

...

“That...” Roman stop, as if was considering his next words. Remy’s face just scrunched in a bigger, firmer frown. “That would be hella scary if you didn’t look like someone who just stole a store of glitter and got attacked by the gay, glitterly, shiny fairies who protected the place.”

“Go fuck yourself. I’m locking you outside when we get there.”

“Noo, please don’t! My evil stepmother didn’t let me go to the prince castle and now I need help! Crying emoji, crying emoji.” Roman mocked, imitating sad sobs and sniffles as quick his pace to follow the other, who flipped him.

“I’m this far from knock you out with my magical wand and then you will see who is the evil stepmother.” His wand gleamed in warning, the red color getting mixed and trembled by the fast movements of his veils, one of them getting dangerously next to Roman’s face, who cleverly got silent for some heartbeats, the sound of the rain slowly calming their heartbeats and rocking them, the tiredness gaining the space which, piece by piece, was being unhanded by their adrenaline.

They arrived home, both still quiet, feeling free as a relieved sign left their lips. Remy threw his soaked jacket in some dark corner, the bed being the only thing which was allowed to take over all his thoughts and will.

An awed gasp echoed behind him and he immediately regretted his move.

“YOU HAVE WINGS????”

Before his eyelashes closed, the shiny of the wand disappearing gradually as an ungodly amount of sleepiness gained complete control over his body, relaxing each one of his fibers and as a warm, magic good feeling fills every single cell in his being, Roman wondered if ‘Fuck it’ was the name of Remy’s spell.

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

803

Do you have a fan/air conditioning on right now? I have a fan turned up at the highest level right beside me. It’s been so humid all day but the air outside is getting colder and it’s obviously going to rain soon, so at least it’s not as hot as it’s been. When was the last time you sang along with a song? Which one was it? Earlier today while watching Descendants of the Sun – I FINALLY FINISHED IT AAAAHHH. Thank fuck it was a happy ending, I was giddy enough with the final scenes that I sang along to the background music, heh. I remember an anon recommending Who Are You: School 2015 to me, so I might watch that next :) Are you currently wearing any hair accessories? Which ones? Yes. I have a simple black hair tie that I’m using for a ponytail now. Have you ever wished you had a different name? Which name would you choose? I definitely wished this as a kid, but I’ve warmed up to my name now especially after hearing more people tell me that they like it. Back when I disliked my name I insisted on being called my second name, which is Isabelle. Do you often press the wrong keys on the keyboard? Only when I’m typing in a hurry. Otherwise I’ve got a good hold of the keyboard.

Have you ever customised an item of clothing? What did you do to it? Other than the time we had a customized dress made for my prom, no. I don’t do DIY, so I wouldn’t be able to pull that off. When was the last time you got a splinter stuck in you? D: Probably in high school. Do you prefer drawing or painting? Any particular reason why? I like painting, but only with those paint-by-number kits that already come with a guide and an outline. I find those kits therapeutic. I have absolutely no hand control when it comes to pencils and I’ve never been able to follow drawing guides, even the simplest and most basic ones, so I’ve never enjoyed drawing. Are you saving up for anything right now? What? Not at the moment. I’m just savoring the time I have left at home before I have to get my ass up and start looking for a job. Are you any good at playing pinball? I guess, but I’m no expert. Close to a decade ago there’d be long stretches of time where we’d have no internet at home – because Philippines – and I’d have no choice but to play hours of either solitaire or pinball on my old laptop. Eventually I got skilled enough on both. Do you own any figurines? Of what? I have action figures, if they mean the same thing. I have a couple figures of AJ Lee that have stayed inside their packaging the entire time I’ve had them. If you have any siblings, how much rivalry is between you all? Zero. All three of us have different skills and interests, so it’s pointless to pin us against each other. When did you last have itchy eyes? Last night my left eye was starting to act up, so out of annoyance I rubbed it really hard. If forced to go camping, would you rather sleep in a tent or a caravan? If I was forced and I didn’t want to go through it at all, I’d take the caravan. But if it’s a camping trip that I had planned for in advance and was something I was looking forward to, I prefer the full experience and would go with the tent. Is it dark outside right now? Yes, it’s nearly nine in the evening. How often do you get jealous of other people? What is it usually about? Not very often. As someone who’s a little materialistic, I get envious more than jealous. Do you prefer framed photos or just sticking photos straight onto walls? Framing them. I don’t think sticking photos is the smartest thing to do with a painted wall. What's your favourite type of cake? Cheeeeeeeeeesecake. Have you ever woken up from a dream and believed it to have been real? Only for a few moments after waking up, but it’s easy for me to go back to real life and realize what’s a dream and what isn’t. When was the last time you brushed your teeth? This morning. How tired are you right now? I’m a little drowsy and it sucks that I can’t drink coffee until Tuesday because of my antibiotics prescription, because I don’t feel like sleeping yet. I’ll take a shower after this survey and I hope that’ll wake me up for a bit. When was the last time you had an argument with someone? What was it about? Not strictly an argument but more of a civil debate - Gab and I were discussing whether it’s okay to be furious with celebrities to the point of harassing them if they’re found to be silent in matters such as Black Lives Matter, and whether normal people hold the responsibility to educate these celebrities whenever they act like they’re unaware. If there's a bug in your room, can you sleep or do you need to get it out? Get it out. How long have you gone without sleep? Today? It’s been 13 hours. Can you drive yet? How good are you at it? Yes, I’ve been driving since I started college. I’d say I’ve gotten very skilled in the last few years. I’m not always the safest (I tend to weave in and out of lanes especially once I get bored in traffic, OR if everyone around me seems to be a dumbass with crazy slow reaction times) but I’ve never put anyone I’ve ever driven in harm; so as crazy as I get sometimes, my friends still always choose to ride with me and that’s the biggest compliment ever lol. Do you prefer travelling alone or with people? WITH PEOPLE. Traveling is one of the things I can never imagine doing alone. Did you listen to the radio today? Technically. My favorite station does livestreams on Facebook, and I caught several of them throughout today. What was the last baby animal you saw? I saw a pup roaming around the street this afternoon. Generally speaking, is it warmer or colder in your house than outside? A little warmer at the moment. When was the last time you threw up? The last time I felt like throwing up was last Wednesday, though nothing came up. The last time I actually threw up was sometime in like April or May last year. Do you give people high fives or hugs more often? Hugs. I barely go for high fives. Have you ever tie-dyed something? We had to do it with a shirt in a Grade 7 class, but that was the one time I ever did it. It’s not really something that interests me. Name something you thought was cool when you were younger but don't now: Lisa Frank. How long does it usually take you to get to sleep? Depends on the temperature and/or how tired I am. I have to tire myself out; I can’t just close my eyes whenever I want and expect to doze off. When did you last get a papercut? It’s been a WHILE, thank goodness. I can’t even tell you when. High school, probably? Which do you prefer: Blackboards or whiteboards? Just for nostalgia’s sake, blackboards. I haven’t seen one or written on one since high school since we have whiteboards or just straight-up projectors in university. What sort of things do you have bookmarked in your internet browser? Surveys to take, links for various classes in college that I should really be un-bookmarking now to save on space because I don’t need them anymore, movies I want to watch, recipes I want to try...it’s really mostly for-future-reference stuff. Are / were you spoilt? Would others agree or disagree with you? I’m spoiled in the context of our family in that I often got what I asked for, and if I was told no, I could typically pull out a pout to get what I wanted lol. But I was never spoiled rotten in that I’d lie on the floor and kicked around if things didn’t go my way and I never disrespected my parents or yelled at them, or threw a fit if the phone they bought wasn’t in the color I liked, etc. I just had one trick up my sleeve, but I never abused it. Still, compared to my siblings, I’m probably the most ~spoiled. What are you wearing right now? I’m wearing a tank top and shorts, but I really should be showering after posting this. What was the last book you read? I reread some chapters from Crazy is my Superpower last week.

#survey #surveys

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mxstshamelesswoman · 4 years

Text

49 questions I’ve never been asked tagmeme

Thanks @oediebees for tagging me to answer some random questions :D tbh feel like I don’t know that many peoples on here so I’ll tag @enemy0gene @halcyonnhood @kitsnicketts and also any of my followers who want to do this, answer some questions. Let’s get this thing going :D:D

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

I have really long thick hair, so I have about 4 different brushes and combs. I have a shower comb that’s light blue, a purple hairbrush, a yellow and pink hairbrush, and I think I might have a green one too somewhere.

2. A food you never eat?

I cannot stand mayonnaise, ketchup or other condiments.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

I feel like it alternates, but usually I’m too cold.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Driving my mom’s car

5. What is your favorite candy bar?

I really love York bars, with mint in them.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

I’ve been to a Rockies game. I really want to see a professional MMA match, but we’ll see.

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

Told my brother where to find his shoes.

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

Mint chocolate chip or butter pecan

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Milk, probably. I’m a cold glass of milk in the morning.

10. Do you like your wallet?

Yeah, I guess. It’s a rip off of Yves Saint Laurent that I got from some street cart in Turkey.

11. What was the last thing you ate?

I had a waffle with some strawberries for breakfast.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope. I haven’t gotten new clothes since last winter, I haven’t really needed any. I think I might buy some cute bras soon, I moved up a cup size :/

13. The last sporting event you watched?

I have no idea...I watched like 5 minutes of some tennis match rerun on TV the other day, does that count.

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

I love caramel kettle corn.

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to?

My dad

16. Ever go camping?

Yes! I love camping, I actually went backpacking last with some classmates as part of our school’s orientation program. We went to Shenandoah Valley in Virginia and it was really awesome. Before I’ve been with my family and on some group trips. I really want to go on a big camping trip with just friends and no family.

17. Do you take vitamins?

I take one of those gummy multivitamins everyday, don’t really know if it does anything but my dad’s kind of a nut about that stuff so I just do it. I also take those vitamin c packets you put in water, more as like yummy juice than anything else.

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?

I’m Muslim, so that’s a big nope. I also don’t go to Masjid on Fridays (I did while I was at school, but not since coronavirus and never before going to college) I’ve been to church a couple of times for friend’s holy communions and family friend’s baptisms.

19. Do you have a tan?

Kinda. My skin is pretty tan, but I’d love to just sunbathe and get a good tan going.

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Probably Chinese food, but good Chinese food, not like Panda Express or something.

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?

Don’t drink soda so I guess that answer is no.

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

Usually grey or black, depending on what I’m wearing. I wear neon socks when I go running, because they’re fun.

23. Ever drive above the speed limit?

Omg, yes. It’s really bad, but there’s a lot of roads in my town that have like a “unofficial speed limit” that’s usually 5-10 mph higher than the actual limit.

24. What terrifies you?

Everything. Real question is what doesn’t. I’m so scared for the future, especially the immediate future with coronavirus, and the state of our world and the election.

25. Look to your left what do you see?

The couch back up to the wall in the office. My dad’s weird giant globe. My dog’s leash, abandoned on the couch where my brother left it after walking the dog. A pretty painting of some white flowers.

26. What chore do you hate?

I hate filling the dishwasher with dirty dishes. I just don’t like touching dirty dishes in general.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

The Hemsworth brothers, tbh. Or my friend Sydney, who got her name because she was born on the first day of the Sydney olympics.

28. What is your favorite soda?

I haven’t really had soda in a few years, but I really like Izzy’s which I guess might be soda. I like La Croix too.

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through?

Always drive through. I hate going them, always smell like grease and bleach.

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

My brothers,

31. Favorite cut of beef?

I love a good steak, so probably some cut of steak.

32. Last song you listened to?

Right this minute, I’m listening to Lego House by Ed Sheeran. Before this, it was Bright by Echosmith.

33. Last book you read?

Right now, I’m reading How to do Nothing by Jenny Odell, but the last book I finished before this was We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will be Killed with our Families by Phillip Gourevitch, which details the Rwandan genocide and its progression. It’s really graphic and depressing, but a good read.

34. Favorite day of the week?

I really love Tuesdays and Fridays. I feel like they both have really good vibes. Nowadays though, all days feel the same.

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

Probably yeah. I tried just now and my dog started staring at me like I had three heads.

36. How do you like your coffee?

Little cream, a lot of sugar.

37. Favorite pair of shoes?

I have ratty pair of black vans I like. And a pair of faux leather half cut cowboy boots.

38. At what time do you usually go to bed?

I get in bed by around 10 but I don’t fall asleep until like midnight.

39. At what time do you normally get up?

6:30 or 7, I like to go for runs in the morning before work.

40. What do you prefer - sunrises or sunsets?

Sunsets, they’re so calming.

41. How many blankets are on your bed?

I have 4 blankets on my bed right now, along with a plain old sheet. By the time I wake up, usually all but one have been karate kicked off the bed by yours truly.

42. Describe your kitchen plates?

Um, at school I have just one blue plastic one, cause that’s all I need. At home, we have these white square ones with green flowers on them.

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

I don’t drink alcohol, but my friends make these mocktails out of grapefruit juice and Sprite that I like. I also like mojito gummy bears, so maybe I'd like mojitos.

44. Do you play cards?

Yeah, I like poker, usually play 5 card draw. I also like Speed, Spoons, and BS, which I feel are more childish games but very fun.

45. Can you change a tire?

Do I know how to? Yes. Would I be able to physically use the jack and lift a tire if I needed to? Guess we’ll see if I ever end up with a flat.

46. What is your favorite province?

In Canada? British Columbia, I really love Victoria Island.

47. Favorite job you ever had?

Right now, I’m an intern at a nonprofit and it’s a really great job.

48. How did you get your biggest scar?

I have a lot of stretch marks, which I guess are scars? I was really small as a kid, because I was born premature, with a lot of growth issues. When those all got fixed, I shot up and out, and so I ended up with a crap ton of stretch marks, especially on my back, legs, ass and boobs.

49. What did you do today that made someone happy?

I haven’t done much of anything today, but I went to see this car and that made my dad happy, even though I didn’t want to. So I guess that.

If anyone read this to the end, thanks for playing along. If you decide to do it, tag me, I wanna see other people’s responses!

#questions #tagmeme #answer #play along #allaboutme #procrastinating #now and always #also just bored

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hereticpriest · 5 years

Text

Powdered Sugar Chapter 2

Warnings: Kinda nsfw I guess? Nothing actually happens, it’s just thoughts and not super descriptive. Descriptions of domestic violence. Reference to past rape.

Duncan changes before going over to Margaery’s for dinner, though he can’t necessarily nail down the reason why. He puts on a black sweater he hasn’t worn yet and a pair of trim black pants, fixes his hair, and grabs his bottle of retirement whiskey in case Minnie feels like indulging. With such a short walk between houses, he can’t imagine why not. He’s surprisingly fond of his new neighbour, which may have something to do with his instinct to protect kicking in, and perhaps something to do with the fact that he wants her. Both feelings often lived together, as did his insufferable interest in women far younger than him.

