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suraemoon · 10 months

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Get Ready With Me

- Elvis x Reader -

Summary: It's the 1960s and Mr. and Mrs. Elvis Presley are getting ready for yet another Hollywood party.

Warnings: a paragraph talking about a girl's measurements and a scene getting into a tight dress, skin getting caught in a zipper (not graphically described), sexual innuendos and metaphors that you might blink and miss including a subtle implication that he wants to suck her tits, a sentence talking about “breaking” a woman in, and implying that she might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer. also some references to Christianity.

WC: a cute little 4.5k

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For someone like your husband, Elvis Presley, possessive and protective in every way of what was his, he did not mind showing his wife off. He loved it. A beautiful woman is a man’s best accessory, right?

Sunset Boulevard parties where businessmen of all the major Hollywood studios would parade around a gleeful smile. Wives were dressed to the nines in expensive getups and accessorized their jewels with apparent frowns.

Diamonds were a girl's best friend. Diamonds were a girl’s pacifier to soothe from the all too quick world around her, a world not made for her or her satisfaction. A man with an arm around her cinched waist, who really could not give a damn that an hour ago she asked when they were leaving, only to be met with a shrug by the man meant to care for her needs the most. Get her a diamond to hold onto for security just in case things go south.

Elvis was different from these men in more ways than one. When the back of your kitten heels lifted slightly from the ground to reach up to your husband’s ear and ask in a hushed whisper when you were to leave and go back home, your husband made it his plan to leave as soon as you two could.

The truth is he did not want to be at those parties either but being ousted in the business meant he had to get his footing and swim along with the school of fish. Any wrong move and you are left behind, forgotten. For as much as he desired to swim the opposite way, he had too much to lose; too much and too many depending on him.

The dim lights above the hotel’s small, tiled bathroom provided a yellowish, comforting tint over the room as if a grandmother had not yet gotten the memo of the newest trend. Those bright, enhancing Hollywood-worthy style mirrors, similar in all ways to the vanity that Elvis bought you last Christmas, were in. As you were a couple who both came from humble beginnings and cracked mirrors neither you nor Elvis complained––at least you aren't in the dark. Checking how your makeup looked under the sun’s natural light cascading through the window helped ensure that your face wouldn’t parallel one of the clowns that walk the boardwalk of Coney Island the moment you step out of this personal Garden of Eden.

After being unveiled with much anticipation from the ribbon-tied gift box on the counter, the candy apple red satin dress slipped easily over your figure, ending a few inches above your knees in length. It was like a glove, except for the fact that it was loose and not yet zippered; the true fit and form waiting patiently to be physically revealed to its wearer. This layer of mystery stayed sitting and waiting.

Elvis picked out this dress for you at a local Los Angeles boutique just last week; this along with many other garments, ranging from a knit sweater for winter and an array of panties for the bedroom. All these he surprised you within gift-wrapped boxes, the box with today’s dress in it taken away before you can get your hands on it. He had to keep at least *something* exciting for today, at least one thing to look forward to, no matter how small.

Elvis Presley bought most of his wife’s clothing and took pride in knowing all of her measurements by heart. He was sure he could rattle them off on the spot like an accomplished kid at a school spelling bee. This he wouldn’t dare do though. It was a quiet contract of trust not needing to be formally established, one of manners that his mama was sure to have raised him with and should just come with the subconscious of being a human anyway.

He found that some men were a little too eager to talk about the personal details and inner workings of their relationships. A competition of who’s got the best broad and on some days who's got the worst nag. The one with the smallest waist. The one with the smallest brain. The one who can’t get slick or the one who’s too damn clingy she won’t get off you.

Anyone who has the chance to get to know Mrs. Presley knows that she is a keeper. Any eye who glances at her knows she is gorgeous. Any quiet spectator who notices her behavior and body language around Mr. Presley knows that she is a very satisfied woman, and no words are needed, that’s enough.

You had no doubt in your mind, under that well-hair-sprayed do of yours, that this dress would resemble all of the other pieces that Elvis had bought many times before and fit both your figure and the latest trends seamlessly. He really was a stylist if you think about it.

You hum a melody as your hands go to zipper your dress, only to find that the zipper is both too small to get a proper grip on and stuck on its track.

“Elvis?” You call out your voice’s first word in a while.

When hearing his name called, your eager-to-please husband quickly makes his way to the door of the bathroom. He moves suave and smooth as ever with his hands in his pockets before stopping and leaning his forearm on the doorframe taking the rectangle up, admiring the beauty you radiate reflecting to him in the mirror. What’s better than one of you? Two of you. A view from the back and the front simultaneously. He’s got a good one. He’s got the best one. The cream of the crop.

“...Elvis?” You repeat unsure if you should just get on with what you need or if he was even paying attention.

He licks his lips as his eyes go to admire your backside in front of him. “Hm? What is it, honey?”

Your left arm goes behind you, hand gently motioning to the undone zipper of your dress. Elvis hums, a breath of amusement escaping his mouth. The dress didn’t come with your pretty back on display like that? What a damn shame. “I gotcha, honey. Was just a little distracted there is all.”

“Mhm. I could tell you were distracted. Liking what you picked out?” You decide to perform a little shimmy, lips pouting in a playful, seductive manner. As you moved, your cleavage moved side to side with you, the cups of your dress not yet close enough to your body to keep them modestly contained.

He bends to kiss your soft temple. His breath and velvet-covered voice caused the words leaving his mouth to vibrate against your skin in a seductive whisper.

“Like is an understatement, doll. It's hard to stay focused when ya got such good candy in front of ya.”

He turns his head back forward and those sky-blue eyes of his that you love so dearly are fully visible to you in the reflection. The diamond on your ring seems to shine brighter when in the presence of his diamond eyes, while they look over you again.

“Candy so sweet you just wanna put your lips all over it….”

His sight rests again on your teasingly half-covered chest,

“...Candy ya just wanna suck.”

A blush, not the artificial pigment you powdered on your face earlier with a brush, but the natural light pink of your skin flushes your face. In that moment, Elvis touches your cheek, moving your head sideways for eye contact, getting a glance at the final product of your makeup while doing so. He feels the warmth spread and grins in satisfaction. The illustrious fantasies infiltrating both your and your husband's brains at that moment weren’t as pure as that pink.

He shakes his head as if being physically pulled out of his daydreams and told to remember the task at hand before fantasies turn into realities (they easily and quickly could in a matter of seconds with the two of you) and the remaining minutes are spent on something else other than getting ready. Elvis’ dress shoes then take a step back and his warm hands go to the small zipper on the back of your dress, right above your ass.

“This is what it must be like to dress one of ‘em Barbie dolls. My perfect lil’ model, looking good in anything put her in. Later we’ll hafta take some more polaroids…some showin’ the dress, some showin’ underneath it too.”

Elvis loved taking intimate photos of you in different outfits: some sheer lingerie, some completely nude, some without you wearing a top, some without bottoms. Mixed and matched photos were kept in a little box tucked in the drawer of his nightstand. He did it any chance he got. Well, any chance he remembered to do so before completely ravishing you because when your husband needs you, he needs you and who cares about the camera in a moment like that?

Your peaceful disposition is suddenly met with a flinch and your bright smile is interrupted by a yelp as halfway up your back the zipper catches on your skin. Elvis immediately flinches as if he had felt your pain and quickly moves to undo the zipper all the way, leaving you back where you started a few seconds ago. The only thing indicating his presence and touch on you was the small mark of red on your back. A flood of apologies immediately leaves his mouth.”O-oh Jesus, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm real sorry. I-I didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

“It's alright, Elvis. Don’t worry, I’m okay.” You reply, quick to comfort him as if he was the one who had gotten hurt.

“It’s not alright. My lil’ baby’s gotta boo-boo now.”

He crouches down and lowers his head to place a gentle kiss on the red mar that made itself home on the small of your back like a stork bite. The unexpectedness and quickness of his action causes a shiver to move like a wave crashing a peaceful coast throughout your body. But instead of a chilly shiver, it's bundled in warmth, like love sent a lightning bolt reminding you of its presence. Not that you would ever let yourself forget.

“I need to be more careful with my little dolly. If God made ya out of porcelain, I would’ve broken ya by now. Ain’t no doubt about that.”

His soft, tender pecks start to move up your back.

Your breath hitches, “Elvis…”

He whispers against your skin softly before continuing to kiss you, “Gotta make it up to hers.”

“Hers forgives him.” You close your eyes in bliss.

Oh, how much both of you wished not to attend this stupid party. Bedsheets that are beautifully tossed and messy instead of perfectly steamed suits and ties. Warm, passionate kisses instead of cold drinks and equally as cold shoulders. The love marks left on your neck from last night, since covered beneath a layer of foundation, regain their tenderness at this moment. Your body reminds you of what it wants more of, what it desires. Little do you know, so does his as the fabric of his slacks starts to get a little tighter around him.

After leaving a trail of kisses from the bottom of your back to between your shoulder blades, Elvis even more carefully than last time, if that was possible, gently brings up the small zipper all the way to the top using all his concentration to focus intently on not nipping you again. Your focus falls back on the mirror, watching as your body and the dress meet and fall in love. Everything that is supposed to hug, hugs. Everything that is supposed to hold, holds. It’s as if it was meant to be.

“There we go. Atta girl.” You’re unsure if he’s praising the zipper on your dress or you. If asked, Elvis would say both.

Then, your husband looks up to see the finished product of his work in the mirror like an artist would admire his masterpiece. His hands don’t stay off you for long as they are placed on your hips moving up and down in a massaging motion before giving your love handles a soft squeeze.

“Thank you for helping me, E.”

“No problem, honey. It’s what I’m sposed to do. Gotta have my girl looking perfect and you look more than it.”

You turn around for the first time since putting on the dress, assuring him at that moment that all that perfection and body he saw in the mirror was indeed real and not just a dream. Both of your hands cup his sculpted face and you give him a soft, tender, and very rewarding kiss. A small lipstick transfer leaves his lips just a tint pinker than they were before, unnoticeable to anyone but you: the person who made that change happen.

The last step of your personal routine awaited you and that was perfume. A bottle of Chanel Number 5 glistened on the counter as if awaiting the moment and you quickly take it into your hands. Your mind has been trained over the years to know the right spots to put perfume. You spray a little on one of the main pressure points, the inside of your wrist. Before the “getting ready” automatic machine in your brain can rub the now dripping solution into your skin, Elvis takes on the responsibility for you. Your husband swiftly takes your palm-up hand into his and rubs the liquid into your wrist in a soft, circular motion with his thumb. This process is then repeated with your right wrist. When finished, Elvis brings one of your wrists up to his nose, your skin brushing the tip, and smells it.

he hums satisfied then picks up the bottle, examining it. “When did you get this perfume, honey? It smells really nice.”

“Elvis…you bought me that perfume.”

“Oh.”

“You’re already so sweet, I thought those rose scents came with ya.” He says with a smirk in an attempt to smoothly cover up his mistake.

“Mhm, I was born with citrus running through my veins.”

“I’d believe it.”

You giggle and while the laugh escapes your lips, your sight falls on the usual next step of your joint getting-ready routine: your husband’s baby blue eyes and what was at this moment not highlighted around them.

“Need help with your lashes?” You ask softly. Neither you nor he needed to ask technically; both of you knew that this came next in the assembly line of tedious little tasks and that he would say yes.

“I was just about to ask ya,” Elvis replies comfortably and not totally in truth. He knows full well that you, his wife with the beneficial trait of getting the two of you properly in line and ready to go when it came to all sorts of schedules and plans, would’ve gotten to it anyway and frankly, he isn’t in any dire rush to leave. Mascara meant one more stride towards abandoning the warm comfort of this little hotel room.

“I gotcha.”

Elvis looks over you one more time before dragging his feet on the tile and leaving the bathroom to go sit, making himself comfortable in the dark grey upholstered lounge chair positioned at an angle in the corner of the room.

You grab the mascara tube out of your old light pink makeup bag sitting on the cold counter, now half empty due to products being placed all over the counter in a messy organization, and quickly go to where Elvis is sitting in all of his man-spreading glory. You stop in your tracks for a second to look over him. Elvis smiled, entertained by the fact that the purple tube of mascara and your cute wide eyes were the antonyms to all of the nasty stuff running through his mind while looking at the woman standing before him in all of her obliviously sexy magnificence.

His being sat down and you standing was the only time where you were taller than him. He looks up at you through those dirty blonde lashes not yet polished, as if you were the holy grail. An angel before him. A picturesque statue needing to be worshipped and he was damn well willing to kneel before you and give you that praise.

Your hesitation was not only due to Elvis’ seductive aura but also apprehension in thinking of a way to get close enough to his face to actually apply the makeup. The bed was a good distance away and continuing to stand wouldn’t be a good angle for application. There were no other chairs around either. Getting on your knees is always a good option, one both of you enjoy in different circumstances; it's just the rug burn would be a pain…

“Sit on me, baby. Don’t act like you’ve never done it before.”

He continues, his tone nonchalant, “My girl might still be a lil’ innocent but the angels didn’t make her clueless, did they?”

You shake your head with an embarrassed blush arising. “No, they didn’t, sir.”

“You know, by breaking ya in, I’ve put those dirty thoughts in ya head too. Just feel like you’re too scared to act on ‘em sometimes. Ain’t nobody here. Spread ya legs and sit on me. I need your services, honey…your makeup ones and all the other ones my girl gives so well.”

