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tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

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mercury — suna rintarou

1k words | genre/s: fluff!!, established relationship | warning/s: swearing, word throw-up | pairing: suna x f!reader

↪︎ in which mercury is in retrograde and all you want to do is to lay down and stargaze with the boy you love most while the world sleeps

a/n: mercury is coming into retrograde at the time of posting this and all i want is my lonely ass to stargaze with someone </3

suna held back a yawn. “is there any reason why you decided to wake me up at one in the morning just to take you here?” his voice muttered, still deep from his waking slumber as you two trudged up a hill.

your bikes were left at the base of it, laying on their sides as you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend. he was lagging behind even when his fingers were tightly interlaced with yours. you tugged him up to the apex of the hill, dropping his hand just for him to whine at the sudden disappearance of your contact.

“i was feeling stressed out with the amount of homework we were given and wanted to relax,” you explain over your shoulder, your eyes never leaving the night sky even for a moment. “aren’t they beautiful?”

the question was more or less rhetorical. Who wouldn’t find stars and their constellations pretty?

suna’s eyes flick upwards towards the sky for a few seconds before bringing his attention back to you–still looking up in awe with a smile so adorable he could literally combust right then and there.

“these stars are nothing compared to the ones i’ve seen in your eyes,” suna had never been quite a flirt with anyone, not even you. he wasn’t really sure where it came from, maybe he was delirious, but you laughed and flashed that addicting grin of yours when you finally looked at him.

“funny,” you mused as your hand finds his again. “did atsumu teach you that one?”

you lead him a little farther up the hill before kneeling onto the grass. it was cool against your skin as suna followed your actions.

“came up with that one myself actually… why, are you proud of me for coming up with it?” suna smiles to himself smugly as he watches you lay on the grass, eyes falling onto the stars above you once again.

he was about to complain about you laying on the grass, but he honestly couldn’t be bothered. at this point, getting to spend time like this with you almost felt like a dream. he honestly couldn’t pass up the opportunity to savor this time with you.

you hummed a response, “could be better.”

suna rests his arm behind his head. you scoot closer to him, finding relief in his warmth when you lay your head in the crook of his neck. with your hand splayed over his chest, you gave him a quick peck before the stars captured your attention.

your eyes wandered the night sky, admiring each and every star, counting them as if they were spilled salt on a black table cloth.

a comfortable silence engulfs the two of you. nothing but the sound of the cicadas chirping, the light breeze traveling through the air, and the sounds of your boyfriend’s breathing syncing up with yours.

you could feel each beat of his heart against your hand. speeding up every time you give him a kiss or say how much you love him.

you felt so at peace you had practically forgotten why you wanted to come here in the first place. since last week there was an impending feeling within your gut. from getting stressed out more easily to the feeling that nothing is going right, there is nothing in the world where you can blame this natural feeling on. well... anything besides the fact that mercury was in retrograde.

“is that a–wait no, nevermind, that’s just an airplane,” he says with a chuckle reverberating through his toned chest.

telling suna that the only reason why you brought him here was that a planet was going in reverse was an invitation for his teases. he’d say something like “i’m sure a planet that’s millions of miles isn’t causing your frustration, babe…”

it didn’t matter though as you would give anything to spend time with him like this—outside of school, outside of volleyball, and definitely without the twins who liked to third and fourth wheel all the time.

“shooting star, make a wish,” he says this time with sure conviction.

you’re pulled out of your train of thought as your eyes refocus on the night sky, scouring for the said shooting star. you would tease the fuck out of him if he were wrong again.

“that’s actually a comet, but i’ll still make one just for you.” you laugh as he rolls his eyes.

“same shit!” he exclaims, eyes falling back onto you as your eyes shut, hands clasping together as you made a wish.

suna was glad your eyes were closed. because then you would’ve seen that stupid smile smothered all over his face in adoration. he was so in love with you, it’s crazy for him to even fathom that the girl who was just another seatmate became the root of his happiness and heavy beating heart.

his eyelids shut while he makes his own wish quickly.

you both open your eyes, watching each other in solace. a peaceful silence as you two admired each other, memorizing each feature as there was almost always something new to find, to compliment, to smile at, to kiss.

“what did you wish for?” you ask gently, breaking the comfortable silence.

suna shakes his head, “afraid i can’t tell you–you might jinx it and it’ll never come true.”

your lips pout, playful and lighthearted. he had the look on his face that seemed as if he already knew what you wished for and it definitely was not fair. “fine, have it your way,” you say before stealing another kiss from him.

you settled into him again, not wanting this moment to end but you knew it was getting late. if you and suna didn’t leave now, you’d both end up passed out on some random hill with the birds tweeting the morning away and the sunrise peeking through the horizon.

but perhaps it didn’t sound that bad staying here for a bit longer. especially if it was with him.

“i wouldn’t mind falling asleep out here.” murmured suna, his voice almost a whisper when he says it into your hair.

you snort. it was as if he was reading your mind after all.

taglist: @yongboxerrr @rosepetalhaven @tvwhoresblog @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @milktyama @anejuuuuoy @rinphobics @watariisbestboy @larkspyrr @miyadarling @mydandydays

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintaro #suna imagines #suna scenarios #suna fluff #suna fanfic #haikyuu suna

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sergeantsporks · 3 years ago

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"okay but imagine you fold origami out of palistrom wood and it comes to life" Wake up babe, Hunter's new pet just dropped.

My man Greg would probably squish the poor baby

Hunter would fold it into a paper airplane and be like “fly across the room and hit Kikimora in the head”

Hunter, who named his pets “Dave” and “Greg”: I’m gonna name you Papyrus, like Undertale, bc you’re made of paper :)

#hunter’s pet emporium #toh #the owl house #toh hunter #asks

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cricketchaology · 3 years ago

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the bile of the beast

this fic includes discussion of the symptoms of PTSD, especially as it relates to eliot's past with violence (including allusions to sexual violence). if these topics are triggering for you, please proceed with caution.

READ ON AO3

it's san lorenzo (again, but different than it used to be) , and it's sweeter this time. it's fake blood on sophie's dress and damien's smirk melting off his face, a president's hands on nate's lapel. it's righting a wrong, but it's also a burning warehouse a country or so away, cops called and infiltrating, and they won't find who did it because eliot is a professional, always has been. they'll find a room full of messy corpses, turning in the evening sun, each as nameless as the last. moreau likes his men to be nothing (outside of him).

it's something eliot knows intimately: the way moreau can sink his teeth in so slowly you don't release you are nothing but a chew toy. and it's an odd thought when you are the dog, that your hide is flea-ridden and blank. that you are the soft toy he humps in the yard, not the doberman across the street that bears its teeth behind the screen door of close-cropped control. that, sometimes, you aren't even the weapon. sometimes you are the display: the show dog, heeling at the hand that no longer bears a treat. that your ribs are the home of boot-toes, breaking you down to the red dust you thought you escaped when you took up the mantle of a flag all those years ago.

so he holds the bottleneck. he clinks the right glasses, smiles appropriately in a way he prays reaches his eyes because sophie will notice if it doesn't and he can't. he's not feeling the happiness he knows is supposed to rise in his stomach at revenge because this isn't, the shapes are all pulled too long, too neat. it's moreau, it's messy by nature, it’s bloodied hands and broken chairs and little bits being removed from base-spine with even tweezers, folding on the floor like christ in the tomb, listening the tut-tut-tut of a man who doesn't love, but he loves you , or you think he does. eliot's grip tightens at the notion.

cause he knows moreau. he knows moreau like the back of his hand. knows how many times each knuckle's been busted and finger broken, constellation tracing each freckle. he knows moreau like a typewriter knows the author's touch, pounding away till the letters are worn. he knows moreau, which he means he knows it's not over, which means he can't stop running because he never, ever could, and it's why he's here now, with a team that knows him too much for him to stay. who will act like tomorrow is a new day, a free one. like with the italian off their backs, nothing is hanging over their heads.

tomorrow is day one of post-post moreau. it's not the first time he's escaped, and it won't be the last. it is a fact he knows the team won't understand- not when they got off easy, this time. last time it was by the skin of eliot's teeth, shoulder bullet-lodged and airplanes unnamed as he crossed ocean after ocean just to put enough distance between him and the hammer so that he could avoid being the next nail. he wasn't free then. wasn't free a day after moreau, wasn't even free before, because when moreau wants something, he gets it. and he wanted eliot spencer less then than he wants him now. the thought makes his skin crawl, remembering the heat of the brand as it grew closer to his inner thigh, kissing the hairs near his groin before drawing away. because moreau doesn't even need to lay claim to own you, just has to say he did. just has to release that wolf-grin and hold your collar like its always been his.

eliot's spent years clawing at that loop, the necklace that bites too tight around his skin even when no one else knows. he cooks, and he smiles, but it's always there, always weighing on the nape like a hand, skin pinching. he's spent years scratching and howling, enough that the red ring is more evident than the too-tight collar itself. enough that he knows it doesn't come off. to know even a moreau locked in a hole in san lorenzo is still the one he remembers, even if the shape is different.

so when nate offers up a glass of whiskey, raised high by an unshaking hand, it takes everything in eliot to smile, lift his beer bottle, and cheer.

///

he does not remember much of the first day post-post moreau, which is something that scares him. he's not sure how it passed him by; he remembers waking up in the hotel, turning in sunbeams as they scrape past the window screen. he remembers the panic of nate not answering the door when he knocked, and he remembers slamming his body into it until he saw nate alive and well, but he doesn't remember the conversation that followed. he doesn't remember what comes between the elevator and the airport, or what movie hardison played on the flight, or how many seats were unfilled. they're the kind of lapses that could get him- get all of them, he amends, wondering how he could forget- killed. because what eliot lacks in computer skills or acting ability he makes up for in counting hats, mapping exits. he pays his stay in blood.

except he doesn't now, or he's not supposed to. the thought haunts him the rest of the flight. he's barely conscious when they arrive back in boston, his head swimming between the then and the now, post and post-post. he doesn't even realize they've landed till the seatbelt light flickers off, and his hands go to help sophie carry all the luggage she packed in place of the carryon he didn't need.

because eliot never travels with a suitcase. when he arrives, the clothes will be laid out on the bed that’s been paid off for the next few nights. the most that ever belongs to him are the shoes, but even that is a danger- particulates are easily traced, so the red dirt is disposed of every other week, burying the people he isn't supposed to say he's been. disoriented as he is, he winds up picking up a stranger's briefcase before he realizes it's the weight of paperwork-filled folders and not a sniper rifle nestled intimately inside.

he drops it like the handle burns. the movement is abrupt enough that his elbow nudges nate's side. his furrowed brows say we need to talk.

eliot wants to meet his eyes but can't. instead, he grounds himself, taking enough of the team's bags that the straps start to wear into his skin, pulling him from the nothing that's begun to spread from post to post-post. he's silent on the drive home, oddly unperturbed by the fact that parker insists on driving (something about how airplanes don't feel fast, and she wants to feel fast, and everyone being too tired to argue) . he doesn't so much as grumble as he makes a roundabout the vehicle, jabbing each tire with the tip of his toe. he stares at the license plate for a moment too long, trying to remember why he's in boston before nate shouts something along the lines of "come on, let's get home."

it's raining; something eliot doesn't register till they've arrived at the office and are piling out of the car. his arms are loaded with bags by the time he hears someone say, "we'll worry about the luggage later," which they surely said before he loaded up. by the time he makes it inside, his hair is curling at the ends in a way it never did in the before- cropped too short then for even damien to find much comfort in running fingers through, though he'd do it anyway. petting more than soothing, and the difference was something eliot learned to sense before the hand was even laid down, the way a knee aches before a storm.

the thought must show on his face, or maybe his disheveled appearance is enough to earn the concern coloring his team as they stare at him, dripping in the doorway with their luggage draped across his body all pack-mule-like. he's shivering, though he isn't exactly sure why, by the time they pull the bags from him, ushering him upstairs as the bar staff eyes them no more curiously but perhaps more timidly than usual. the soles of his shoes squeak against the vinyl, and he flinches, thinking about all the ways a wrong sound could get him killed. moreau is tut-tut-tutting in his ear again, like before, in the during .

the whole team is talking, mumbling mercies and platitudes, and his heart is racing in his chest, pounding like heels on rooftops and down staircases in foreign countries. the rain beats down on the window like fists, like prisoners you knew before they were prisoners and allies you used to trust, and he's not really breathing; the air in the crawlspace is too thin. his hands are shaking, and his CO is saying “steady, steady,” whispering it like a mother to her babe, and the shot rings out with that familiar flashbang of lighting.

"stop," he mutters, and it feels like too much noise, too much noise (surely, they're going to catch him this time). "please, stop. stop."

the air falls quiet, like new york news as the death of osama bin laden is broadcast, like hushed last phone calls on the plane going down, army basecamps right before the armada. it's quiet like death is- like two lovers who don't know each other yet. like hair coiling, blackening, burning in the heat. his breath hitches like he can remember it.

"...eliot?" parker asks, because she's parker, crazy by design, but even now, she isn't touching him, though her hands are outstretched like she wants to. hardison looks at her like she has horns, like she's breaking a vault while the sirens scream, and she is, in every conceivable way. it makes eliot ache in a way he didn't know he could still feel. it makes him want to be the person she thinks him to be.

he meets parker's gaze like he's staring down the business end of a gun. like being the fish in the barrel. he averts her gaze, transfixed on the city skyline behind her, peering through beating rain. he's scanning for men laying belly-down on balconies, sniper's trained and at the ready. he struggles to make out the horizon through obscuring strands of hair he doesn't remember growing out. he swallows, fingers flexing with a familiar hunger for hurt.

before he's aware of it, he's being lead to the couch, his soaking jacket somehow shed without his knowledge (he was too busy counting hats, mapping exits. moreau wants to know how many hats). the sofa is soft beneath him, swallowing him in warmth better than his standard-issue sleeping bag, and he's helpless against the hands on his shoulders pushing him purposefully deeper. the nails are enough for him to know it's sophie, even though he can't fully see her in front of him. the hair is tucked behind his ear with a tenderness he didn't know still existed. that he doesn't think he can deserve.

he isn't sure how long he sits there, his hands shaking in his lap. he isn't sure how long the silence permeates till it's replaced with the sound of knife striking board, and he comes to understand that Chopped reruns have been playing on the screens ahead, and it's sweet because they think he'd like it, not because he does. his boots have been unlaced, pulled from his feet (now bare, like christ folding on the floor in front of the disciples, moreau saying "wash my feet, eliot") and set gently near the end of the sofa. the thermostat has been turned to a temperature he lovingly calls "oklahoma august," which the rest of the team always whines is too hot, and the smell of thai food from his favorite food truck seeps into the air. he hangs on the scent like a cartoon character to fresh pie on the window.

it's too much like post , rather than post-post, the way they smile at him shambling to the island. the ache of the fights from the past weeks are starting to catch up to him; without a fresh neck in his hands, it's easier to remember the skin peeled from his knees. seeing him, nate holds out a steaming plate of his favorite and eliot takes it slowly. he stares down at it, enchanted by the authenticity of it even after it's pulled from a takeout box.

but you don't eat things you didn't see prepared; it's a lesson he learned after being poisoned in some hole in south america, and that he risked with every hors d'oeuvre moreau would hold to his lips, saying taste this, meaning die for me, like the sound of vultures overhead. something must change in his eyes because nate isn't smiling anymore. because nate is reaching out, taking the plate back, and it's clear that he doesn't understand what he's done wrong, no one does, not even sophie, if the way her gaze fluctuating between eliot and nate is to say anything.

"i'm not supposed to eat anything i didn't cook," he instinctively explains (this must be a test), wanting the sad look to leave hardison's eyes. "you either. i'm not supposed to let you eat anything i didn't prepare- that i didn't taste."

a beat of silence follows, heavy like the snow piling on slates, like soot on a seven-year-old brow. nate breaks it hesitantly.