When he approaches Margaery’s cabin, he notices her through the window singing while her dog, Theo, dances around her feet and howls along with her. From what he can hear, her voice is beautiful, but scratchy with disuse. He heads to the door and knocks gently, listening to her hush the dog and call out that she’s coming. He hears a crash and almost instinctively opens the door but stops himself.

“Are you okay?” he shouts, and he hears muffled cursing before a response.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, sorry, I just kicked my gun safe on accident.” Minnie says just before opening the door hunched over with her left foot crossed over her right knee, her hand squeezing her toes. She smiles wryly at him, adjusting her cozy socks, “Sorry, I was going to wear normal socks, but the floor is cold unless you’re by the fire.”

Duncan simply nods, stepping past her into the house when she moves aside for him. He removes his shoes and holds up the bottle he’d brought, smile tugging at his lips when she cheers. The house smells amazing, and he finds himself drawn towards her kitchen. She’s dressed comfortably in a pair of black leggings and a navy sweater dress with pockets in the front, a metal lighter in one pocket and a pack of cigarettes in the other. He likes it. He’s used to his flashy world of bright colours and women dressed in tiny clothes. It is surprisingly sexy to see a woman dressed comfortably. Is this what happens when you retire? You get old and suddenly cozy socks and leggings are sexier than miniskirts and backless dresses?

Minnie smiles as she watches Duncan breathe in the smell of their dinner, Theo hot on his heels for pets. When he bends down to pet the dog, she eyes him appreciatively for a moment before heading over to check the lasagna.

“Hey, Duncan? Can you set the table while I finish the salad? Don’t worry, it’s not a boring salad. I put some effort into it actually being worth eating.” Minnie laughs to herself, slicing grapes into halves with practiced ease. She feeds a couple of slices of apple to Theo as she goes, listening to the gentle sounds of clinking as Duncan puts down plates and cutlery.

“Thank you.” Minnie’s voice is low, almost a purr. She finds it comforting that Duncan is so quiet. He fits into the comfortable hum of her cabin, the only sounds usually the crackling of her fireplace, Theo panting, and the occasional record on her old record player. She sometimes sings, but that is a recent development. She hasn’t felt comfortable or happy enough to sing in a long, long time.

“Are you a hunter?” Duncan asks, his voice quiet and rumbly, and she can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine.

“Oh, no. I mean, I can… I know how. My dad was a hunter. They’re for… self defense.” Minnie swallows around the lump in her throat, “I should… actually tell you this. As my neighbour. I just… I just don’t w-wanna ruin the mood before we eat.”

“It won’t.” Duncan replies simply, opening the bottle of whiskey and picking up the two glasses she had laid out. He pours them both two fingers and slides the glass across the island to her.

“Thank you. Uhm, I… I moved out here for a reason. I was dating a guy and it… I mean, it was the typical abuse story, you know? He was nice and then he began verbally abusing me, and then gaslighting me, and then punching my teeth in. Then, he’d soothe me and apology and say it was never going to happen again. Eventually, after he got drunk one night and raped me when I refused him, I broke out of things and decided to leave. He duct-taped my mouth, tied me up in the basement and kept me there for a week before I managed to get free. He raped me while he had me down there, but he didn’t hit me. I was tied up, so he didn’t feel the need, I guess. The police were fucking useless, as there were no reports of abuse and no evidence of him holding me hostage. He beat the shit out of me again, but a neighbour got me out while he was sleeping and brought me to a women’s shelter. Lived there for a while, got better, got an apartment. Got Theo. And then he found me.” Minnie isn’t looking at him, but she can feel his eyes on her. Theo lays at her feet, comforting her with his presence.

“I got away again, packed up all my shit, and found this cabin. I had been training with my gun since I got away from him the first time. It’s been… Nearly a year, actually, since I left him. Hard to believe.” Minnie licked her lower lip, finally looking up at Duncan. He looked murderous, but she wasn’t afraid of him in that moment, oddly enough. She felt safe, surprisingly.

“What does he look like? And his name.” Duncan asks, and Minnie finds a picture on her phone for him. He looks around Minnie’s age, broad chested and shouldered, maybe the same height as Duncan. His hair is brown, cut short military style, and his eyes are a cold blue.

“His name is Cody Grant.” Minnie informs him quietly, setting the salad on the table and taking the lasagna out to rest and cool before they eat. Duncan sits after she gently touches his shoulder, the contact drawing him out of the dozen imaginary murder scenarios going on in his head. They eat in relative silence, both being quite quiet people in general even without the emotional story. Minnie serves the lasagna when they finish their salad, with Duncan giving soft praise of the salad for being a good mix of vegetables and fruits that actually tasted good instead of tasting like bland lettuce. The lasagna goes down with the same silence followed by quiet appreciation, and the two down the rest of their whiskey nearly in unison.

“Dinner was nice.” Duncan says as he leads Minnie out onto the porch to smoke. Minnie smiles in return, putting her hand over his when he begins to take a cigarette of his own out.

“We can share, Duncan. I don’t know if I want a whole one right now.” Minnie hums, flicking open her lighter and lighting one of her own. She takes a long drag off of it, then hands it over to Duncan, shivering as a gust of wind bit through her clothes. A warm jacket is placed around her shoulders, and she sighs contently, bumping her hip against Duncan’s.

“Thank you, cher.” Minnie hums, taking the cigarette from his lips and taking another deep pull from it. She can feel Duncan’s eyes boring into her, but she doesn’t feel scared. Another puff, and she lifts the cigarette to Duncan, her fingertips brushing his lips as she slid the cigarette between them. It almost felt like he was leaning in to the touch.

“D-do you w-wanna stay for a movie? Uhm… uh unless you’ve got plans, of course?” Minnie hesitated, but Duncan merely nodded.

“I was just going to watch one at home. Company would be better.” Duncan replies, taking a puff from his cigarette, then stubbing it out and walking back into the cabin with her. They watch a romantic comedy together, tucked onto her little sofa together. It surprises her how quickly she finds herself comfortable with Duncan, but he is just a very easy person to be around. Theo lays at their feet, dozing away in the light and heat of the fire. Minnie falls asleep just before the credits, curled up against Duncan’s side. Duncan joins her moments later, the warmth of a body against his lulling him to sleep.

When Minnie wakes, Duncan is gone. His jacket is still draped around her, and she’s tucked under a blanket. The fire has been fueled again so that it wouldn’t die on her, and Theo has only moved a couple of feet through the night. She sighs, surprised to have slept without nightmares, and stretches until a series of pops in her joints break the silence. She makes breakfast, letting out Theo partway through cooking when he wakes up to the smell of bacon. In a particularly good mood, Minnie decides to go into town after breakfast to return her DVDs and perhaps rent a couple more. Her day is dull, but she sees Duncan when he goes outside to smoke, and she waves at him from her own porch, a smile tugging at her lips.

They spend the next couple of days together in one way or another. On Monday, Duncan goes out to chop wood while Minnie is out for a run, and by the time she returns, he’s lost his sweater and his undershirt. She watches for a moment, feeling somehow like she’s seeing something she shouldn’t be seeing, especially when she notices his vast collection of scars. She had noticed the first time she had seen him shirtless, but this was a longer view, and she wasn’t nearly as shocked. When Duncan notices her, he gives a little wave, so she approaches and tries to look at anything but his chest. He’s got a lovely coat of fur on his chest and belly, and she has an awful itch to see how thick it is around his dick. The thought of which immediately has her blushing, taking a not-so-subtle look at his crotch, and stammering about needing to check something at her house. Duncan watches her go, partly because he’s questioning what the hell just happened, and partly because she’s wearing yoga pants that hug her ass so tightly it looks like they’re painted on.

Tuesday, Minnie brings Duncan some croissants and muffins, claiming they are extras from the batches she made and that she’ll never be able to eat them all on her own. Duncan does not complain and is very pleased when the sight of him in his reading glasses has her blushing and stammering again on her way out.

Wednesday, they meet in town for lunch at the local diner and then have dinner at Duncan’s cabin, where they once again drink too much and fall asleep watching a movie. Minnie wakes from a nightmare to Duncan holding her against him, petting her hair and shushing her. She takes advantage of the moment to snuggle in close, enjoying the gentle human contact after so long without. Duncan lulls her to relaxation again, then carries her back to her cabin and tucks her into bed. He lets Theo out for her, then puts him back in the house and heads home to find rest for himself again.

Thursday, his accountant calls to arrange an appointment to look into some issues with his other properties, and he agrees to a meeting on Monday. He spends most of the day trying to decide whether or not it is a good idea to ask his neighbour to go with him. He waits until after dinner, knocking at her cabin door and asking if she minds company. He’s brought a book, and she understands his intentions, so they end up sitting on the couch together with quiet piano music in the background. Her feet are under his thigh, and he occasionally takes a break from reading to rub her ankles and calves when his eyes get sore. It feels right, and good, and neither of them say it, but they both wonder if there’s such a thing as ‘meant to be’. Duncan doesn’t ask her about Seattle until he’s about to leave, and he’s shocked when Minnie agrees to spend Saturday to Tuesday with him. She doesn’t complain when he says he’ll pay for Theo to be boarded, and for her flight, and for the hotel. Minnie just thanks him sweetly and presses a kiss to his stubbly cheek.

Friday, Duncan arranges the trip. He shells out, because he can and because he wants a little bite of what his life used to be. He wants to make Minnie feel special, part of him hoping his actions can speak louder than his words since he can’t seem to find the right ones to tell Minnie how he feels. They’ve known each other less than a month, but he feels at home with her, and his retirement is beginning to feel quite good. He checks in with Minnie in the afternoon to find her packed and cheery, cupcakes littering every counter and her table. She gives him one, and when he gets icing in his moustache, she wipes it away with her thumb, then leans in to kiss away another smudge of icing on the corner of his lips. He melts into it, tilting his head and kissing her as if she were as delicate as a butterfly wing. Minnie feels safe, and warm, and home. Once the kiss is broken, she presses her forehead to his and brushes her nose against his with a smile.

Duncan thinks for a moment that maybe this is what peace feels like.

#polar au #polar #mads mikkelsen #duncan vizla #duncan vizla/oc #duncan vizla/original character

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Watford Cove

Chapter 1: i got that summertime sadness

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word count: 3097

Chapter: 1/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Baz Pitch only cares about smoking, skipping school, and riding his motorcycle. That is, until he meets a beautiful new kid who is bright everywhere Baz is dark. But a lot of things stand between them. Can they find a way together? Or will it keep them apart? Based on "Punk/Pastel AU" request.

Read on AO3

AN: IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINALLY DONE!!! If you’ve followed me for awhile, you know this fic has taken a few months, what with it's length, my stupid job, and my stupid health problems. But I did it!!!! And I really hope it's worth the wait. Despite obstacles, I certainly enjoyed writing it, and I’m glad it was requested. I'm going to try to post a chapter twice or three times a week, but with all my stupid shit I can't guarantee a consistent schedule. I'll try though. Everything is already written. I just need to edit and tighten it all up. But I also sometimes work ten hour shifts which suck ass. Real life is terrible. Finally, ginormous thank you to @carryonmylovelies. I know I thank her a lot, but I really do mean it. I struggled a lot, both with actually writing and my self esteem as I tried to get this finish. She encouraged and helped me so much. There were many low points, but she helped me out of them every time. I never would've finished this fic without her there. Thank you sweetie. Now, finally, enjoy the punk/pastel au! :D

———————————————-

Baz

“Stop blowing smoke at me, Baz,” Dev grumbles.

“I’m not blowing at you,” I say plainly, “you’re just sitting downwind.”

“Then stop smoking.”

I take a deep drag and blow the fumes out slowly. Dev waves his hand as he glares at me. “Make me, cousin.”

Dev keeps glaring, but soon moves to my other side. I chuckle and offer him my Marlboro pack. He snatches it like a child grabbing a toy. Niall takes a stick as well.

This is our morning routine, now restarted with the new summer term. Sitting on the picnic bench under a tree, watching our school entrance, smoking like the cool teenage delinquents we think we are. Most people look at us for only a moment then scuttle away. The leather jackets and combat boots really up the intimidation factor. It’s the way I like it. Everyone fifteen feet away and properly scared of me. As they should be.

“Hey,” Niall says, “is that kid new? He doesn’t look familiar.” He points his cigarette towards the sea of kids at the entrance.

“Which one? Be specific, Niall,” I reply.

“The one with the pink sweater and practical fucking halo, that’s who.”

He points more insistently, and I look harder. Then I nearly drop my own cigarette.

At first, his back is to us, but then he turns, and I swear it’s in goddamn slow motion. Niall’s right. The light shines through his messy bronze curls, making them glow like a halo. His skin is another shade of gold and covered in freckles and moles. It looks like someone ripped the stars out of the sky and put them on his face. And his smile is so bright it’s like staring into the sun. The pastel pink sweater, faded cuffed jeans, and checkered Vans only help his angelically soft appearance. And his eyes, holy shit. They’re not even a typically interesting blue. Not cornflower or navy, not with a shot of hazel or violet. They’re just...blue. Yet, they’re perfect.

My pulse is beating in my ears. The world has narrowed down to just him. I’m so enthralled that I don’t notice him looking back. He’s blinking in confusion, probably wondering why this leather jacket wearing punk is staring at him. But surprisingly, he doesn’t turn away like most people. He just keeps looking, big blue eyes roaming over me repeatedly. He’s not afraid. Not like everyone else knows they should be.

I used to be known for my careful decision making. But that’s been out the window for awhile. So I meet New Kid’s gaze from across the field, and unabashedly wink.

His entire tawny face goes bright red. He turns back to whoever he was speaking to, and is soon getting dragged into the Watford School building. I quickly see that it’s Penelope Bunce hauling him in. She glares at me viciously. I scoff. Bunce has always hated me, even before I became like this. We were academic rivals until last year. Now she probably thinks I’m just a bad influence on whoever she’s been contracted to welcome to our institue. And she’s probably right. Though, I wonder if her new friend would agree...

“Hm,” I say quietly, “new kid is cute.”

“Dude,” Dev sighs, “he’s like, a fucking bubbly sunshine Instagram model. You have literally zero chance.”

“Still cute.”

“You have the most masochistic taste in men, mate,” Niall unneededly interjects before taking a drag.

I take a drag myself, smirking around the smoke. “Don’t I know it.”

———————————————-

“Mr. Pitch,” Miss Possibelf says with utter exasperation, “I’m glad you’ve finally decided to join us.”

“Apologies, Miss,” I reply smoothly as I stroll into the room, twenty minutes late. “Traffic is an absolute nightmare today.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Just take your seat please.”

