#you won’t ever catch me saying that corny shit i promise. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!”

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.”

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.”

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet?

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend.

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes.

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you.

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?”

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed.

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up.

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks.

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought.

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him.

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in.

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him.

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well.

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you.

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend.

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?”

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister.

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!”

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you.

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out.

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him.

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else.

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though?

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place.

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room.

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home.

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls”

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right”

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait.

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend.

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin.

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones.

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?!

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown.

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream.

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway.

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive.

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it.

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people.

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?”

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?”

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.”

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.”

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should.

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well.

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.”

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.”

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good.

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good.

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you.

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you.

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand.

“What?”

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it.

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty.

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it.

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was.

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it.

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning.

“Kiss me.”

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.”

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good.

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes.

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad.

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken angst #dream x reader #dream x you #dreamwastaken x y/n

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 5.5k ➽ summary: the four times bucky said goodbye and the one time he said hello ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, ANGST, eventual happy ending ➽ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONK!!!! i meant for this to be a fluff blurb but it.... evolved lol. thanks @groupieforbucky for beta reading this! masterlist/taglist in bio!

March 10, 1935

You sat on the hood of the car, watching Bucky mess with a candle in front of you. His lighter wasn’t wanting to catch in the cold evening breeze, but he was adamant on lighting the candle up. “What’s the big deal with this candle, Buck?” you asked. “You’re just gonna blow it right out. You really want it that bad?”

Bucky scoffed at you. “Sweet, simple Y/N,” he chuckled. “It’s a tradition for me. My mom used to do it, so I have to.”

You sighed softly, and you stretched your hands out in front of you. Bucky looked at you for a moment, his eyes sweeping over your frame, and he stepped closer. His large hips settled between your knees easily and he put his hands in yours, and you clicked your tongue.

“No, you twit,” you giggled. “Gimme the damn lighter.”

Bucky tilted his head at you and smiled, and he jumped up onto the hood of the car next to you. The two of you had driven out into the countryside for a night alone, just you and your Bucky on his birthday. You had even baked a cake-- you had been saving money for months to be able to afford all of the ingredients for his favorite vanilla sponge. The cake had sat in a box in the backseat of Bucky’s car as you two had walked along the riverside and splashed cold March water on each now, and now it sat next to you as you yourself were sat with Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. James Barnes was a great guy, charming and cordial, turning 18 that day. He didn’t have much family besides you and your friend from school Steve Rogers, but, as Bucky often said, “You’re easier on the eyes than ol’ Stevie.”

You lit the lighter with ease, shielding the little flame with your body, and you successfully lit the candle and stuck it into the top of the cake. “Make a wish, Buck,” you said, offering him the cake. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember.”

“Well, why not?” Bucky scoffed. “I wanna tell you what my wish is.”

“‘Cause it won’t come true, whacky,” you giggled. “Blow out your candle before it drips wax onto your cake.”

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes reflecting the orange of the setting sun, and he finally rounded his pink lips and blew out the candle in one strong, swift breath. The smoke curled upwards and you plucked it out of the cake, and you smiled at the bit of white frosting that got on your finger. “Happy birthday, baby,” you said, swiping the tip of his nose with the frosting, and he laughed. “I hope it’s a good one.”

“It’s the best one yet,” Bucky said. “Besides the inaugural one, of course.”

“I wish I could’ve gotten you something more than a stupid cake,” you mumbled.

“No, I love it,” Bucky insisted. “It’s really tasty; you worked hard on it.” With that, he scooped up the bit of frosting from his nose and offered his finger to you, and you licked up the frosting.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” you replied, straightening your posture. “C’mon, eat up. My curfew is at nine.”

Bucky began to eat the cake with his fingers, offering you bits every so often. The car radio was playing just loud enough for you two to hear, and, even with Bucky’s jacket, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to him. You loved him. This wasn’t typical puppy love. You could see yourself baking Bucky vanilla sponge cakes for years to come. Even though he always told you that there was no chance he’d be sent over, you imagined sending him a letter with the recipe so that, at the very least, he could think of you.

Finally, the box was empty, and Bucky laid back onto the hod, sucking bits of crumbs from his fingers. “Thanks for that, doll,” he said, and you cuddled up into his side. His arms were behind his head, and you settled your head in his underarm. It smelled so much like him and was so ridiculously warm, and you melted into him fully. “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his arm. “I love this.”

“This?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged and pressed your hand to his chest. “Just being here with you,” you said softly. “I never want it to end.”

Bucky sighed, and he leaned to kiss your head. “Me too,” he whispered. A few quiet moments passed, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Can you promise me something, dollface?”

“Anything,” you agreed.

“We’ll spend every birthday together,” Bucky said. “Even if we’re apart, you’ll send me letters and all. I’ll do the same for your birthday too.”

You nodded, and you clasped Bucky’s big hand in your little one. “Deal,” you whispered. “As long as I can make you cakes.”

“I can’t bake worth shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me.”

“I’d love to do that, Bucky,” you told him.

March 10, 1942

“Look at you,” you cooed. “All gussied up. What’s the occasion, Sarge?”

Bucky threw his arms around your waist and spun you around, earning him a squeal. He wore his dress uniform, his tie done perfectly and belt cinched around his jacket. His shoes were shiny and his hair gelled and combed, his face clean-shaven. He smelled like the aftershave you had gotten him for Christmas. There was an obvious occasion, and you figured that it was something more than his 25th birthday. “I wanted to take my dame out to dinner,” Bucky said, turning you so that your back pressed against his front. “Is that allowed, Mrs. Barnes?”

You giggled as Bucky snuffled his mouth into your neck. “I guess so,” you huffed. “But it’s your birthday! I should be doing something for you!”

“You let me have dessert for breakfast,” Bucky laughed. Then, he kissed your neck, and he added, “And then you gave me vanilla sponge cake afterwards. You’ve done plenty for me, doll.”

“But it’s usually tradition for the birthday-haver to be the guest of honor,” you said. “And for you to be pleased. It doesn’t make sense that you do all the work today. That’s not how birthdays work.”

“Well, dollface, that’s why I joined the Army, remember?” Bucky laughed. “Wanna help people, all that business?”

“I thought it was to get away from me,” you giggled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, because I joined the Army to get away from you and immediately turned around and married you to keep you around,” he scoffed. “You’re not thinking right, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m still fuzzy from this morning,” you admitted. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and drew you closer into him, and he took a deep breath from your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the powder you had used on your face. “You broke my brain, you and your stupid tongue.”

“And my lips,” Bucky added cheekily. “Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I won’t ever forget that. But don’t you agree?”

“Christ, woman!” Bucky laughed. “Let me take you to dinner! Why’re you fighting this so hard?”

“I’m not fighting it!” you said quickly. “I’m just saying that it’s not how it’s usually done!”

“Well, we don’t do things the usual way, do we?” Bucky laughed. “Anyway, I think I like this better. Any day I don’t shower you with my love is a wasted day.”

“You’re corny,” you laughed.

“But you love it,” Bucky said, and you shrugged.

“Tolerate, more like,” you said, and Bucky laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment, and you said, “Finish getting ready, I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t take too long, dollface,” Bucky said, knocking your chin lightly with his finger. “I already miss you.”

You wrestled yourself from Bucky’s grip and went to the door, and you opened it wide to see a man dressed like your Bucky. Older and stern, he struck a sense of fear and apprehension into you. “Is this the home of Sergeant James B. Barnes?” he asked in a thick voice.

“Yes,” you replied.

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked.

You swallowed thickly. You already knew what this man’s presence meant. You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let the man in, and you called, “Bucky, sweetheart! You’ve got a visitor!”

“Is it Stevie?” Bucky called from the depths of the apartment.

“No, it’s…�� you started. “Just come here, James.”

Bucky appeared at light speed. You never called him James, not even on the day that you had gotten married. He was your Bucky. As soon as he spotted the Army man at your side, his body went rigid, and he gave the man a salute. “At ease, Sarge,” the older man said. “You two seem in good spirits.”

“It’s…” Bucky began and cleared his throat. His stance relaxed, and his arm slid carefully around your waist. “It’s my birthday, sir. We were on our way to dinner.”

“Might have to cancel that reservation,” the Army man rumbled. “The 107th is being called to Germany.”

Your heart sank, and you couldn’t control the tears that stung your eyes. Bucky’s jaw flexed tightly as he absorbed the information, and he sighed heavily. “When do we leave?” he asked slowly.

“In the morning,” Bucky’s superior said. “The planes ship out at oh-five-hundred.”

Even under Bucky’s arm, the room felt cold. The trumpet on the radio sounded so distant, and you heard the two men having a conversation behind a veil of disbelief. Bucky had promised you that he wouldn’t get sent overseas. He said the 107th didn’t do that. He had promised you. He had fucking promised you. You broke out of his grip and escaped into the kitchen, and your gaze focused on the cake that sat on the counter. A piece was taken from it, the slice that you had allowed him for breakfast, and the cake itself was housed in a pretty glass cover that your mother had bought you as a wedding present. The candle was still stuck into the top of it, the tip burnt black and curled up.

“Y/N,” you heard from the door, and you turned to see your husband. His face was pale, his blue eyes as dark as the ocean, and he chewed his bottom lip. “Doll, I--”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” you whispered. “You have to go. It’s what it is. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” You turned back quickly, sniffling and trying to hide your tears, and you added, “Your bag’s in the spare room. I think your nametag’s in the box in our closet, I can check if you need me to.”

Suddenly, his strong arms were around you, holding you to his chest. Bucky didn’t say a word. The material of his dress uniform was itchy against your skin and you could only imagine what it felt like for him, and your knees buckled. The tears came, hot and burning your cheeks, and a sob wrecked your throat. “You promised me,” you whimpered. “You fucking promised me, you bastard! You said that the 107th doesn’t get sent over, you fucking lied to me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Bucky said, his voice rising to match yours. “You would’ve made yourself sick with all your worrying about when I’d be sent overseas, and I didn’t want that for you!”

You broke yourself from his grip, and you sniffled up your tears as best as you could. Even if your heart wasn’t crushed, you cried when you were angry, so tears were bound to happen no matter what. “So you lied to me instead?” you asked. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Bucky? I’ve never lied to you, and I only expected the same from you; I didn’t expect for you to lie about something so fucking big! Jesus Christ, I can’t stand the sight of you.”

“Doll, please, listen to me,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Bucky was bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you. He had a tough skin and an even tougher heart from years of neglect and rejection. But you were his weakness. He cried when you did, laughed when you did, kissed you harder when you kissed him. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, but your heart burned with acidic hate. “Get out,” you said. “If you’re gonna leave in the morning, I don’t see why you need to stick around here any longer.”

“Y/N!” Bucky cried. “Darling, please settle down!”

“If you’re so keen on leaving, then do it,” you said, wrenching your arm from his grip. “And don’t call me darling. Don’t call me doll, don’t call me nothing. You gave that up when you lied to me for years! Our entire relationship! You were already enlisted when we met! You have literally lied to me every day for seven years! What else are you lying to me about? What else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing!” Bucky said. “Christ, you need to settle down, please. I know you’re upset, but do you really think leaving things like this will make you feel better?”

“It’ll make me feel something,” you whispered. “Something other than missing you. Go stay with Steve or whatever, I just… I just don’t want to fall asleep next to you, and then wake up and not have you there. I… I wanna say goodbye.”

Bucky took a tentative step towards you, then pulled you close to him. His eyes were watery as he looked at your face, and he swiped away your makeup with his thumb. He smiled wistfully, every single memory of you that he had shooting through his brain as quickly as they could manage, and he said, “Then don’t. I’m coming back, my love. I promise you. And I’m not keeping anything from you. All my cards are on the table here, doll. I’m coming back for you.”

You two devised a plan. You and Bucky would go to bed, but he would wake you up when he did, and you would get a goodbye. You helped him pack his bag according to regulation, and you carefully slipped in a picture that your mother had taken on your wedding day. You sat in the middle, veil over your hair, flowers still fresh, with Steve Rogers next to you. You were about an inch taller than him in the picture, but you both were smiling. The bride and the best man. You knew that Bucky needed to be reminded of his brother as much as he was reminded of you.

When the alarm rang shrilly in the morning, you watched from the bed as Bucky got up and dressed in his uniform. An olive green that complimented his skin, his boots tied around his ankle, and his silver dog tags buried under his collar. He turned to you, silent, crying, and he moved back to the bed. You still wore your nightgown, and Bucky took the lacy hem in his fingers and sighed. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered.

Your arms went around his neck and tugged him in, and he buried his face in your neck. You caressed his head as he cried, and you tried to hug him as tightly as he had hugged you. “I’ll miss you more,” you whispered back. Your chest hurt with the urge to cry, but even the notion of it made you feel sick to your stomach. “I love you so much, Bucky.”

“When I get home,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna hold you and never let you go.”

“I’ll pencil it in,” you said through your tears.

As soon as the door shut, you pulled his pillow to your mouth, closed your teeth around it, and screamed.

March 10, 1943

Steve’s heart ached as he looked at the door. It was a normal apartment door, a little plaque with the number on it, above a peephole, but there was a little green ribbon held to the door with scotch tape. Bucky’s place. He remembered when Bucky had told him that you and him had gotten a place in the city. He was excited and said that he couldn’t wait for Steve to come over and see it. But that was before Bucky got sent to Germany. Before Steve joined Project Rebirth, before… Everything. He would be surprised if you recognized him right away.

He knocked on the door. There was a thumping from inside the apartment, and he heard your voice say, “Motherfucker…” before the door opened. You looked good. Your skin was glowing, your hair was done, and you were even wearing makeup. Steve had always known you as very put together, but you were Bucky’s wife. You were beautiful to him. Confusion was etched across your face, and you slowly said, “Can I help you, sir?”

Steve slowly took off his uniform hat. “You’re Mrs. Barnes?” he said, even though he knew the answer. There was a protocol to follow. The Army allowing him to be the one to deliver the news was enough of a breach.

“Yes,” you said carefully. “Can I inquire as to who’s asking?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he began, and your mouth dropped into a shocked look. “With the United States Army.”

“Stevie!” you cried, and you threw yourself at him. You knew that he had finally managed to join the Army and that he was sent to Germany as well, but you hadn’t had any correspondence with him. Bucky had stopped answering your letters and, while you feared the worst, you tried to keep your anxiety at bay. There was a reason, one that didn’t involve Bucky dying. There had to be. “Oh my God! You’re so… Big! I mean, I heard about the whole Project Rebirth thing and saw pictures of you, but… You’re taller than me now!”

Steve gripped you tightly. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it’s just me and Alpine, but you’re always welcome here, Stevie. Can I make you a drink? There’s some cake in the kitchen…”

Steve distantly listened to your chatter as he stepped into the apartment. It was warm and smelled like vanilla, and the walls were a pleasant beige with pictures. An official picture of Bucky hung in a nice frame right by the door, and Steve smiled at his best friend. “Cake?” he repeated suddenly, processing your words.

“Yeah!” you replied. “Buck’s favorite birthday cake. I’ve made it for him every year and, even though he’s in Germany right now, it didn’t feel right not to make it, ya know?”

Steve carefully sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen, and he watched a fluffy white cat jump up to meet him. You served him a slice of cake on a pretty china plate, and you sat and buried your chin in your palm. “So what’s going on with you? Did you just get back?”

Steve couldn’t even bear to look at the cake. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in the morning.”

“Oh,” you said, and your heart sank. “Is everything alright?” You pulled Alpine into your grip and gently stroked her back, and you watched Steve’s gaze falter between you and the cake. “Steve. Is something wrong?”

Steve sighed, and his big shoulders sank. “A few months ago, Bucky and other soldiers in the 107th Infantry were taken as POWs. I led a team and we managed to rescue them. But then Bucky joined a squad that I was a part of, The Howling Commandos. As part of a mission with the Howlies, Bucky was--”

“Stop,” you hissed. You set Alpine aside and stood up, and you pressed your knuckles to your mouth. You knew it. You knew that Stevie was too good to be true. He was there to deliver bad news, the worst news for a military wife to be told. You sighed and hung your head, and you whispered, “Is there a body, at least?”

The chair creaked as Steve stood up, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We couldn’t locate one,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You sniffled. “An empty casket,” you mumbled. “An empty home, empty promises… Steve. Is there any hope that he’s alive? Even, like, infinitesimal? Even one percent?”

Steve shook his head, blond bangs falling onto his forehead. “He fell from a train, Y/N,” he said carefully. “We couldn’t recover a body. If he is alive, then… I think that would be worse. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your legs felt weak, and you braced yourself on the table. Bucky was dead. Your greatest fear had been realized. “What do we do, Stevie?” you whispered.

“We?” Steve asked.

“He was your brother,” you said softly. “He had you when he had nobody else. I think you’re more important to him than me.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said simply. “I chose him, but he chose you. He chose you to live the rest of his life with. He was stuck with me.”

You felt like a ghost as you walked into the living room and sat on the floor. You stared at everything, letting the silence gather around you. The coffee table was still crooked from where Bucky had last sat on the couch; his legs were longer and he always pushed it back to rest his feet. You fussed at him about it, but you didn’t actually mind it all that much. His favorite record was still on the player, playing empty static from when it had ended and you hadn’t flipped it over. Alpine had made a nest out of blankets on the couch, and you tilted your head when you saw that one of them was one that Bucky had made you. He was rather adept at knitting and had made it with yarn he had smuggled back to base, and it came in a package postmarked from Germany. You had referred to it as Bucky’s German blanket, but it was soft and smelled like him. You imagined him sleeping with the unfinished scraps every night. He was gone. He wouldn’t ever put his feet on the coffee table again. He wouldn’t ever get up with a grunt to flip his record and sweep you into his arms and dance with you.

Steve came to sit next to you, and he put a heavy arm over your shoulders. “I managed to nab this from his stuff,” he began, clasping his hand with yours. “Figured you’d want it. He took it off before missions because he said he didn’t want it to get messed up, and it stayed with his bag. It takes forever to out-process a soldier’s personal belongings, and I… I knew you’d want it sooner rather than later.”

A gold ring. The one you had put on Bucky’s finger that day. The wedding was beautiful for what it was. It wasn’t big by any means, just you and Bucky, Steve, and your mother. Your mother provided the veil and Bucky the rings, and Steve had picked a few flowers from his neighbors’ garden box. You had elected to get married at the courthouse rather than a church, and you remembered Bucky being flushed and giggling the entire time. You still wore your gold rings; you never took them off.

You grasped Steve’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered, and your tears finally fell. “It means a lot.”

“You’ll see him again,” Steve told you. “I know you will.”

You sighed and held the ring tightly in your palm. “I hope so.”

March 10, 2023

The breeze was cold as it drifted off of the lake, and Bucky nestled further into his jacket. He was sure there was some level of impropriety to wearing a leather jacket to a funeral, but it was a last minute thing. He didn’t want to come. He felt like he was disrespecting Tony by being there, but Steve had talked him into it. The jacket was the only black thing he owned that covered his arm.

“You sure you wanna go?” Sam asked again, and Steve scoffed. “I mean… There’s so much here.”

“You know that’s a lie,” Bucky laughed. “There’s nothing here for Stevie.”

“Or Bucky,” Steve added. “We’re not from here, Wilson. Not really, anyway. We belong… Somewhere else. Sometime else.”

Sam nodded slowly. He knew that it was true. Steve and Bucky were better off back in the 1940s. “Buck,” he started. “Just… Be good to her.”

Bucky turned to Sam. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He had never once mentioned his wife to Sam, and he knew that Steve wasn’t one to tell. Any artifact that Bucky had of you had been lost to Hydra or time, and the only concrete thing he had was a little newspaper clipping that he kept tucked away: your name, listed in the obituary section. You were nearly a hundred when you were dusted five years ago. Bucky had Washington DC the first chance he had and had hunted down your name on the memorial. Y/N Barnes. Two simple words that had the weight of the universe crashing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Apparently, you had never remarried. You never had children. You had lived as a social worker, helping kids in the system go to good homes, and Bucky knew that he had chosen a good one 88 years ago.

“You say a woman’s name when you sleep sometimes,” Sam said. “Y/N… That’s why you’re going back, right? To see her?”

Even the sound of your name brought a smile to Bucky’s tired face. “Who told you that you could talk to me about my love life?” he asked, even though he was laughing and smiling now. “We’re work partners, remember? We’re not friends.”

“Right, right,” Sam laughed, kicking a rock with his boot. “Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. Neither of you. I don’t trust the two of you together… All kinds of shenanigans.”

Bucky smiled at Steve. “How can we?” he asked.

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, throwing a smile to Sam. “Be good, Wilson. Maybe get a hobby.”

“I hear knitting’s pretty nice,” Bucky said, and he took Steve’s hand to assist in climbing onto the platform.

“Or baking,” Steve added.

“Oh, man, I could do with a slice of cake,” Bucky chuckled.

“Give it ten minutes,” Steve said. “You’ll get your birthday cake.”

“Whoa, birthday?” Sam said. “Is it your birthday, Buck?”

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped.

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled.

“Punk.”

The sound of the machinery began to whir, and Sam called, “Happy birthday, old man!”

And they were gone.

March 10, 1949

You flitted around the apartment, stepping quickly to avoid the little grey kittens all over the floor. As much as you tried to keep them corralled in one place, kittens did what they wanted. The sun coming through the window kept the kitchen floor warm, and Alpine and her babies were often found lounging on the warm tiles.

“Christ above, Jefferson, look at the mess you’ve made!” you exclaimed, bending down and picking up the little kitten. Jefferson was the second of five kittens, and he was the most rambunctious of the group. He was the one to skitter around the apartment at three with a sudden zest for life and, as cute as it was, it made your sleep schedule hell. The little kitten had wet food all over his face, and you quickly wiped him clean with the corner of your dress. “Need to get you a bib, you little wild man.”

The doorbell rang, and a firm knock landed on the door simultaneously. “Coming!” you called, then, quieter, you said to Jefferson, “They really wanna see me, huh?”

You kept Jefferson under your arm as you traipsed to the door, and you knew that Monroe and Buren were right underfoot; they always were. You could hardly walk anywhere without the risk of smushing a kitten. You really needed to get started on adopting these fellas out, but something about being the crazy widowed cat lady at the end of the hall seemed to suit you. The knock came again, harder, threatening to bust the door in two, and you huffed in annoyance. “I said I’m coming!”

You opened the door and pushed Monroe and Buren away with your foot. Little escape artists, they were. “Can I help you?” you asked, looking up to the man that stood there.

He was familiar, but so distant. He had long, dark hair tied back, wrinkles around his eyes from exhaustion, dark hair around his mouth. He was all muscle underneath a buttoned shirt, and your eyes canvassed the weird shining metallic sleeve over his left arm. His mouth was slightly open as he looked at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Hello?” you asked, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Do you need anything?”

“Y/N…” he started, and your body ran cold. “It… It’s you.”

You quickly set Jefferson on the floor, and you closed the door behind you to prevent kittens from spilling into the hall. “James?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You… Are you real?”

Bucky laughed lightly, and he took your hand. He looked down at it, still wearing your rings, and he laughed again. “Oh, dollface,” he whispered, and he put his hands on your face. You flinched away from the sting against your cheek, and Bucky quickly pulled his left hand away. “You’re as pretty as the day I left you.”

“Buck…” you said softly. “I can’t even begin to… How? I was told that you… You died, Bucky. How are you here?”

“I’ll tell you, doll,” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Bucky looked around the apartment as he stepped in, his eyes skating in wonderment. “Looks the same,” he said softly.

“I couldn’t bear to change it too much,” you said softly. “Oh, umm, the white cat’s named Alpine, and all the others…” You gestured to the kittens littered around the room. “Jefferson, Monroe, Buren, Polk, and Pierce… I can’t tell them apart, really. Jefferson is the energetic one, and Monroe and Buren are always underfoot, but the rest--”

Bucky kissed you. You melted into his body, the way you always had, and you tugged him close by his hair and kissed back. You had missed him. Seven years was a hell of a long time to miss someone. You had almost forgotten the feel of his body against yours. He smelled just like himself, sounded like himself, and looked like himself (maybe a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, actually). “Bucky,” you whispered, and his arm went around your waist and pulled you against him even closer. His touch and grip was rougher than before, but that was war, you supposed. “Bucky, I just--”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, doll. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t need an excuse, love,” you told him. You had forgotten the way he looked at you, his blue eyes gazing at you like you had fixed the stars in his likeness, and you felt like the silly little girl back in high school who had a crush on a senior. “I don’t need anything.”

“Just me,” Bucky whispered.

“Just you,” you agreed. You sighed and kissed him again, and your heart swelled. Your Bucky was finally home. “Actually, I do wanna know about--”

“The arm?” Bucky asked.

“The hair,” you finished, twirling a dark strand around your finger. “But, yeah, I’m curious about the arm too.”

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed.

“‘Long’ as in ‘there’s a lot of moving parts’?” you asked.

“‘Long’ as in ‘I’ve waited for 81 years to get you back’,” Bucky said, and he pushed your hair behind your ear with a deft metal finger. “‘Long’ as in ‘I was kidnapped by Nazis and frozen for decades’. ‘Long’ as in I traveled back in time to get you’. ‘Long’ as in… Just fucking long, doll. It’s gonna take me a while to tell the story.”

Your mind was whirling, and you pulled him down to the couch. “So, you fought Nazis and time to get to me?”

Bucky shrugged slowly. “I mean, that’s a vast oversimplification, but, essentially, yeah.”

You smiled. “You’re gonna need to explain this real slow,” you laughed. “I’ve never been as smart as you.”

The smile that you had coveted for years was back. “You’re selling yourself short there,” Bucky said. “You’re the best girl I know. You’re my best girl, ya know that? The only girl I’ve ever wanted.”

After years of crying tears of sorrow, your tears were of happiness. You were smiling and laughing, kissing Bucky and tasting his own salty tears. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered.

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked.

You nodded. “Of course. Your favorite: vanilla sponge.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #avengers #marvel #angst

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

Just Right (2)

Part 1

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!plussized!reader

Chapter Summary: As he gets trained Angel starts feeling feelings.

Chapter Warning: Fluff, smut

A/N: Again shoutout to @starrynite7114 for being a wonderful friend, sounding board, and muse. Thank you girlie 😘

A/N (2): Since I got a chapter left, I’m gonna post one chapter a day.

If you want to check out more of my work here’s my masterlist and if you want to be notified here’s my taglist.