"eliot-"

"let me taste your food," eliot says, all too much like the during and unlike post or post-post; it's too soft and ungrowled, too eliot and not enough spencer .

the look sophie shares with nate is deadly- like hiroshima at ground zero or kitum cave circa 1980. there's a silent battle wagging there, one eliot can't find the energy to care about because, without even a second of hesitation, parker hands him her plate of too-sweet noodles. she smiles at him, strange in that way parker always is, like a rat taking trap-bound cheese.

eliot takes care, inspecting the color, the smell, and though all of it is wrong, it's parker's, and it smells like how parker likes pad woon sen, which a post , but not post-post, eliot would have the energy to despise tenderly. but that's not who he is now, twirling noodles up on the fork, chewing garishly until he can gulp them down with confidence, like swallowing a key and knowing they can't beat it out of you. like downing the rations before the taste of them reaches your brain. he hands the plate back, feeling lighter, and hardison must be able to tell because he offers his dish up next. he watches as eliot inspects it thoroughly like a jeweler counting carats. the process doesn't take long, and, after a few minutes, each takeout box has been combed through for error, and eliot has determined they are safe enough to settle at the bar for the meal.

he doesn't sit down though, isn't supposed to. he goes to check exits, to stand by the door. he thinks about meetings in moreau's office, thinks about clubs and bars and women in bikinis that moreau never wanted to touch. because women were shows- because if moreau wanted something, he got it, and eliot knows this, so he knows moreau didn't want the women. he knows that moreau hungered for something different- not younger, but meaner. harder. he thinks about moreau in the sauna, beckoning eliot over, saying dismiss your post and meaning drop to your knees, folding before him like christ, like washing feet, like intimacy anew. he thinks about hardison, tied to the chair, and about chapman and his gun and moreau towel-drying sweat from his skin. he thinks about the kick, the move he invented, and hardison sucking air from the pneumatic, thinks about sucking air and-

///

"pause the show," sophie says, right before eliot goes from nervously checking the locks for the dozenth time to crumpling to the floor, his fingers digging claw-like into the edge of the doorframe. his breaths are too quick, huffing in and out, in and out, fast as chopper blades overhead screaming against wind. his whole body is vibrating by the time ted's voice is cut off, hand closing over the cloche in slow motion.

parker is the first to him, light on her feet and perching in front. she observes him like a cat might a dead bird; curiosity and hunger, unfamiliar yet innate. but then that hunger fades, is sated, and she's tucking her knees beneath her body and folding herself by eliot, kneeling. she surrounds him, skin heavy like a blanket, and eliot melts into her like one fades into the air after jumping from a plane- the way the heat melds to your back as an explosion follows you out the door.

with only slightly more hesitance, hardison joins them on the floor, his long arms enveloping them. eliot's hair tickles his nose, hardison's soft breaths blowing them away, then pulling them back like the ebb and flow of waves lapping a shoreline. he closes his eyes for a long moment, batting away the thought of water filling his lungs, and reopens them to find nate staring down awestruckenly.

sophie smiles softly in a way that means she knows something no one else does, cracking the mark open like a pistachio shell. hardison squints, searching for an answer, but she gives none. instead, she pulls nate away by his wrist, casting a look across the room before quietly trailing up the staircase, leaving eliot, parker, and hardison tucked tightly into the corner.

///

the seconds evade him while he sits there, sobbing on the floor. it feels like a weakness, something he should be hiding- he hasn't cried like this since the night his momma died (not in his pristine funeral suit. his father has pulled his tie-tight and said, "now don't you embarrass me," and he didn't then- made sure he never did again.) he hadn't cried like that the entire time during , or post , but now it was post-post and here he was, broken to bits on the wooden floor of a dingy bars' loft in boston.

not for the first time, he finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up here. how he escaped the during , how he made it to post-post. because, really, he's seen greater men die on their first tour. he's been in the hellholes they strung soldiers up in, purple heart wearers bleeding nothing but red, red, red- and he's been that man, russian roulette spun and against the odds making it a baker's dozen rounds before the tortures tired of threats and moved onto toenails. even then, he didn't cry like this- if he did cry, well, that was sweat in his eyes. that was him praying to a lord he stopped believing in at 18, saying, "if you get me out of this one alive, i'll get better" and it never, ever being true.

he isn't aware that parker and hardison have been whispering a mantra of "it's okay, it's okay, eliot, you are here, you are ours" until they pause for breath until parker's voice is addressing hardison, asking, "hey- hey, if it's too much, it's okay. you can take a break."

it's then that he realizes he isn't the only one praying then; they all are, the shoulders of his shirt on either side soaked through, not by the unrelenting rain but by the two closest things he has to family. that hardison's voice has gone from soft and strong to shaky: a leaf resisting those oklahoma winds rising from 40 to 50, from cold fronts and warm one crashing and crushing everything in their path as they war with one another. that parker's body has cooled as she gifted her warmth to eliot's still rain-frozen form.

it's then that he realizes he's lucky. that san lorenzo is sweeter because parker dashed it with maple syrup when he wasn't looking- that hardison replaced the whiskey sours with sodas. that post-post doesn't fit any of the characters sophie has taught him to play, and that he doesn't need to count the hats because nate already has; he knows each shape and each color, the brand names printed on the bill.

the next breath is a little deeper as hardison whispers, "i'm good, i'm good," across him to parker, and eliot feels the rattle of her head against his neck more than he sees it. the way they draw in a little closer, the way parker subconsciously syncs their breathing like sophie's taught her to do with marks, but it's different because eliot isn't a mark- because it isn't post-post, it's something different entirely.

it's the scent of his favorite thai food crusted in the corners of an unwiped mouth. it's his closet being reorganized by color, his go-bag packed with money he didn't put there. it's in-jokes and damnits and distinctive sounds. it's not explaining because they won't make him.

when his breathing is finally stable, he feels them pull back- not entirely, but enough that there's an instant ache in eliot's gut for them to come back to him. hardison's brows are knit, all the anger of the week prior washed away and replaced with nothing but care. parker is smiling gently with that even present lilt to her eye- like she's stolen his watch and is waiting for him to notice.

with slowly re-steadying hands, eliot brushes the last remnants of tears from his face, feeling his cheeks flush slightly when his father's voice tries to rise from somewhere within him. as though feeling the demon climbing up, hardison places a hand on the outskirts of eliot's bicep, holding him gently- grounding him.

"you good?" hardison asks simply, but the question makes all the raw things in eliot sore again in the way a second-day sunburn feels; not quite painful, but omnipresent. warm.

"yeah," he finds himself saying, and it's not something a post eliot would mean, but maybe a post-post eliot does. maybe a post-post eliot can. he finds himself smiling at the notion.

"yeah, i am."

#long post #leverage fanfiction #eliot spencer #thats all im gonna tag lmao i hate posting fic on tumblr #anyway hi everyone #im so tired #tw rape #tw ptsd #tw abuse #also i didnt care to mess with some of the formatting that was lost in translation sorryyyyy #no italics for u tumblr

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leafs-lover · 4 years ago

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 32

Series Masterlist

Chapter 32

A/N: I finished this kind of quickly and wanted to get it out so I didn’t re-read it, So I hope it’s okay. Italics indicates flashback.

Summary: You and Fred adjust to a home life with three kids, and attend Sidney and Kathy’s wedding.

Warning: Drinking, swearing, smut, oral sex (m+f) receiving

Word Count: 5800

“Hey” you smile wrapping your arms around Kathy.

“Hey come in” she smiles pulling to the hotel room. You walk in seeing the five other bridesmaids and a bottle of champagne already empty on the table. A couple of the girls have face masks on, laughing about something; others are sitting on the couch with half empty glasses. Tomorrow is Sidney and Kathy’s wedding, being a bridesmaid you are staying with the group for a relaxing night before all the festivities begin first thing in the morning.

“You must be so happy to get away for a night” one of the girls says to you, Kathy passing you a red solo cup with champagne.

Tonight is the first night you are without the kids, and its Fred’s first time watching the three of them for a night alone. You chuckle slightly “yeah I feel bad for Fred” you say taking a sip.

“You don’t have to lie to us” Kathy says smirking over her cup.

You smile and chuckle “okay I kind of feel bad for him but I’m also super happy to be away and have a night off. A night with an entire bed to myself, it is going to be amazing.”

“And no diapers or someone puking on you” one of the girls jokes causing everyone to laugh.

The twins have been home for almost 5 weeks and it has been just as crazy as you imagined. You haven’t left Fred alone with the three of them for more than a couple hours at a time; not because you don’t think he can handle them but because you feel bad given how crazy it has been. That is until three weeks ago.

“Freddie” you call walking out to the living room. Fred is lying shirtless on the couch, Noah resting against his chest and Lucas sleeping in his arm. Fred doesn’t respond and you walk further in “shhh daddy’s sleeping” Oliver calls from the floor playing with a puzzle, causing you to smile placing your groceries on the counter.

You had some errands to run and left Fred alone with the three boys for the first time. You felt bad leaving but Fred said he would be fine, but you remember the time you were alone with them and how terribly it went. Fred reassured you everything would be fine so you headed out.

You had a dentist appointment and a hair cut in preparation for the wedding. After your haircut you checked your phone not seeing any notifications and went to get some groceries; but you didn’t notice you had accidentally put your phone on flight mode; preventing calls and texts from getting through.

Your smile quickly fades as you scan the room taking in what has unfolded during your absence. Dishes and bottles were pilled all over the counter; Fred’s shirt is thrown over the back of a barstool. You see some vomit staining his blue t-shirt and chuckle lightly. Oliver has a million toys strewn across the floor his shirt nowhere in sight.

You walk over to Oliver, dodging the blocks scattered around the floor and kiss his forehead “you good for daddy while I was gone?” you ask softly and he nods not looking up from his puzzle.

Your eyes shift to the couch, soft snores leaving his mouth and he has some dried vomit in his hair. You carefully pull Lucas from his arm and Fred doesn’t move. You walk across the room and put him in his baby swing turning it on a soft setting.

When you pick up Noah Fred stirs and his eyes flutter open “hey” he mumbles through a raspy dry voice.

“What happened to his clothes?” you ask eyeing to Noah who is just in a diaper.

“He had a um…incident” he mumbles rubbing his eyes. “Diaper, poop” he pops his hands open to mimic an explosion. “After cleaning him in the sink I never managed to get him some new clothes.”

You sit beside him on the couch bouncing Noah in your arms trying not to laugh, but secretly thankful you missed it. “Lucas projectile vomited all over me” he groans rolling on his side while you brush his hair out of his eyes. “Oliver had something, I don’t even know. He picked up on the stress or wanted attention, I don’t know. He had a meltdown; threw his toys around spilt lunch on himself and the floor. Twins were screaming bloody murder, it was a fucking disaster.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” you ask watching his eyes close again feeling extremely guilty being gone for so long.

“I did, it went right to voicemail, texts undelivered. I figured you just wanted to enjoy your time away” he laughs.

“Sorry babe” you respond lightly placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“It’s okay, I just don’t remember newborns being this tiring” he mumbles rising up on his elbow. His eyes go wide while he takes in the disaster in front of him..

“Last time we were younger. There was also only one baby then” you respond laying him back on the couch.

“Calling me old babe?” he laughs eyes closing. You kiss his forehead and place a blanket over him “no never” you joke smiling at him. ”Go have a nap I’ll clean up and make dinner.”

“Babe don’t leave me again” he mumbles which causes tears to prick the corner of your eyes; guilt washing over you. You shoot him a soft smile and stand up to get some clothes for Noah.

Since that day three weeks ago neither of you have left the other alone for an extended period of time. That is until now; he reassured you he would be fine, having a few more weeks to adjust to having three kids. You promised to make sure your phone wasn’t on airplane mode and he promised to message you if something happened. But you honestly doubt he would call you tonight, the night before the wedding unless the house was on fire.

A few hours later you are in your pyjamas in your room alone, you want to just curl up under the duvet and wait until the morning light filters in through the window but you know you shouldn’t. You pull your phone out Facetiming Freddie.

“Hey babe” he mumbles. The screen is dark for a second while you wait for him to turn on a lamp. He presses his eyes closed, gently rubbing the sleep from them before squinting at the bright lights.

“We’re you sleeping?” you ask. You look to the clock and it reads 11:06 and you feel a tinge of guilt.

“Yeah well looking after three babies for almost 8 hours gets can be exhausting” he sighs resting his phone against the pillow. “Fell asleep at like 9:30.”

“Sorry go back to bed” you say softly “I’ll see you tomorrow anyways.”

“No I want to hear about your night of freedom” he laughs. “You girls do anything crazy?”

“Room service, mani/pedi’s, face masks, champagne” you say smiling.

“Sounds really nice” he yawns eyes struggling to stay open.

“It is, now I have this king sized bed all to myself” you respond.

“It sucks I miss you in this bed” he whines.

“I’d miss me too” you giggle into the phone.

The corners of Fred’s mouth curl up, “drunk babe?” he laughs.

“We didn’t drink a lot with the wedding tomorrow and everything” you explain, a hiccup coming out of your mouth. You laugh a little bit “maybe I am a bit” you reply and Fred laughs back into the phone.

“I like slightly drunk (Y/N)” he says seductively. “Drunk (Y/N) is fun.”

You grin into the screen and talk a little bit longer, he tells you about his night with the boys. You tell him more about the night with the girls, your buzz from the champagne making you extra talkative. You notice Fred is quiet and see his eyes are shut, having fallen asleep holding the phone. You chuckle and hang up, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

“Oh we’re having kids right away, by this time next year I want there to be a baby” Kathy says from her chair getting her hair done. Sarah the maid of honour walks around handing out some mimosas to everyone before sitting down for her hair.

“I’m legit getting my IUD out 5 hours before we leave for our honeymoon, we aren’t messing around” she says taking a sip.

“Oh I need to get mine” you say quietly, with how busy the past few weeks have been you forgot to make an appointment.

Kathy all but chokes on her mimosa “what do you mean you need to get yours?”

You turn your head meeting her gaze not realizing she heard you. You feel all eyes on you while the hair stylists continue quietly working on your hair. “I’ve just been so busy the past month or so, I completely forgot to make an appointment. Three babies are a lot, were constantly busy.”

“And you think four will be easier?” she scolds from beside you. “Are you trying to get pregnant again!?”

“God no, we are done, we decided pretty soon after finding out it was twins we were done” you saw laughing.

“Then why aren’t you on birth control? You guys are obviously very fertile” Sarah jokes taking a sip from her glass.

“Well the plan was for me to get an IUD after giving birth, but after the emergency C that didn’t happen. But we’ve been so busy since the twins came home; I mean we barely have time for sex.” That part isn’t a lie; you would only need one hand to count how many times you have had sex. Lucas and Noah are on opposite schedules during the night, so when you get one to sleep, you get about 2 hours or so before the other wakes up. Between the limited sleep and chasing a rambunctious toddler who has been boycotting nap time it has led to you and Fred spending most nights actually sleeping instead of tangled in the sheets.

You get some suspicious glances from the girls “a couple nights ago we were getting ready for bed and Fred came up behind me in the bathroom kissing my neck. I finished my routine and walked into the bedroom less than ten minutes later and he was snoring on top of the sheets. It’s pretty common in our house” you laugh.

“Kay, but Oliver took one time” Kathy says.

“Yeah but I’m breast feeding, it’s 99% effective until they are 6 months. I will get an IUD but until then my doctor says we’re protected.” you reply smiling. The women drop it and continue with casual conversation while you finish getting ready.

“You look stunning” Fred says finding you after the ceremony at the fountain outside the venue. The entire wedding party and family members are scattered around in various conversations while the pictures are taken. His hands rest on your waist he leans down to kiss your cheek.

Kathy picked out a navy spaghetti strap dress with a deep v-shaped neckline, the fabric gathers just above your waist. There is a slit coming up your leg, stopping high on your thigh. You have a natural look for makeup complete with nude lips and gold eyes. You have a braid in your hair creating a crown around the back; it then is pulled into an updo at the back of your head with a few loose curls framing your face. Your hair being held back by a million bobby pins shows off the cut of your dress.

“Thanks babe” you respond smiling. You run your hands over his suit jacket “you look amazing too” you rise slightly on your heels to kiss him on the lips. He is wearing a new crisp burgundy suit with a black skinny tie.

“Ok, I look good, but have you seen yourself? I’ll have to thank Kathy later” he jokes placing a hand on your lower back. “This dress babe, absolutely stunning” he leans down to place another kiss on your lips when you get interrupted.

“(Y/N) we need you for a picture” Sarah calls causing Fred to groan and pull away from you.

“Guess I’ll just have to stare at you for the next few hours” he brings his lips to the side of your face “and think of what I’ll do once you’re out of that dress.” He pulls away smirking at you and walking away from you, you feel some wetness pool between your legs. You take a couple deep breaths before joining the group for pictures.

The rest of the wedding goes off without a hitch, throughout the dinner you feel Fred staring at you from his table across the venue. Every time you catch him staring he smiles at you and turns his attention away briefly, only to bring it back a few minutes later. You shake your head at him slightly; your eyes go wide when he licks his lips with his eyes locked on you.

“You know the entire ceremony all I was thinking about was what you’re going to look like in a wedding dress” he whispers hand sliding onto your lower back dancing slowly to the music.

You smile looking past him but turn to meet his gaze “I mean it” he says kissing your forehead “I can’t wait until it’s our wedding.”

