#Now I’m thinking of using adams family gifs for each of the voices-

[shinynewboots]

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 1

Prompt/Summary: She’s Charlie’s older sister and when Charlie first has a meeting with Adam and Lute he couldn’t stop staring at her! To him she was like a goddess her beauty, her voice! Almost everything to him was beautiful. But she gets pissed off when he doesn’t take them serious not in his meeting room in hell or in heaven.

But he bribes the older Morningstar that he will stop the extermination and would talk to the higher ups and try to convince them about Charlie’s idea if only she agrees to be his (as in marriage).

She was considering it, ( Lucifer and Alastor were definitely against it), everyone in the hotel were also asking her to reconsider this plan. (But at the end she says yes).

Also if u can… like add a part where he betrays her at the end and does the extermination but before Nifty stabs him she’s there to save him.

For @jennieyeager Your request darling that I accidentally took forever to write! I have loved writing this prompt so far and I hope you enjoy it at as well! I intend on it being a 4 part series so please stay tuned!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language

Part 2

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Charlie asked, practically radiating excitement. You looked up at your little sister (who had been the sibling to inherit your mother’s height) and sighed. You were not particularly optimistic about Charlie’s meeting with heaven (hell, you weren’t optimistic about anything, you left that mostly to Charlie), but you didn’t want to rain on her parade.

Besides, Dad had asked you both to represent him at the meeting with Heaven. And there was no way you were going to let Charlie face the wolves alone.

“I’m coming,” You replied. “But I think we need to tone down the singing in your presentation. You remember how well that went over with Katie Killjoy.”

Charlie smiled awkwardly, her permanently flushed cheeks growing even redder at the reminder. She reminded you a lot of Dad at this moment. Full of dreams and hopes for a better future. You wanted to believe in a better future. You did. But all your hopes had been smashed when Mom had gone off the grid without even a single phone call and Dad holed himself up in the castle.

However, you did believe in Charlie. She had always been the best of your family. And if Charlie wanted to use this meeting with Heaven to try and convince them to cease the yearly Exterminations, you would be right there at her side.

You and Charlie stood outside of the Embassy, both hesitant to open the door. Neither of you had ever gone inside before as your parents had you avoid the building like the plague growing up. And now the building seemed daunting and out of place with its glow of angelic light. You and Charlie looked at each other and pushed on the door together.

The foyer of the Embassy was empty and dark. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but this certainly wasn’t it. Rows of sofas made a path to a desk and set of elevators that stood at the other end of the room.

“Hello!” Charlie called, her voice echoing through the room. No response.

“Creepy,” Charlie said. You nodded in agreement, taking in the embassy. It smelled old and unused. Almost like moth balls. You both walked slowly to the desk where Charlie rang the bell. A flash of blinding light revealed a golden document with the words “sign here”. You both shared a glance before signing the document. The document disappeared as soon as it was signed and a glowing light appeared from one of the elevators.

You both walked towards the elevator and ascended to the top floor. Rock music played in the background as it made its slow journey. You looked over at Charlie. “You’re going to do great. And I’ll be right here by your side through the whole thing.”

Charlie beamed at you, her face bright. She pulled you into a fierce hug “I really appreciate you, Y/N.”

The elevator stopped abruptly and you broke the hug. “Now or never.”

You and Charlie walked out of the elevator and were met with a pair of open double doors, beckoning you to step inside.

“Anyone here?”

Charlie walked through the doors first.

“Hello!” She called out, you following behind her. Light began to emit from the room through the doors and you hurried to catch up with her.

“Sup.” You hear a voice call out. Your eyebrows furrow. Why was Charlie so fast? How dare you inherit your father’s height.

“Holy shit!” Charlie calls out. You finally make it to her to see to angels at the other end of the table. The one sitting wore a black exorcist mask with gold trimmings along with purple and white robes. The angel standing wore an traditional exorcist mask complete with the gray armor.

You stand behind Charlie, nervous but letting her do her thing. She was so much more jovial and charismatic than you were. You knew she would win heaven over.

“Um, hi! I’m Charlie! My dad asked me if could meet you.” Charlie said, a grin on her features. She reached out her hand for the angel to shake.

“Yeah I know.” The angel responded. He looked uninterested in the conversation. In anything. Fucking angels. He looked down at his nails and seemed bored.

“And this is my sister, Y/N!” Charlie said, moving aside so the angels could see you clearly. The lead angel glanced up and suddenly you could see the eyes of his mask fill with interest.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, throwing the two angels a wave. The exorcist scowled back. The lead angel looked at her with curious eyes (could a mask be curious?).

There was an awkward silence as no one spoke. You and Charlie glanced back and forth until Charlie decided there was no time to waste. She fumbled in her pockets for her schematics of her plan (maybe crayon wasn't the best option but there had been no arguing with Charlie).

“Well um I guess we can go ahead and get this meeting started. So we all know Hell’s biggest problem right?” Charlie asked, holding up the crayon drawing of exorcists raining from the sky on extermination day. She glanced over at you nervously. You tried to give her an encouraging smile.

At this, the lead angel stood and walked towards you and Charlie.

He doesn't look at Charlie and instead his attention is solely on you. He looks you up and down and you suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Hey, my sister’s trying to speak to you.” You said, meeting the angel’s gaze.

The angel looked back and forth between the two of you before sighing. “Fine, let’s getting on with it.”

“Uh thank you,” Charlie stammered, trying to collect herself. “So again as well all know Hell’s biggest problem is it's overpopulation and subsequent exterminations. I have a plan to redeem sinners through a program at the hotel I recently opened!”

Charlie was actively shoving the crayon drawings into the angel’s face. He rolled his eyes. He barely gave Charlie a glance however, and kept most of his attention on you.

“Listen, let me stop you right there sweetie. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

You saw red. Who did this motherfucker think he was? Charlie looked visibly defeated but tried to collect her presentation.

“But they're human souls.”

“Human souls that made a choice,” The exorcist angel said, walking up behind the lead angel.

“But-” Charlie started but was cut off by the lead angel.

“And there's no fucking way in heaven or hell that anyone would choose to stop the exterminations. Not only does it control the disgusting sinner population but it's so fucking fun to come down here and kill demon ass.”

You could feel your demon form starting to bubble to the surface. Horns began to sprout from your head and you knew your eyes had taken on a reddish hue. You glanced at Charlie who was in full demon form, her face red and full of anger.

“This isn’t fair. What makes you or anyone else in heaven any better than these souls?” Charlie exclaimed, her voice taking on a deeper, more sinister tone than you were used to hearing.

“Woah, settle down sweetheart. Chill out. They’re just sinners.”

“They're our people,” You replied, glaring at the fucking arrogant lead angel. Fuck, you wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

“And that must fucking suck for you guys,” The angel answered, laughing. He had grown in height, his golden wings unfurling around them. You hated to admit it but they were magnificent to look at. Smug asshole.

“Anyways, the real reason we’re here is because the angelic council has made the executive decision to move up the next extermination.”

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, sweetheart, that we will be back in six months.”

“You can’t do that!” You argued. The lead angel looked at you with a grin on his masked features. He pulled out a guitar (where in the fuck did he get a guitar) and strummed a cord.

“I think this meeting is over,” He said, the sound wave of the guitar creating a force strong enough to push you and Charlie out of the meeting room and out the double doors. The doors slammed close and you both landed on the floor with a thump.

“No, no, no!” Charlie cried out, her eyes brimming with tears. You had to do something. Anything! This was Charlie’s dream and you weren't about to let some asshole angel with a god complex stop her. You jumped to your feet and pushed against the doors with all your might.

The doors opened (shockingly easy considering how loud they had slammed closed just seconds earlier) and you rushed into the room.

“Who in the actual fuck do you think you are to just ignore my sister like that? And to move up the extermination? Who in the actual fuck do you think you are?” You yelled as you entered the room. The double doors behind you closed with a bang, leaving Charlie out in the hallway alone. The lead angel gave you a long look and stood from the table. His hands moved to his mask and he pulled it off of his head.

You hated to admit it, but he was very handsome. His hair was light brown and messy in a boyish way. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though it had been a few millennia since had a slept. But what really got you were his eyes. They were a gold color that you had never before seen on another person.

“I’m Adam.” He said, a smirk crossing his features.

“Like, like the first man?” You asked weakly.

“The fucking same,” He grinned and began to walk towards you.

“That explains so much.” You whispered to yourself.

“Pretty awesome, right?”

You scowled. “No it's not ‘pretty awesome’, it's fucking rude of you to not even give my sister a chance and to be just a total fucking dickwad.”

“Because I don’t think your sister's idea is a good one. I mean, redemption for sinners? There’s a reason they ended up in this godforsaken place in the first place. And dickwad? Real original, sweetheart.”

Emboldened and full of anger you marched up to Adam and pointed a finger at his chest. You did not, however, anticipate that he was a hologram and so you fell right through.

“Falling for me already, sweetheart?” Adam’s hologram laughed, turning to the exorcist angel and giving a fist bump. You felt a blush rush to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

Adam shrugged. “I might have an idea that benefits both of us. It would require a little effort on your part though.”

“You mean stopping the exterminations?” You ask warily. “And redeeming sinners?”

“You know that's a very heavy ask sweetheart, but yeah. I can talk to the higher-ups about it and see what I can do. Just in exchange for one thing.”

One thing standing between you and helping Charlie achieve her dream. Someone could have pinched you, this was like a dream come true. Charlie had always been the ray of sunshine and full of hope and optimism and dreams. You would give anything for that to come true!

“What is it?”

“You.”

“Uh, what?” You asked, not sure you heard him clearly.

“You. I want you. Come to Heaven with me and be my wife.”

Your mind automatically went the worst (oh my satan did he want you as a sex slave?). Your mouth had run dry and you felt your palms grow sweaty. Why would Adam, the first man, want you as a wife. Oh my satan, wouldn't that be weird because he technically was married to your mom. This was so wrong on so many levels. And he was such an asshole.

“You want me as some weird sex slave?” You questioned, looking warily at Adam.

“Ew fucking no, that's disgusting. No, nothing sexual unless you ask,” Adam said. “Which, you know, you probably will.”

Adam winked at you. Fucking pig.

“Why me?” You were never picked first for, well, anything. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you their first choice. It had always been Charlie due to her charismatic nature and people pleasing tendencies.

Adam blinked and looked you up and down. “You’re beautiful. Hot as hell, no pun intended. And you're loyal. Doing anything to help your sister accomplish her pathetic dream? That takes guts and I respect it.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Could you do this? Marry this strange man who played a villain in your bedtime stories as a child. He was a pig but if he made it to heaven, maybe he wasn't all bad.

“Can I take some time to think about it?” You asked weakly.

“You’ve got 24 hours,” Adam said, snapping his finger to make a digital countdown watch appear on your wrist. 23:59, 23:58, 23:57…

“You can meet me back here when you've made a decision.” He said, smirking at you. Suddenly, his form appeared more real and you realized he had somehow materialized in front of and was no longer a hologram. His large hands grabbed your face and forced you to stare into his golden eyes.

You suddenly felt his lips crash into your own. His lips were soft and tasted like a cherry hard candy. One of his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair and you couldn't help but moan as his tongue lightly flicked at your lips, leaving shivers down your spine. Your tongue wrestled with his own and you felt so lightheaded.

You had been kissed before but never like this. Suddenly his many millennia of living seemed to be paying off in his favor.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and you pulled away, a blush coming to your cheeks as you realized the exorcist angel had been present.

“Yeah, yeah Lute I know. I’m leaving.” Adam pulled his hands from your face and smirked at you.

“24 hours, sweetheart. I hope to see you here.”

And with that, Adam and Lute disappeared in a cloud of light and smoke leaving you alone in the board room. The double doors opened and Charlie rushed in, pulling you into a big hug and was frantically asking what happened. You couldn't make anything out that she was saying, however. All you could focus on was the way your lips tingled and began to swell from the ghost of his touch.

You were totally fucked.

[letsgetrowdy43]

what about adam begging hughes!sister to come with him to wherever (hopefully anaheim) but she’s skeptical bc she doesn’t want to be a burden but he assures her that he wants nothing more than for her to be with him:)

You’re gonna go far—

Au Masterlist!!

Adam and Sunny had tearfully parted ways after the draft, she was heading back to Michigan to resume her summer vacation with her brothers and family friends while he and his father flew out to Columbus for their development camp.