You giggle, cheeks never failing to flush at Elvis’ vulgarity. His subtle innuendos that would've gone over your head just a few months ago before he opened your eyes and made you his on your wedding night. You became one in three ways that day: mind, body, and soul.

Trying not to be hurt by the fact that your husband thought you were too embarrassed to sit on him for a few seconds, an unintentional attack on the state of your womanhood, you do just that.

You spread your legs to straddle him, the tight fabric of your dress trying to work against you as harsh friction on the plush of your thighs as you spread them around him. The fabric after having lost the battle, rolls up your thighs scrunched in the defeat, getting hiked up to an improper length as you adjust yourself on Elvis’ lap with a slight roll of your hips.

Both of you notice how his hips twitched, a bit like a spark, as they met yours. Energy already attracted and apparent in behavior, showed itself physically.

Your lined lips meet his for a passionate but quick kiss before pulling away teasingly. “Sorry.” You peck him again, not sorry in the least about it. “I’m getting a lil’ distracted.”

He laughs before stealing another kiss from those oh-so-tempting red lips of yours. He reflects back on grade-school bible study, this is what Adam and Eve must’ve felt when they ate that apple. “I don’t wanna go to this stupid shit.”

He kisses you again gently as if normal habit, “Just wanna stay here with my lil wife.”

You giggle while backing your head away further, knowing that if you keep this kissing up, it will lead to other events and you’ll never make it to this party. Your mind goes back to the memory of last month’s luncheon and how Elvis’ manager was not too pleased that the singer-turned-actor and his wife arrived an hour late to the event with hickeys and flushed cheeks.

“Cmon’ Elvis. You can have me when get back later.”

“Damn right, I will.” He responds matter-of-factly.

You lean forward, both palms pressing next to each other on his chest, and whisper into his cheek before kissing it, “Now sit still, be a good boy, and let me do your eyelashes all pretty.”

He looks at the mascara in your hand before looking back up at your eyes, his mouth slightly parted, “You’re right, lil mama. I got ahead of myself there, didn’t I?”

“You can say that.” You bite your bottom lip as your hands go to untwist the mascara tube, pulling the wand out slowly and wiping the excess product on the side of the entrance before taking it out all the way.

You hold back a giggle as you think of Elvis’ previous words coupled with the opening of this mascara…he really has corrupted your thoughts.

You gently place the tube down, careful not to make a mess and get the product on anything. Then, you adjust your straddle position as you would on the saddle of one of the horses back home to get more comfortable on your husband’s lap, holding the wand in your dominant hand as both of Elvis’ hands go to rest on the round of your ass.

His sky-blue eyes look straight into yours, holding a deliciously intimate and beautifully intense eye contact as you graze the mascara wand on his light brown lashes, careful not to poke his eye like that one mascara incident a few months ago where you were apologizing profusely.

The sweeping of the curved bristles in an up-and-down motion mirrors the gentle rubbing of his hands on your backside; back and forth, back and forth, with the brush being a little faster than the hands. Both have important purposes and both do their jobs flawlessly.

You accompany your light strokes with soothing whispers of praises and admiration, “Such a pretty boy. My handsome man who I love so, so much. Never loved anyone more.” You hear him respond pleasantly in a warm hum.

You point your pointer finger up and your husband immediately looks up at the beige ceiling above to allow you to coat his tinier, bottom lashes as well.

“Good boy.” You whisper concentrated.

When you finish the willingly made slow process of applying the mascara to your model, his eyelashes have grown a little longer in length and their color has changed from a dirty blonde to jet black, matching his hair and the dying process he first did to it all those years ago.

“All done.” You declare quickly like a toddler finished with their meal.

His eyelashes flutter to adjust to the layer of newly coated polish before his sight rests on your face, giving you an opportunity to admire your hard work.

“Thank ya, baby. You’re the best at taking care of me, aren’t ya? Needed a woman’s touch to finish off the look.”

You twist the cap of the mascara back on and toss it onto a nearby dresser before letting yourself fall more into him.

Your voice comes out as almost a whine as your head rests on his shoulder, “Do I gotta get up?”

“You know I’m not gonna make ya, doll. Maybe we should both take off a few layers and then you can come sit on my lap again. We could have a lot of fun like that.”

His hands start roaming under your skirt but cannot go far due to the tightness of the material, another, now physical, barrier keeping desires away from each other.

You begrudgingly shimmy off of him, like you feel a sense of duty to hosts that you’ve never met to make sure Elvis Presley gets to attend their event timely as promised.

Adjusting the hem of your dress back to its proper length as you get up, Elvis follows suit in getting up from the chair and straightening out his shirt. His mascara was the finishing touch to you two’s getting ready process, like cutting a red ribbon at the opening of a new building.

The air turned bittersweet, anticipation and melancholy almost selfish and uncalled for with the fact that you will have many, many more nights like these and you both know that. For you that doesn’t thin the chill of social anxiety that comes with going to events with arguably the most famous, and perhaps the most recognizable, man in the country. You’ve never talked about these restless feelings with him for it comes with the duty you love so much, being his wife.

His hands go to outline your body shape again, taking you in as he has done so many times before. He whispers to you as he has numerous times in the past. It never gets old, a love so evergreen it can never age.

“You look so pretty, mama.”

“And you look so handsome, Elvis.” You whisper back as if in the middle of exchanging beautiful, not-so-hidden secrets.

These sweet nothings between lovers are cut off by lips suddenly catching on to yours. This being the most intimate and passionate kiss so far tonight, one with enough energy and need to change the tide of your minds and blur the lines of plans already set in stone.

Your hands immediately go up to cup his face, the kiss not yet broken for the desire to have each other is too strong to pull it apart, almost like a magnet. A pure magnetism that feels so right.

His hands, touchy and soft, trace the silhouette of your figure from the cups holding your boobs to the satin that stops halfway down your thigh. His right-hand tugs on your dress’s hem once it reaches it, granted it is not too far down to find in a moment of such passion. The left hand slithers its way back up the sea of red to cup and squeeze your breast through the delicate fabric.

He’s moving all these parts simultaneously, both hands and both lips, but the main focus is always on you: the target of his desires, the common denominator to every one of his moves. Meanwhile, you are struggling to keep up with the quickness of this series of events so all of your energy is going toward the, hopefully never-ending, kiss. You moan into it, your need vocal.

Your padded fingers and perfectly manicured nails, not a chip to be seen since you fixed them last night, leave the sides of his pretty face to run through his hair like water would, your heels clicking on the ground as he backs you up. These rhythmic noises of your kitten heels come to a halt when the back of your calf is met with the wood of the bottom of a bedframe behind you.

You lose your balance: thighs, ass, and then eventually whole body meeting the soft sheets of the bed. They are still messy and undone from this morning. As you lay back you quickly glance at the clock sitting high on the wall next to you, seeming to be ticking faster than normal, and then your enlarged pupils go back to your ravager of a husband. His lips have since left your mouth and have moved to your neck, then down to your collarbone.

The clock reads 7:00 pm, the time the two of you had scheduled in your planner to be the last call to get going. The only sound you hear now is your own heavy breath when Elvis’ lips start to suck the sweet spot on the right side of your neck, you whine out any ounce of doubt you may still have possibly had.

7:02 now and Lord forgive the both of you, you aren’t gonna make it.

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A/N: This took me too long to write for what it is. I was sick for a whole week straight and that just threw me off my newly boarded writing train. This idea came from a wip that it is similar to but didn’t quite fit with (they’re sisters, not twins). I hate to be a tease with the ending, it cuts off unsatisfyingly, but your good sis is still a little unsure of her ability to write smut. I’ll get there eventually and we can rejoice when it happens. I'll come back to it. Also just noticed the second pic near the title isn’t the most “x reader” friendly and as a brown girl myself that’s my bad. Everything aside, enjoy some Grace Kelly in Rear Window.

#elvis #elvis presley #not beta read #so enjoy my madness #that there is no method to #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x y/n #60s elvis #elvis fans

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imaginesbymonika · 5 days

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Futile Devices | Part 1

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend!reader

Plot: There’s nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it’s too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

(1985)

You gaze at the ceiling, while soft guitar music fills the atmosphere. Outside you could hear people yell at one another, and perhaps Noel heard it too because his singing voice abruptly became a bit louder: “You’re my Coney Island Baby, you’re so precious, so sweet…” At the sound of someone slamming the door shut you involuntarily lift your head. “You’re my lucky star, that’s what you are.”

His voice is soft, or at least he attempts to sound smoother than he’s capable of being. Just last week, he managed to catch a vicious throat infection somehow. You kidded about how he got it from some girl down the block, but when he didn’t laugh about it you felt stupid. “How’s your throat?”, you ask, turning your head to get a better look at him. Noel shrugs:” You tell me.”

You nod before letting your head fall back down on the mattress. Outside the window, thick grey clouds have covered the once-blue sky, and a few tiny raindrops roll down the glass. “I hate September.”, you whisper and he quits playing. His eyes are burning holes into the top of your head:” I know. You say that every year.” “But only because every year, September manages to disappoint me.”

He chuckles before clearing his throat. He winces at the slight ache.

“Have you written anything new, yet?”, you ask, counting the small cracks in the ceiling. Three, five- eight. “Hmm, maybe.”, he replies, his fingers are tapping on the instrument. “Can I hear it?” “When it’s finished, sure.” A silence falls upon you both before Noel speaks up:” By the way, why- what did Tommy say to you?”

You quickly roll over onto your stomach:” Tommy? You mean when we stood in front of Ben’s Pub?” Noel nods, his fingers have stopped moving. It was the same bar where you and Noel kissed one another for the first time, a couple of years ago. Both of you happened to be extremely drunk that night, nevertheless not drunk enough for you to forget about it -you wondered if he had.

“He asked me for my number.”

“Oh, did he?”, a soft scoff escapes his lips, while he stares outside into the afternoon:” Did you give it to him?” There’s a newfound harshness to his voice, but it quickly disappears when he clears his throat once more. “No.”, you simply answer:” He’s not my type, anyway.”

Noel nods:” Yeah, right.” He slightly raises his guitar, until it’s back upright in his lap:” You’re my Coney Island Baby, you mean so much to me. You’re my pretty little lady.” A faded sigh escapes you before you move back onto your back. Ten, twelve, thirteen.

“Did you call Stacy back?”

He hums in response. “You know, that bird from school. Gave you her number on a cigarette.” You loathed how cool that was. And after a few moments of silence, Noel shakes his head:” Not my type, you know.”

Your eyes move down to your fingers, while they play with the corner of his beige bedsheets:” Well, what’s your type anyway?” The regret forms itself quickly in your abdomen and you swallow thickly. However, Noel merely chuckles:” I think, I need to know someone before I-, well, you know.” And you do.

“Yeah. Me too.”

#noel gallagher #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher imagine #oasis #liam gallagher

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itwasthereaminuteago · 6 months

Text

¦¦ Ammunition ¦¦

Frank Castle x Female Reader

Slightly smutty fairground fun spending the afternoon on Coney Island with Frank (who's scared of certain heights).

As you near a shooting game stall Frank offers to win you a prize, but you tell him he doesn't need to. He's walking on before he realises you've already veered off and are handing the vendor a bill and accepting the rifle from him.

“Hey, what're you doin, thought you weren't interested?” He asks, coming up behind you.

“Well, I didn’t say that, but I wanted to win something for you for a change. So what’ll it be, Castle?”

He shakes his head incredulously, chuckling at how headstrong you could be.

“C’mon, it’s the dog, isn’t it?” You ask him.

He nods. “Alright, alright. Hell yeah, ‘course I want the dog.”

“Okay, I'm gonna get that dog for you baby, just wait and see.”

He flashes you a smile and watches intently as you turn back to the targets and set your legs into a comfortable stance, raising the gun up level with your shoulder and peering through the basic sight guide, readying your aim like a pro.

He feels a little swell of pride fill him. You had taken to all of his firearms teaching well, but you proved to be a natural anyway.

You pick off the eight targets one after the other like it's nothing, the rounds hitting off the flat tin with a satisfying ‘phut-dink’. Both Frank and the stall holder are more than impressed as you place the gun back down on the counter, extending your arm to point at the cuddly dog plush sitting on the middle shelf above the beaten targets.

“Christ. Did you see that?” Frank nods at the vendor. "That's my woman!" he proudly exclaims.

“That doggy right there please!” you say to him cheerily, and Frank accepts it with a grin and a sweet kiss when you bundle it into his hands before the two of you walk away.

“So, you've been practising?” He probes.

“Mm, a little. You told me to.” You shrug nonchalantly. “Billy's been letting me use the range at work.”

“Oh I see. With Bill, huh?”

“You jealous?” You tease.

He hums, swinging the stuffed dog by his side. “Only because he's gettin’ to spend more time with my woman than I am these days.”

You plant another quick kiss on his cheek. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got secret intel that you're coming off the nightshift real soon.

“Hm, is that a fact?”

“Yeah, it is.” You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and start tugging him towards the Wonder Wheel. “C'mon Frankie, I wanna go!”

Frank shakes his head, putting on the brakes. “Aw hell no. You ain't gettin’ me on that thing.”

“But it's so romantic!” You put on a pout and Frank can't help himself grinning.

“You know you look like a spoilt kid when you do that.”

“Is it cute?”