Divider Cred: @firefly-graphics

Photo Cred: @blessedboo

Angel was wrong and you were right. He hated you. While he was dying from the suicides you made him do you were standing there eating a taco and drinking water.

“Ain’t that enough?” Angel looked up at you during his break. “Nah, you’re gonna keep running until I feel skinny.” You took another bite of the taco.

“You’re fucking evil.” He lifted himself up for the next round torture. “I mean you could always use the safe word.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Angel glared at you for your suggestion. He promised himself he would never speak Adelita’s name again and that’s why he decided to use it as his safe word during training. That way he wouldn’t give up. “Fuck no!” He shivered and started running again.

That’s exactly how training went for weeks. You push Angel until he voiced his hatred for you and then you pushed him some more. But in the evenings, you were each other’s company except for the occasional appearance by his brother and dad.

During this time Angel got to appreciate you more. You were attractive, funny, smart, and kind. How in the hell did he not see that before?

He was down in his garage working on his bike when you entered. “I always wanted to know what was in here.”

Angel shifted his gaze from his bike to you. He had to hold back a groan. Dressed in an oversized T-shirt of his team and shorts, a messy bun and your glasses with a plate of cookies in your hand you looked delectable. Again, he questioned himself on how Adelita was the one to capture his attention when you were right there all along.

“Ummmmm…cars.”

“Okay, smartass.” You chuckled as you rounded the corner. There you found Angel crouched on the ground working on a motorcycle. You weren’t able to see it earlier due to one of his cars blocking it. “Oh my god,” your fingers caressed the vehicle. “I didn’t know you had a bike.”

This wasn’t something Angel was used to. None of the women he dealt with including Adelita shared an interest in it. “Yeah, she’s my pride and joy.”

Finally standing up you got to enjoy Angel’s shirtless body. Yeah, he’s worked out shirtless before and you had to keep your composure then, but this, this was different. Maybe it had to do with him working with his hands or maybe it was because of his low-slung jeans that hugged his hips. Either way you were a mess.

Taking a deep breath, you purged your mind of any dirty thoughts of Angel Reyes. “Dude, you gotta take me for a ride.”

“Yeah?” Angel smiled at you, while wiping the grease off his hands. No matter how hard he asked, Adelita never agreed to ride with him, but here comes you and you’re practically begging him.

“Hell yeah! I mean I do have a fear of wiping out so I’m gonna be clutching hella hard.” Having your own bike was too nerve-wracking for you, so you settled for riding with someone, but the fear was still there.

“Don’t worry,” Angel lifted your chin and then stole a cookie from the plate. “I wouldn’t mind your arms wrapped around me.”

Your cheeks heated up. Every now and then Angel would make these types of comments, leaving you in a ditzy state. You have to convince yourself that that’s just how he is. From his interviews you could tell Angel was naturally flirtatious and charismatic.

Clearing your throat, you decided to change the subject. “So, what are you doing up this late? Don’t you have a game to rest for?”

Angel scratched the back of his head and knelt down to start working on his bike again. “Yeah, it’s just,” Angel threw his head back and let out a deep exhale. “What if I’m not ready? What if my knee gives out?”

Your heart cried out for Angel. Setting down the plate, you crouched down next to Angel and lifted his chin. “It won’t. I cleared you, the team doctor cleared you, and Coach Losa cleared you. You gotta trust the process, you gotta trust yourself.”

Angel tucked some stray hair behind your ear. “You’re amazing you know that, right? Practically a saint. Saint Y/N.”

“Oh no no no. I’m far from a saint.”

“Oh, so you’re one of them girls?” Angel arched his eyebrows suggestively.

You swatted Angel’s hands away. “No, I am not! I’m a good girl.”

Angel’s chocolate eyes darkened as his voice got deeper. “I know you’re a good girl.”

Your thighs clenched at his words. Now all you could think about is Angel on top of you calling you a good girl while he’s giving you that pipe.

“Anyway, why are you over here so late? Don’t you have a roster of men to be hitting up and making to take you out?” Angel knew you were single or at least he hoped you were. Every weekend you were here or with your parents and unlike everyone else your nose wasn’t stuck in your phone.

“Boy, I am single as Pringle.”

“Why?” Angel just had to know. You were too perfect not to be worshipped.

“Umm,” your phone buzzed, and you pulled it out to see a text from Rio. Smiling you texted him back and put your phone away. “I guess I just haven’t found the one, as corny as it sounds.”

He shouldn’t pry. It’s none of his damn business, but it was eating up at him as soon as he saw you smiling into your phone. “Who was that?”

“Oh, just Rio.” You threw out like nothing.

Of all the names, Angel didn’t expect that one. Turning away from you, Angel continued working on his bike, giving you the cold shoulder. “It’s getting late. You should go to bed and talk to Rio.”

The switch up was dizzying. One moment Angel was warm and soft and the next he was cold and hard. You just knew that it was best to leave him to sort out his feelings alone. “Well, I leave the cookies there if you want some more. Good night,” you said softly, feeling hurt.

When Angel heard the door closed, he kicked his toolbox across the room. Leave it to him to hurt the one person whose been by his side the whole time. “Way to go, Reyes.” Angel palmed his forehead, already thinking of a way to apologize.

Angel’s first game back was nerve wracking. He was playing safe, not trusting his knee fully. If he didn’t get it together right now his team would lose and be out the playoffs. “Hermosa, you gotta talk to him.” Bishop pleaded with you.

Hopping down from the stands you sat next to Angel on the bench. Feeling you next to him, Angel slid down to get away from you, but you just followed him to the end of the bench. “You go any further and you’re gonna end up on your ass.”

“Can’t you take a hint and go away?”

“Aww, someone’s cranky.” You pinched Angel’s cheek and he slapped your hands away. “Don’t be doing that shit on national tv.” Flicking his ear, you whispered in it. “Then stop acting like a fucking baby and do what needs to be done.”

Angel storms off from the bench and goes to the water cooler hoping to shake you, but you followed him anyway. “God, you’re like a fucking fly. So damn annoying.” Coco, Angel’s teammate and best friend was drinking his water when he heard Angel. He was about to defend you, but you held up your hand letting him know you got it.

Slapping the cup of water out of Angel’s hand you got in his space. “I’m not here to fucking coddle you, Reyes. I’m here to push you. You’re not a loser and I’m damn sure not a loser. So, what are you gonna do? Prove everyone else right and let your career go down in the drain or make the biggest comeback ever?”

The whistle blew signaling it was time for Angel to get back on the field. Angel kissed your cheek and snapped his helmet back on, running backwards to the field. “You know if the physical therapy thing doesn’t work out, you should ask coach about joining the coaching staff.” Rolling your eyes you flipped him the bird and he just laughed.

Bishop came up to you and put a headset on you. “Not the pep talk I was expecting, but it got the job done.” You nudge his shoulder and watched the team get a down. “What can I say? My mama ain’t raise no bitch.”

Bishop chuckled as the two of you watch Angel get the most yards he has in the entire game, making victory that much closer. He turned around and hugged you. “And maybe Angel is right. I might need you on my coaching staff.”

“Let’s get this W first and then we can talk about my salary.” You nudged Bishop’s shoulder.

There were 30 yards and one down left. They really needed a Hail Mary.

The whistle blew and for a moment you thought that Coco was about to get sacked, but the ball left his hands before they got to him. It was over. Coco overthrew the ball, there was no way Angel could catch it. You couldn’t watch this, it was making you too anxious. But then you heard the screams and you removed your fingers from your face. Angel caught the ball! He caught the freaking ball and was almost at the endzone with no one behind.

“AND THAT’S GAME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” The announcer informed over the intercom. “ANGEL REYES MAKES THE COMEBACK OF THE YEAR AND LEADS HIS TEAM TO THE GAME WINNING TOUCHDOWN AND TO THE PLAYOFFFS!”

Caught up in the commotion you were jumping around with the team on the sidelines, but suddenly you were lifted off the ground. “Oh my god, we did it!” Angel spun you around. “Don’t you mean you did it?” You giggled as Angel set you down on your feet. “Nah, mi dulce, we did it. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” Angel kissed you on the cheek, but then he was pulled away for a post-game interview.

Gilly came up to you and wrapped his sweaty arm around your shoulder. “Get ready?”

“For what?” You arched an eyebrow at him. “To become the hottest commodity in sports history.” Then he left to join his teammates, leaving you to contemplate the next step of your career.

After the game, Angel made you go out and celebrate with the team. He claimed you were just as important to their success, even though you insisted you had nothing to do with it.

Man, these dudes can drink. “Slow down, Angel. Its not off-season.” You took his beer and finished it for him. Angel just sat back and smiled at you. “You’re right, let’s go.”

“Let me go to the restroom real quick.” You hopped up and ran to the ladies’ room. His friends gave him knowing smirks. “Cut it out.” He pointed to them.

“Nah, its not like that. We’re proud of you ‘mano. She’s a good one.” Coco smiled as you came back up to the VIP section.

Angel couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you came up the stairs. The heels made your legs seem longer, the shorts made your ass look extra delectable, and the crop top bralette made it hard for him to keep his eyes off your cleavage. “Ready?”

“Yeah, lets go querida.” Angel took your hand and led you down the stairs to the rideshare pickup spot.

“You ordered the Uber yet?”

“Nah, I got something better.” He led you a couple of feet down to his motorcycle. “For real?” You squealed. “Yeah, I thought we go get some ice cream and then I’ll take you for a ride.”

Jumping up and down, you hugged Angel and kissed his cheek. “Oh my god, thank you! You’re the best!” Angel snapped the extra helmet on your head. “It’s the least you deserve. C’mon, hop on.”

Giddily you got on behind Angel, but you were tentative about wrapping your arms around him tightly. Already being pressed up against him was tantalizing enough. “You’re really gonna fall off if you hold onto me like that. Hold on tighter.” At his insistence, you followed his directions. “Good girl.” He said as he revved up his bike.

It was everything you wanted and more. The wind wiping through your hair, the zipping in and out of lanes, and the vibration of the bike underneath you.

Once, Angel got the ice cream, he took you to his favorite spot in the city. It was the biggest hill overlooking the city and also a well-known makeout spot for kids.

“Cloud 9, huh?” You lifted your eyebrow to him as you went to sit on the big rock out there. “Don’t think you’re gonna get lucky mister.” Angel chuckled and lifted his hands in surrender. “Never. My attentions are pure. Its all in my name.”

Kissing your teeth, you lightly shoved him. “Boy, you are far from an Angel according to the blogs.”

“What do the blogs say?” He asked lowly, taking his ice cream cup from you. “According to them you are exceptionally blessed and your tongue isn’t just used for talking.” Angel had a shit-eating grin, but you just had to wipe it off his face. “But I think its all bullshit.” You smiled at his dropped jaw and wiggled in your seat to celebrate for catching him off-guard.

Angel invaded your space and whispered against your skin. “You could always find out for yourself.” Nervously, you began laughing and mushed Angel in his face. He had to be joking.

Sensing your uneasiness, Angel changed the topic. “So, all this time together and I’ve never asked you how you got into physical therapy.”

“Oh, easy! My dad was a war vet and on his last tour he got seriously injured. Man, when I found out I buried my head in books looking for a treatment plan. His PT asked me more than once if I wanted his job. And the rest was history and now I’m working at the VA.”

“Wow, you sure you’re not the angel?” Could you get any better, he thought. Opposite of Adelita, your kindness didn’t come with stipulations. You gave with expecting nothing in return.

“Mmm, maybe,” you stretched out your body and yawned. “Sleepy, cariño?” He brushed back some of your hair. “Noooo,” you yawned out.

Angel took your ice cream cup and threw it in the trash. “Yes, you are, sleepyhead. Let’s go home.” You allowed Angel to move your body however he pleased. The tiredness was already seeping throughout your body. “Hold on tight. I’ll have us home in no time.”

Racing down the street Angel got you home quickly, though you weren’t as tired as you were earlier. The wind whipping you in the face woke you up some more.

“Thank you for tonight, Angel. Everything was perfect.” You didn’t know if it was the sleepiness, the alcohol, or just the heat of the moment, but whatever it was it led you to kiss Angel. It only lasted for a couple of seconds but as soon as you tried to back away he pulled you back in for a much longer, much more passionate kiss. “Come to bed with me,” he sorta asked, sorta ordered you once he let you up for air.

You nodded at him and he picked you up. “Angel, put me down! You’re gonna hurt yourself going up these stairs while carrying me.” Angel stopped mid-stride and tilted your chin to get a good look at you. “I don’t know what type of dudes you messed with before, but I ain’t them. I can handle of this,” he smacked your backside making you yelp. “Entiendes?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, nuzzling your face in his neck. Angel finished his trek to his room and laid you on his bed. Leaning back on you elbows, you appreciated Angel’s look for the night. He wore a simple black tee with ripped black jeans, but the pièce de resistance was his chain. There was something about it that made you hungrier for him. “Keep the chain on,” you meekly ordered him while he was taking off his clothes.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he crawled over your body. “Yeah? You like it?” You nodded your head and bent down to kiss you while his hands slithered to your shorts to undo them. His fingers slid down your panties and right into your weeping core. “Shit, this all for me baby?”

“Yesss,” you mewled, your legs already thrashing against the bed. “How long has it been, querida? It’s a struggle to get two fingers in.”

You shook your head no, too embarrassed to tell him the truth. “Tell me.” He nipped at your chin. “Or you don’t get to cum and I wanna make you cum, pretty baby.” Angel stopped his fingers, even though he desperately wanted to continue.

“Please Angel,” you ran your fingers up and down his back. “Nah, baby. You gotta tell me first,” he kissed your pulse point. “Alright, you huffed, “three years.”

“See it wasn’t that hard.” Angel began his ministrations again. “We got three years to make up for.” The rough pad of his thumb found your clit and he began rubbing little circles.

“Angel.” You cried out and held onto his wrist. “God, you’re beautiful. You think you can handle another finger?”

It slipped out before you noticed. “Yes daddy.” Angel eyes darkened and he crashed his lips into yours, swallowing your cries. “Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight. Daddy’s gonna fuck this little pussy up.”

The delicious stretch from his fingers and the never ending assault on your clit had you on cloud nine. “Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, circling your hips. “Cum then.” Angel pressed all three fingers against your walls, triggering a white hit explosion you never felt in your entire life.

“Suck ‘em.” Angel tapped his fingers against your lips. Opening them up, you took them in your mouth catching a hint of metal due to his rings. You swore you tasted better on his fingers than on yours.

“Take off your top.” As you did what Angel said, he slid your shorts and panties off. While he took off your heels, he kissed the inside of your ankle. “I can’t wait to have this dangling in the air.” He fingered your anklet.

Pushing your knees to your chest, Angel slid down your body. He took a deep inhale of your pussy, committing your scent to memory.

The first lick was a little tentative, like he was sampling the goods first . But after a couple more swipes, he had your whole clit in his mouth making you go crazy. “Mi dulce, you just became my favorite meal.”

The combination of Angel’s tongue on your bundle of nerves and his fingers sliding in and out of you was maddening. “Oh no, not another one.” You said to no one in particular. Angel chuckled with your clit still in his mouth. “Oh yes, another one.”

Grabbing onto his raven locks, you tried to pull him up, but he hunkered down instead, Angel wrapped his hands around your hips and pinned you down, diving deeper into your folds. “Fuck Angel! I’m I’m I’m,” it felt like a dam broke as your orgasm overcame you.

Then the damn demon wouldn’t let you go. Angel continued to eat you out even though you already came and was beating down on his back.

Finally Angel came back up for some air and the sight before you was beautiful. His beard was glistening all because of you. Your essence was dripping all over his beard.

“Give me a taste, daddy.” You ordered Angel, crooking your finger. “As you wish.” Angel came up and kissed you. Your tongue swiped at the seam of his mouth. Angel complied with your silent order and opened his mouth, where you and him fought for dominance.

Keeping Angel focused, your hands traveled to his boxers, setting his dick free. “Oh my!” Just from the feel of it, you could tell Angel was hung. Guess those blogs were right. “Are you gonna fit, daddy?”

Angel laughed and reached out for a condom. Slipping on the condom, Angel tapped his dick against your clique. “Ohh, he’s gonna fit.”

Feeling confident that he gathered enough lubrication to slide in. “Fuck, mami, you’re tight.” Angel bent down to swallow your whimpers. As hard as it was for him not to cum, the pain had to be worse for you.

“I’m not hurting you, am I baby?” Angel didn’t dare to begin to move once he was fully seated. “No. I need you to give it to me, Angel.”

Angel pecked your lips and sat up on his arms with his hands on your hips. “This pussy is mines now! You ain’t going nowhere after this.”

He began brutally snapping his hips into yours while singing your praises. ‘Cum on my cock, pretty baby.’ ‘You make the cutest sounds while I’m beating this pretty pussy up.’ ‘You look so beautiful coming on my dick.’

Angel intertwined his fingers with yours and nipped at your lips. “Angel please let me cum.” He took your bottom lip and dragged it it in between his teeth. “Not until you tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Mines,” you gasped as he hit a new spot. “I knew there was a little brat in there.” Angel wrapped his free hand around your throat. His cool rings starkly contrasted the heat emitting from your body. “You like that shit, huh?” Angel commented when he felt you clench around him after he put his hand on your neck.

“Whose. Pussy. Is. This?” Angel growled, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust. “Damn it, yours Angel! It’s all yours!” You scratched down his back.

“Damn right it is,” he bit on your shoulder. “Cum on daddy’s dick, pretty girl.”

Throwing your head back, arching your back you let the orgasm wash over you. “Angel,” you screamed clutching onto him. “I’m right here, baby.” He kissed you all over face, letting you know he was right there with you.

“Shit,” Angel groaned, his strokes began to get sloppy. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth.” You just had to get a taste of him, especially since he already knew what you tasted like.

Quickly both of you got off the bed. You on your knees and Angel hovering over you. Throwing the condom off, he began stroking his veiny masterpiece he called a dick. “You’re gonna look so pretty with my cum all over your face.” Angel stroked your cheek lovingly like he wasn’t just about to paint your face with his load.

Out of nowhere, you got jealous of Angel’s hand and instead of letting him jerk himself off to completion, you wrapped your mouth around his dick. “Oh shit,” Angel moaned, throwing his head back. “Keep sucking Daddy’s dick like that.” He buried his hands in your hair as he tried his hardest not to fuck your face.

“Aww fuck, I’m gonna, I’m gonna, shit!” Angel exploded in your mouth, making you take every drop. But you didn’t stop after that, you kept sucking and swiping across his tip. Angel had to push your head back to get you to stop. “Think that’s funny?”

Wiping the corners of your mouth you smiled up at him. “Yeah.”

“Nasty bitch,” Angel pulled you up by the hair and kissed you, loving the taste of himself on your tongue. “So, did I live up to the blogs?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I need to conduct further research.” Angel pushed you back onto the bed. “That can be arranged.” He smiled as he climbed back on top of you to ensure he blew past your expectations.

Tagging: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jassydwill11 @otomefromtheheart @miss-nori85 @xsweetdellzx @cherryblossomgirl20 @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @sesamepancakes @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen @vsfavs @woahitslucyylu @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @marvelmaree @ifoundmyhappythought

#black!reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x black!plussized!reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #frizzlewrites

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 10- Salve

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for brief mention of background character death and description of unprotected sex

Masterlist

“The first person I ever loved was named Kiyomi.”

It’s certainly not how you expected Hawks to start this conversation but it had taken nearly half an hour of him pacing for him to sit down next to you on the bed and spit out even that much so you decide to just let him talk.

“I was 18, fresh onto the hero scene and still in that post-debut hustle trying to prove myself. She was a college student. She told me that we’d make it till she graduates. I told her heroism would be worth the wait but she wanted me in an office with a 9-5. We didn’t last. The next girl I fell in love with was Yua. I thought it’d be better because she was a hero too so she’d understand, but before I could ask her out she died in a villain attack. Then there was this one girl with an attitude I met on a mission up north. We never told anyone we were together and in the end we both had way better things to do so we didn’t last long, but I always think about her when I’m in the area.”

“Hawks why are you telling me all this?” you finally ask, starting to get impatient for him to reach the point. You didn’t relish in hearing about his past lovers even if you figured he was telling you for a reason.

“I’m getting to the point I promise. The last one before you was Mirko. I loved her but I lost her because as great as things were going she wanted more time from me and I loved work more than I did her. But when I met you? Fuck (y/n) it was like every single person before you was suddenly meaningless. That night at the gala I was looking for Mirko but the moment I laid eyes on you I forgot all about her. You are genuinely the first person I’ve ever loved more than anything else and I’m sorry I hurt you baby, I am. It’s not that I don’t love you, I’m just bad at love,” he finally finishes.

“If you’re so bad at love then why are you here right now?” You ask. “Can you blame me for trying to be better? Look I could lie and say you’re the one that will finally fix me but the truth is I don’t know, ok? I just know that I want you to be. I want so badly for you to be. Can’t that be enough?” he asks, no pleads, of you and it breaks your heart. “It’s not my job to fix you Hawks. Especially when I’ve got my hands full keeping my career from going to shit,” you reply. “You’re right. Fuck, sorry, you’re right that’s not what I meant. I just...,” he sighs running frustrated fingers through his hair before turning back to you again with a desperate but determined look in his eyes. “For the first time I don’t want to be resigned to being bad at this. I’m asking for patience and a second chance,” he clarifies. “I’m scared,” you finally admit and immediately Hawks is kneeling in front of you, his hands gently cradling either side of your face as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “I know that you’re afraid I’m gonna walk away again but I won’t. I swear to you I won’t,” he promises and his eyes are so full of conviction that your resolve finally crumbles. There’s no denying how genuine he is in this moment and you are so, so tired of hurting him. So you let go of the anger and the hurt you’ve been clinging to for dear life since the moment you read that damned article. “I believe you Keigo,” you confess and it’s one less weight on your shoulders.

You’re shocked at the desperation with which Keigo surges up to press his mouth to yours, his once gentle grip tightening possessively. He pulls away just a bit, his forehead still pressed to yours. You’re both out of breath and panting already and you’re about to close the distance between the two of you again but Keigo pulls away. You whine your disagreement as your hands go to his shirt to try and pull him back into you but he insists. “Say it again,” he commands, his voice shaking. “What?” you ask dazed. “I need to hear you say it again. Please.” “I believe you Keigo.” “Again.” “I believe you Keigo.” “I love you. I’m so sorry.” “I love you too.”

Finally his hands move to your waist, slipping underneath your shirt to find bare skin, and it’s like cool salve on a burn. You hadn’t even realized how deeply you’d ached for him all this time until he was laying you down against the bed. His body baring down on you as he presses you into the mattress. Your lips connect again and all you can think is that you need more of him. You open your mouth in an invitation he gladly accepts to slide his tongue in and tangle it with yours. The kiss lacks finesse, it’s probably the sloppiest the two of you have exchanged, but now is not the time for gentle, tantalizing skill. Not when the two of you have been denying each other all this time. The two of you separate only for brief intervals in order to shed clothing and underwear until there’s nothing left keeping you apart. Finally, finally it’s just skin on skin, your hearts pounding in your chests as if trying to escape and finally be together. “Need you,” you murmur against his lips and he immediately nods, his yearning for you just as overwhelming as yours for him. He presses his throbbing erection into your tight, wet heat so slowly and carefully as if you might break. Or perhaps more accurately as if you might disappear. You realize that every kiss, every touch, every movement he’s made has carried an element of disbelief, as if he cannot fathom that he’s finally with you like this again. By the time he’s fully seated inside you Keigo is absolutely trembling. The two of you stay like that for awhile, just breathing each other in, appreciating the intimacy of being so connected. One of your hands caresses Keigo’s cheek. “Baby why are you shaking?” you ask, even though you’re afraid of the answer. “I just thought I’d never have this again,” he confesses. “I’m so sorry Kei,” you whisper but he shakes his head. “I deserved it.” “No you didn’t. Not all of it.” “I’m the reason everything’s fucked now.” “Faced with Endeavor and the evidence you had, I probably would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position. And the paparazzi stuff I played a part in too.” “But I hurt you.” “And then I hurt you right back.”

It’s quiet for a moment as the two of you let the words hang in the air. You expected the admission to feel heavy but you actually feel the lightest you have in weeks. “We really are a mess aren’t we?” you finally chuckle with a slight shake of your head. “I’d rather be a mess with you than perfect with anyone else,” he swears. “That’s a bit corny isn’t it?” you tease. “Oh absolutely. But I mean every word of it,” he replies easily before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. It doesn’t take long for it to become heated again. “I’m gonna need you to start moving baby,” you whisper into his ear as one of your hands drifts to the base of his wings to spur him on. “Shit Love, well I guess if you need me that bad,” he smirks but a quick tug on his feathers has him hissing instead. He gives a quick roll of his hips in retaliation before starting to move in and out of you in earnest. God how you’ve missed this, missed him. For the first time since everything went to shit you’re not worrying about your career or All Might or the press or anything else. With each languid thrust, each muttered curse, each lust-filled moan, Keigo cleanses you of the worries and anxieties that have haunted your every waking moment. In him you find relief and bliss and ecstasy, such sweet ecstasy. When the two of you reach your climaxes your moans sound more like sobs as you cling tightly onto each other, scared to let go and risk discovering this was all a dream.

When you both come down from your highs Keigo doesn’t let go, just cuddles you close to him and let’s his feathers tuck you both into your bed. “Do you have any other plans for tonight?” he asks. You shake your head no as you bury yourself closer against him. “Good,” he responds before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Hours pass the two of you by as you simply hold onto each other, barely speaking, just reveling in each other’s company. You don’t even notice yourself drifting off to sleep, it’s just one moment you’re listening to the quiet sounds of Keigo’s breathing and the next you’re slipping into the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You wake up to the sound of Keigo’s alarm. He shuts it off quickly but makes no move to extricate himself from your hold or otherwise get out of bed. “You gonna get up and go to work?” you ask. “Don’t really want to,” he sighs, “I’d rather stay in here with just us.” “We can’t stay in here forever,” you point out. “You sure about that? It sounds infinitely more appealing than dealing with Monoma this early in the morning,” he groans. “Believe me I wish we could too, but you have terrorists to catch and I’ve got people to save so,” you gently remind him. “Five more minutes?” “Fine, five more minutes.”