"I'm gonna miss you" she mumbled into his chest, tears staining his cotton shirt as she hugged him tightly, for the last time in a while. He placed a kiss on the crown of her head, "it'll only be for a few weeks and then I’ll be there, with Luca, for the rest of the summer" She shook her head as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips, “still too long.”

A smile now worked its way onto her lips as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, “you and Gavo can’t have too much fun without me” “Won't be half the fun without you” he mumbled as he placed a kiss on the side of her head, his eyes looking up to see Ellen and Julia crying as they whispered to each other about the young couple.

Sunny pulled away first, "I'm gonna kiss you one more time then I'm gonna go and check-in, cause if I stay any longer Mom is gonna have to pry me off of you" She smiled, his thumb wiped the remainder of tears from her cheek as she cupped his face in her hands. His forehead bumped into hers, "love you" he whispered as he kissed her gently for the last time in a while. "I love you so much," she whispered as she pulled away from him.

ꕥꕥꕥ

Two days later Sunny was finally back in the warmth of her brother's summer house, feeling slightly down as she returned to her life without Adam. With her nose in a book to pass the time, Quinn walked into the room with a soft smile, sitting down next to her as she marked her page and cuddled into his side.

"I think it's over for us," she whispered as Quinn opened his mouth to ask her what was bothering her, "I think he's gonna do great things in Ohio and I'm gonna be a burden back in Michigan," Quinn closed his mouth and hugged her tightly. "I think that you mean a lot to him, and yeah you two are on different paths now, but I think that in the near future, you two will be exactly right where you were meant to be”

The girl smiled softly as her brother hugged her tightly, “when did you get so insightful?” “It comes with old age” he joked, placing a kiss on the top of her head before stealing the remote from beside her.

ꕥꕥꕥ

Her phone buzzed as a voicemail from Adam popped up on her screen, and her brows furrowed as she realized just how zoned out of reality she was.

“Hey sun, I just wanted to call and tell you that I’ve talked with everyone here and I think I’m gonna start my rookie year in September,” she can hear the excitement mixed with sadness in his voice as he lets out a deep breath, “I know it’s not what I planned, but they really want me here, and I think I’m ready” He paused for a second as he thought of his next words, “Call me back when you get this message, I love you”

Her heart dropped to her stomach as he ended the message, immediately dialling his number to call him. Her emotions were running high as the phone began to ring in her ears, “hello?” stopped her pacing around her room the moment he spoke.

“I'm so proud of you,” she spits out as soon as she hears his voice. “So it’s okay with you?” He asks genuinely as he stops pacing around his room and takes a seat on his hotel bed. “More than okay, you worked so hard for all of it”

A moment of silence hit them both.

“What does this mean for us?” She asked quietly, her eyes beginning to water as she heard nothing but silence on the other end. It was the million-dollar question, they both wanted to know where they now sat. She felt secure enough in her love for Adam that she would do long distance for the next three years, but was Adam on that level?

“I don’t want to hold you back, so if you want to call it quits now I understand, I just want what’s best for you” she whispered, begging for some sort of response. “I don’t want us to end sunny,” his brows furrowed as he laid back on his bed, hands massaging his temples as he fought off the stress headache that he’d been harbouring all day, “I want you, I want this.” Sunny nodded even though he couldn’t see her, “if you’d have me, I’d want you here for all of it.”

“In Columbus?” “In Columbus." he paused to let that sink in for a second, really contemplating if he wanted to add this new pressure onto her shoulders, "I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but maybe after UMich you’d consider moving here with me?” his voice laced with nerves, “you don’t have to say yes now, but just think about it for me.” “Wherever you want me, I’ll be there” she whispered as his face broke out into a grin.

He ran a hand through his hair, “So if I asked you to fly out here to be a witness while I sign my ELC you’ll be here?” Her face warmed as, “in a heartbeat” She bit her lip to hold back her smile as she opened her laptop to find flights for the morning

-

-

-

This took me literally three days to write cause I've been so busy, but here.

This is also slightly fueled by the song "You're Gonna Go Far" by Noah Kahan, cause a friend recently told me that this song reminds them of me and now it's the only song I can listen to :)

[coleskingdom]

A Grand Adventure

Adam Page x F reader

Same era as Debut

The encouragement from @madhatterbri and @midwestmade29 wrote part 2

As the night came to an end, the smile on my face as I entered the carriage with my mother and father nearly gave away my secret. My mother said that Mr. Cole had been quite taken with me as well as the eldest Jackson brother. She suggested meeting with both families at a lunch. I looked out the carriage window nodding my head absently and noncommittally. Upon returning home, my grandmother was waiting in my bedroom with a tea tray. “So….tell me, did the handsome Mr.Page ask you to dance. ?” She asked impatiently. “Yes, and he dances divinely.” I said wistfully. “ is there any substance to the man or is he just a pretty face? “ she asked solemnly “ I enjoyed his company immensely he was interested in . I don’t think mother saw us together but I fear father may have.” I said sipping the tea that she poured . “ I’ll handle your father and remind him that you’re a smart young woman who deserves to be happy. Marriage is hard, you need to have a connection or you’ll be miserable. Did Mr. Page say he would call upon you?” She asked softly “ Yes, but Adam didn’t say when.” I replied “ Get some sleep dear, I’ll handle your father who will handle your mother.” As she squeezed my hand before exiting the room.

My father and grandmother met with Adam when he came to call the following day. I was grateful my mother was at the sewing club when he arrived. My grandmother was charmed by him and was won over quickly by him. I’m sure the bottle of French perfume and fresh flowers he brought helped. My father heard Adam’s explanation as to his disownment. Having known the elder Page he wasn’t surprised that they had butt heads and admired Adams ability to build a life of his own. “ My daughter is quite the handful, she’s been spoiled by me and her grandmother. I treated her both as my daughter and as my only child my son as well. She can shoot, ride horses both European and Side Saddle I’ve been quite liberal in letting her explore her interests, she reads the same books I read at West Point, she reads the newspapers and has her own views and opinions” my father said proudly looking at me. “ If you’re looking for a docile woman as your betrothed I’d ask you to reconsider. “ he said stoically. “ Sir, ma’am , it is my intention in life to find my like. I mean to find someone to not just share my life with, but to enjoy life with.” Adam said matter of factly as possible. He did not waiver under my father’s intense gaze. “Well then, it will be daughter’s decision as to if and whom she is to marry. Son, you have my permission to court her, should she be open to it.” My father and grandmother each left the room. My grandmother winking as she exited. “ Your grandmother is quite the woman, I see where your fire comes from.” Adam said laughing. His warm rich laugh filled the room. “Your father is quite proud of you as well. I don’t know that I’ve ever met a woman whose father brought up her shooting and horsewoman ship so casually. I don’t know if that was meant to be comforting or a warning.” This time I laughed “ knowing father it was probably a bit of both.” I said putting my hand to my mouth. “ I could listen to that sound forever.” He said “ What?” I asked “ Your laugh, now that I’ve heard it, I want to hear more of it.” he said.

I heard the front door open and my mother’s voice when she entered the parlor. “Why is he here?” As she pointed accusingly at Adam. “ I forbade you from evening speaking to him, and now he’s here in our home. Does your father know?” Her voice angrier by the moment . “ I best leave” Adam said softly “ Ma’am I never meant to upset you. For that I am truly sorry.” his voice calm . I had enough of my mother “ Mother, calm down, Father gave Adam permission to court me, after speaking with him and grandmother. In fact he told me that it’s my choice who I marry, if I should so choose to. “ My voice firm and unwavering.

“What’s all this commotion?” My father stepping into the foyer “ Dear what is wrong?” he asked my mother unsure as to why she was so angry. “ Your daughter, and that scoundrel, she said you gave her permission to be courted by him.” Her fury still rising.

“ I did, he met with mother and I. I think that they’d be a good match after the conversation and mother agrees. I understand that you had hopes of a Jackson or a Cole family engagement. However, that’s a social marriage. I’m thinking of our daughter’s happiness, neither Cole nor the eldest Jackson would know what to do with our daughter.” He said calmly.

“ I won’t have it.” She said spitefully. “If this is her choice she will be cut off. She will be disowned and disinherited.” her voice pure malice.

My grandmother had now heard enough I hadn’t realized she was behind me. “ Now listen here, I’m the matriarch of this family, it’s his side of the family that brought wealth into this household. Your bitter ugliness is showing, I’ve seen it for years. You wanted a different life, you wanted a different husband, my son has been good and faithful to you. You shouldn’t saddle your daughter with your coldness and resentment. Upon her wedding day I have a trust set up for that I am in sole control of till then It is not a dowry but simply money that she can choose how her life shall be. Your threats are hollow, she will always be part of this family.Do you have any further comment or can these two resume their day. I believe they were headed for a carriage ride and a picnic.” She said handing me a basket she had put together. My mother stormed up stairs and knowing the battle was over slammed her door.

“Son, I’m sorry you had to witness my wife’s theatrics.” My father said opening the front door, “ My mother packed you both a picnic, please try to enjoy the rest of the day.” Encouraging both of us out the door. “ Yes sir, I’ll have her back at a respectable time. “ Adam said My father kissed my cheek “ I’m trusting you with my world “ looking Adam in the eye and Adam nodded knowingly.

Adam helped me into the carriage. “ I understand if that was too much .” I said softly not blaming him one bit if he turned and ran from this situation. “Darlin, if you think that’s the first family argument I’ve seen, then you’d be wrong. Have I mentioned how much I like your grandmother.” He laughed as he drove us down the road. We chatted about books and poetry, the desire to travel to Europe and Egypt. He told me of how French New Orleans was, how California might as well be a world away. He pulled off by the river, where the shade of the live oak trees and the breeze off the river seemed the perfect place to picnic. Grandmother had packed fried chicken, potatoes and fruit pies as well as lemonade. We ate and chatted. Adam said it was the best meal he’d had in ages. I told him I knew my grandmother’s recipes and that I had been under her hand the entire time. “If you could have anything in this world , what would you ask for?” I asked him, leaning back on the tree. “A kiss from you” the grin on his face undeniable. “Seriously, out of everything in this world” as I turned my face he kissed me gently. His forehead rested on mine. I blushed as he was my first kiss. “Darlin, if you could have anything in this world what would you ask for?” He asked “A kiss from you” I said softly, he kissed me again. “ I want to do that for my the rest of my life” he said, “ You do?” I asked shyly. “ I want to make laugh, smile and hear every thought that passes through your head.” the tenderness in his voice breathtaking. “What are you saying?” I asked searching his eyes, “ I knew from the moment that my hand touched yours,that we were meant to be. It was as if I had known you forever. I’d like to ask you father for your hand in marriage unless you’re opposed.” his voice a soothing caress. “ Adam, you’re sure, because my father will give you his blessing, and I don’t need a long courtship. I want you to be sure, because I know that you’d make me happy. Being with you is as natural as breathing. I’d do everything to make you happy. “ I said my voice conveying the hope and happiness I felt in his presence. “ I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He said kissing me again. “ Let me get you home, so I can speak to your father.” he said as we picked up our picnic.

Adam asked my father for my hand in marriage. My father and grandmother were pleased with my choice of husband. My grandmother sat me down the morning of my wedding to bestow her final words of wisdom.

“ Love him, love him fiercely, love him recklessly, love him as you love yourself. Don’t be afraid, my sweet granddaughter, life is going to be a grand adventure. I’m so proud of you for choosing love. Tomorrow before you depart, the bank will have a letter of credit for you, and give you access to your trust. Darling girl, I fear what is ahead, the rumblings are loud and getting louder everyday. I have arranged with Adam’s blessing for you both to do the grand tour. Stay away as long as you can, write to me often, do not let some fool sense of loyalty put either of you in a peril. If this is the last time I see you, I will know you are happy, in love and safe. I want you to know you’ve been my greatest gift, and that I will always be here no matter what. I love you.” Her voice weakened as emotion took over.

My mother refused to attend my wedding claiming that she was ill. My father and grandmother handed me to Adam at the altar. My father and Adam, had a deep understanding of each other and my father traditionally stoic not only shook his hand but hugged him. My father hugged me and told me, he loved me and that he was proud of me. Adam and I said our vows as he kissed me politely he smiled. “ This is just the beginning “ he said as we turned and walked back up the aisle.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Anthony Bridgerton and Christmas (headcanons)

A/N: The final of my Christmas headcanons for the Bridgertons! Wishing you all a very merry Christmas, a wonderful festive period, a prosperous new year and some absolutely wonderful days ahead. I’m sending you all my love and best wishes. Be safe, and if you cannot be safe, be careful.

warnings: christmas inspired, holiday season, Yule log, fires, fluff, happiness

A tradition he treasures, and one he wants to share with you.