“Want to push it to next year?” you ask while he spins you back into his hard chest. You had been discussing taking two years for the wedding just so you aren’t rushed and don’t have to pull time away from your family to get everything done.

“Think we can get everything done in time? Won’t be too stressful for us” he’s holding you close; you can smell his cologne causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Yeah I was looking at places, and this one castle has a planner that will help coordinate most of the stuff” you respond. “They do the food, alcohol, décor and have an in house photographer and videographer.”

He turns to look at you slightly confused “didn’t know there were any castles in North America.”

“Oh I was thinking Denmark” you say smiling up at him.

Fred stops dancing looking down at you “you want to get married in Denmark?”

“Yeah” you smile. “It’s so beautiful there, and it’s where you’re from.”

“And you’re from Canada; there are a lot of beautiful places there. You don’t want to get married there?” he asks.

“Canada doesn’t have castles, besides we can leave the boys at your moms and go on our honeymoon” you say causing a large grin to cross his face while he resume dancing.

“So Denmark, next summer” he repeats with a smile on his face. You nod in agreeance feeling Fred’s lips press against yours; you release his arm sliding a hand up to the back of his neck. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss. You feel Fred lean forward, tilting you back your other hand gripping the back of his neck. Your moans are swallowed by the kiss, his hand sliding slightly lower to your ass where it stays for a few more songs.

You see the other guests making their way to the roof and follow the crowd. You lean your head back onto Fred’s chest, his hand resting on your stomach. You tilt your head to the sky, watching as it lights up in a colourful display. Fred’s thumb gently rubs circles on your stomach, a soft sigh leaving your lips while you watch the fireworks.

“I love you” Fred whispers in your ear part way through the show “I’m so lucky to have you.”

You turn around in his grip, wrapping your arms around him under his jacket resting your head on his chest. A slight shiver courses through your body from the cool night air, arms tightening against his body. Fred pulls away and pulls his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders. You tilt your head, your gaze shifting from the fireworks to Fred’s eyes.

The colours in the sky reflecting off his eyes while he smiles down at you. The heels you are wearing help to close the gap, but you still have to lift up slightly to press your lips to his. One of Fred’s hand rests on your back inside his jacket, the other gripping the back of your neck. It runs slightly into your hair getting caught in the curls and bobby pins currently holding it in place.

You open your mouth for him, his tongue sliding in. Your hips involuntarily arch forward into his touch, hands sliding up his stubbled chin. His hand on your back slides down giving your ass a firm squeeze causing you to pull away slightly with your draw dropping open,.

“Relax my jacket is long enough nobody can see” he mumbles bringing his lips closer to yours again. You can see the half smile tugging at the sides of his mouth when his lips come crashing back against yours.

“How long do we have to stay” you mumble into the kiss.

You hear Fred groan and feel his half erection pressing into your stomach. He pulls his left hand away to look at the watch wrapped around it “its only 11” he responds causing a loud groan to slip from your lips. Luckily the firework display muffles you from nearby guests.

“We have a very comfortable bed waiting for us” you continue resting your hand on his chest feeling some moisture that has collected from the dancing throughout the night.

“A bed where we can sleep uninterrupted” he jokes “no kids.”

You laugh turning your gaze back to the firework show as they prepare for the finale. “Sleeping in, breakfast in bed” he groans under his breath, you clench your legs

A few hours later after many more drinks you are finally walking into the hotel elevator. As soon as the door closes Fred is on you, hoisting you up with ease. He presses your back to the wall, your legs naturally wrapping around him. His hand slides to the bottom of your thigh, while his other to your thigh where your leg slit has left you exposed. He runs his hand up your skin stopping when he hits your hip bone. His thumb plays gently with the cloth covering your core his mouth peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone only stopping when the door dings open.

He sets you down, adjusting his jacket while you fix the fabric that has shifted from your breasts. He leads you down the hall holding the door open for you. You step out of your shoes and Fred immediately loosens his tie pulling it over his head, throwing it along with his jacket on the floor. Fred turns and bends down throwing you over his shoulder while making his way to the bed.

He throws you onto the bed a light squeal escapes from you. You hear his shoes be kicked to the side, next is a belt buckle clanging on the hardwood floor and last his vest is discarded on the ground. You rest on your forearms watching as he undoes a couple buttons from his neck. You swallow the lump in your throat feeling wetness pool between your legs.

You think about how you could stare at Fred all night while he rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up, showing off his muscular forearm. Before you have a chance to stare much longer Fred crawls over you locking you in a hungry and passionate kiss. He bends your knee his hand running up and down the exposed skin from your slit.

He crawls down you climbing inside the bottom of your dress hooking your legs over his shoulders in the process. He slowly arches your back off the bed pulling your underwear down your legs. You feel him alternate between kissing and sucking the side of your thigh, while a deep exhale leaves your lips.

He nips your skin slowly approaching the area you need him most, his beard rubbing against your folds. He turns his head, warm breath blows against you coming closer to you. His nose presses into your clit first, followed by his mouth gently attaching to you. He flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up you, your head falling back into the pillow.

He groans against you “you’re so wet baby” he mumbles placing long licks, cleaning up what has been pooling all night.

“You’ve seen yourself right” you moan while he dip his tongue inside your walls. You feel the corners of his lips curl up at your comment licking deep inside you. Your heels dig into his back; you reach down to grab his hair but are met with the chiffon fabric of your dress. You bring them down to your side and grip the bedding his nose digging in deeper into your clit.

You buck your hips up towards his face, his hands slide over your hips pulling you down closer to his face. You start rocking your hips against his face and tongue moaning loudly. He flicks his tongue sucking against your clit.

“Oh fuckkkkk” you moan loudly. Too loudly; feeling his tongue hitting inside your sweet spot. He throws his arm over your hips pinning you to the mattress; he rolls his head around in circles, grunting and moaning into your pussy. You feel your orgasm building when he curls his tongue inside you. He brings up two fingers sliding them in and opening you up further moaning at the taste of you.

Your legs tighten around his head holding him closer to you while you clench around his tongue. He works you through your orgasm continuing the pace until you stop. You relax against him when you are finished and he pulls his tongue out all the way cleaning you up. You expect him to stop but he continues to lick up and down your pussy, flicking at your clit when he gets to it. His fingers curl in hitting your sweet spot he hits it a few times tongue flicking against your clit. He brings you to another quick orgasm, this one so strong your legs shaking around him. Your knuckles are white and you tremble; his tongue still working you through it.

He pulls his head away slowly, his beard grazing along your thighs. You shiver at the contact and the feeling of your sensitive cut being released.

“You need more clothes like this” he says head popping out from your dress “the leg slit is very useful.”

You tilt your head laughing while your grip eases on the bedding. “I’ll be sure to add some in to my wardrobe, flowy dresses are very convenient with newborns.”

Fred crawls up towards you, juices glistening off his beard a smile plastered on your face. “Good” he mumbles bringing his lips to yours. You moan tasting yourself on him and feeling his painfully hard member pressing into your stomach.

He pushes your straps down your shoulders and he gently lifts your back feeling around for a zipper. “It’s on the side” you whisper turning slightly to allow him better access. You hear the zipper while he slowly drags it down you helping you out of it. He throws it over to the side, falling off the chair onto the floor.

His mouth immediately attached to your breast sucking on the nipple. You bring your hands down to his waist fumbling with the button as his thumb reattaches to your clit. A loud gasp leaves your lips having not recovered from your previous two orgasms. He chuckles mumbling something against your exposed flesh while you try to focus through the pleasure to push his pants down his thighs.

His mouth switches to the other breast; you bring your hands up to address his shirt. You lift a leg trying to push his pants down with your foot. Fred’s thumb presses harder into your clit causing a loud moan to leave your lips.

“Freddie” you whine unable to concentrate on stripping him. His head pops up “yeah babe?” he asks knowing exactly what you want.

“You need to stop so I can take your clothes off.”

He just smiles at you and pulls away resting on his knees. He undoes the final two buttons and pushes his dress shirt off his body; you see beads of sweat rolling down his chest. He pushes his pants and boxers of his legs his cock springing free. A light moan escapes your lips watching it slap against his stomach. It’s painfully hard, head glistening with precum your mouth waters thinking about wrapping your lips around it

“You can’t” he whispers following your gaze. A pout comes across your lips “just a little” you whine back.

He groans and falls onto his back shaking his head at you “just a taste” he responds bending an arm behind his head. “Thanks” you hum adjusting yourself between his legs.

You wrap your lips around the tip, and slowly take more and more into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat. You can hear Fred moaning, you look up at him through your lashes half expecting him to cum then and there from the sounds he is making. You swirl your tongue around him, running it up the vein on the underside, he attempts to grab your hair but is met by a mess of hairspray and pins.

You rise up leaving just the tip remaining in your mouth. You smirk up at him and bring your mouth down, your nose hitting his pelvis. His hips lift off the bed while you do this a few more times. Finally you feel him grip your hair and pull you off him, saliva dripping down your chin.

“I said a taste” he growls pushing you onto your back. You feel him poke at your entrance and slowly push into you. You take a sharp inhale feeling him stretch your walls from the limited sex you have had with him recently.

He continues to gently push in you, staring at you and watching your expression the entire time while you accommodate him. He goes slowly but with determination, gently thrusting back and forth as he works his way deeper inside you. Your hands find the back of his neck, gripping his chain pulling his forehead down to yours.

The pain slowly turns into pleasure while he continues his gentle but persistent pace. His forehead is glued to yours, his brown eyes never leaving yours. Each thrust going slightly deeper than the last, Fred biting his lower lip the entire time.

You can hear how wet you are every time he thrusts into you, finally he bottoms out. His pelvis connects with yours, the head of his cock pressing up against your cervix, just gently pushing it. He softly grunts feeling your warm walls holding him in; muttering under his breath. "So sexy …Fuck..Milking my cock".

Your legs wrap around his waist, a hand sliding down his neck to his bicep. Fred picks up the pace, your nails digging crescent shaped marks in his muscles. He moves your legs so they are against his shoulders, getting even deeper inside you. You turn into a writhing mess under him, your third orgasm swiftly building. Fred snaps his hips, fucking into you faster and faster.

Your hips arch off the bed, the room being filled with your loud moans. Fred smirks knowing exactly where you are thrusting faster as you cum for him. You clench around him holding him tightly inside you, walls fluttering around his cock.

And then, Fred groans, and you are met with his familiar warmth filling you up. He gives you a few more slow thrusts before releasing your legs and he practically melts on top of you. You lightly rake your hand over his sweaty back while he moans softly, your heart rates slowly returning to normal.

His soft moans turn into soft snores. He is fully on top of you, his dick still resting inside of your walls. If it wasn’t for the exhaustion you would have woken him up, but you know how much he needs the sleep so you allow your eyes to close using the man above you as a blanket.

You are the first to wake up in the morning, Fred now lying beside you on his back. At some point you both made your way under the sheets which are hanging low on his hips. You cautiously crawl out of bed, careful to not wake the sleeping man beside you.

You return from the bathroom a few minutes later having pulled out a bunch of the pins in your hair and notice the sheet had slipped down past his waist. His beautiful cock right there on display.

You consider waking him up in a way that has been appreciated in the past but decide to let him sleep a little longer. You walk around the bed lifting the sheet and crawling back in. Fred feels the bed shift and his eyes flutter open, you lying on your arm looking at him.

“Morning” he mumbles through a hoarse voice.

“Hey” you whisper brushing the hair from his forehead.

“What time is it?” he asks rolling onto his side to look at you. He smiles, his brown eyes opening completely to look at you. You reach for your phone but it’s off causing you to groan and rise up to look at the clock on the table beside him. “Fuck your beautiful” he says bringing his thumb to rub up and down your arm.

You go to smile until you see the time “fuck Fred it’s after 11.” You quickly throw the sheet off to get out of the bed but he easily grips you pulling you back down to the bed.

“Babe” you whine “checkout is 10.”

“Well that’s long gone” he laughs. You try to push him away but he firmly holds you to his chest. He chuckles at your meek attempt to free yourself “it’s not a big deal, we’ll just have to pay for another night.” Fred rolls on top of you, his entire weight pinning you below him.

“But Christie” you start. You only have her booked until 12, and you still have to pack and do the 30 min drive across the city.

“I scheduled her til 2” he mumbles lips attaching to your neck. Before you can process what he said or respond there is a knock on the door forcing him to pull away. He stands up and throws his dress shirt your way for you to cover up with while he quickly pulls his dress pants up his large thighs.

He waits for you to do some of the buttons and adjust the blankets around your waist then opens the door. You hear some muffled talking and some creaking and are met by a man wheeling in a table with breakfast. His eyes go wide seeing you in bed, Fred’s white dress shirt doing little to hide your perked nipples. His eyes linger a little causing your cheeks to heat up; when Fred clears his throat causing the man to excuse himself and leave the room.

“You planned this” you exclaim hearing the door shut.

“That guy couldn’t have been any more obvious” he ignores you walking over to pour you some coffee.

“Fred” you say grinning at him waiting for a response.

“Yes I obviously planned this. He pours some syrup over the french toast and brings a piece to your mouth. You open slightly the fork sliding between your lips. You moan, your mouth being filled with amazing flavours.

“When I booked the hotel I made it for three nights. I actually considered trying to get you stay, but I knew there was no way you would leave the boys for three nights.” You smile at him over your mug loving that he knows you that well. As much as you have enjoyed the 36 or so hours away you can’t wait to get back to your sons.

“That and I felt bad for Christie if we had of left her alone for two nights” he laughs biting a piece of bacon.

“I figured we both could use a day to sleep in” he says bringing more french toast to you. “So I ordered us a late breakfast.”

“And my phone” you respond knowing you had an alarm set, picking up a fork and dig in to the hash browns.

“You put it in my pocket and wandered off to the bar. I just turned it off” he shrugs while you laugh. He places a quick kiss on your cheek “have to admit it was a good plan.”

He quickly returns his attention to the breakfast shovelling in a few more bites. You laugh resting your head on his shoulder “yeah you’re pretty awesome” you respond setting your mug back on the table. You feel a pin digging into the side of your skull and pull away, walking to the mirror you pull out the few you had forgotten earlier.

You hear the clatter of cutlery on the table, and Fred wheels it a few feet out of the way. His arm grips around your waist pulling a squeal from your mouth “you look incredible in my shirt” he groans pulling you to the bed. His thumb grips your hip while he bends you over the foot of the bed, his pants quickly landing in a pile at his feet.

You press your hips back feeling his erection press into your ass. He pushes his shirt up exposing you to him, he brings a hand firmly to your ass. You groan feeling pain radiate in your cheek and wetness build in your core. His hard cock grazes your folds soaking up some of your juices before he slams in to you.

Unlike last night you aren’t given time to adjust. Your ass is immediately met by his stomach, him pressed fully inside of you while he begins a fast pace. Your fists clenched on the sheet, your pussy clenches around his cock. You moan loudly, screaming into the duvet and pushing yourself back onto him.

Wedding look:

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #nhl smut #nhl fic #because two people got drunk #my writing

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

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@ad1thi submitted: okay so this next one includes a link - hence submission instead of an ask.

insp by this link(and honestly this whole blog basically): buckytony NSFW AU where Tony is an escort for hire and Bucky's an extremely rich man who's looking for some company. loosely a Pretty Woman AU but instead of picking Tony up off the street, he hires Tony off his exclusive website (whether or not you want to factor in the public appearances aspect of the film is up to you but i was thinking more of a strictly sexual relationship that develops over time) (sort of like a sugar daddy AU)

so the link doesn’t work anymore (i think the blog might have been shadow banned) but i still think this will work for you :) check below the cut for the rest of the story (cause it got super long) and for the bingo details for @starkbucksbingo

also on ao3 here

There’s only one bed in the room when Tony gets inside. He pauses, looking warily at the bed like it’s going to attack him. It’s nice, huge, possibly bigger than the entire bedroom in Tony’s last apartment. He bets it has expensive sheets, the kind that are always slippery and you’re afraid to get messy on them. Bucky always pays for rooms with expensive sheets. Yeah, it’s not that there’s really a problem with the bed per se; it’s just that—

Well, one bed means sex.

One bed means sex and two means Bucky needs an escort to whatever event he’s attending and when Bucky had offered to fly him all the way out to fucking Paris for the weekend, he’d just kind of assumed that this was supposed to be an event like a conference or something.

He glances down at his suitcase. He prepares for everything of course, so when he’d logged in to the agency’s website a few days ago to see that his weekend had been blocked, he had made sure to grab not just a couple suits but also some of his best lingerie and Bucky’s favorite toys. Security must have had a field day when they scanned his luggage at the airport. He chuckles, imagining the priceless looks on their faces, and gets to work.