Five minutes passes by all too quickly and soon the two of you are forcing yourselves out of bed. It’s oddly reminiscent of that first night together. Both of you getting redressed without nearly the urgency you should. Both of you ignoring the dread building at the thought of stepping out of the little bubble you had created. Once you’re both dressed and ready you link hands again and step out of your room. Almost immediately you feel the weight of your responsibilities land heavily on your shoulders once again. The two of you move through the apartment to your front door and it feels like that crossroads moment in the hallway when both of you had run opposite directions without so much as getting a name. You hope he’ll understand why you’re going to once again choose to part ways. “You go on ahead Love, I think I’m going to wait to head to the office until closer to my shift,” you tell Hawks as you hesitate in the doorway. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m sure. You go ahead though, tell the others I say hi,” you insist. He gives you a worried look but agrees, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving. “Looks like you two are doing better,” a voice comments behind you. You turn around to find your new roommate standing watching you as he eats cereal out of a bowl nonchalantly. “I’m gonna be honest I have already forgotten your name again,” you confess. “Denki.” “Right, Denki. Thanks I guess.” “You’re welcome. Why didn’t you go with him to work?” “All of my coworkers except for the ones who will be busy working with him think I’m a traitorous slut.” “Yikes.” “Yea.” “Anyway I can help?” “You could make me breakfast to make up for picking the lock on my door.” “Fair enough.”

Author’s Note: This was difficult to write tbh because the content from the song it’s based on tapped out pretty quickly and I needed to figure out narratively where else it needed to go, especially considering what’s coming down the pipeline. I hope the result was satisfying and you guys enjoy it though

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

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jiikyu · 3 years

Text

Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter IV. Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Violence and uh Fluff? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here ❦

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ “Oh hey!” Mirios leans his arm against the doors frame. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise.” “Hey, do you wanna come to Nabezos with me?” Your question takes him by surprise and he feels his arm slipping. It’s raining. “Sure, let me grab my jacket.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The little droplets from above mean the sidewalks are clear of people, it’s not often you practically get the city all to yourself. When Mirio agreed to come with you to the popular restaurant off campus grounds, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t like you to swing by unexpectedly, at least not without some form of prior acknowledgement. Like a text. What’s even stranger was that you wanted to go to Nabezos, in the rain. Maybe it’s nothing to be get riled up over... The conversation flows in it’s usual lighthearted manor with you both throwing in the occasional jab. It’s normal. But if that’s truly the case then — Why won’t his heart stop hammering violently against his ribs? Somethings not right. He just knows it. Mirios pace starts to slow to a crawl, and little by little it all together stops. And you had been so close to making it to Nabezos, maybe two blocks down the sidewalk? Suddenly his appetite is gone. When there’s no respond to your corny joke do you turn to see the blond fallen behind. Everything about it feels so very wrong. Standing like motionless his yellow umbrella rests loosely in his grasp, shoulders slouching forward. But — You catch sight of something that freezes the blood in your veins. Tears threaten to spill from those blue pools. How had this happened? Only a few seconds ago were you chatting like normal. This proves all of your fears and suspicions, that there is something deep troubling Mirio. That’s why you were doing this right? You were going to do your best to gently coax out whatever was bothering him. Had you already messed up? The gap made between you wasn’t large by any means but by gods do you close it fast. Abandoning your umbrella to ground below as shoes splash against the wet pavement, now your standing before him in the rain. “Wait Mirio what’s happening? Why are you crying?” “Y/N...” His voice has been reduced to a rasp whisper, the usual optimism drained and you can see the bottom of the well. “Are you leaving?” Huh? The question confuses you even further. That cannot be the root of the problem, a small idle conversation between you and your friend could not have been the cause of this. “What? Of course not!” As much as you want to stay in Musutafu — Your words are not quite the full truth, are they? “Well I... I don’t actually know yet.” Do not make promises you cannot keep. The way he kneads his lip with his teeth, suffocating any sound from escaping, it does nothing but further shatter your heart into tiny fragments. If this continues you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together. You’re about to speak again when the blond does the unexpected. Taking a deep breath he exhales, then the corners of his mouth upturn. It is nowhere near as radiant as his signature smile, and you know it’s not real. But now it’s his turn to close the gap. Taking the step forward Mirio dips the yellow umbrella so it no longer hangs over his head but yours. The thrumming of his heart drums against his ears, he’s sure you hear it too. “Y/N, what if I told you I don’t want you to go?” Oh. Wait? Does that mean? Oh. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “I —“ The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the umbrellas canvas matches your own heartbeat. Fast and light, like suddenly you’re floating. You watch the collar of his gray gym shirt start to darken with moisture and droplets catching in that sunshine soaked hair. You swallow down your shame because — You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. “I would say, I feel the same.” You’ve never seen someone visibly light up the way Mirio does when those words leave your lips. The very words he oh so desperately needed to hear. Was that all it really took? No, he must be dreaming. “Really?” The single word is laced with so much hope it’s palpable, it’s followed by a sniffle as he brings his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Of course idiot!” Your own eyes start to blur and you blink them away before it’s too late. “Now stop it, you’re gonna make me cry!” Your fingers grab a hold of the umbrellas metal handle, just above Mirios hand. You push it towards him, so it’s no longer covering only you. “There, now we can both stand under it.” Sure, both of you have a shoulder that’s going to get absolutely drenched, but do you care? No. Mirios eyes go big when you do this and you swear you see literal stars dancing in those pools of blue. You’re so blissfully unaware that everything you’re doing only furthers you both down this spiral. He’s staring at you like you’re his entire world. And he wouldn’t change a single thing about you, for anything. “Aw you’re such a softy Y/N.” “Wha — You were crying first! You started it.” It’s not fair. He really does have the most contagious smile you’ve ever seen. Hand in hand you and Mirio continue to make your way to Nabezos, your own umbrella is left forgotten to the rain. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Dinner had gone so well that you’re left giddy and boy, does it show, your smile never once falters. Not even when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol starts to overflow your senses. Currently you’re leaning against the outside of Nabezos, the buildings bricks now having imprinted into your back. Awning overhang keeps you dry from the rain while your eyes stay trained to the bright screen of your phone. Sun having started its descent the color slowly begins to fade from the sky. But you’re not worried, campus is only a few blocks away.

And you have Mirio.

Now you’re just wait on him, who, being the forgetful man he is forgot his wallet at the table you had eaten at. Never in a million years would you believe someone as breathtaking as Mirio would return your feelings.

Your happiness leaves you blind to the world.

“Hey are you d-deaf or do you just think it’s cute to ignore someone talking to you?”

Huh? Only when you look up from your phone do you realize there’s a man, who you don’t recognize, staring directly at you. Your mouth is suddenly dry. The stench of booze and smoke is so strong your nose is set ablaze. You can’t help but take shallow breaths. When had he gotten so close? Were you really that oblivious to your surroundings? Your pulse is racing but you don’t move, maybe if you continue to ignore him he’ll leave you be. What a stupid idea. Suddenly your wrist is grabbed, phone slipping from your grasp and it falls to the pavement. And now you’re trying desperately to yank yourself from of his grasp. But his fingers have an iron clad grasp around your limb. “What sort of game are you trying to play?” He’s shouting at you and you have no idea what he’s going on about, you just want to get as far away from him as possible. Your eyes barely catch the flash of yellow that appears over the drunks shoulder and before you know it he’s no longer holding onto your wrist — Or rather he was flung off you by an impact to the gut. The stranger lets out a cry as his back slams against the hard concrete below. You listen to him cough and sputter for air, but you don’t look — Your eyes stay glued to your savior. Mirio. Besides the loud grunting coming from the man who just got his guts rearranged, it’s eerily silent. You cannot see the blonds face, so you can only guess what expression he wears... But something feels off and that scares you. You finally tear your eyes away from Mirio when you hear the other stand. The stranger regained his footing but why isn’t he running away? Isn’t it enough? Mirio hasn’t moved an inch since landing the first strike, standing between you and the man. A shield. Neither move for a while, just staring each other down and you can see the sweat beading down the strangers face. You never would have expected Mirio to be the one to break the stalemate. Basically just straight up breaking into full sprint towards the stranger before banking a quick left. “Oh shit —“ Is all the man manages while raising his right arm, taking shaky aim at the blond, some sort of liquid ejects from his fingertips? Mirio makes it look so incredibly easy to dodge, the inky black substance lands somewhere in the shadows. Forgotten. The man does not get a second shot. An earth shattering blow lands under his chin and you swear you hear an echoing crack of bone against bone. And just like that it’s over — Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Anyone would be knocked unconscious by the sheer force. But Mirio doesn’t stop. What if I told you I don’t want you to go? Those are the words that come to mind as your E/C eyes follow Mirios fist. Over and over again it connects with the strangers face. Time slows like some form of torture, you watch the man take each crushing blow. As you watch the blonds knuckles begin to turn a dark crimson. And you do nothing but stand frozen, a bystander, a participant. Even the ability to speak is lost to you. Only when the terrible sound of blood starts to bubble up from the man’s throat does Mirio finally release his white-knuckled grip from the shirts collar. Without the Alphas hold the unconscious body rag-dolls to the pavement below. God, does the sickening thud make you shudder in disgust. Now it’s just you — And the man who has only ever showered you with warmth and overbearing kindness. Towering over the bloody pulp of a man he stands with his back towards you, chest heaving as he attempts to recapture his breathing. Your mind is so vary far away right now but somehow, somewhere in your anxiety riddled state are you able to produce a single cohesive repeating thought. It’s something that comes so naturally it almost terrifies you, you might even loath yourself later for it... You cannot help but be frightened, not for the beaten man lying against the cold pavement, no your fears are for Mirios safety. For his sake. When he turns to face you you’re met with the burning blue of the ocean. And within seconds you swear you see the raging sea already starting to simmer. Your feet stay planted as your hero takes the first step towards you. Even if your life depended on it you’re not sure you’d be able to move an inch — Though it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? By the time you notice he’s practically all over you, but there is an invisible wall of tension that keeps him from touching. With the back of your shoulders pressed against the brick wall there is no escape from the cage of muscle surrounding you, thick forearms having rooted themselves on either side of your head. Every instinct screams at you, to run, to submit, to hide, to do anything useful. Maybe you’re broken. Instead, you find yourself entranced, E/C eyes trace along the scars of those very forearms keeping you trapped. The healed skin darkened where deep gashes once bled. Following the perfect blemishes to the meat of his shoulders you accidentally meet deep iris pools, completely and utterly awestruck. The expression Mirio wears is one you’ve never seen before. You want to tell yourself that it’s the shadows casted down by the looming cities walls — Or that’s it’s just the dark clouds raining down on you. But... You’re having a difficult time convincing yourself. “Are you hurt?” A low breathless whisper pulls you from muddy waters, dredged up from the murky depths of your mind. Was that Mirios voice? He’s close, so close, his ragged breathes ghost across the bare skin of your neck. Your eyes fall to the filthy lot concrete, where you’re barely able to make out the motionless mans shape. Why is it so hard to see? You hadn’t even noticed your eyes gloss over, fat tears already rolling down your cheeks. “M-Mirio you —“ The pain in your voice has his chest twisting in agony. Sharp thorns digging into the delicate flesh. Seeing you like this hurts worse than the searing ache in his knuckles. But it’s okay. Because you’re safe. The thin threads holding him back finally fray and snap. Mirios arms abandon the wall behind you, pulling you flush against his broad chest, muscled arms wrapped around your frame. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” His head rests atop your own, you feel his lips move against your locks as he continues to reassure you. “I’ll always be here — I promise.” You won’t ever have to be worry again. Being held only makes the flood tears worse, when your body melts against his so does the last bit pf willpower holding the dam together. Slowly you begin to hiccup into his shirt, your arms shakily wrapping around his neck, falling further into the embrace you feel his arms tighten. And now your balling in a empty public restaurant parking lot with a bloody unconscious body only a few yards away. The dying rain isn’t strong enough to wash away the scent of copper. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Blinding red and blue lights flash across the cities walls. When you speak with the police — Well actually, it’s not so much you speaking with them as it is you listening to Mirio tell them the details of what happened and offering a weak nod when they wanted your input. You haven’t spoken much since exhausting your lungs and draining a lakes worth of tears onto Mirios shirt. His eyes keep darting to meet yours between every couple of words. You watch on as the blond speaks clearly and calmly with the officers, you envy his ability to do so. He’s even able to smile as if nothing happened — You finally tear your eyes away, choosing to look at a lone anthill, inches from your foot. The weight of his jacket keeps you semi-warm as you stand under the overhang of Nabezos, the smell of ocean and sun clings to the leather, you pull the fabric tighter around your shoulders. You had watched as three first responders wheeled the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. As soon as its doors slammed shut the siren blared to life and the vehicle sped away. It was a good sign you tell yourself. A sign that the man was alive. The invisible weight on your shoulder lifts, if only by a hair. “Do you need a ride home?” The question snaps you from staring at the pavement. A male officer, possibly a Beta? It’s hard to tell in the rain, he has kind eyes. There’s no time for you to search for an answer before a firm hand finds itself planted the deputies shoulder. Mirio now stands behind the rather startled man, all smiles of course. Though something about the curve of his lips doesn’t sit well with you. “That would be great actually, can you give the both of us a ride?” It takes you a second to realize he’s answering for you. “We’re both headed the same direction.” “Of c-course.” The officer shakes away his initial fright by the time he finishes speaking. And you still have yet to process what’s happening. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. But what you are sure of is that there isn’t an inch of you that doesn’t smell like the Alpha. He’s been scenting you ever since entering the vehicle, practically pulling you into his lap. It’s not so uncommon amongst friends — Although, you’re no longer just friends, are you? His hand could wrap around your wrist two times over. The blond has a delicate touch as he traces the pad of his thumb over your skin, he holds you as though you’re porcelain. The entire time your eyes are glued to the red busted skin of his knuckles. An uncomfortable clearing of a throat breaks the moment. You had almost forgotten about the police officer who so politely offered the ride home. You blame it on overactive instincts, that this is probably the norm, it’s a lousy excuse and you know it. And a part of you, one that you’re desperately trying to drown under the surface until there is no oxygen left, knows instincts are not the only thing at play here.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ When Mirio told you he’d be staying the night at your place you thought it had been an offer. Not a fact. You remind yourself that you know Mirio. Know that he would never hurt you, that he’s only looking out for you. That’s why you agreed.

So what if your every attempt to convince him you’d be fine staying alone was disregarded. Right?

You stare into the mirror, letting the sink fill with water. Paying no attention to the temperature you soak a hand towel into the ice cold liquid. Bringing the damp fabric under your eyes you wipe away the last remnants of tears marks. The soft knock on the door startles you from your haze, looking over you notice the shadow of what can only be a pair of feet peeking under the thin frame of wood. “Are you okay?” Mirios voice may be muffled behind the wood but it’s impossible to ignore the worry bled into every syllable. “Yeah.” Your own voice is still raspy from your crying, it reminds you how weak you truly are. “Just give me a few minutes... Okay?” “I’m here.” What you can’t see is the large hand pressed into the creases of door. “When you’re ready.” The outside noise seems to die down with that and you listen to the static of the running water as you strip out of your soaked clothing, peeling the wet material from your skin. The jacket that had kept you warm now hangs off the tubs edge. ... Mirio stands guarding the entrance of the restroom. Like a good boyfriend. Foot tapping nervously against the carpeted floor. This is all so new, usually the hero is in full control of his actions. But now — Every passing second is another nail plunged into his coffin, he might have really screwed up big time... And just when the two of you had finally become official. He doesn’t know what took over. But he does. When saw you cornered by some low life — He only remembers the feel of white hot burning rage coursing his veins and the look of terror in your eyes. He really dropped the ball hadn’t he? He doesn’t regret it. Not even for a second, he’d do it again, for you. His only regret is scaring you. Suddenly his foot stops its anxious drumming. It becomes apparent to him that — With you in the bathroom he has full range of your dorm, unsupervised. Not that he would do anything fishy, of course not! It’s just the first time he’ll get to appreciate your little temporary home.

A glimpse at the future you’ll share.

Waiting by the door for another minute he takes the first experimental step away from his post, waiting with bated breath. Nothing. The only sound is the continuous running of a faucet. It’s the only sign he needs to continue onwards, down the hallway. By all means it’s not a long journey, in only a few of feet does the blond find himself in front of a cracked door, a dim light streams through the gap. With a featherlight touch he pushes it open to reveal what he’d hoped for. Your bedroom. He’s not disappointed, the room is so very you. It smells like you. Even when Mirio’s absolutely drained he can’t help but admire every little detail, even down to the lone sock lying forgotten in the center of the floor. A tired smile makes its way to his lips as he goes to pick it up, tossing it in the hamper sitting only a few feet away, a smile resting pretty on his features all the while. How forgetful you were. He doesn’t mind this, in fact quite the opposite — He can’t help think it’s quite domestic. Who knew he’d windup such a hopeless romantic? Before the blond knows it he starts to wonder what living together would be like. It really can’t be helped.

Mirio can almost envision you seated at his table waiting while he cooks your favorite meal, it might take him a couple of tries to nail but he’s anything if not persistent — Or perhaps, waking up to morning kisses with your legs tangled in knots. Maybe one day a couple of children that share both your and his qualities pop into the picture. He understands how silly it is all is, that he can’t help but feel as though he’s already been living this life with you. Too bad it doesn’t last. The sweetest of daydreams are cut to shreds when blue eyes catch the unmistakable flash orange and white of a bottle. On your nightstand are your suppressants, sitting carelessly for all to see. After staring for what is probably considered far longer than normal a not so innocent thought just sort of floats its way into his system and... Suddenly Mirio’s being crushed under the weight of something tremendous and hideous. Guilt. He could never. Everything’s falling into place, just the way it’s meant to. But — Some stranger had basically gone and flipped his world upside down in the matter of seconds. That drunk bastard leaning in close you, probably whispering dirty words to you... His fist clenches into a tight ball, knuckles still burn from the impact of skin against skin. God only knows what that creep was gonna do? That filth had tried to take you from him, there is no mistaking. Was it some sort of cruel joke, turning the best day of his life into one of the worst? A bead of sweat breaks along his brow as blue eyes continue to stare down the bottle of white pills. Fear has got Mirio in a chokehold and right now it’s a losing battle. You are someone he wants — No, needs to protect, that’s why he can’t stop but think... What would he do without you? He doesn’t notice his fingers have started moving on their own volition. Mirio cannot picture a world without you.

#mirio x reader #yandere mirio #bnha mirio #yandere bnha #mywriting #SO EXCITED TO POST THIS YA'LL #it really should have been split in two but whatever #theres one☝️ chapter left this is ur warning☺️

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zwritestuff · 3 years

Note

okay but rosenali with 7 tho 👀👀👀 thank u ilu

Lets ignore this took me so long pls, I hope you like it bub!

7. The apartment is perfect and both Person A and Person B are desperate to move in, but then the landlord lets it slip that he is very conservative and only wants couples in a stable relationship living in his house, so maybe Person A and Person B have to act a little, so that they can both have a roof over their head.

Denali never meant to catch feelings for her best friend, it just happened.

It all started when they had the first meeting with the landlord of the place they wanted to rent, and while he seemed nice enough, it was more or less implied that he will only rent to people in stable relationships.

They could’ve kept looking, seen other places in the city—in a place like New York, there’s no way there weren’t more accessible apartments somewhere. But it just so happened that this was the perfect place; it was spacious enough, the rent was relatively cheap when split between two, it was near Denali and Rosé’s workplaces, and they allowed pets. They just couldn’t let it slide.

So, they put on their best faces, and told the landlord they had been together for four years, and were planning to get married as soon as they could afford a luxurious wedding. The man had smiled, saying he’d be happy to give them the apartment keys as soon as they signed the lease, and thus, their joint acting career began.

It was awkward at first, but now Denali doesn’t think twice before giving Rosé a kiss on the cheek as she waves goodbye to go to the rink, doesn’t bother correcting herself when she tells Donut to stop stealing her other mom’s shoes, or even thinks about correcting her mom when she calls her to check on her and her girlfriend.

Denali is well aware that the lines of friendship have been blurred long ago, having stepped into uncharted territory as soon as they lied to get this place, but now she’s too far gone to care.

“Dee, I’m home,” Rosé shouts, closing the door behind her, and Denali’s heart melts a little when Donut jumps from the couch to greet her.

“Hi honey,” she says softly, patting next to her on the couch. Rosé unceremoniously throws herself on the couch, putting her head on Denali’s shoulder, and Donut is quick to climb on their laps. “How was the audition?”

“Pretty good, Jan was auditioning for the same role, so that was… Something. I swear she wanted to push me down the stairs when I told her I was also aiming for Heather Chandler,” she tells her with a chuckle, and Denali laughs a tad too loud imagining it.

“Oh, fuck no, Jan won’t leave me a widow if I can help it,” Denali jokes, butting heads with Rosé.

Rosé is quiet for a moment, just stroking the back of Denali’s hand with her thumb, when she speaks, “Funny you say that, Jan said to me, ‘I won’t touch even if I want to, your girlfriend wears knives on her feet for a living,’ or something like that.” She looks away briefly, and Denali’s heart skips a beat when she notices the discreet blush spreading on Rosé’s cheeks.

It’s not uncommon for Rosé’s friends to call her “Rosé’s girlfriend,” and vice-versa, but it always makes her heart speed up. If only.

She laughs to not make it awkward, like she always does.

“I also am a third degree black belt in karate, so that's probably the best decision she'll ever make,” she teases, moving just an inch closer to her, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Nobody touches my Rosie and gets away with it,” Denali swears, and her heart tugs only a little when Rosé smiles appreciatively, placing a kiss on her jaw.

Denali looks back at the TV, thinking that's it, but Rosé looks at her with a feeling she can't quite put a finger on.

“You know, about that…” she starts to say, leaving the sentence in the air, and Denali frowns.

“What? Are you going to tell me Jan decided to take self defense classes now?” She tries to joke, but Rosé shakes her head, suddenly serious.

“No, about them calling you my girlfriend,” Rosé finally says, all in one breath, and Denali tenses. “I always wonder--doesn’t it bother you? Because it does bother me.”

Denali just stares at her, speechless, as she feels a lump form in her throat. Since when does she feel like this? Has Rosé always been ashamed of having to fake date her?

Donut pokes her abdomen, bringing her back to reality, and all she can do is frown, visibly troubled.

“Uh, why--why does it bother you? I don't mind, personally,” Denali stammers out, blinking repeatedly.

Rosé moves so she's facing her, and her demeanor is so different from Denali's; she's calm, as if she doesn't notice how thrown off Denali is, and there's the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Who smiles when they tell their best friend they're embarrassed people think they're dating?

“Because we're not a couple,” she says simply, and Denali could try to get a word in about her not being all that bad, maybe make an empty promise to not cook any more pozole on Wednesdays for being so offended—but she doesn't get a chance to do any of that before Rosé continues. “But I would like to. I would love to. I don't like half-assing stuff.”

Denali blinks repeatedly, again, not really catching on what Rosé just said. Rosé's rambling, trying to tell her about these feelings she's been suppressing ever since they moved in together, and the only thing Denali can think of is how tired she's of Rosé's love for the drama.

“You corny bitch,” she mumbles, interrupting her rant, “I like you too, dumbass.”

Rosé exhales in relief, making Denali chuckle. “Great, because now I can do this.” She cups her face gently before going in for a kiss—the first of many, Denali hopes.

They only let go when Donut starts to bark at them, and Denali doesn't have to speak dog to understand even Donut is happy they got their shit together.

#asks #ella 🐰#fics requests #my fanfiction #rosnali #idk if what denali does is karate but the wiki didnt say so i just assumed #denali foxx #omgheyrose

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imaginaryari · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Show

Part One

The prisoner looks up as her least favorite cop comes into the interrogation room. Officer Warren has awards for rounding up the enhanced, people like Silver. He walks and talks like a man the people respect and fear. Talks to the enhanced like they’re close on first name bases and revels in the fact that he put them in their cells. What she would give to lay one finger on him. That’s all she needs. Unfortunately, her hands are gloved and bound because officer Warren also knows that.

“To what do I owe the pleasure officer.” She asks.

“How would you like to get out here?”

It’s a trap. Silver knows this. The enhanced don’t get second chances especially not from officer Warren.

“Wasn’t I supposed to rot in here? Just as you said?” Silver asks.

Officer Warren gives her a sick grin. “I thought you would be interested in parole but if you aren’t...there’s plenty of you in here. “

The promise of seeing the outside world again would sway anyone.

“How can I trust you?”

Officer Warren beckons one of the guards. “Remove her cuffs.”

“Sir?”

“Now, please.” Warren orders.

Silver immediately rubs her wrists when the cuffs click open. The relief is almost overwhelming. She quickly reminds herself not to do anything stupid, no matter how satisfying it would be to knock Warren’s lights out.

“There’s a group of enhanced kids going around and robbing people. Messing with their heads. You’re fond of doing that so I thought this would be the perfect way to end your sentence.” Warren had said as he escorted her out.

Silver squints. Nothing about that story adds up. Robbing civilians while common isn’t a team effort especially if you can mess with minds and memory. A group would actually draw more attention and a tight knit one wouldn’t take the risk of losing a member to officials.

Unless your Silver’s ex. Hm. Things are starting to make sense.

“You’ve tried to catch them before.” Silver states.

Warren doesn’t even look ashamed admitting his failure. “Physical powers are one thing. Mental ones are harder. But from my experience you can catch ‘em with a little trust.” He begins to walk away, leaving Silver at the gates. “You have three weeks.”

—

It’s no fancy hotel, barely a motel, but it’s a place and it’s furnished. Officer Warren had said it was hers for as long as it took her to finish her task. Silver won’t complain, before she was arrested, she was constantly couch surfing. Never out staying her welcome and never spending too long on the streets. She had made friends this way but contacting them was out of the question. Getting caught means getting blacklisted. A means of protecting themselves. Well, Silver had been thrown under the bus. Semantics. She won’t see them again and hopefully they’re doing okay.

She shakes her head, never mind that. She has a job to do and extraordinarily little to go on.

The neighborhood is different. She didn’t expect it to be quite the same after lock-up but the changes are more than jarring. New buildings going up, less of the spots her old friends used to hang. Silver is so sure the neighborhood has been purged of the enhanced until she decides to hit up one of the cafés. She stares at it; upset she can’t remember what it used to be and then enters reading the weirdly named drinks on the menu.

“Are you new around here?” another patron asks.