The Yule log, to Anthony, was one of the most important parts of the festive season. it was the centrepiece of the family christmas; keeping them all warm through the winter. 

A specially selected log to be burnt on a hearth; Anthony had you up at an earlier hour that you were used to so you could wander into the woods that bordered Aubrey Hall - the Bridgerton’s ancestral home.

Anthony knew the tree he was looking for; an ash tree. It would be the very same tree his father had taken him to, looking for a Yule log for his young family.

After his father’s death, the tradition was abandoned, the memory of Edmund Bridgerton too painful for his eldest son to continue his most favourite tradition.

However, Anthony now wanted to resurrect the tradition with you.

Which was why you were both trampling through the woods, early in the morning, looking for the tree that Anthony needed.

“It’s around here somewhere,” Anthony reassures, smiling at you.

“I don’t doubt it.”

It took longer than Anthony would have liked, but the tree is found and he shouts victoriously at the sight of it. He turns to you; eyes bright with excitement as he readies the axe he had brought with him.

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” You ask; your voice giving away the worry that had settled deep within your gut at the sight of your husband with an axe.

Anthony huffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Of course, my love. I’ve done this before.”

You remain silent as you watch Anthony chop away at the ash tree; relief washing over you when the deed is done and Anthony walks away with no injuries and a log in hand.

A proud, satisfied smile settles on Anthony’s face as he makes his way back to you. “Shall we head home?” He asks, holding an arm out for you.

—————————————

The log needed to be dried before it could be burnt. Anthony was adamant on doing it all correctly.

It’s well into the night before the log is ready. Anthony readies the fire; pride coming off him in waves as he readies the hearth.

The flames of the log heat the room. You join Anthony by the fire; his hands pull you to him, settling you against his chest as you both watch the flames. Peace settles over the both of you; Anthony’s breathing close to lulling you to sleep.

“We have another tradition,” Anthony all but whispers. He pulls out two candles from a nearby draw. “We light the candles using the fire from the Yule log and make a wish. The wishes must be kept a secret or they won’t come true.”

Silently, you take the candle from your husband, holding it carefully over the flickering orange flames from the Yule log, letting the wick catch before pulling away. You glance at your husband before making your wish - wishing him eternal happiness, wishing him peace and love. There wasn’t another person on the earth that you adored more than the man sat beside you. He would be in all your wishes, for he was your wish.

Keeping a steady hold on your burning candle, you pull Anthony in for a sweet kiss. “It’s your turn, my darling,” You whisper as you pull away, leaving him momentarily to put your candle in a nearby candelabra.

Anthony waits for you to rejoin him before he makes his wish. He thinks not his father who died too soon; he thinks of his mother who never really recovered from the shock; he thinks of his youngest siblings who did not have the same memories of their complete family as he did. Finally, he thinks of you - he thinks of the love he has for you, so entirely encompassing. Anthony thinks of how you accept him; loving each part of him despite his flaws and follies. Anthony thinks of how you took this tradition in your stride; taking part in every moment.

Anthony’s wish comes to him suddenly - to freeze this moment, where it is for as long as he can.

The tradition had been rebirthed, and with it, Anthony’s love for it.

[writtenfangirl]

Stormy Christmases Together

I'm an F1 girly, yes, I am.

Charles Leclerc Fic. 2640 words.

I don't normally feel comfortable writing about real people but I've had this idea for a while now and Charles was the only person I could imagine writing this.

I know that the holidays are a generally good time for a most parties involved but there are some who find the holidays to be a pain in the ass so I wrote this for them.

It was clear that Y/N was upset about something.  One look at her and Charles instinctively knew what was upsetting her.

She was being unusually quiet, her eyes unfocused as her body went through the motions of washing the dishes. Her hands were moving slowly as she used the scrub, running it through the grime and dirt of an unusually tough pan. Usually, when Y/N did the dishes, she moved quickly, if only because she hated doing them in the first place. But tonight, her slow movements told Charles that her mind is elsewhere rather than on the task at hand.

“Y/N.”

She didn’t so much as move. Her hands continued through the unhurried motions, her eyes unfocused, her mind a million miles away. 

She didn’t even seem to notice that Charles was home. Even with her back turned to him, Y/N was almost always aware whenever someone else was in the house. She would have yelled out a quick “I’m in here!” to signify to Charles where she was in their small house if she was home and she would have likely dropped washing the dishes to ask Charles if he could do them since she hated the task so much.

But instead, she continued cleaning, the pan she had been scrubbing for the past five minutes gleaming from how clean it was.

“Y/N.” Charles’s voice was louder this time and that was enough to startle Y/N out of her reverie. She dropped the pan with a yelp, the cookware clattering amongst the dishes, her eyes wide in surprised as she spun around. 

“Charles!” She exclaimed, almost clutching her chest with her soapy hands before realizing. “You scared me! I didn’t realize you were already home.”

“I’ve been home for the past fifteen minutes,” Charles said, planting a soft kiss on Y/N’s cheek before he took Y/N’s hands and rinsed them off. “You okay, ma belle?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a shaky breath as she wiped her hands and Charles took over the menial task of cleaning the dishes.

Their shared apartment was cold, the winter air seeming to permeate through the walls despite the warm fire roaring in the living room. Winters in Monaco weren’t particularly brutal in comparison to other countries but the 8º weather was freezing and the water in the sink was cold. Christmas was only a few days away and though Y/N and Charles usually enjoyed the holidays because of the time they get to spend with each other, Y/N always got tense whenever she had to host family dinner with her parents.

The dinners Y/N cooked for her family every Christmas were always family recipes handed down through generations of Y/L/Ns, recipes Charles only got to taste during the holidays. Despite how often Charles begged for the scrumptious food the rest of the year whenever they spent any time together, Y/N was adamant she only cooked them during the holidays. The smell that wafted all throughout their home had Charles’s mouth watering in anticipation. He’d been looking forward to this dinner all month, even if he got tense around Y/N’s family too. Y/N’s cooking more than made up for the snide remarks and little snips that was inevitable when it came to dealing with the Y/L/Ns.

“Everything smells good,” Charles said with a reassuring smile.

“Really?” Y/N said, perking up slightly at the compliment.

“Really.”

“You don’t think she’ll micromanage this year, right?” She bit her lip, a nervous habit that she’d been doing more and more as her family dinner steadily approached.

Charles wanted to say no, to reassure her that her family, her mother, will be at their best behavior but he knew he’d be lying if he said that. Instead he said, “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s just,” she bit her lip again before sighing, her figure slumping in silent resignation, “I spent all day cooking and cleaning and making sure everything is perfect and I really just want her to say “It’s delicious, Y/N!” for once in my life. Is that too much to ask? I know I’m setting myself up for disappointment by hoping but…” Her sentence trailed off, a look of hope and despair swirling in the deep E/C of her eyes.

Charles frowned. Y/N wasn’t from Monaco and her family came to their home every year to spend the holidays with them. She had a terrible habit of bending over backwards to please her parents, her family, and most especially her mother, but every year, she was met with disappointment.

It’s too salty. 

It’s too sweet.

That one doesn’t taste good at all.

It’s not pretty enough. 

The decoration is shabby.

It’s not good enough. 

It’s never good enough for Y/N’s mother, whose snipes often chip away at Y/N’s self confidence. 

And it wasn’t just her. Not even Charles is immune to their criticism.

Your job is not good enough. 

Your education is not good enough. 

Your house is not good enough.

You are not good enough for our daughter.

Y/N grew up privileged, far more privileged than most people. Her family was affluent, members of high society that often had their faces splashed on the news for their efforts in charity. They were what people called old money rich, the kind of rich that had maids and butlers and chauffeurs attend to their every beck and call. Charles knew her mother hoped Y/N would marry someone on the same wave length as they were, as affluent as they were if not more. When Y/N and Charles got married a couple years ago, it put a damper on her mother’s plans and she’d hated him ever since. You’d think that with Charles’s job as a world famous F1 driver, he’d fit the bill of what was good enough for Y/N but in her mother’s eyes, he would never be good enough. Not when he saw his teammate more often in a year than he saw his wife, not when Y/N decided to stay in Monaco with Charles rather than in the country she grew up in and definitely not when Y/N and Charles both decided to live simple lives. Well, simpler than what Y/N was use to. 

You’re both just so different from each other.

Y/N, you can’t even speak French.

Y/N, you really want your face to be splashed in the tabloids every day?

Y/N, you don’t even know how to handle a load of laundry and you don’t want to hire help?

Charles, are you really going to take my daughter from me?

Charles, your house is small. We always thought since you live in Monaco, you’d be better off than you are right now.

Charles, are you sure you’re famous?

Since their marriage, Y/N’s mother had done everything she could to break them up. Every year, after the holidays, Charles waited with bated breath, sure that that year would be the year where Y/N will finally heed her parents’ comments and leave him to find someone better. 

But she never did. 

Y/N stayed steadfast by Charles’s side, through thick and thin. She never wavered, not her resolve, not her faith in him and definitely not the love she felt for him. 

It was nothing short of a miracle. 

And though Charles knew Y/N would be much happier if she let one of her siblings handle their holiday dinner, she would never hand off the responsibility. Y/N knew first hand how disparaging her family’s snide comments were and she could never, in good conscience, pawn it off to one of her siblings, even if they were a part of the problem. Charles loved Y/N too much to try and force her hand. So, instead, the holidays was a storm they weathered together.

A storm they weathered only once a year. 

A storm they’ve survived over and over again.

“It’s going to be okay, ma belle,” Charles said as he finished cleaning the dishes, wiping his wet hands on the hand towel by the sink. 

Almost instantly, Y/N was wrapped around his arms, her head tucked against the crook of his neck, the tension on her shoulders bleeding out. He could feel the steady rising of her chest, the way her heart seemed to thud nervously against her chest before settling into a sporadic rhythm that Charles was certain wasn’t good.

His hand rubbed circles around her back, willing her body to calm down. “It’s going to be okay,” he muttered again.

He felt Y/N take a deep shuddering breath before giving him a firm nod. “It’s going to be okay.” She repeated before she pulled away, her lips stretching into the sweet smile Charles adored.

“Why don’t you go get ready,” Charles said, pushing Y/N towards the exit of the kitchen, “I’ll finish setting the table. I’ll make sure I’ll do it to your liking.”

She beamed at him. “Okay. I won’t take too long.”

She hopped away, her mood a lot happier than it was fifteen minutes ago. 

As promised, Charles finished setting up the dining table, making it into a setting worthy of several accolades. He knew nothing could calm Y/N more than a shower but he also knew how distracting her anxiety could be. As soon as she got back down, Y/N would be worrying over another minute detail that would already be perfect. 

So Charles went to their living room, switching on the stereo to play a slow and enchanting melody. 

A few minutes later, Charles could hear Y/N’s feet as they padded down the stairs. “Charles?”

“In here.”

Y/N rounded the corner. She finished getting ready quickly, her once messy hair pulled into a neat hairstyle, her makeup pristine, her clothes ironed to perfection. 

“What do you think?” Y/N said, biting her lip. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“Too much? You’re kidding, right? I have the most beautiful wife in the world,” Charles said, pulling Y/N close and planting a soft kiss on her lips. He could feel her smile against his mouth. She smelled intoxicating, the heady smell of her perfume wrapping around him until he was sure he could become delirious from the scent of her alone.

“Alright, Mr. Leclerc,” Y/N said when she pulled away. Gone was the nervous frown on her face, replaced by a lovely chagrin look she reserved only for him. “Are you done with the table setting?”

He nodded. “Made specifically to your liking.”

She drew a shaky breath. “Then now all we have to do is relax and wait.”

“Uh-uh,” Charles said, shaking his head before pulling her to the direction of the kitchen. “You won’t ever relax, ma belle, not like this. You need to burn off your nervous energy or you won’t be able to sit still during the dinner.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

Charles just shook his head again before depositing Y/N by the refrigerator. He turned off the kitchen lights and at that point in the evening, the sun had already set, the sky darkening into a deep inky violet. He opened the large refrigerator door and the darkness of the kitchen parted as the refrigerator’s orange light spilled into the small space by Y/N’s feet. 