“Yeah it's cute, but it still ain't workin’ on me.” He replies, still standing his ground as you keep on trying to drag him over to the wheel.

“Pleeeease Frank, I promise it'll be fun.” You halt, tilting your head at him. “Wait, you're not scared of heights are you?”

Frank's expression suddenly betrays the truth and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Are you serious? You're running around on rooftops all the time, you cannot be scared of heights!”

“That's… that’s different.” He grumbles, warily eyeing up the ride looming above you.

“Well, you'll be fine with me. I'll hold you tight, you don’t have to worry at all.” You reassure as he grudgingly joins the line with you.

As your carriage reaches halfway up and judders to a halt while another set of passengers join donw below on the ground, Frank’s palm starts to feel clammy against your own hand. His eyes flit nervously around and so you give his hand a squeeze and turn him to look at you.

“Hey, it’s fine. We’re just up here with the beautiful birds, having a nice time, hm?” You try to say soothingly, but Frank rolls his eyes.

“I ain’t having a nice time…”

He tightens his grip even more as the wheel starts moving again and you climb a bit higher.

“Shit.” he murmurs as the carriage swings gently back and forth. You place your hand on his thigh and give it a quick squeeze before changing the subject.

“So what do you wanna do after this, baby? Shall we grab some dinner? How about a Lombardi’s hm? I think you deserve it.”

Frank can’t think about food right now. He’s already regretting the burger and fresh doughnuts you had earlier today as his stomach roils at the fight or flight status currently warring over his body.

You decide to try a different tactic.

“Frankie, just close your eyes for a second. Please. Just trust me.” you say, smoothing your hand along his jaw getting him to look at you instead of down at the tiny people below.

“Just kiss me.”

You press your lips softly against his at first, cupping the back of his head and pulling the hand that’s entwined with your own around your waist encouraging him to hold you there instead. You try a few light, easy smooches before you switch to licking along the seam of his lips and coaxing him to forget where he is and focus on you alone. As he closes his eyes you kiss him deeper, giving him a little moan as a reward as you feel him start to relax just a little, scritching your nails at the short, shaved hair at the nape of his neck and sliding your free hand further along his thick, denim-clad thigh. He’s getting into it now, running his tongue against your own, his hands roaming more freely over your body, feeling over your curves and cupping your ass and moaning himself as he pulls you closer to him.

You can still feel the wheel going around but you keep him enraptured with your mouth and hands so that he won’t dwell on his fear until it’s all over.

You playfully nip at his lower lip and he curses out a husky ‘fuck, you’re so fuckin’ sexy’ before he’s on you again, kissing you into breathlessness You can feel yourself getting wet as your fingers raise up over the firm outline of his arousal straining against his dark jeans as he grinds into your touch.

“You want me, huh?” you breathe against his ear, humming with a sense of satisfaction at your distraction as you feel his fingers sneaking up under your shirt against your bare skin.

“Yeah I want you...” he rasps out as his lips trail like fire along the soft column of your neck, his other hand reaching to pop open the button of your pants.

“Oh shit- Frank, Frank…” you gasp, gently stopping and easing him off you as you realise the wheel is coming to a stop at the disembarking platform. He looks at you, and then at his surroundings, pupils as black as the coffee he drinks with a slight pink blush to his face.

The large stuffed dog stays held in front of him as you both stand and climb down the small staircase back to earth again.

“Don’t you dare tell Russo about this.” he says as you walk towards the subway station

“That we made out and almost fucked on the Wonder Wheel, or that you were scared to go on it?”

“The heights thing.” Frank growls.

“I can’t believe he doesn’t know that about you!”

“He does, but I ain’t giving him any fresh ammunition.”

“But I cured you, didn’t I?” you grin, grasping for the dog he’s using to cover up his crotch. He snatches it back and slaps you on the ass in response. You just laugh. “Yeah, I think I did.”

“We’re goin’ home. Now. Before you try and get me on any more dumb rides.”

“But what about dinner?!” you protest, although you’re only kidding as if you’re bothered. You couldn’t wait to get him home after the ferris wheel shenanigans for a different kind of ride...

“Lombardi’s deliver, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah,” you grin back at him, “so they do.”

#frank castle fluff #frank castle smut #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fic

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jinkoh · 5 months

Text

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

my centerfold

eric x fem!reader

“Is there ever going to be a right time for us?” Eric sounded bitter. He didn’t mean to, but he just didn't know how to hide his feelings about all of this. You tensed up, your fingers almost desperately intertwining themselves with his. “There has to be.”

tags: slow burn, childhood friends to ? to lovers, hurt/comfort, time skips, y/n is 2 yrs older, kinda rlly bad communication but they figure it out, one (1) suggestive scene

warnings: alcohol consumption, implied mental health issues, eric is lowkey not having a good time in this (but things turn out okay!! it will be fine!!)

i tried to stay away from physical descriptions but it does say y/n has smaller hands than eric

wordcount: ~6,7k

a/n: i think i started writing this when hurt me less came out bc it got me in the mood for something angsty and then it somehow turned into a songfic for 'coney island' instead. and ofc it's still angsty bc there is nothing i love more than writing pain :)) anyway i hope you enjoy~

Masterlist

Being seventeen sucked. Because seventeen had Eric sitting in his tree house, by himself, picking apart the old bleached out rug. Seventeen had him eating lunch with his friends, except you'd decided not to be a part of them anymore, sitting with Hyunjae and Juyeon instead. Which, to be fair, made sense because they were in the same grade and Eric wasn’t but that hadn’t stopped you before so why did it now?

Seventeen had him going to the arcade, trying over and over to win that silly plastic ring from the claw machine, as if it could fix anything, as if he still had anyone to give it to. Seventeen had him watching you graduate and it was stupid how pretty you looked in that black robe, as you left him and all your shared memories behind. He wanted to take a picture with you, he'd always naturally assumed you would, but you hadn't spoken in weeks and Eric was too much of a coward to start now. So he watched you from afar, radiant smile on your face as you stood with your family that he knew so well it felt like it was his own. And yet he didn't belong there anymore. And yet, you didn’t want him there anymore.

He rode his bike home after the ceremony, mindlessly throwing it onto the lawn before he climbed up the wooden steps to his tree house. He'd spent so much time here with you that sometimes he forgot it was his and not yours. He remembered you sitting on the patchwork of rugs and carpet squares with him, laughing bright as the sun at some silly joke of his. You're funny, you'd said, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes, and he'd never liked himself more than in that moment, with you giggling about his antics. Eric wondered if maybe you'd changed your mind and the parts of him you'd thought of as funny before had become annoying and childish. He wasn't that much younger but maybe the age difference had become all you could see, Eric just a kid that wouldn't be able to relate to the things ahead of you. He thought about the way you'd looked at him the last time you'd been up here together. There'd been something in your eyes that Eric had interpreted as love, but then your expression had shifted and you'd left and you hadn’t come back since.

Sitting all alone in the tree house, pointlessly overthinking all your possible reasons, he sort of regretted ever taking you up the brittle ladder. This tree house was supposed to be his safe space, but it felt looming and empty now. Where was he supposed to find comfort, if every possible source of comfort that he knew somehow tied back to you? Maybe he'd shared too much with you, given too much of himself, because now that you were leaving, what was there that you wouldn't take with you? What would be left behind with him, of him, once you were gone? He didn’t want to find out but it wasn’t looking like he had much of a choice.

Nineteen had Eric on top of the world. He’d surprised everyone by staying in town for college while most of his friends—including his best friend Sunwoo—didn’t, but it’d felt like the right thing to do. Of course, his plans used to be different, but the reason behind those plans, being together with you, had disappeared. Maybe it looked sad or pathetic from the outside, staying behind while everyone was leaving, but it didn’t feel that way to Eric. Because for once this had been a decision he’d made just for himself. And it'd proved to be the right one. Eric loved college, he loved his classes and he wasn’t lonely either. He'd never struggled to make new friends, so he’d found his people right on the first day, clicking with them so easily as if he’d known them forever. He’d met his girlfriend that way too and they’d been going strong for three months now. She was bold and bubbly and the type of person who made life feel good and easy. He liked her.

He liked her enough not to think about you anymore, except for the brief moments when he did. But even then it didn’t come with the same burst of emotion as it used to. He’d been so heartbroken back then, and then after the heartbreak there'd been this burning anger about the way you’d never told him why you cut him off. But now all that was left was a sense of bittersweet nostalgia.

The nostalgia overcame him again, when he entered the arcade with his friends. None of them came from this town, so they didn't have any memories about this place. It was just an arcade to them, so it would have been weird to decline when they'd asked Eric if he was up for going. And why would he decline either way? Sure, he hadn’t gone to the arcade in a long time, eventually leaving it behind like so many places he'd associated with you. But he was okay now.

Or maybe he wasn’t, because once inside he naturally found himself in front of the claw machine again. After all this time the silly little plastic ring was still the same, taunting him from the display of prices to be won. He threw in a coin and then another and another.

"What are you trying to win so desperately?" His girlfriend asked with a giggle, as she came up to him from behind.

"Uh, nothing really."

"Nothing?" She tilted her head.

"It's a little stupid," he admitted, "but I've always wanted to get that ring. I never managed, so I can't help but try when I see it."

"That's cute though. I’m rooting for you," she said, giving him a little peck on the cheek. Eric felt guilty, as if he was keeping a secret from her.

"Will you give it to me, if you do win it?"

He hesitated for a moment too long before replying. "Of course. But I doubt I will."

She didn’t take much notice of his faltering and just gave him another peck before she disappeared elsewhere to play a racing game.

Eric got a bunch of key charms that day. Until, suddenly, when he popped open another plastic ball, there wasn’t a key charm inside. He stared at the ring with something akin to confusion. He'd tried so often back then and never succeeded, so a part of him had started to believe it wasn’t actually possible. But here it was, right there in his palm, two years late and looking cheaper up close. In the end it was just a piece of plastic, he supposed. He slipped it into his pocket. When his girlfriend asked later, he told her about the key charms and let her choose one of them before dividing the rest among his friends. The ring stayed hidden in his pocket, a secret heavier than the colorful plastic it was made of.

He turned the ring between his fingers later that night, lying awake with useless thoughts. That day in the arcade, when he’d failed to get the ring for you was when it’d all gone down the drain. You’d hung out at the arcade a lot back then, you and Eric and Sunwoo and Haknyeon and Hyunjae and whoever else had been in the mood. There hadn’t been anything special about that day; you’d joked around like always, teasing him about not winning anything. “Just watch me,” he’d shot back, trying to defend his pride. “Tell me what you want and I’ll win it for you.” “The ring. From the claw machine," you'd replied and to this day Eric didn’t understand why you’d chosen that of all things. He’d agreed though, telling you it was easy; only to get nothing but a bunch of key charms and a necklace. He’d wasted a ton of coins trying to get it for you, even after that day, even after you were no longer speaking. But now that he finally had it, it felt underwhelming. It was tiny, probably meant for children with the way it didn’t even fit his pinky. Then again, your hands were smaller than his. Not that he’d ever gotten to hold them, but he remembered from the way you’d grabbed the front of his T-shirt the very same day. It was stupid that he could still recall such a silly detail. He should be remembering other things instead, like how it’d felt when your lips crashed into his, but the touch had been so brief and so surprising, he had barely registered it had happened at all when you were already pushing him away again. It’d been his first kiss, so he thought he should be remembering it better, but what came to mind was always the moment right before, when you’d looked at him with fondness, and then the moment right after when there’d been terror in your eyes, a look of reproach. As if he’d been the one to cross that line, when really, it was you. You had grabbed his shirt and you had kissed him first. So why was he treated like he'd been the one who’d made the mistake?

And why was it a mistake anyway?

“This is pretty cute too,” you said when you were sitting in his tree house together, holding up the necklace that was sparkling in the light of the evening sun that came in through the window. “Of course it’s not a ring, but yanno, can’t have it all.”

Everyone had gone home, but you’d naturally gone back with Eric. He hadn’t questioned it because you always did that, treating his home like your own. And it wasn’t like he wanted you to leave.

“If you don’t like it, give it back,” he complained with a pout, trying to snatch the necklace from you, but you quickly held it out of reach.

“Nope, never. You already gave it to me, so it’s mine now.” You turned your back to him, pushing your hair to the side and holding the necklace around your neck for him to close. “Help me put it on?”

There shouldn’t have been anything weird or special about this, but Eric’s hands trembled and it took him three attempts to finally get it right.

“Maybe a necklace is better,” you’d said as you turned back around to him, brushing over the little pendant, cheap metal against the skin between your collarbones. “I’m too young to get married and I’m sure there are other people you’d prefer giving rings to anyway.”

He should have made a silly comment now, agreeing that just the thought of marrying you was grossing him out. But it didn’t. It actually sounded pretty good to him.

“No,” he mumbled without making eye contact. “I wouldn’t have minded giving it to you.”

You didn’t reply, and it made him realize that he’d probably fucked up. He shouldn’t have said that. He looked up, searching his brain for a stupid joke to lighten up the mood, but when he met your gaze you looked flustered.

“Really?” your voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Win it for me next time then.”

Eric felt his skin tingle at your words, helplessly trying to figure out if you were fucking with him right now or if all of this meant what he thought it did. “Okay,” he pressed out, because what else was he going to say if the girl he liked asked him for a ring?