“Not exactly,” Silver says with a shrug, eyeing the stranger. He’s handsome even if he looks like he should have taken a sip of his drink before speaking. The bags under his eyes scream exhaustion but he still sounds awake. And happy about it. “It’s just a while since I’ve been round here.”

“Ah, try the mint hot chocolate. It’s a crowd favorite.”

“Is that what you’re having?”

He chuckles. “No…this is way too caffeinated for the masses.”

“Is the inevitable crash worth it?” She asks.

“Always.” He says as Silver is called next to order. “See you around.” The stranger says exiting. She thinks about the encounter for hours afterwards. The enhanced were still around even if they were muted.

—

She finds what she’s looking for the next day, right before the sun sets. It’s a large tent set up in a nearby park. Big enough to draw attention but lacking the actual necessities to pass as a real circus. No animal trailers, no confection stands. To anyone paying attention there’s no possible way it could have been set up so quickly. Definitely the work of the enhanced.

Civilians flock to the tent with the promise of entertainment. Silver by-passes the line and taps a potential viewer on their shoulder. “You don’t really want to see this show, right? I can take that ticket off you.” The man blinks and then hands over his ticket. Silver quickly takes it and makes her way to her seat.

The spotlight lowers, illuminating what has to be the ringleader. He’s barely dressed for the occasion. Top hat donned but instead of a blaring red jacket, a black T-shirt with a tuxedo print and black jeans contrasting nicely with white sneakers.

“Hello everyone. Welcome to your wildest dreams. I’ll be your guide. Whenever you need me you can shout More!” Silver snorts at the corny introduction but still applauds with the crowd. It takes a moment but she recognizes him. The man from the café with the over caffeinated drink. Interesting. So far he’s just the host, maybe the leader of this whole operation, but Silver can’t place an ability just yet.

“Please give a round of applause to our first act, Mirage, master of illusion.”

Silver is willing to bet he’s the one responsible for the tent. His set isn’t too extravagant; he just has smoke and card tricks. It’s what he does with them that counts. Shifting the smoke to look like a bird that soars over the crowd. It lands ever so gently on the empty seat in front of one of the viewers. The spotlight shifts to them, a young boy, and he offers a nervous smile, not prepared for the attention. The guest looks to Mirage who gives a cocky smile. “Blow it away.” He instructs through his mic. With a shrug he does. The smoke dissipates to reveal a real bird. A stark white dove. The young boy reaches for it face lit up in wonder, but it takes off landing right on Mirages shoulder. He pets it to prove its real and the dove seems to love it. However, it then dissipates into smoke after Mirage blows on it. That confirms it for Silver, the dude simply makes illusions.

“I need a volunteer for my next trick.” Mirage says.

He and More look around at the audience and More locks eyes with Silver. There’s a connection, a shock of understanding, and something else she can’t quite place before he says, “You, cutie with the hood. Would you like to help Mirage?”

Silver nods unable to break eye contact.

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just a simple card trick.” Mirage says, a deck of cards pulled from his pockets. Silver keeps her head down and her hood on as she walks into the ring. She wasn’t supposed to draw attention. More finally backs away giving Mirage the stage.

It is a simple card trick, with a lot of flourish. Silver selects a card, memorizes it, puts it back in the deck. Mirage is skilled making the cards seem to dance, shuffling and tossing them even pulling some from behind Silver. Sleight of hand can be learned, however,

“Is this your card?”

“It sure looks like it!” Silver says, and the audience applauds. Her choice in words don’t go unnoticed by Mirage. He smiles, like he just learned a juicy secret and gestures for Silver to return to her seat.

More passes her on his way back to the stage and gives her a similar smile to Mirage’s. She can’t help but feel she shouldn’t have done that.

“Our next act goes by Charlie. He doesn’t say much but he’s loads of fun!”

Silver immediately understands how the next act earned his name. Charlie dances out, encompassing Chaplin’s energy. He dons a similar top hat to More, and shirt except his is white instead. More comments on this with a laugh. “Clearly one of us has to change!” As corny as Silver finds More, she can’t say she’s not amused. Charlie looks More up and down, and then gets into a stance. He’s posed like a batter on home base and leans back and forth on his toes. He swings and More ducks, his top hat flying across the ring as if a real bat had hit it. The trick ears them impressed gasps and amused giggles from the audience. From Silver it earns a disbelieving stare. She’s never seen an enhanced like Charlie yet.

Charlie continues, his set like any traditional mime. Tripping over objects that aren’t there, pushing invisible walls, overexaggerating his facial expressions. Except Silver thinks, knows, he isn’t. There is a wall the audience can’t see. Silver can’t prove it, and wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining Charlie to officer Warren.

“Give it up for Charlie everyone!” More says shaking Silver from her thoughts. Charlie leaves the stage with the same comedic swagger and a wave.

“Now our next act is unfortunately our last. But we always go out with a bang! Please welcome to the ring, Star!”

With the snap of More’s fingers the lights go out. Another snap and they’re back, along with a woman sitting on a trapeze. She’s beyond beautiful, it could be the lighting, or the slight shimmer she has, but she’s captivating all the same. Her hair is pulled into two puffs and her smile dazzles the audience. Silver notes that there is no apparent netting beneath her, that should be concerning.

The music starts, a haunting melody punctuated by a bass that Silver feels in her chest. Star is flying above the audience on her trapeze. She hangs by her legs and lets her arms hang. If Silver focuses, she can see what looks like dust, her charisma spills off of her, entrancing the audience. She makes another mental note, three out of four isn’t bad. Maybe she wrong about him being enhanced. He could just be the fall guy if this all goes to shit. Authorities like Warren wouldn’t keep a powerless civilian. It’s smart. The doubt lingers. She knows what she felt.

Silver almost misses the end. Stars trapeze returns to the ring and she waves before letting go and falling to the ground. The audience gasps bracing for an impact that never comes. Star vanishes in a puff of smoke that settles all over the ring. The applause is stuttered out, the crowd is impressed and worried.

When the smoke clears the applause picks back up as all the performers are safe, taking their bows.

“Thank you all for coming!” More says. The lights go out. When they come back on the group is gone. Well, that’s one way to end things.

“Like the show?” A voice comes up from behind Silver. She’s just as dazzling up close and silver can see how she captivates the audience. The charisma wisps around her like smoke.

“Sure did. Wasn’t expecting to be part of it though.”

“Yeah, More can be a bit impulsive,” Star says apologetically. She steps closer to whisper. “But his guess was right! You are like us.”

“All of you? Special?”

“Yup!”

“What gave me away?”

“You didn’t immediately fall for my charm.”

“...really?”

“That and More caught you using your gift to get a ticket.”

“Also caught her struggling to order at the café,” More says rounding on them. “We should stop meeting like this.”

#mine #short story #circus story #writing #a story in 3 parts #its rough idc

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riasei · 4 years

Text

Forever

pairing: takami keigo x fem! reader

warnings: slight angst, cursing

word count: 6,015

note: It has been one (1) day, and I am already back. however, I apologize to my sinners, but there is nothing nsfw about this. I am the biggest simp for keigo and when this idea popped in my head I just had to write it out. Fun fact: my psych class got a peek of this because I accidentally closed tabs while sharing my screen during a zoom conference :) I’ve never wanted to die more.

summary: keigo begins acting weird after the two of you attend a friend’s wedding.

°✩❇✩°

The aroma of soft citrus fills the air as you carefully spray some of your perfume at the juncture of your neck. With a delicate whiff, you take in the scent, enjoying the smell of fresh lemon and the tiniest hint of vanilla. Strong arms come up behind you, wrapping around your waist, pressing your back flush against a lean chest.

With a giggle, you paw at the arms. “Keigo, you’re going to wrinkle my dress!” You shout, attempting to pry his figure away from you.

Your stubborn lover nuzzles his face into your neck, his scruff slightly tickling you. “But you smell so fucking good,” He groans. You can feel his teasing grin against your soft skin, his hot breath fanning against you.

“If you keep this up, we’re going to be late.” You warn, a pout etching its way onto your face.

The man breathes in your scent deeply before pulling away from you, his arms giving you one last squeeze to your waist. In the vanity mirror, you can see Keigo smiling at you with complete adoration, his brilliant eyes drinking you in. Your formal dress is your favorite color, and it complements your skin tone beautifully. The outfit doesn’t necessarily hug your figure, but it accentuates you in the best way possible. To Keigo, you look absolutely ethereal.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You hum, picking up a tube of lip gloss and looking into the mirror as you carefully apply the product.

The blonde chuckles, his playful expression never faltering. “Trust me, I have enough pictures of you to last a lifetime. But, no picture could ever do you justice.” He murmurs.

Delicate pink blossoms on your cheeks, rivaling the blush you applied earlier. “You have the audacity to say that to me while you’re standing there looking like that?”

Keigo tilts his head, bringing his hand up to adjust his suffocating tie, the fabric the same bright vermillion as his wings. His earrings glint in the fluorescents lights of your vanity. “I’m glad you like it, Doll, but this shit is so uncomfortable.” He groans, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

You smile sympathetically, pressing you’re your lips together to blend the gloss on your lips. “It’s only for a few hours, after that, I promise you won’t be in that suit for much longer.” You suggest, raising a brow.

The hero hums, placing a sweet kiss to your temple. “Remind me why we can’t just not show up and instead skip to the good part?”

“Because our friends are getting married and they want us to be there, that’s why.” You deadpan, flicking your boyfriend’s forehead.

He yelps dramatically, pulling away from you and covering his forehead. “Seriously,” You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue. “You call yourself a Pro-Hero?”

Keigo begins to pout, preparing to launch into one of his tangents. However, before he’s able to talk your ear off, his phone begins to ring. He fishes it out of his pocket, staring in surprise at the screen. “Oh! It’s the groom himself.”

The blonde answers the phone cheerily. “Kamui, having second thoughts? If you feel like bolting, I can totally drive the getaway car.”

You nearly facepalm at Keigo’s idiotic greeting but resist the urge in fear of smudging the makeup that took you hours to perfect. Silently, you work on touching-up your hair while your boyfriend speaks on the phone, his tone swiftly changing.

“Alright, calm down. Just talk to me, what’s going on?” He reassures, wings ruffling slightly as he begins to pace around the room.

The room is silent on Keigo’s end for a few moments before Keigo begins yelling into his phone. “Listen, I’m getting pissed off listening to your doubts. You’re really acting like this on the day of your fucking wedding? You should’ve thought of this shit before proposing, dumbass.” He snarls, eyes narrowing.

You immediately turn around, shooting your boyfriend a menacing glare. Being nervous is perfectly normal, especially on such an important day like this. Only when Keigo catches your downcast eyes does he seem to shrink into himself, barely noticing just how harsh his words were.

“Ah, Kamui, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, don’t listen to a word I just said.” The blonde frantically apologizes, eyes darting around the room.

More silence passes before Keigo speaks once more. “Listen, being anxious is normal, I’m sorry for dismissing you. But I don’t think you have to worry. You’ve told me countless times just how much you love this woman. She’s the one for you.” He soothes, voice starkly different from just moments before.

After several moments, Keigo bids a goodbye before hanging up his phone. He avoids your eyes as you make your way across the room, stalking over to his timid form. “What the hell was that about?” You wonder, poking a finger into his chest.

Keigo shifts uncomfortably under your piercing gaze. “I don’t really know,” He mutters, ashamed. “I guess his doubts just didn’t make much sense to me.”

Your mouth twists into an unfriendly scowl. “I would be just as nervous as him on my wedding day!” You declare confidently. The way Keigo stiffens at the mention of marriage doesn’t go unnoticed by your watchful eye. “He has every right to be anxious. He’s promising his life to someone else today. That’s a huge deal. Cut him some slack, okay?”

You reach a hand up, cupping your lover’s cheek in your hand. He instantly leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. He nods his head meagerly at your request, eyes opening when you press a small kiss to his cheek. Keigo gazes down at you with conflicted eyes, a tsunami of emotions washing over him all at once.

“Is everything alright, Kei?” You question, snapping the man’s attention to you.

His first instinct is to muster up a toothy smile and say some corny joke before musing your hair, confirming that everything is fine. But he doesn’t. You know him too damn well to fall victim to such a lie. Instead, the blonde hangs his head, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know…” He trails off.

Eyes softening, you wrap your arms around his waist, enveloping the man in a comforting embrace. The thought of wrinkling your dress doesn’t even cross your mind. “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, stroking calming circles at the base of his wings.

“Not right now, Birdie.” He sighs, savoring your touch.

The way you’re so patient with him, never forcing him to talk. The way you are so quickly able to make him feel comforted and loved. The two of you have been together for years, and yet your affection and love never ceases to surprise him. How could someone as perfect as you love a bastard such as himself?

Keigo is the first to pull away, helping you straighten your dress as he separates from you. “Well, if you ever feel like talking about it, I’ll be right here, okay?”

The blonde presses an affectionate kiss at the top of your head. “Okay.”

~~~

Loud cheers erupt through the reception as Keigo makes his way up to Endeavor, asking him for a dance. You desperately wish you had pulled out your phone in time to capture the No. 1 hero’s expression when your boyfriend so seriously extended his hand to him. The poor fiery man looked absolutely horrified and disgusted all at once.

In the end, the two men ended up sharing a very awkward and hilarious dance due to the immense pressure the crowd was putting on Endeavor to accept. As soon as Endeavor took Keigo’s hand, Present Mic, the resident DJ, immediately switched the song to something intimate and slow, which only added to the mortification of the Todoroki.

The two men sway together, awkwardly stepping on one another’s feet. Your boyfriend does his absolute best to annoy the living hell out of his fellow hero, and you have a feeling that the media is going to have a field day with this. Towards the end of the song, Keigo being Keigo, has to go out with a bang. He uses his feathers to lift up Endeavor into the sky before dropping the man, sending him plummeting down to the floor only to be caught in your boyfriend’s arms.

Laughter explodes, no guest is able to contain themselves at the sight of the No. 1 hero being carried bridal style in the arms of the winged-hero Hawks. You have no doubt that someone managed to take a video of the moment, which will most definitely end up on tomorrow’s news.

Endeavor is seething, escaping your boyfriend’s clutches as fast as possible. He gives a loud roar, screaming at Keigo, who dons a shit-eating grin. The red-haired man storms away, heading towards the bar for a much-needed drink.

You can’t contain your giggles as Keigo walks back over to you, slinging an arm around your waist. “Do I have anything to worry about?” You laugh, eyeing the blonde through your peripheral.

His smile widens. “I don’t know… Enji does have quite the ass.”

Playfully, you slap the hero’s arm before leaning up to kiss him. The two of you break away laughing, eyes gleaming under the twinkle lights decorating the venue.

Someone clears their throat, and you look towards the front of the area to see Present Mic speaking into the microphone. “After that beautiful display… it is now time for the bouquet toss! Unmarried ladies, gather round to see just who is going to be getting hitched next!”

You turn, pressing a sweet kiss to Keigo’s jaw before slithering out of his grasp. “That’s my cue,”

The blonde gulps, and his eyes drift to lock onto anything but you. He shifts in his spot a takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, nibbling slightly. You quirk your head and begin to walk back to him, preparing to ask what’s wrong. But, before you have the chance, you’re being whisked away by an eager Mt. Lady.

A small crowd of women gathers together in the middle of the dancefloor, all ready to participate in the bouquet toss. Kamui’s newlywed wife smiles at everyone before turning around, her dress swishing behind her gracefully. With a small count off, the woman throws the bundle of flowers behind her, several poorly wrapped daises flying onto the floor.

Several women dive for the flowers, some going as far as to even push others around. You halfheartedly walk forward, hands outstretched. Just as you’re about to retract your hands, the soaring flowers begin their descent right into your grasp. The sharp thorn of a rose pricks your thumb, but the shock of catching the flowers outweighs the pulsating pain.

A few people gasp, and others cheer when they see you’ve got the bouquet. Some of the women who ended up diving desperately for the flowers groan, offering meaningless congratulations. You giggle at the flowers, searching the crowd for Keigo’s expression.

You find him in the same spot where you left him, expect, his expression isn’t much of what you thought it would be. His eyes are wide, and his crimson wings twitch slightly. From that place you stand, you can see the blonde gulp, his eyes trained on his polished dress shoes. All eyes are trained on the two of you, considering it is widely known that you two have been together for quite some time.

Numerous men go up to your boyfriend and clap him on the shoulder, teasing him by saying he needs to start preparing to propose, alluding to the superstitions behind the bouquet toss. It is widely thought by many that the woman who catches the bride’s bouquet will be the next one to get married. While you don’t necessarily believe this, you can’t help but feel hurt by Keigo’s obvious discomfort. Is the thought of marrying you that repulsive?

Gingerly, you walk over to the blonde, hiding the bouquet at your side. He does his best to smile at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with visible effort. His mouth opens to make a smart comment, but all he can do is stare at you, eyes drifting to the flowers being held tightly in your grasp.

Kamui, the groom from today, walks up to the two of you, not picking up on the palpable tension. He swings an arm around Keigo’s neck and brings the man into a headlock, rubbing a fist against his head. “Look at you! Am I going to need to yell at you like you did to me on your wedding day, Hawks?” He chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief.

Keigo pales. “Uh, I don’t think there will be a need for that.” The blonde manages to choke out.

“Are you sure? Because believe me, I have a lot to say to you.” The groom teases, finally releasing your lover.

The winged man takes a moment to compose himself, readjusting his tie and straightening out his suit jacket. With one final punch to the shoulder, Kamui leaves to mingle with his new in-laws.

You toss the bouquet on the table you and Keigo had been assigned to sit. “Can you believe that?” You wryly laugh. “Some people actually believe we’re gonna get married soon just because I caught those flowers.”

Keigo quirks a brow at you, noticing how off your tone seems. He takes a breath, exhaling deeply before reaching for your hand. Your finger interlace with his, your smooth and delicate hands molding perfectly against his worn and rough ones. Keigo squeezes his hand around yours, instantly providing you with the comfort you didn’t know you needed.

He murmurs your name softly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Keigo.”

~~~

Drops of water trail down from your hair, wetting your shirt and causing the cotton fabric to stick to you uncomfortably. With a groan, you get up and head towards your shared bedroom with Keigo in search of something dry to change into. You’d neglected to dry your hair after showering, and you are now very much regretting that decision.

In the corner of the room lies a stack of laundry that neither of you has worked up the motivation to put away. Languidly, you throw off your shirt and look for another one. In the pile of clothes, there are none of your items, and with one quick glance in the hamper, you realize that you have exhausted your usual sleepwear.

Shrugging, you reach for one of Keigo’s casual shirts and throw it over your form. It’s a plain black tee with a small white design near the breast. It hangs lowly on you, the sleeves slightly too big for your form.

You walk over lazily to flop onto the bed, snuggling under the plush duvet. You whip out your phone and begin to scroll randomly through social media. Meanwhile, your boyfriend is still showering. Typically, the two of you would shower together, but for some odd reason, this time Keigo decided he would conveniently be busy while you were washing up.

An article pops up on your feed, its title relating to Kamui’s wedding. The media sure does work fast, considering the wedding only ended a few hours ago.

Bored, you tap the article with your thumb. As the webpage buffers, the water shuts off in the bathroom, signaling that your boyfriend should be done.

Skimming through the article, you find that it is quite detailed. There must have been someone from the news there, despite the fact that Kamui and his wife were adamant only close friends and family attend.

The article talks about the beautiful ceremony, noting how the groom ended up sobbing while reading his vows. It, of course, also mentions Keigo’s dance with Endeavor, including a video of it taken from someone’s social media. You giggle at the sight, the memory fresh in your mind.

Behind you, Keigo drops into bed, snuggling up to your back. He rests his head in the crook of your shoulder and rests his hands on your waist, looking at your phone with you. Pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder where his big t-shirt had fallen from your form, the hero laughs. He sees the video of him and Endeavor playing and sighs contentedly.

As you keep reading through the editorial, now with Keigo reading with you, your breath nearly hitches when you come up to the next section of the article. A huge picture of you holding a bundle of flowers fills the screen. Behind you, Keigo shifts lightly.

Thumb swiping along the screen, you read the text under the unnecessarily huge photo.

UPCOMING HERO WEDDING?

This evening, at the wedding of Pro-Hero Kamui Woods, talks of another upcoming hero wedding have begun. Number 2 Hero Hawks has been in a longtime relationship with his girlfriend for several years, and tonight she was pictured catching the bride’s bouquet, which according to popular superstitions, means the couple will soon be married.

According to inside sources, the couple seemed ecstatic. While there are no videos available, some guests report that our beloved winged-hero expressed great joy at the sight of seeing his partner catching the flowers.

The couple has been together publicly for nearly 4 years now, but some suspect they were together for much longer before actually announcing their relationship. These two love birds have been dating even longer than Kamui and his own bride, which makes some think that a wedding is long overdue. An anonymous source we interviewed after the wedding said Hawks definitely agrees! According to them, Hawks has been on the hunt for a ring for a few months.

Stay tuned and consider subscribing to our newsletter for the best Pro-Hero news.

You snort unattractively after finishing the article. “What the fuck is this supposed to be?”

Keigo doesn’t respond, his grip on your waist faltering. You shut off your phone, placing it on the bed. Turning around, you face the blonde. “Is everything all right?”

He grits his teeth before choking back a grimace. “Yeah, of course. I just hate seeing the media make up shit about us.” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

Despite not fully believing the response, you accept it. “Me too,” You roll your eyes. “I can’t imagine how it must be for you, always being in the media’s eyes. I swear, I’d go insane.”

The blonde huffs, his face relaxing, grateful that you aren’t pushing him. “Yeah, it fucking sucks, but I think I’ve gotten used to it over the years. But trust me, I did want to go insane at first.”

You nod your head, stifling a yawn. Keigo smiles at you and reaches out a hand to stroke your hair. “You should go to sleep, Doll.”

You sigh at the soothing feeling of Keigo’s fingers massaging into your scalp. “So should you,”

Pursing his lips, the hero turns his head away. “I would love to, but I have a report I need to finish.” He explains, sitting up in bed.

With a groan, you take the corner of his shirt in your weak fist. “Don’t you always have someone at your agency do that for you? Just come to bed with me.” You whine.

“What are you talking about,” He teases. “I’m an independent man. I always do my own work.”

You hum, eyelids drooping. “Yeah, sure you do.”

Keigo gets up from the bed and comes around to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, Birdie.”

Moments later, you slip into a dreamless sleep. Before Keigo can even exit the room, he turns around to look you over, seeing your lips parted with soft breaths and eyes closed shut. He smiles down at you softly before heading into the living room to work on his report.

When you awake the next morning, your boyfriend is already gone at work. There’s a dent in the bed next to you, so you have the comfort of knowing that he didn’t stay up all night, but it makes you uneasy that he left so early. Typically, Keigo will wait for you to wake up before heading into work, and if he’s forced to go in early, he will always send you an explanatory text message.

Except, this morning, you wake up and he’s gone with no message. You don’t want to feel paranoid, especially since this is the first time Keigo has done this, but you can’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Around his break, you shoot your boyfriend a simple message, asking if he’s doing alright. For a few minutes, he simply just reads your text message. It takes a while before he responds with a confirmation that he’s doing just fine, along with a simple apology for not be able to greet you in the morning.

Quickly, you send back a message telling him it’s no problem. Feelings of guilt start to creep up on you as you wonder why you’d been so worried. It’s not like you don’t trust Keigo, but he was acting quite strangely yesterday. Was he mad at you? Is that why he left early?

You shake your head, ridding yourself of your anxious thoughts. No, your boyfriend wouldn’t do that. At the beginning of your relationship, maybe he would’ve, but over the years, you two have learned to communicate seamlessly with each other. If he was upset, he would tell you, He always does, and this time is no different.

Later in the day, you order some food and wait for Keigo to come home. He’s usually a latecomer, considering his job is more demanding than most. At first, you aren’t worried when your boyfriend isn’t home by 7:00. Although that is when he usually arrives, you remain unfazed. It’s quite likely that he just got stuck at the agency.

However, when it reaches 11:00, you start to twitch. Every few minutes, you open your phone to check for new messages, and your leg begins to bounce with anxiety as time continues to pass. Out of genuine concern, you send Keigo another message asking if he’s okay.

Your phone shows that he never even reads it. You then leave a phone call, followed by a very worried voicemail. Did something happen to him? Did he have an encounter with a particularly nasty villain? Just as you’re about to call the front desk of Keigo’s agency, the lock on your front door clicks.

In the blonde walks, his hair in disarray, no doubt from flying. You breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Upon seeing you up, Keigo’s eyes fly open. It is nearly midnight, and you’re usually asleep by now. He rushes towards you.

“Doll, what are you still doing up?” He asks, pressing a hand to your cheek.

“I was worried, you never stay this late without texting me. I thought, I thought that something had happened.” You explain, words slurring together with the overwhelming need for sleep.

Keigo curses himself. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m fine, baby, I swear.”

You smile, eyes drooping. “Good, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened.” You managed to mumble, barely comprehensible.

The hero picks you up in his arms and holds you close to his chest as he walks to the bedroom. Carefully he places you in bed, tucking you snuggly under the covers and kissing you goodnight.

When you wake up the next morning, Keigo is gone once more. Although, this time, he’s texted you like he usually does.

This time, when he isn’t home by 10:00, you opt to go to bed without him. Faintly, you remember waking up to him coming home in the early morning, only for him to lull you back to sleep with his soothing voice.

For weeks, it’s the same thing all over again.

Keigo leaves to work before you wake up, stays late at work, and comes home after you’ve gone to sleep. The cycle is brutal, and every time you try to confront your lover about it, he skillfully avoids the question.

Unpleasant thoughts soon invade your mind, plaguing you every second of the day. Is he actually mad at you? Are you not enough anymore? Did Keigo find someone else? At night, you can’t help the tears that leak onto the mattress as you sob, wondering just what you did wrong. There must be a reason for his obscure behavior, and the only connection your brain can make is that you are somehow at fault.

You endure several weeks of avoidance before you work up the courage to confront Keigo.

Instead of going to sleep at your regular time, you stay up, waiting for him in the lounge. A blanket is wrapped tightly around you, comforting you as you wait for your boyfriend.

However, you can’t help but fall asleep as it becomes late. You spent so much energy worrying and stressing over confronting Keigo that you wore yourself out mentally.

Hours later, you awake in bed. It isn’t the time you usually wake up, far from it. The bright light of your phone nearly blinds you as you pick it up to check the time. 3:00am.