Y/N already seemed to know what was on Charles’s mind, the smile on her face turning back into a look of loving chagrin. Half her face bathed against the shadows of the evening, the orange light of the refrigerator lighting the other half and turning her features sharp. There aren’t a lot of people who can boast that they look nice under the refrigerator light but Charles thought himself lucky his wife was one of them. “You know, this is why our electric bill is astronomical.”

“I don’t care,” Charles said taking Y/N’s hands and wrapping it around his neck before his own arms wrapped around her waist. His head rested on her forehead, their breath mingling against the frosty air. Something about the space screamed of privacy, of a sacredness that demanded whispered prayers. His voice lowered into a mutter as he spoke his next words. “I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too,” Y/N said, her own voice as soft as the sound of dandelions dancing in spring. 

The soft music that filtered from their living room seemed to wrap around them, a protective cocoon that not even a blast of lightning could penetrate. The ground beneath them could crumble and they would simply dance on air.

“It’s a good thing I cleared out the fridge to cook dinner or else we’d be drinking spoiled milk tomorrow,” Y/N muttered, causing Charles to chuckle.

They weren’t dancing so much as they were swaying but the moment was sweet. Y/N had begun humming to the song playing on the stereo and Charles found himself joining her, their voices mingling into the soft cascading melody. Charles knew she was still nervous about the dinner and having her family in their home but those thoughts were at the back of her mind, her focus shifting to this moment here.

Marriage was hard and anyone who said that it was easy wasn’t married to the right person. Being married meant conflicts and fights, screaming and fighting, hurricanes that could rip the very foundations of a couple’s relationship and uproot them until they land someplace they didn’t recognize. 

But it’s what made it all worth it in the end, isn’t it? Knowing that at the end of every bad day, there’s someone who loves and supports you that you can come back to. Someone to call home.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever get through this stupid dinner without you,” Y/N muttered. 

“You managed to live life with your family without me for a pretty long time,” he said with a teasing grin. 

“Doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. I bear my family without you around. When you’re there, I can almost tolerate them.”

Charles chuckled. 

Suddenly, the doorbell of their home rang, shattering their peaceful cocoon. Y/N sighed. She made a move to pull away but Charles’s grip around her waist tightened. 

“I’m not yet ready, mon ange,” He muttered, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before relishing in the feel of being in her arms. 

“They’re waiting,” Y/N mumbled but she made no move to lull away from him, her feet firmly rooted in place, her arms locked around his neck. 

“One last hug. We won’t be able to do that til the end of the night.”

Her parents hated seeing their children share any kind of affection for their spouses. They couldn’t so much as hold hands before Y/N’s father made a tsk noise. 

Charles and Y/N melted into each other’s embrace before the door bell rang again. 

“Coming!” Y/N called out, finally pulling away and closing the door of the refrigerator. She exited the kitchen with Charles in a tow, her hands moving to turn on the lights on in the kitchen.

“You ready?” Charles asked as they walked to their front door. He could hear the impatient chatter on the other side of the door but chose to ignore it.

He watched as the once anxious-ridden Y/N shifted her features, smoothing it into a calmness she hadn’t worn all day. It was like watching an actor don a mask. She took a deep, steadying breath before she gave Charles a firm nod.

Together, they opened the door and greeted her parents. 

Whatever storm they were going to face tonight, they’d face it together.

[t-akipsilim]

Be Your Guide

An ATWOW fanfic (fem!reader insert)

Note: reader enters the story as “Rayti”, the daughter of a strong healer of the Omaticaya clan. The fic begins after the abduction of Spider, and the reader is worried for her friends upon hearing about the sudden targeting of Jake Sully and his family.

“Leaving?”

“Yes, ma child”, the mother replied as she combed through the unruly locks of her eldest daughter. Aside from the occasional tug on tangled strands, she weaved her fingers to calm her troubled youth. The youth, in question, simply bowed her head in disheartenment. ‘Had they decided to stay, they’d be in danger’, she bit her lip in further dismay, ‘then we’d all be in danger’.

Though hidden away from the turmoil of the constant attacks and resistance between Na’vi and Sky People, she, among many, was not oblivious to the situation of the Sully family. Especially after news of the recent attack reached the ears of their community. She was hopeful, but reality surged to strike at their hearts, already torched alight by the violent operations against their foreign counterparts. Now Spider, her friend, had been taken; the rest spared and brought back safely. They needed a new plan, to guarantee safety for all of them. To save their stronghold from further peril. Of course, it was an eye for an eye, and a price was to be paid.

“So, it is agreed, then?” She was certain that a new Olo'eyktan was to be chosen. There would be a ceremony, and they would all have to see the family off…and then..

The mother, Nao’yri, held her daughter’s distraught face. She could easily read the mind of her beloved in one glance, and she never held any doubt if not in the current moment. No, today she knew what her daughter was thinking, and she didn’t like it. But it was not so easy to halt these gears turning in her head, nor wipe away the determination in her eyes. So, she held the smaller fist of this troubled youth and as their eyes met, it was as if their minds had connected.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, my Rayti”

~*~

The fire drew sprightly glows on the barren ground as Rayti and her mother drew closer to the tent of the Toruk Makto and his family. She could hear the adamant yet flourishing voice of her tribe’s Tsahìk from inside the weaved shelter as an accompanying Na’vi soldier stood by the entrance. He announced her presence and the voices died down. A friendly face popped from inside to greet her, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Neteyam!” She scurried to the entrance as the Na’vi soldier turned away.

“Rayti! Come in!” The taller adolescent guided her inside with a pat on the shoulder, as his sibling rushed past him, eager to see her friend.

“Tuk! How are you? All okay?” Rayti stooped down to inspect the youngest, who was already laughing at her antics.

“I’m fine, sister! Mom and dad looked me over,” her voice dropped to a whisper,” It was really scary, though”.

Rayti could only manage a smile at the others, Kiri and Lo’ak, as their father drew closer. “I understand you requested a talk on serious terms?”

“Yes.” Came Nao’yri’s reply. He gestured to the covered floor as the family sat once again, along with their guests.

~*~

The fire flickered and cackled under the heavy stares of its masters.

“I see, so you’d like to join us”, Jake frowned uneasily.

“Simply as an accompanying navigator,” Nao’yri continued, “My daughter believes that her acquaintance with traveling could be of use. She has flown many a time to distant regions in pursuit of the herbs needed for my remedies. She knows of a faraway tribe that could provide sanctuary. And additionally,” she turned to her daughter, eyes soft and smiling.

“I’d like to help, sir,” Rayti cursed the small waver in her voice yet continued, “We are indebted to you and your family, for you among many warriors have ensured the safety of this tribe,” she paused to make eye contact with each of the members of the family, which only strengthened her resolve.

“…it is only right that we as a community should see to yours as well.”

Jake eyed the girl’s eager, swishing tail as his Tsahìk spoke, “And, you can ensure this?”.

“It will not be easy, but I have trained Rayti well in my ways of herbs and medicine. She will be able to provide additional aid with this training. It will take many days and nights to get to this secluded region, away from the forest.”

‘Away from…your home’ Rayti held no doubt what this would mean for Jake and his family, especially Neytiri, who had already gone through so much before becoming Tsahìk. How much more hurtful would it be, to then be ripped apart from home in pursuit of a singular solution, to untangle your heartstrings from the vines of the Earth, and to set flight to a place where no one else could follow? But if she could do something for her friends…to hasten their escape… It would be indeed be painful for each of them, but she was willing to do what she could to help fortify their plans.

Crackle, pop

Neytiri and Jake exchanged a look. Less anxious now, Rayti intervened.

“I will be staying shortly to ensure your settlement goes smoothly, and after-“

“-After she does my work” Nao’yri emphasized tenderly, earning a swift nod from her daughter.

“-Yes, after I retrieve some plant samples. I will return to the Omaticaya clan without a trace of where I arrived from”.

Crackle, sputter

The silence felt suffocating, but Rayti held her gaze. Beside her, Nao’yri reached out to nestle her hand atop her fingers. ‘Would they be convinced?’ she wondered.

“We will discuss this. Your offer is appreciated and will be taken into consideration,” Jake nodded. Rayti’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled in quiet thanks, oblivious to the siblings’ small grins and looks of amusement from seeing her fervid and curved tail movements. Yet it wasn’t a lie that they were shocked by her proposal and even thankful for her stepping up. Knowing her, she couldn’t stay away for long, but like a true friend, she’d always deliver.

~*~

“Whatever I’ve done, I did it for them”

-Rayti

| Next

[iguana-braces]

Ol’ Reliable (Hangman x Reader)

From this request -- Masterlist

Description: Playing hard to get on the Fourth of July has some ~*exciting*~ consequences. 

Warnings: swearing, explicit content, vaginal sex, fingering, mild domination, roughness

Word Count: 2k

Note: Apparently all my smut is going to be ½ plot-based build-up, so… also slightly changed the prompt

MINORS DNI, 18+

It was just an invitation, a Facebook invitation no less, to a Fourth of July party hosted by a friend, held at their family’s lakefront mansion. It’d be a weekend of stars and stripes, booze, brats, boats, and beaches. You’d gone a few times before, years ago, when you were more than happy to take part in the over-indulgent depravity that occurred when trust-fund babies and their hanger-on friends were allowed to run wild. 

But that felt like a lifetime ago. Now your hangovers hit like a dump truck and you had a manual of those "office space stretches" to keep your spine from collapsing on itself during the day. And as much as you were looking to let down your hair over the holiday weekend, you were adamant about remaining somewhat clear-headed and rational. 

Except for the fact that you knew he’d be there. The last time you saw him, you had to inform him of your new relationship, one that you swore would last and it did… for a while. But now here you were, single again, and hell would freeze over the day Jake Seresin ever decided to settle down so he’d most likely be on the prowl, same as always. And you had never been one to run from him, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t give him a good chase. 

You dressed to impress, Daisy Dukes over a strappy swimsuit that revealed just enough without being obscene about it. Your tan lines would be atrocious but certain sacrifices had to be made in the name of the game. 

Once there, you stuck close to your friend and the other reformed hooligans you used to lose your inhibitions with, warily keeping an eye out for the pilot they now called “Hangman”. A couple times you swore you heard his voice, his laugh, from somewhere nearby, haunting you. Taunting you.

Finally, around noon, you found him. Or, he found you first, appearing beside you as you basked in the sun. 

“Haven’t seen you around here for a while.” The years had been kind to him, too kind. He was still gorgeous, still absolutely shredded, and presumably, still gifted below the belt. But you made sure not to let your gaze linger for too long, finding a boat on the lake to fix your attention to instead. 

“Yeah, and?”

He pointedly glanced at your bare ring finger. “I thought you were getting married to… what’s-his-face.”

“Yeah, he thought so too.”

“Right, and you just couldn’t stay away for long, could you?" 

"What the hell do you mean, Jake?"

"I mean that there’s no way you just decided to show up here for the first time in years, single, dressed like that, knowing I’d be here, without any ulterior motives. I thought you learned your lesson the last time you decided to make me jealous." 

You almost blushed at the memory but fought it back, refusing to let him onto your intentions for the night. 

"You think I'm trying to make you jealous?” you said, laughing incredulously. “Like it’s a foregone conclusion we’ll bang just because we’re both single and existing within a thousand yard radius of each other?”

“I mean, that’s exactly what’s happened every other time we’ve seen each other. Why is this time any different?”

“Maybe I’m just not interested in you anymore.”

“I don’t believe that, for reasons previously stated.”

You sat up, stretching lazily. “It’s been years, Jake. And you know, you're not the only one on the planet who's above average in bed. You’re not even the only person at this party who’s above average.”

“What, you already hooked up with someone here and they just happened to be better than me? Yeah, right,” he scoffed.

“Maybe I did.”

“Who?”

“That’s absolutely none of your business.”

“See, I still think you’re lying.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your things and started walking up towards the house. “You and your poor ego. Does it just kill you inside, thinking that you might not be the best at everything?”

Following you like a lost puppy, Jake boasted, “Oh, I know I’m not the best at everything. I’m just the best at the things I care about.”

“Flying and fucking?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, unfortunately, that’s just not true anymore.”

Stopping in front of you, he narrowed his eyes, searching your expression for any signs of deception. But you had prepared for this and kept a straight face, one that said you’re fucked, Seresin. “... Seriously?”

“As serious as cancer.”