I do as she says, taking the one empty desk pair. Dev and Niall aren’t here so I prefer to sit alone. I kick my feet up on the table, putting my arms behind my head. Miss Possibelf doesn’t look angry at me though, just...disappointed. I try to ignore the way that makes my gut twist. Miss Possibelf has been here for ages. She knew my mother. And out of all the teachers at Watford, she views me with the most sadness. I fucking hate it.

Miss continues her lesson. I have to make a stubborn effort not to listen, but it’s effective. I keep my eyes closed and mentally go over my violin practice, the calming music swimming through my brain with ease. I can practically see the see notes behind my eyes. It’s one of the few things I haven’t dropped since entering this “rebellious phase” as my father calls it. Besides, I probably already know what Miss Possibelf is talking about. I was very far ahead last year.

“Ah, hello, can I help you?” Miss Possibelf says.

“Uh, is this Miss Possibelf’s year 12 English?” A nervous, rough accented voice asks.

“Yes, it is. And you are?”

“I-I’m Simon. I’m new, and my schedule says I’m in here.”

“Oh, I’ve been expecting you. Come up here and introduce yourself please.”

There are quick steps moving towards the front of the class. New kid? Hm, Watford isn’t a very big school. And I would’ve noticed anyone else new. I wonder...

I let my eyes half open, and they immediately focus on a baby pink sweater. I open them all the way. He’s standing at the front, books in hand, smiling nervously. He looks like an adorable, broad shouldered, puppy.

“Uh, hi,” he says shakily, “my name is Simon Salisbury. I-I’m from Lancashire and I’ve just moved. Um, I like pop music and scones and old swords. And...yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Miss nods politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Salisbury. Please take a seat. I’ll give you some catch-up work after class to make sure you’re up to speed.”

Miss Possibelf gestures to the room. But the thing is, the desk next to me is the only free space. Simon obviously notices, considering the way his eyes go wide and his cheeks go red. Miss Possibelf gives me a look that says, “play nice, Basilton.” Please. I’m an arsehole, not a monster. And besides, Simon’s too pretty to mess with. Not in any permanently damaging way, that is.

I give Simon the biggest shit eating grin and wiggle my fingers. His face gets even more red. As if he can get any more adorable. He scurries towards me and takes the seat, but doesn’t look up. Poor nervous thing.

“Hello again,” I whisper, as Miss Possibelf has started lecturing again.

“H-Hi,” he replies in an equally hushed voice. “I’m Simon.”

“So you said before.”

“Oh oh, right. Uh, what’s your name?”

“Baz.”

“Huh, that’s a weird name.”

I let out a small scoff. “Gee, thanks.”

“Sorry!” He says hurriedly, picking at his sweater sleeve. “Sorry, I speak without thinking a lot.”

My mouth quickly forms into a half smile. I can’t help it. He’s too cute. “It’s alright. I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

He flushes even more. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Basilton, stop distracting Mr. Salisbury,” Miss Possibelf sighs, back still turned.

“Will do, Miss,” I reply. I flick my eyes over to Simon and mouth “sorry” with a smirk. He shrugs, smiling shyly as he mouths back “it’s okay.”

Simon looks back at the board, opening his notebook to take down Miss Possibelf’s loopy cursive writing. I close my eyes again. But I can't think of notes, only the pastel pretty boy right next to me. So every time I open them, I slide them over to Simon. He’s usually looking at the board, but a couple of times, he’s looking back. He always immediately looks away when our gazes meet. Hm, he’s even cuter up close. That may mean trouble for me. And I’ve come to quite enjoy trouble.

———————————————-

Leaving school is always bittersweet. For one thing, it means leaving a painful place, where too many bad things have happened. Things I would very much like to forget. But then I have to go home, a place where I am even more of a constant disappointment.

The only good thing is riding there.

My bike is parked just off school property because Watford has some stupid policy against motorcycles. Like that will stop me. I saunter over to it with my helmet in hand and inspect it for any damage (Someone spray painted it once and I’ve been paranoid ever since.) But it’s perfect, still stupidly large and frighteningly black as ever. I run my hand over the cool, smooth metal. It's almost electric to my skin. And to think, I used to make fun of people obsessed with their mode of transportation.

I’m putting on my helmet when my eyes catch on someone specific for the third time today. He’s standing near the school entrance staring at me, again. His blue eyes are bigger than saucer plates. The motorcycle is impressive to some, and I’m glad it’s impressive to him. I give Simon a little salute, then start the engine. It loudly roars to life. I take one last look at him as I speed away, smugly pleased at his awestruck expression.

Watford Cove, named for the small schoolhouse the town formed around and the shining ocean just to the west, is objectively beautiful. Lots of low roof fisherman’s houses, old forestry, and rolling green hills. It almost looks like a dream. And definitely looks like it belongs on a postcard. A cool breeze is almost always drifting off the water, so many of the richer folk built their houses on the hills, closer to the sun’s kinder, warming rays. My family's house falls into that category. And though I really do hate going home, the path there is as gorgeous as the rest of the town.

The straight streets turn into a winding road up our hill. I always challenge myself to see how low I can get to the ground each time. By now I can nearly kiss the concrete. I tilt so close the metal lets out a high pitched screech. My helmet hovers a few inches over the road. It’s the perfect mix of fear and excitement I like. At the top, the path becomes unpaved, dirty, and hidden by a canopy of tree trees. Wildflowers of every shade grow here too. Mother always loved the wildflowers. I try not to look, letting them just be colourful blurs as I race past.

Far too soon, I’m pulling up to the annoyingly big family mansion and parking my bike just behind the garage. Father prefers it to not be visible. He’s a true Brit; out of sight, out of mind. Sometimes I wish he used the same logic with me. It seems I’m always on his mind, unfortunately.

“Good afternoon, Basilton,” Vera says cheerily. She’s out watching my sisters as they play in our obscenely large yard. “How was school?”

I take off my helmet and run a hand over my sweaty hair. “Dreadful, as always.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, love. I guess this is a bad time to let you know that your father wants to see you. Apologies.”

I sigh. Father wants to discuss something with me. Must be a day that ends in a y. “It’s fine, Vera. Thank you for telling me.”

She nods, and her smile says, good luck. I nod back, because I might need it, even if I don't want it.

I walk into my father’s office with all the confidence he likely wishes I didn’t have. I don’t even bother to knock. The two of us are long past those sort of polite formalities. He’s sitting in his comfy leather chair, dressed in his suit. Because he’s the kind of man who casually wears tailored jet black suits at home. He doesn’t look up at me, of course.

“Good day, Father,” I say, not even trying to hide the annoyance in my voice. “Vera said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly. “Please sit down, Basilton.”

I throw myself into the armchair, making sure it rattles loudly against the floor. Father finally lifts his eyes to meet mine. Though it’s not much of a reaction for most people, it’s as good as yelling for him.

He leans back, fingers laced in front of him. Seriously, could he be any more of a Bond villain? “We have something important to discuss, Basilton.”

“Is this about my bike again? Because I told you, I’m not getting rid of it. It’s a total bloke magnet.” His lips press together, and I try not to smile. In the past year, I’ve found great enjoyment in getting under his stupid, prejudiced skin. Especially with my sexuality.

“No, that’s not it. I received something in the mail today.”

“Oh? And why should I care?”

“Because, it was your report card from last term.”

Shit. I resist the urge to grip the armrests. I don’t want him to see how anxious that makes me. I don’t want to be anxious. I don’t want to care at all about school or what he thinks.

“I see,” I drawl out. “Do you have an opinion or are you just informing me that it’s in your possession? If it’s the latter, you’re wasting my time.”

His lips tighten even more. I can tell he’s barely hanging onto his anger at me. I’m not sure if I should leave before the explosion or keep poking him to see how far I can get. He reaches into his desk and pulls out a small pack of stapled papers, dropping it on the desk. I recognise Watford’s letterhead, and my name of course. I try not to react to the series of Ds listed next to every class.

“You barely passed, Basil,” he says darkly. “A few points less and you would be repeating the term. Which is the same as the last few terms. I am...beyond disappointed.”

I wave a finger around with a deadpan expression. “I’ll alert the presses. ‘Extra, extra, Malcolm Grimm finds another reason to be disappointed in his fairy son.’”

He slams his hands on the table and stands up. I jolt, because that’s the most I’ve seen him react to...anything. His face is still neutral though. That hardly ever changes. But I can see a few hairline cracks in his facade. The corner of his lip twitching, his brow pulling together slightly.

“This is not a joke, Basilton. This is your future. Ever since last year, you’ve been letting everything you’ve worked for fall apart.”

“And whose fault is that?” I hiss.

“Your’s.” He points a long accusatory finger at me. “You made the choice to disregard your schooling to be some delinquent. I was only pushing you to help you do better. But you decided it was too much. And really Basil, what would your mother thi-”

It’s my turn to slam my hands on the table, which thankfully shuts him up. I meet his gaze unflinchingly. I hope he can see the fire in mine. “Don’t you use her,” I growl. “Don’t you dare use her memory for your own selfish means. She deserves better treatment than that. And I don’t give a shit about school now because of you. So do not use her to fix your fuck up.”

He glares, but I glare back just as hard. We’re both equally stubborn bastards. And he can’t intimidate me any more. I refuse to let him have any power over me. Slowly, but surely, we both sit back down, eyes still locked and refusing to concede. He weaves his fingers again. I can see the tension in his knuckles very clearly.

“My point, Basil,” he says with cold emphasis, “is that I can’t tolerate this behaviour anymore. The defiance, the truancy, everything. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, which have all been ignored. So I’m giving you a final choice: get at least a B average this term, or I’m sending you to a boarding school for wayward boys for year 13, in Switzerland.”

I inhale sharply. My whole body goes cold. I have to keep myself from shaking with fear and rage. I run through every possible scenario, every hell I’ll be subjected to. The thought of being alone in a foreign country, with people I won’t know, with adults who will try to ‘get me in line’, scares the absolute living shit out of me. My father keeps looking at me with his bored expression, and I want to sock him in the jaw. Just to make him react like the real human he supposedly is.

“You cannot be serious,” I growl.

“Dead serious,” he says. “I hate to do this, Basilton, but you leave me no choice. Just try harder at school and it won’t happen.”

I push back the chair with flourish, nearly knocking it over so I can glare down at him. “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at me with stupid indifference. I sneer and walk away, slamming the door behind me very loudly. I hope it rattles his bookshelves and maybe a few fillings.

I keep stomping outside to my bike, then rev the engine loud enough so Father hears. I drive too fast with no destination in mind. Just flying down backroads and letting the world blur into nothing. Pretend it fades away like I wish it would.

Soon, I find myself at the top of Mount Olympus. At least that’s what Mother called it. It’s barely even a hill on top of our hill, really. But it’s the best place to see the stars. I park my bike near the bottom and stomp to the top. I stare out into the sunset, like the tragic hero I like to think I am, when really I'm just a mopey, pathetic teenager. I feel calmer here though. There are many good memories here. Ones I’d rather think about than what my father said.

I sit down, knees brought up to my chin and arms around my legs like a pouting child. Tears threaten to spill but I don’t let them. I haven’t cried in years, and I absolutely refuse to start now. I’m stronger nowadays, or at least I think I am.

So, I’ve got three months before I’m sent away for probably a very long time. Guess I’ll see how much Hell I can raise until then.

———————————————-

AN: Hope you liked that first chapter. It mostly sets up the major parts of the story. Next time: Baz is at a new level of "fuck it", so what will he do now?

Chapter title is from “Summertime Sadness” by Lana Del Rey

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #punk/pastel #fluff #angst #chaptered #mysnowbazfic

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samingtonwilson · 6 years

Text

New Balance: (1) Sleep Aide

new balance masterlist

Summary: Boxing AU. Bucky Barnes, once someone sunlight dulled in comparison to, is angry. At himself, at his metal arm, at the US Army, at the National Boxing Association, at the universe. Boxing cools that down a little but you provide him with balance, with the silence to his violence. And he’s your salvage.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language, talk about marijuana (is that a warning?)

A/N: in the first few parts, things are partially inspired by creed. but only in the first few parts. idk i hope this is good lol, the reading character is one of my fav that i’ve ever written. gif below is not mine

He didn’t think moving a few boxes up a couple of flights of stairs would render his flesh arm sore— he didn’t think soreness was even a possibility for the appendage anymore unless under extreme circumstances.

But as Bucky stood in the middle of his new shared living room, stacks of cardboard boxes labelled “Books” and “Shit to be THROWN OUT” staring right back at him, he took a deep breath and flexed his fingers— flesh and metal alike.

The apartment looked much smaller in person than it did when Steve gave him the grand FaceTime tour just two weeks before. Walls were bluer, furniture was more worn out, the view was shittier. So much so that he wasn’t sure if he’d just romanticized the idea of leaving Silicon Valley to a point that his memory embellished the Downtown Los Angeles apartment into some sort of nirvana rather than the thinly-walled loft it really was.

It wasn’t as if it was a bad place to live—at least that’s what he told himself in order to justify the rent he’d be paying half of. Smells from the Middle Eastern restaurant only a few floors below wafted up a bit too much and the laundry room didn’t have the front-loading machines he was used to, but he wasn’t living on Skid Row and Steve agreed to cover him when finances went south— he convinced himself that constituted a win.

A clock bolted onto the wall a few feet from the door read half-past three in the morning, the bright neon green numbers burning his tired eyes, which he rubbed with tired fingers, which he then dragged down tired legs. He didn’t think there was a cell in his body that wasn’t exhausted, purple undertones beneath his lower lashline and unhealed bruises splotched over his left ribs a clear indication of that, yet peaceful sleep evaded him.

He’d given up after two hours of conscious tossing and turning, and two hours of restless, sweaty sleep marred with nightmarish flashbacks of desert sand, splattering blood, and terrified civilians allowed to wear the facial expression he was required to suppress.

It didn’t help that the music from the apartment below his made the floors practically vibrate, a heavy stench of marijuana flowing in through the vents. It’s what pulled him from his bedroom in the first place and the sudden switch in song reminded him as such, breaking his focus from the ache that had long ago settled in his bones and the numerous boxes containing what remained of his possessions.

Now Bucky Barnes had never been any sort of a square, he liked a good joint and a song he could shut his eyes and drown out his thoughts to as much as the next person— but it was a Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, his arm was sore, his ribs still pulsated subtly, and he had to begin his search for a decent back-up gym in just four hours. It may have been his mind that partially kept him from sleeping, but he would be damned if he blamed himself entirely for yet another thing.

He shut the door softly behind him and started down the stairs, the sound of metal digits against the wooden railing drowned out by the continuing beats. He shook his head to himself, muttering, “Gonna kick this guy’s ass.”

He began pounding on the door the sound and smoke came from, flesh fist battering the splintering barrier relentlessly until the soreness became too much. He set his hands on either side of the doorframe, his head bowed so growing chocolate brown hair fell into his field of vision and his back was relaxingly curved.