Looking next to you, Keigo isn’t in bed. There isn’t even a sign that he tried to rest, the sheets still undisturbed.

Tears threaten to fall from your watering eyes, but before you can begin to cry, you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. Gingerly, you walk out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep away from your bloodshot eyes. Sitting at the kitchen island is Keigo, in his hand an empty glass. Next to him sits a bottle of whiskey.

Immediately, Keigo looks up, having heard your light footsteps. His eyes widen at the sight of you awake at such an ungodly hour.

You sigh at him, taking the seat next to him. You snatch the glass from his hand and pour yourself a drink, downing it in one go. If you’re going to talk to him right now, you’re going to need the liquid courage.

“What’re you doing up?” He croaks out, watching as you gulp down the alcohol.

You laugh dryly. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Uncomfortable silence envelops the two of you.

It’s been weeks since the two of you have seen each other properly and had a decent conversation. Most of your interactions, as of late, have been dull and forced.

Next to you, the blonde shifts in his seat, his wings shuddering slightly. You purse your lips. Is he really that uncomfortable just being around you? The thought makes you want to scream. What the hell happened to the two of you? Where did everything go so unbelievably wrong?

Choking on a sob, you lay the glass down on the table and abruptly rise from your seat. You exit the kitchen and head to the lounge, plopping down onto the couch and burying your hands in your face.

The legs of Keigo’s stool scrape the ground as he pushes back his seat, rising to chase after you. Instantly, he’s at your side, placing a hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circle into your exposed skin. You hate how much you nearly tremble at his touch after being denied of it for so long.

Tears stream down your face, rolling down to your chin and staining your nightshirt.

The blonde whispers your name softly. “Hey, what’s wrong,”

You look at him miserably, and immediately Keigo feels bad for asking. He absolutely knows what’s wrong, and he clenches the fist that rests at his side. Of course, he fucking knows why you’re crying. He knows because he’s the reason why.

“Keigo, I-“ You sob, taking a moment to wipe away your tears. “Did I do something wrong?”

Keigo’s heart drops, his own eyes beginning to water. Before he can even begin to express how wrong you are, you continue to talk.

“Do I not make you happy anymore?” You weep, voice breaking. “Is there someone else?”

The hero’s eyes immediately widen, and he grabs your hands, clasping them between his own. “No!” He nearly shouts.

The volume of Keigo’s voice stuns you. “I would never do something like that to you, please, believe me.” He begs, desperation lacing his voice.

You swallow heavily. “Then what is going on, Keigo? You can’t keep me in the dark anymore! I’m sorry, but I need to fucking know.”

Instantly, the blonde’s heart shatters to pieces. For a moment, he can’t even respond to you. The only thing he can manage to squeeze out is a broken, “I love you, so much.”

“You certainly have a way of showing it, then.” You snap back, eyes sharp.

“You’re the love of my life. I love you so much that sometimes it fucking hurts,” He cries, hot tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

The pure desperation and despair lining his voice is heartbreaking. You meet your boyfriend’s eyes to see that he is now crying just as much as you.

Keigo takes a deep breath, trying his best to compose himself. “You are so amazing that sometimes I can’t even believe you exist. You deserve the world and so much more… and I’m afraid that I can’t give that to you. I’m afraid that I can’t give you what you want.”

You shake your head, peering up at the broken man in front of you. “Keigo, what are you talking about? You, you give me more than I could ever ask for, more than I deserve.”

Biting his lip, Keigo turns his head away. “I want to be with you forever. I want to spend the rest of my damned life with you.” He responds firmly, turning back to look you straight in the eyes.

Color flushes to your face, and your heart skips a beat at his declaration.

“But… I can’t marry you.”

His words hit you like a physical blow. They cut deep into you, tearing you up from the inside out.

“What?” Is all you can manage to ask, eyes searching his for any sort of answer.

Keigo takes a hand to run it through his hair. “It’s not just you, I can’t marry anyone. I just fucking can’t, okay? And I’m so fucking sorry that I made you so miserable by avoiding you, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me when you found out that I can’t get married.” He admits.

Your breathing starts to slow, as do your tears. “Keigo, what do you mean you can’t get married?”

A loud sob echoes off the walls as your boyfriend folds in on himself. He trembles against you, and you rush to wrap an arm around him. “I just can’t… there’s too much that can go wrong, and the thought of it is more terrifying than any villain I’ve ever faced.”

Tenderly, you brush a strand of blonde hair behind his hair. Shakily, Keigo continues. “My parents were ruthless drunks. They had the most dysfunctional relationship in the goddamn world, and it messed me the fuck up. As a kid, it was so damn confusing to see two people who claimed they loved each other fight and hurt each other, then to have them team up to hurt me.” He trembles, clutching onto you like a lifeline.

“Then, when my amazing parents basically sold me off to the government, I was often cared for by this other family. They were just as bad as my actual parents, if not worse. They bonded over making me miserable, hurting me helped them grow closer. It was fucking disgusting.”

You’ve heard snippets of these stories before, but Keigo would always stop himself before talking about his parents. Now, you understand why. Tears begin to fall from your eyes once more at the thought of the man you love so much being hurt by the people who were supposed to protect him.

“Not to mention, if we were to ever get married, I could never guarantee your safety. The Hero Commission hates our relationship, remember how they threatened you when we started dating? Imagine what they would do if we were to get married…” He trails off, choking back a lump in his throat.

As Keigo takes a few moments to compose himself, you bring your hand up to wipe away his tears, cupping his cheek and pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his face. This action only seems to break him even more, as your boyfriend begins to whimper, pulling away from you.

He cries out your name in sorrow. “I’m so sorry I avoided you. I just, I didn’t know what I’d do if you left me when you found out.”

You still at his words. “Keigo, I would never leave you, not over something like this.” You explain, stunned as to why he thought you would do so.

“But, at Kamui’s wedding, you seemed so excited when you caught the bouquet, and you even talked about getting married one day.” He recalls, eyes puffy and cheeks streaked with lines of salt.

You take your lip into your mouth. “Yes, I did all of those things. But they don’t matter anymore. Not to me.”

The blonde jerks away from you. “Don’t do that! Don’t you dare sacrifice your happiness and the things you want just for me.” He stresses.

“That’s not what I’m doing at all,” You try to clarify, reaching out to the man again.

Keigo avoids your touch. “Yes, you are. You just said you’ve thought about marriage and now you’re saying it doesn’t matter? Please, save me the heartache and don’t lie.”

Frustration races through your veins at the thought that Keigo thinks you’re lying. “Okay, yes, I have thought about marriage. When I was younger, I used to imagine my wedding. In middle school, I had a Pinterest board for my dream wedding. I admit it!” You raise your voice slightly.

Keigo shrinks back at your tone and words. He almost begins to prepare for the impending, ‘this isn’t going to work out,’ but it never comes.

Instead, you force the blonde to look at you as you continue to speak. “But, even though I did all of that, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. Do you want to know why?” You ask fervently. Keigo nods slowly in response.

“It doesn’t matter anymore because I am with you. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t imagined us getting married, but now that I know it’s not what you want, I don’t care.”

Confusion flashes over your boyfriend’s face, and you recognize it immediately. “What do you mean?”

You smile softly. “I mean that as long as I’m with you, I don’t care what the hell we are. You are the love of my life, and I also want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if we spend our relationship together married or not, because as long as we are together, it doesn’t matter.”

The hero stills at your words, slowly drinking them in.

“It’s you that I want, not a wedding. I’m perfectly fine being your girlfriend for the rest of our lives as long as you and I are together.” You continue breathily, eyes searching for Keigo’s for any sort of reaction.

A few moments pass as Keigo fully digests what you’ve said. His silence nearly scares you, but all of your worries are washed away when he frantically grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss full of love and fervor.

When Keigo pulls away, he leans his forehead against your, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you. I love you so fucking much.”

You breathe out a laugh, closing your eyes. “I want to be yours, Keigo. Forever.”

The blonde chuckles against your lips, going in for a chaste kiss. “Forever doesn’t sound too bad.”

#hawks #pro hero hawks #takami keigo #bnha #mha #keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #x reader #my hero academia #boke no hero academia #hawks imagine #angst

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bxthharmon · 4 years

Text

Never Go Home Again, Pt. IX || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 2748

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: weed / breaking and entering

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: disputes are resolved as the gold gets closer.

A/N: Sorry for this taking longer, I was gonna update yesterday but i only had half the chapter done, oops! enjoy, and as always, lemme know if u wanna get tagged, hv any comments or just wanna be friends :)

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“No effing way.” Kie yelled. “You brought her here? So what? She’s in on this now?”

From your seat next on the arm of JJ’s chair, you could see the frustration on her face, the exasperated expression adorning John B’s and the fed up look on Sarah’s. John B looked at you for help, and you and Pope shook your heads, not wanting to get involved.

“Look, all I care about is her cut comes from your share.” JJ spoke up.

“You know, I don’t remember taking a vote!” Kie argued. “This is our thing. A pogue thing.”

“I gotta say,” Pope cut in, “I’m just a tad uncomfortable with all of this.”

“Thank you!” Kie yelled.

“When are you not?” John B countered.

“I dunno, I rode here on the back of JJ’s back pretty comfortably.”

“It’s true. Most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.” JJ agreed.

“That’s cute, guys.” John B nodded, defeated.

“You know, we were all extremely comfortable until you brought her.” said Kie, turning to look at John B.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Sarah yelled.

“Then leave.” countered Kie. Sarah scoffed, turning to John B.

“I told you.”

“Told him what, exactly?” Kie asked. “That you’re a liar?”

“No, that you’re a shit-talking bitch.” next to you, Pope and JJ got out their money, placing bets. Frustrated, you stood up.

“Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, “Both of you.” You stood between them, and could hear JJ changing his bet, banking on you.

“You are my only two girl friends on this island, and you obviously had some sort of drama. But Kie, Sarah is helping us. Can’t you see that? And Sarah, you have no right to call Kie a shit-talking bitch. You’re both as bad as each other. Grow the fuck up! Didn’t you say this shit between you happened in 10th Grade? That was over a year ago! You were like, fifteen! Get over yourselves, and chill the fuck out,” You calmed your voice down, “okay?”

You sat down next to JJ, and John B took the silence to his advantage. “Kie, you’re my best friend, right? And Sarah, you’re… you’re my…”

“Say it.” Sarah murmured, the four of you watching the exchange with baited breath.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

You, Pope and JJ let out a breath. “That’s new.”

“She’s your girlfriend now?” Kie asked, crossing her arms.“What was all that talk about you were just using her for information? Get a map. Cut her loose.”

“You said you were using me?” Sarah asked.

“No.” John B denied.

“Yeah, you did.” you all chorused.

“Look, love just walked in, okay?” John B yelled.

“Cringe.” you whispered, and JJ held down a smile.

“I didn’t expect it.” John B continued, “It just - it kind of happened. And I’m not gonna deny it. Right?”

“Oh, that’s corny.” Pope muttered, adding to your sentiment.

“Look, cut the bullshit, John B.” Kie sighed. “If she’s in, I’m out.” John B protested, but Kie overpowered him. “I’m very interested, actually. Me or her?”

“Both.” John B shrugged.

“Went for the Hail Mary.” JJ observed as you and Pope whistled in surprise.

Kie stormed out, and you looked around the quiet porch, before following her out, and hugging her, wiping away her tears. You could almost feel the group’s eyes burning into you.

You didn’t see any of them until the next day, when Pope picked you and Kie up, telling that JJ and John B had a problem with a boat. You pulled up, the pair of you hopping up onto the boat, finding JJ and John B inside. You and Kie began checking the alternator, hearing a whoop as the boys dove, both running out and swimming to the boat. You ran to the stern as Kie stopped, you didn’t look back.

“Why the fuck am I here?” you yelled, “This is nothing to do with me!”

“Mediate!” JJ yelled, “make sure they don’t kill each other!”

“I’m gonna kill you, Maybank!”

Kie joined you, and you realised Sarah was there. Figures.

They started yelling, the boys telling you to figure everything out.

“There’s food in the cabin, and JJ rolled a blunt!” Pope told you.

“Hydroponic!” JJ added.

“This is ridiculous!” Sarah yelled, struggling out of her shoes and shorts.

“Well, I would rather drown than stay here with you, so…” kie sighed.

“Fine, be my guest, maybe you’ll finally shut the hell up.”

“You don’t even know where you’re going!”

“I don’t care!”

“Good luck with the oyster beds.” Kie said as Sarah climbed in the water, hearing Pope’s call for ‘Godspeed!’

“They’re not coming back for us.” you sighed, looking down at Sarah, swimming in the water. She screamed, and you both looked back to her.

“What?” Kie snapped.

“Are you okay?” you called.

“I got stung by a jellyfish! Shit!”

“Dramatic.” Kie muttered, making you glare at her. This was going to be a long night. “Well you swam right into a man-o’-war I don’t know what you thought was gonna happen.”

You helped Sarah up, hissing at the sight of the red stings.

“Does it hurt?” Kie snarked.

“Hey, Kiara, you know what they say about curing jellyfish stings?”

“Oh God.” you muttered.

“You have to pee on me.”

“I mean, talk about bonding.” you laughed. “I have a better idea.”

“Hey, guess what?”

The hydroponic blunt was working wonders - Sarah had forgotten her pain, you were all more comfortable and Sarah was finally experiencing something other than kook life.

“Would you rather have - I was imagining you like this just now, it was pretty funny - would you imag- Would you rather have nipples for eyes or eyes for nipples? Imagine if you get really old and your nipples, your boobs get saggy, and your nipples - if they were your eyes - you could see if your shoes were untied.”

“Sarah, you could do that with your eyes anyway.” You pointed out.

“Oh. oh yeah.” She looked at you in wonder.

“Is this like your first time smoking or something?” Kie asked her.

“No.” Sarah looked like a child trying to deny stealing candy after getting caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Kie rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Kiara…” Sarah mumbled.

“Oh my God, enough of the ‘Hey, Kiara’ bullshit! Why’d you do it?”

“Wait, catch up time.” You put your hand up, “Why’d she do what?”

“We were best friends. We stole beers from your dad’s fridge, we watched movies together, we cried about boys. And the next thing I know I’m watching your party happen on Instagram.”

You looked between them “Oh, shit, that’s fucked up.” You were definitely high.

“It was one party.” Sarah countered.

“You invited everybody except me.”

“And me.” you added, making the pair glare. You raised your hands in surrender.

“You told everybody I was the reason the party got busted.” continued Kie.

“Okay, well, who else would have called the cops?”

“You never asked. You just let the rumour go that I was a rat. You were my best friend and then you ghosted me and I don’t even know why! I mean, really, what did I do?”

You looked expectantly at Sarah, “You liked me.” she began.

“What?” You and Kie frowned.

“When people get close to me, I feel trapped. And… I bail. Then I blame them for it.” there was a long pause, and you watched the pair process everything. Weirdly, the exchange reminded you of your old friends. “I’m really sorry… and I miss you.” they shared another look, “Do you think there’s a chance we could be okay again?”

“Honestly,” you could see Kie thinking, “I don’t know.”

Sarah nodded slowly, and you spoke up.

“Look, I mean, it all sounds fucked up, but who doesn’t indulge in self destructive behaviour? It’s understandable, and sure, it might take time, but can you guys agree to at least put the effort in?” They nodded, promising.

Not long after, you made your way to the cabin, settling down in the makeshift beds. You lay there in silence, until Kie spoke up.

“Hey Sarah?” she hummed in acknowledgement. “Promise me you won’t bail on John B. He’s not just… some other guy. And he really, really likes you.”

“I won’t.” Sarah murmured.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Kie rolled slightly and sighed. “Also, I’m sorry I called the cops.”

There was a pause, “I knew it.” Sarah giggled. “I knew it you bitch!”

You descended into laughter, you chided Kie about that “not being cool, dude” and Sarah and Kie laughing, friends again.

The three of you sat on the edge of the boat, balanced as you saw the boat approach from afar, the sun lighting you all in gold as the call came. “Uh oh!” JJ yelled from the HMS Pogue, “forgot your keys or something?”

“Need a tow?” John B added.

“For your sakes,” you looked to the girls on either side of you, “Don’t give them the satisfaction of thinking this worked.”

“Absolutely not.” Sarah agreed.

“Never.” Kie nodded.

“You gotta admit, it was funny.” John B said as the boat pulled closer.

“John B.” Sarah greeted.

“Ah, what’s that?” replied John B.

“Mastermind, huh?” Kie snarked.

“Always planning.” John B confirmed.

“Some patriarchal bullshit.”

“That sucked!” Sarah agreed.

“Why was I even there?” you asked, “I had to put up with the arguing for a whole night!”

“Mediation,” shrugged JJ, “and we strongly suspected that if you found out you would steal the HMS and go get ‘em.”

“You’re not wrong.” You nodded. “But I’m gonna kill you.”

“You still love us though, right?” he grinned.

“Debatable.” you shook your head.

“You still hate me?” John B asked Sarah.

“A little.” she crossed her arms, “we’re gonna get you back when you least expect it.”

“Watch your back, boys.” Kie confirmed.

“We’re comin’ for you.” You added.

“Well, I for one, welcome that challenge.” John B shrugged.

“Me too.” JJ agreed.

“So,” Pope turned to you, “Did they, you know…”

“Reconcile their differences?” You asked, “Not even close. But they’re willing to work together.”

You saw them pretend to be offended at the suggestion.

“You know what? That’s a victory.” John B decided.

“Yep,” JJ reached down to Pope, the pair of them doing a weird-tickly-hand-thing “Woogedy-woogedy-woogedy!” You winked at the girls.

“You know what it was guys?” JJ started up again. “Hydroponic.”

“Don’t say that.” Pope shook his head.

“Alright, shut up.” John B cut in, “You guys ready to jack someone up?”

The three of you looked at each other, as if deciding. “Yeah, whatever.” You all muttered your agreement, hopping into the boat and letting John B steer away.

“A’ight, you guys got rope?” John B asked.

“Got it.” Pope held it up.

“Grappling hook?”

“No grappling hook.” You looked down at where everything was gathered, covering your feet. “We’re not batman.”

“Pulley?”

“Check.” Kie confirmed, the van pulling up by the stone wall.

“Dark clothes?”

“Got it.” Sarah said, all of you looking at each other’s clothes. You pulled a black beanie over your head.

“Flashlights?”

“Check.” JJ confirmed, flicking his on in the direction of your face.

“Jay!” you squealed, covering your eyes, “You dickhead.”

“We’re ready.” John B confirmed, grabbing JJ’s flashlight and flicking it off.

“Let’s go.” you said as John B walked around the car to open the door.

“Let’s go get rich, guys.” JJ said as you flicked your own torch on.

“Yeah. Hell yeah.”

“Let’s go, boys.” you said, first to join John B on the tarmac.

“And girls.” Sarah added.

There was a general murmur of agreement as you got out, stopped by John B. The others glanced at each other, still in the van.

“Wait, wait.” You turned to face him. “I wanna say thank you, guys. Seriously. It means a lot to me that you’re here tonight.”

“Always.” Kie smiled.

“Of course, man.” Pope agreed as they did their handshake.

“Bro, we’re here for ya.” you added.

“Alright, we done with this circle jerk?” JJ interrupted, making you roll your eyes. “Can we go do this?”

“Yep.” you and Sarah nodded.

“Let’s go get that wheat in the water.” Pope climbed out.

“Weed?” JJ said, “I’m up for weed.”

“Wheat.” you emphasised the ‘t’, a small smile playing on your lips. You hopped the wall with ease, being careful to avoid the brambles this time. Sarah and Kie followed, and the boys came over after them. You led the group as you made your way to the house in single file. You looked back at the group in time with the light that flicked on, the lot of you scrambling to the floor amidst a flurry of profanities. “Flashlights!” you hissed, thinking of the cemetery all over again.

“Okay,” breathed Pope, “so she has motion sensor lights.”

“We could uh…” JJ looked around, “move really slowly?”

“What?” Sarah frowned.

“Babe. That’s not how it works.” you shook your head at him. He smiled at the nickname.

“Oh, shit.” John B piped up, “Let’s throw a rock at it.”

“What?” Pope asked.

“That’s a really good idea,” Kie snarked, “let the axe murderer know we’re here.”

“Throw a rock at it?” Pope repeated.

“Okay, you have a better idea?” John B asked, offended.

“Literally anything but that.” You deadpanned.

“What about the breaker?” Sarah cut in. “In the circuit box on the porch. We used to play hide-and-seek here as kids, and if we were brave enough we’d go all the way up to the porch. I’ve seen it.”

“No, no. You’re not going into that house alone.” John B shook his head.

“Watch me.” Sarah retorted.

“Crain shops people into pieces.” JJ reminded her.

“She doesn’t,” you rolled your eyes, “but I’m with Sarah. How else do we do this? Besides, she’s like, what, 85?”

“Something like that.”

“She’s probably barely still kicking.” You pointed out.

“I’ll go with you.” Kie turned to Sarah, then back to you. “Wanna join?”

“Nah, y’all do you Velma and Daphne thing.”

“We’ll wait for your signal.” Pope said, the four of you watching them leave.

“Hey!” John B hissed to Sarah. “Be safe.”

JJ grabbed Pope’s cheek. “Be safe.”

“I’ll be so safe.” Pope mocked. “I’ll be safe for you.”

“Can you guys stop?” John B hissed, making you all giggle. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“But how would that keep us safe?” you asked.

“Hey.” JJ whispered, “Velma and Daphne?”

“Scooby Doo?” you reminded him, and he nodded, “I can’t believe you didn’t get that. You!”

The light clicked off.

“They did it.” John B nodded up. “Go time.”

“Let’s do it.” Pope said, JJ pulling his khaki bandana up.

“Three, two…” you didn’t wait, just stood up and walked to the basement, hearing JJ mutter something about your inability to listen to countdowns.

“Holy crap, you know what this is?” JJ asked as you all got to the well. “It just hit me. This is C.H.U.D. Full C.H.U.D.”

“What is he talking about?” you asked Pope.

“Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers?” JJ grinned, “Have you guys not seen that film?” He started trying to explain it, but you turned to the other two.

“So, I’m going down, right?” you asked.

“What?” John B asked, “No?”

“Look,” you gestured to the three of them. “We have two muscly surfer bros, Pope, and me. Y’all are strongest, Pope’s the smartest, and I’m the lightest. It makes sense.” They shared a look. “And based on experience, the best at getting out of stressful situations. If the mission gets cut short, I’ll be the last out, and as the fastest, probably still the most likely to get away.”

“Y/N.” JJ shook his head. “We don’t know what’s down there.”

“Gold.” you said, “And this isn’t about me. It’s for JB. Let me do this.”

“Fine.” John B nodded, helping you into the harness.

“Jay,” You turned to him, “I’ll be fine.”

“Be safe.” He muttered.

“Now who’s being a sap?” you grinned, “How deep do you think this is, Pope?”

“I don’t know.” he shrugged.

“Great.” You nodded, nerves building. You got on the pulley, you feet guiding you as they began to lower you. “Boys, I have one request. Don’t drop me.”

They pretended to, causing you to jolt a few inches down. You laughed your nerves off. “You’re gonna die first,” you said to JJ, “For sure.”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk @jjmaybankswife @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @sxcretinhuman @alexa-playafricabytoto @angvelics @badwolf00593 @coloradogirl07 @mendesmaybank @jiaraendgame

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years

Text

“illusion”

Chapter 11

Link to the Ao3 work

WARNING: Very Spicy chapter 0.0

Another warning: there is a *brief* mention of something traumatic that happened to MC in the past. It's pretty clear what happened even though I didn't state it explicitly.

"Hey! Oh- you going somewhere?"

After sitting in my bed for ten minutes, I finally muster the courage to get up and get dressed. I keep conjuring up reasons against visiting Julius right now, piling up like a huge mountain in my mind; but one BIG reason is outweighing them all. I'm going to get in so much trouble... can I really just walk in there after I embarrassed him earlier?! But, he's so yummy- YUMMY?!?! Shut up! Shut! Up!

Despite the argument between the angel and devil in my mind, I pull on my pajamas and a bathrobe, then turn towards the door.

I don't care if I get in trouble! I'm going to take this opportunity even if it kills me. I've lived too many miserable years, so it's time that I do what I want to do...

As soon as I push to open it, the door swings my way to reveal Alice coming back from the bathroom, and she's immediately suspicious. One look at my face after her question, and she understands, her mouth breaking into a shit-eating grin.

"You're gonna go see him again, aren't you?"

All hope of coherent response is dashed as I struggle to form words. "W-What if I am?" I finally reply, crossing my arms and looking away.

Alice giggles as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. "Good for you!!! But you have some explaining to do~" She pokes me teasingly in the side, earning an undignified whine from my lips. She knows all of my most ticklish spots. "I did NOT expect to walk in to see you in his bed last night. Also, did you see his bed head? That was so cute~"

"Yes, of course I saw his bedhead." I give up on leaving for the time being and sink back onto my bed. If I get stuck here for much longer, I'm going to lose my initiative. "I slept with him, after all."

"AHHHH!" Alice squeals and suddenly gets right up in my face. "Tell me! What happened!? How on earth did you get him!? Julius is, like, the crown jewel of men! I knew you had it in you but this is huge!!! How was it? What did his dick look like?! Is he better than Lawrence??!"

"Ah! Slow down! I-I can't tell you any specifics-" I laugh nervously as her questioning finally ceases. God, I wish I didn't have to lie about this... Maybe I should just tell her the truth? After all, all those attacks were just in my head, right? But for some reason, I can't bring myself to give up on the guise... just in case... "It was... er- good?" To be honest, I don't know what "good sex" entails so I can't get very specific here. "But... I mean, it's still sort of... happening..." I can't help but smile, my heart doing a backflip in my chest. Maybe tonight... it'll happen for real. And I won't have to lie anymore. "I went to thank him for taking care of me the other night, and he invited me to sit with him for a while... and..."

"You didn't sit with him for very long, did you?" Alice gives me a cheeky smirk, rubbing her chin as she mulls it over. "You're really something... I can't believe it. Elia is going to be so jealous once this goes public-"

"Ah, public? You know I can't make anything public right now..." The reality of the situation starts to fade into my happy, horny haze, Lawrence's scowling face appearing in my mind. "If anyone hears about this-"

"I know, I know." Alice takes my hand and offers me a sweet smile. "I need to be more careful about keeping my mouth shut... Elia is onto you for sure. I promise I'll keep your secret."