“Wha– How? How were they better than me?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“You know, maybe you’ve just misremembering. It’s been a few years, how can you possibly give an accurate comparison between me and… whoever the fuck you banged?” He was trying so hard to keep up his nonchalant curiosity, but you knew him well enough to hear the insecurity seeping into his voice.

“I guess we’ll never know for sure,” you admitted, shrugging. “But in my mind, it’s a done deal. You lost, Hangman. It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

“Only because you’re not being fair. It’s only good sportsmanship to give me a shot at defending my title.”

“Hmm… Maybe. Maybe later. I need to shower and you’re not invited.”

He smirked and you could tell his mind was getting ahead of itself, already visualizing his victory. But the day wasn’t over yet. 

With that encounter out of the way, you were able to focus on spending the rest of the day with your friends, people you could actually stand to have a conversation with, as you reminisced about the good old days and watched the new generation of collegiate idiots make the same mistakes you did. 

But of course, there was still a game to be played. When you were sure that Jake had a clear line of sight, you conveniently dropped your silverware, bending to pick it up in such a way that wasn’t exactly cooperative with the hem of your short sundress. And you made sure to give plenty of attention to your male friends, the ones who were single and openly welcomed the attention, letting the wheels in Hangman’s mind turn as he tried to deduce which one you had slept with. 

By evening, as people really started getting messy, drinking to pass the time until it was dark enough for fireworks, you’d grown tired of your own charade and hoped its payoff would be worthwhile. And you weren’t the only one who felt that way. 

“So when is this gonna happen?” Jake said, cornering you in the kitchen of your friend’s house as you scavenged for more food. 

“Getting impatient?” 

“Well, the night’s not getting any younger, and I gotta know if I should start looking elsewhere for a nightcap.”

Oh, no, no, no, you weren’t letting any other woman take what you had so rightly worked for. But in order to avoid revealing your desperation, you sighed and replied, “Fine, let’s go. But hurry up, I wanna watch the fireworks.”

That only gave him about half an hour, but then again, he always worked best under pressure.

“What was his name?”

“What?”

“The guy you claim is better than me. His name.”

The second you’d started heading to your guest room, you’d forgotten all about the little performance that had led you there. Suddenly forgetting the names of every male you knew, you sputtered the first that you could think of after a few seconds of straining. “...David.”

“That’s real sexy. Dave,” he mocked, apparently buying your blatant lie. 

Arriving at the guest room your friend had so graciously offered you, Jake glanced around and remarked, “There’s like, nothing in here.”

There was in fact a nightstand, dresser, chair, and ottoman. And of course, “There’s a bed. You know, the place where most people have sex.”

“There’s also a balcony.” 

“No,” you insisted, spreading out your beach towel. Sand in the bed was one thing, but wet, sticky sheets were worse. Having sex on a bed was quite possibly Hangman’s worst nightmare, but he could suck it up this time. Your days of being caught half-naked in the boathouse were in the past and that’s exactly where they’d stay. 

Slipping off your panties, you didn’t bother removing your dress, merely hiking it up as you laid on your back on the towel.

“How big is Dave? Bigger? Smaller?” 

“Smaller.” It was highly unlikely you’d have enjoyed anything with someone who was more well-endowed than Jake by any increment, and he’d know that.

“That’s unfortunate. For you.”

“Go slow, Jake,” you warned as he stripped. Literally just looking at him made you want to moan, and you doubted you’d actually need the lube you had tossed at him. But better safe than sorry. 

“You’re the one who put a time limit on this thing.”

“I’m serious. I will cut your dick off if you don’t take it easy.”

“Relax, I know what I’m doing.” Briefly sucking on his middle and index finger, he slipped them inside you without ceremony, quickly curling them to hit your most sensitive spots. It was good, but foreplay wasn’t his forte and your resolve to act disinterested was slightly stronger than his dexterity. But it wasn’t for your pleasure anyway, it was merely a warm-up, stretching before the real workout. 

Even though you’d taken it numerous times before, you were always still somewhat intimidated by the size of his dick as he lined it up at your entrance. Consciously trying to relax yourself as Jake slowly entered you, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised moan at feeling yourself stretch around his cock. 

“Sounds like you missed me,” he said, smirking. You wanted to slap him for being so obnoxiously cocky, but that was also part of his intoxicating charm. “Bet Dave didn’t get that kind of reaction.”

True to his word, he started out at a painstakingly slow pace, but worth it to feel yourself stretch and contract as he almost fully pulled out then fully buried himself inside you with each slow thrust. He was barely able to bottom out before being physically restricted from going any deeper. 

“Mmm….” you sighed. 

“Slow enough for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t ever say I’m not a gentleman.” After a few more minutes, Jake glanced at his watch. “Are you properly adjusted now? Permission to pick up the fucking pace a little?”

"Go for it." 

Quite quickly, he worked up to a speed akin to a bullet train, snapping his hips into yours without falter. You didn’t want to let him win so easily, but it soon became near impossible to hold back your moans. Jake didn’t seem to notice, he wouldn’t be satisfied with his victory until you were utterly ravaged. 

Breaking with tradition, he rested his weight on his left hand as his right moved between your legs, this thumb swiping over your clit. Usually that was your job, adding to your own pleasure when he was too absorbed in his own. But it seemed that chivalry wasn’t dead anymore.

It didn’t take long before you started to tense. “Oh, shit, Jake!”

Crying out loud enough that you were sure the entire lake heard you, you came hard, your nails digging into his forearm hard enough to make him wince. But he didn’t relent, only slowing down long enough for your orgasm to subside before launching the same attack, which worked just as successfully as the first one. 

When your breathing finally started to even out and you were able to unclench your eyes, you saw Jake check his watch again. 

“Shit,” he sighed, abruptly pulling out of you. You almost whined at the sudden loss of contact, before he ordered, “Face down, ass up.”

That was his favorite position, attacking from behind. Doggystyle, bending you over something, that was how he really did his damage. As if you hadn’t had enough in this brief encounter to make your head spin. 

Wasting no time, he reentered you, grabbing your hips and pounding into you with an unrelenting pace. Gasping for air through moans and obscenities, part of you was mentally begging for mercy and another part was just begging for more, please, more. But before you could reach your peak, he abruptly pulled out of you, and you lost all your built up momentum. 

“What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” you groaned, reeling from the whiplash. 

“You know, I don’t think Dave really exists,” Jake mused through heavy breaths, his hands resting gently on your rear as he returned to the painfully slow thrusts you’d started with. “You were just fucking with me, weren’t you?”

The slow movement was enough to make you crave more, another big finish, but not enough to get you there. 

“God fucking damnit,” you muttered.

“What was that?” He suddenly snapped his hips deeply into yours, eliciting a sharp gasp of “Shit!” from you. You tried to move against him, desperate for some kind of friction, but he pulled back again. It was demeaning having to feed his ego sometimes, but you also needed him to do what he was best at now. “Say it and I’ll let you finish. Again.”

“Yes, I was fucking with you.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” He slammed into you again, now gaining momentum. Your hands gripped at the sheets for dear life, your hair falling over your face as he fucked you into the mattress so hard you thought he might rip straight through you. You knew he couldn’t last much longer, and neither could you. Finally–

“Just one more question, actually. Who can fuck you better than I do?”

If you were still in a rational state of mind, you would’ve rolled your eyes. But you had completely lost the plot, too overwhelmed by the rush of chemicals in your brain and the stinging pleasure radiating through your body to form a coherent string of consonants and vowels. But you had to answer, otherwise he’d stop again and you might just commit homicide if he did. 

Finally, you gasped into the mattress, “...Nobody.”

“A little louder now.” Jake’s hand tangled in your hair and yanked back, pulling your head off the mattress as he continued to hammer into you. 

"Can't even speak, huh? Maybe I should let you catch your breath–" 

“Please don’t stop,” you gasped. “Nobody can fuck me better than you, Jake.”

“Damn right,” he grunted, dropping your head back onto the bed and grabbing your waist with both hands to jackhammer into you as you both went over the edge. 

As the blood rushed back to your head, you heard an explosion outside and the room was bathed in a burst of color. 

Jake was already off of you, cleaning himself with the towel. “Is that perfect fucking timing or what?”

Of course. Of course, it was right on cue, like he’d timed it down to the second. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to lift your head to look out the window, instead settling for watching the colors reflected off the walls. 

"Are you just gonna lay there or should I find you a wheelchair?" 

"Fuck off.”

“See you around, Y/N.”

“Will you, though?" you winced, finally sitting up from your prone position. 

He smiled that winning smile, stating, "Well, the best only fucks with the best. Who else would I go to?" 

[zablife]

Selecting Books with Tommy

Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Request: Going to a bookshop and selecting books for each other. Requested by @runnning-outof-time

Warnings: threat with a weapon, Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution.

You removed your glasses and rubbed your tired eyes. The fine print in front of you melding together into one giant blob. You didn’t complain about that or the crick in your neck though. You were perfectly contented to stay in this cramped little records office for the rest of your days if it meant protection from the Shelby family. You’d been on the run from their vengeance far too long before your father finally agreed to settle in this small town under assumed names. 

Despite his steadfast loyalty in his ten years as their bookkeeper, your father had been wrongly accused of stealing a great sum of money. His adamant refusal he would ever do such a thing went overlooked and Thomas Shelby decreed your family owed a debt. While your father worked to secure the money, Tommy took you as collateral. The family was enraged when you managed to get away from the house where you were being held. No one made a fool of the Shelbys and lived to tell about it which is why you were so careful now. 

You’d become a different person several times over to avoid suspicion, changing your name, your clothes and hair, even the glasses were an unnecessary addition used to make you look differently than what the Shelbys would have remembered. You cursed the uncomfortable frames daily, but felt something must be working because they hadn’t found you as you worked to save enough money to move abroad.

This evening, you filed a few more documents before locking up the office. The evening sky was just turning from purple to deep blue hues as you turned the key in the lock and you shivered at the chilly autumn breeze that blew through your hair. Absently dropping your key ring, you bent down to find it in the dark and touched the hard tip of a boot instead.

“That was rather clumsy,” a deep voice rumbled from above your head. You froze wanting to scream, but kept quiet. Taking your keys in hand, you rose slowly to see Thomas Shelby standing before you brandishing a gun. “Now that I’m here aren’t you going to show me your collection? I hear it’s fascinating,” he said with a wink. You gulped, realizing he meant the private papers of the citizens of the town. He may have found you, but he didn’t have to know about your father or the people who had been protecting you. Inside he could find all the information he would need to ruin the lives of everyone you’d come to care for deeply.

“That wasn’t a request,” he said taking you by the back of the neck harshly and forcing you to reopen the door. You took in a ragged breath as you tried to make your hands work. It was difficult as they were quickly becoming numb from cold and fear. You wondered if you might still be able to run, but the thought of trying to move your legs seemed impossible. All you could do was succumb to his demands. 

When Thomas heard the lock click open, he kicked the door in harshly with his boot and steered you inside by your shoulder. His grasp was tight and you heard the leather of his black gloves tighten and crack beside your ear. You grew dizzy as you imagined that same hand sliding around your neck. He tossed you into a chair as he brandished a folder from his coat pocket, flipping through the pages carefully.

“Would you like to know what I have here?” he asked eyes flicking to yours suddenly. You gulped, looking at him with wide eyes as you gripped the chair under you for support. 

“Wh-what is it?” you asked timidly. He was toying with you now, savoring his victory over you.

“It’s my favorite work of fiction,” he said with satisfied nod. “In the past two years you’ve been three different people, love. You’re a clever girl.” He began to approach you slowly, gun ready by his side as he moved a lock of hair from your face. “But not nearly clever enough.”

“What are you going to do to me?” you asked searching his ice blue eyes for a hint of mercy. You could have sworn he cared for you once and you wondered if you might exploit that once more to save your father.

“That depends on your cooperation, doesn’t it? You see, now comes your turn. You’re going to show me your favorite book,” he said raising you by the crook of your arm to a standing position and gesturing toward the rows of records. “I have a feeling your father’s paperwork is in here somewhere and I’m going to find it. Then when I’m done with you, I’m going to pay him a little visit,” he said with a snarl.

[daisies-and-buttercups]

“Love and War - Chapter III” - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: You’ve picked a side, and now you have to deal with the aftermath. 