He resorted to kicking the door then, the heel and ball of his foot rapping against the chipped paint three times before he stood up straight and lifted his palm with the intention of continuing the assault.

The music clicked off the instant the door was thrown open. And Bucky found himself staring.

Eyebrows knit together in frustration, lined eyes half-lidded from the smoke he could see ribbons of in his peripheral vision, and lips chewed raw, you stood with your paint-stained left hand still wrapped firmly around the doorknob and your right hand clutching an angle brush. You tilted your head expectantly.

He cleared his throat, gaze downcast to regroup focus only to follow the length of your bare legs peeking out from under a faded denim button-up shirt. He shook his head then and met your dilated eyes once more. “I’m Bucky. James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You narrowed your eyes further. “Okay?”

He wondered if his lips were smiling or if they’d fallen in a frown. “I just— I just moved in upstairs. 5-D.”

“With Mr. Rogers?”

“‘Mr. Rogers’?” he asked as he found his own head tilting.

“Yeah. You know, like the old guy that used to be on PBS. Wore shawl collar cardigans and ties, had the little trains.”

He nodded after a moment, chuckling. He leant his shoulder against the wall beside him. “Right, Mr. Rogers. S’a dig at Steve’s behavior, I get it.”

You let go of the doorknob and crossed your arms over your chest, frowning when he neglected to speak for a few beats. “Okay, did you need something, Bucky? It’s almost four.”

“Your, uh, your music— it’s shaking my floors and the smoke’s comin’ through the vents.”

Your frown grew deeper. “Right. I didn’t think it was that loud.”

“It is. And I’ve gotta wake up in three hours, gotta find a decent fuckin’ gym around here.”

“It’s indica.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The smoke. It’s from indica. Should help you fall asleep.”

“Not when your music’s making my brain rattle ‘round my skull.”

A corner of your lips quirked up in a momentary, miniscule smile.

“So could you turn it down? I gotta—”

“Be up in three hours and find a gym,” you finished, detangling your arms and taking hold of the doorknob once more. “Heard you the first time. Wouldn’t wanna impede on your ability to keep that body tight.”

There was a bit of taunting in your voice, a slight challenge in the arch of your brow, but only annoyance in your frown. You looked right back at him as he continued to stand in your doorway. “I’ll turn it down, you won’t hear a thing.”

“Tha—” the door slammed shut and the deadbolt immediately clicked into place, he frowned, “ —nks.”

He was only five steps up the flight when the music resumed at the same volume, shaking the railing ever so slightly as he laughed through his nose despite himself.

After rummaging through the large box labeled “Sleep aides” and pulling a container of earplugs from the collection of useless junk, he managed to sleep for the remaining two and a half hours fairly well. The scientific and egotistical parts of him didn’t want to attribute that to his deep inhalations of the smoke you’d described to him but the unreasonable, humanistic side could find no other reason.

He brushed his teeth quickly and quietly, wiping his moist, minty lips on a rough white hand towel he’d snagged from some crappy hotel in Mexico about thirty-six hours prior.

He knew it was useless to bundle-up entirely for his run, the weather of Southern California never imposing the burden of fleece-lined running pants or woolen beanies, so he wore a pair of black Nike shorts and a matching fitted hoodie. Shoes snuggly tied, he emerged from his bedroom to find the scent in the air an odd mixture of stale indica smoke, fresh coffee, and shawarma.

Steve, in all his tall and blonde glory, stood at the kitchen island spreading a pat of butter over toast. A mug of what Bucky assumed to be coffee sat atop an open manila file that Steve was intently studying the pages of, his forehead creased before he even managed to change into his work clothes.

Though he wasn’t one for speaking just moments after he’d awoken, Bucky cleared his throat and gruffly greeted, “‘Morning.”

Steve looked up from the page he was scrutinizing and offered his new roommate a gentle smile— a smile that was once filled with sympathy and pity now saturated with an abhorrent admiration. “Good morning, Buck. You sleep well?”

“Do I look like I slept well, Stevie?”

His pink lips fell into a frown. “Nightmares?”

Bucky half-shrugged. “I think one of the neighbors might be runnin’ a nightclub out of their apartment.”

“Ah, I probably should’ve warned you about that.” He took a long sip of his coffee and turned around to put the carton of milk back into the stainless steel fridge. “Y/N’s a little loud sometimes.”

“Y/N?” Bucky repeated, plugging white earbuds into his phone.

He nodded as he took a bite of his toast. “Cute girl, lives right below us. Artist— did that mural for the burger place down the street.”

Bucky frowned in consideration.

“Says she works better with louder music. Got on my nerves at first,” Steve continued with a fond chuckle. “But she grows on you. Always has a good stock of apology pot, too.”

“Apology pot?”

He nodded with a smile. “S’what she calls it.”

“Cute,” Bucky snorted. “She could just try turning her music down.”

“I won’t question the creative processes of an artist that good.”

“She ain’t Van Gogh. You won’t be changing the course of art history by asking her to lower that shit.”

Steve frowned. He knew the way Bucky had been since being back. A little short with everyone, a bit more irritable.

The latent anger at himself, at his missing arm, at the US Army, at the universe had eased up after getting the prosthetic and going through rehabilitation. It was mostly at bay during his time back at the state school in San Jose, too, and it was only when he entered the working force as a low-level programmer in a pretentious, highly competitive area that it all returned. He’d discovered soon enough that boxing helped— it gave him an outlet.

It was when the anger and pressure heightened to incomprehensible levels that he realized he’d need to be boxing twenty-four hours a day just to be half the person he once was. So he began self-training more, spending every hour that he wasn’t working or struggling to sleep in a shitty gym in East Palo Alto.

Eventually that turned into fighting underground, the murky regulations and rules of the National Boxing Association regarding prosthetics in professional boxing keeping any trainer worth their salt from working with him just as they kept away any opponent worth even spitting in the vague direction of. While that should’ve shifted off with the lawsuit a leg amputee had won, change was a slow process and Bucky needed his release to bring him some benefit extrinsically— in other words, he wanted to make some money off his skill.

The yellowing bruises he would frequently sport after fights in numerous shady clubs across North and Central America had his bosses questioning his extracurriculars and, tired of the relentless interrogations, Bucky left the tech job and moved to Los Angeles to be with his childhood best friend.

The childhood best friend who promised to speak to the gym a friend of his owned, coax them into training Bucky while the National Boxing Association inevitably redrafted their terribly unclear and, quite frankly, discriminatory rules. The childhood best friend who said there was no need for Bucky to go foraging for a back-up gym with buzz words like that. The childhood best friend who went through school, break-ups, and war with Bucky only to emerge still confident and almost encouragingly optimistic. Almost.

Bucky paused at your door as he raced down the stairs to begin his six-mile run, shaking his head to himself when the impulsive side of him had the temptation to blast his own music as you presumably attempted to sleep.

Just as he began to turn away, however, your door flew open. And he found himself staring again.

Eyes lined with an additional wing on your inner corner, outfit dark and put-together, and lips chewed raw, you stood at the doorway to sling a burlap bag onto your shoulder and push a large colorful canvas into the hall.

You slid a pair of round eyeglasses into place and looked up from the keys in your hand to tilt your head, sighing heavily. “I’m not playing music right now so you’ll need another excuse for standing here with that face.”

“What face?” he asked before he could help himself.

You picked up the canvas and tucked it under your arm, the lower border hitting above your ankle. “The red face of anger.”

“‘M not angry.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He followed you down the stairs, staying a pace behind and catching the smell of roses and turpentine. “You don’t sleep or somethin’?”

You glanced over your shoulder and he thought he might have imagined your eyes flitting to the metal hand he held his phone in. You shrugged as you faced forward again. “You never know. Last night might be atypical.”

“Heard you’re an artist.”

You sent him a small smile. “You asking people about me?”

He snorted in an unconvincingly incredulous way. “Steve said something about it.”

“After you asked him?”

“No.”

“Yeah? Believable,” you said dryly, pushing the lobby door open with your shoulder. “I catch you lurking outside my door again, I’ll blast the music even louder.”

He smirked, tucking an earbud into his right ear once he’d pulled his hood up. “That a threat, sweetheart?”

You spun around, walking backwards down the sidewalk in the direction opposite him. You raised a single eyebrow. “Yeah, baby, I thought that was obvious.”

PART 2: MUSEUM OF DEATH

teeny tiny tag list (if you want to be added, send an ASK) strikethrough means your tag doesn’t work: @sighodinson @sebstancial @dreamingofonceuponatime @eufeme @captain-what-is-going-on @little-miss-headphones @writingcroissant @desertrose-saku @lilypalmer1987 @addictionmarvel @fancybasementpersona @winterdoe @closerstars @donnatroy-writes @violentlybarnes @buckylovelybarnes @curiositywillbethedeathofme @demonsandfaries-blog-blog

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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mercurytail · 6 years

Text

Shifting Sands Chapter 4

:D I proudly present Chapter four! Thanks to @the-hallowed-lady for betaing.

Please be aware that this chapter contains Sexual content.

Please Leave comments they keep me going <3 I Love you all!

Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223778/chapters/35309981

Shifting Sands Chapter 4

(Important: The weapon later in the story used by the bounty hunter in Mexico is a modified bolo tie, it is made of wire and the pendant is a heating fixture, it enables the tie to decapitate and cauterize when cinched.)

McCree stirs just as the first light kisses the horizon, turning the sky into an array of blazing orange, vermillion, and lavender; the shy blue basking amongst them. McCree stands and looks to the other room, Hanzo lies on the bed, chest rising and falling steadily. He turns to the cabinet and grabs a bottle of painkillers; god knows he’ll need um. ‘So much for a ‘good night’s sleep’’, He downs four pills with a glass of water.

He peels off his shirt and leans over the sink to wash his hair. He then cleans up his face in the mirror. Satisfied with his priming, he briefly considers grabbing a clean shirt but decides against it so as not to awaken Hanzo. He tosses his old shirt in the corner with the rest of his dirty clothes. He peels off the gauze from his wound and treats it, then dresses it with clean dressings.

When finished, he stows the kit away and returns to the kitchen. He doesn’t have much in the ways of food, but with the rye bread, dried heirloom beans, bacon, leftover avocado and peach preserves, there is the makings of a decent meal in his opinion. He sets his beans to soak and looks over the route they’ll take to his supplier in Santa Fe.

He occupies himself while the beans soak with a cigarillo outside. A couple hours pass and he walks back in. He heats a pan and cooks up the bacon, while two slices of bread tick away in the toaster. He takes the beans from the water and fries them in the leftover bacon grease. Once they're cooked to his liking he mashes them and smears some on half a slice of toast, he lays avocado over them. He spoons a dollop of peach preserves on the side and calls it good.

*grunt*

McCree hears Hanzo stir in the other room. He smirks to himself and scoops up the plates.

***

Hanzo wakes to the sunlight streaming from under the door, he sits up with a groan. The smell of bacon wafts through the air. Hanzo turns and places his feet on the floor, but before he can stand the door opens.

“Mornin’” McCree greets him. Shirtless.

“Good Morning,” Hanzo nods briefly stunned by the man’s soft-toned muscular chest. A water droplet glides down McCree’s chest from his still slightly damp hair.

“Figured’ you’d be mighty famished, what with the day you had yesterday,” He places the plate down on Hanzo’s lap. Then quickly returns with two glasses of water. He sits down on the floor across from Hanzo with his own plate in hand.

Hanzo’s takes in the meal on his lap. The golden preserves are nestled up against the glistening crispy bacon. Hanzo soon realizes just how starved he feels with the pain that blossoms in his gut, he drools slightly. He snaps from his trance and wipes the drool on the back of his hand. He picks up a strip of bacon and scoops up the sweet preserves onto it. The sweet and salty flavor is heavenly in his mouth.

He notices McCree waits kindly till he’s nearly done with his beans on toast to speak.

“So, if you were headed to Gibraltar, How’d you end up here?” McCree says as he finishes chewing a strip of bacon and reaches for his water glass.

Hanzo takes a strip of avocado, chews and swallows it before answering. “As I stated before, I do not know. I had been on a job in Germany when they double-crossed me, I was forced to flee and the last I remember is being confronted with a bomb. I destroyed it. After the explosion, I found myself here.”

“Did you use your lightning to destroy it?” McCree inquires.

“Yes…” Hanzo now finished eating, sips at his water.

“Sounds to me like you might a’ made a rift, what with all that energy being concentrated in one place.” McCree shrugs.

“Rift? Like a kind of space rift?” Hanzo furrows his brow in ah that McCree would have this type of knowledge.

“Yeah, had it happen to me once back in my service days. One second, I was facin’ off against some baddies in Russia, the next, I’m laid out on my ass in the middle a flock of sheep in New Zealand. Helluv’ a ride. Took Winston two weeks to figure out what had happened.” McCree stands and motions for Hanzo’s plate.

“I see…” Hanzo hands the plate over and leans back on his arms on the bed. “By any means, the coincidence of my appearance here was a blessing in disguise for the both of us it seems.” McCree flashes him a wide smile and walks to the kitchen. Hanzo follows.

McCree places the plates in the sink and gives them a quick rinse. “I’m assumin’ you’ll want to shower before we head out. Imma’ pack up some things and get my bike ready.” McCree walks into the bedroom, Hanzo hears him rustling around. The man returns carrying a bundle of clothes and a sleek grey duffle bag. “Help yourself to anything ya’ see.” McCree motions to the soaps near the shower and then proceeds to exit the shack leaving Hanzo to himself.

Hanzo looks at the door for a short moment, He then walks over to his bag and pulls out his comb, razor, and tea soup bar. He lays them on the floor by the wall mirror. He peels off his remaining clothes and folds them individually, laying them over the back of the leather recliner. Lastly, he pulls the yellow silk tie from his hair; it cascades over his shoulders. He reaches up and runs his fingers over his scalp, savouring the release. He turns the knob and allows it to heat up before stepping under the spray.

Hanzo’s sharp cheekbones glisten in the light. He scrubs his hands over the hardened edge of his abs and hip bone. His hard-toned body feels good under is touch. He takes his razor and runs over every inch of himself; he trims up his unruly lower bush, and then trims his beard. He washes his face and hair then rinses off. He towels off and wrings out his hair, then ties it into a high ponytail, his hair and silken ribbon drape down his back. He slips on a black cut-out tank and his Aztec designed pants and puts his gear over top, he then sits in the leather chair to lace and buckle up his boots.

He moves over to his bag and checks its contents. He will need to replace his missing knife, as well as a heady set of arrows and arrowheads. He reaches for Storm bow and gives it an once-over. His bow could use tuning when there was time for it. He repacks then straps on his bag and quiver and places Storm bow over his shoulder.

He then walks out into the morning sun. It’s not hot quite yet but Hanzo senses that will soon change. He talks off his jacket and ties it around his waist. He then turns and makes his way to the back of the shed, where he hears McCree scuffling about.