The bathroom is his first stop. Tony is already shaved and waxed, just the way his clients prefer, on the offset chance that Bucky would already be in the room by the time he arrived even though he’d already been told that Bucky wouldn’t be there until dinner, but he smells like airplane and stale peanuts and possibly a little bit like the old man sitting next to him in first class who had drunk his weight in liquor by the time the plane landed.

The bathtub is large enough for at least five people to comfortably sit and the tap has a temperature setting that he sets to just barely on the too much side of hot. He pours in a little lavender oil and wanders back out into the bedroom while he waits for the bath to fill.

Suits go hanging up in the closet. Lingerie goes in one drawer and toys go in the one below it, organized by type and then by color. He doesn’t have anything casual other than loungewear because Bucky’s never once taken him anywhere casual and usually he takes him to places that will provide a suit if you don’t show up wearing one.

He goes back into the bathroom, cleans himself up, spends a little bit extra time in the bath relaxing—even if Bucky pays him well enough to afford a new, nicer apartment and first class plane tickets, he still doesn’t make enough to afford a bathtub like this—and climbs out before he gets pruney.

Tony has a couple clients that prefer to see him completely dolled up—makeup, matching lingerie sets, all of it. Bucky, on the other hand, prefers something a little simpler so after he’s dry, Tony pulls on ice blue lace panties, a pair of sheer stockings—no garter, as per Bucky’s instructions so he’ll need to be sure to smooth them out before Bucky arrives—and a small black leather collar. He’ll never admit it but the collar is his favorite part. Bucky, in a fit of possessiveness, had bought it for him after finding out that Tony’s other collars had all been used before by his other clients.

Tony still remembers the first time Bucky had put it on him, the way he’d slid a finger under the collar to check how tight it was, how his eyes had gone dark and wanting before he purred, “Now you look like you’re mine,” and used his grip on the collar to tug Tony into a demanding kiss.

He shivers, thinking about it, and runs a thoughtful finger around the edge of the collar. There have been��times throughout the months they’ve been doing this where he’s wondered if Bucky would want to make this a more permanent arrangement, not quite a kept boy but something rather more intimate. Of course, he’d still need to make a living somehow since Howard has made sure he’s not allowed to use the Stark name but…he wouldn’t exactly object to being Bucky’s more often than once a month.

His watch—another gift from Bucky—beeps at him from where he’s laid it on the dresser and he checks it. Still another few hours to go before Bucky will be back but he should probably get a move on.

He places an order for room service for later that night, calls up for an expensive bottle of champagne that he knows Bucky likes though he can’t stand the taste himself. While he waits, he puts on a pale pink robe and stretches out across the giant bed to doze off the little bit of jet lag he has, which has the added benefit of mussing the sheets just enough to catch Bucky’s attention.

There’s a knock on the door, waking him from his nap, and he greets the astonished delivery boy, who can’t take his eyes off of him, with a cheeky wink and a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of his ass peeking out from the hem of the robe as he turns away.

The champagne goes in an ice bucket to chill and Tony checks the time again before deciding to change into his loungewear. He knows that Bucky likes the silk robe but he likes watching Tony strip for him more and besides, they’ve got all weekend for the robe. There’s only one bed in the room; he’ll be lucky if Bucky lets him up from it at all, let alone into actual clothes.

There’s still an hour or so before Bucky comes and he thinks about going out on the balcony but it looks like there might be a storm coming in. He scowls and drags a chair over to the balcony doors, deciding that he can at least look out over the city, even if he can’t be outside. He reads for a bit until the storm arrives and it gets too dark to read by the natural light and then he gets up to turn on the lamps, which is of course when Bucky walks through the door.

Tony pauses by the bedside lamp, taking in Bucky’s wet hair and the way he’s shaking raindrops off his coat. “You could take a shower first,” he suggests.

“Hmm,” Bucky hums, dragging his gaze slowly over Tony’s body. It’s not even like he’s in anything sexy, just sweatpants and an oversized sweater and his stockinged feet but Bucky’s eyes go dark anyway. It’s gratifying that Bucky gets that choked expression on his face even when Tony is fully dressed and maybe that’s why he crosses the room instead of waiting for Bucky to come to him. Maybe that’s why he slides his hands up Bucky’s wet shirt to hook around his neck and bring him down for a kiss.

Bucky’s hands flutter at his side before he brings them to settle on Tony’s waist. “Don’t want to get you wet,” he mumbles into the kiss.

Tony licks kittenishly at the seam of his lips, teasing them open so he can slide his tongue inside. He curls his tongue around Bucky’s once before pulling back just enough to say, “Does it look like I care about that?”

“No,” Bucky admits and Tony smiles but then Bucky sets him a little bit apart from him. “But I don’t want to do it anyway. Let me get cleaned up, kitten, and we’ll see about dinner, yeah?”

Tony’s a little disappointed; he’d thought that kiss was building up to something, but he gamely smiles and says, “Sure thing, Bucky Babe.”

Bucky brushes another kiss over his forehead, tugs just enough at the collar to get Tony to gasp, and then ducks into the bathroom. Tony calls the concierge to bring up their dinner as he hears the shower turn on. He putters around the suite, making sure that the lighting is romantic, doublechecking that the balcony doors are closed, and pulling the champagne out of the ice bucket so it has time to warm up a little. By the time their meal has arrived, fragrant and steaming hot, Bucky is stepping out of the shower so Tony goes over to the bathroom to let him know their food is ready.

His gaze lingers on Bucky’s naked body, always incredible. Bucky takes care of himself and that shows in his muscular arms and toned stomach that always get Tony a little hot under the belt. Bucky is toweling off his hair when Tony opens the door and he grins at the mirror at the way Tony falters when he sees him.

“Something I can do for you, kitten?” he asks.

Tony shakes himself out of his reverie, pulling his eyes back to Bucky’s face. “Wanted to tell you food’s here.”

“What did you get for us this time?”

“Chicken and asparagus.”

“No steak?”

“I’m watching your health.”

Bucky drops the towel on the counter and stalks toward him, snagging him around the waist for a quick kiss before he continues on in to the bedroom. He tugs on a pair of sweatpants, much nicer than Tony’s own, but forgoes the shirt in favor of reaching for the bottle of champagne to pour it into two glasses.

Tony follows him and dishes up their plates as Bucky sets the glasses out, moving around him in a well-practiced dance they’ve done many times before. Tony is a good escort, he knows he is, and that means he knows what to do for each client, not that he’s had many since taking Bucky on. Hammer wants him smiling vapidly and singing his praises to anyone who’ll listen at one of his galas, Stone wants him wearing a plug the size of his fist before he even shows up at his penthouse, and Bucky wants him to take care of their food while he handles the drinks.

Dinner is a quick affair, filled with light, easy conversation about Bucky’s conference in Paris and how Tony’s flight had been. He doesn’t bother asking what Bucky’s expectations for the weekend are; Bucky will tell him eventually and—he glances toward the bedroom where he can see one of the bedposts on the bed—he already has a pretty good idea.

“So doll,” Bucky says eventually, putting his napkin down. Tony has already finished eating and has been taking small sips of champagne for the last ten minutes. “I was here for this conference and how I’ve got this incredible view that I don’t even get to look at that much and I was thinking about how nice it would be to share it with someone. And then I checked your website and wouldn’t you know it, you’re free this weekend.”

“So you hired me to stare at the view while you’re busy at a conference,” Tony deadpans.

Bucky throws him a fondly annoyed look, a feeling that Tony seems to inspire in a lot of people. “I hired you to stare at the view with me because my conference ended today.”

Oh.

He thinks again about that possessive streak of Bucky’s, the way he just casually buys him things because he knew Tony would like them and “Why wouldn’t I want to spend the money on you, kitten?” Maybe, he thinks to himself, just maybe.

“Well then,” he says lightly, trying to hide the way his chest feels hot at the very thought of Bucky making him his, “if you’re going to spend all that money just to fly me out here.”

“Worth every penny,” Bucky swears. His grey eyes are going dark again as they drop to the neckline of Tony’s sweater, his voice a low growl when he says, “Take it off for me.”

Tony shivers. So they’ve reached that part of the night then. He stands, hands going for the hem of his sweater. He toys with the hem for a moment before slowly drawing it up his body and over his head, reaching back behind his neck to make sure that the fabric doesn’t catch on the buckle of his collar.

“That’s it, Tony, baby,” Bucky croons as Tony drops his hands to the waistband of his pants. “All of it.”

Tony keeps his gaze fixed on Bucky’s as he shimmies the pants down off his hips and to the floor, stepping out of them when they puddle around his feet. Bucky catches sight of the stockings and he groans lowly, making Tony bite back a smile. He’s never worn the stockings before but he had thought Bucky would like them. He seems to really like Tony in lacy things.

“Come here,” Bucky urges him, reaching for his hips. “Let me see you.”

And Tony goes. He stands in between Bucky’s spread legs, letting him run his hands up and down the stockings, the material catching on his legs and lighting up his sensitive skin. Bucky ducks his head to run his tongue along the line of Tony’s panties. He catches them between his teeth and tugs on them, pulling them away from Tony’s body just an inch.

“I like these. Did I buy them for you?”

“Mmhmm,” Tony says breathily. He runs his hand through Bucky’s hair, marveling again at how soft it is. Bucky’s hair is like silk. He wants to spend all day running his fingers through it, see if he could make Bucky make that purring sound he sometimes makes when he’s content.

“Pretty color,” Bucky mutters and pulls the panties down over his hips enough that he can breathe warm air over Tony’s dick, which immediately perks up like it knows it’s going to get some attention (not that that’s a shock; he’s been half-hard since Bucky walked into the room). “Pretty cock. Pretty Tony.”

Tony moans at the compliment, sinking into Bucky’s lap when he’s tugged down and straddling him. “Bucky—please kiss me.”

And Bucky does, hard and biting and demanding the way only he does. Tony’s had clients who like to kiss him before—not many but some—and not a single one of them has ever kissed him like Bucky does. Bucky kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and it’s the only thing he’ll ever want to do, like he’s oxygen and Bucky is suffocating. He kisses him like—like he loves him, only Tony doesn’t let himself think about that too much.

And Bucky tells him sweet things in between kisses, tells him that he’s beautiful as Tony winds his hands in his hair, tells him that he’s the prettiest thing Bucky’s ever taken to his bed as he mouths wet kisses down Tony’s neck, tells him that he’s being so good for him as he puts his mouth over Tony’s nipple and sucks.

Tony shouts, hands tightening in Bucky’s hair, rocking his hips into Bucky’s. Bucky sucks again, mouth pulling hard on Tony’s chest, and then he bites and Tony thinks he should be used to this but he doesn’t know how he could ever get used to something like this.

“Being awfully loud there, kitten,” Bucky murmurs.

“Like you didn’t pay for the quietest room there is,” Tony quips back, brain still working even through the miracle that is Bucky’s finger twisting his other nipple.

Bucky scoffs dismissively and slides two of his fingers inside Tony’s mouth, shoving them to the back where he nearly gags on them before he gets with the program and sucks.

“That’s better,” Bucky says and Tony rolls his eyes because he knows that Bucky likes it when he talks. “Hey, no sass out of you.” He taps Tony’s lips sharply before driving his fingers in again. Tony flicks his tongue between Bucky’s fingers, twisting and curling around them to get them as wet as possible so that when Bucky finally removes them from his mouth, they’re practically dripping. He slips wet fingers inside Tony’s panties and parts his cheeks to slide a finger inside his hole, rolling the tip of his pointer finger around his rim as it loosens

Tony uses his grip on Bucky’s hair to direct him back to his mouth and he’s so glad that Bucky lets him because he knows that he’s not the strong one in this relationship. He knows that Bucky owns some kind of tech company but he has no idea what else Bucky does—because there must be something else for him to be so strong.

“Bucky,” he whispers into his mouth, trying to shift back further on Bucky’s finger and completely fails to do so.

“Shh, kitten,” Bucky says. “Let me make you feel good.”

And he raises Tony up on his knees just with the grip he has on Tony’s hip so he can slide his panties off. Tony raises one leg to slide it off but Bucky kisses him again before he can kick the panties off completely so they dangle from his ankle, a flag of his personal surrender. He reaches for something on the table that Tony hadn’t noticed before and when he comes back, his lube-wet fingers slide in slowly, two at a time because Bucky’s never gone the easy route if he can help it.

Tony groans, thrusting back on his fingers as they press into his prostate. Bucky just smiles and whispers into his ear, “Gripping me so tight, babe. Gonna feel so good on my cock.”

“I always feel good on your cock,” Tony snarks because he is a gift and Bucky had better not forget that.

Bucky chuckles and drives his fingers in harder, shoving them into Tony’s body to make space for his cock. “That’s true. Hold onto me.”

Tony barely manages to grab his shoulders before Bucky lets go of his hips to dig into his pocket. He wants to watch, wants to know what Bucky’s looking for, but the fingers of his other hand are still curling in Tony’s body and he can’t help but close his eyes as his head drops back and he whines.

He hears a soft clink and then the collar suddenly gets heavier. A leash. Bucky’s put a leash on him. That’s—oh that’s hot.

Bucky yanks on the leash, pulling his head back to face him and pairing it with a vicious twist of his fingers in Tony’s hole, and Tony cries out again. “Bucky, please,” he begs. “Please fuck me, please, just—”

“I’ve gotcha,” Bucky says. He pulls his fingers out and sharply slaps Tony’s ass once. “Get up.”

Tony thinks about whining, thinks about asking why he has to get up when his legs feel so wobbly, he’s sure he’ll collapse if he tries to stand. Then Bucky slaps his ass again, harder this time, and he squeals before jumping up. He can’t go far. Bucky still has a grip on the leash, wrapped around his hand, and he uses it to make sure Tony goes only as far as he wants him. With one hand, Bucky slides his sweatpants down, just enough to lift his dick out.

Tony’s breath catches in his throat. In his line of work, he doesn’t see many beautiful cocks but Bucky’s—Bucky’s is a work of art: long and thick and a dark olive that flushes as he strokes it. There’s a drop of precum beading up from the tip of his cut cock that Tony wants to get his mouth on and lick up.

“Come here,” Bucky orders. Tony straddles him, Bucky’s right hand immediately going back to his hip like it belongs there, the leash rubbing against his oversensitive skin. His left hand strokes up and down his cock, lubing himself up, letting out tiny groans. Tony wants to turn around and watch but the blissed expression on Bucky’s face is almost as good. He leans up as best as he can to kiss the little furrow between Bucky’s brows and when he pulls away, Bucky is watching him with this wondrous, dazed look in his eyes.

“How are you real, kitten?” Bucky murmurs. It doesn’t sound like he’s expecting an answer so Tony just kisses him again as Bucky pulls his hand away from his cock to hold his cheeks open as he positions Tony.

He’s lowered slowly—oh so slowly—until Bucky’s thick cock is splitting him open. He keens, unable to toss his head back the way he wants because of Bucky’s grip on the leash, breaking off into a soft “Oh!” as he settles Tony in his lap, all of his cock tucked away inside Tony’s body. He always thinks that Bucky is too big for him, that this time he won’t fit, but no—Bucky is just as big as he needs to be, Tony is just as open as he needs to be but with his cheeks settled against Bucky’s thighs, mouth open and panting, Bucky feels bigger than ever.

His fat head is pressed against Tony’s prostate, dragging against the sensitive nerves, and Tony whimpers as every little move lights him up from the inside out. His cock is drooling against Bucky’s stomach, smearing wet against his toned abs.

“Feel good?” Bucky hisses into his ear. Tony nods desperately. He does, he feels amazing. “Cause you sure feel good around me, squeezing me so tight.”

He starts to drag Tony up and Tony cries out, clenching down in a futile attempt to keep Bucky inside him. Bucky moans and drops him again, slamming into his prostate.

“Bucky!”

“If you don’t want me to drop you, you shouldn’t do things like that,” Bucky chuckles.

“If you don’t want me to do things like that,” Tony shoots back at him, “you shouldn’t try to pull out.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “No? What do you want me to do, kitten? Thought you wanted to be fucked.”

“You telling me you can’t figure out a way to fuck me like this?”

It’s a challenge, one that he knows Bucky will rise to. He always does. So he sits there, primly perched on his lap with Bucky’s cock hard as steel inside him as he waits for him to decide what to do. And when he thinks Bucky has almost figured it out, he squirms, just a little, as much as he can with the leash still gripping him tight.

“So that’s what you want, is it,” Bucky murmurs, eyes lighting up. His hand slides around to the small of Tony’s back, pressing him down as he grinds up. “Not a thrust but—” His hips twist and his cock jerks and Tony moans. “Yeah, that’s it, baby.”