A/N: When I started this fic I had a decent outline what I wanted to happen but my ideas sorta ended with this part. However, I’m loving where this is going and I have some more ideas, so there probably will be a few more chapters 👀  Either way, I want to thank everyone that liked and commented, not only on this fic but in general, it always makes me so happy and it really means a lot 💕

Words: 3.4k

Chapter I Chapter II

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Your house was now used to your incessant walking, the wood singing along as you stood on it over and over, pacing from one room to the other, picking the phone up, sighing, falling on the bed for a short moment before starting the routine all over again. 

By morning you had slept for only a few hours, the ghost of Arthur visiting you in your dreams to blame you for his death, shaking you up until you woke up. The sun was now high, making you jump up to reach the phone. You weren’t backing down, you’d have no more deaths.

The phone rang consistently, bothering Ada enough to make her pick it up, ignoring Tommy’s order against it.  “What?” Her tone was annoyed, but she understood once she heard yours, nervous and desperate. “Ada? Ada! I need to know where they are. I’m not having them kill each other.”  “Oh darling, I… I can’t. Tommy was adamant about not letting you know.” Her tone was now softer, having missed your conversations and feeling the desperation in your voice. “Ada, please. I covered you when you and Freddie-“ “Is this a me-and-Freddie situation?” “What?” “Is he your Freddie?”  Your fingers tapped on the table, looking up at the flowers that had started to wither. You had pressed the nicest ones in a book, but couldn’t bring yourself to throw the rest away and, even if dried out, they still somehow looked good, so you kept them.  Was he your Freddie? He definitely felt like what Ada had described all those years ago, the feelings she described so vividly were now also your own. You hadn’t spent long enough with him to truly know, but you didn’t want him to die before you had the chance to figure it out. “I don’t know, Ada. I think so.”  Her sigh was the only sign, along with your impatient tapping, that time was still flowing.  “The distillery. Tommy left not too long ago, so I’d rush there.”  You groaned and ran to get your shoes, running back to the phone to thank her. “You didn’t hear it from me, you hear me! Not from me!” She repeated over and over, hoping that you wouldn’t be the victim of the day. She really didn’t want to lose a friend. 

The roads were deserted as you ran past the first buildings, spotting the distillery in the distance.  You turned the corner, trying not to run the final meters that separated you from whatever was going on inside, thinking it wise to listen to what was happening before jumping into a situation you might not know how to handle, but stopped dead in your tracks. Someone stood outside the door, taking a few steps, listening, scratching his head and checking his gun. Someone that looked a lot like… “Arthur?”  He turned and faced you, smiling but quickly placing a finger over his lips, letting you know to be quiet. You walked fast again, walking over to him and crashing against his chest, pulling him in a quick hug, but freezing when you realised why he was out here. He wasn’t alone, but the men stayed back, leaving you the space to talk, holding their guns in clear sight nonetheless.  “How are you doing, love?” He whispered. “You’re… you’re meant to be dead.” “Hope it’s not too disappointing to see me still standing, dear” he laughed softly, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’d suggest leaving now, it ain’t gonna be pretty.” he motioned to the gun, glancing inside while focusing for a moment on the voices that could faintly be heard. You stood still, listening along and hearing Luca speak, then the sound of banging and glass breaking, the clear sound of a fight.  It was the vortex of emotions swirling in your steps that kept you there, trying to make sense of the situation. Your image of Luca had been shifted because of Arthur’s death, only to now find him standing there, armed, ready for a fight. And you knew who the bullets in his barrel were for. “Ah, that’s my cue. See ya, love.”  You weren’t sure if it was the sound of your heartbeat or of your footsteps, but before he had time to react you slipped past him, holding your stare straight ahead of you, the colour of blood painting your thoughts. It was rage, that rage that had never been strong, that always came when you weren’t part of Tommy’s plans. When you had to stay behind. When it was better if you didn’t know. You wasted all your tears on a man that wasn’t dead, not an ounce of regret in anybody’s mind when you walked in. 

The first thing you saw was Tommy’s expression drop when his eyes landed on you, the only person that could’ve complicated this further. Then you saw Luca.  His face wasn’t the same as when you last saw it. Gashes decorated it, his eye was swollen and his lips hung open, showing you the damage dealt in its full glory. It was a gruesome show, only made worse by the stares that you received for being there.  Tommy was holding him up when you walked in, the faint glimmer of surprise passing through his eyes, expecting Arthur to walk in, not you. But to see you walk over  to the bloodied man… maybe that’s what made him truly speechless. When you reached Luca you stopped, looking at his injuries for only a second before hearing Arthur cock his gun.  “Get away from him, sweetheart. I told you to leave.”  You turned slowly, first meeting Thomas’ cold stare and then facing the gun that was pointed at you, crossing your arms in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere, Arthur. Shoot me, I’m not leaving.”  Luca called your name, pulling you weakly away, trying to get you to stand behind him. He wouldn’t have you get killed over his life. But you didn’t move, asserting your position once more in front of the man, planting your feet harshly against the ground.  You saw Arthur’s eyes wander between you and Tommy, unsure as to what to do. You all waited for the next move, the only sound being Luca’s demands for you to leave as he clung to you, trying to get you to leave. “Go.”  Tommy spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on your hand, the one that gripped on to Luca’s. He couldn’t watch you, so worried for the life of that man. A person he had considered a friend, a helper, family, even, now standing on the enemy’s side.  You had been Luca’s only request. He didn’t care about the rest, but he wanted you to leave with him, if that was what you desired, and he didn’t want anyone trying to stop you. He wanted you, and that made Tommy’s blood boil, but he played his part, knowing full well that he had the upper hand. He knew that there's no leaving, not for you and not for him. There was nothing to go back to either way. Luca was never going to leave alive in Tommy’s eyes, but when you crossed the threshold the illusion shattered. The way you looked at him made it clear that you’d be willing to risk more than your life for the Italian. He’d been a fool, maybe, but there had always been something about your ways. He knew you, cared for you, and underestimated you all at the same time. In his eyes you’d always follow him like a lost puppy, just like Arthur did, but you were strong enough to break from his spell and get away. “Now!” he shouted, walking over to Arthur and ripping his gun out of his hands, aiming it at you, allowing his emotions to leave him, falling back into his new reality. You were an enemy now too, and he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.  A small flinch and the beginning of a tear was all that you allowed him to see before you moved, cringing at the sound of Luca grunting in pain at your movement, trying to pull him up somewhat gently, but not allowing him to see that, no matter where you stood now, this still hurt. 

Feeling your heart beat in your chest, you focused on the gun aimed at you for a moment, stopping at the door to look each one of them in the eyes. Tommy’s gaze didn’t falter, menacing and cold, while Arthur couldn’t look at you, moving away from where you stood, realising the side you chose didn’t match his own.  You had often sat with Arthur, the two of you ignored on many occasions and gave you an extra reason to bond, and he cared deeply for you, but he wouldn’t go against Tommy, not even to look at you to show you that he somehow wasn’t mad, just surprised and disappointed at your choice. 

While you walked out of the door, no man followed you, making it clear that Luca’s men were no longer his, Matteo standing still behind you, not daring to look up and meet Luca’s eyes, clutching his rifle tightly against his chest.   “I should be the hero coming to save you, not vice versa.”  “Yeah, well, maybe next time.” You muttered, struggling to walk while carrying most of his body weight.  You weren’t sure what other damage he had apart from his face, but his limping and laboured breathing suggested that other parts of his body had been wounded too. He pretended to be fine, taking steady steps before falling back onto you with a grunt, whispering a mix of Italian swear words and apologies. 

The moment you crossed the threshold of your house you walked him over to the sofa, finding the phone and calling the doctor before gathering anything useful that you could find, cursing at yourself for not being more organised.  “You could’ve died.” he spoke, his voice coarse as you made your way back to him with the various creams. “You’re a goddamn fool.” You muttered, dabbing his wounds, making him flinch and hiss in pain.  “Gentle, love.” He tried to joke, moving away from you, only to stop when the pain between his ribs got worse.  “I wouldn’t have to be gentle if you weren’t such an idiot.” You answered back, scoffing but softening your touches nonetheless. The doctor was going to be here soon, so you decided to focus on the various cuts, moving as gently as you could, wiping away the blood and removing any piece of glass still stuck in his skin.  “Never do that again.” He spoke seriously now, moving ever so slightly while you took care of him, lifting his hand to wipe some of his blood that had gotten on your cheek.  “Never do what again, save your ass?”  “Stand between me and a gun.” It had been a bold move, trusting your gut, knowing that Arthur wouldn’t shoot at you, even when your brain was cursing at you to get out of the way, but you weren’t sure if that made all the difference. You hadn’t thought about it, you just felt the need to stand in front of him, to shield him, whatever the outcome.  “Then next time be on the right end of it.”  Your movements were stopped by his hand gripping yours, holding the blood-stained rag still, some of the drops dripping down your arms, colouring your skin with faint red lines. “That was my intention and always has been, I can assure you, but in no circumstance I want you to take a bullet for me.” His eyes wandered, looking at you while you took care of him. He couldn’t have hoped for a better sight, yet something about the scene before him tugged at something deep within him. The fear of what he thought he could never achieve being right in front of him, maybe.  “Turns out I am here to clean up your wounds in the end, eh?” you joked, trying to wipe the serious look off his face along with all the blood.  “Y’ won’t want to kiss me anymore, with all these cuts. Too many scars.” “Who said I ever wanted to kiss you in the first place?” It was a harmless joke, proved for good measure by the soft kiss you placed on his lips, the meeting of your tongues enticed by both of your lips curving into a soft smile, the feeling of finally belonging somewhere filling your chest. “You never seemed to mind, dear.”  “I’ll always want to kiss you.” You added, letting the truth run free. He laughed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, gently caressing your face with his fingertips, tracing invisible lines.  “No good came from kissing this old man, sweetheart. You-“ his words were interrupted by the timid knock on the door. He watched as you rose, making your way to the door, welcoming the doctor in and gesturing towards Luca, quickly explaining that you tended his external wounds and needed some help at assessing the internal ones. He looked away, nodding at the annoyance of being interrupted. 