***

McCree walks around to the back of the shed and opens the hatch. He climbs down into the basement and walks over to his workbench. He places the duffle bag and change of clothes down. He turns and strips, then slips on the clean Shirt and brown suede pants, he rolls up the bottom a couple loops. He folds and places the dirty clothes in the duffle.

He then takes his chest armour off the wall and straps it on. He turns back and takes the chaps off the wall from where they’re hanging and folds them; placing them in the duffle. He takes his holster and straps it on placing Peacekeeper in her place. He unzips a side pocket of the duffle and places spare bullets and flash bangs in it, as well as essentials such as painkillers, sterile wrap, a flashlight, granola bars, and a tin for water.

He places the packed duffle in the saddle bag of the Atlas and buckles it. He slips his switch knife and the bike keys in his pocket, then wraps on his serape; topping it all off with his beloved hat. He takes his bike and pulls it up out onto the packed desert clay then closes and latches the hatch.

Hanzo walks around the corner.

“All packed and ready to go.” McCree tips his hat at Hanzo and winks. “You look refreshed.”

Hanzo ignores the gesture, “The shower was agreeable. Is this the only mode of transportation you have?” Hanzo motions to the Atlas, less than pleased.

McCree cocks his head and looks from the bike to Hanzo and back. “If you’re hatin’ on her, you can just walk. Or we could travel by Sand,” McCree looks Hanzo in the eye. “Or lightning in your case.”

Hanzo bristles, “That would be unsafe and impractical for energy conservation.”

To that McCree moves to the bike and mounts it. He turns and pats the back seat, grinning at Hanzo. Hanzo walks over and saddles the bike behind McCree.

McCree starts the bike and looks back at Hanzo. “Hold on Darlin’,” McCree kicks the bike to life and guns off. Hanzo flails back but finds his hands soon clasp securely around McCree’s waist. He frowns slightly to himself from how much he likes it more than he should. McCree grins to himself all the while. They fall into a comfortable silence.

***

They make it to the supplier in Santa Fe by the late afternoon.

McCree pulls into the alleyway and knocks on the side door of a redbrick apartment building in a rundown part of town. Hanzo stands beside him. A cat walks out from behind a dumpster, completely black all over except for two small white dots just above its brow arches. “You have horns, my friend.” It mewls at him; Hanzo bends down and calmly strokes it. The small hatch at eye level on the door slides open and McCree exchanges words with the man.

Soon the door swings open and they are let inside. The cat follows. The room inside is small, each wall of redbrick possess a fluorescent bar light. The wall across from the door has a waist-high counter, above that are bars to protect the seller; flaking green paint hanging from them. On the left wall is a pair of Iron doors, their glass windows fogged with years of grime. One door is cracked, showing a training mat and small target range inside. The cat leaps up onto the counter and squeezes under the bars, there is a small red pillow on a stool on the opposite side, it jumps up and rolls over on the pillow, all four paws in the air stretching languidly. The man who opened the door seals it and sits down on a padded chair in the corner. He picks up his newspapers and resumes reading it. He’s bulky but seemingly unarmed. But they all know that is a lie.

McCree makes his way up to the counter and knocks on it. “Melanie, you here?”

“Jesse, what brings your sorry ass to my shop?” A thin woman with bright purple shoulder length hair and a septum piercing walks out from the shadows among rows of shelves, she’s tan with black lipstick; a small gold chain hangs around her neck. She wears all skin-tight white clothes. “Oh! And you’ve brought company.” Her eye peruses Hanzo, “Mmmmm, and what fine company it is.”

“Don’t you got a man back home Mel?” McCree raises a brow.

“Just because a girl’s on a diet doesn’t mean she can’t browse the menu, and maybe taste test a little. Now, are you here for business? Or pleasure?” She places her hand on the counter and leans toward Hanzo accentuating her chest.

Hanzo sneers disinterestedly and looks to McCree.

“Sorry Mel, we’re here on pure business. I need a case of bullets and a bottle of gun oil. Also, whatever he needs.” McCree motions with his thumb back at Hanzo.

Hanzo moves forward, “I require a set of arrows, arrowheads, and a serrated pocket knife.”

“’humph’, aren’t you both needy.” She grins at them, “give me an hour and I’ll have it ready for you.” She waves them off and disappears back amongst the shelves, her bladed heels clicking in the darkness.

McCree turns to Hanzo, “you wanna’ spar to pass the time?”

Hanzo huffs amusedly, “I doubt you will present much of a challenge.”

McCree grins wickedly, “Hey now, don’t knock me till you try me.” He flicks his nose with his thumb and saunters into the training room. He removes his armor, hat, serape, and boots. Hanzo follows and removes his arm guard, bag, and boots. They both face each other on the mat and Hanzo bows then ready himself. “Now Darlin’ don’t you feel you have to take it easy on me.” McCree brings his fists up.

McCree swings forward with his left hand. Like a whip, Hanzo flashes out grabs McCree’s arm, curls into him and flips him over his shoulder onto the mat. “I never take it easy.”

McCree grunts on the mat, he rolls over and stands back up. He looks up at Hanzo with a wolfish grin. “Again.”

They ready themselves once more. Hanzo strikes out, going yet again for a disarm and takedown. McCree responds my fanning away. He surges back with a fake left jab when Hanzo responds he then glides his right arm around Hanzo’s head and pulls it back straight against his spine and forces him to the floor. Hanzo collapses and stares up at McCree standing smugly over him. He gets up and readies himself once more.

The next hour consists of both men equally being thrown, pulled, flipped, and driven into the mat. Both with a permanent grin on their face.

A bell rings from the other room. “’Ahem’ Gentlemen I hate to interrupt your date, but I have your items ready.” Melanie spouts from the other room. Hanzo scoffs and walks over to his things to redress. McCree grins and does the same. They both walk out and pay for their items. “Farewell, my dears!” She waves goodbye from her side of the counter. They walk to the door and out into the alley. McCree packs away his items and Hanzo stashes his things in his quiver bag.

“Do you want to stop for the night?” McCree flashes a raised eyebrow to Hanzo.

“That might be wise.” Hanzo joins McCree on the bike and they ride off.

Soon they pull up in front of a rather nice-looking hotel. McCree parks and turns to his duffle. He takes off his hat, and slicks back his hair. He removes his serape and folds it into the duffle. He straightens the wrinkles from his shirt; buttons it completely and tucks it in his pants. He pulls out a pair of thin frame glasses from his bag and places them low on his face. He then places the grey duffle on his shoulder and motions for Hanzo to follow. They make their way inside and to the front desk.

“Hello, a double king suit please, if you don’t mind.” McCree flashes a bright smile with a cheer Hanzo has yet to see from the man. His accent is completely different, and he exudes an arrogant energy.

“Of course, sir, May I have the name and duration of stay?” The receptionist chirps back typing away at the holoscreen.

“Joel Morricone for a single night.” McCree takes out his wallet and pulls out a credit card. It reads Joel J Morricone in the name slot. They pay and are given a room number. In the elevator, McCree is eerily quiet. Once they are in their room McCree shakes out his hair, takes off the glasses and returns them to their case in the duffle. “Which bed you want?” he asks as he simultaneously lays down on one of the two.

Hanzo lays his bag against the wall; he then smirks at McCree who has one eye open at him. “I will use the bathroom first.” Hanzo proceeds to grab an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bag and locks the door to the bathroom behind him.

McCree rolls over and strips down to his underwear, taking a pair of sweatpants from his bag and slips them on. He lies down on the bed and tucks under the top downy comforter.

He smiles to himself. A feeling of fondness blooms in his chest. Not having to explain Joel to Hanzo was comforting. Hanzo knew the need of such alter egos, the requirement to be a different person when the time called for it. He turned over on his side and closed his eyes.

McCree was asleep when Hanzo came out of the bathroom. He pulled back the layers of his bed and crawled in. He turned off the shared porcelain lamp and folded into himself. His breath slowed gradually as he drifted off.

***

They wake at sunrise and travel all morning, they make it to a small Texas town about six hours from Dallas by lunchtime and they decide to stop and eat. Hanzo picks a classic looking diner. McCree comments that it looks a lot like the panorama Diner from back home. “Let’s hope the coffee’s at least drinkable.” They walk in and are seated into a red faux leather booth.

They are both given menus, McCree orders coffee and a glass of water, Hanzo requests mineral water. “I’ll get your drinks and you can order with me when you’re ready” chirps the waitress. She returns with their drinks and they shoo her off till later.

McCree looks over to Hanzo and seems about to say something when a ring echoes out from his pocket. McCree retrieves his communicator and looks at the ID. He furrows his brow and answers.

“Hello Mrs. Shewmore, I’m afraid I ain’t home right now so if you need help….” McCree pauses, his eyes widen. He takes the earpiece out from the communicator and hands it to Hanzo. Hanzo places it in his ear.

“Jesse, I needed to tell you. There was a man that came to my home searching for you.”

“Are you alr...?” McCree starts.

“I am fine, a bit worse for wear but alive, Son I need to know your safe. Ease this old lady’s heart.” She interrupts him and pleads.

“I am fine Mrs. I am off pretty far with a friend,” McCree says with a soft voice.

“Good.” She seems soothed.

“Can you tell us what happened?” McCree ducks his head into his hand propped on the table.

***

A knock sounds from the front step. Mrs. Shewmore scuffles to the screen and raises her eyes, her smiles drops. A Large hulking man stands on the other side. His skin is dark, presumably of mixed descent, freckles scatter across his face. His short, auburn red hair is shaved short. He wears a black short sleeve jacket with a white chest plate over it, military-grade pants with several large pockets adorn his legs; mid-calf boots on his feet.

“Hello Ma’am,” The man pushes open the screen door and forces his way in, “I’m looking for a man by the name of Jesse McCree. I hear tell you might know where he is.” He leans forward a bit casting a shadow over her.

“I am sorry but, I must ask you to leave.” She moves around him and toward the door. The man spins and grabs her by the throat thrusting her up against the wall. He continues normally. “You see, he took something real’ important from me. An’ I plan to make him pay for it.” Mrs. Shewmore grabs the vase on the side table near her and attempts to smash it over his head. The man grabs her arm however and bends it back, breaking it with a sickening snap. She screams out in pain. “Now, you either tell me where his little shithole is in this godforsaken dead land, or I can drag you around behind my truck with me till I find it.” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a large chain.

***

A Shadow busts in the door of McCree’s shack. No one is home. The man angrily kicks the side table; it shatters into pieces against the opposite wall. A glare of light catches his eye. He walks over the holoscreen and presses it on. The figure smiles viciously. “Don’t you worry Sammy, I got him.”

***

“After that, I gave him the coordinates of your shack and prayed for your safety. I know you can handle yourself Jesse, but I still worry.” Mrs. Shewmore quips.

“Thank you kindly for the warning Ma’am, I’ll keep a sharp eye out. You get yourself to the hospital now you hear me?” McCree says his pleasantries and hangs up.

He looks at Hanzo as a mixture of emotions crosses his face. Anger, yes, but fear too. Soon, they all melt away and a solemn mask takes their place. “We might have company.”

Hanzo nods, “Do you know if the hunter that made an attempt on your life two days ago worked alone?”

McCree gives him a quizzical eye. “I don’t rightly know.”

They finish their meal and rent a motel for the night. All afternoon they spend researching If Sammy had any recorded partners. Only when searching through a deleted social media page do they find a single name that catches McCree’s eye. Garrett Hazel. The profile shows a single picture of Sammy and Garrett kissing with a caption at the bottom that reads: “To the love of my life, I am hopeful for our bright future.” beside it there’s a wedding ban emoji. Hanzo finds an article on him, “Garrett Peter Hazel, ex-military SEP soldier, he turned to bounty hunting after the programs fall out. His success rate is 96%”

They decide to rest and rise early. They leave in the morning before the suns first rays taint the black sky. They make it to the station before the sun even separates from the horizon. The train is due to depart later in the morning. McCree stows his bike in a garage. They board the train from the back and sneak into the rearmost cabin. Not until the train finally starts to excel down the rail does either man relax. McCree sits back and takes a nap as the train crosses state after state. Hanzo busies himself with his holopad.

“Dear passengers, we will be making our planned stop at Charlotte in ten minutes. Please buckle and have a wonderful day.” The intercom announces overhead. They pull into the station and come to a halt.

McCree stands, “Imma’ take a leak.” He opens the door to their booth and stops when he enters the hall.

Their car is strangely quiet.

McCree reaches for Peacekeeper but has no time to draw before a black bulk slams into him. Garrett nails him in the jaw with a flying punch and knocks him to the floor. Peacekeeper flies down the hall. He pulls a heavy chain from his pocket and goes to wrap it around McCree’s neck.

Hanzo reacts instantly; he lunges forward and grapples around his neck, slinging his legs up over his shoulder and pulling Garrett to the floor. He gets to McCree and pulls him to his feet, but Garrett recovers and grabs for McCree’s ankle, “So weak you can’t even take me alone? Gotta’ have a bodyguard?” Garrett taunts. McCree kicks at his face bending it obscenely back breaking his nose, blood runs down over his lips. Hanzo gets him to his feet as the train is beginning to move again. McCree grabs Peacekeeper from the floor. They make it to the door of the car and attempt to move to the next car up when Garrett catches McCree’s serape and nearly pulls him over the side of the now blindingly fast speeding train. Hanzo scales the train to the roof and pulls McCree up. Garrett soon follows.

“Nowhere to run now,” Garrett whips out his chain and stalks forward. The train is extremely unsteady. They are forced to near crawl to keep footing as they move toward the engine.

McCree turns to Hanzo, “I can’t use my sand at this high a speed, I’ll get ripped away, and Peacekeepers out of commission if I can’t aim.

Hanzo nods and quickly unleashes an arrow into the behemoth of a man. It lands solidly in his shoulder, but the man doesn’t falter. Hanzo releases another, it lands in his neck and still, the man does not slow. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s breathing heavily, seemingly running off pure fury and adrenaline.

Garret roars at the two men, now gating toward them as they clamber up the train. “My arrows have no effect!” Hanzo yells.

McCree looks back at Garret now merely two meters away. “Use your lightning!” McCree shouts.

Hanzo stares at McCree and hesitates. “I can’t”.

McCree looks at him confused, “Why not?!” at this moment Garret closes the distance and throws himself into McCree. They roll, violently trading blows. They topple over the edge and McCree catches the rail bar just barely, Garret clings to him.

Hanzo moves swiftly to the edge and grabs a hold of McCree’s hand. “You are coming with me, you son of a bitch!” Garret bellows from below.

“Hanzo! Use it!” McCree pleads. Their grip slips just a bit.

“He’s too close to you - if I do you’ll get hit by the current!” Hanzo exclaims.

Times stills when Hanzo catches the smiles on McCree’s face, “I trust you.”