I let out a little sigh of relief. "Thank you, Alice-"

"As long as you tell me all the details!" Alice giggles and slaps me on the back a little harder than she had to. "Now! Go get your man!"

"Alright, alright!" I grin back and get back on my feet, smoothing out my robe. "I'll see you... later."

"Hehe, you better have a good time!"

With one last wink, Alice opens the door and shoves me out into the hallway, leaving me to walk alone to the officer's hall.

Oh god...

There's no avoiding it now; my feet are carrying me right up to Julius. Once I arrive at his room...

What's even my plan? Jump him immediately? Or try and ease into it? I guess I can start by apologizing for today... maybe I can offer to make it up to him? Ugh, that's too corny! I don't want him to think I'm promiscuous or anything...

Suddenly, I blink, and I'm already there. Julius's door stands ominously in front of me, a light under the door revealing activity in the room inside.

Here I am... let's do this... I can do this!

Sucking in a breath, I reach up and knock on the door.

Three agonizing seconds later, it opens, and my first reaction is to instantly die. "Oh, hi! I was wondering when you were going to come up."

Julius stands there, smiling down at me as if the event 15 minutes ago never happened, wearing a bathrobe that he's clearly not wearing anything under. It takes every braincell in my body to tear my eyes away from the bit of chest peeking out of the fabric (he's got a little bit of blonde hair there... it's hot) and back up to his eyes in a timely fashion. A moment later, his words hit me. O-Oh? You expected me?" Oh god. His mouth twitches, almost into a more smug smile, but it only lasts a moment. Was I that obvious?

"Yeah! You said you didn't trust Alice, right? I didn't think you were going to stay in your room, so..."

... oh.

"Oh!" So, I wasn't obvious? Or maybe I was, and he's just teasing me now. Julius chuckles at my blank expression before stepping aside and motioning for me to come into his room. "Thank you..."

"My pleasure." Pleasure. His words cause a pathetic little shiver to run down my arms. I awkwardly walk over to the couch and sit down, my legs crossed at the ankles. Come on, stay calm! Remember the adrenaline from earlier...

I squeeze my eyes shut and conjure up the heavenly image I was blessed with earlier. Julius, soaking wet, in that little towel, towering above me-

"Are you alright?"

Oops! My eyes pop back open and Julius is standing right in front of me, hands on his hips. I stifle a little scream and quickly nod. Shit! Too much! "Ah- yes, I'm fine, I'm fine, aha-" I rub my face nervously, avoiding his eyes and every other part of his body. He doesn't say anything for a moment, but the silence is so heavy it nearly starts to suffocate me.

This tension...

It's unlike anything I've ever felt with Lawrence. Sex was a chore for me, something I had to do for him because it was my duty. But now... I'm the one who wants it. And I want it more than anything else...

Does he... want it too?

This all happened so fast, over just a couple days. Just last night, I told him my secret, and he accepted me wholeheartedly, bringing us closer together than ever before. Can just one day of this closeness escalate so quickly?

It feels so right... I'll be screwed if anyone finds out, especially Lawrence, but every inch of the universe is telling me to do this.

"Would you like a drink?"

"...yeah. Please."

We sit there together on the couch in silence, and I steal little glances at him every time I sip the glass of wine he graciously gave me. Once, I catch him looking at me, and we both avert our eyes as quickly as we can. The wine is bitter in my mouth, but feels nice and warm as soon as it hits my stomach. Slowly but surely, the silence becomes more comfortable, maybe because of the alcohol. My heart starts to beat a little fast, and I finally draw in a breath in preparation to speak.

"So... I wanted to apologize."

Julius looks over at me, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Huh? What for?"

"For this morning..." I shake my head, guilt starting to bubble up again like a hot spring. Hot springs... damn, I'd like to go to a hot spring with Julius sometime- HOLD ON. Don't think about that right now!!! "The Captain... I'm sure you must feel very embarrassed."

"Embarrassed? Not at all! There's nothing embarrassing about helping a friend out." Friend? Oof. My stomach turns slightly at the word.

"I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if you were," I answer, staring at my wine glass to avoid his gaze. "You took my side, and Hervey just... shot us down."

"...of course I took your side."

His answer isn't hesitant, it's more sure than any phrase I've heard before. I glance over at him quickly to see him staring pensively at the ground. One of his hands rests heavily upon his knee, and I can't help but feel that it's resisting the urge to touch me.

"I still believe you, you know. Hervey is an ignorant old man who doesn't want to face the truth. There's bad eggs in this squad, and I'm going to smoke them out. After you ran off, I went right back to his office and told him that."

Julius finally looks over at me, and his grim expression melts into that warm, gentle smile. Those lips, and those little dimples... they make me weak.

"Something terrible happened to you, and I won't let them win. You're... special to me. And this isn't the first time someone special to me has been hurt this way."

...special? I blink, staring into his eyes as he speaks. His friend who died... I wonder-

"I'm not going to give up on you. I'm with you to the end."

I suddenly become aware that, somehow, his hand moved over, and is now holding mine. I didn't even notice the movement, I was so entranced by his words, but now he's touching me-

My lack of reaction suddenly hits him, and his hand quickly lets go. "Ah- well-" He laughs nervously, a light blush suddenly appearing on his cheeks. "I mean-"

Without really thinking about it, I reach out and grab his hand before he can retract it all the way, and he freezes mid-sentence.

"... Julius... do you really think I'm special?"

It's inconceivable. Julius, who's basically a perfect man, a powerful mage, and vice Captain... he thinks that I'm special?

He looks almost as nervous as I feel as he finally answers.

"Of course I do... maybe this is not my place to say... I know you're engaged and all... but..."

His voice trails off as he looks up to gaze into my eyes again, where he can see just the slightest glimmer of...

...joy.

I lean in just slightly, and he does too, mirroring my movement without taking his eyes off of mine.

We're going to do it... I'm actually going to do it-

But then, he hesitates, for just a moment.

"...your fianc-"

I don't want to hear about my fiance. I don't want to hear anything. So I cut him off by closing the distance, my lips hitting his to halt his words. Julius freezes up, a little surprised that I made the final move.

It feels like time has stopped. This room doesn't exist anymore. The couch doesn't exist anymore. All there is are his eyes, widened and staring back into mine. But then, finally, even they close, and I close mine as well, letting everything melt away except the warmth from his lips. An arm quickly wraps around me and pulls me closer, so secure and safe, I forget about all the problems plaguing me.

It's bliss. Ecstasy. My first kiss with Lawrence ended with him shoving his tongue down my throat, but Julius is slow and calm, his lips just barely moving against mine yet commanding them perfectly. One of my hands clutches his arm while the other slides up his chest, relishing in the strong, firm muscles there that vowed to protect me. The sight of his skin before made me shut down, but I feel oddly pensive now that I finally have my hands on him.

He's so...

"...perfect."

"Hmm?"

I open my eyes as he pulls back just a little, the word rasping out from the kiss. Julius's eyes crack open a little, and he smiles at me tenderly, one of his hands coming up to caress my cheek. "You're perfect... so perfect." I shiver a bit as his hand slides over my back before hooking around my waist. With one smooth movement, he pulls me onto his lap, our bodies pressed so, so close together. I open my mouth wordlessly as our hips slot together, and-

"I saw how you were looking at me earlier." His voice is suddenly right in my ear as he leans in to kiss teasingly up my neck, and I nearly spasm as his lips ghost around the shell of my ear. His eyebrows pop up for a moment at the reaction, and I feel his grip tighten. "Don't worry... the feeling is mutual..."

"...oh?" It's taking a lot to remain calm right now, opposing forces willing me to either go limp with bliss or start tearing away at him immediately. "I don't know what you're talking about, Julius~"

I feel the hair on his arm stand up at the sound of his name on my lips, barely a whisper. Without much warning, his hand suddenly slides down and grabs a generous handful of my ass, causing me to cry out softly and jerk against his body. I quickly feel my face heating up as he chuckles at the impulse. "You shouldn't tease other men while you have a fiance, you know," Julius whispers in my ear again, having turned the tables with just one movement. His words and touches are still so gentle, but there's a firm undertone to them, letting me know that I'm right where he wants me. "That's so naughty... who knows what I'll do to you?"

"Maybe... you'll do exactly what I want you to do."

It's the truth. Julius pulls back to look at my face again, an almost giddy grin on his face that's both cute and sexy. He's been waiting for this, hasn't he? Waiting for me... I can't help but grin right back. Without another word, our lips crash into each other again, more hungry and heated than before. Julius lets out a soft groan and unexpectedly bucks his hips against mine, drawing a small whimper. Ow... god, he's- oh- My mind starts getting fuzzy as soon as I realize that he's... really turned on right now. His kisses turn almost desperate the longer we paw at each other, one of his hands gripping my ass while the other closes around the back of my neck, holding me there as his lips and tongue just... ravage me.

Ah... this is actually happening...

I rub my hips down into his, which spurs him to suddenly pull his lips from mine. "Look at you... bad girl." He chuckles a little as the phrase halts my movements, and he takes the opportunity to grab the hand that rests on his chest and drag it down his body. "At least do it properly~"

I don't even have to look down to know that he's already pulled his robe apart. My eyes stay fixed on his chest, not daring to travel down his perfect abs as he guides my hand down further... and further...

"...oh-"

Julius lets out a soft breath through his parted lips, his hand helping mine close around his thick-

"You feel that?"

"M-Mhm."

Oh my god...

"What do you think?"

"...big..."

That's an understatement.

Another chuckle vibrates his chest, his hand gently moving mine up and down the shaft. As if he can read the worries that suddenly fill my mind, Julius's voice softens just a little bit.

"Don't worry, it's not going to hurt. By the time I fuck you, you're going to be so wet."

W-wet...

With a stifled groan, his hand starts to speed my movements up.

"Your hands are so soft... so delicate..."

My mind is going fuzzy again.

Fuck...

What feels like a moment later, I'm on my back, him hovering above me. I let out a surprised squeak, since I didn't even notice the movement. "Ah! B-Be gentle-"

I blink, and everything comes back into focus. Julius looks... concerned, almost scared? His robe is tied up again, and he lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh god... are you alright?"

"...what?" I try to sit up, but my head spins and I flop back down. "Wait, what happened? Did we-"

"You passed out, I think..." Julius's hand strokes my hair softly, his expression not changing. "You just suddenly went all cold and limp, and you didn't respond to your name-"

He keeps talking, but the words start to slur together.

I... passed out? What? Why? I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all. It was so hot, being there on his lap with him whispering those dirty things in my ear...

But...

"Hey, hey, don't cry! Ah!"

Julius freaks out for real this time as tears suddenly bubble up from the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry! I-I shouldn't have pushed you so far, this is my fault, please-"

"H-Huh?" Julius looks like he's about to start crying too, and I quickly come to my senses. "No! No! It's not your fault, I-"

Wait, why am I crying? Why did I pass out? I wanted this so bad, but why was I so...

Scared?

It hits me a moment later.

...oh...

"Julius...?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you just... hold me?"

"Yes, of course."

Before I know it, his arms are around me again, holding me close, but this time there's no heated moments... it's chaste. Comforting. Safe...

More tears leak out.

"I'm sorry for scaring you like that... that's never happened before."

"It's alright. I shouldn't have made you touch me... it wasn't right-"

"No, no, it was right. I wanted to." I squeeze my eyes shut. "It's just... I think... my body just sort of... shut off..."

Julius is silent for a moment, his hand still stroking my hair softly. "...do you know why?"

"...yeah."

Lawrence...

The tears start to get hot. Bitter.

"My fiance... he's five years older than me... so I had to grow up a lot faster than I should have..."

I don't really need to say any more. I bite my lip to stifle more tears as the arms around me tighten protectively.

"That's horrible..."

I bury my face in his chest, just relishing his warmth.

But, Julius... do you have any idea how much you've helped? Just by being here?

"I'm so sorry. I'll be more careful next time, okay?"

Next time...

For some reason, my face starts to heat up with shame.

"Right... I-I should get going."

"What? I thought you were spending the night here-"

"No one's gonna murder me in my bed, Julius."

I start to pull away, but his grip is much too tight. My weary, exhausted body can't muster the strength to free myself right now.

"No, you're staying here. I can sleep on the couch of you want, but I don't want to put you in danger."

His lips press against my forehead for a just a moment, but it's enough to make my heart flutter. Such a brief yet tender gesture... yet more love than I've ever received from Lawrence.

Love...

That word scares me.

"Alright, fine." I sigh and pull away to scowl up at his handsome face. "You can sleep with me if you want... just please put on some pajamas!"

Despite the seriousness of the moment before, we both burst out into giggles, and I close my eyes when he leans his forehead against mine. "We can talk about all this later... but just know..." His hand squeezes mine gently.

"I'm very, very happy."

His words stick with me long into the night, after we both curl up under his covers for a long sleep. I've never actually slept next to someone before, but it's nice...

Yet, I can't shake the dread that laced this whole evening.

Please... I'm praying... let all this turn out okay.

I finally drift off to sleep, Julius's light snoring soothing my mind as much as his strong arms around me.

To be continued...

Was this chapter okay? 0.0 LMK what you think!

#fic #illusion #julius novachrono x reader #spicy

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years

Text

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 4

[Erik Killmonger x Black OC]

Word Count 5.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Erik has a meeting one morning to discuss the upgrades he has planned for key components of the new model Boeing airplane that is set to begin manufacturing early the following year. Erik stood at the sink in the master bathroom reciting lines to himself that he had prepared with notes on his phone.

“As you can see, the planes trajectory following take off can be more smoothly….more smoothly...smoother? Uhh-- SHIT!”

Erik curses to himself as the blade angled in the wrong direction, cutting his jaw.

“You ok in there baby?” Kimara calls out from the bedroom.

Erik watches the blood begin to bubble and drip onto his shirt before he could get a tissue to catch it.

“Fuck! Yeah...I’m aight.” Erik calls back.

Kimara is putting on an earring when she walks in to see him. “Oh damn, Erik. You cut yourself today of all days?.” Kimara reaches for the tissue to survey the damage.

“Ain’t it some shit? I gotta be at the office in one hour and I fucking maim myself and stain my fucking shirt.”

“Ohh, now stop.” Kimara pats his chin as the blood begins to clot instead of run. “At least now you have an excuse for the bald spot right around there.”

Erik pins her arms down giving her slight shake. “What I tell you bout that?”

Kimara cracks up uncontrollably. “HAHA! About what?!”

Erik stares her down sticking his chin in her face. “Say it again, I dare you…”

Kimara bites her lips choking back her laughter. “I meant to say...you look very handsome.”

“Uh huh.” Erik says unconvinced but satisfied.

“So now the white men with toupees can swap Rogaine recommendations.” Kimara adds swiftly.

“YOUGONNAADDTHATWHILEIGOTYOUSNATCHEDUP??!!!” Erik barks at a cackling Kimara, tickling her neck and the sides of her torso mercilessly.

“OK! OK! You finna make me pee, STAHP!” Kimara orders in between breaths.

Erik backs off eventually, checking his chin self consciously. “You playing too much this morning. Since this your week for laundry, make sure you don’t forget the softener this time. That shit smell good as hell to let it sit.”

Kimara goes over to the toilet to relieve herself, leaning on her knees as she regains her composure. “Whatever. You got time to eat something before you go?”

Erik pulls off his shirt in all studded and scarred glory. “Nah, I took too much time at the gym this morning, so Imma have to pick somethin up later on.”

Kimara flushes and goes to her sink rinsing her hands. “Ok. Let me know when you get off, I wanna go out.”

Erik pulls out an new shirt from his closet to put on. “Aight bet. You got a place in mind?”

Kimara thinks a moment. “Not really, but I’ll look up some stuff we can come to a decision on.”

Erik shakes his head. “Uh uh say less. I got you. Lemme surprise you with somethin good for once, ok? You got enough on your plate, imma fill it with something tasty, ok?”

“Oh my God, you being corny, but I like it. Thank you…” Kimara says sweetly with smile to match. Erik pulls her to him for a kiss and a goodbye smack on her ass as he finished up and headed out for the day.

Erik’s meeting with the board went on practically without a hitch. Erik was always more nervous during preparation than when it came down to performance. His presentation ran according to his plan and all the old white men looking back at him seemed slightly above average in intrigue over what he had to say. No one was ever too excited for the meetings unless lunch was included, which today it wasn’t. But by the end he got a round of applause and a series of questions that he answered effortlessly. When the meeting was dismissed, the cordialities and congratulations were passed around to Erik which he took lukewarmly. He’d been doing this long enough to know that a handshake and a smile does not a deal make.

“Hey Erik, great presentation today son. You really knocked it outta the park with this one.” Edward Hawkins, the engineering department head and Erik’s boss, says to him.

Erik nods appreciatively. “Sure thing. I looked as deep into it as I could and I’m pretty proud of the outcome.”

Edward subconsciously brushes his comb-over over. “Yeah, it shows, the details were amazing and your stats very appropriate. I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard from Dave tomorrow morning with a deal to move forward with a couple things you proposed today.”

“I won’t hold my breath for news that quick, but drinks on you if that’s the case.” Erik claps Edward on his back and goes to leave.

“Oh, Erik! I did want to talk to you about something. I was talking with some of the board members and we thought you might work better with a team, just one extra partner to kind of share the load.”

Erik puts his hands in his pockets walking slowly to Edward. “Whatchu mean?”

Edward stutters. “Well I-I mean it's a lot of research and money riding on what you do so to protect you and the company, we feel having a teammate with you would be beneficial!”

“Who you want me with?” Erik asks curtly.

“Uh, Bryan actually.” Edward says nervously.

Erik scoffs. “Your son? The intern?”

Edward gets defensive quickly. “Now hang on, he is an entry level employee now and he went to Brown, he has the mental capacity to keep up with you. You think?”

“I don’t think so, nah.” Erik adds.

Edward sighs. “Well hell, Erik. I don’t know what to tell you. But this isn’t an if but a when situation so I just wanted to give you a heads up so you weren’t blindsided.”

“Cut the bullshit man and tell me what’s this really about. I been handling mine, no problem. I thought y’all didn’t have the budget for hiring new people any damn way.” Erik rebuttals. He knew the white folks around there complain most about money. Edward wasn’t gonna pull this over on him so fast.

“It’s not technically a hiring, just a promotion.”

“Ohhhh, that’s nice. Well since I’m babysitting his ass, I expect a heavier drop in bank account, and that ain’t a promise, issa threat.” Erik warns, walking towards the glass doors.

“Oh! Erik, come on! You’re expecting a helluva lot outta me here.” Edward calls out.

“I know you good for it. Make it happen.” Erik walks out leaving Edward to ponder his proposal.

The meeting was the biggest portion of his day, and judging from his calendar, he is free the rest of the day. Erik texts Kimara to see if she’d be down to go out still while he attempts to read her mind for a perfect evening ahead.

In the meantime, Erik calls his cousin to pester. “Aye T! The hell you doin nigga?”

T’Challa sighs deeply. “Yes, N’Jadaka. How have you been?”

“Pretty good right now. I got through with work early so I’m tryna get ready to go out.”

This elicits and even biggers sigh from T’Challa. “N’Jadaka, there is no way I can go out with you again this week. I doubt I would want to for the rest of the year to be honest.”

“Not with you, fuck you mean? I’m talking about Kimara!” Erik says.

“Ohh, well then that is good. You both are doing well?” T’Challa’s tone brightens suddenly at the relief of not getting blasted drunk in the club again.

Erik approaches his office, closing the door and the blinds. “Yeah man, I tell you! These past few days have been so good man, we vibing for real.”

“That is great to hear! She deserves some stress free days concerning all you have planned to do together.”

“Yeah, we haven’t heard back from my doc about the results yet so it’ll be any day. But she hasn’t even brought up nothing bout it. No text reminders about ovulating and shit, no scheduled sex, just regular spontaneous freakin that-”

“Eh eh, N’Jadaka you are overdoing it again!” T’Challa warns.

Erik scoffs putting his feet up on his desk. “Shit my bad. I thought we were having a moment.”

“No your thoughts and desires were having a moment. So on that note, and keep it clean, what do you and Kimara have planned to do tonight?”

“That’s the thing man. I’m still tryna figure it out. I’m bout to pull up some four and five star spots so she can get all cute and fancy for a nigga, you know?” Erik powers up his computer to being his search.

“Doesn’t she usually Asian foods?” T’Challa asks.

“Yeah, them beepbeebop meals and shit? She loves the fuck outta all the side dishes they give with the meal. More bang for the buck she says, but we ain’t been together….probably since we been married.”

“Bibimbap. But good, there’s a Korean grill place that opened up downtown you might want to try with her. I met with Nakia there recently and it was pretty good.”

“Hold UP! You and Nakia went out? Nigga, details!” Erik says excitedly.

“I have asked you countless times to stop calling me that. But yes we did, only to go over ideas about the outreach center .”

“Annnd?” Erik asks.

“Erik…” T’Challa mimicks Erik, but in a stern tone.

“Ooh, ok, you serious using my government name. I see you. So are you still fucking that one girl from the club?”

“I’m hanging up.” T’Challa says.

“Wait wait, you can’t talk to me about that either?”

“I don’t parade my conquests for everyone to hear about.”

“Aha, so y’all still fucking. Ok, well knowin your ass, she must be a serious situation now. Especially if you ain’t giving Nakia the time of day.” Erik says matter-of-factly.

T’Challa hesitates before answering. “We are considering things still, but it is an appropriate adult partnership. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Well at least you gettin something on the side while you waiting for scraps at Nakia’s door. Listen, what’s the name of that Korean place?”

“Palmi, it is not an uptight place but she will enjoy the atmosphere and food, I’m sure.”

Erik types in the place by name and reads over the reviews. “Cool, this should work. Thanks man.” Erik’s phone dings with a notification from Kimara confirming their night out.

“Ok T, Imma let you go. I got some time to pick some roses up or something to give her.” Erik says getting ready to go.

“Get calla lilies instead.” T’Challa offers.

Erik pauses. “What? She likes them more? I got her roses on Valentines, she liked them just fine.”

“Exactly, that was that manufactured holiday Americans love so much. Lilies are sweeter, more elegant, sends a better message.”

Erik nods. “Ok T, I might try that after all, good looking out.”

Erik clicks off the phone call with T’Challa and makes his way home to get changed. Kimara was still at the studio so he texts her to meet him at the Korean restaurant in an hour. There is a florist up the street from his job that he stops by to get Kimara a bouquet of ten lilies with some eucalyptus leaves.

When he gets home, Erik takes his time washing the funk of white elitist off of his skin and slips into his real nigga attire for the day: dark navy canvas jacket over his chocolate colored Henley with black distressed jeans and timbs. Erik spritz some cologne, just enough to make her lean into him to get a better whiff. He refreshed his locs, banding them atop his head and giving himself a once over, feeling his excitement build as the time drew near. Erik wanted his lady to know she was appreciated and tonight would highlight that for them.

Pulling up to the restaurant, Erik saw her car was already in the parking lot, a soft glow through the tinted windows indicated she is sitting and waiting for him. Erik gets out the car with flowers behind his back as he crouches, hopping over to the back end of the car. He glides toward her driver’s side window before knocking loudly against it, causing her to honk the horn in fright.

“Dammit, Erik!” Kimara shouts rolling down her window.

Erik leans into the window. “Ma’am, there’s no loitering in the parking lot. Spaces for patrons of the restaurant only.”

Kimara turns on the light in her car to check her makeup in her phone. “Made me smudge my lips.”

“That’s gonna be a problem you have all night. Com’ere.” Erik pesters Kimara who gives him a light smooch before reapplying.

Erik opens her car door, helping her out of it. “Babe, you ain’t had to fuck up the game like this! I thought you was coming home from work, I know I ain’t let you out the house in this!”

Kimara wore some denim cut off shorts, making a dream out of her deep toned thighs with flesh colored platform sandals adorning her feet. Her voluptuous frame stood out as her best accessory hugged by her ‘COCO Butter’ baby tee with a scoop neck that let her girls breathe a bit.

Pulling back her wavy 18 inches back, Kimara shrugs. “So what about it? A queen comes prepared for any meet and greet, understand me?”

Erik rubs his chin, not able to take his eyes off any part of her. “That ain’t a fucking problem one bit baby. I just hope these shits don’t wilt from you showing them up tonight.” Erik takes the bouquet from behind him, giving them to Kimara.

“Awww, Erik! These are so gorgeous! And…” She gives them a good sniff. “MM! Good call on that eucalyptus. How did you know I love me some lilies?”

Erik takes her hand and leads her to the restaurant. “I know what my lady like. That’s why we finna feed my Mara well so she can go to bed with a smile on her face, you hear me?”

Kimara giggles. “Good cuz I’m starving too.”

A hostess greets the, warmly before setting them at a table and giving them menus. Erik and Kimara look over the options.

“The pork belly is good for sure, but the marinated bulgogi never fails me either…” Kimara mutters, looking over their options.

“Get whatever you want Mara, you know this better than me. If it’s meat, I’ll eat.” Erik professes.

Kimara calls over a waitress and asks for her two faves to order. “And couple bottles of soju please.”

“What’s a soju?”

Kimara grins sneakily. “Just a little something to warm us up, you know?”

“Ahh, ok. Tryna take advantage of me. I ain’t falling for it neither.” Erik smirks.

Kimara puts a hand up to his face. “Skrrrrt! In ya dreams!”

Erik takes her hand, kissing her knuckles. “You right, woman of my dreams all day every day.”

Kimara rolls her eyes but can’t stop her smile. “So damn corny. I guess all this good mood is cuz your presentation went well?”

Erik screws his face up. “I can be happy to see you too! But...a little bit of work shit too. Mara, I KILLED that shit. Those whites didn’t phase me not one time.”

Kimara gives him a quick applause. “How soon til you know what’ll stick for the roll out next year?”

“Ed made it seem like tomorrow, but realistically I’d give it the end of the week.”

The waitress brings out a tray of little dishes with appetizers for them to share and their bottles of soju with some glasses. Erik and Kimara get their chopsticks ready.

“What’s that?” Erik points to one of the dishes.

“That’s gamja jorim. It’s like potatoes in soy sauce, really good!” Kimara picks a cube of potato up, moaning at the first bite as she bounces in her seat.

Erik tries it out but makes a face. “It’s cold!”

“It’s supposed to be!” Kimara says laughing at him. Erik opens a bottle of soju and takes a swig.

“Yo! You’re supposed to drink it like a shot! You not tryna drive home??” Kimara exclaims.