For a moment you just looked at him, but then you grabbed his shirt, your fingers wrapping around the fabric to pull him in, and Eric in his surprise almost toppled forward. Except he didn’t because then there were your lips on his that stopped him from falling.

The fall only came after, when you dashed out and completely stopped talking to him.

Twenty-one wasn't what Eric thought it would be. That feeling of being undefeatable that had empowered him at nineteen seemed to be completely used up now. Instead the teenage angst had come back with full force, making him feel more miserable and anxious than ever. Of course he wasn’t actually a teenager anymore, but calling it teenage angst was less frightening than calling it depression and it wasn't like he was seeing anyone about it anyway. As long as he didn’t have a diagnosis he didn’t have an actual problem. It was just a little losing streak, but he'd be back on his game in a bit. He just had a lot to deal with right now, like how college was harder than it'd felt at the beginning. Or how his girlfriend had broken up with him a few months ago and he hadn’t dated since. It was fine though, it was better that way. She deserved better. After all, even now he wasn’t sure if he missed her or if he just missed being with someone. But simply knowing it'd been the right choice didn't take away that looming feeling of loneliness in his bones.

Of course he had friends that cared about him, but they were her friends too and even though they'd separated amicably, he felt awkward and detached. He didn’t know how to open up to them anymore, or maybe he'd never really opened up to them from the start. More often than not he wished that he'd gone to the same college as Sunwoo after all. Surely, he'd be feeling better then. Because despite his teasing and feigned annoyance, Sunwoo was his best friend and the person he relied on the most. Except that felt so much harder to do with distance between them and Eric couldn’t shake off the fear of becoming a burden if he told Sunwoo just how miserable he was feeling. So, he was somehow dealing with it by himself, mostly relying on the hope that it would eventually pass and that maybe he would wake up some day and feel okay again.

Today wasn’t the day though, he realized as he stood at the grocery store without his shopping list and only fragmentary memories of what he’d been meaning to buy. He was ruffling his hair in frustration in the dairy section, trying to remember if milk was needed or not, when he suddenly got pulled out of his thoughts.

“Eric, right?”

When he turned around he found Hyunjae standing in front of him, four years older than the last time he’d seen him and yet unmistakably the same.

“It’s Hyunjae,” he unnecessarily explained with a bright smile when Eric didn’t respond immediately.

“Yeah, of course, I remember.” Eric tried to return his smile, but he felt too conscious of himself, too uncomfortable in his own skin and the hoodie that he hadn’t washed in too long.

“Are you also back for spring break?”

There was no reason to feel embarrassed about it, but somehow Eric felt small when he admitted that he had never left town. He'd never felt ashamed of that a year or two ago.

“Really?” Hyunjae looked surprised, but there was no judgment there at all. “I always thought you’d go to the same school as y/n. The two of you were attached at the hip back then.” He chuckled. “But I guess you had your own plans. Good for you though! Hope life’s been treating you well?”

“Oh, totally,” Eric lied with a smile. “It’s going great. What about you?”

“Yeah, same, but I’m glad it’s spring break now. I’m actually buying some stuff for the weekend,” he nodded towards his cart, loaded with beer and liquor and meat. “Throwing a party since a lot of the guys from school are back right now—,” he interrupted himself for a second. “Actually, you should come. If you’re free on Friday."

“Sure,” Eric nodded, “I’ll stop by if I find the time.” There was no reason to think he wouldn’t, there were no other plans to speak of, but he wanted to keep himself the option of showing up.

“Nice,” Hyunjae grinned. He seemed genuinely pleased about the prospect of Eric coming, but maybe that had more to do with Hyunjae being a nice, sociable guy, rather than how he felt about Eric specifically. Still, it was nice to be invited somewhere.

“I’ll see you on Friday then,” he added, lightly patting Eric on the back before getting back to his cart.

“Yeah,” Eric gave him a small wave. “See you then.”

Eric was convinced he wouldn’t go to the party. He still thought so until Friday evening, when he was chilling on the couch fumbling with a rubix cube and came to the depressing realization that he hadn’t done anything all week and wasn’t going to do anything on the weekend either. The thought of that made him feel miserable and like a stranger to himself. He wasn’t the type of person to stay at home by himself all week, letting spring break pass by without any memories to speak of. He had to think of Hyunjae’s invitation then and he decided to go. After all, if he wanted things to be different, he’d have to do something about it. And he liked going to parties, didn’t he? Maybe he hadn’t been to one in a while but he assumed it was like riding a bicycle, surely he’d be back in his element once he arrived. So, he slipped on some fresh clothes, did his hair, and made his way over to Hyunjae’s, fashionably late of course.

Rather than ringing the bell, he headed straight for the garden, where he heard the sound of music and laughter. The party was in full swing already, the atmosphere light and happy, making it easy to blend in and make small talk here and there. Eric didn’t remember everyone’s names, but he did recognize a bunch of faces and it seemed like almost everyone remembered him to some extent. It was a nice feeling to know he’d left enough of an impression on all these people from school for them to still have positive memories about him. Of course, none of the conversations he had were all that deep and meaningful, but after distancing himself from people for weeks now and constantly worrying about being a burden to those around him, it was a relief to see that people did seem to like having him around.

He was starting to loosen up, feeling lighter and happier than he’d been in weeks. Surely the alcohol was doing its part too, but Eric was convinced it was more than that. The evening felt like a turning point, like the kick of motivation he’d needed to work on getting better again. Maybe he was being a little delusional.

Just when he was about to open another bottle of beer, a voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Eric?”

You hadn’t even been all that loud, but he felt like the noise of the party—the music, the chatter, the laughter—all of it had suddenly diminished to a faint background noise at the call of your voice.

He hadn’t heard it in years, but there was no doubt in his mind it was yours. The time apart could never erase all the time spent together, your voice ingrained in his memory like a melody from his youth.

Eric didn’t turn around immediately. Instead he resumed opening the bottle first, using the brief moment to try and collect himself. It wasn’t really working. He hadn’t expected to meet you here. In hindsight that’d been pretty stupid, but hindsight wasn’t really helping him now.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat before finally turning around to face you. “Y/n.” He didn’t know what face he was making. Was he smiling? He wanted to smile.

“It’s been a while.” You were smiling. It was a little timid, as if you weren’t sure if Eric would want you to talk to him, but it was a smile nevertheless. He was glad somehow, that there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings on your side. A part of him had always feared that you’d come to hate him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you maybe—,” you were fumbling with the pendant of your necklace. It looked expensive, or at least more expensive than the one he’d gotten you from the arcade. He pointlessly wondered if you still had it. “Do you wanna go for a walk? Or something?”

“Sure.” It was an automatic response that came out before he had the chance to consider if he actually wanted to. But when you both set foot onto the pavement and slowly distanced yourselves from Hyunjaes house, Eric thought that he did want to.

It was quiet for a bit so Eric said “Hyunjae invited me,” both to fill the silence and because he thought you could be confused about his attendance at the party.

“Yeah, he told me.”

Somehow Eric felt weird about that. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the two of them had talked about him, or the fact that they’d talked at all. “Are you still close?” It was a stupid question. Eric could already guess the answer and he didn’t actually want to hear it. A very uncalled for jealousy crept up in his stomach.

“Yes. I mean, not to that extent—we’re not living in the same city—but we’ve kept in touch.”

“That’s nice,” Eric replied and he wanted to mean it but all he could think was ‘why didn’t you keep in touch with me?’

You turned a corner, entering a playground that was deserted at this hour and Eric followed along, taking the other one when you sat down on one of the swings. He watched as you slowly swayed back and forth, your gaze fixed onto your feet that never left the sand.

“I know it’s late,” you eventually started without looking up, “but I always wanted to apologize.”

It felt weird to hear you apologize. Maybe because in his head Eric has assumed you had moved on from everything quickly, starting your new life in a new place and forgetting all about the boy you’d left behind. It’d made sense to him, because while he’d never gotten the luxury of actual closure, always stuck wondering what he’d done wrong for things to go the way they did, you had known. There were no open ends to take care of, not for you. Or so he’d made himself believe, but here you were, apologizing because apparently you too hadn’t just forgotten everything.

“I was a dick back then,” you added and Eric found himself agreeing. “Yeah.” He thought he saw you flinch at his honesty.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I know it’s not an excuse but I just—I was really scared back then.”

“Scared of what?”

“Everything. Graduation. Change. It all felt so scary to me. And I know it’s scary to everyone, I get that, but back then I felt like I was the only one struggling. Everyone around me seemed all happy and excited and I just felt so scared.”

“I could have been there for you.”

“I know. I knew. But maybe you were one of the reasons I was so scared and I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eric turned to you with a frown, but you didn’t look up.

“I was just so scared of losing you.”

“We would have been fine even with the distance. You wouldn’t have lost me.”

“Maybe not.”

“Definitely not,” he insisted.

You stopped swinging, your heels digging into the sand. “It wasn’t just the distance—I mean, of course I was scared of being apart. But at the time even being together felt like I was going to lose you. I just felt different, and I knew I was ruining our friendship but I didn’t know how not to. Or, I don’t know—maybe I thought boycotting things myself would be easier to stomach. It was a mistake, I know that now, but I was stupid back then.”

Eric knew how hard it was for you to tell him all this, he heard it in the way your voice trembled and he saw it in the way your hands clung onto the chains of the swing like your life depended on them. But hearing it wasn’t easy either. You were confirming what he’d somehow already known: kissing him was a mistake to you. It’d been something to boycott your friendship without any deeper meaning, and that stung because it had meant so much to him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” you continued when Eric didn’t say anything, “but I at least wanted to say sorry. I was an idiot.”

A moment went by in silence, and then another. There was nothing aside from the wind rustling in the trees and the slight squeaking of the swings’ hinges. Eric felt tears welling up in his eyes and that sucked because he’d so badly wanted to be okay when he saw you again; he’d wanted to be over it, but now that you were here it all came back to him. He looked up to the dark sky, trying to blink away the tears. It was pathetic that he was crying like this, still hung up on his first love after four years.

“Did you ever actually—,” He started but then interrupted himself. —like me?, was what he wanted to ask but he couldn’t get the words out. It seemed you understood him anyway.

“I did. I liked you, Eric. I know I didn’t act like it, but I really liked you.”

He turned to meet your gaze and he was surprised to see tears in your eyes too. You seemed earnest. “But did you like me like that?” His voice was hoarse and quiet and barely came out at all, but he needed to ask, he needed to finally know.

You looked confused, as if you’d already given all the answers Eric was looking for and he was just too stupid to see. And maybe he was, maybe you’d already said it all, but he had to make sure.

“That’s what scared me so much, Eric,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to destroy our friendship with my silly feelings, but at the same time I wanted—”

“They weren’t silly. If your feelings were silly then mine were silly too.”

Your breathing hitched. “What do you mean?”

“I liked you too,” he admitted because there wasn’t a reason not to, “I always, always liked you.”

With a long sigh you pushed yourself up from the swing, taking a few steps ahead, maybe just to do something. “I really fucked things up, huh?” You turned to look at him, as if you wanted to ask more, but it took you another two turns and a few more uneasy steps to gather the courage. “What about now? Do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Eric got up too, reaching out for your hand to stop your pacing. Your fingers felt cold, maybe from the iron chains of the swings, and he wished he could put them in his pocket to warm them up. “I never once hated you.”

When you looked up now, eyes almost a little teary, he realized how close you were. If he just leaned in a little he could have kissed you. He didn’t get to though, because you leaned in first, your lips brushing his in a careful, feather light touch before you pulled away again, a question in your eyes. His gaze followed your lips, chasing the kiss, and that was enough for you to lean in again. This time I need to remember, he thought to himself as he reached up to cup your jaw and pull you in. This time I have to remember every little thing about it.

Having you back in his room after all this time felt strange and having you in his bed felt even stranger. Eric remembered the days spent sitting on his race car sheets that he would have been too embarrassed to show anyone else, but it was fine if it was you, because you wouldn’t tell anyone. He remembered the laughing and the play fighting and all the dreams and plans you’d talked about while staring at his ceiling with the little sky of glow-in-the-dark stars looking back at you. The stars weren’t there anymore, nor were the race cars. But most importantly, rather than sitting next to him, you were straddling his hips, your eyes dark and beautiful in the halflight of the room. You leaned down to kiss him and your hair felt ticklish where it brushed his skin. It was a slow and sweet kiss, your fingers gently carding through his locks. But you steadily became more greedy, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you drew him in. He didn’t mind at all, feeling that same sense of hunger burning under his skin. When you ground your hips into him, he let out a groan, muffled only by your lips on his own. Almost automatically he grabbed onto your waist, pulling your body even closer to his own because it never felt close enough. He broke away from your lips, his mouth moving to your neck instead, leaving a trail of bites and kisses in its wake. You tilted your head to give him more access as you continuously rolled your hips into his, chasing that sweet sweet friction. His hands slipped beneath your shirt and he loved the feeling of your warm skin right beneath his fingertips as he explored your body. When his hands traveled down to the waistband of your jeans, tugging at the fabric in a question, he felt you jolt in his lap, stopping your movements as if you’d woken up from a trance.

“Wait,” you whispered with a breathy voice, your hand coming to rest on his.

“You don’t want to?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. Of course he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he’d be upset if you didn’t. Anything was fine with him, really, as long as you didn’t disappear from his side again.

“It’s not that.” You took a deep breath and Eric immediately felt a sense of dread bubble up in his stomach.

“But?”