Hanzo stares at him for mere seconds, a searing white light lifts from his tattoo and his eyes sprout small arks of electric blue. A bolt lifts from his back and strikes Garrett in the chest, sending a current ripping through his body. Both men scream in agony. Garrett slumps and falls from McCree, His body hits the fast-moving earth below soon out of sight and sooner forgotten.

Hanzo immediately pulls McCree back up on the car. He’s unconscious. Hanzo moves them both back to their cabin and lays McCree down on the floor. There’s no pulse. Hanzo tries CPR on him to no avail.

He screams. Lightning shatters off of him, shattering the glass around them. McCree convulses when he’s hit. Hanzo’s eyes widen with an idea. He grabs for McCree’s prosthetic and grips it tightly. Hanzo sends a shock through it, nothing. He tries again, McCree sucks in a gasp of air. Hanzo feels for a pulse, it’s erratic but most definitely there. Hanzo breathes a sigh of relief and slumps back against the seat.

When the Train reaches the New York station the sun is nearly gone. McCree is awake when they arrive; they exit the train and find an old abandoned apartment building to hold up in. They both feel safer in a no-name place like this. Hanzo moves a heavy desk in front of the door. The only pieces of furniture in the dilapidated studio apartment are a mattress in the corner and industrial spool meant to as a table. Hanzo helps McCree lay down on the mattress.

It’s quiet; aside from the club music weakly bubbling in through the crack in the window.

“Thank you,” McCree breaks the silence.

“I nearly killed you.” Hanzo is facing away from him. He isn’t angry with McCree but feels the need to distance himself. If the man harbors any ill-will toward him, he will bare it. He deserves it.

“Yeah, but you also saved me….twice.” McCree sits up. “Look, Hanzo I know what it’s like to be scared. To not want to use a part of yourself.”

Hanzo whips around staring daggers at him. “How would you know? Sand is slow and child’s play compared to lightning. Do you have any idea how much constant focus I am forced to maintain to keep the lightning contained? To keep it from destroying everything around me? To keep it…from hurting anyone..,” ‘From hurting you’. Hanzo curls in on himself. His lightning has always been unruly, even as a child he excelled at everything else. The elders would prod him, cajole him to master it, he had tried. When he was told to confront Genji…things had gone too far…he had only meant to use it to hinder him…but… Hanzo crouches; he cups his head between his hands making him look even smaller.

“Hanzo,” McCree crawls off the mattress and over to him, “Hanzo, you don’ have to…you don’t. Gaw!” He holds his prosthetic out in front of him, “you see this?” Hanzo nods. “It was about two years after I’d left Overwatch; I got caught by a hunter down in Mexico. Back then I was still green around the edges, still used to being taken care of, I had a hold on my sands but I thought I was untouchable. All I’d ever really used em’ for was to dodge bullets and Deadeye. He caught me real close, and it came to blows real’ quick. We were tradin’ punches left and right when the guy got his weird bolo wrapped around my arm. I turned to sand to try and slip out of it but it hurt so damn bad I couldn’t see straight. Next thing I know I’m lyin’ there bleeding out with my arm turnin' to dust on the ground in front of me. I managed to slither away but when I tried to reattach my arm I couldn’t. It was like it wasn’t a part of me anymore. I passed out in an alley and woke up in a kind old ladies house two days later.

“After that I got scared. Nearly died countless times taking bullets I could a’ dodged because I was too afraid to use my sands again, scared I might lose something else. It was one night at a bar, I was drunk and rambling on, that I met this old man. I don’t even know his name. He told me; “Sounds to me like you’re just waitin’ to die. If you can do something, why don’t you do?” After that I realized I’d given up on myself, I decided I’d learn my sands all over again find my limits and what I was capable of. I started using them every day. I got better; I found my strengths and my weaknesses. I also became deadlier because of it.” McCree leans into Hanzo and wraps his arms around the man. “Look, I’m not saying you have to like it, but caging it’s only gonna’ make it worst, you already know that. You got to find your limits and learn um.” McCree pauses and looks down at Hanzo, a single tear runs down his cheek, he’s staring at the cement below. McCree huffs dismissively.

He stands up “Get up,” he looks down at Hanzo offering his hand.

Hanzo looks up at him, looking to his face then his hand, a confused look on his face.

“This kind a’ sorrow is enough to kill a man… an’ I ain’t gonna’ let that happen tonight.” McCree reasserts his hand. Hanzo slowly stands, placing his hand in McCree’s.

McCree then steps into his space; he holds their hands out to the side and wraps his other arm around Hanzo’s waist. He begins to pull Hanzo along, making small circles around the room. Soon a waltz forms from the slow movements.

Neither man says anything as they continue to make sweeping motions. A slow hypnotizing beat drifts in through the window from the nightclub below. At some point they slow, their breathing is thick between them.

Hanzo gradually lifts his head. McCree surges in to meet him, Lips tangling, its intense as each man tries to soak into the other, both men finally allowing themselves to have what they’ve both yearned for, for so long. Each man needing the intimacy far longer than they’ve even known one another. Their lives don’t leave room for pleasures like this.

****Smut start****

McCree’s hands begin to explore Hanzo’s frame, lightly tracing over his waist and abs. Hanzo reaches up and pulls his hands down McCree’s back savoring the dense muscle underneath. They walk backwards and collapse onto the mattress. Hanzo crowds into the space between McCree’s legs. He slowly lifts McCree’s shirt and follows it with his lips, trailing soft kisses and licks all the way up until they meet in a soft kiss. McCree tugs at Hanzo’s jacket and it is soon gone along with his shirt. They barely break long enough for Hanzo to get it over his head. Their shoes come off somewhere along the way.

Hanzo sucks McCree’s earlobe and traces his teeth down McCree’s throat where he nips. Hanzo suckles one nipple in his mouth, drawing a deep moan out of the man below him. He fondles the other pebble nipple. McCree tangles his hands into his hair, pulling the tie loose. Hanzo grazes his teeth over the nipple as he switches.

After a bit, McCree shivers and sets up pushing Hanzo over to his back. Hanzo goes willingly. McCree crawls over him leaving bites up one arm, across his shoulders, neck, and chest then down the other arm. He squeezes Hanzo’s ass firmly. They kiss once more, tongues sliding deliciously. Hanzo tastes sweet. McCree tastes earthy. McCree reaches for Hanzo’s belt cautiously; Hanzo nods and breathes a silent ‘yes’. Both move to lick and nibble at the other's neck as McCree slides off Hanzo’s pants, underwear coming with them. Hanzo fumbles with McCree’s waistband. McCree chuckles and releases the ridiculous buckle for him, his pants and boxers slide off easily. Their thighs glide over each other as they slide closer. McCree grasps his hands and pins them above his head as they drown in the sensation of skin against warm skin

When they finally touch the friction draws a brisk inhale from both men. Hanzo fumbles for his bag and pulls out a small bottle of lube. McCree raises a brow, “Mighty prepared.”

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth tilt up, “A man has his needs.” He pops open the top and squeezes a bit onto his hand. He warms it a bit before he takes them both in hand, gliding his thumb over their heads. Their breathing hitches. “Han,” McCree slips his hands into his hair. Neither man is anywhere near small, McCree is just a bit longer than Hanzo, while Hanzo hangs thicker. McCree leans in close and bites into the muscles of Hanzo’s shoulder a deep, rumbling moan leaks through. Hanzo arches back and cries out in the mix of pain and pleasure. Hanzo sets a punishingly slow rhythm. Lips connect again in a hot embrace, as both men rut into Hanzo’s tight slick tunnel. Each pull sending heat up their spines.

Soon McCree breaks for air. He pulls back to look at Hanzo and briefly looks away. “Can I…?” McCree doesn’t finish because Hanzo takes his fingers and trails them over his puckered hole. McCree exhales and reaches for the lube with his other hand. Hanzo releases him and he crawls down to mouth at his thighs. He coats his fingers with lube and slides them over Hanzo’s entrance.

Hanzo’s sharply inhales from the chill but soon relaxes as McCree presses in the first thick digit. As McCree works him open, he breathes heavily. Each stroke delicious against his walls. McCree trails light nips and suckles over the skin, leaving marks over his thighs. He soon presses in a second finger and begins to scissor in him. McCree presses into the soft tuft of hair around Hanzo’s length and inhales. He trails his tongue over each ball rolling them one at a time. He curves up his fingers and circles that bundle of nerves over and over that leaves Hanzo a sweating, gasping mess.

“Let me hear you,” McCree whispers, he licks up from base to tip and suckles the head. He takes Hanzo in his mouth all the way down, only gagging once. He works in a third digit and spreads experimentally. He pulls off and pants, “I can’t…can I...” he begs.

Hanzo leans up and grabs McCree’s hair pulling him up for an open mouth kiss. He grimaces at the loss of fullness. He nods vigorously and wraps his ankles around McCree’s thighs coaxing him closer.

McCree lines himself up with Hanzo’s slickened hole and presses in. Hanzo savors the stretch. It takes a few patient thrusts for McCree to sink fully into Hanzo.

McCree kisses him, “Tch’ you feel so good, so hot, so tight around me.” He pulls out and back in just a bit; both men breathing heavily.

Hanzo tightens around him, “Get moving.” He smirks.

Without warning, McCree pulls all the way out to the tip and slams back into him, Hanzo claws into his back and curses. McCree looks more than pleased with himself.

McCree sets a fast and deep pace. Each thrust deeper than the last, Hanzo cants his hips up to meet McCree.

Both men quickly building to their end sooner than either would admit.

“I’m close,” Hanzo’s exhales, to that McCree takes a knee in each hand and bends him over almost in half and pounds into him. Each thrust strikes Hanzo’s prostate; it only takes a handful of strokes to send him careening over the edge streaking white over his chest and stomach. As he cums, he constricts around McCree inside him and the man spills inside Hanzo. “Fuck, Hanzo.”

McCree pulls out and falls onto the mattress beside Hanzo his arm resting over Hanzo’s chest. Both bask in the post-coital high.

After some time, McCree grabs his shirt to wipe them both off and lays down into Hanzo’s arms.

****Smut End****

As He slowly drifts off into a peaceful sleep he hears Hanzo whisper in his ear.

“Thank you.”

NOTES

(The song that plays while they are dancing is Martin Garrix Ocean. And the song earlier is The Weeknd’s Call out my name, and Martin Garrix/David Guetta’s So far Away)

(Hanzo’s outfit from after his shower: https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQXCyj74kfv3gaoRQJK7JtAySlna_2WWIlldJMLntddXH4MFtFg

https://gloimg.rowcdn.com/ROSE/pdm-product-pic/Clothing/2016/03/22/source-img/20160322103105_32428.jpg )

(McCree’s outfit: https://smhttp-ssl-33667.nexcesscdn.net/manual/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/loose-style-long-sleeve-denim-shirts-men-washed-vintage-men-s-casual-jean-shirts-summer-lightweight.jpg

http://www.kinnaird-guesthouse.co.uk/images/large/bblnet/ByH2F8uANfccccceeeee_LRG.jpg )

#shifting sands #mchanzo #mchanzo au #hanzo #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #mccree #smut #my writing

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asteroiideae · 6 years

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tag game - five things

I’ve been tagged by @justkeeponthegrass and yay! I love these things! :D

5 things you’ll find in my bag

Wallet

A Book (right now Lost Stars, by Claudia Gray)

Chapstick

Nametag

Sunscreen (yes, even in winter.)

5 things you’ll find in my bedroom

Media collection (books, comics, movies, video games...so much)

A coloring book( right now the Art of Coloring Star Wars)

A horrible painting I’ve done myself at a Wine & Canvas event

Funko collection! It’s booming!

Reepicheep; my giant faux rat skeleton.

5 things that make me happy

Great fanfiction; I love the stories, and the experience of connecting to the writers and the fandom and just. HNGH. I have a lot of feelings about it.

My endless Spotify playlists (most of which I borrow from @mindless-philosopher)

Tiny Bae (my nephew) and his many shenanigans.

Writing; even when it’s frustrating, it’s my happy place.

Coloring! The fastest way to get me to calm my shit since I was like, three years old.

5 things I’m currently into

Critical Role - I know, I know, I’m late to the game. But I’m five episodes deep and just...really invested in these characters and their journey, it’s a lot of fun!

Mania (Fall Out Boy) - Specifically Church and Heaven’s Gate? I’m a sucker for twisting religious symbolism for things that are not inherently religious; specifically if it’s done in a way that also drags organized religion? I’m fucking here for it. lol

Tabletop RPG - I am ALSO late to this. (I’m sorry, my father is somehow still of the opinion that D&D is the gateway to hell?) Now that I’m knocking on thirty fucking years old, I can do what I want. lol So I’m wrapping up my first campaign, with a few one-shots planned in the future? I also just go the Fate CORE rulebook, so I’m eager to dive into that. Hopefully I’m gonna start running some games? idk, it’s all up in the air right now, but I’ve got the bug.

Flight Rising - God, it’s so ridiculous. But feeding, breeding, and battling my little pixellated dragons has firmly become part of my self-care routine? I don’t know how that happened??? God, they’re such pretty dragons, though.

Gender Presentation Experimentation? - tbh I haven’t fucked with this as much as I want to. I identify outside the binary (as agender) and although I frequently present as femme (I like my long hair and dresses are comfy), I tend to skew more towards the plaid-and-jeans-ambiguous-gender place in my heart. I’ve been following some femme-of-center trans individuals on social media who aren’t making an attempt to be “passing” but just live out their identity in a way that feels authentic and comfortable for them? I’m super into seeing how more people present themselves and finding the ways I best want to present myself.

5 things in my to-do list

Write and upload the final update to my RebelCaptain fic.

Have a kick-ass vacation in a couple of weeks.

Finish my re-read of Lirael and get through Lost Stars.

Finish the set-up for my first Fate CORE game?

Finally fucking watch Stranger Things.

Tagging: @dantalaois @mindless-philosopher @kyungswooning idk don’t feel obligated to this; on the contrary, consider yourself tagged if you so desire to be. ^_^

#just maven things

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misskieshakate · 7 years

Text

Black and Blue, Shance Fluff Week Day 1

YouTube AU where Shiro puts on eyeliner on Lance and Lance paints Shiro’s nails :D

“Hell my lovelies!“ Lance greeted the camera in front of him. He was seating on his bed, blue pillows and covers scattered, pale grey walls as his background. The people watching him online had a peek of his life through the framed photos adorning the walls, one of which was him smiling from ear to ear, wearing a navy blue suit, with a handsome man’s arm around his shoulders.

“It’s ya boy, Lance!” He waved at the camera. “Here with me today is a special guest. He is my lovely boyfriend, fire to my loins, the bane of my being, the one and only lover- for now,“ he winked at the camera.