He does it again and again and Tony swears he can feel Bucky’s cock in his fucking throat, he’s so deep inside him. Bucky croons to him, soft words about how good Tony looks writhing on his cock, challenging him to come untouched. Tony thinks he could do it; he’s never managed it before but he wants so badly to be perfect for Bucky that he thinks he can do it this time. Heat is coiling in the base of his stomach, winding him tighter like a coiled spring.

“Bucky,” he gasps. “Bucky—oh—please.”

“Please what?”

He doesn’t even know.

“Just—ah—please!”

And Bucky smirks at him, that filthy, devil-may-care smirk that promises bad things for Tony’s future, before bending Tony back over his arm. His cock presses in new ways inside him and he wails—and that’s when Bucky fits his teeth around Tony’s nipple and pulls—and Tony comes screaming, cock pulsing as he shoots white ropes up Bucky’s chest.

Bucky jerks him upright then, grinds into him twice more, and then comes, spilling deep inside his body. He’s the only one of Tony’s clients that he lets fuck him without a condom and it’s entirely because he thinks he might actually die if he couldn’t have this feeling of Bucky filling him. And maybe that’s melodramatic but Tony’s never been accused of being stoic.

“Arms up, kitten,” Bucky pants into his hair, pressing little, urgent kisses against his damp curls. They’re both sweat-soaked, definitely going to need a bath or at least a washcloth, but when Tony wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, he’s carried not to the bathroom but to the bed where Bucky sets him down gently before sliding out of him.

Tony watches through half-closed eyes as Bucky walks naked as the day he was born back through the suite and into the bathroom, emerging clean and with a washcloth for Tony. He’s wiped down and rolled onto his side for Bucky to cuddle up behind.

Bucky pets his rim gently, soothingly. “May I?” he asks quietly.

He knows what Bucky is asking. They’ve done it before and always it brings a little thrill to Tony’s mind. He nods sleepily and waits until Bucky’s cock has slid back into its place inside him. Sometimes, he thinks that Bucky’s cock fits so well inside his hole that he must have carved out a permanent place for himself. Oh sure, he tells himself with a little snort, because that’s romantic.

Bucky’s arm wraps around his waist to pull him even tighter into his body, his nose burrowing into Tony’s throat. Tony reaches down to link his fingers through Bucky’s, humming contentedly.

“Tell me about your day?” he asks quietly.

Bucky presses a swift kiss to his nape and then starts to tell him about the worst speaker he’s ever heard at one of these things. It sounds funny but Tony’s exhausted and since he knows that Bucky doesn’t mind if he dozes, he drifts off to sleep, lulled by the sound of Bucky’s voice.

Title: Begging for More Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25914820 Square Filled: O4 - Only One Bed Ship/Main Pairing: Winteriron Rating: E Major Tags & Triggers: Sex work; explicit sexual content Word Count: 4.3k

#alle writes #alle answers #nsfk #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging #ad1thi #submission

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anythingandeverything1d · 5 years ago

Text

Backstage Slumber

YOUR POV:

It had been a long exhausting day. You and Harry had traveled across the U.S. for his next show, rushing to the arena for sound check. You had helped set everything up and helped get Harry ready for his performance. “Good luck H.” you kissed him softly on the lips.

Harry smiled and kissed you back. “Are you going to watch?”

“Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world.” You wrapped your arms around his waist and smiled. “I just want to change clothes and grab a water first.” You attention turned to the stage where the band had begun playing the first song. You reluctantly stepped back from Harry and gave him a thumbs up. “Youre going to kill it tonight.”

“Only because youre here.” He winked and ran out on stage. The fans went crazy and you couldnt help but smile at the boy on stage. You wandered back to the dressing room in search of your water bottle and a new shirt. Your stomach growled. You couldn't even remember the last thing you had eaten. You changed shirts and dropped to the couch with your water bottle in hand. Even though you wanted to head back to the stage, you decided a minute of quiet and some time alone would do you good. You were scrolling through your instagram, yawning every few minutes. Harry was only a few songs in, so you decided a 20 minute nap would make the rest of the night much more fun. You grabbed Harry’s hoodie from the floor and pulled it over your body as a blanket. You meant to set an alarm, but instead you just switched your phone off of silent and dropped it to the floor. Within a few minutes, you were out cold.

HARRY’S POV:

Harry was tired. His show wasn't going the greatest either. He felt extremely low on energy. He was at least grateful to sleep in a hotel bed tonight rather than the airplane seat he had last night. He kept looking to the side of the stage hoping you would be there cheering him on. It always gave him an extra boost to get through the second set. You were nowhere to be found, and that was a little concerning but he continued on. After the last song of the night, Harry thanked the audience for coming and waved goodbye. He wandered backstage looking for you, only to come up short handed. He wandered into his dressing room and smiled. Hie eyes drifted to your body, curled in a ball on the couch and buried under his hoodie. He pressed a kiss to your cheek hoping to wake you up, but you didn't even move. Harry decided to let you sleep a little longer, so he jumped in a shower and cleaned up. He was hoping you would be awake when he walked out, but instead you were still on the couch, eyes closed, face half buried in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Harry smiled, your mouth was open and drool was dripping down your cheek. You looked so perfect, so content. He ran his finger over your cheek and yawned himself. “(y/n)...” he whispered. If he could get you up, the two of you could head back to the hotel for the night. “Babe...wake up..” Harry had no luck, you were out and he was exhausted. He yawned and slid onto the couch next to you. He pulled you against his chest and nuzzled his chin into the crook of your neck. He trailed kisses along your cheek before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

YOUR POV:

You opened your eyes. It felt like you had only been asleep for a few minutes so you reached for your phone. I can still make it for the last song...You then realized Harry’s bare arms were wrapped around you. You frowned and bit your lip. You had missed the whole concert. You turned and your frown turned into a smile. He was snoring softly, his eyes closed, and his body wrapped around yours. You pressed your lips to his and smiled. He blinked a few times, registering what was happening and then kissed you back. He sat up, you moving to his lap. You kissed him softly before he pulled away. “Morning sleeping beauty.” His voice was extra deep, covered in a thick accent that only occurred when he was very tired.

“I’m sorry I missed the show..”

“It’s okay..I understand.” He yawned and smiled. “We’ve had a long couple of days and youre not used to it like I am.” Harry touched his nose to yours.

“I meant to set an alarm..” You laughed and Harry smiled.

“I’m kind of glad you didn't. You were so cute, drooling, cuddled in my shirt.”

“I don’t drool.”

“Oh you definitely do.” He kissed you, his warm lips crashing to yours with a grin. “But I love it, just like I love you.”

“You could’ve woken me...” you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“I tried, but you were out like a light. I figured it would be easier just to join you for a bit. Plus I’m exhausted too.”

“I’m glad you did...” You looked at him with a smile and he bit his lip.

“You know..I think you might owe me.”

“For what?”

“For missing my show.”

You laughed and shook your head. “And what exactly do I owe you?”

He kissed you, his lips opening yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth. “I think we could work something out.”

“Mhm” you pulled yourself closer to him. His hands slid up your shirt and you gently tugged at his bottom lip. “Shouldn't we make our way back to the hotel first..”

Harry shook his head, unclipping your bra and moving his hands around to your chest. “I think we are good here...”

“What happened to you being exhausted?” you laughed as he pressed his lips to yours again.

“I think our little backstage slumber helped. Now stop talking babe....”

---

Got a request for this so enjoy!

xoxo

#Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years ago

Text

your three favorite shawns / 1

sleepy shawn part 1 of 3

when shawn returns from tour, a grilled cheese and a shower is all he needs to feel at home.

wc: 1531

warnings: partial nudity, carbs, and excessive amounts of yawning.

There’s a deafening stillness in the condo.

The pressure from the silence makes it feel like you’re underwater somehow. There’s a gentle ringing in there somewhere, and it’s just so fucking quiet you feel like you’re on another planet instead of cozied up with your boyfriend on the couch. It’s his first day home from tour and his body is in a different timezone so he’s done his usual thing of sleeping until he wakes up at a normal time. Sometimes it was two hours, sometimes it was sixteen. Currently, you were rounding hour seven and your left leg had gone numb somewhere after hour five.

Lights from the Christmas tree (that Shawn insisted needed to be put up November first) are the only thing lighting the room. The tv had been on but muted, and you had been stuck watching Harry Potter with subtitles all day. Shawn’s breath is light against your skin as he breathes steadily in and out, both of his arms wrapped around your middle.

You suppose if you didn’t have to pee so bad you could’ve made it another hour or so before you had to wake him up to move, “babe,” you whisper, gently nudging your shoulder against his iron grasp.

This only causes him to instinctively hold you tighter and grumble incoherently into your ear.

“Too early,” he mumbles.

“It’s ten-thirty at night,” you respond.

“Too late.”

“I have to pee, Shawn.”

He loosens his grip on you enough for you to wiggle out. You’d been pressed together for so long that the coolness of the room hits you hard when you’re out from underneath the blankets.

Your (numb) legs move quickly, running on your tiptoes against the cold wood floors. When you return to Shawn, he’s sitting up, hair sprouting up in seventeen different directions and staring off into the void of the living room.

He looks positively adorable, sad, relieved and exhausted all at once, “oh, bub,” you say, dropping to the couch and straddling his lap.

Shawn buries his face in your chest, wrapping his arms around you, “I’m so tired,” he groans and you can hear it all in his voice.

This last tour had really kicked his ass; on the road for almost a full year with barely any breaks, at least none long enough to catch his fucking breath for a little while. It was all starting to wear him down and you were glad it ended when it did. Now, with the holidays and New Year approaching, it was time for him to finally relax.

“I know, baby,” you coo, threading your fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp the way he likes, “we can go to bed soon, but you should probably at least eat and take a shower, hmm?”

He nods and lifts his head up, bumping his nose against yours, “I love you.”

You smile and give him a quick kiss, “I love you too. Now, what would you like to eat?”

Shawn grins widely and with a yawn, “grilled cheeeeeese.”

—-

“No falling asleep yet!” You yell from the kitchen, flipping the sandwiches in the pan.

Shawn groans, “not sleeping, just resting my eyes.”

“I heard you snoring!” You pip.

“I farted.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, slipping each sandwich onto a plate. Shawn puts the blanket back over you and dives into his food, moaning and eyes rolling towards the back of his head.

“There is something about the pure simplicity of bread, cheese and butter that is just so...absolutely fantastic,” he says, scarfing down his grilled cheese quicker than you.

“Just like...pure fat and carbs, man. And maybe made with a teeny bit of love,” you say, giving him a crumby peck on the cheek.

Shawn grins, mouth full of food, “I fucking love grilled cheese, and I fucking love you. And I reckon that if I blink any more I’m going to fall asleep. What day is it?”

You do your best to stifle your laughter. While you feel terribly, Overtired Shawn is one of your top three favorite Shawns (right after Horny and Hockey, respectively). When he finishes his food he runs his fingers through his hair and slaps his face a couple times for good measure before standing up.

“I’ll go get the shower started. Meet me there in five?” He asks.

“I’ll do one better and meet you in three,” you wink.

He smirks and walks backwards towards the hallway but not without stumbling over the corner of the area rug first. You finish your sandwich quickly and take care of the dishes before tiptoeing up the hallway to the bathroom. You can hear the water beating against the glassed in shower stall and poke your head in to see a half naked Shawn fumbling with his travel toiletry bag.

“The zipper is stuck and I just need my razor,” he groans, tugging at the pull tab.

He’s skinnier than when he left, he always loses weight on tour. The wild hours and late nights means missed meals, but a few weeks back at home, and a few of his mum’s Sunday Roasts and he’s back to normal again. You meet him at the vanity, biting your lip and letting your eyes soak him in.

“I am a human being not a piece of meat. Also, you’re late. Four minutes, tsk tsk.” he smirks at you, then yawns sheepishly.

You run your palm from his chest down his stomach, eventually stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants, “I can make it up to you?”

He kisses you, his lips curling up into a smile against yours before pulling away, “if I’m tired, that means my dick is non-functional. Do you remember after the Grammys?”

“Unfortunately.”

Shawn bites into your arm, “another time, love. Then you can have me ten ways from Sunday.”

You raise an eyebrow, “tempting, now strip. You smell like an airplane toilet.”

He obliges, and the both of you step into the steaming shower. You let Shawn go first, trying not to stare too hard as the water ripples down his neck and chest, down his stomach…

“Can you wash my hair with your shampoo? That coconut-y one?” He asks, snapping you back.

You smile,“of course.”

Being that he’s so much taller, you make Shawn tip his head back to shampoo his hair, letting your fingers and nails scratch at his scalp and thread through his locks. He sighs happy sighs and you watch as the muscles in his body systematically relax one by one.

He’s home.

“Your turn,” Shawn says when he’s done rising his hair.

While he’s not quite as graceful, it’s a soft gesture, and he takes care to be gentle against the snags in your hair, working them out slowly with his fingertips. There is no more perfect place on the planet than here at this moment.

When you’re both done washing yourselves, you reach for the shower knob and Shawn stops you, “can we just stay here a bit?” He asks .

You nod, “of course, bub.”

Shawn pulls you against him, letting the hot water hit your back. It’s the most beautiful moment because it’s so damn simple and so damn quiet. All you hear is the melodic rhythm of Shawn’s beating heart against your ear and the water tapping against the glass shower door.

“Are you ready for bed yet?” He asks with a big yawn.

This time he lets you turn off the water.

—-

You both settle into bed and it’s an instant relief for Shawn. He can never quite put a finger on how fucking good it feels to come home to his own bed and feel his body melt into the mattress. Of course, having you there to hold is just an added bonus.

Shawn cuddles up behind you, slipping his hand under your shirt and resting it on your stomach, “I thought your dick was non-functional?” You say.

“Oh it is, this is just..comforting? Can I hold your boob?”

You snort, “sure.”

He nuzzles his nose against the back of your neck and moves his hand to cup your breast. It’s incredibly gentle, and if he hadn’t said anything you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“This is nice, they’re very warm,” he mumbles, and you can tell by the distance in his voice that he’s already half asleep.

The room is quiet except for Shawn’s breathing and you settle into a comfortable spot in his arms. You know within the hour you’ll both be sprawled on opposite sides of the bed, but he preferred to, at the very least, fall asleep together.

“Hey Shawn?” He lets out a low grumble in response, “I missed you and I’m happy you’re home.”

He shifts behind you, kissing your shoulder, “love and missed you too. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

You snort, “goodnight sleepy butt.”

Shawn’s reply is a deep snore, and you can tell by the way his grip loosens that he’s out for good. His little snores fill the room and there’s no better sound, and no better feeling than your home being full once again.

#shawn mendes #be gentle this is the first thing i've written in MONTHS #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #tfs

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crazylittlethingg · 5 years ago

Text

He doesn't remember me

Summary: Joe had to leave you and your newborn son, Joey for 2 months because of a project he had. He didn’t want to leave as he loved you with all his heart. What happens when he comes back. Will Joey recognize his dad?

Words: 1272

Warning: It's too sweet it might cause cavities

A/N: Hope you like this image of Joe. I have always had this idea of Joe being a dad and just had to do this. This is my second imagine hope you like it. I will appreciate if you could give me feedback

Joe had to leave again to film a new movie. You were used by now after being with Joe for 4 years. It was his job and you supported him. The problem was that he was leaving for 2 months. It wasn’t a problem, as previously he had already left this amount of time and more. The only problem is that you now had a 9 months old baby boy. When Joe found out you where pregnant he wouldn’t let you do anything by yourself. He had also decided to drop all the roles that weren’t within an hour's drive from your house. He didn’t want you to be alone and wanted to protect you at all costs. This was the first role he had after your baby was born. He was going to London and you couldn’t travel because you didn’t want Joey to be on an airplane for 12 hours it was just too much for him. Also, Joe’s schedule was pretty hectic so he wouldn't have much time.

“I can’t leave you guys, I'm just going to tell my agent I can’t,” He said while pulling silly faces at your bundle of joy that was currently sitting at the top of his stomach.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright we will FaceTime you everyday ” Joe made a sad face to Joey and he let out a loud laugh. Joe smiled slightly.

“Promise?”

“Of course” He then put his arm around you and Joey shifted to lay down in between you.

“I love you so much”

“We love you too” With that, all the three of you drifted to sleep.