“Eric, I’m flying back in three days.”

His grip on you instinctively tightened, as if that could somehow make you stay. Of course he’d somehow known that you would have to go back to your life that very clearly wasn’t taking place in this town, or room, or bed. But he’d chosen to ignore that knowledge, pushing it to the far back of his mind because he didn’t want to think about it. What use was there thinking about it anyway? He couldn’t change it.

“Yeah,” he whispered, letting his head drop onto your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.. “But can’t we have this? At least for now?”

“If we indulge ourselves now, won’t it hurt more to part ways?”

“I don’t know. I think it hurt plenty last time.” He didn’t want to sound bitter or like he was holding a grudge, because he wasn’t. But it almost seemed like history was repeating itself. Why did you always kiss and run? What was it about him that you didn’t want to stay?

He felt your arms coming around his back, your hands drawing slow patterns. “You’re right, it hurt plenty,” you admitted and your voice seemed to tremble, “I just don’t know what to do. It’s like we’ll always get hurt, no matter which route we take.”

Eric raised his head to look at you and he felt his heart ache when he saw tears running down your cheeks. “Maybe. But if we get hurt anyway, shouldn’t we at least make the most of being together now?”

“Okay,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He smiled, reaching up to wipe away your tears. “Okay,” he repeated. And then you kissed, again and again, until the sweet comfort of your touch drowned out the heartache that was haunting both of you.

For two days, you lived in your own little world, shut away from the reality that waited outside of Eric’s room and just indulging in the way it felt to be together. Of course you both knew it wasn’t going to last, it was a mock reality, a simulation of what could be under different circumstances. But Eric had given that enough thought already. At least for a bit he didn’t want to worry about that and just get a taste of that happiness, even if he had to return it eventually. You seemed to feel the same or at least that’s what Eric wanted to believe when you let him snuggle closer in the morning, giggling at the way he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ticklish on your bare skin. He smiled to himself, his chest brimming with happiness as he mindlessly started playing with your hand. You had pretty hands, he thought. He traced your fingers, one by one until he reached your ring finger. His delusional mind wondered, what it’d look like if you wore a ring. Preferably one that he’d gotten for you. Which reminded him—he did get one for you. It was way late, but it was neatly sitting in his nightstand.

“Y/n,” he started in a soft voice because the morning was too quiet to speak any louder, “Sorry for not winning you an arcade ring back then.”

“You still remember that?”

“Of course I do. You know, I sometimes thought maybe things would have been different if I had won that ring for you.” It was supposed to be an introduction, leading up to the big reveal that he’d finally gotten that ring. That was romantic wasn’t it? But when he was about to sit up to reach for the drawer of his nightstand, you shot him down with your words.

“We would have gone down in flames either way. A plastic ring couldn’t have made a difference.”

“Right,” he whispered and his voice sounded choked up.

“Eric—”

“No, you’re right. It’s just a stupid ring. Who would be hung up on it all this time?” Who, aside from him, of course.

“It’s not that, Eric. It wasn’t stupid—but what I’m trying to say is it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong and it wasn’t because you didn’t win the ring for me. It just wasn’t the right time for us.”

“There has to be,” you whispered and he heard the tears in your voice. He squeezed your hand, a silent comfort because he didn’t know what else to do or say. Nothing could stop you from leaving tomorrow. Nothing could change the circumstances you found yourselves in.

You’d told him that he didn’t have to drive you to the airport, but he’d insisted. If he already couldn’t keep you he at least wanted to be with you for as long as possible. You arrived early, so you sat in one of the waiting areas for a bit, hands intertwined and a heavy silence hanging above you. It was hard to make conversation, because everything either of you could possibly say seemed so meaningless in the face of having to part. When it was finally time for you to head to the gate, Eric accompanied you as far as he could. You hugged for an eternity before reluctantly pulling away and it still seemed to be too short. Both of you had been crying on and off ever since you’d arrived at the airport, and there shouldn’t be any tears left at this point, but somehow there still were new ones coming anyway.

“I should really go now.”

“Yeah,” Eric nodded, but his fingers still held onto yours for a second longer, the thought of letting go painful, “I know.”

“It will be okay,” you whispered as you turned to leave and Eric wondered if you were telling him or yourself, “there will be a time for us.”

What bullshit, he thought to himself, watching you walk off. Why should you have to wait for a right time, after you’d already waited so long? The small plastic ball that he’d taken out of his nightstand and slipped into his pocket for god knows what reason felt impossibly heavy. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

“There won’t be,” he blurted out without thinking, “There won’t be a right time.”

You halted in your movements, slowly turning back around looking utterly heartbroken. “But can’t we hope?”

With a few steps he closed the distance between you again. “There will never be a right time for us. Because there is no such thing. Aren’t we the ones who should decide what time is right? I am tired of all this uncertainty. I don’t want to see you go without knowing if we’ll talk again. I know it isn’t easy to make things work long distance, but shouldn’t we at least try? Didn’t we spend enough time with regrets?”

“But how—how could I possibly ask that of you? After everything I’ve done, shouldn’t I make things easy for you now? How can I ask you to try something that seems to be doomed to fall apart?”

“Then what if I’m the one who’s asking you?” He pulled out the plastic capsule from his pocket, holding it out to you with shaking hands. “What if I’m the one who’s asking to try?”

You stared at it for a moment, clearly flabbergasted. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he opened it to show you the tiny little arcade ring, and it made a new wave of tears roll down your cheeks.

“You got it? For me?”

“A while ago. I know you said it wouldn’t change anything, it’s just plastic after all but—”

“You really went back to win it for me?” You were straight up sobbing now, but there was a smile in your eyes.

“Well, I said I would.”

“I love it,” you pressed out through tears, “I love you.”

“Yeah,” he smiled back, trying his best and failing not to cry too. He’d wondered many times if he should just throw the ring away and move on. And maybe he should have, but right now, at this moment, he was glad he didn’t. “I love you too.”

Twenty-three was fine, he supposed. And for the most part it was. He felt too young to be finishing college and there was all that fear about what was to come after; the prospect of job interviews scary, the prospect of maybe not even getting invited infinitely scarier. But it wasn’t as frightening as it could have been, maybe because he'd been seeing a therapist for a while now. Or maybe because he wasn’t feeling so alone now. Despite not living in the same town anymore he had a lot of contact with his friends these days, both from college and high school. Actually Sunwoo had even come over to help with his move. Your move, to be more precise. You’d moved in together just a few weeks ago, after his classes had ended for good. It was a cozy little flat close to your workplace that you'd picked together, and Eric had never loved coming home more than he did now. There was nothing better than knowing you’d be there and even at the times you weren’t, he still found you in every inch of your shared apartment, from the potted plant in the kitchen that you insisted wasn’t dead yet, to your forgotten sock between the sofa cushions.

You also actually wore that tiny little arcade ring (on your pinky, because it didn't fit anywhere else). He’d told you a zillion times you didn’t have to wear it, but it gave him butterflies that you did. He promised himself that once he’d found a job he would save up for a proper ring, one that you wouldn’t have to wear on your pinky. The thought made him giddy and excited for the future, overshadowing all the scary parts. Yeah, twenty-three was definitely fine.

Masterlist

#eric x reader #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz fanfic #tbz eric x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz youngjae x reader #the boyz fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kebbis.writing

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fluffysucker · 1 year

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8. Deep Blue, but you painted me golden

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

Tw: Mentions of miscarriage.

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I can't believe this is the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading. It means the world to me.

Epilogue coming right away.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

The day at Coney Island felt like a fever dream. It was too amazing to be real.

After finishing breakfast, Bucky told you to get ready, and he would help the kids get ready. Choosing to stay casual, all of you were out and in Bucky's car in a short time.

The car ride was filled with Lily and Theo's voices expressing their excitement about the day and all they wanted to do. It was barely afternoon, and your smile was already so big. Once Bucky parked the car and you helped the kids out, they ran off ahead of you, ready to start the day.

And it was wonderful. Between the kids getting in the children's rides while you and Bucky took pictures like any parents, going on rides as a family, and eating so much food, you never had more fun. Your favourite part,however, was a moment you didn't expect. You split up, Bucky took Theo to try a game he really wanted to, and you and Lily went to pick up some food for all of you. As you were talking to Lily, you heard your son's excited squeals.

"Mommy, look what Daddy won." While Theo was running towards you, Bucky was trailing behind with two teddy bears in hand. One is bigger than the other. Bucky kneeled to get to Lily's height. He gave her the pink teddy bear with a smile for his favourite girl and got so many kisses and hugs in return. Then he got back to his feet and gave you the bigger white teddy bear, which you happily took from him happily.You tried so hard to listen to your boy as he told you how strong his father is and how he won over all the people standing at the game, but you couldn't. All you could think about was one thing. He remembered.

In your first few months of dating, Bucky took you to a carnival that had opened recently. It was such a fun date. However, Bucky established an important rule for your relationship. Whenever you were out at a carnival, an amusement park, or any other place possible, Bucky was going to win a teddy bear for you. And he did. You have a big box filled with teddy bears labelled Buckies with a Heart. According to him, all these teddy bears are going to keep you warm and safe, just like he is.

So when you looked at him, you wanted to see if he gave you the fluffy animal as a coincidence or if he really remembered. And you saw it. He did it out of tradition. Out of a promise he made over 11 years ago. You collected yourself. This day was about the kids, yet he somehow managed to steal your heart again.

You thought that after spending the day running and playing around, the kids would be tired, but they weren't. So Bucky drove the four of you to your favourite ice cream place. You sat in a booth near the window. You and Bucky were facing each other with a kid on each side. You ate ice cream while the kids talked about their week, and Bucky would also share how his week was. You were almost sure you were going to get kicked out because you were talking and laughing too loud. Which is why, before you left, Bucky left a very generous tip.

On your way back home, the kids' energy finally wore out, with both falling asleep almost immediately in the backseat, leaving you and Bucky talking in hushed voices. You've reached your house. You got out to carry one of them out, but Bucky beat you and carried both of them as if they weighted like feathers. You opened the door, and both of you went upstairs to the kids' room and changed them into their pyjamas, then kissed them good night.

Watching Bucky leave after a beautiful family day was hard. You wanted him to stay. You would go to bed together, talk about your favourite moments of the day, and hold each other. But you knew this was the right call. Two days of pure bliss aren't enough to make up for everything.

And without the two of you noticing, it became a routine.

The first day of the weekend would be a family day. You would spend the day together. The next day would be Bucky's day. They usually spent the day at Bucky's place, having a lazy day, worn out from yesterday's activities. Because your family day always consisted of fun activities to do together. A day at the park A Picnic. An aqurimium. Cinema. Always so much fun.

Your favourite was the beach day. Bucky planned the day ahead with you. Summer was approaching, so it was the perfect time. Watching the kids play with Bucky on the sand and swim in the clear water under the bright sun was a heartwarming sight. It was a breath of fresh air. That day, you took a picture of the four of you together, which ended up being your phone's lockscreen. Then Bucky took a picture of the three of you—you and kids—which ended up being his phone's lockscreen.

You started to feel like family again. In every sense, the word meant And not just because of the fun days you spent together, but because, in the face of hardships, you were a family. Like the time Lily had food poisoning, spent the night throwing up, and had a very bad fever. You called Bucky at 2 AM with tears and a shaky voice, telling him that Lily would almost pass out of the pain and you didn't know what to do anymore. By an unknown power, Bucky showed up at your doorstep less than ten minutes later in his pyjamas. You rushed to the emergency room with Lily in Bucky's arms, and you stayed in the waiting room with Theo, trying to ease your panic and not traumatise your boy. You couldn't leave him alone in the house, so you kept him seated on your lap, wrapped up in your arms, assuring him that his sister would be okay. A huge relief filled you when Bucky walked out and told you that Lily was better now. You had to stay the night at the hospital. But you had your family's support, and, most importantly, Bucky's support.

That night, Bucky took in his surroundings. It's 5 in the morning. His baby girl was sleeping peacefully on a hospital bed, the colours returning to her face. He was holding his son's sleeping figure securely in his lap. And you rested your head on his shoulder, finally feeling the stress die down. All of you were still in your sleepwear. Despite the panic the night had caused him, this was exactly where he belonged. Taking care of his family. Making sure they are safe. Looking after three of them. This is what he is supposed to do for the rest of his life. And just like that, all the remaining doubts evaporated; his demons left him. Nothing can make him leave this. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent promise that he would always be here. He would live his life by your side.

Despite your heart being full at the return of your family, you and Bucky were still a work in progress.

You and Bucky managed to steal time for just the two of you. Secret dates nobody knew about. You were still mainly using Sam for babysitter duties, but whenever he wasn't available, you would have to lie to your friends about where you were going or why you were so smiley.

Bucky managed to have a date at least once a week. It was always something you loved. Restaurants, Café shops, bookstores, and places that you enjoyed Sometimes, Bucky would bring back the act of you not knowing each other before. You always had more fun during these times. It felt like re-exploring your relationship.

Along with dates, there were the bouquets of flowers at your doorsteps every weekend, the lunch packed on your desk with the sweetest note every now and then, the small gifts you would find around the house, and the dreamy texts you would receive out of nowhere. Bucky was making it extremely hard not to get back, but you knew you needed your time. You needed to be sure he wouldn't just get bored.