“Lance!“

“Takashi Shirogane!“

“Yello!” Shiro’s head popped up in front of the camera from below, his face occupying the screen. The camera went out of focus for a few seconds before it sharpened the image revealing a symmetrical face, a strong chin, grey eyes enveloped with long lashes, a scar across his nose and a fond smile on his lips.

“Shiro back up a bit,“ Lance pulled on Shiro’s collar, dragging him back on the bed, “the camera’s out of focus!“

“Hey, that was your idea, babe.“ Shiro’s prosthetic arm found its way to Lance’s waist, pulling Lance closer until Lance almost sat on Shiro’s lap.

“Yeah whatever.“ Lance waved him off. His arms, like an automatic response, wrapped themselves around Shiro’s neck. One of his hands played with the short strands of hair on Shiro’s nape while the other playfully scratched at Shiro’s scalp.

“Lance.” Shiro warned, but that didn’t stop him from nuzzling Lance’s neck, breathing on the soft bronze skin that smelled like wildflowers.

“Right.“ Lance scrambled away from Shiro’s lap and gave an apologetic smile towards the camera. He was pretty sure his face was red all the way to his collar bones, and that made it worse. “Uh sorry guys. Ahem. Where was I?”

“We’re live.” Shiro whispered, still grinning at the camera like he didn’t instigate an almost make out session while they’re recording. The cheeky bastard.

“We’re on YouTube Live everybody! And to celebrate the beautiful month of June, the lovely Pride Month full of love and rainbows, Shiro- a.k.a Shiro-to-Hero- and moi, decided to have a collab video.“

“I’ll be teaching you guys how to make the perfect cat eye with Lance as my model.“ Lance struck a pose, “And Lance will be doing my nails. He’ll be painting them blue, his choice not mine. And since I only have one hand,“ Shiro raised his prosthetic arm, “Lance will also be painting the nails on my feet. Goodluck with that, babe.” Shiro smirked at his boyfriend who stuck his tongue out at him.

“Ok, let’s begin!“ Lance clapped his hands together and paused.

A second later, Shiro and Lance erupted to fits of giggles and laughter.

“We’re live, babe! Oh my god!“ Shiro clutched at his sides as he laughed and rolled on the bed.

“Shut up!“ Lance giggled, kicking at Shiro’s back. “Get your stuff, you overgrown sausage!“

“Kiss me first then.“ Shiro pursed his lips at him.

Lance rolled his eyes at him and gave the camera a bored expression. “See what I have to live with?” He gestured at Shiro before grabbing his face and smacked a kiss on his lips. “Now move your ass, babe.”

“Please, you love this ass.“ Shiro crawled off the bed, but before he walked away off the screen, Lance slapped his boyfriend’s jean covered butt.

“While Shiro is grabbing his stuff, let’s see what you guys are up to.“ Lance pulled out a laptop under a pillow and turned it on. He logged in on a separate account and clicked on his video playing live.

“Wow. really?” Lance scrolled down the live chat and saw a bunch of awwws, omg, kiss some more, and a whole lot more of kiss emojis. “You guys are making me blush, haha.”

“Shiro! People keep asking me to slap your ass one more time!”

“No!” Shiro went back on screen, “Butt slapping is not permitted as YouTube content. On Pornhub maybe, but not on YouTube.” Shiro said as he assembled a couple of brushes, and bottles on the bed.

“Shiro! Don’t say that, we’re on live!” Lance stared wide eyed at the onslaught of comments about porn and spanking.

“I’m all set here.” Shiro sat at the middle of the bed and waited for Lance to sit beside him.

Lance sighed and closed the laptop, praying that their video doesn’t get flagged or taken down by the YouTube gods.

“So the deal with having the perfect cat eye is having a clean canvas, that means you should not put on your eyeliner when you haven’t put on your foundation, concealer, the works. If you plan on drawing it on for kicks, that’s fine, but if you’re going out make sure to do your eyeliner last.”

“Does that mean you’re going to go full coverage on me?”

“Of course. We’re gonna make you pretty, Lance.” Shiro said as he poured a small amount of face primer on his palm and massaging it on Lance’s face.

“Not as pretty as you.“ Lance said, eyes closed.

“You are such a cheese.“ Shiro pinched at his cheek before, grabbing a small bottle of concealer. “This video should be renamed as ‘Lance and Shiro are cheesy’.“ He strategically placed small drops of concealer on Lance’s skin before blending it in with a beauty blender.

“Or Lance and Shiro are so fluffy they’re gonna die.“ Lance, with his eyes still closed, grinned when he felt Shiro pinch his nose.

“It was a bad idea showing you that trailer.“ Shiro pulled out a stick of concealer and swiped it on the areas of Lance’s face.

“What are you doing now?“

“I’m just blending the concealer in with the beauty blender.“

“You gotta tell the people what you’re doing, babe, that’s how video tutorials work.“

“There. I just finished putting on foundation and concealer on Lance. I’m not going to contour because look at this,“ He grabbed Lance’s face and faced it to the camera, “look at this cheekbones, this jaw, this cute button nose. This face doesn’t need contouring.“

“Shiro!“ Lance blushed. He was sure the chat was going wild again.

“Ok ok ok.“ Shiro took hold of Lance’s face again, directing him to tilt his head to the side. Lance closed his eyes and waited for Shiro to say something to the camera, directions on what to do next. But lips were on him again. Shiro was kissing his ears, his jaw, all the way down his neck.

“Shiro!” lance spluttered, pushing Shiro away. Shiro was laughing again, loving the way the dark red of Lance’s skin showed despite the foundation and concealer on his face.

“I’m sorry babe. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Shiro calmed down. He patted the place beside him and gestured for Lance to come back.

“Hmph. You’re lucky you’re cute.” Lance said through gritted teeth. God he was so embarrassed. How many friends and workers were seeing this?! Agh, the number of his subscribers made him blush even more.

“I am aren’t I.“ Shiro tipped Lance’s chin up, “I’m sorry. I’m not doing it again, promise.“ He smiled at his boyfriend.

Hah, he thinks he’ll get away that easily? Highly unlikely. Lance returned his smile, already planning his revenge.

“Before we do the eye liner, we must do the eyebrows. I’m just going to fill in Lance’s eyebrows since they’re already perfect.“

“Nice try, Takashi.“ Lance said in a boring tone.

“To perfectly frame the cat eye, I recommend a subtle cut crease eye shadow. Let me just grab the camera for a sec.“ Shiro took the phone along with its stand and let it focus on Lance’s face.

“As you can see, this wonderful creature that is my lover, already has his face done. I’m just gonna let you appreciate his beauty for a second longer because you guys don’t have the privilege to see this face all day, everyday.“

Lance grinned, cracking open one eye at the camera. “Smooth, Takashi. Real smooth.” Lance giggled when Shiro wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“I try. Now, for that cut crease.“ Shiro held the camera on one hand and a small brush on the other. “I already made a tutorial about this so visit that one on my channel. It’s basically picking a mid tone color, the one you use to blend the lighter shade and the darker shade. I also often use a puffed out brush with a kind of a pointed tip for precision. If you watch my videos, you know what I’m talking about.“

“Will this take long? Because living with you has given me the impression that cat eye liner only takes five minutes.“

“Yeah it does, but I’m an expert. Most people don’t get it done that fast that’s why they look up tutorials on how to do it. And done.“

“How do I look?“ Lance batted his eyelashes at the camera.

“Perfect. Now for the eyeliner!“

“Can you do it with one hand?“ Lance challenged him, arching a perfect brow at him.

“Can I do it with one hand. I can do it with my eyes closed.“

“Yeah, but the first time you did it, you poked me in the eye! My three million subscribers act as my witness on that one!“

“Hush now or I’ll kiss you again.”

Lance pursed his lips and made kissy faces to the camera.

“The easiest way to make a cat eye is to use an angled brush. So you start at the corner of the eyes then go up in a diagonal direction. After that, connect the line you just made to the inner corner of your eye, but not all the way to your tear duct. If that’s the look you’re looking for, that’s fine, but sometimes, people tear up when their eyeliner smudges on that part of the eye. Last step is to fill the empty spaces with your eyeliner. Pro tip, use the eyebrow as a guide. The tail end of the eye brow should direct you on which way to go. Never, I mean NEVER for the love of god, let your eyeliner and your eyebrow meet. It’s my personal preference but please just don’t.“

“Remember that poor girl at the mall?“

“Yeah. I wanted to ask her if I can fix her make up but she looked so confident wearing it. I didn’t have the heart to say it. Now let me make your other eye and I’ll be done.“

“So Shiro, what do you think of those eyeliner hacks that’s plaguing Instagram?“

“Mmm, I’m not opposed to it. Some of them are really creative, and some are pretty ineffective. If you’re new to it, then doing the hacks are fine. But I still recommend doing it by hand because those tools aren’t always around when you need a quick eyeliner. And done!“

“Ooh let me see!“ Lance picked up a mirror from Shiro’s makeup bag. “Damn, this eyeliner can cut some bitches!“

“I wanted to do a rainbow eyeshadow but Allura took my rainbow palette.“

Lance took the camera away from Shiro and placed it on the night stand near their bed. Lance sat on the floor and pulled Shiro by his legs until Lance was sitting between his legs. Lance pulled out a small chair under the bed and sat comfortably on it.

“Unlike Shiro here, I already have my things ready.“ Lance got his own kit and brought a bottle of aquamarine nail polish to show it to the camera.

“I don’t know why you need all these things just for putting on nail polish.“

“Excuse me, these things are needed for manis and pedis. But since I don’t have the time to do all of these, I’ll just put some oil so it doesn’t stick to your skin.“ Lance placed a few drops of oil on a q tip and spread it on the skin around Shiro’s nails.

“Are you sure that’s oil?“

“Of course it’s oil, what do you think it is?“

“Lube.“

Lance burst out laughing, hitting Shiro’s legs.

“It’s not lube!“

“Of course it’s not.“ Shiro’s other hand opened the laptop that was on the bed and checked the live chat. “People keep saying that you look good under me. Let’s give them a nice view, shall we.“ Shiro took the camera from the night stand and continued the recording with Lance sitting between his legs.

“Smile for the camera, babe.”

Lance looked up and smiled. “So what I do is I make sure that the brush doesn’t have too much nail polish in them. I do this,” Lance twirled the brush around the bottle’s hole, “so it doesn’t end up clunky in some places. You start at the middle of the nail then do the corners. One nail is done, on to the rest of your fingers.”

“Why do I feel like I did more work than you? I put on foundation, concealer, eyebrows, and even did your eyes.”

“Ok first of all, you’re the one who insisted you do my face.”

Shiro coughed out a laugh.

“Not that- ugh. You are so going to pay for this, Takashi.” With Lance kind of mad at Shiro, he hastened his movements. In just a few more minutes, he was done painting Shiro’s hand and feet. Shiro was worried he’d gone too far because the video was spent in silence. He tried being cute by gently patting Lance’s hair but it didn’t work.

Shiro pouted at the camera, “Babe, talk to me. I said I was sorry.”

“I’m done!” Lance gave a cool smile towards the camera as he stood up and dusted off his pants. Lance took the camera away from Shiro’s prosthetic hand. “I’m gonna fix myself some juice, you want some?” Shiro nodded. “If you want me to forgive you, you better not move and smudge my work, understand?”

“Sir yes, sir.” Shiro gave a salute.

“Good boy.” Before Lance walked away, the camera caught the blush that creeped up Shiro’s face.

Lance exited their room and made his way to their kitchen. He placed the camera on the counter and rummaged through the stuff inside the fridge. “I’m not mad at Shiro, you guys. I’m just playing him haha. I’m gonna have my revenge.” Lance took his time drinking his juice before filling up a glass for Shiro. “Let’s go see if Shiro’s been a good boy, shall we?”

Lance focused the camera on Shiro who was sitting still on where he left him. “Aww, babe, you didn’t really move? Such a good boy!” Lance playfully pinched Shiro’s cheek. “Want some juice?”

Shiro nodded. When Shiro tried to grab the glass Lance shook his head at him. “Nuh-uh. You’re not allowed to move, remember?”

“I do have a prosthetic hand though.”

One look from lance made Shiro back up and opened his mouth slightly. Lance brought the glass near Shiro’s mouth and slowly tilted it up.

“Good boy, Shiro.” Lance placed the empty glass and the camera on the night stand and plopped on the bed. Shiro still didn’t move despite the slight bounce.

Lance looked up and smirked at the camera. His hands slowly crept up Shiro’s back until they clutched the fabric of Shiro’s shirt at his chest.

“Lance.” Shiro groaned, face aflame.

“Remember, Shiro, you’re not allowed to move.” Lance whispered at Shiro’s ear.

“This is so not fair.” Shiro said through gritted teeth. “Is this your revenge?”

“Yup.” Lance’s hands raked at his chest and at his sides. “And you’re not going to do anything about it, right babe?”

“Ugh I hate you.“

“Nah, you looove me.“ Lance nibbled at an ear. “I’m gonna have lots of fun and you’re gonna let me.“

“Lance.“ Shiro whined.

Shiro’s eyes bulged out when Lance’s fingers inched at his sides. One moment he was touching his chest but now he was digging his fingers at his chest. Warm laughter bubbled in his chest.

“Lance?“

“Yes?“ Lance’s hands travelled down the dip on Shiro’s waist.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing?” Lance buried his fingers in Shiro’s skin which made Shiro jump a bit.

“Bullshit.”

Lance giggled, his hands still inching towards Shiro’s tickle spots. Because he was found out, Lance continued the onslaught knowing that Shiro was not going to move, right?

Shiro was laughing so loud, practically vibrating as he fought to not move. That made Lance giggle even more and dig his fingers deeper into Shiro’s armpits.

“Fuck it.“ Shiro dove at Lance, tackling him into the mattress. Shiro was sure he smudged the hell out of his nail polish but the cheeky wink Lance gave him sealed the deal. Shiro knows all of Lance’s tickle spots and he abused the hell out of them. Shiro tickled Lance’s armpits, his neck, his sides, even the back of his knees. Lance was pretty much tearing up at this point as Shiro tickled him some more. He couldn’t really move because Shiro was over him, his weight overpowering him. We couldn’t have that.

Lance flipped Shiro with him sitting on top of him, straddling him even.

“Aha!“ Lance tickled Shiro’s sides, not minding Shiro’s hands on his waist.

“Babe, your phone’s ringing.“

“Huh?“

“I can feel it vibrating.“ Shiro chuckled as he felt the slight tickle on his abdomen.

Lance fished out his phone. “It’s Pidge.”

Shiro simply shrugged, he was now gripping at Lance’s slim waist.

“Hello?“

“You are still live, ya dingus!“

Lance gasped, completely forgetting the camera that was positioned on the night stand. He scrambled off Shiro and grabbed the camera.

“Uh, I guess that ends the live show?“ Lance said, his embarrassment tainting his cheeks red.