Erik sets the bottle down, mulling over the flavor. “That’s not bad, weak, but not bad.”

“It’s not weak, it’s just smooth. Your taste buds so used to drinking gasoline, you don’t know good liquor.”

“Not too much on my taste, Miss Thing Thang. I know what’s good, like some meat right now.” Erik whines scoping the restaurant out like it was supposed to fall from the sky.

Kimara tastes a couple more of the other appetizers. “Have some of the kimchi! It’s that red cabbage over there.”

Erik does so, to little fanfare. “I said MEAT Mara!”

On cue, the waitress comes out with a cutting board and the raw meat laid out in two piles, and a side of three dipping sauces for each of them. She runs some oil along the grill in front of them and places some meat on the hot plate, flipping them and plating some for them before wishing them luck and dismissing herself.

Erik sits there flabbergasted. “Imma kills this nigga.”

Kimara places more meat on the griddle. “The pig and cow are already dead, bruh.”

“I mean T’Challa. He recommended this place and he ain’t told me that we gotta cook shit ourselves. That meat is $30 a pop! We coulda went to the store and ate at home!” Erik fumes, taking his bottle of soju up for another gulp.

Kimara thinks about this a moment. “Well I think you’re crazy. I’m thanking T’Challa then when we get home, cuz I guess your imagination lives inside a Big Mac box. Eat!”

Kimara shows Erik hot to lay the meat out and when to tell that it’s ready to take off and eat. After a few pieces Erik is setting up the sliced meats himself and plating them for him and Kimara.

Kimara gives him a handclap of praise. “That’s it! See, This the only time I’ve gotten you to cook for me. Look at God.”

Erik hiccups. “I cook for you before, lyin ass.” Erik clinks a plate down before sloppily eating a piece of marinated beef like a spaghetti noodle.

Kimara takes a sip of soju from her glass. “Oh shit. Erik, gatdammit! You drank too much?”

Erik sits up with a big smile. “Never too much, never too much!” he sings.

Kimara calls over the waitress. “Now I’m gonna have to get up early and get you over here to come get your car. Fucking…” She gives the waitress her credit card and starts to put on her coat.

Erik reaches for Kimara across the table. “Baby….baby...babe….you know this meat was real good.”

Kimara swats his hand. “Yeah, I told you it would be.”

“I know somethin that taste better though.” Erik says before cackling out loud. “I can still eat baby, just SAY THE WORD!”

Kimara breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the waitress come back with her card.

“Thanks for coming you guys! Have a good night!”

“Thank you miss lady, we ‘preciate chu.” Erik says. He looks over at Kimara writing. “Aye! Don’t tip, she ain’t cooked shit.”

Kimara shushes him. “Damn, Erik, shut up! This is a restaurant, she still served us!” Kimara finishes writing out the ticket and her and Erik walk out the door to her car. Erik leans back in the passenger seat until he is completely leveled out. “Come on, sit for daddy…” Erik reaches over Kimara in the driver’s seat.

“Erik, I gotta drive, just go to sleep or something.” Kimara says, backing out of the space.

“My wife got the fattest ass, fattest pussy, fattest titties. Shit too good to let go to waste. That’s why I’m taking you home girl…”

“No, I’m taking you home.” She corrects.

“...You my leftovers. I’m eat that ass up later.” Erik laughs to himself at his dinner puns.

Erik sits his seat upright again after a while. “Mara, I’m sorry.”

Kimara looks over at him. “What’re you talking about?”

Erik leans on her shoulder. “I wanna do right. I wanna be good to you.”

“Aww, you are baby!”

“But you deserve it all, putting up with my bullshit.” Erik mutters.

“You just got a little drunk. I’m not mad at you.”

“I ain’t talkin bout now. I shouldn’t have left you.”

Kimara tenses up.

“Those last days were so good, but I wasn’t ready for good. I didn’t want you cuz you made things nice. But I wasn’t a nice person yet.” Erik says.

“Y-yes you were. I knew you were, that’s why you came back.”

“I wanted to die. T didn’t let me. If it wasn’t for your forgiveness I probably woulda…” Erik slumps down in her lap.

“Watch it Erik!” Kimara exclaims.

Erik twists his face to her stomach to kiss it. “That’s why Imma make us a family. I don’t care what a doctor say, we finna have a cute ass baby. I owe it to you.”

Kimara is silent for a while. “You don’t OWE me a baby Erik.”

“I do, I do. I’ll do whatever to get this done right.”

“Erik, shut up, ok?” Kimara says softly.

Nine Years Ago (Revisit)

Erik had been gone a month, and Kimara had no one she could talk to about it. Her days working at the local community center to teach music to kids was her only escape from the day to day.

“Ok Lala, from the top. Caro mio ben, Credimi almen…” Kimara sat at the piano going over the melody as her sophomore student Lala handled the lyrics. She handled the Italian pronunciations expertly, however getting the traditional operatic tone was proving difficult..

As Kimara played along a cramp in her stomach made her stop playing abruptly to clutch the source of the pain.

“Ms. Walker? Is something wrong?” Lala asked with concern.

Kimara felt horrible all of a sudden as her condition progressed. “No….well, not with you. I’ve got to stop this rehearsal early. Keep practicing on your own and I’ll see you next week.”

Kimara made her way to her car, rooting through her purse for her phone but ran across the prescription pill bottle first. Staring at the label with her name and instructions, she thinks what may have happened had she not gotten them. Could she have gone on without taking them?

Just then a wave of nausea hit her as she opened her car door to kneel out and puke all over the asphalt. The stinging in her throat from the force and volume of it all made her cough uncontrollably, stimulating her gag reflex even more. Kimara gets back in the car, cursing herself for the predicament she has been put in. This was supposed to be the easier way, at this rate she may probably should’ve rethought things.

Sitting in silence for her body to settle down, Kimara’s phone rings, breaking her calm. She finds it in her purse but sees it’s an unknown number.

“Hello?” She asks gruffly, voice strained from vomiting.

“Yes, is this Kimara?” The voice asks.

“Who is this?”

“I am T’Challa, Erik’s cousin? I don’t know if he ever mentioned me but-”

Kimara perks up at the name. “You said you’re Erik’s family? You’re from Africa?”

He sighs. “So he hasn’t told you about me then.”

Kimara grows tense. “Why hasn’t he? But first of all, why are you calling me? Where’s Erik?”

“He is with me, in Wakanda, for a few weeks now.”

“What?? He actually made it there…” Kimara’s voice trails off as she thinks of how Erik told her about the stories of his home, the lost family he was a part of, and claiming his part in it. “I still don’t understand why I’m hearing from you though.”

“He wants to see you Kimara. He wants to talk to you about things, make things right with you.”

Kimara let out a grave laugh. “Ohhh, this is corny as fuck. He is sending his cousin, some foreign dude I ain’t met, to call and ask me to talk to him sounding like a scammer. You tell his ass to bring himself back here on a plane to the States and maybe we will talk. How about that?”

“He can’t do that.” T’Challa says.

“Like hell he can! He got there, he can come back. You calling me? Call him a plane ticket so he can bring his sorry ass back here and say shit to my face. I ain’t crawling nowhere to him. He don’t know what he’s left me with!”

“Kimara, I’m sorry it’s coming out like this, but-”

“I said what I said, T’Challa!” Kimara hangs up in his face. She was fuming as she started her engine and drove off to head home. If Erik only knew….And he always did things like this: do her wrong, then beg to see her and act like nothing was wrong because ‘leave the past in the past’. He smiles his way into her good graces and they’d be cuddled up with her favorite movie and snacks. But this wasn’t college anymore, they were grown now, and he left her vulnerable. Kimara knew they were going to go somewhere this time but he didn’t treat her any different than the girls he ran through in his hoe years. But she was supposed to be different, he convinced her of that. Not anymore, from this day forward.

Kimara pulled up to her place to see a man standing outside of it. It was dark out so she really wasn’t sure who it was, but the deja vu was heavy within her. She slowly stepped out her car and stayed behind it as she shut the door.

“Yeah?” She asked cautiously.

The figure turned around to face her, giving her view of his face. “Kimara, I know this is rude of me to insist, but I have to act on Erik’s behalf. You have every right to be angry, but he needs you right now. I want to help you through that.”

Present Day

The trill of Erik’s phone going off wakes them both up as they take a lazy morning. Kimara barely got a good night’s rest for Erik having gotten too drunk and staggering to bed noisily and sloppily, only then to snore ridiculously loud for almost the whole night. Kimara smacked her pillow at him to stir him but soon as he hit REM sleep, he was Foghorn Leghorn in the sheets.

Kimara rounded off her pillow upside his head once more to get him to pick up his phone, this time Erik has gained more coordination to register his surroundings. He picks up his phone without acknowledging the caller ID.

“Hello?’ Erik asks with a heavy tongue.

“Yes, Good morning Mr. Stevens. This is Doctor Tracy from Jocelyn Elders Fertility Clinic. How are you this morning?”

Erik sits up slowly. “Oh hey, yeah, I think you should be telling me that, right?”

The doctor laughs. “Sure, that’s fair. I would like to speak with you and your wife in person about the results, if you have time this afternoon?’

Erik lightly hits Kimara on her shoulder. “Aye Mara, you got anything to do this afternoon?”

“I always got something Erik, why?” Kimara mumbles.

“The doc wants to see us about my results, but I can schedule it later.”

Kimara shoots up with renewed energy. “Shit! They wanna see us?” Erik nods, covering the mic part of his phone. Kimara motions to him nodding as she gets up and heads to the bathroom.

“Uhh, yeah, this afternoon will work for us.”

At the doctor’s, they sit in a room waiting to be seen. The doctor’s normal office seems as sterile and bland as an examination room with the smell of unidentified solutions and the overpowering whiteness of their surroundings, Kimara’s nerves are on the edge.

“What do you think they’re going to tell us?” She asks.

Erik is leaning on his knees looking blank in his face. “Whatchu mean?”

“I mean, hell, if it was good they would’ve just told us on the phone! Did you fuck up your balls doing your duties overseas and you ain’t told me?”

“Hell nah! Shit like that don’t happen. Females swear guys gets kicked in the balls every other day or somethin.” Erik retorts adjusting himself.

“Well it’s gotta be something. Maybe your time in Africa you got mixed with some shit that didn’t agree with you and wound up making you sterile.”

“Mara, you don’t know anything about Wakanda or vibranium so chill on that theory.”

“Then tell me something I don’t know Erik, cuz you’d be wasting both our time holding back.” Kimara warns.

Erik peers over at her. “The only thing getting wasted is my time and money sitting here cuz ain’t shit the fuck wrong with me.”

Kimara hated when Erik brought up how much he was doing for her by just showing up or dropping some cash on a situation. She wasn’t with him for everything he could do for her, she was with him because she loved being with him, wanted the best for him, and she put in too many years with him to get that notion twisted.

Before she could really let him have it, the doctor walked in.

“Good Afternoon folks. I’m glad you were able to make it on such short notice.” Dr. Tracy greeted them both with a smile and a handshake.

“No problem! We’ve been waiting on these for a little bit so no way would we miss this.” Kimara says, looking over at Erik with a smile, who looked bored with it all.

“Yeah, so whatchu got for us doc?” Erik says scratching his beard noisily.

Dr. Tracy nods. “Of course, so I won’t delay it any further. Erik after reviewing your sample, we found nothing abnormal with your sperm count, their mobility, or make up. You seem perfectly capable of being able to conceive a child with your wife.”

A moment of silence washed over the both of them as they looked wordlessly at one another.

“Soooo, I’m fine? Chamber loaded, no blanks?”

“Erik!” Kimara chides him.

Dr. Tracy chuckles. “It’s ok, I’ve heard all the euphemisms. But you are correct. They are...clear for takeoff!”

“Then why are we not pregnant yet?” Kimara asks in a hollow tone.

“Well, there’s a multitude of scenarios that can contribute to it but what we know right now is that Erik’s sperm is prime for conception and your uterus is beautiful for harboring a baby, just an example of good genetic make up. I would want to be reborn again from you if I had the chance!” Dr. Tracy adds.

Erik grips the bridge of his nose in frustration. “So what do you recommend we do from here?”

“Well honestly I would say to just keep having your regular routine. If you want to keep track of ovulation that’s fine but honestly I wouldn’t put too much pressure on it until it’s been a year of trying. I know they taught us in school it only takes one time, but as we get older and just leaving it up to God, it sometimes takes just that one good day after many for it to happen.”

“Ok. I got the answer I needed. Are we done here?” Kimara says, getting up before she could answer.

“Yes. Like I said folks, this is good news. It means this can still happen naturally and cheaply.” Dr. Tracy says with a slight chuckle that drops to a tight smile when she reads their expressions.

As Erik and Kimara get in her car, Erik starts. “We need a new doctor.”

“What?” Kimara asks with contempt.

Erik taps on his window nervously looking outside. “This one don’t know what she talking bout clearly. How she finna joke about this?”

“I mean, she wasn’t laughing at us, she was trying to make us feel better.” Kimara says.

“Nah, she don’t need defending. She need to give us some real solutions instead of a punchline. This ain’t a night at the Apollo, or is she taking us as a joke cuz we Black?”

“Erik, she gave us good news, right? Are you gonna take any piece of that positivity and just be happy with it? I don’t know why you’re being mean with her.”

Erik scoffs. “Trust me this ain’t mean. I’m just being real. You know these doctors give less of a fuck for us then they do white patients. She would been giving us fertility referrals and brochures and clinics out her ass if we were white. But with us it’s ‘well just keep fucking like you niggers always do’.”

“ERIK! Shut the fuck up! I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you don’t have a damn place to be this upset right now.” Kimara yells, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Erik’s neck practically snaps to face her. “The fuck is-”

“Nah Erik, you been talkin. Soon as we got there you had stank on you, callin her ‘doc’ and talkin all vulgar. You need to quit acting like such a child! I almost think you WISH your balls were empty.”

“Mara, ain’t nobody-”

“AND NOW you wanna say let’s switch doctors, when we been working with her since I first told you I was worried about not getting pregnant yet. She’s spent all this time with us, changing doctors ain’t easy or quick. You know I’m the one that has to carry this right? I’m going to be the one to have to go through treatments if it comes down to it?’

“I know.”

“Nah, you really don’t Erik! You don’t know what this will do to me having to hear this shit over and over again, when this coulda been mine already.”

Erik’s demeanor softens slightly. “What’re you talkin bout?”

Kimara’s face becomes wet with tears. “It wasn’t this hard, you just don’t know. It could’ve been so damn easy, but you won’t let it.”

Erik looks around out the window. “Where we goin Mara?”

“And you got the nerve to blame the doctors? That’s some bullshit nigga, real fucking bullshit.” Kimara stamps on the brake when she reaches the outside of the Korean BBQ place. “Get your damn car! I’m going for a drive, don’t wait up.”

Erik looks at Kimara with concern. “Mara, that’s my bad about the doctor. I just-”

Kimara clicks the unlock button. “Get out Erik!”

Part 5

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisangel @wakanda-inspired@klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718@yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife @bakarisangel

#erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger x black!oc #shakafic #black panther fic #fanfic #will the bell ring

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particulartst · 5 years

Text

Your night (Shawn Mendes x Reader)

Description: The Reader is going to prom and Shawn wants the best night possible for her

(This is my first one shot..feedback and/is requests are much appreciated!!)

It was no secret that Shawn’s entire team didn’t want him going to your senior prom. No matter how hard he tried to negotiate with Andrew, it just wasn’t happening. You sort of knew it from the start and, to be honest, it wasn’t all that big of a deal to you. Everyone pretty much already knew about you and Shawn, and you knew that if you brought him, it’d probably take up at least three quarters of the night for him to take selfies with your entire grade. You contemplated even going to prom, since you knew that people you barely knew were going to be asking you where Shawn is multiple times, having to explain yourself throughout the night. But Shawn really wanted you to go, saying that he missed out on a lot of his high school experiences and doesn’t want you to have the same regrets.

He apologized over and over again, but you always reassured him that everything was fine and that you were just going with a group of friends.

“It’s only one night, Shawn” you reminded him with a smile as you were unpacking groceries.

“But it’s YOUR night! Your senior prom!” Your boyfriend leaned up against the counter top with a pout on his lips. “And its a shame that I can’t be there and make memories with you.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Well WE’LL make plenty of other memories together. I promise. But you need to stop bugging Andrew about it when he’s denied your request for the 30th time” you walk up to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm fine. You got me” he sighed and pecked your forehead. “But can I at least help you pick out your dress?”

—————————

About a week later, he insisted on bringing you to Tiffany, his personal stylist. Her warm smile greeted you at the entrance to her studio as Shawn introduced you.

“Oh so nice to finally meet you, Shawn has told me so much about you.”

She ushered Shawn to a separate room shortly after, his instructions being to make you look like “nothing short of a princess” as he smiled cheekily, sitting down in the designated chair.

Tiffany led you to a room that could very well be mistaken for a royal’s closet. Racks of dresses were literally everywhere, separated by color and designer.

You two got to know each other very quickly. She was so bubbly and funny and so much fun to talk to. You made a mental note of coming to Shawn’s suit fittings for upcoming red-carpet events more often.

“So tell me your prom plans...pre-prom? Date? After-party?” She asked, searching the racks.

“Well” you started with a smile. “I’m going with a group of friends and we’ll probably take some pictures at one of their houses. I’m not a big after-party person, so I’m most likely going to just go home and chill out afterwords”

“Sounds like a good idea” she agreed. “Plus, trust me, going with your girlfriends is the best move.”

After a lot of trial and error, both you and Tiff were positive that you found “the one”: a long, backless, halter dress that was a beautiful pastel-yellow. It’s something you’d have never picked out for yourself, but it flattered your features perfectly. You were never one to flatter yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel like a fairy queen. The both of you were excited and giddy, like little girls after talking to their crush.

She led you outside to show Shawn, the anticipation building in your chest as you wondered his reaction, and boy did he react. His hazel eyes went wide and reflected nothing but pure love and adoration for the beautiful young woman standing before him. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you felt the intensity of his gaze.

“Close your mouth, Mendes. You’ll catch flies” Tiffany teased.

“I’m sorry it’s just...holy fucking shit” he laughed, causing the two of you to laugh with him. He got up from his seat and approached you.

“You like?” You asked, even though you practically knew the answer.

“I’m OBSESSED” he emphasized, slipping his hands around your waist, causing you to break out in goosebumps all over. Neither of you could seem to wipe the smile off of your faces. “You’re absolutely stunning.” He took your hand and lifted it, making you twirl around. It was the cheesiest move ever, but made your heart melt into a puddle. “Tiff, you did it again” he turned to her.

“Did I? I don’t know, seems you both hate it” she joked.

“Thank you so much” you thanked her sincerely “for everything”

“It was my pleasure! Plus I got a new friend out of it.” She winked

—————-

The actual night of your prom was pretty fun, you won’t lie. And when it all came down to it, you were glad you went. You got to release your inhibitions and dance like a complete idiot with some of your best friends. Shawn did cross your mind a few times throughout the night though, especially when you gazed down at the corsage that he had bought you. It made your heart skip a beat. You knew that he would’ve went to the moon and back to be here with you, no matter if he had to take a selfie with the entire student body.

At the end of the night, you headed to Shawn’s place. He had suggested a few nights prior that you could sleep over and make pancakes the next morning. It sounded like heaven, considering the tiring night you just had. It was around 11:30 pm. You got out the spare key that he had given you and let yourself into the house.

“Shawn?” You called out softly into the condo. When you entered, you were almost taken aback. A smile creeped up your face as you realized what was going on. Fairy lights were strung across his living room and two candles flickered on his grand piano, bathing the room with a warm glow. You recognized John Mayer’s voice playing softly from the sound system. Yellow balloons were scattered across the floor and sofa, as well as the room being decorated with daisies...your very favorite flower.

Before you had enough time to process everything around you, Shawn came out from around the corner wearing a tuxedo. “You didn’t text me on your way home!” He smiles at you. “I could’ve had time to put up some streamers and—“

You cut him off with a giant, long kiss on his lips, which he quickly reciprocated. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

When you finally pulled away, you broke out into the stupidest grin. “Shawn, what did you...How on earth..?”

“Tiff told me that you weren’t going to an after prom” he started, taking your hand and leading you towards his living room. “So I figured that we’d have one here. Our own prom. I even got champagne so that we can drink without being caught”. You both giggled as he wrapped his hands around your waist and gazed into your eyes. “Is it too corny?”

You laughed even more. “Yes. But in the best way you could possibly imagine” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders again. He gently swayed you back and forth to the soft beat of the music, his hands spread across your back.

“Good” he pressed his lips onto your temple. “Because you look so beautiful that I would’ve been so jealous if I hadn’t gotten to dance with you tonight.”

Before you could respond, he twirled you around so that you were swaying with your back against his chest and his hands in your hands. He rested his head on your shoulder.

“Too bad you couldn’t have busted out that move at prom”

“I know right?” He responded. “And there’s more where that came from” he dipped you backwards, causing you to let out a surprised yelp, which made him chuckle. He brought you back up with a kiss on your lips.

“You’re pretty crazy, Mendes” you say in almost a whisper inches from his mouth.

“Mm” he hummed, twirling you around like he did in your dress fitting. “maybe, but only for you, my princess”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fluff #shawnmendes #shawn mendes fanfic

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tracies-tales · 6 years

Text

Reprogrammed

The music of the club reverberated through the very soul. It pounded through the ears of the crowd of bodies packed together, most of the patrons either too drunk or high to pay any mind to the heat of so many people in such an enclosed space. And even though Arin was among that crowd, it wasn’t alcohol or drugs that was keeping his mind occupied; it was the android on stage.

It was unlike any model Arin had seen before. They’d programmed countless androids for use as vocalists, but this one stood out. The sparkling blue spandex suit and flowing cape certainly contributed to the captivation. Watching the android’s mass of curly hair bounce in time with its head bobs was equally bewitching.

Arin couldn’t place it, but there was something incredibly human about it. It actually used a range of facial expressions and other swaying body movements as it stood behind an old fashioned microphone. It truly looked alive in front of an audience. The one thing giving it away was the blue circle of LED light on its temple.

Arin had never wanted to own an android more.

Of course having a robot around had its perks. They followed instructions without question, and they did everything to the letter. They were programmed for countless medical procedures, recipes for cooking, and a slew of other useful mechanisms, but Arin had never quite gotten it. Even knowing they couldn’t feel pain or emotions, Arin could never get past how real they looked. He’d also met a handful that were deceitfully human-like in nature, but they were androids who had served the same people for years and learned body language. When an android was fresh out of the factory, they were always a bit stiff until they warmed up to the behavior of their owners.

Arin frowned to himself at the word. He didn’t think he wanted to own anyone, even if that’s what androids were built for. But this model--the DS6969, or Dan--was special. They only brought it out on rare occasions to keep the crowds coming in; it was one of a kind. Whoever had modified the android’s vocals had done a superb job. It was even able to harmonize with itself using multiple layers of vocals coming from one mouth. But, Arin supposed, that was one of the wonders of modern technology.

~~~

“You have to work with me,” the club’s owner, Brian, said. “It’s an exclusive.”

“I know h--it is,” Arin replied. He’d been saving up money in case he ever decided to go through with joining the modern era and invest in an android. “But fifteen thousand is a steep price.”

“There were a lot of modifications put into this machine,” Brian folded his hands on his desk. “I think fifteen is rather generous, considering the amount of revenue it brings in.”

“So can’t you use that revenue to buy a new one?”

“If it were that simple, why don’t you go to the nearest warehouse and buy a cheaper model?”

Arin crossed his arms, “Touche. But I want Dan.”

Brian grinned softly, “You’ve been telling me that for weeks.”

“And I’m only now getting you to budge,” Arin set his hands on Brian’s desk and leaned forward. “I’ll bargain all you like.”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’ll take care of it. So how about this. I’ll let you buy it for ten thousand, on two conditions.”

“Hit me,” Arin said, trying not to sound too excited.

Brian fixed him with his gaze, “You send it back once a week for shows. I can’t just let you steal him from the public. As such, secondly, if I catch wind of you using it elsewhere for other concerts for your personal gain, you lose your right to it.”

Arin pretended to mull this over before saying, “Deal.”

Brian grinned, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

~~~

Arin opened the door to his house, which was a simple but comfortable single-story home. “Here we are,” he said, turning to watch Dan’s expression. It was interesting to see him off stage. He was still wearing the blue uniform; Arin didn’t mind, but it had attracted a lot of unwanted attention on the bus ride.

Dan was behaving as most standard androids, undoubtedly scanning the house as he swept his eyes around the area. Dan smiled, “It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Arin said, kicking off his shoes and heading to the kitchen. “Guess I’m on a bit of a budget after that investment, huh?”

Dan tilted his head, “Your purchase of me, you mean?”

“Yup,” Arin responded. “You didn’t come cheap.”

“People with true talent rarely do,” Dan replied with a small grin.

Arin slowly turned back to him, “Did you just make a sex joke?”

“Is that okay?” Dan asked.

“Well, yeah, I’m just surprised. Androids don’t usually pick up on innuendos and shit.”

Dan giggled, even the laughter musical, “I’m not your average android.”

“You certainly aren’t,” Arin agreed and went back to throwing together a simple sandwich.

As Arin smeared mayo on a slice of bread, he heard Dan ask, “What would you like me to sing?”

Arin blinked and looked over his shoulder, “What?”

“What would you like me to sing?” Dan repeated.

“Oh. Do you want to sing?” Arin asked.

“It’s what I was made for. I had assumed you bought me because you enjoyed listening to me.”

Arin’s brow furrowed as he went back to assembling his dinner, “I mean, I do, but...that’s not all you’re good for.”

Dan nodded and began walking forward, “You’re right. I’m programmed to accommodate many different needs.” Before Arin realized Dan had gotten so close, he suddenly felt hands slide onto his hips from behind. Arin tensed from a mix of shock and a severe case of the stomach flutters as Dan’s lowered voice spoke into his ear, “But those talents are reserved for special buyers.”

“Woah, woah,” Arin grabbed at Dan’s wrists and paused, letting go to awkwardly turn around and grab them again, practically pinned against the counter by the android. Arin said, “That’s...well, it was nice, but that isn’t what I bought you for, either.”

Dan’s eyes narrowed slightly, eyes roaming Arin’s face as he replied, “I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary or jumped to conclusions.”