“He’s got a broken rib. It will take him up to two months to fully recover, but in a week or two the pain should lessen. He’s also running a low fever. Everything seems under control, but if it rises you’ll have to monitor his condition.” The small man talked quietly, as if he didn’t want Luca to hear. Timid steps made him grow closer to the exit with each word he spoke, evidently eager to leave. “Thank you, doctor.”  He nodded, turning to walk away, stopping just before the door to glance behind him, looking at Luca, now standing tall behind you. “Is there a problem?” You asked, feeling the tension rise. You knew that Tommy had men all over town, but you didn’t want to believe that the doctor that had been helping you for years might be close to turning on you.  “They told me to deliver a message.”  A message. Through a man, rather than a phone call. Was that too personal for him now? They had no issue telling you about Arthur’s supposed death by phone, but now that he was threatening you, he used someone else’s voice.  “Have they, now?” Luca’s words were raspy, still out of breath from the movement and the pain, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating in the doctor’s eyes.  He was shorter than both of you, a small and round man, and, even with a broken rib and in pain, he knew Luca could easily overpower him if he so wished.  “They… Mr. Shelby said that you’ve got to leave. You’ve got until tomorrow. If you’re not-“ he took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling voice, “if you’re not on the last ship out of here they’d…” he trailed on, not wanting to anger either of you. A quick glance at you and he nodded, rushing out of the door, closing it behind him in a haste, eager to get away. You turned, letting out an exasperated sigh while Luca stood behind you, considering the doctor’s words. He hadn’t looked at you, only at him, which meant that it was very likely that their appreciation for you over the years had counted for something. They wouldn’t kill you.  “I’ll pack my bags.” It wasn’t a question, there was no doubt that you’d follow him. Life with the Shelby’s had been a blessing, some of the best years of your life, but you doubted Tommy would welcome you back, at least not so soon. There was nothing left for you here, not in the land of Thomas Shelby.  “He’s not after you.” he tried to stop you from grabbing the bag, grabbing a hold of your hand as he spoke, holding you in place. You moved to face him, studying his expression. A lot of Luca came from his eyes, using his words to charm and threaten and keeping his secrets hidden deep inside. “But he’s after you.” “You’ve got a life here.”  “I had a life here.” you answered, feeling the electricity of a new start in the air. “If I stayed I’d have to find a job, and not only are most businesses owned by the Blinders, but those that aren’t wouldn’t welcome someone that got away from them on bad terms. They’re feared, and I’d just make whoever wanted me a target. I made a choice, Luca, and you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” you laughed, moving closer to him and caressing his cheek, gently, avoiding the small cuts. “I get to start over.” He smiled at your words, wishing he had your way of seeing things, the simpler ones, his eyes now trained to see the thousands of possibilities and dangers that his way of life offered him so easily, yet ignoring the other possibilities, the ones that weren’t deadly. You complemented each other, lacking what the other was strongest in. And while he looked at you, all he saw was the image of the wife he never could’ve dreamed of having, hoping that one day you’d be just that. He smiled again at the thought, watching you as you walked back to your bed, opening your bag to pack your belongings.  “America?” you asked, choosing the limited clothes you could bring. You could buy more once you arrived there, but you were sentimental and some had to come; the dress you wore on your first day in Small Heath, the one you had on when you saw Ada’s kid for the first time, and the few dresses you wore with Luca. You placed them all neatly, feeling the soft fabric under your hands, picking a few other items to fill the bag. A photograph of you, Polly and Ada, all smiling proud, a pearl necklace that made you feel like you could rule the world, along with a few memories of your years in England. He nodded, still deep in thought. “Will Matteo be joining us later on?” “Matteo’s with the Blinders now.” “Is he?” you smiled at him, knowing that the truth wasn’t that simple, and when he looked at you, you knew you were right. The mafia didn’t work with money, but with honour. It was a different world from Tommy’s, and Matteo wasn’t going to bail on the Changretta family just for some extra money. “There’s only two ships leaving, one tonight and one tomorrow.” He watched you from the mirror, his fingers lightly dragging over his wounds while he was deep in thought. “They’ll know where to find us.” you spoke the implication out loud, giving you the time to think of a solution. “So what if we don’t go to America?” He stood, his eyes closing at the brusk movements, still not used to the level of care he needed to take when he moved, making his way to the small table where a bottle of wine had been discarded the night before, half of its contents still in it, two glasses lined up next to it but only one used.  “My family needs me.” “Yeah, alive.” “The Shelby’s have fucked with the business, I’ve got to fix their deeds.”  “But you can’t fix anything if they kill us tomorrow.” he opened his mouth, ready to protest, but you continued “I’m talking about one extra day, one stop before heading to America.”  The wine was sweet, calming his nerves in the slightest of ways. “What do you suggest?”  “Call your family, fill them in on what they haven’t figured out on their own. Then we pack our things, spend the night in each other's arms and when we wake up, we leave. The ship sets sail tomorrow at 9am.”  “You’ve planned this.” You nodded, looking at the man that stood before you with a pleased smile. You had spent enough time alone with your thoughts to come up with more than one plan, and this one was your favourite. A simple exit. You picked up the papers, the tickets for your journey, that had been abandoned on the desk, handing them to him with a wink.  “Italy. You’ve got family over there too, right? I’m sure you’ll be able to secure us a place to sleep for the night, and if not I guess we’ll just have to sleep under the stars.” You raised your hand dramatically, moving your fingers around an imaginary constellation. “Then we leave for America. One day, a small change in plan, and we’ll have the Shelby’s waiting for us here. Wrong place, wrong time, but not for us. And once we arrive, you’ll have all the time to fix what needs to be fixed. Deal?”  He took a second to think about it, pursing his lips in thought, watching as you waited patiently, switching your weight from one leg to the other. Then he nodded, your hands lifting in victory as you approached him, softly placing your arms on his shoulders.

“We have a deal.” 

[maddiwrites]

Let Me Go

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: This was requested! Y/N still lives with the Cameron’s following the death of her brother, but she’s being held there against her will. After many failed escape attempts, Y/N finally gets out of Figure Eight, but she’s far from safe. (The request was long so I’m going to link it here so you can see the full summary of what anon wanted!)

Note: I’m sorry this took so long to get out!!! I literally had half of it written and then it all deleted and I’m so upset because my first attempt at writing it was better but oh well. I hope you like it. Again, sorry for the long wait!

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF DRUG ABUSE, CHILD NEGLECT, GUN VIOLENCE, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE TOPICS TRIGGER YOU. PLEASE. SUICIDE HOTLINE: 800-273-8255

Masterlist

You weren’t always like this - sitting up in your unmade bed, staring at the blank wall in front of you like you could see through it, unshowered, trembling from your shoulders down to your toes, feeling empty from the inside out. 

You forget what it’s like to be free. Following the death of your brother, you’ve been trapped like a rat in a cage. Figure Eight is no longer the luxurious part of the island to you. It’s filled with lies, manipulation, secrets, murder. 

You’re still living at the Cameron’s. No, not living. Surviving. Ward refused to give his guardianship of you up. Some people wondered why - why would Ward want to live with the sister of a murderer? Yeah, that’s what they thought - that your brother killed Sheriff Peterkin and tried to kill Ward too. But you knew why.

Ward no longer treats you like a member of his family. He has you locked in your designated room on the third floor that’s basically only used as an attic and storage area. Your own personal prison. Because you know what he did - not only to your brother and his daughter but to your dad. 

You felt like you were losing grasps of reality. You only knew fall was approaching because you could hear Wheezy talking about it to Rose outside your door. You guess the time of day by the sunlight through your window and the meals brought to your room. 

Of course there have been times you tried to escape. You managed to run away a few times. The first time, you went straight to the police station and tried telling them that Ward was keeping you trapped in his home. Of course they didn’t believe you. Instead, they called Ward to come pick you up. He told the police that you’ve been experiencing delusions since the death of your brother. Without a second thought, they believed him and ignored your cries for help completely. The second time, you tried going to Kie’s, but the police found you first and brought you back to Ward’s now that they think you’re going through some kind of mental breakdown. 

By now, you’re exhausted. You’re tired of fighting and arguing and screaming. You feel empty inside, craving some sort of release or embrace of comfort. You haven’t seen your Pogues in weeks, maybe months. You wonder if they still think about you. Do they blame you for leaving John B to go off by himself with Sarah? Do they hate you?

Not only is living inside an enclosed box hard enough, but dealing with the loss of your brother, friend, and father, is killing you inside. You can’t help but feel guilty that you weren’t with them. You and your brother were supposed to be partners in crime and you totally let him go off on his own. You feel like you abandoned him and that keeps you up at night. 

Since your ways of coping are limited, you’re not proud to say you found an unhealthy way of relieving your pain. 

When you were first locked up, you would scream and kick the door that hid you from the rest of the world, begging for anyone in the house to let you go. Never did it work, but one time Rafe got extremely fed up and raced upstairs to make you shut up. You didn’t know it, but Rafe was on the verge of a breakdown himself. His dad complete shut him out as he tried to fix the damage he caused. He assumed Sarah was dead. And Barry basically owned him, making him do all his dirty work. Maybe he deserved it, but he didn’t live a luxurious life either despite living in Figure Eight.

You took a couple steps back when you heard heavy footsteps approaching your door. Rafe quickly undid the locks and barged in so fast that he almost knocked you down. 

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe was breathing hard and quickly getting red in the face. You stumbled backwards, suddenly afraid of being alone with him. 

You sniffled. “I need to get out of here.”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Please, Rafe. You got to get me out of here. Please!” You never thought you’d be here, begging Rafe of all people for help. Yet here you were. With no other choices left.

Rafe paced the room and raked his fingers through his hair. “You do realize you're not the only one going through something, right?”

You swallowed back your tears and scoffed at the Kook in front of you. “Seriously? Your family is keeping me locked in here like some kind of zoo animal! My brother is dead -”

“Sarah is too!”

“But that’s not my fault!” You screamed. You pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “That’s yours!” Rafe froze and turned to look at you. You didn’t know where you grew the balls to keep going but you did. “I know what you did. I know what your dad is trying to cover up. And he’s using my brother to do it.” You saw Rafe’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Why do you think your dad is keeping me locked in here?”

“Shit,” Rafe cursed. Now he knew why his dad gave him strict instructions to never come up to your room. He started shaking his his head and shaking in his skin. “I didn’t mean to - I - I - it happened so fast.”

You could go on and on about how Rafe would never be able to dig himself out of this hole. How he will never be able to convince you that he wasn’t guilty. But you didn’t. Because he’s the only one who could help you.

“Rafe, please,” You begged. “I won’t say anything. I just need to get out of here.”

Rafe sniffled back his own tears and fears and looked out the one window that looked out into the backyard of his home. He couldn’t let you go. He knew it was selfish, but he had to save himself. 

“I can’t,” Rafe said.

A new wave of tears hit you and you felt defeated. You fell back on your bed and cried into your hands, hunched over above your knees. 

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, but his apology was as empty as you feel. 

“Just go,” You rubbed your eyes hard enough to see stars. 

You hear something light hit the bed next to you. “I know it’s not much. But this helps me get through all this messed up shit.”

When you didn’t look at him or whatever he gave you, he took that as a hint to leave and quietly left the room. You listened to each lock being fastened again, each one leaving a crack in your heart. 

Rafe offered you something you should have never taken. A small baggie filled with fine white powder. You should have never even considered it. Drugs were never your thing. You wouldn’t even smoke with JJ when he offered a hit of whatever he was smoking. But the idea of anything taking your pain away enticed you.

And that’s how you ended up here. Broken, alone, and craving something only Rafe could supply you with. Literally. He came around every so often, sliding a small baggie under the door for you. It was the closest thing you and Rafe had to a friendship. 

Today was particularly a bad day. It was dark and rainy outside and you remembered John B’s birthday should be quickly approaching. You missed him. God, did you miss him. You would do anything to hear his voice again or steal his clothes or go surfing in the ocean with him. 

You trudged out of bed towards your dresser that held a faint line of coke left over from yesterday. With a one dollar bill, you sniffed the rest of it up your nose and blinked back the sting of tears that pricked your eyes after you did it. A rush of energy sparked up your body, through your toes and up to your head. You immediately felt lighter and that the world was spinning a little faster. But with that rush came a surge of emotions. You went from being sad to being angry real fast. 

You hated Ward. You hated Shoupe. You hated this house.  You hated Kooks. You hated yourself. You hated everything about the Outer banks. You just wanted to leave. 

You find the closest thing to you, a small makeup mirror, and smash it against one of the locks on the door. You’ve done this hundreds of times and by now the door was scratched and bruised from your abuse, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel the glass of the mirror slice into your skin as you continued to bang it on the metal lock. You didn’t care if Ward and the others heard you throwing another temper tantrum. You just wanted out.

When you felt the lock stumble to the side of the door, you froze in your place. You stared at the broken lock, wondering if this was all a dream or a hallucination from your high. “No fucking way,” You mumbled. You looked down at the door knob and repeated the same movements until the handle completely fell off and clattered to the floor. 

You dropped the mirror and stuck two fingers through the hole in the door where the door knob use to be. While holding your breath, you slowly pulled the door open and couldn’t believe when it moved without any hiccup. 

You never thought that you would get this far, and now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. You felt scared. Cautiously, you stuck your head out to make sure no one was in the hallway. When the coast was clear, you tip toed throughout the house, listening to the eery silence that filled it. No one was home. 

When you passed Rafe’s room, you stopped. You were out of supply and you needed more. Rafe owed you anyway, you told yourself. So you ransacked his room. Found about four more small baggies and stuffed them in your pocket before leaving.

As you walk through the halls, you pass Ward’s office and paused. It was open and unlocked. Even before all this shit happened, you never remember it being this way. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the adrenaline from another escape attempt or maybe it was the cocaine, but you walked yourself into that office and looked around. 

You cursed at all the accomplishments hanging on his wall, the trophies, and expensive relics of random shit. His desk was neat and orderly despite the major crime he was trying to cover up. You sat yourself in his chair, trying to imagine what it felt like to be him. Motherfucker probably felt like a king. 

You went through his drawers, thumbing through random files you had no business looking through - most of it work related stuff and banking information. You tucked that one in your pocket for later. 

Then you hear something thump against the drawer when you pull it out. A revolver. Small and silver. Cold against your fingertips. You breath hitched as you brought it up to your face. It felt like you were holding a bomb. An object that could change your life forever. Another fresh set of tears threatened to roll down your face but you shook them away. No. No more being sad. 

You shut the drawer hard and walked out with a couple new items in your possession.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Pogues were spending another dreary day at The Wreck. The September sun might be out, but their spirits were down. Two of their best friends are dead and the other is trapped with two murderers. They were scared for you and have tried everything to get you back. They tried talking to the cops, they tried breaking her out. But each times the cops got in the way. They were running out of hope. At this point, they didn’t even know if they would ever see you again. They just hoped you were okay. They knew you tried escaping a few times and prayed that you would eventually get yourself out of there soon.