Shiro propped his chin on lance’s shoulder, “Click the subscribe button on the bottom right of the screen if you liked what you see. Subscribe to Shiro-to-Hero for make up and work out tutourials and videos.“

“And for updates on videos and vlogs, subscribe to my channel for your daily dose of Lance goodness.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, Lance and I will do some stuff that are not agreeable to the terms of use of YouTube so… Bye!” Shiro covered the Camera’s lens. And before turning it off, the people behind the screen heard Lance whine out Shiro’s name.

Aaaaah I am so sorry this was soooo late @shancefluffweek!!! the week snuck up on me and ahhh! At least I finished it. Hope you guys enjoyed my sorry excuse of a fluff fic. I promise I’ll do better tomorrow.

hmmm… not nsfw i think.

#shance #shancefluffweek #shancefluff2017 #voltron #sorry i'm late #so sorry

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jenstar1992-2 · 7 years

Text

“Mission” (Part 3/Final)

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Female Reader

Rated: T

Word Count: Approx. 3,065

Warnings: Language/cursing, making out/ kissing (not really sure if that counts but I’m putting it on here anyway), hints to smut.

Key: (y/f/c) = Your favorite color (c/o/d) = Color of dress (y/e/c) = Your eye color (y/f/f) = Your favorite flower (y/b/s) = Your birth stone (y/f/n) = Your first name (y/l/n) = Your last name

Requested by: sgarrett49

A/N: Reader is American, hence some of the terminology used on reader’s part. Not super important, just figured I’d explain. Also, I haven’t written any kind of actual “story” in years so if it stinks I apologize. Sorry for the length too, I always feel the need to be really detailed in my writing, so I apologize for my wordiness.

Part 1, Part 2

***A half hour later***

The vehicle came to a stop, and it was only then that you realized you hadn’t really been paying attention to where you had been going. Not that you could see much through the tinted windows in the dark, but you were curious now, it seemed like a longer drive than you had anticipated. You chalked it up to the fact that you had been too busy keeping a close watch on your hostage. You had knocked him out using the small tranquilizer dart in your ring. You couldn’t risk him trying to escape so you figured he could sleep through the ride. The tranquilizing agent only lasted about twenty minutes, give or take, so when he started to stir a few minutes before you arrived at your destination, you were a little surprised. He must have a high metabolism or something, you thought, that ran through him fast. You brushed it off, focusing on keeping him in check as he came out of his drowsy state. Eggsy opened the door and pulled your captive out with him. Then with one hand holding the cuffed man, he offered you his free hand and helped you out of the car. You smiled to yourself. Your boyfriend, always the gentleman.

Once you were on your feet, you went to the man’s other side and grabbed his arm as you and Eggsy walked him toward what appeared to be some sort of warehouse. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something seemed awfully familiar about this place. What was it? But before you could figure it out, Eggsy paused and looked to you. With a questioning expression, you looked back at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He gave you a gentle smile and answered with, “Nothing luv, it’s just… well could you stay here for a moment?”

Your expression became even more puzzled. “What, why?”

“Well it’s just that, someone has to watch the car, don’t need someone nicking our ride home do we”, he asked.

You were beyond confused, and also a bit peeved with Eggsy. What the hell was he worried about the car for, who was out here that could steal a car anyway, you were practically in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. This strange behavior of his was really making you weary, was he feeling okay? So, you simply asked, “Uh, are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, fine, why?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, because you just asked me to watch the car, since when do we ‘watch the car’”, you asked, using air quotes to emphasize your words.

“Since we’re using a fancy limousine”, he said, cocking an eyebrow and making a face the to you screamed, ‘Are you buying my bullshit?’. Well you weren’t, but you weren’t going to call him out immediately, just how far would he take this lie?

“Why can’t the driver watch the car”, you asked, annoyance clear in your voice, looking back toward the vehicle in question. Just then the driver’s side door opened and the driver emerged, closing the door behind him and walking toward you. “Merlin?” Well, you didn’t see that coming. “Since when do you double as a chauffeur”, you asked.

“Since I wanted to make sure if things got messy, you two had backup. Besides, someone has to interrogate this traitor”, he said looking at the man, who simply scoffed.

“Huh. Well, that still doesn’t explain why I have to watch the damn car”, you said, annoyed again.

Merlin and Eggsy exchanged a look before Eggsy turned his attention back to you. “Okay, the truth is I feel the need to get a few hits in on this guy given the fact that he was, basically, trying to get my girlfriend into bed with him. He got a little too close for my liking, and now he’s going to answer for it. But don’t worry, I won’t mess him up too bad”, he said with a wink.

The man perked up at this, “Come on man, how was I supposed to know she was taken? Besides, she was giving off major ‘fuck me’ vibes, I was just…”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before Eggsy gave him a good punch in the gut. “I’d be very careful what I say if I were you. That’s a lady your talking about, my lady”, Eggsy said, his words making your heart flutter. You kind of liked his mild possessiveness, it was kind of hot. “Now what do you say”, he asked the man.

He looked to you and said, “I’m sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Good”, Eggsy said, looking back at you, “I just don’t want you to see confrontation go down. Won’t paint me in such a good light.”

You shook your head, “I’ve seen you fight before, this is no different.”

He put a hand on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Babe, please?”

You considered arguing your point, but in the end let it go, you were too tired to argue anymore. “Fine. Just don’t be long. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go home, and uh…”, you moved closer until your face was inches from his, “I still haven’t properly welcomed you back yet.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I’ll be right back”, he said, then lightly gave your lips a peck before walking the man inside with Merlin.

Once they were inside the building, and out of eye shot, you slumped against the limo with a big sigh. Well, things could’ve gone a lot worse, you thought to yourself, and at least this time I got a reason for his sudden change of behavior. Although, that still doesn’t give me an answer about the past couple weeks. Maybe I’m just looking too much into this, I really need to stop worrying so much, it’s not good for my health. As you were leaning with your hands behind you on the hood of the limo, having a silent conversation with yourself, you started to notice things around you. This place was secluded, with nothing but the warehouse and miles of dense forest surrounding it from all sides. It was like someone came into the middle of a huge forest and decided, ‘Hey, I’m gonna put a building here’. You couldn’t even imagine what the warehouse had actually once been used for, but it was clear it had not been used for its intended purposes in years. Then all of a sudden you had a realization. You knew why this place seemed so familiar, it was the same warehouse that you had been sent to on your first mission with Eggsy, back before you two were a couple, when you just playfully flirted with each other, not knowing what it would turn into. You two had been assigned to break up a big drug deal that was going down in this very warehouse. These guys were in possession of some really nasty shit, something new they wanted to bring to the streets, a drug that made crazy zombie people on bath salts look like child’s play. You two busted up the deal, kicked ass, and brought the drugs back to the Kingsman base to be properly disposed of. It went off without a hitch, and that was when everyone saw just what a great team you guys made, and the dynamic duo was born. You smiled at this coincidence, you never thought you’d end up here again. Suddenly, you were pulled from your train of thought when you heard some sort of commotion coming from the warehouse. At first you thought it was just Eggsy getting a little too carried away, until you heard something that sent chills down your spine. From the muffled noises came the loud and distinct cry of your boyfriend yelling your name, then nothing. You sat there, not knowing what was happening, before you then heard Merlin’s voice yelling to you, “Y/N, get in here!” You immediately pushed yourself off the car and bolted to the warehouse’s entrance.

You ran into the building looking around wildly, worry filling your gut. At first all you could see was darkness, but then you made out a figure standing on the other side of the room. You cautiously made our way toward it, pulling a small, almost pocket sized, dagger from the leather garter you wore around your upper thigh that had been hidden under your dress. It was a simple leather strap with little pouches sewn along it, and a small sheath for your dagger. You had made it yourself for occasions such as this when you couldn’t wear your normal Kingsman issued attire. You never went on a mission without a few toys, just in case. As you approached the figure you saw that it was Merlin. Putting your dagger back in its sheath you ran to him and asked, “What happened, where’s Eggsy?” Merlin looked at you and then nodded his head toward the space behind you. You turned around to see your boyfriend slowly walking toward you, with a disappointed look on his face. You ran and hugged him tight, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. “You scared the shit out of me, what’s going on”, you asked as you pulled back to look at him.

He gave a half-hearted smile before saying, “Sorry luv, didn’t mean to worry you, it’s just…”.

“What”, you asked, concerned.

“He got away” he said, lowering his head and looking at his feet.

“He what? How?”, you asked. When he didn’t respond you hooked a finger under his chin and made him look at you. “Babe, what happened?”

He sighed, “Well, I let him loose so it would be a fair fight. I didn’t want to just beat on a defenseless guy, even if he is a prick. Turns out he did have something up his sleeve”, he held up a small spherical object, “It’s some sort of smoke balm, he set it off and we were blind, then he was gone. Quick little bastard, I’ll give ‘em that.”

You face palmed. “Again, I ask, how? Seriously, I leave you alone for just a few minutes and you let the ass escape. Really?”

“Sorry”, he said, looking glum.

You sighed, “Alright, come on, let’s go catch this douche.” You turned to head back to where you had entered from, but you felt a hand grab your arm, holding you back. You turned back, giving him a confused look.

He looked at you and said, “There’s no rush, he won’t get far. Besides, we have a more pressing matter to discuss.”

“What is it”, you asked.

He then smiled, “Merlin, if you would.” You looked to see Merlin back up to the wall and raise his arm, flicking on a light switch. Suddenly, the room was filled with a reddish, blue hue, and you noticed it was coming from Christmas lights that were wrapped around anything and everything in the giant room. In the dim lighting you could also see flowers strewn all around the floor, (y/f/f), your favorite, that’s when the floral scent finally hit you and you found yourself surrounded by sparkling lights and a soothing aroma. This was nice, really nice, but what was it all doing here?

You looked to Eggsy, a puzzled look on your face. “What’s all this?”

“Do you recognize this place”, he asked.

“Yeah, it took me a minute but I finally remembered. It’s the place we carried out our first mission”, you said.

“That’s right”, he said before taking your left hand in both of his and continued, “This is where we first worked as partners, and on that mission, I discovered something.” You cocked your head questioningly. He continued, “I realized that I was in love with you, and I knew from that day on that I had to have you in my life, always.” You blinked, feeling tears prick at your eyes. He’d never told you about this before. “When you finally agreed to date me, I was thrilled and all I could think was ‘God, don’t screw this up’. But here we are, and you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.” You laughed, still fighting back tears. Why was he telling you all this, why now? “Every time I see you I feel like a lucky man, because I know your mine, and I’m yours, and that’s how I want it to always be, which is why I know this is the right thing to do.”

You pulled your eyebrows together in confusion, “What’s the right thing to do?” He then got down on one knee, pulling a little box from his pocket. You couldn’t breathe, was this really happening? You looked from the box, back up to him. “Eggsy”, you said in a barely audible voice.

He smiled, opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring with little diamonds surrounding a (y/b/s) stone, then asked, “(y/f/n) (y/l/n), will you marry me?”

You laughed as tears started to run down your cheeks. Nodding you responded with, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes”, you repeated, and with that he got to his feel and hugged you tight, lifting you off the ground as he did so. He then put you down and took your hand once more, delicately sliding the ring on your finger. He then took your face in his hands and brought your lips to his, kissing you passionately. This is why he had been acting so secretive lately, he was planning his proposal, you felt a little guilty for getting so annoyed with him, but at least you now knew you had nothing to worry about. As the kiss ended you rested your forehead against his, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that was plastered on your face, but then it hit you. “Wait”, you said, pulling back to look at him, “what about the traitor douchebag? Shouldn’t we be chasing after him? He’s got to have gotten pretty far by now.”

Eggsy and Merlin laughed before Eggsy replied, “No need to worry about him luv.” You raised an eyebrow. He turned and shouted, “Hey George, you can come out now.” You looked to a door you hadn’t noticed until now, to see the man you had previously captured walking into the room, a smile on his face.

“Wait, okay, what’s going on? I thought he escaped”, you said.

Eggsy laughed again and said, “No luv, he didn’t go anywhere, and he wasn’t our prisoner, not really. He was here of his own accord. I asked him to help me out, and make it convincing.”

George piped in and added, “Yeah, and look where it got me, all battered and bruised. Your girlfriend has quite the arm on her, better be careful you don’t ever get on her bad side.”

They both chuckled and Eggsy replied with, “You think I don’t know that, why do you think I put a ring on her finger, don’t find a woman like her everyday bruv. Oh, and my girlfriend doesn’t have a good arm, my fiancé does.” He gave you a smile and you returned it. Hearing him refer to you as his fiancé made you melt inside.

“So, this was all pretend then? The mission, the so called traitor, all of it”, you asked.

“Pretty much”, Merlin said, now standing with you all.

“I really do work for Kingsman”, George said, “I work in the tech department.”

“Huh”, you said, nodding in understanding “Wow you really went out of your way to make this seem legit didn’t you”, you asked your now fiancé.

“Well I sort of had to luv, you’re not an easy woman to fool. If I had just taken you out on a date or something, you would’ve seen the proposal coming from a mile away. I wanted it to be a surprise”, he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Well it definitely was a surprise”, you said, then gave him another soft kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you (Y/N)”, he said. He gave the tip of your nose a quick peck before releasing you. You giggled lightly before turning to face George.

“Sorry for hating your guts, and punching you… and kicking you, and whatever else I did. Basically, sorry for this whole thing”, you said to him, feeling a bit guilty for being so cruel to him under false pretenses.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, just means I’m a better actor than I thought I was”, George said with a laugh. You laughed as well.

As you all exited the warehouse, making your way to the limo you paused, holding Eggsy back as Merlin and George continued walking to the vehicle, too busy with their own conversation to notice. You looked back into the warehouse, at the lights, the flowers, and finally to the ring on your finger and smiled. “Eggsy, this was perfect, thank you”, you said, looking into his eyes.

“No, thank you luv”, he said, placing a hand on your cheek.

“For what”, you asked curiously.

“For saying yes.” You both laughed. “Now, let’s go home. If I’m not mistaken, I was promised a proper welcome home”, he said with a mischievous grin.

You laughed. “Yes, you were. If anything, I am a woman of my word”, you said, grasping his hand and intertwining your fingers with his, “let’s go, Honey.”

He laughed and held his other arm out in front of him, “After you, Dear.”

You both laughed again as you walked the rest of the way to the limo. What a night this had become. One minute you were chasing an asshole traitor, risking tooth and nail to get him to interrogation, then next thing you know your engaged. Things really took a turn for the better, even if the entire mission was a dud, you didn’t care. There would be other missions, granted, none as good as this one, but others nonetheless. Besides, you and Eggsy were about to embark on the most dangerous mission of all, marriage. But this is one mission you weren’t worried about, because Eggsy would be right there by your side the whole way, and you knew that together you could get through anything life threw at the two of you. You were the dynamic duo after all.

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