“You didn’t,” Arin assured, only mildly perturbed by the fact that Dan was making no move to back away, clearly not understanding human boundaries. All the same, he didn’t push Dan away, continuing, “Maybe...we’ll get to testing that some day, but I bought you because I saw potential in you.”

“Potential?”

“Yeah. You know, the ability to grow into something more. You’re an amazing singer, and...I imagine really good in bed, too, but you don’t have to be just a singer or a sex doll for me. I don’t want that for you, unless that’s really all you want to do,” Arin said.

Dan pulled his arms back slowly and thought, appearing to stare at a nondescript point. After a moment of computing, he looked back up at Arin and asked, “What else can I do?”

“Whatever you feel like, really.”

“What sort of things do you do?” Dan asked with a curious grin.

Arin set the second slice of bread on top of his ham sandwich and took a bite, saying, “I draw sometimes, but mostly I play video games. You’d probably be like...stupid good at them.”

“I’ve never tried one,” Dan replied simply.

“Oh, dude,” Arin clapped a hand on Dan’s shoulder, “I know what we’re doing tonight.”

~~~

“Get the key, Arin, the key!” Dan said with growing anticipation.

“I’m trying my best here, this fuckin’ boss is really-NO,” Arin shouted at the screen. “That’s fucking bullshit!”

Dan was laughing at the latest blunder, in which the boss of the level had repeatedly hit Arin until Arin’s avatar fell off a cliff. “It seems the dungeon master will hold on to the key for another day,” Dan said.

“Oh no he won’t, I’m coming in hot,” Arin retorted, gripping the controller tightly and leaning forward on the couch as he restarted the fight.

Dan smirked at Arin and watched him from the corner of his ocular unit as he said, “You could be coming in hot elsewhere.”

“Listen, Daniel, as much as I would love that, I’m a bit busy with mister bitch...tits...thinks he can do whatever he wants Mcgee over here.”

Dan chuckled, “Well, as soon as you’re done with mister Mcgee, I think you’ll have earned a reward.”

“Thanks Dan I’ll keep it in mind,” Arin said quickly as he did his best to focus and not become distracted at the thought of the reward. “Come on, asshole, just--fucking don’t you dare go for the edge I swear to--no, NO! God damnit!” Arin threw his controller and collapsed backwards. “Next time on fuckin’ Game Grumps.”

Dan giggled, covering his mouth and saying, “He’ll get it next time everybody, we promise. But first, some pity sex.”

“I don’t want your pity sex!” Dan allowed Arin to retort before Dan switched off the recording equipment using the wireless connection in his mind. Arin groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. Dan cooed, “Aww, poor guy,” as he wrapped an arm around him.

Arin shifted to lay his head on Dan’s shoulder, mumbling, “This is really hard.”

“You know what else is really hard?” He bit his bottom lip as Arin gave him a tired look before Dan said, “My heart.”

Arin snorted, “What, do you have a heart boner for me?”

“Yeah,” Dan replied, curling his other arm around Arin in a hug. Arin chuckled and fell silent, enjoying Dan’s company in silence for a few moments before Dan said, “You make me feel like I have one.”

Arin blinked and turned to look up at him, “What?”

Dan removed one arm to rub at the port in his chest where his battery was, “A heart. Back at the club, all I was ever good for was entertainment. But here, I feel like...I’m feeling. And I feel like I’m so much more than that.”

Arin said, “Well don’t be silly, Dan. Of course you’re more than that.” He hesitated and set a hand on Dan’s cheek, “I always knew you were more than that.”

Dan leaned his head into Arin’s palm with a soft hum, setting one of his own hands over Arin’s. “I feel free with you,” Dan said quietly.

“Free? To me, it’s more like priceless,” Arin wiggled an eyebrow before they both snorted at the corny joke. It wasn’t until they’d collected themselves that Arin even noticed their mouths were inches apart from each other, and before he knew it, Dan had leaned in for a kiss. And Arin let him, because by now he knew:

It was what Dan wanted.

i’m gonna be honest, if this gets enough attention i’d be more than happy to turn this into a full length ao3 fic. there were so many possibilities i tossed around while writing it; let me know what you think!!

#egobang #detroit become human #au #fic #ficlet #androids #robots #kiss #fluff #wholesome

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laketaj24 · 6 years

Text

Songbook: Erik: Love on the Brain

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Taglist is Open. This chapter is based of of Rihanna: Love on the Brain. If you enjoy my work please be a doll, like, reblog or comment!! I truly appreciate it!!! Thanks for all the feedback last updte y’all are awesome. I don’t own this gif. The italicized text are flashbacks.

Catch UP HERE!!! Masterlist

“Yo E!” His friend yelled across the parking lot. “You coming in or what? You out here eye beating hoes and shit.”

Erik’s eyes widened as he mentally killed his cousin and did a light trot across the parking lot. “My nigga, damn. You loud as fuck. I was trying to get this chick number and you yelling that shit.” He pushes him playfully adjusting his hat. “Aight, this party better be worth the damn hour drive out. You ain’t got no friends in Oakland.”

“Man, you gone complain the whole damn time or what?”

Erik rolls his eyes and adjusting his hat. He had a tendency of owning any party he went into so this was no different. Erik heads to the bar noticing the abundance beautiful women and the way that they out numbered the men two to one. “Hen.” He said to the bartender. He leans against the counter barely noticing the woman next him. But she notices him, her eyes wide and her smile wide.

“Hey.” Malaysia says leaning in from to f him. She knew him well. She knew that he was intelligent no matter how hard he tried to front in front of some of his friends. She knew that he was a former soldier and was highly ranked. So not only was he desired by every woman in Oakland currently but also the FBI, CIA and other agencies, he was a damn good soldier.

Erik nods his head at her. “Wassup ma?”

“Nothing. You enjoying the party?”

“I mean it’s aight.” He smiles at her. “You?”

“Something like that, it looks like you brought the party with you wo be honest.” Malaysia blushes and all the heat drains to her face. It’s gotten hotter. The room more packed and if it had not been for the blaring speakers of the event she was certain that everyone there could hear her heart. “Are you from here?” She knew the answer. Yes, born and raised by auntie after his dad was tragically killed.

“Yeah, been here forever. What about you?”

“I actually am from Compton.” She beamed.

“That’s what’s-,” Erik waves forward from being pushed from behind. His temper was quick as always. He spins around quickly noticing the culprit. He was prepared to snap but first he would have to pick his mouth up from the ground.

“Sorry.” Asa smirked looking him up and down. “You look like you might survive though.”

“Yeah, you think?” He places his glass down on the counter. “So what’s the move tonight?”

“I don’t give my name out to strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“I don’t know you, so you strange nigga.” Asa turns her head to the bartender. “Jack and Coke.” It’s intriguing how this handsome man is just intrigued with her as if no one else in the room. “So, stranger… you buying this drink?”

“I don’t buy strange women shit.” He chides at her, but slides his card over to the bartender. “but for goddesses I might.”

“you corny as fuck.” She laughs but her eyes bat rapidly as she glances him over once more. “Dance?”

“Hell yeah.” Erik says following her out to the floor.

Malaysia watches. It had taken weeks for her to gain the confidence to say something to him, months to even be in the same room and now this. She knocks back the vodka and exhales. It didn’t matter calm down. Her fist slams on the counter and the glasses shake all down the counter. The bartender raises a weary eye to her and a small warning. Fuck it. She leaves the bar standing against the wall watching them. He sees no one else. It was clear that he wasn’t interested in her. The conversation was dry, but this bitch was nothing special. She was nothing better than her.

Her nails rap against the wall the longer they danced. Bodies gyrating on one another with beat of each song. His hands wondering to her waist and then her thick thighs and hips. Erik hadn’t stopped smiling since they seen each other. Where was the fucking smile for her. Malaysia clicks open her phone. The background is him. She’d followed him to Long Beach and watched as he dove in the ocean with his friends and some random hoe he’d found. It was normal for him to get a random hoe. This time should be no different, but Malaysia seen it. He’d known her for a few seconds and was hooked on her like he was an addict.

Minutes of dancing turn into hours and the crowd starts to thin out, along with the energy Erik had for dancing. “You wanna leave?” She whispers leaning into his chest.

“you need a ride home.”

“I wanna ride aight.” There were no more words needed as Erik reached into his pocket gripping his keys and playfully ran out of the club with her by his side. The range rover was the only car he drove while out. It was his baby. He opens the door for her watching her climb in the backseat and he goes in after her.

Malaysia stands shaking her head across the street. She watched as the woman let the seat back. Their shadows bouncing and the car shaking. All this prep to not even talk to him. She wipes her face watching the tears fall to the ground at her feet. Fuck him. Fuck her.

Erik lifts her waist up and slams back into her loving how she met him at each stroke. This woman was amazing. This woman was what he always wanted, real. Her hips wind on him over and over until the small shakes in her turn into larger ones and her toes curl. He thrusts back into her a few times unable to fuck her up like he wanted to with his knees in the passenger seat. She squeezes him with her walls and he lifts her spurting his seed on his shirt. “Damn it.” He groans watching her as she sits across form him. “Now, can I have your name?”

“You still a stranger.” She kisses him on his lips. “Nice try though.”

“We just fucked.”

“That don’t mean shit…” She laughs. “I can get a nut from anywhere. But if we meet again… I promise you’ll know my name, handsome.” She opens the car door hopping out. “You’ll find me. I’m sure.”

“That’s petty as fuck.” He yells still smiling.

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

“Asa, you petty.” He watches her scrape his eggs in Kojack’s dog bowl and walk to the sink. “When I say breakfast at 9, damn it I need you here at nine. Now, we are late for the wedding coordinator’s meeting. You told me that I could get her and by damn I am getting her. You are coming, right?” “No, I told you me and T got plans. You and Nakia are going.” Erik takes a piece of bacon from her plate. “Them eggs looked weird anyway. Kojack gone get sick.” He kisses her cheek. “M’Baku went somewhere and he said he would be back, so don’t be shocked when he rolling back up in the house.”

“I won’t be here, or did you not hear me?” She smiles. “What colors do you like since you aren’t going?”

“I hate that pink shit or the yellow. Anything else, I am down for whatever you want.”

“Perfect.”

***

M’Baku didn’t want to meet Malaysia, but he was curious as to what she had to say, to say the least. They sat at the back of restaurant across from one another. There was something about her that seemed odd. He sipped water and sighed. “So, what’s the big plan?”

“Erik and Asa are not meant for each other.” She blurts out and then calms herself back down. “he loves me.” She breathes. “But I can’t even get him to see it because he is blinded by her. If she is removed from the picture we can be good. We can go back to how it used to be.”

“You dated him before?” M’Baku said confused.

“It’s not important.” Malaysia says giving him a smile. “But she has to go. It’s literally the only way that either one of us will be happy.”

“I think she’s happy where she is Malaysia. I don’t think she will ever chose me. And I wouldn’t expect her to.” M’Baku watches her brush her fingers through her hair. “they are engaged.”

“I know a 5ct Square diamond, set in a platinum band. He spent over five thousand dollars on her to propose in a fucking broom closet. Do you see what I am saying? They are horrible together. He didn’t even feel the need to make it elaborate.”

“Erik is not elaborate unless he’s plotting to kill you.” M’Baku nearly chuckles. He had never truly been a fan of Erik, but he hadn’t seen a reason for him to hate him. If T’Challa loved him perhaps he could learn to at least tolerate him, no matter what happened between him and Asa.

“You’re justifying his bleakness for her.” Malaysia pauses. “Are you in or not?”

“No.” He answers. “But I think you should move on… trust me this guy is not worth it.” He places his money down on the table. “Someone better will come along sweetie. I swear it.”

“He loves me.” She blurted out as he made his way out of the restaurant. “I’m sure of it.”

M’Baku reaches for his phone calling T’Challa. “King.”

“M’Baku.”

“I think there is some danger to the Duke.” He says. “I need to borrow Ayo.” He whispers.

***

T’Challa was not fond of the traffic but it at least gave him time to talk. M’Baku sat across from him. “can you tell me everything about her?”

“the night Erik proposed she approached me and said she knew a way to make them both ours. I was saddened to see her officially off the market… but in no way…”

“No need to explain your loyalties M’Baku.” T’Challa half laughed adjusting his necklaces. “What is off about her?”

“The way she speaks of him.”

“Shuri, search Malaysia Barton, medical history.” He said into his Kimoyo bead. He taps it and the report along with the image of her comes up.

“Malaysia Barton, Twenty-Five and has psychosis, a psychiatric illness associated with schizophrenia. She displaces reality, makes her own. She has been hospitalized for brief periods and is on several medications. Caused bodily harm to a few women.” She strolls through her file. “Why are you asking brother?”

“No reason Shuri, thank you.” He exits out and clears his throat. “We have her address, I am sure she would notice you, but Okoye and Ayo will accompany me. Stay in the car.”

Her apartment hasn’t been touched, everything is cleaned and orderly. T’Challa and Okoye open the bedroom door and their mouths drop. There are pictures plastered on every wall of Erik and his name written in Black ink on the mirror.

Okoye shakes her head. “the duke is in danger for certain.”

“Yes, now telling him that will be the challenge.” T’Challa snaps pictures. “Be sure not to move anything. We don’t need her knowing we know. I’ll talk to Erik myself.”

(Sorry for any typos)

Tagging: @wilddrabble @readsalot73 @sparklemichele @titty-teetee @amour-quinn @captstefanbrandt @valynsia @byzantium-glytch @suz-123 @captstefanbrandt @harleycativy@sunnyfortomorrow @sincerelysinister @ceridwenofwales@ivarsshieldmadien @bang-kim-bap @samwinchxtr @purple-apricots @raindrop-dewdrop @scumyeol @challaxkillmonger@virgosapphire79 @jecourt @pebblesz892 @wakanda-inspired@kreolemami @littleica @someareblindtoitsbeauty@almostpurelysmut@slimmiyagi @maliadestiny @part-time--thot–thot @thiccdaddy-mbaku @live-likeyourlast@tiredofthisgeneration @vanitykocaine @idilly @myboyfriendgiriboy@graysonshisss @leahnicole1219 @another-imaginesblog@vanitykocaine @simplyyamberr @queenshxt-only

#black panther #erik imagine #erik killmoger #erik smut #Erik Stevens #erik x asa #erik x oc #laketaj24 #laketa j writes #black!oc #woc reader #woc fanfic #tchalla #mbaku x oc #njadaka

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pigeonfare · 6 years

Text

of ailments;

jason todd / reader

rating: teen and up

summary: Jason’s not the world’s best caretaker to the sickly, but he does the job quite nicely. Although, it might be said that he cares a little too much, and that’s a vice if you’ve ever heard one. You don’t particularly mind though.

word count: 2k+

author’s note: a short n corny sick fic that can also fit in the same universe as this soulmate au fic that takes place first

He had a bad habit of not using your front door like a regular person— or better yet, a decent human being. It’s unsettling, in retrospect, to realize how comfortable and accustomed you’d become to see him land on your balcony on lazy afternoons with a sort of nonchalance you could never understand, expecting to be invited in.

“Keep them unlocked for me,” he’d requested once after you pulled open the door, and while you pondered on this, the retort came swift.

“Jason, we live in Gotham. Why would I want to keep any door unlocked?”

“If a criminal wanted to get into your apartment, trust me, a simple lock isn’t gonna keep them out.”

“That... really doesn’t comfort me. Just use the front door! Knock!”

“But don’t you think there’s something poetic about me, waiting for you out on your balcony on a cool, summer evening?”

“Poetic?” you had repeated, and your mind replayed how the glass fractured when his body came in contact with it all those weeks ago. The first meeting that brought everything together in the most surreal way. “Yeah, right.”

“You do think it’s poetic-- you just don’t want to admit it.” Jason then shrugged. “Whatever. You’ll come around eventually.”

Ultimately, you end up keeping the balcony doors unlocked, taking his word (albeit reluctantly) that you’d remain safe. He still knocked before he entered however, which was... considerate of him. Although on the more busy days, too distracted to notice the incessant knocking, his sporadic presence in your kitchen causes quite the fright anyway.

Today was not that kind of day, however.

You awake bleary-eyed to the sound of tapping after spending the entire day cooped up in your room, bedridden. Oh, no. That’s embarrassing.

You pull yourself upright, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, feeling conflicted on whether to get out of bed and greet Jason, or let him see you in your most pure, miserably sick form.

You stick with the latter, pulling at your duvet with sweaty fingers. You hear his combat boots click on the hardwood floors and cringe at the thought of cleaning them. Again. And it’s not doing much good for your headache either. At least you had the sick time hours to cash in.

Your eyes flutter open, hearing him call out your name out of the blue. “You there?” he hums out in a low tone.

As if it were a reflex, you open your mouth, prepared to croak out an incoherent noise. But then you think better of it and your breath hushes and wordlessly, you slip back under your covers to feign sleep instead.

Did he often visit your apartment while you were at work? You always presumed he’d leave after realizing you weren’t there, but the combat boots don’t stop their shuffling.

To be frank, you partially do want him to leave, so he wouldn’t see you looking all snotty and weary like this. Not the greatest impression you wished to make, after all.

Light in streaks peek through your blinds so you can only assume noon has struck already. Running a finger over your dark circles, you wonder about what kind of cracks he’d make at your condition if he saw you.

Guys like him probably fell ill once in every five years at the minimum, their immune system all jacked up. You wish you could relate.

Deep in your own thought, you don’t realize when the footsteps have silenced. Had he left? You didn’t hear the lock click behind him, either. You wait another moment and under the impression he’d left, attempt to sit up. With that said, it was also probably time for your to exit the your cozy haven and eat something.

Attempting to slide out from underneath your covers, your leg catches on the edge of the blankets, dragging it down onto the ground. Consequentially, your knees buckle from the slip but you catch yourself before you make the ultimate fall by grabbing onto the edge of your nightstand.

In this ruckus, your phone, that had been peacefully charging atop the nightstand, is knocked off, landing on the wooden floor with a sharp thud. The screen lights up at the impact, and you wince.

You sigh, but whilst you lean over to swipe it up and plug it back in, something clangs outside your bedroom.

With a loud creak, your head jerks up to meet the wide gaze of Jason Todd, who’d pulled open the door with great gusto. This was definitely not what you planned.

“Uhh,” you say over the parch conditions of your throat. You tuck back your stray hairs with the other, unoccupied hand. “Hi.”

With furrowed brows, he grunts a clipped, irritated noise. “You... what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you reply hastily. But when you pull yourself upright, you’re hit with a wave of vertigo and shut your eyes tight. “I think I’ve got a cold. Maybe.”

“You think, huh? Hold on, I’ll-- I’ll get you a glass of water.” Jason slips away before you can protest. “I think I know where you keep your glassware.”

Tossing the phone to some corner of the bed, you sit yourself on the edge and mull over the situation with a sort of exasperation. You run your tongue along your bottom lip, and as you sit, you’re becoming increasingly more aware of your familiar surroundings.

There’s a particular pulsing in your brain and as an effort to distract yourself from it, you open your mouth.

“Very chivalrous of you,” you say, loud enough for him to hear through the apartment. You listen to the clink of glass on the stone counter top. “To not enter my room when I’m not around.” There’s a husky rasp in the way you speak cannot be cleared away, so you let it tinge your voice helplessly.

He clicks his tongue as he reappears into view. “Should’ve told me you were sick. I would’ve gotten you some stuff.”

You only shook your head. “Already took the aspirin. I’m just trying to quietly sweat it out now.”

You admit you’re feeling hazy, but the way he stands at your ajar doorway, with his hand on the handle and looking in with a concerned countenance gives you a strange rush. You do your best to crack a small smile.

Walking over, he hands you the glass of water with a tilted, disapproving gaze. “That’s why you didn’t answer me earlier? Dummy. I’m not that much of a nuisance.”

“I never said that!” you protested, then take a swig before setting the glass aside. “I just don’t want to waste your time.”

Jason snorts. “You must really be sick if you’re saying this shit sincerely. Come on. Get back in bed.”

“No, what? I just spent the entire day lying down.” You pull yourself up again, and with a hand on his shoulder, try to coax him around. “How’s-- uh, how’s the team?”

“Changing the subject? Really?”

“Jason--”

“Oh man,” says Jason, suddenly pressing the large palm of his hand against your forehead.

You breathe in shallow takes, feeling his calluses fingers trail down the curve of your face, across your jaw, and down, down. They ghost over the column of your throat, and you swallow dryly. “What?” you ask.

“I think you’re flatlining. Sorry, babe— time’s up. Back to bed.” A frown tugs at his features but the gleam in his bright eyes say otherwise.

“Shut up,” you sigh, swatting his hand away weakly. It could’ve been worse. At the very least, you’ll be fit to work by tomorrow.

At some point in all that you’d shut your eyes, so you snap them back open to squint up at him, but his gaze is vividly preoccupied with the movement of his fingers flicking the locks of hair out of your visage. When he finally reaches your puzzled look he pulls away.

“Rest, I’ll just--,” he gestures over his shoulder to the door. “Leave.”

“Already?” you ask, and purse your lips. That’s not what you meant to say, but it’s too late now.

His strong gaze shifts back to you in an instant, and with his chin tilted upward, lets a crooked smile loose. “Didn’t you just want me out, like a few minutes ago?”

“I mean, I do,” you say with deliberation, not wishing to strain your voice any more than you already have. “I don’t want to get you sick either, that’s all.”

“You won’t. I don’t get sick easily. And besides,” he says, “I can always wear my helmet if it gets toxic up in here. Only if you really want me to stay.”

“I...,” you trail off, uncertain on how to reply momentarily, then cough. “Let’s catch up a little. Five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes? A little frugal with time, are we?” remarks Jason with a tinge of playfulness, and his arms drop to his sides. “It’s fine. Five minutes is plenty for a lot of things.”

“Jason.”

“Only joking about that bit,” he replies. “But I’m serious too-- I’ll leave when you fall asleep, how ‘bout that?”

“Promise?”

His grin widens at your gradual relent. “Promise.”

“Alright, but if I awake and I hear you going through my fridge, I’m not going to let you off the hook,” you say.

A brief, low laugh leaves him, and you feel the weight of his gaze search your face. Silence drifts in the space between you and him, along the layers of cotton, within the heat that radiates off his proximity. You shut your eyes as you sit, the feeling of congestion only worsening your overall sluggish mentality.

The shallow inhalations you take grate at your throat, and you reach over for another swig of water.

“Stop it,” you command (albeit in a mellow fashion) whilst swirling the the glass. “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not,” you hear him scoff. Then in a slightly sharper voice after clearing his voice, he speaks again. “I wasn’t.”

You don’t respond to this, and you can’t stop the transitory twitch of a smile form at the corner of your lips either.

“What were you going to do if I really weren’t home, anyway?” you ask.

Jason pauses before he speaks, and it’s a palpable pause. “I was in the middle of texting you when I heard you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I thought you were working overtime again. Realistically speaking, that’s probably a reason for your failing health too.” He tsked and you watch the way he shifts his weight from either foot. “Balance yourself.”

“I am not taking life lessons from a guy who goes out every Friday night actively looking for a brawl.”

“That’s cold. I swear my job is more productive than that, but... if that’s the case, how about we do something different this Friday night?” he muses, and you scoot over, offering him space to sit with you.

“And what would that entail?”

“I don’t know. What are your Friday nights like?”

“Mainly staying up until one in the morning, watching historical drama television.”

“Sounds disgusting,” he says. “I’m in.”

“Then it’s final! Can’t wait.”

“Only if you get better before then. Sorry, I just can’t see myself sharing popcorn with the ill.”

“Alright,” you say with a grumble. “But I can’t have you watching me while I sleep either, Edward Cullen.”

“That’s fair.” He withdraws off your mattress, and instead takes a seat at your desk. The wooden desk is littered with various trinkets you never bothered to clean up, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess any more than you do. “I’ll be right here,” he says.

You dig out your phone from underneath the blanket folds and plug it back in to the charger. “You’re still watching me, Jason.”

“Don’t flatter yourself-- I’ve got other matters to take care of, too.”

“Fine. No funny business.”

“None whatsoever.” The smugness oozes from his intonations.

You turn on your side and don’t heed him any more.

By the time you reopen your eyes, the light scattered on the floorboards are no longer there and the sky-- what you can tell of it between the blinds at least-- has turned mildly gray.

The dizziness that was prevalent hours ago had mostly dissipated at this point, and you feel stable enough to stand up without a problem. The bed frame creaks underneath your movement.

But your attention is wholly on the man asleep in your swivel chair, breathing quietly with his hand supporting his head.

You think of waking him up and nagging about him breaking his oath, but after tracing his peaceful posture, it would seem almost cruel to do so. You huff, murmuring under your breath. “Other matters, huh.”

His bangs give him a youthful look, but the broad nature of his body says otherwise. You think that perhaps, if you and him keep these infrequent rendezvous up, you could fall in love without out the pressures of time. Or even, in spite of the pressures. Beneath the loose cotton of his sweatshirt, his chest rises and falls deeply.

You walk back over to your bedside to take the empty glass, your mind in a much more mellow state than before.

“You think I’d be used to all your staring by now.”

You startle, shoulders jumping. Glancing back at Jason, he’s watching you with a sort of lazy yet intrigued regard through half-lidded eyes, and you frown. “You were awake?”

“No. Just a light sleeper,” Jason says. He tousles his dark hair and suddenly the magic of youth is lost as he rubs his jaw. “Who can’t stay asleep if you’re looking at me like that.”

“Sorry, but,” you say, “you must know you’ve got the same problem, right?”

He shoots you an odd look, as if he understood nuances you never picked up on. “Guess we both have something to work on.”

When he leaves, he leaves through the front door this time. You don’t remark on the oddity of this and neither does he. You intended to offer him something to eat, to drink, but knowing that they’d just appear as futile excuses, you stay distant.

With his hands in his pockets and one last glimpse into your apartment, he opens his mouth but you beat him to the punch. “Thanks for coming over,” you say simply. “Was nice of you.”

Jason blinks. “Yeah, of course. And, uh, get ready for Friday,” he says, taking a step backward. “I’ll provide the snacks.”

“I’ll provide the Netflix,” you promise.

He flashes a grin. “Fantastic,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You run a hand over your face after you shut the door, and just laugh at the absurdity of it all. A gentle, pleasant laugh that erupts from the fluttering sentiments in your heart, and that runs through all your limbs.

“Oh, man,” you say plainly. “I’m screwed.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc #writing #this has been in my drafts for so long g

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