-Time Skip - *2 months later

You had called Joe every day as promised and face time as much time as he had available. He suffered the most as you had Joey there with you every day and Joe was all by himself. Joey had missed his dad as they were inseparable but with the time he had forgotten he had a dad. He had grown up a lot. He was now eating full foods and mainly solid foods. He was also way more active than he was before. He would crawl everywhere and you had to put security in every corner. The greatest thing he had done so far was walking with your help and when grabbing into furniture. Joe was so happy when you had told him and ended him the videos but that suddenly changed to sadness as he remembered he wasn’t there and he wasn't there to see his kid growing up.

This had been a long journey but Joe was retuning today. You were super excited running around the house doing all types of chores before Joe arrived home, you wanted it to be perfect. You had finished all the chores, cooked and you still had 2 more hours before Joe arrived. You decided to cuddle with Joey as it was his nap time and watch some tv before Joe arrived.

You might have accidentally fallen asleep while waiting. You woke up to the sound of the door closing. As soon as you heard the door you stood up and carried Joey. Joey shifted in your arms as he stretched. He looked up at you with a disoriented face as “why did you wake me up”. I just smiled and kissed him.” dada, is here” Joey looked like he didn’t care and just put his head in the crook of my neck. I kissed the top of his head as I headed down to the first floor. You saw Joe leaving his suitcases next to the door and going out to pay for the cab. You finished going down the stairs and waited for him at the bottom. Joey was sound asleep in your arms. When Joe came back again, as soon as he saw you he ran to where you where standing grabbed your face and gave you such a passionate kiss. With your free hand, you grabbed his neck. You pulled apart when you felt a little hand stretching. Joey looks annoyed as to how they had woken him up. He saw his dad.

“Hey Love”

“Hi Babe ”

“I can’t believe your here, I missed you”

“Babe I missed you so much you can’t even imagine” That's when Joey's head popped up and he looked straight at Joe with a confused expression in his face.

“Hey Buddy, I missed you so much. You have gotten so big,” Joey said while making arms to the little bud in your arms. He clung his little hand in the collar of your shirt. You handed Joey to Joe. Joey looked at you and you knew what was about to happen. Suddenly you heard a loud scream from your son.

“Hey, bud what’s wrong” Joe cooed and bounce him up and down to try and calm him down. Joey was trying to grab you and made hands to you. Joe finally gave up and handed him to you. Joey grabbed onto you as if his life depended on it. You gave him his pacifier and he was suddenly calm again. You looked up at Joe he had a sad expression and you could see that there where some tears that were threatening to fall.

“He doesn't remember me”

“Love he does it's just that he just woke up from a nap and he was a little grumpy”

“He doesn’t want me, he doesn't know who I am” He looked at you and he had a tear slipping down his cheek. You wiped it with your thumb.

“He does and he loves you, I am going to put him down so he can finish his nap” He noded and you headed upstairs.

Once Joey was sleeping you headed to your room as you saw that it was the only room with the light on and you figured that Joe was there. You headed inside and saw Joe under the duvet watching some tv. You crawled under the duvet and hugged him. You grabbed his chin and hooked your lips together. You then rested your head in his chest.

“I missed you so much, love”

“Me too, and guess what, well my son doesn't recognize his dad,” He said sarcastically while playing with your hair.

“Hey, he does remember you he asked for you plenty of times”

“Well it looked liked he had seen a monster”

“Well he did,” You said and he started tickling you. “No, but he was just really grumpy babe”

“No it's my fault, I am never, ever going to go for more than a month and stay with you all the time”

“Omg, I married the most exaggerated person in the world” He looked at you and you could see a smile “Love he does remember you, he is just like his dad he is grumpy when they wake him up

“I hope, and I am not grumpy in the morning” you both started laughing. With that, you both cuddled and watched tv when eventually Joe fell asleep.

Time passed and you suddenly heard cries from the other room. Joey was up. You went to his room very carefully as not to wake up Joe as you knew that he was really tired. You picked Joey up and headed to your room. You laid Joey between you and Joe. He was looking up at up while he was playing with your hair and cuddling into your side. He then turned around and saw his dad laying there. He had his mouth slightly open and little snores came out of it. Joey propped his head up and started crawling in his direction. He suddenly put his arm onto Joe’s stomach and Joe suddenly woke up with an uff coming out of his mouth. He looked down and saw Joey smiling up at him.

“Hey Bud, How are you doing” Joe grabbed him and Joey laid his body on top of his. He snuggles close to his chest. You saw Joe smiling while looking down at his son.

“I think someone missed you” you then leaned over and kissed him. You loved your perfect little family.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x y/n #joseph mazzello #joey mazzello #joe mazzello dad #gwilym lee #ben hardy #rami malek #john deacon #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello fluff #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody imagine #lucy boyton

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j-elaine-hyde · 4 years ago

Text

The Bean Chronicles: Part 9

Henry Cavill / Reader / Chris Evans

You stood at the sliding glass door staring out at the sunset. Breathing deeply, you felt calm that the only thing that lay in front of you was beautiful crystal clear water.

“Are you feeling any better my love?” Henry came up behind you holding two glasses of wine.

You partially smiled and nodded. He set down the glasses and pulled you into his lap.

“It’ll be ok darling. I promise. Right now? Let’s forget the rest of the world exists. Let’s just enjoy being in Bali, and focus on being happy.”

You had panicked in the car when the news broke. Henry was frantically trying to reach you, ultimately resorting to calling Ashley. She had told him to grab your passport and pack a bag because you were headed for the airport.

Thankfully due to the insane LA traffic, he had time to not only pack your bag, but pack his as well, and charter a jet for the two of you before you even reached the airport. You had hid in the plane waiting for Henry to get there, trying the entire time not to have a panic attack. Thankfully one of the flight attendants hooked you up with a Xanax and a glass of moscato.

By the time Henry arrived you were happily relaxed and napping on the plane. Ashley pulled him aside at the front, “Just keep in touch with me. Let me know how she’s doing. I don’t know where y’all are going, but just keep here there for a week or two. I’ll see you guys when you get back.”

Henry nodded, “Thank you Ash. Listen, would you have the movers come in and get everything over to the new house? I want to surprise her when we get back. And please make sure Adrian has everything he needs for Kal. You’re also now Kal’s emergency contact while we’re gone. Two weeks. Bali. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Perfect. I got you. Safe flight.” Ash trotted down the steps and climbed into the back of the waiting SUV.

Henry walked to the back of the plane where you were stretched out on a sofa. “Hello my love.... I’m here. You ready to get the hell out of town?...Baby are you ok?” He scooped you up and cuddled you. You slowly woke up, nuzzling your face against his chest, smiling once you looked up at his handsome face.

“I love you so much. Let’s run away.” You slid your arms around his neck.

“We are baby. I need you to sit up though, we’re about to take off.”

You didn’t even know where you were going until you were halfway there. At that point you were excited and giddy. After two separate rounds of some mile high club fun in the bedroom the two of you decided to watch a movie. The flight attendant brought in the food that Henry had ordered and handed you a small tray with another Xanax on it.

“Darling, do you really need that?” Henry asked.

“Yes. I do. I’m a terrible flyer despite doing it so often. Thanks to Mindy here, I’m good.” You nodded your glass in a cheers to her as you swallowed the pill.

The first morning you woke up in Bali was unbelievable. You sat on the patio with your knees tucked into the teeshirt of Henry’s you were wearing, watching the sun come up.

You went inside to make some coffee, started it, and went back into the bedroom to wake up Henry.

“Good morning...” you cooed as you crawled on top of him, kissing him repeatedly.

“I request to be woken up like this every morning for the rest of my life.” He said, face smushed into his pillow before turning his face, revealing a beaming smile.

You shifted off of him as he turned, curling up in his arms against him, relishing being the little spoon. “I think I can make that happen...”

He hummed into your neck as he wiggled with contentment. “Good.”

The next two weeks flew by. It was a blissful blur of sex, food, sleeping, and incredible views. You did nothing but relax and be happy. You had turned your phones to airplane mode in LA before you left and hadn’t bothered to turn them back on. Thankfully Henry had grabbed your camera, so you could get pictures. Most of which would have to be saved secretly on the SD card, because neither of you had worn any clothes the majority of your trip.

You wanted to stay there with Henry and never return. You had a pretty good idea of what was waiting for you back in LA and you didn’t want to deal with any of it.

You pouted on the plane ride home. Taking an extra dose of Xanax to get you through.

You landed in the middle of the night, groggily climbing into the back of the SUV, angrily shoving your phone in your purse, refusing to take it off of airplane mode.

Henry hadn’t done so, and turned his on mid-flight to make arrangements to be picked up. Despite putting his phone on silent it vibrated across the table as all of the notifications exploded on his phone. You watched it dance almost off the table before Henry placed his hand over it, catching it. You looked at him and shook your head before dropping it back into your pillow.

Once in the car, you slept the entire drive home and barely woke up as Henry carried you inside, tucking you into bed. It wasn’t until morning that you realized you were in your new home, with Henry sleeping soundly next to you.

You hopped out of bed as quietly as you could and took off into the house to look around. Your closet was full, organized, and straight out of a dream. All of your belongings were put away like you had always lived there.

You walked down to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee to find Ashley sitting at your kitchen counter going overboard with a label maker.

“Hey!! Welcome home!!” She beamed, hopping up to give you a hug. “How was Bali?!”

You sadly smiled, “I didn’t want to leave. I begged Henry to just stay there forever. Clearly he said no, but it was absolutely magical.”

“I bet!” She smiled.

“How bad is it Ash?” You slumped your shoulders and dropped your forehead to the marble counter top.

“It’s not good. I mean. It’s a lot. Everyone feels horrible for hating on you. They’re all super pissed at Chris. And slightly at Henry. But for the most part they all see you as a delicate victim and Chris as the big bad wolf. Henry is still Prince Charming, but ever so slightly shady. Chris’s initial plan has backfired and they’re all calling him out on it.”

“Is it stupid that I feel bad? Like he’s not a bad guy....”

Ashley looked at you with wide eyes as she continued playing with her label maker. “Don’t go getting all soft. He’s an asshole. He shared super private personal information with the world that was no one’s business. He’s a giant asshole. Is he in general a nice guy? Sure. But let’s not forget the shit he’s pulled in the last month just to get back at you.”

She printed off a sticker and stuck it to your forehead as she walked out of the room. “Love yoooouuuu.... just calling it like I see it.”

You were more concerned with coffee and made a cup as Henry walked into the kitchen in only boxers. You stared at his chiseled chest as he walked towards you. He furrowed his brow reading the sticker on your forehead.

“Are you a soft ass bitch today my love?” He gave you a quick peck as he turned to make his coffee.

“Apparently. According to Ash anyway...” you hopped up onto the counter and sipped your coffee pulling the sticker from your head.

“I see Ashley has been having quite a bit of fun with my label maker...” he held up the bottle of starbucks creamer pointing to the ‘Kryptonite: Not for SuperBoys’ sticker she had placed on it. “She thinks she’s so funny....”

“Oh I am. But I see it didn’t stop you from drinking it....” Ashley walked through the kitchen. “Lighten up SuperDude. Welcome home!” She hollered as she continued down the hall.

You sat there stifling laughter as you sipped your coffee. He turned around and took your mug out of your hand, placing it on the counter next to you. Brushing your hair behind your shoulders and away from your neck, he clasped his hands on either side of it, pulling you towards him. “I love you. No matter what they say, we’ll be fine. Do you hear me? It’s you and me....”

“And meeee!” Ashley yelled from somewhere not too far away in the house.

“...and Ashley.”

You smiled, pursing your lips to keep from laughing, before Henry reat his forehead against yours. “I love you Hen...”

“Not nearly as much as I love you.”

You started to slide your hand inside the waist band of his boxers when his phone rang. He pulled away to answer it. “Babe, I’ve gotta take this.” He grabbed his coffee and headed to his office.

Ashley walked in from the other side of the kitchen. “Wait until you see what I did....”

“ASHLEY!!! GIVE ME BACK MY LABEL MAKER!!” Henry shouted from his office.

She started laughing and doing a victory dance. Before hiding the label maker in a cabinet. “Ohhhhh I crack myself up. You’ll see. Just wait. But I’ve gotta go pick up a few things. I’ll be back. If you need anything, text me.”

You sat there in the kitchen enjoying your coffee. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to refresh your cup and take it in the backyard, or if you wanted to track down your phone and see what was going on in the world.

‘Both.’ You decided as you hopped off the counter and ran upstairs to your bedroom. You found your purse and dug out your phone. Skipping back downstairs you swung by Henry’s office, noticing the “Fortress of Solitude” sticker on the door. You popped your head in the door to see labels on hundreds of items in his office. You silently laughed as you snuck away, careful to not interrupt Henry’s phone call. You clutched you’re mug and made your way out to the backyard.

Curling up on the outdoor sofa you sighed heavily as you swiped down and turned your phone off of airplane mode. You set it down on the sofa and watched the screen light up, one notification after the next. There were so many notifications the sound glitched out. You quickly put it on silent, tossing it back onto the cushion to finish blowing up.

“I thought I might find you out here.” Henry sauntered towards you.

“It’s not Bali... but it’ll do.” You shrugged.

“It’s better than Bali. It’s our home.” Henry laid down on the sofa, resting his head in your lap.

“I’m think I’m going to plant some palm trees...” you were looking around the yard as you twirled your fingers in his hair.

“Whatever will make you happy, my love.” He closed his eyes, a content smile on his face.

“Did you find your label maker yet?” You laughed as you asked.

“No. But I will. She labeled everything in my office. She put “Fortress of Solitude on my office door, SuperNerd’s computer on my monitor. The list goes on and on.”

“Don’t get mad Hen... she’s just... we’ll say hazing you. Making you an official part of our family. She’s accepted you into her circle now.”

“Oh I’m not mad.... I’m going to get even. This means war!” He shouted, as he sat up, acting dramatically and waving his fist before laughing and falling back onto your lap.

“Oh lord.... here we go....”

“So have you gotten into it yet?”

You swallowed hard, you knew he was asking about your phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do Darling.... have you?”

You shook your head no, “Nope. It’s glitched out. I turned it off airplane mode and it’s still going. I’ll either get a new number or wait for it to stop. I haven’t been able to get into it yet.”

“I’m sure your publicist is having a heart attack....”

“Oh undoubtedly. Honestly I’m surprised she didn’t show up in Bali.”

“I am too, to be honest. ....So Darling listen... I know we just got back, and just moved in... but filming starts in two weeks... in England.” He sat up. “Would you come with me? We already have a home there, it could use some help.... decorating and what not. But I can’t be without you for that long or that far away. Please say you’ll come with me.”

“Of course I’ll go with you. How long will we be there? You know I want to be anywhere but LA right now. And I’m not letting you disappear again. Ashley would kill you....”

“Filming takes like 6 or 7 months.... but we get breaks... and I think you’ll love it back home. You can meet my family... and I can show you around. It’ll be amazing to take you home.” He was beaming.

“Should we leave tomorrow?” You smiled as you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

#romance #fanfic #fiction #henry cavill #chris evans #fanfiction

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taehyungiestummy · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck -- Chapter Twelve

Masterlist Previous Next

Word Count: 3000

“Just a few more hours, princess,” Taehyung’s voice is the first thing I hear as I stir awake. “Have a nice nap?”

“Mmhmm,” I smile, stretching as best I can in an airplane chair.

“That’s good,” he kisses my temple. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” I rub my eye, noticing my lack of glasses. “Tae, my way to see.”

“Glasses, cutie,” he chuckles, handing me my case. “Still waking up?”

“Yeah,” I yawn, rubbing my cheek on his shoulder. “I guess all this traveling caught up with me.”

“Are you talking about last night? I am so sorry.”

“It’s not that,” I force my eyes to stay open. “I forgive you Tae. Babe, I’m the one who messed up. Jimin is a good friend of both of us, and I know how you get insecure. I am sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry. Just know, I am going to be better. They are our friends, and I shouldn’t get jealous. I’m the one who will be spending the rest of my life with you.”

“It’s good that you are a better person now, and you have grown. Being jealous over you friends is bad. Now, I am okay with you being protective when we go out.”

“Like, to award shows? Of course I’ll be protective. You won’t leave my sight.”

I smile, “I love you.”

“I love you, jagi,” he kisses my temple. “Tell me about your Instagram videos.”

“I posted a clip of me dancing, and now people want full videos. They love how I give a new twist to your dance.”

�� “We should dance together,” he lowers his voice. “Just the two of us, at home, in our bedroom.”

My cheeks are ablaze in seconds. “I don’t think so, so.”

“Nervous?”

“For my first time?” I whisper. “It’s only natural.”

“What about singing?” Taehyung brings his voice up to normal level. “Posted any clips of your lovely voice?”

“No, I am not confident enough to do that,” I shake my head, resulting in nuzzling further into Taehyung’s arm. “You are so comfy, babe. I might fall back asleep.”