That is why you avoided physical contact as much as you could. Bucky was indeed a very charming man, but his main love language was always physical touch. And of all the people, you were the one to know this the most. You had fallen under his magic far too many times. You knew the minute you felt his touch, you would give in immediately. Because his touch was captivating. It never hurts you. It always made you feel loved, safe, secured, wanted, and taken care of. You never understood how Bucky was able to express so much through his touch, but it was always so loud. So you kept physical contact to a minimum.

One time, you broke your own hidden rule. The kids were spending the night at their aunt Nat's house. So, you weren't surprised when Bucky showed up with takeout and your favourite snakes, ready for a movie night. It was supposed to be a normal movie night. You didn't know how you ended up on the roof. Each of you is wrapped in a comfortable blanket, watching the stars and moons in the sky. Stargazing was one of Bucky's favourite activities. You loved listening to him talk about the different stars. It was soothing. You didn't know how the conversation went from stars' names to serious topics. Deep questions flew around between the both of you.

Without giving it much thought, you asked Bucky if he could make a wish and know it would be granted. What would he wish for? His answer wasn't something you could have ever expected.

"I would wish that I would have been there for you when you lost the baby."

You didn't know how to feel. Your miscarriage was something you never talked about. Up until now, no one knew. You felt no need to tell them anyway. You moved on, supposedly. You saw in Bucky's eyes many questions, begging you to tell him everything. You had to be open and vulnerable. You knew this was necessary if you wanted to carry on again. Together. So you did. You told him everything.

When you found out, how did you feel, keeping it a secret, losing it, going to the hospital, getting back home, having the kids, everything. You never said this stuff out loud. They were kept hidden in the back of your mind, like it was someone else's story, not yours. But it was yours. It happened to you. You openly told Bucky that the worst part was the empty house. It left you with just yourself and the pain, both physical and emotional.

Bucky couldn't help it. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on his chest. He noticed the way you avoided his touch, and he understood. But this time he couldn't. It was too unbearable. The need to comfort you was overpowering. Hearing the full story was painful, but he wanted to. He had to. He wanted to know what it was like to go through such a thing alone. He wanted to do the thing he should have. Hold you.

You felt overwhelmed. Different emotions were hitting you. But the feeling of being surrounded by Bucky was the strongest. Deep apologies filled your ears. And you knew he meant it. However, you could only focus on him. This was why you avoided his touch. Because, exactly as you expected, him holding you was the only way for you to heal.

As the night carried on, it got too late without notice. You offered the guest room for Bucky to stay in tonight. A part of you didn't want to be alone tonight. You wouldn't invite Bucky back to your bedroom. You just wanted to know he was there. And he understood. Despite the sad topic that you approached, both of you went to bed with a smile on your faces. Something tells you that you were a lot closer to peace.

After that night, it got very hard for you to hide what was going on from your friends. Suspicion grew between your group. And you neither confirmed nor denied anything. Which was all the confirmation they needed. They respected your choice to not share until you wanted to. However, they didn't stop teasing both of you. Sharon and Natasha were having a field day with it. But they have already coordinated the threats and promises of torture to warn Bucky once you make it official again. They already regretted not doing it the first time. So this time, they would make sure Bucky wouldn't have to face your two very protective bestfriends.

You would always get teasing texts from all of them whenever they were on babysitter duty. Even if they were the ones to ask to have the kids. They would always make comments about the blossoming romance between you.

However, you never expected to receive this text. In the middle of the day, from Steve

"Why do I have a feeling that the fact that Bucky was unbelievably disgusted by this beautiful woman's, who was very much his type, flirting and turned her down so fast, has something to do with you?"

"And why has he been going on for almost half an hour now about how it is rude and disrespectful to hit on a taken man?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Rogers."

"I thought so, too."

"Heads up, He is calling your babysitter to come for the night."

Right after Steve's text, you got a text from Bucky that got you smiling.

"Hey,doll ♡♡ What do you think about coming over tonight to my place? I already called the babysitter."

Bucky was so offended by the flirting comments, and you weren't even back together. In his mind, he was only yours.

As you were approaching Bucky's place, an uneasy feeling started to go through you. You spent tonnes of time alone, both of you. However, you had never been to his place after that day. So was it a good idea to spend time there? You removed these thoughts quickly and knocked on the door. Bucky opened up with a smile that flattered your heart. He let you inside. The delicious smell instantly filled your nostrils. He told you dinner was almost ready. So you joined him in the kitchen, where you put the dessert you brought on the counter and helped as much as you could. It was peaceful. You and Bucky were cooking and eating, genuinely enjoying each other's company. After dinner, you moved to the living room, where you both sat on the couch, still talking. Unknowingly, you and Bucky found yourselves in a very serious and open conversation. A conversation about what really happened between the two of you. After so many dates, it was the right time. It was another important conversation that you had to have. Bucky poured his heart out to you, and you welcomed it. Everything that clouded his judgement Everything he thought he couldn't share. You understood why he would hesitate to say this, but you were his wife and his safe place. It was a long conversation. You shared your sides and talked about the miscommunication that happened. It felt like removing all the dirt so you could build again.

You turned to Bucky as you were about to leave after convincing Bucky that an Uber would do okay as long as you shared your location and texted him once you were home. You needed to tell him that.

"Just to make something clear for the future. There are millions of men in the world. Only you have my whole heart. Only you are perfect for me. Only you, I would choose every time."

It took every bit of power and self-control. Bucky had, so he wouldn't kiss you. Wouldn't hold you and never let you. Not to bring you in and worship you all his life. But he would wait. Bucky wasn't a patient man. However, he would wait all his life for you.

But today, Bucky's patience was being tested beyond what he could handle. It was supposed to be a normal day at work. He didn't think much of the meeting with a new business partner who was Steve's friend. He was thinking about your family day tomorrow and the time he was going to spend with you. But his thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he saw that man walking into his office. His biggest enemy That god of a man Thor Odinson.

You didn't mention Thor again that often, as it really meant only work for you. However, Bucky could never forget him, even if he wanted to. His hands around you weren't something Bucky could forgive. Which is why he knew this deal wasn't going to ever happen. Steve and Sam kept looking at Bucky, confused and questioningly, as they watched Bucky be extra rude and strict to the other man. It got to the point where Steve had to hit Bucky's leg under the table, but Bucky didn't care. He despised the man in front of him for obvious reasons.

It all stopped when Thor excused himself to answer his wife. Before Steve or Sam could open their mouths to scold Bucky, he turned to Steve quickly, asking if he knew Thor's wife. Steve told him that Thor had been happily married for over six years now. Steve was offended on behalf of his friend when Bucky asked if Thor was the kind of guy to cheat. Before Bucky could know more, Thor returned and apologised. "Sorry, but I always answer my wife. I don't let my wife's calls go to voicemail." And just like that, Thor became someone Bucky could tolerate. The meeting went well after that. Bucky was more focused and open to the deal.

Everything made sense for Steve and Sam as Thor was leaving, and he mentioned your name. "And please, send my regards to her. It was a pleasure working with her. I'm sure working with her life partner would be just the same." Thor was a smart man. He knew Bucky was more than just your kids' father. And Bucky liked that. He was indeed your life partner.

Planning dates was more Bucky's thing. Unless there was somewhere you wanted to go or something you wanted to do, Bucky was usually the one to make the plans. So he couldn't say he wasn't surprised when he got a text from you with a location, asking him to meet you there and to dress nice. Bucky also couldn't say his heart didn't flatter at the thought of you being comfortable putting in efforts again with him. For him.

And he listened to you. He cleaned up nicely. And went to the place you chose. He tried to keep his heart from bursting when he saw the place. It was your bar. The classic bar that held so many memories Your first anniversary, your first date as an engaged couple, and your first date as a married couple. A special place. Bucky didn't bring you to the bar the past few months because he didn't want to overwhelm you or make you rush your decision. But he couldn't help but have hope for tonight.

He didn't wait long before you were there. Bucky always wondered if there was ever going to be a time when you didn't take his breath away. He knew the answer was no. Bucky would always be enchanted by you. You walked to him, wearing his favourite dress that he always loved, then joined him at the table he picked. Right when he thought he could recover from your beauty, his eyes caught sight of something that left him breathless. You were wearing your wedding rings. Bucky could swear he almost shed a tear or two. He didn't want to read too much into the situation, but his heart was doing little dances, making him more hopeful for tonight.

You still find it fascinating that after so many years, conversations never died down between you and Bucky. There was always something for you to talk about. To laugh about. And you wanted it to be like this always. You never wanted silence to take place between the two of you again. And you had a feeling it wasn't.

Bucky's smile was too big when you asked if he wanted to dance. He stood up, offering you his hand, which you took gladly. The bar had a small area in the middle for dancing, which was now only occupied by you and Bucky. The soft music was playing, his arm around your waist, yours around his neck, your fingers intertwined together, and you were swaying to the music. Bucky could swear this was heaven. You were his heaven.

And if his heart could take more. Your song started playing. And Bucky looked at you as if you hung the stars and the moon. His eyes were showing all his love for you. And you took this as your sign. That what you were doing was right. What you planned to do was the right decision.

The night was magical. A night of your dreams. Bucky dropped you off. And got out of the car to open your door. But you still had one thing to do. You moved a little as if you were getting inside, but then you turned to Bucky, who was still waiting by the car, making sure you got inside safely.

"Do you think if we go to the same lawyers, they will give us a discount on the marriage this time?"

Bucky could swear his heart jumped from his chest. His lungs were working overtime to keep him breathing.

"I don't know. But I will pay everything I have, if that is what it takes."

You were standing in front of him, wrapping your hands around his neck. His arms came around your waist instinctively.

"So you want to get married again?"

"Never wanted anything more in my life."

Bucky couldn't resist anymore. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his. Like pieces of a puzzle put together, a cold breeze of air after a blazing day, rain after drought, home after exile—everything felt alright.

The kiss was gentle, soft, and sweet. Both of you are pouring all your emotions into it. No pain. No confusion. No regret. Only true love.

You broke the kiss, maintaining eye contact. You said it all with your eyes. And Bucky understood. You stood on your tiptoes to bury your face in his neck, needing to feel him once again. Bucky tightened his arm around you. At that moment, Bucky felt like he owned the world.

By a miracle, you loved him so much that you forgave him and let him have you again. And he would never waste your trust or love again. He would never hurt you again. He is going to live all his life doing one thing. Loving you

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @almosttoopizza @ragingrainbowshipl @dexter99 @xdarkcreaturex @nash-dara @paarthurnax59 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @unaxv @missmielyhoran @wintermischief @kandis-mom @aboobie @ozwriterchick @pattiemac1 @noahspickettfence @a--1--1--3 @elsie-bells

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gotasenseivebeenbetrayed · 5 months

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loml

"Still alive, killing time at the cemetery Never quite buried"

"Who's gonna stop us from waltzing Back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway"

This is giving heavy "Style" vibes specifically if the "never quite buried" because they come back every time.

Two Ghosts Vibes:

"Holy Ghost, you told me I'm The love of your life"

"Stitching, "We were just kids, babe"

"Dancing phantoms on the terrace"

"We're not who we used to be"

"We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat"

"Stitching, "We were just kids, babe"

The fact she uses stitching seem honestly random to the point I feel like she definitely added it to indicate his stiches/aka "Out Of The Woods".

Obvious, "love of my life" reference:

"Baby, you were the love of my life"

"You said I'm the love of your life"

"Who's gonna tell me the truth When you blew in with the winds of fate? And told me I reformed you When your impressionist paintings of Heaven Turned out to be fakes Well, you took me to hell, too And all at once, the ink bleeds A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme But I felt a hole like this Never before, and ever since"

"You cinephile in black and white"

This whole thing feels like more of a jab at young Harry, he was known as a playboy and he kept playing with her heart. At some point he told her she'd "changed him" because he just wanted her. The talks of paintings, ink bleeding and the "never before, and ever since" all screams at me a mixture of "the rest of the World was black and white but we were in screaming color" and then "Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?" from the male's POV in Coney Island as well as "you've taught me a secret language and you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else". Also how Harry's entire feed was B&W for a long time on Instagram before 1989 release.

"Mr. Steal Your Girl, then make her cry"

I mean 1D has a song called "Steal My Girl" as well as the fact I do believe he "stole" her from Calvin and probably Joe at some points.

"'Cause something counterfeit's dead"

"Should've let it stay buried"

"A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme"

Both of these give Cowboy Like Me Vibes

#haylor

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ikeasharksss · 1 year

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here's the thing. i think will in mortal aus would be a good doctor. a solid, in character choice. but canon will? hm. that's a bit more complicated

none of the demigods we meet in the rrverse are, like, Thrilled about their godly parent's guardianship. like percy isn't a marine biology freak who spends every summer at the beach before he realizes he's the son of poseidon. & even after he realizes, he's never like "oh my GODS i have such a PASSION for CONEY ISLAND!!!!" we don't see that in anyone else either: piper doesn't care for beauty much before & after she is claimed, nico didnt show any hades traits before bianca died & he goes rogue, and frank was actually afraid of showing aggression (around others at least) before he was claimed if i remember son right. the only exception i can think of is leo bc he worked in his mom's garage as a kid. but even then, he isn't a mechanic bc of his dad, he's a mechanic bc of his mom. (we don't know how academic-oriented annabeth was before she came to chb. it's possible that, bc she came so young, she formed her childhood personality around athena, since she had nothing else to hold on to.) so, therefore, i don't think demigods are enthusiastic about their godly parent's guardianship specifically bc of their godly parent. i don't think will would be enthusiastic about being a doctor just bc of apollo.

being a healer at a summer camp & being a field medic in a monster war is very different from being a doctor in a clinic, hospital, or private practice. the type of illnesses, injuries, & disorders a doctor sees in the field would be very different from what will sees in his healer career. we don't actually see much of the healing process in the books outside of ambrosia & nectar, but it's obvious that will would never use them if he became a real doctor. i don't think his healing skills would translate into doctor skills.

additionally, ive seen a lot of ppl in the fandom point out that will would have to relearn all his medical knowledge if he went to med school. that's true! add in his adhd & i don't think will would be to happy to sit through 7(?) years of school learning things he either A) already knows or B) would never use bc he has healing powers.

sure, i think will would CONSIDER becoming a doctor. it makes sense! that's the only life he's ever known! but i think he'd go get a bachelor's in biology & realize after like 3 semesters that it sucks.