“No,” he whines. “I want to talk to you more.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“Well, when we get home, I am going to show you so much love. So many kisses and cuddles.”

“I look forward to it.”

“And I am going to mark you up,” he teasingly nibbles the top of my ear. “You can do the same to me.”

“I will,” I choke out. “This is all so embarrassing, but I like it.”

“It’s so sexy,” he coos. “Princess, you do crazy things to me. You’ll never understand.”

“Oh, I understand. I have to watch you perform all the time, and it does the same thing. You are so hot on stage.”

He wiggles around so he can use the hand of the arm I’m leaning on to grab my hand and intertwine our fingers. “I guess that’s true. I don’t know how you keep your hands off me. It’s hard for me to.”

“Well, you are a dirty boy,” I smirk. “Is that all you want to talk about?”

“Are you really tired?”

“Is something wrong, Tae?”

“I’m just lonely and bored. Plus, my phone died.”

I giggle, “Grab my DS from my bag. I’ll play some Pokémon.” I give his hand a squeeze, pulling away and sitting up. “Can’t have my Tae-Tae sad.”

As I place my glasses on my face, Taehyung gets my DS and starts it up. It’s sweet moments like this that I live for.

“Do you want to play, babe?” I giggle as Taehyung begins exploring with my character.

“No, no,” he looks down at me. “You play it way better than I ever could.”

“I can teach you,” I grin up at him.

“Not this time. I just want to watch you, princess.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “I’ll play a game for you to watch when we get home.”

I press my lips to his for a few seconds, feeling my heart swell with happiness. “Put that down in the notebook of things I want to do.”

“You get to playing,” he hands me my DS, giving my cheek a kiss. “I’ll get my notebook out, and make sure it is up to date.”

I look down at the device in my hands, getting right to playing. “You are beyond sweet, oppa. All I do is stay by your side. I don’t have a notebook of things you want to do.”

“You don’t need one, because just being with me is enough. I’ll plan what we do, and make both of us happy.”

“I still like surprising you,” I nibble on my bottom lip.

“Don’t go overboard. I love you when you are just being you. You surprise me in little ways every day.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, “People think you aren’t that smart, but they are so wrong. You may get a faraway look sometimes, but you always know just want to say to cheer me up. You just like to be silly, but you can be serious.”

“This is why you are the only girl for me,” Taehyung rests his head on mine. “For now and forever.”

********

I sigh in content as Taehyung runs his fingers across my upper arm as he has his arm slung across my shoulder to keep me close. People are rushing around us as we walk with the group through the airport. Cameras flashing, security leading the way, and girls shouting whatever comes to their mind.

“Taehyung and Amber, you are too cute!” A girl shouts out from nearby.

I smirk under my black face mask. I’ll admit, Taehyung and I are a cute couple right now. The two of us are dressed up in the same outfit: black t-shirt, black sweats, black sandals, and a black face mask. Taehyung has headphones in, listening to a playlist I made for him. I have nothing in my ears to block out the noise.

“This way,” a man’s that’s with us to keep all of us safe, motions for us to exit out a door. Direction is changed, and in the next moment we are outside. The bright warm sun kissing my skin.

“Finally, fresh air,” I take a deep breath.

Taehyung leads me to the van that will takes us home, helping me into the back. “Careful, baby. No need to rush.”

I smile, slipping my backpack off my shoulders and placing it on the ground. Then I sink into the right seat. “Why so protective? I wasn’t going to trip.”

Taehyung is next to me in the next few seconds, pulling me onto his lap. “I heard some rude things, and I just want you safe.” He unhooks both our face masks from our ears.

“Like what?” I loop my arms around his neck.

“Things about your body, our relationship, and just nasty things. I’m glad you didn’t hear any of it. People can be terrible.”

“Too focused on you,” I smile.

He places kisses all over my face, “As you should be, so you don’t wander off.” His large hands grip my hips, and giggles leave my lips.

“Tae, you are so silly,” I capture his lips with mine. “But, kisses are always nice.”

“So, let me continue,” he mumbles against my lips before connecting them again.

“Stop,” Yoongi’s voice breaks Taehyung and I from our make-out. “No more. I have to ride home with you.”

I scoot off Taehyung’s lap, cheeks heating up. “Sorry. Are you sitting back here, brother?”

“No, I’ll stay in the middle,” Yoongi takes a seat in the middle right seat.

Jimin climbs in next, a smile on his face. “How are the two love birds?”

“Fine,” Taehyung pulls my legs to lie over his lap. “It went downhill when we stopped kissing.”

“Tae,” I squeal, slapping my boyfriends chest. “Come on, kissing isn’t everything.”

“It isn’t, but kissing you is like a drug. I can’t get enough,” he rubs his nose against mine.

The door to the van closes, and with the five of us, Namjoon now in the passenger seat, we take off.

“So, cutie, do you still have to pick up your dogs once you’re dropped off?” Jimin turns to look back at me. “Or did Emily drop them off already?”

“The second the plane landed, I texted her, and told her how far away we were,” I answer, grabbing Taehyung’s hand. “Our puppies should be patiently waiting for us.”

“I’ve missed Holly,” Yoongi sighs.

“My jagiya has missed our dogs,” Taehyung wiggles his fingers in my grasp. “So it’s good to be home for a little bit.”

“Namjoon-oppa, what are you doing up there?” I call up to the man in the front.

“Texting my lovely girlfriend,” Namjoon replies. “She’s coming over to the dorm, and your dogs are waiting for you at you apartment.”

“Oh, Tae, we need to clean when we get home,” I bring his hand up to kiss his fingers. “House party at our place tomorrow.”

“Finally,” Jimin teases. “I’m assuming take-out. You shouldn’t cook. You’ll be tired.”

“I can cook,” Taehyung pouts.

“Not that good,” Yoongi snarks.

A giggle bursts through my lips, but I slap my hand over my mouth in an instant. “Sorry babe.”

Taehyung presses a hard kiss to my cheek, “No worries, princess. I can get you back,” he smirks.

“Gross,” Jimin groans, turning around in his seat. “Don’t talk about your bedroom life around us.”

“What?” I stammer out. “No, oh goodness. Tae and I, we, we have never done anything. I swear.”

“Aw, little one, are you flustered?” Yoongi teases. “We know Tae takes it a tad far, giving you hickeys. Good to know sex is off the table at the moment.”

“Stop,” I whine, hiding my red face in my hands. “It’s personal, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We just sleep in the same bed, nothing more. We’ve been together for a few years, but sex is not for our relationship at the moment,” Taehyung says.

“Tae,” I whine. “Please, no more. This talk is going to make me explode from embarrassment.”

“Good, you don’t need to be thinking about it for a long time,” Yoongi says. “Stay a kid, Amber, for as long as possible.”

“I’ll always be a kid,” I pull my hands away from my face. “With Tae, I’m sure it will be easy.”

“Aw, jagi, your cheeks are so red,” Taehyung leans forward to rub our noses together again. “You are too cute. That’s why I love you so much.”

I giggle, shoving him away. “Shut up.”

“You only love her when she’s acting cute, Tae?” Namjoon questions.

“I love all of her,” Taehyung messes with the hem of my shirt. “All her personalities, and her looks. She’s my perfect princess.”

“So, when you get married, will she be promoted to queen?” Jimin asks.

“If that’s what she wants to be called,” Taehyung looks at me with a curious twinkle in his eyes. “Jagi, would you want to be called queen?”

I shrug, “I’m not sure. Do I have options?”

“Hm, I think wifey would be cute.”

“I really like that,” I tenderly smile. “Does that answer your question, Chim-Chim-oppa.”

“Yeah, it does, cutie,” Jimin glances back at me.

The rest of the ride is filled with random small talk about concerts , fans, and music. Finally, the attention is off me, and my face can cool down.

“I’ll see you up there, babe,” I give Taehyung a chaste kiss, rushing into the apartment building. The elevator will be way too slow, so I run right for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Thanking my workouts for keeping me in shape.

“Come on,” I fumble with my keys, struggling to open the door. Barks sound form the other side of the door, making my heart swell. “Calm down,” I take a deep breath. Then, I hear the door unlock, and I’m inside my apartment. Haipeo and Keyowo are on me in an instant. Yips and happy whines coming from the two dogs. They try licking any part of my skin they can find.

I fall to my knees, tears pouring out of my eyes. “Hi babies. Oh, mommy is home. I missed you so much.”

“Perfect timing,” Taehyung’s voice fills my ears minutes later. “Are you okay, jagi?”

I sniffle, “Just happy to be home.” I look back to see my boyfriend standing in the doorway with our luggage. “They missed their mommy,” I giggle as Haipeo licks the tears off my cheek, and Keyowo nuzzles my leg.

Taehyung chuckles, “Of course they did. I hope I get some love. Probably when you are taking a shower.”

“I should get going then,” I smile. “They missed their daddy, don’t worry. The three of us love you so much.”

“I hope so,” he smiles back. “Come on, you need a cleansing shower. Then lots of cuddles.”

********

If my house could always have as much life as it does on this day, then there’s no reason I would ever have to leave. All my friends together in one place lifts me up, and I feel better than ever.

“Thank you both to the moon and back for bringing the food today,” I smile at Emily and Nari as we stand in the kitchen.

“It was fun,” Nari pats my hand. “And you just got home, so we had to do it.”

“I did make a cake,” I look over at the smorgasbord: Noodles and rice, salad, cheesy potatoes, soondubu stew, roasted chicken, and my cake.

“It smells so good in here,” Emily leans on the counter. “Everything tasted great.”

“Seconds in a little bit,” I giggle.

The day has been a bigger hit than I could have imagined. Our own Forth of July party, and great open house to show the boys how we live.

“Are you home for five days this time?” Nari speaks up.

“Correct,” I look around at the boys that have made a home in mine.

Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok are out on the balcony talking about who-knows-what. At times they seem serious, but then they will burst into laughter. Yoongi is on the floor by the couch surrounded by the puppies. His gummy smile hasn’t left his face since the dogs came up to him. Holly loves Haipeo and Keyowo, so I can see a lot more playdates in the future. Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung have been playing video games for hours. They barely stopped to eat. As long as they have fun, I can’t complain.

“I’m just happy I got to spend some time with Namjoon yesterday,” Emily snaps me back into the conversation. “Staying at the dorm with him was what I needed.”

“And now you are spending time with me,” I boxy smile. “Nari, did you catch up with Jin?”

“Very much,” Nari’s gaze flitters to look at her boyfriend on the balcony. “We do well apart, though. Probably because we both work so hard, and chill time rarely has us thinking of the other.”

“That’s better than me,” I sigh. “being away from Tae is never easy.”

“I think I did okay,” Emily runs a hand through her hair. “Calling every night helped, and Skype is a blessing.”

“It’s a good thing your job allows you to travel, Amber,” Nari smile. “Taehyung truly is your angel.”

“Well, angle is a bold statement,” I chuckle, turning to look at my boyfriend.

Taehyung is already looking at me, and it makes a blush rise to my cheeks. His blank face turns to a smug smirk at my reaction. He runs his tongue over his lips, winking as he sits up on the couch. Then he blows me a kiss.

“I’m sorry girls, “I look back at my cousin and best friend. “There’s a boy on the couch who needs me.”

“More like wants,” Emily smirks, pinching my cheeks before I slap her hand. “Go ahead, though. We’ll go to our boyfriends.”

“Movie later, right?” Nari asks.

“Yes. This party is far from over,” I giggle, turning so I can walk over to my boyfriend.

“Baby,” Taehyung reaches out for me, making grabby hands. His tongue wetting his lips once again.

“Oh, Tae, so silly,” I plop down on the couch, giving him a quick kiss before snuggling into his side. “Did you need me for something?”

“Just wanted to cuddle, since I don’t want to play whatever it is they are playing.”

“It’s FIFA,” Jungkook glances back at us. “And it’s two player, so you can’t play anyways.”

“That’s okay,” I wiggle around as Taehyung wraps his arms around me. “We can watch.”

“You can play next, cutie,” Jimin smiles back at me. “If you want.”

“I’ve never played,” I place my hand on top of Taehyung’s that’s resting on my hip. “And, sports games really aren’t my thing. I’m okay watching.”

“Just speak up if you want to play,” Jungkook nods. “It is your house and system.

The two boys turn back to the TV, and I look up at Taehyung.

“Are you having fun, jagi?” Taehyung kisses my forehead.

“A ton,” I tenderly smile. “Our home has so much life. I always want it to feel like this.”

“Another thing to write down.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay awake for a movie,” I yawn “People still tire me out. Even friends.”

“You’ll just snuggle up to me and sleep,” Taehyung runs his fingers through my hair.

“Or, she can snuggle up to me,” Yoongi speaks up.

“Just squish me between the two of you,” I giggle. “Share me.”

“Tae will just hog you,” Yoongi shakes his head. “But we can try it.”

I smile, “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” I focus on the video game being played by Jungkook and Jimin. “Now, shush. I need to learn this crazy game.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you enjoyed reading! A bit of a shorter chapter, but that happens. I would love to know what you think so far! :D

#BTS #BTS fan fiction #BTS x OC #BTS imagine #Jungkook x OC #Jungkook imagine #Taehyung x OC #Taehyung imagine #Jimin x OC #Jimin imagine #Namjoon x OC #Namjoon imagine #Hoseok x OC #Hoseok imagine #Yoongi imagine #Yoongi x OC #Seokjin x OC #Seokjin imagine #My OCs

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goldenhour-goldenboy · 6 years ago

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William Miller Headcanons

A lot of the clothes William Miller owns are simple, unicolor basics really. He has a staggering amount of them though, some of the jumpers having holes in them, or stains that never quite washed out. When asked, why he doesn’t throw them away he simply shrugs, telling you that he still wears them from time to time whenever he’s fixing something and he needs a shirt that can get dirty and anyways “They’re still in perfectly good condition, Babe?”

For a men who likes to keep it practical he owns a lot of plaid shirts and knitted pullovers. Most of them come from his mom or the lovely old lady down the street, who he’d used to go grocery shopping for, back when she broke her ankle. She’s still so grateful for the helping hand that she knits him a pair of socks, some scarfs or a jumper here and there as a birthday or christmas present every year (she also might have gushed to her friends about that lovely young man and whenever some of them need help with fixing something around the house, they call Will up and see if he has the time to come around, ensuring more knitted clothing or baked goods to take home afterwards).

Most of his Jeans are in good condition, though they’ve been bleached more times than he can count buy now. He hates shopping for new clothes, as he feels most of the ones in stores are too tight and too short for him, the large crowds not really a positive factor either, as they tend to overwhelm him, so he drags out buying new clothes as long as he can. His side of the closet is in peak condition though, all clothes, no matter how ragged, neatly folded and sorted by color and/or fabric.

He’s big into cooking and genuinely gets excited about trying out new recipes. Will adores the asian cuisine, often trying to experiment with new spices here and there and he has a secret stash of oriental cookbooks on the highest cabinet in the kitchen. He really enjoys a good curry or some home made sushi and both of you try to make at least one big meal a week together, where you try something new or special.

William’s interest is not only centered in cooking though, he gets deeply fascinated by different cultures and would love travel far more often if his budget and schedule allowed it. Though he’s not too sorry, considering the fact that traveling has to do with airplanes. It’s not exactly the height factor that he dislikes but more the thought that he’s about to be stuck in a compromised area with people he doesn’t know and without being able to escape that situation for hours, that stresses him out.

Mornings for William are sacred. It is extremely important for him to follow his morning routine, not because it’s more beneficial for his health or anything, but because repeating same cycle calms him down. He wakes up early, when the sun is just starting to rise as he likes to make his run in the cool mist of the early morning, before taking a shower and preparing his coffee (black, with one spoon of sugar).

Mornings, really, are the most productive time for William. He likes to sit down and draft out what he has planned for the day, before you and the rest of the world wake up. Since he’s out for his run so early, morning cuddles are rare and you usually come down still yawning and half asleep, while he’s already thinking and functioning. The kitchen is peaceful then, everything a little slower and if you have the time you like to curl up in his lap and nuzzle your head against his warm, broad chest, while Will reads the newspaper.

In general, mornings are Will’s favorite time of the day. He likes the quiet it gives him, the comfort of his home with you cuddling up to him and the smell of coffee lingering in the air. There’s no music, no haste and as the sunlight starts to creep in through the window, he presses a soft kiss on top of your head, absolutely content with his world in this moment.

William Miller got his nickname “Ironhead” from Ben during an argument, when they came back to base after a failed training mission where both brothers seem to run high and clashed into each other. Wether it came from the fact that Will can be incredibly stubborn at times, to a point where he tried to hold onto an original operation plan for dear life, or the fact that he had earned a certain reputation as being hard to knock down (”Even his head isn’t a weak point, he doesn’t have any!”) remained uncertain but the name stuck with him, though both brothers have forgotten what the argument was even about.