"but tumblr user ikeasharksss!" i hear you say. "what profession would will go into if he isn't a doctor!!!!" oh don't worry. Don't Worry. he'd go into pharmaceutical sciences.

hear me out! ive already said we don't know much about healing outside of ambrosia & nectar. & those are basically just the demigod equivalent of mortal medications. will already works so closely w/ them, so it'd make sense for him to be interested in creating an alternative that is safe for mortals. in pharmaceutical science, will could research & make mortal medicine!! it would scratch his innate need to help ppl while also engaging his mortal side!!!!!

thanks baes

#aaaand POST #i have class in the morning #will solace #pjo #hoo #toa #tsats

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tedwardremus · 4 months

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What kind of dates do you think Harry and Ginny go on? I think they are super fun-loving thrill seekers. Harry was denied so many happy experiences when he was younger and I bet Ginny fantasized about all the things she would do when she was older and had money and finally some freedom. So, I think they are super fun and they travel a lot. Basically act like two big kids even when they are 35 or 45. They do things like order every dessert item on a restaurant's menu. They do dumb challenges like try every cereal and rank them from best to worst. Make a list of every single theme park and all the best rides and try to experience every single one (they def took Teddy to Disney World and paid for the VIP treatment so he could eat with Mickey Mouse). They do bucket list things like spend Christmas in NYC (Harry loves it because the muggles are distant and rude and that's totally his vibe) and spend New Years on Sydney Harbour watching the fireworks on the beach (one of Ginny's fave ever memories). When the kids have birthdays they are the aunt and uncle that rent the bouncy castle and water slide and rent a fckn pony for the kids to ride. They are FUN. For Christmas they do a build the nicest gingerbread house challenge with the kids and its super competitive. One time Ginny shows up at Hogwarts and says there is an emergency and the kids need to go with her and they are like wtf and then they meet Harry in Hogsmeade and take a portkey to Coney Island (Hermione is so furious and yells at H/G over this because it's SO childish and irresponsible - Ron is like please don't tell her I went with you she thought I was at work).

It was a difficult undertaking to plan a date night when your boyfriend happened to be the most famous wizard in the entire world. Everywhere they went, the press was sure to follow. And if not the press, then someone would try to tell Harry how amazing he was and ask for an autograph. Either way, if they spent too long in public, Harry would get spotted, and his mood would turn sour.

There was always the Leaky Cauldron—Hannah would ensure they had a private booth. But the Leaky was crowded and noisy and they spend so much time hanging out with friends there it didn't really feel like a date night location.

There were always weekend getaways to Romania to the Dragon Reserve to see Charlie or France with Bill and Fleur. But family trips, while fun, were not romantic.

They'd head out to Muggle London, go to the zoo, and once Harry took her to the movies. But if she was honest, Ginny didn’t understand the hype and much preferred reading her books or listening to stories on the wireless.

Or they’d go out with Hermione and Ron, but again—a date that included brothers was automatically not romantic.

Then there was coordinating their busy schedules. When Ginny didn’t have a game, she was usually training, and now that she was on the national team as well as the Harpies, her schedule was even more hectic.

Harry, of course, was busy not just with Auror training but also various committees to reform the Ministry. He always did his best to spend a day or two a week with Teddy—even if it was just a quick mealtime hello.

That’s why their best dates tended to be quiet ones at home. Just the two of them in the safe sanctuary they had built together. Away from public eyes, dark magic, and intrusive press. They’d play music records—a mix of wizard and Muggle music. Do silly dances while they cooked. Sometimes dinner turned out well, and sometimes they ended up walking to the nearby village to get takeaway when it turned into a disaster. But they had been living together for a couple of years, and Ginny was confident that their cooking was improving.

They’d share a bottle of wine and start a fire. Afterwards, Harry would look at her and ask if she wanted to fly.

She always said yes.

And in the cover of darkness, they’d fly. And they’d be free. It was wonderful—to reach out and touch the stars and have the love of your life hold your hand in return.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #toadbutter

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hoaxriot · 1 year

Text

FOR THE FIRST TIME

pairings. sirius black x fem!reader

synopsis. years had passed and your daughter was at hogwarts. your husband was out and had not showed himself yet.

notes. this is part two coney island! i also put a name for the kid but you can imagine any other name or gender i just chose this so it would be easier to write. this follows the scenes of the movie in the shrieking shack. idk why i wrote most of the scene but i felt it was important and some things are a bit different.

it had been years since your friends were murdered by one of your best friends and your husband was put in askaban for it. of course, years since you had given birth to your only kid, your daughter— celeste. she had become your entire world after she was born.

you continued to live with remus after because you still needed that help and he was glad to do it. his dream became true and he had became uncle moony.

celeste’s first words were moony and he was thrilled about it, soon after she turned one you moved back home but he was still around. life had started to become better as celeste grew up, everything was okay again. you still missed your friends dearly but after celeste you knew you could not stay in bed all day, she made you happy.

when your daughter started to grow you knew she was a wizard which made you happy. time came around where she could finally understand that other families had a father around and she didn’t.

the right age, you sat her down and explained to her in the best way possible with remus to help.

then it was time for celeste to go to hogwarts and you to become a professor. ever since then, life had been better. your daughter was sorted into gryffindor and she had found herself friends, she was happy so you were too. of course, one of her friends were harry potter which made you happy but he had not know you even though his father was your best friend.

just days before now, you had learned the truth about who killed your friends and who was framed because of remus lupin. that’s how you found yourself running into the whomping willow like you had done multiple times before.

your daughter was in there, you knew of it. you watched as remus shoved the door open and yell a spell. you ran in behind him to see your husband, sirius black on the floor with remus pointing his wand at him. you looked up to see your daughter standing beside hermione with fear struck in her eyes.

moving your eyes back to your husband who was being pulled up by remus into a hug, “i found him!” you heard sirius say causing a frown to come upon your lips. sirius had not noticed you standing behind remus.

“let’s kill him.” sirius said pulling away from the hug, you still stood frozen behind remus. too in shock, your husband was in front of you while your kid was a few feet away from you. sirius was older just like you, he has a beard and he still wore his askaban clothing.

hermione started to yell at remus causing him to turn towards the girl, then sirius saw you. it didn’t feel real the way you stood in front him, you looked the same as you did the night he got taken away. sirius has waited for this moment since then, he saw you look towards the kids. confused he sees you meeting eye contact with one that looked like him and you. was that—

he got distracted by remus and his anger. remus told him to wait after he started to yell.

“i did my waiting! twelve years of it… in askaban!” sirius yelled in desperation causing tears to evade your eyesight and your daughter to flinch.

remus gave his wand to sirius, “very well, kill him. but wait one more minute. harry has the right to know why.” the potter boy started to yell at sirius and remus blaming him for the death of his parents. he had every right to, he didn’t know. then professor snape came in. harry then yelled a spell and he went flying. celeste scrambled back against the wall causing you to look at her in sadness, this must’ve been so confusing for her.

then somehow sirius got rons rat from him and turned him back to what he truly was, peter pettigrew. they dragged him from the hole in the wall, pushing him into the middle of the room. sirius grabbed your hand and pushed you behind him a bit.

of course, peter tried to play nice in some way but he was failing miserably. he also failed at trying to get his way. now you were walking behind the granger girl with your daughter as she held onto your hand tightly. she always thought she would run straight into her father’s arms but neither of you did.

once you climbed out of the whomping willow, sirius put ron down and celeste dragged you away.

“mom, why didn’t you hug dad?” she questioned letting go of your hand facing you, you smiled sweetly at her.

“i wanted to, badly. things were a bit difficult down there.” the both of you laughed lightly. your smiled dropped when you saw sirius making his way to the two of you. celeste noticed your expression and before she could say or do anything you took off in a jog to jump into sirius’s arms.

sirius caught you with a large smile as he wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging onto, all the years he missed with you. you still had the same vanilla smell to you, the same grip you always had on him when the two of you hugged.

there was just one thing different— the kid watching you, the kid who immediately ran into your arms and stayed with you until now. you could feel sirius lose his grip on your jacket, you knew what he was looking at so you pulled away still holding onto his arm.

“c’mere.” you said to him as you pulled his arm towards celeste, you felt her nervousness so you smiled at her.

“sirius, this is celeste,” you saw his smile grow at the name, he had brought the name up one time when you two were talking about kids, “celeste, this is sirius… your father, as you know.” you spoke looking at her, she was quiet which scared sirius until she threw herself into him, very hardly causing him to let out a small ‘hmph.’

nonetheless, he hugged her back. you smiled at the interaction. he then heard her start to cry, your smile dropped a bit but you knew she was just like you and cried at overwhelming times. sirius then brought his hand to her head rubbing it comfortingly. at that action, she gripped onto him harder.

sirius opened his eyes to see your eyes filled with tears, he laughed a bit also knowing how you were, crying when you were happy. celeste heard him and pulled away to see you as a tear fell down your cheek.

“mum!” she laughed at you making you gasp playfully, “don’t mum me, you’re crying too.” you spoke pointing at her tear covered face. she then copied your playful gasp.

“don’t mind me, i just met my dad.” celeste joked causing sirius to laugh, she had humor just like him which made him smile as he laughed. he moved to stand beside you wrapping his arm around your waist.

“let’s go home,” he whispered into your ear but then you were distracted by each other again when remus started to transform causing the moment to be ruined.

that night was only a few nights ago, but now you were sitting in the noble house of black on the floor around the coffee table playing a game with celeste and sirius.

games had become something you and celeste did every night she was home, sirius was more than glad to be apart of that.

he finally had what he has always wanted, you— his wife. a kid who loved him and who he loved, giving her a life he had never once had. he was free and happy.

#marauders #marauder era #sirius black #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #sirius black x oc

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auspicioustidings · 1 year

Text

Lost Boys

Summary: Shameless COD Lost Boys AU as an excuse to try writing some smut because @ohbo-ohno has been killing me.

Words: 3.7k

CW: Dubcon bordering on noncon, rough sex

One thing about Santa Carla she could not stomach? All the damn locals.

She was used to working in Coney Island and she had thought this boardwalk out in California wouldn't be much different. She had been immediately proven wrong when she had arrived a week ago, moving in to a falling apart cabin out on the edge of town that Keegan had sworn up and down would be her dream home if she was willing to fix it up. He hadn't really explained how he came to own the place, but then he was the definition of a carny if she ever knew there to be one. She was pretty sure there wasn't one amusement park that man had not worked at, although conversations always seemed to draw back to Santa Carla.

It wasn't like his charming convincing had been the only reason she'd found herself here. She loved Coney Island, had practically grown up on the Thunderbolt, was damn near inconsolable when they shut it 5 years ago. But Coney Island now was not the same as the one she grew up with, everyone who worked there felt it. The rides were falling apart, closing or being torn down. Two people she knew had been shot this year alone. The place turned into an open air brothel at night it felt like, and not in the fun way back when it had all been music and moonlight and sex and rock and roll. It was sad.

Plus she was dirt poor, the decline of the amusements meaning she wasn't picking up as much work. If Keegan had wormed his way into her head with all his talk about how dangerous a neighbourhood she lived in, how much safer an actual house would be, how if someone would renovate it he wouldn't even charge rent because it would really help him out since he was currently travelling, well then she had been stupid enough not to pick up on the obvious trap.

Falling apart and very eerily decorated cabin aside, her first day on the Boardwalk felt like a series of increasing red flags. She loved the scent of the place, the bright cars grinding against their chains as they were dragged bodily up to the summit of the coaster under the hot sun, the sticky sweetness of candy apples being cut through with the salt the surfers dragged with them from the sea, the slight undertone of something mischievous, something even sinister. Any boardwalk she had been to had that same undercurrent, the same lurking sense of danger that sent her heartbeat running in excitement. This one it was dialled all the way to 11.

"Oi chiquita! I've not seen you around here before."

She turned. Surfer, well 2 of them actually. The one who had spoken was older than her in a way that really made his handsomeness cause her to scold herself. No sleeping with older men on your first day in a new city, even if the accent was like molasses. The one next to him was younger. Both incredible looking if she was honest, Keegan had not been kidding when he had said the people in Santa Carla were deathly attractive.

"Maybe I'm a tourist" she replied.

"Ah a pretty thing like you visiting all alone? You'll get eaten right up" said the other, both of them looking at her with an amusement over a joke she was not in on.

"Good thing I'm so bitter then, reckon I'll get spat right back out."

They laughed and she kept a light look of friendly amusement on her face, internally thinking that these guys were rude as fuck. She near jumped out of her skin when she felt a breath at her neck, whipping her head around to find a female surfer had sniffed at her throat.

"Ella huele dulce, ella sabrá más dulce" the newcomer purred.

"Atrás Valeria" the older man snapped.

"You're so up tight Alejandro" Valeria laughed meanly before turning to look at her, eyes dragging up and down in heated appraisal. "If you get bored of them, you'll come find me won't you dalzura?"

With that the woman sauntered off towards the beach, all arrogance and sex appeal. It wasn't like she hadn't heard her fair share of pick-up lines and come ons, it was practically a given when you worked at places like these, but it was rarer for a woman to come on to her and rarer still for the woman to have such an aggression about her. She'd be lying if it didn't cause a little spark of excitement to zip up her spine.

Alejandro and the other man watched Valeria go with something like suspicion.

"Be careful after dark, the boardwalk gets crowded with all sorts" the younger man said with a knowing wink.

"If you're still around tomorrow in the sunshine, me and Rudy will be on the waves" Alejandro added before they both took off after Valeria, seemingly intent on getting into some sort of fight.

Odd trio she thought, but most people who lived near places like this were. The locals only got odder as the day went on.

An absolute giant of a man in a hood whose eyes had narrowed in on her when she passed him, an exhibit in a freak show. The chains on him must have been for show, but the way they strained when he had lunged at her actually did make her jump.

The Southern man who seemed to have some sort of control over all of the game stalls, told her when she had tried out the ring toss that his shadows had been telling him she had won most of the games she had tried but not taken any prizes. It ran a chill up her spine the way he eyed her when he introduced himself, the name Graves spilling off his tongue like whisky.

The one who actually gave her a job, Alex, seemed normal enough, the only thing out of the ordinary being a false leg. Well normal enough until it became apparent he was very knowledgeable about Santa Carla being the murder capital of the world. She didn't like that he spoke about it like it was something exciting, but as long as she had money in hand to operate a carousel she could overlook his quirks. He told her she could work the evening shift after watching her carefully run through things, proving that this was all familiar to her. This one had brass rings, she knew she'd probably spend her evening ducking out of the way of them when rowdy ride goers decided they would rather hit someone than redeem the ring for a free ride.

With the last wash of sunlight she wandered the shops around the area, sliding into a video store just as night fell to see if she couldn't find something to watch when she would get home after her first shift. Maybe Hellraiser was out on VHS now, she had missed it in the theatre and Keegan had told her it was fun.

"Hello there. John Price, how can I help?"

Back in New York it wasn't uncommon to hear a British accent, but this was the first one she had heard here. The man it came from was tall and had a hell of a beard. Bit eccentric looking with a fishing hat on his head, but with the people she was coming across today that seemed par for the course.

"Hi sir! Is Hellraiser out yet?" she asked as politely as she could muster. She knew that she was as much a carny as Keegan and that it tended to make respectable older people intensely dislike her from the get go if she didn't do everything to assure them she was an upstanding young lady.

"Horror fan?"

"A friend recommended it, to be honest I'm not sure what it's about."

She heard the bell going off, more people coming into the store. Her eyes caught on them, not least because one of them was in a skull mask. Tall as well, God so many people on this Boardwalk dwarfed her. Mr Price reacted very much like he knew them and was keeping an eye on them. The one with the mohawk was staring openly at her, leaning over to whisper something to the one with the moustache. Probably trouble makers, young men who lived in the area and were generally a nuisance on the Boardwalk. It got her back up a little, she had always hated people like them bullying everyone else, menacing businesses in the area because they were bored.

Mr Price had his arms crossed as him and the masked one stared at one another. To try de-escalate whatever this was she put a hand gently to one of his forearms.

"I'm happy to take any recommendations from you though."

Her attempt both worked and failed. Mr Price did turn his attention back to her, giving her a soft smile that all but made her melt. He seemed like a genuinely lovely man, the first one of the day. It was somewhat ruined by the boisterous laughter of the one with the mohawk.

"Look at this wee lassie, speaking all bonnie" he laughed, his rumbling accent and mocking putting her firmly in a place between annoyed and aroused.

He took a few steps forward, getting into her space. God he didn't half loom over her and he was not even the tallest man here. With him on one side of her and Mr Price on the other she felt like a prey animal. She could not tear her eyes away from the Scottish man as he grinned down at her. He was magnetic in the way watching an acrobat was, it felt like someone could die at any moment but she couldn't help but look. His rough hand carded through her hair and settled at her neck and she was sure he was about to kiss her. There was something terrifying about his presence the more she was in it, if he kissed her she thought her fight or flight might fail her and go instead to freeze.

"That's enough" Mr Price said, snapping her out of the odd trance she felt she was in. "You have a shift to get to love, on you go" he continued, putting a firm hand to the small of her back and steering her a little to get her moving towards the door.

The other man only moved when the one in the mask wrapped a gloved hand around the back of his neck, squeezing like she imagined someone would do to an errant mutt. It wasn't until she was out in the open air and gulping in breaths that she realised she had never told Mr Price she had a shift that evening. Word must travel fast here she supposed.

Her first night on the Boardwalk had put her out of her mind. God it was like being punched in the face with the ghost of what Coney Island should have been; swarmed with bodies that choked out all the oxygen, making it difficult to breathe anything that wasn't thick with the taste of the writhing masses. It made her sick in a way that bordered on delirium.

The carousel was always full, the music throbbing all the way into her molars. The bright colours flooding with artificial light meant she couldn't see much beyond the machine, feeling like she existed on a tiny island of horses and bodies. Touch was the only sense she felt she could trust now, a sensation that was what made her fall in love with this line of work in the first place. She would drag her hands past the horses, grip the brass rings so tight it made her knuckles white before returning them to the dispenser for the next person to try their hand, walk against the direction of the floor just to feel the breeze prickle goosebumps on her skin.

The hand on her arm felt searing hot.

"There you are, didn't even introduce yourself before you were running off like a scared little doe."

The man in the skull mask had a voice like gravel, speaking right into her ear to be heard over the music. It made it feel intimate knowing that the sound of him would not travel to anyone else, that it was only for her. She could not let him know that she was scared of him, of any of them. If she was going to work here, she needed the locals to know she could hold her own, that she wasn't someone for them to mess around with.

"I'm not scared, certainly not of you" she lied, puffing out her chest.

"Prove it."

He left her standing there dumbstruck, shaking and feeling slick between her legs from the way he had growled it into her ear. The moment he was off of the carousel it was like he had melted into the crowd beyond. Alex showed up at some point, she didn't know how long it had been, and told her that he would take over. His eyes were bright and excited and it made her want to throw up.

He was waiting for her, the skull mask man. Her stomach was doing flips at the sight of him on a bike. She thought it might fully turn itself inside out when the Scottish man materialised behind her, pressing his nose to her pulse point before tugging at her earlobe with his teeth. Sharp, they felt sharp.

"Ghost says yer naw a fraidey cat, reckons you'd be willing to prove it" he cooed into her ear, big hands wrapping around her waist and lifting her onto the back of the bike behind Ghost. "Better hold on, he's naw going tae go slow."

Before she could get herself right back off of the bike one of Ghost's hands grabbed her arm, wrenching it around his waist and holding it there in a vice grip. When the bike took off she had little choice but to wrap the other arm around to avoid being thrown off, screaming into his ear to let her go. He did, putting his second hand back to the handles. At the speed they were going it didn't help, she had to keep clinging. She heard the howling of the Scottish man, on his own bike speeding along next to them.

She was scared out of her mind but the solidness of the body she was wrapped around and the hard vibrating of the seat between her legs was torturous in a way that was so sickeningly incompatible with her fear.

When they stopped she was dazed, trying to resist the whine that wanted to escape when the engine cut out and the bike stilled beneath her. The body in front of her shifted, moving until he was sat facing her. She put her hands to his shoulders, meaning to use them as leverage to push herself up and off the bike but instead The Scottish man pushed her back down from behind, his hand quickly moving from her shoulders down her front.

"Fuck baby, ye enjoy that huh? Could see ye grinding down whenever Si revved up" he groaned, groping roughly at her tits.

This was wrong, she should not be here. She should not be doing this. The adrenaline was so she could get out of this situation, not so she could moan loudly when his fingers found her nipple and fucking twisted.

"I already know you're soaked, can smell it pet" Ghost said, almost cruel, before biting off a glove and shoving a hand into her pants. He stroked two fingers up the length of her cunt, making sure his nail caught her clit the second time and laughing at her when she cried out at the sensation. Watching him withdraw his hand and show his glistening fingers to the man behind her made humiliation burn through her.

"Open up Johnny."

She was caught in the middle of them as Johnny took Ghost's fingers in his mouth, moaning as he messily suckled her off of them. There was no music here, no crowds to cover the noises of Johnny sloppily choking himself on Ghost's fingers, his saliva dripping onto her shoulder.

"Please Si, please let me eat her" he begged around Ghost's fingers and fuck if that didn't make her clench.

"Patience Johnny" Ghost scolded in response, withdrawing his fingers and grabbing at her jeans, pulling them off of her. It was a little awkward with how they were positioned, but once he got one leg off of her foot he just left her jeans dangling from the other, not bothering to get them all the way off now that he had the access he wanted.

The cool night air smacked onto her bare skin like an open palm. He rucked up her shirt next, pushing her down until her lower back hit the bike in the process so that her head was hanging off the end, lined right up with Johnny's dick which was visibly straining against his pants.

She tried to bring herself back up only to scream when a hand slapped hard onto her pussy, the thin fabric of her soaked panties doing little to soften the blow.

"Stay fucking still doll unless I tell you otherwise" Ghost growled at her.

He didn't take her panties off, just shoved them out of the way so he could spear two fingers into her. She yelped, trying to move back but only managed to grind her face against Johnny who growled long and low.

"So fucking tight" Ghost hissed, pumping his fingers in and out, "Johnny get her to relax would you?"

She could hardly breathe when Johnny leaned over her, clothed dick pushing relentlessly against her face, so that he could grip onto her hips and start lapping at her clit over her panties. She weakly pounded her fists against his thighs but if he could feel it then he wasn't reacting, seemingly lost in the task at hand.

"That's it, such a little slut for it, making a fucking mess of my bike."

It was overwhelming, the lack of oxygen, the feeling of Johnny sucking and licking at her clit like he was made for it, the fingers pistoning in and out, Ghost's degrading. Her hips tried desperately to buck up but Johnny only growled like an animal and held them roughly down as she came, not letting up for even a second.

The tears were streaming from her eyes by the time they made her cum again, a delicious stretch coming from Ghost adding a third finger. Johnny was rock hard against her face, rutting into her and starting to whine.

"Si, please. Please I'll be good. I'll be so good. Need her bonnie mouth around my cock or I'm gonna die. Please" he begged incoherently.

She was boneless when Johnny stood, giving her some breathing room. The pathetic whine she gave when Simon's fingers left her cunt should have been embarrassing, but she was barely able to formulate a full thought. The sound of clothing being adjusted should have been the first clue that they were nowhere near done. The sight of a throbbing cock at her lips was a pretty big second one.

"Come on, there ye go lass, fuuuuuck that's it" Johnny hissed as he pushed himself into her mouth. Nobody had ever been in her mouth at this angle, her head dangling upside down. He kept pushing in even when her panic response set in at the intrusion, hands battering against his legs and she gagged around him and tried to shift away, further towards where Ghost was sitting.

She screamed around the cock in her throat when Ghost rammed himself into her.

"I said stay fucking still!" he growled, leaving no time for adjustment before setting a hard and fast pace, every thrust sending her jolting back onto Johnny's dick.

Fuck it was so much, she was so full, she couldn't fucking breathe. Johnny had a hand around her throat, feeling his own bulge there as he fucked in and out of her.

"Steamin' Jesus, you take cock like a fucking dream bonnie."

The reverence he said it with sent her hurtling towards another orgasm, the pain still just on the side of pleasure.

"Fucking slut, trying to milk me aren't you? Want me to cum in this pretty little cunt and knock you up doll? Is that it?"

"Fuck Si, need tae cum, please let me cum."

Ghost was growling, not giving her a break as he fucked her through her orgasm to the point that the overstimulation was painful. Johnny's thrusts were erratic now, making it even harder to figure out when to breathe.

"Earn it, make her cum again."

She was pretty sure she would die if she came again, but Johnny leaned over her body and went right back to work, slobbering all over her clit as Ghost continued to mercilessly piston in and out of her. She tried to squirm, tried to do anything to get Johnny's mouth the fuck off of her. The hand around her throat squeezed.

"Fucking take it" he growled against her clit, a sharp sting from an incisor grazing against it jolting her before he sucked hard. She howled around his cock and felt herself squeeze hard against Ghost's as she saw stars.

"That's it, good fucking girl" Ghost hissed, burying himself to the hilt and letting that delicious squeeze milk him dry inside her.

She was so thoroughly fucked out that when Johnny came down her throat she couldn't swallow, just choking and sputtering as she hung limply off of the bike. When hands gently pushed her back up so she was sat upright the blood all rushing back down from her head made her pass out.

It could have been seconds or hours later when she screamed herself back into consciousness, feeling the sharp sting of teeth sinking into the flesh of her throat.

#cod #ghoap au #ghoap x reader #dark fic #cod lost boys au #mhairiwrites

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