William learned a lot in his years in the army, part being that sometimes the initial plan had to be abandoned. It took some time though, this being the main reason why Tom stayed in charge instead of William, even though both of them are very good at planning and keeping track of important details. Redly’s brain just seemed to work out a lot more exit routes and backup plans on the spot than William’s brain probably ever would and he happily accepted that fact, after he learned to trust Tom.

William adores all sorts of animals but he’s defiantly the most found of cats. He likes their calm nature, the fact that they have a mind of their own and he enjoys nothing more than the soothing purring of them, whenever he’s up late at night because sleep just doesn’t seem to come.

Instead of waking you up he quietly slips out of the bed then and pads down to the big armchair in the living room, navigating his way around the other furniture easily in the dark before turning on a single lamp and starting to journal. It doesn’t take long for one of his cats to find their way to him and into his lap, either rolling themselves into a small bundle and sleeping in seconds or lazily nudging their heads against the palm of his hand, asking, not so patiently, to be pet then.

Apart from his deeply rooted love for cats, William can’t abandon any animal that’s been hurt or left alone by it’s past owners, leading him to bring home lots of strays in his life. It started with the first cat he ended up keeping. An then a dog (that didn’t get along with said cat, so he had to part from him). Then another cat, that got to stay as well. At one point he came home and had a couple of toads in his trunk that he found near the road, and you have a hard time convincing him to find a more suitable home for them (”Maybe a somewhere, without cats. Or at least with a garden with a pond, love.”). You cut the line as he approaches the house with a donkey he found „in the woods“. The donkey is taken to an animal shelter a week later after it destroyed half the kitchen because someone said it had to stay in the house or otherwise it would catch a cold and die, if he’d be abandoned outside in the rain …

He is very keen on green energy and sustainable living and he cares about the environment a lot. Will can get very heated, whenever he reads a comment in the news from some politicians about climate change being a hoax or whenever he turns on the news and there’s a discussion about it, to a point where he swears for a couple of minutes and then has to take a walk to calm himself down again.

He also tends to shop more from the local farmers market if he can afford it and tries to buy anything locally instead of getting things imported form god knows where. This clashes a bit with him experimenting in the kitchen, since he does tend to need a special ingredient from time to time but otherwise he’s very careful about his ecological footprint.

Will loves to take baths with you. It’s soothing to him to fill up a tub with hot water and sprinkles in something from a bottle that he got for christmas from one of the old ladies (he fixed the sink for her and since she’s not great at either baking or knitting, she’d promise to gift him some handmade bath salt). He’s not quite sure what’s in it but it smells delicious.

It only takes minutes for him to strip and lets himself sink into the hot water, closing his eyes and sighing in content, as his muscles start to relax. You’re home a bit later, the water still steaming as you call for Will from the hallway, his answers seeming to come from upstairs.

You’re used to him taking a bath every now and again, so as you walk through the door, most of your clothes have been dropped already on your way to him. His head turns as he hears you come in and he grants himself a long moment to let his eyes wander over your body, slowly, before you get into the tub with him. William wraps his arms around you almost instantly, pressing a kiss right behind your ear. “Long day, huh?” you ask him and he hums in response, leaning back a bit and pulling you with him, content and warm and happy. Though his eyes are closed and he seems relaxed, his fingers trail up and down your arms, moving forward inch for inch until he strokes the soft skin on your tummy, moving down agonizing slowly.

He likes to immerse himself into a topic. Since William is naturally curious about all sorts of things, he’s usually hyper fixating on a subject or two at a time, extending his already broad spectrum of random knowledge steadily.

Whenever he finds something interesting, he can’t help but share it with you. It happens a lot that he reads parts from the newspaper to you, that he just finds utterly fascinating (at least to him) or sends you something that he found online. It’s common for him to text you throughout the day with a snippet of information usually starting like „did you know that…?“ and therefore you also learn a lot of random facts, though sometimes you really could care less about whatever he just discovered.

William has a huge soft spot for animal and science shows. They calm him down and he’s genuinely interested as to how the Great Barrier Reef came to be for example. You’ve learned that he usually doesn’t want to be interrupted when he watches them, even though he totally wouldn’t mind if you’d cuddled up beside him.

A good chunk of your shared bookcase in the living room is filled with his books and a huge dvd collection, that consists of a lot of documentaries, educating mainly on topics about the environment and history of all parts of the world. He absolutely loves them and has watched every single one at least twice.

It’s no surprise that Will owns a lot of books. They’re mostly focusing on psychological subjects and he acquired quite a few of them when he first started writing speeches (though they also range to how to fix a car and picture books about the most exotic animals on the planet and their behavior during mating season). You’ve accepted the variety of them and grown used to his way of organizing by alphabetical order.

William scatters parts of him throughout the house like that, leaving a journal here or a ripped out article with a note there. It’s little bits and pieces he always knows where they’re at, at all times, and it’s not necessarily chaos as so much has him being contempt and marking this house as his own.

William doesn’t immediately invite you to one of his speeches. Even though Pope likes to make fun of him about how many times he’s held them by now, they are still very personal to him and he still takes each individual speech to heart.

His eyes flicker to you when he comes to the part about his ex-fiance and the incident at the supermarket. You knew that he had struggled after coming home from being deployed for that long, you’ve talked about it before but it is only now that you start to realize to what extend the war had changed him - and his mind. You sit stunned in the back of the room as he talks about his experiences, how it took him a while to realize that yes, he has been affected by the violence surrounding him day to day and that it changed him and his behavior. And that he needed help. He tried to tell you before, but had failed to convey into words what did happen in the aftermath of coming home. It was shame and guilt and you almost feel as if it’s easier for him to formulate his experiences now, in a room full of people who can relate on a fundamental level.

It takes a bit for you to find the right words afterwards and the ride home is fairly silent, but not in an uncomfortable way. He’s driving, one hand on the wheel, the other one secured in your lap, fingers intertwined and you hold it reassuringly. You’d never blame him for his instincts or for shame him for what he did, in fact you are stunned by the amount of willpower and strength he presents, both physically and mentally and it touches you immensely that he is willing to share those life changing thoughts with you.

Will is probably the safest (and also slowest) driver you’ve ever met. He isn’t necessarily going under the speed limit but he won’t ever go over it. He’ll keep his distance to other cars to a maximum, won’t let a pushy driver urge him to drive faster or won’t overtake a biker if he doesn’t feel there’s enough room for him to do so safely. He gets freaked out every time he has to share a car with Benny, who insists on driving since they have “places to go and if you drive we won’t make it in this lifetime!” and William arguing back, that with Benny driving they’ll probably get themselves killed going there.

Will is someone who is usually warm. He’s heating up your bed as soon as he gets under the covers and you usually scoot away at night, trying to escape the build up heat. He’s having none of that though, pulling you back to him in his sleep or rolling over and engulfing you in his massive, but sadly very hot and sweaty, arms. He’s likes to hold you at night to reassure you and himself, that both of you are safe, even though you end up a sweaty mess the next morning.

William needs his quiet and space. He already lives a bit outside the city, closer to nature, maybe even in the surrounded by trees instead of houses lined up next to one another and his own home, though small, has the perfect size for him. Most importantly, it features a little barn, where likes to keep his tools and equipment neatly stored and organized. (the drive up there always takes some time and his truck is always muddy)

He likes to fix things or takes them apart to understand how they work. Whenever there’s something that needs tending to around the house he will always try to fix it himself first and he’s usually successful. It’s his natural instincts of getting the bigger picture and it ties in with his multiple interest on just understanding.

He doesn’t like gardening, at all, but he still does it every now and again (“it’s just something you have to do when you own a house, okay?”) and you watch him amused from the window as he’s fighting with the lawn mower for half an hour before coming back in, a dirty ball of grump now, and announces that you two have to go to the garden center to get some new bushes because he killed the last ones just about now. With the lawn mower. Again.

Bonus: Watch this whenever you have a bad day https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rX40mBb8bkU&t=146s and be assured that William saw it as well and found it delightful!

Tags: @thefashionprofessor

#William Miller #william ironhead miller #william miller x reader #william miller imagine #william miller headcanons #william ironhead miller x reader #william ironhead miller imagine #headcanons #triple frontier #triple frontier headcanons

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chicgeekgirl89 · 5 years ago

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The Honeymooners: Chapter 1

A/N: Our favorite, MARRIED, couple is back on vacation again this year, this time on their honeymoon. But things aren’t going to go exactly according to plan because where’s the fun in that?!

Read my other Densi summer vacation fics here and here.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Peru here we come!” Kensi said as the plane took off. She squeezed Deeks’ hand. “I’m so excited!”

“A little delayed, but definitely worth the wait,” Deeks said.

After months of agonizing they’d finally pulled the trigger on a belated honeymoon to Peru; a total minimal, adventurous trip. They’d each packed a backpack and boarded a flight to Miami. Once there they would connect to Lima and join up with a humanitarian aid group for five days. Then it was five days all to themselves exploring the country as they pleased.

Kensi pulled up one of the Instagram accounts she’d started following in preparation for the trip. “Just look at this hiking excursion. These views are going to be incredible.”

“Not as incredible as the one I have right now,” Deeks said.

“Aw, baby.” She’d always scoffed at people who mooned over each other after their wedding but she had to admit, this silly newlywed thing was kind of fun.

“I’m really looking forward to some deep fried guinea pig,” Deeks said.

“You’re really going to eat a guinea pig? Even with its cute little face?” He’d been talking about it ever since he’d found out about the local delicacy and she was pretty disgusted.

“Absolutely! When in Lima…”

“That is so gross.”

“What? A nice little guinea pig sandwich? Sounds delicious.”

“It’s like eating a rat!”

“You just said it had a cute face! How can you say it’s cute and then call it a rat?”

“I’m not kissing you while you have guinea pig breath.”

That paused him for a second. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah you better.”

“Aw, newlyweds?” A flight attendant paused their seats, her smile bright.

Kensi slipped her arm through Deeks’. “Yes. We’re on our belated honeymoon to Peru.”

“To Peru! What an exciting choice!”

“Well we’re the adventurous type,” Deeks told her. “Have you been?”

She nodded. “It’s beautiful. Definitely worth all the hiking.”

“And how exactly are the guinea pig burgers?”

She shook her head. “Not to my liking. I can’t offer you one of those, but how about a complimentary glass of champagne to celebrate?”

“That sounds perfect.”

She gave them each a glass and then continued down the aisle.

The extra seat in their row was empty, leaving them plenty of room to cuddle and watch the latest Marvel movie. The champagne made Kensi sleepy and she dozed off on Deeks’ shoulder towards the end of the movie. When she woke up he was watching a romcom they’d missed at the theater last year because of a case.

“How long was I out?” she asked pushing her hair out of her face.

He checked his watch. “Couple hours. We’re over Florida.”

She wiped her mouth and wrinkled her nose. “Was I drooling?!”

He smiled. “A little.”

She punched his shoulder. “Why didn’t you wake me up?!”

“It was cute.” He shrugged. “You were tired. You need some sleep before we go hike the mountains all day and,” he grinned, “party all night.”

“You wanted me to get some rest so I could have sex with you all night long? In our tent? After not showering all day?” She raised her eyebrows.

“…yes?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me right?”

“I’m reconsidering.”

He held up his left hand. “Nuh uh. You’re stuck with me Fern. Are you seriously telling me we’re not having any sex on our honeymoon? Isn’t that the whole point of a honeymoon? To make babies?”

“Who’s making babies?!” Kensi asked, looking around.

“I’m kidding. But seriously. No sex?”

“Nope. Not happening. Not unless I’ve showered. And you’ve brushed the guinea pig out of your teeth.”

“Well I wish I’d known that ahead of time,” he grumbled. “I would have made more of an effort last night.”

He looked so cute sitting there all forlorn. They hadn’t had much time together alone in the last few weeks. And last night they’d gotten home late after work practically dead on their feet. Things hadn’t been super romantic lately. In fact she could hardly remember the last time they’d had a moment alone together. Ten days in a tent suddenly seemed like a really long time.

“Well,” she traced a pattern on the back of his hand with her fingers, keeping her voice low, “we’re not in Peru yet.”

He frowned. “Yeah because we’re on a plane.”

“There are ways to…get around that.” He still looked confused so she leaned close and whispered. “We could always join the mile high club.”

His eyes grew huge. “Babe…don’t say things like that unless you mean them.”

She bit her lip and reached for her seatbelt.

The plane dropped. People screamed. Overhead bins opened and people’s bags crashed to the floor. For one, heart stopping moment it felt like the world was ending. Kensi grabbed Deeks’ hand and he squeezed it tightly, using the other to grip his armrest.

The plane leveled out and they could hear passengers around them crying in confusion and pain. The intercom made a dinging sound as it turned on. “Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain. We are having difficulty with our onboard computer and will need to make an emergency landing in Jacksonville at this time. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened,” the captain said.

“You good?” Deeks asked, all thoughts of airplane sex gone from his mind.

Kensi nodded, her heart still racing. “I’m going to go see if anyone needs help,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I’ll come with you,” she said.

They both ignored the pilot’s warning and got out of their seats. People seemed to be in pretty good shape, a little shaken but mostly unharmed. One older woman was hyperventilating so Kensi knelt next to her while Deeks continued through the cabin.

“Oh my god! Cherise! Cherise wake up!”

Deeks hurried toward the worried cries and found one of the flight attendants bent over a body on the floor. A closer look told him it the was the attendant who’d brought them their champagne and she was knocked out cold, blood running down her face. “Hey, I’m an officer with the LAPD,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Monica,” the woman said, her voice shaky. “She must have gotten hit when the overhead bins opened up.”

“All right, listen, go make an announcement and find out if we have any medical professionals on board. And then find the first aid kit.”

She nodded and hurried away. “Here.” Deeks looked up to find a teenage girl handing him a scarf. “You’re supposed to put pressure on it right?”

He smiled. “Nice job MacGyver. Thanks.”

He wrapped the make-shift bandage around Cherise’s head and reached to take her pulse. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Kensi knelt next to him. “Hey what do you need?” she asked.

“The flight attendant went to get the first aid kit. Just keep her head steady for me.”

Cherise’s pulse was fast but steady. “Cherise,” Deeks ran a fist over her sternum. “Cherise can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Hey don’t try to move all right?” Deeks said, glancing up at Kensi who tightened her grip. They couldn’t rule out a neck injury and if she panicked and started moving it might make things worse.

“What---what happened?” Cherise asked, a hand fluttering toward her head.

“There was some turbulence and you were hit by some luggage,” Deeks said slowly and calmly. “Your friend Monica went to get the first aid kit.”

“Okay.” She grimaced. “My head hurts.”

“Yeah I’m not surprised. You’re doing great though. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Uh, um, I’m on flight 2042 to Lima.”

“Nice. And who’s the president?”

She looked at him in confusion. “Of Lima?”

“No, no,” he laughed. “Sorry, of the United States.”

She gave him a withering look. “I don’t talk about him.”

“Correct answer then,” Deeks said.

Monica returned with the first aid kit and another man in tow. “I’m a doctor,” he said, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. “Don Feldstein.”

“Marty Deeks, LAPD. This is my wife Kensi,” Deeks said.

“Good to meet you. How are we doing here?”

The doctor checked out their patient and since they were no longer needed Kensi and Deeks returned to their seats.

“Hopefully she’ll only need some stitches,” Kensi said.

“Hopefully. And hopefully we can get off this plane and make some new travel arrangements.”

“I mean would it even be a vacation if something didn’t go horribly wrong?”

“This is it. This is the only complication. Everything else is going to be smooth sailing,” Deeks said.

Kensi sent him a look. “Do you really believe that?”

“Just…put out the good universe vibes with me all right?” He hesitated.

“What?” she asked.

“Were you really going to wait for me in the bathroom?”

“Seriously? That’s what you’re asking about after we almost just died?”

“That was barely a near-death experience. We’ve had Tuesdays scarier than that!” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who suggested it,” he said.

“Well I guess you’re just going to have to wait until after your guinea pig sandwiches now because I’m definitely not in the mood.”

They both sat back in their seats. Suddenly this honeymoon seemed a little less romantic and a whole lot more like work.

#NCIS LA #Densi #Densi Summer Vacation #The Honeymooners #Chapter 1 #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Till Death Do Us Part #Densi Fanfic #Kensi Blye Fanfic #Marty Deeks Fanfic #Honeymoon Fic #Peru #Why do I have to make my own line breaks Tumblr?

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