“JJ, you gotta eat,” Kie sighed as she watched JJ play with the fries in front of him. If anyone was handing it the worst, it was JJ. Both John B and Y/N were his best friends first. Hell, he was in love with Y/N. Had been since the sixth grade. One of his biggest regrets is that he never told you. Now he didn’t know if he ever would. 

“’M not hungry,” JJ mumbled. 

The door above the restaurant entrance rang as a couple of police officers walked in for their lunch break. The group of three glared at them as they walked in with their cocky stride and their hand resting on their tasers and guns as if everyone should be scared of them. 

“Fucking cops can’t do their goddamn job,” JJ sat back in his seat and flicked one of his fries down on the table. He hated them. More than he ever had. He couldn’t believe these people took an oath to protect this county. Fucking cowards, all of them. 

“Fucking assholes,” Kie said and watched her father approach them with a friendly smile. 

Pope snapped up when an idea popped into his head. “Sarah’s sister.”

“What?” Kie’s brows furrowed. 

“School starts next week,” Pope explained. “She’s starting high school, right? What if you tried talking to her? Maybe you can -”

Pope paused when he heard the sound of the police radios echoing off the walls from their belts. 

“Code10-92. Runaway teen last reported on Baker’s Street. Proceed with caution. Last seen wearing black sports shorts and a white tank. Suspect may be armed and dangerous.”

JJ’s head snapped back to his friends with his brows pinched together. Could this be you? Could you have made it out again? But what did armed and dangerous mean? That didn’t sound like you.

Shoupe radioed back to the station. “On our way.”

The officers dropped ten dollars in the tip jar before charging out the door to go to their vehicles. 

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up first and stuffed his phone and keys into his pocket. The other two nod and follow him out the door. If that call was about you, they wanted to find you before the cops did. “Okay. Kie, go home. She tried going to your house last time. Maybe she’ll try that again. Pope, go to Heyward’s. She trusts your dad. She might try to find him for help.”

“Where are you going to go?” Pope asked. 

“Everywhere else.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trudged through your old home with heavy feet. Nothing in there felt familiar to you - like it belonged to you in another life time. You first went to your room and stared at the girl in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Bones sticking out of your skin, dark bags under the eyes, and cracked lips and dry skin. 

Without thinking, you took the gun that’s still in your hand and smashed it against the glass, shattering it all around you. 

Ignoring the stinging in your hands from the shallow cuts on your skin, you moved on to the next room. Your brother’s room. It looked like a tornado made its way through here. Everything was tossed and turned from the police and FBI ransacking it during their search for John B. Nothing felt like it was John B’s anymore. Nothing felt private. And that pissed you off. 

Next you went to your dad’s office, somewhere you haven’t been since you found the compass. Even now, it felt like you weren’t supposed to be in here. If you believed in an afterlife, you would think your dad would be shaking his head at you. 

The office looked like John B’s room did. Whatever belonged to your dad now belonged to the state. The only things left were random files and belongings the police didn’t find of importance. But they were important to you. 

The first thing you found was a picture in a cracked frame of you, your dad, and your brother from when you were ten. Your dad was holding both of you as you blew out the candles on a birthday cake. Looking at the picture, you felt your heart being shredded apart. The picture only brought back pain and grief. You wanted that happiness back that ten year old you portrayed in that picture. But you can’t have it. Ever again.

A cry ripped through your throat as you chucked the picture across the room. From there, you went on a rampage, throwing and kicking anything that was in your way. You took one of the baggies out of your pocket and dumped it on the desk in front of you. Without any precision, you fixed the lines up with your finger and took a long whiff. You gripped the roots of your hair and tugged as you sobbed loudly and felt one of the biggest headaches explode in your brain. 

You paced back and forth in the office with the gun held in your shaky hands. You were mumbling to yourself about your options and how horrible of a sister and daughter you were for leaving your family behind. You wanted to see them. You wanted to be with them and prove to them you never meant to abandon them. 

You didn’t hear the door to the Chateau open or the sound of footsteps following your cries. It wasn’t until you heard his soft, delicate voice that you turned around and stared at your best friend with wide eyes and a startled expression. 

“Y/N...” JJ breathed out. He didn’t see the gun yet. He just saw you, crying and broken and not looking like the girl he knew only a few months ago. 

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t recognize your voice either. Hoarsed and scared. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“The cops are looking for you! Okay? We need to get you out of here!”

“I’m not leaving!”

“What?” JJ looked at you like you grew two heads. “What are you talking about. We -”

“No! I said I’m not leaving! Agh!” Your hands flew up to your pulsating head and gripped at your hair again. The pounding in your head was excruciating and wouldn’t go away. Between the cocaine, your cries, and the exhaustion, you didn’t think it would ever go away. 

That’s when JJ saw the gun and took a shocking step back. His hands immediately flew up in surrender and he gulped down his nerves. Now he knew why the cops had called you armed and dangerous. Probably because Ward reported a stolen gun. JJ never knew you to be a violent person. It wasn’t in you. You couldn’t even hurt a fly. Which meant you didn’t steal this gun to hurt someone else. But probably...

Then his eyes flickered to the desk where he saw the reside of white powder next to an empty baggie. Now he was petrified because he didn’t know how to get through to you - if he even could get through to you.

“Y/N, baby. Put the gun down.”

“No,” You shook you head. “No, no, no. I need to see them. I need to see my dad and John B!”

“Y/n...”

“I should’ve gone with them. I should’ve - I - I didn’t mean to leave. I’m so-sorry, John B. I’m so sorry.” You were a mess. Tears and snot and running all over your red and puffy face. 

JJ kept looking between you and the gun. His only comfort was that he knew you didn’t know how to use it. You wouldn’t even touch the one he stole from Scooter Grubs. But that didn’t mean accidents couldn’t happen.

“I can’t do it anymore,” You continued. “I can’t go back there. I won’t. I won’t. I just want to see my dad.”

JJ took a hesitant step closer to you and nodded his head, keeping his hands up. “Okay. Okay. What if I helped you see your dad?”

“H-How?” You hiccuped. JJ didn’t know where he was going with this. He just knew he had to get that gun out of your hand. He took another step closer to you, but this one made you jump back. “No! No! Stay away!”

“Okay, okay!” JJ yelled back at you. “Hey. I’m here to help you, okay? Whatever you want to do.”

“I want to see them. I want to say sorry. I - I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, they’re not mad at you-”

“I’m sorry, daddy, I -”

With you distracted, JJ took the opportunity to run at you and tackle you to the ground. He ignored the pang in his heart when he heard you cry harder, wondering if he hurt you, but he cared more about keeping you alive. He wrestled the gun out of your hands and quickly emptied the cartridge. He chucked the multiple pieces across the room and wrapped himself around your crumpled body.

“No! No!” You shrieked in JJ’s shoulder and gripped onto his shirt for dear life. “Please! Let me go!” 

JJ held on to your crumbling body as you wracked with sobs. Exhaustion quickly took over you as the adrenaline slowly vanished out of your system. Your throat was on fire from all the crying and the screaming. Your chest felt empty and your lungs heavy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and never open them again.

JJ couldn’t hold back his own silent tears as they ran down his cheeks. He hated seeing you like this. And he hated even more that he didn’t know how to help you.

“It’s going to be okay,” He said as he brushed the hair out of your face. He kissed the top of your head with his soft lips and kept mumbling into your head. “You’re going to be okay. I’m never leaving your side again. It’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t know if he was trying to convince you or himself. He jus knew he had to make you believe it.

About ten minutes later, he felt your body relax against his. When he found you fast asleep, he pulled out his phone and texted Kie to pick the two of you up. 

Until Kie got there, he stared at the delicate skin on your face with such admiration. Rage bubbled through this veins as the ideas of what you possibly went through in the that hell hole in Figure Eight. 

He knew it was going to be a long road to recovery. He knew there was a lot of fixing that needed to be done. But he made a promise that he will never let you out of his sights again. Because today was a close call. And he never wanted you to be that close to death ever again.

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

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Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I Wish I Could Leave This Alone (I Know How Much You Want Me To)

Babe Heffron x Reader (plus guest) One Shot

Summary: Babe’s birthday gift to you has an unexpected party crasher

Warnings: smut, angst, infidelity (?), reader overthinking while getting dicked down, I wrote this and immediately posted it so it will be edited at some point

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babe’s kiss was soft, but his touch was not.

 You couldn’t help the groan that escaped from the back of your throat as one of his hands gripped tightly at your hip, and when he smiled against your lips you couldn’t help but feel like you’d had done something to amuse him.

 “What?” you pant, leaning back at the waist to break the kiss and frowning at his smirk. 

 He chuckled warmly as he walked you backward towards your bed, the hand at your hip finding its way under your shirt and up against your sternum.

 “Where’d you go, Gorgeous?” he asked playfully, and you immediately felt guilty. 

He was right, you’d gone somewhere else for a while. That wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. And while he was quick to call you out on it, he never seemed to truly take offense to it. You weren't sure what that said about him. Or you, for that matter.

You shake your head and bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, lightly tracing your nails across the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. “Started getting a bit ahead of myself, that’s all.” 

 Pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, you use your position to slide your hand down the front of his trousers and cup him through his boxers.

“You forgot to breathe,” he mumbles, his voice slow and distracted. “Can’t have you blacking out and embarrassing yourself like that—Woah.” 

 A smile of your own breaking across your face, you nose at him until he brings his mouth to yours again, making a show of inhaling sharply as the backs of your knees hit the bed.

 “Good note,” you say breathily as you pull his shirt up his back, giggling idiotically as he intentionally gives you a hard time of it. Your shirt doesn’t last long either, and with a practiced ease, you have each other stripped and bare in the blueish darkness of your barrack.

 He isn’t gentle when his hands grip your bare skin, his movements excited and rough as he settles against the headboard and pulls you up to straddle his lap.

 “I remembered, by the way.”

 Taking his face in your hands, you hold him away to study him, confusion marring your constantly furrowed brow. “Remembered…?”

 His eyes are aglow in the dark, so amber and warm that they reminded you of the spiced ciders your family would make during the holidays back home. A wicked smile crosses his face, and he chuckles quietly.

 “I told you what knowing my middle name would cost you when you asked me last month, and the information I wanted in return. And I told you I wouldn’t forget…”

The cogs clicked in your head, and you made a sound of upset when you figured out what he was talking about. 

 Detail for detail, that’s the deal, Sweetcheeks.

 “Happy Birthday, Sargent Y/N.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you booed him quietly.

 “What are the odds a blowjob will make you forget about it?” you ask with a wince, gasping when he playfully rolled his hips up to meet yours. Feeling how hard he was made your blood begin to run hotter.

 “Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward to suck a kiss on the delicate skin beneath your collarbone. “Somewhere between none and slim.”

 With an annoyed hum, you lean your head forward to rest atop his head and let him mouth at you, your hand coming up to pull at his hair only when you knew he was intentionally trying to leave a mark. 

 “And do you remember what I said I wanted to give you for your birthday?”

 Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you realized that you could only sit in hot embarrassment as he laughed at you again.

 “Such a prim and proper lady, scandalized by the idea of riding my face—”

 “Edward!” you hissed, hands that once held his face now pushing it away. “Don’t say it like that, come on—”

 The auburn-haired man laughed, catching your wrists and pulling you into his chest. you grunted with frustration, your face now pressed against the hollow of his throat.

 “It’s not like my mouth hasn’t been down there before, you know.”

 Sighing, you let yourself sag into him slightly, trying not to lose yourself in his lighthearted tone.

 “Yeah, but not like that, when I’m just…you know.”

 “Oh I see, you like it better when I do all the work and you get to take the princess position, huh?”

 “Jesus Christ, Babe” you sit up again with a huff, attempting to pull your wrists back from his unyielding grip. “I try to be serious for one fucking second….”

 Rolling his eyes, he surges up and kisses you sweetly, and for a minute you feel yourself begin to slip out of your body again.

But he brings you back. He always brings you back to him and here and now.

 “C’mon, Sweet Thing…” he croons shamelessly against your lips, rough hands releasing your wrists and sliding teasingly up and down your thighs. The touch has you trembling in his lap, and he’s kissing you before you can be too embarrassed. “If you hate it, I’ll stop and you can fucking edge me until I blackout, I swear to god. You gotta let me see you like this, Y/N. Please, Gorgeous…?”

Good GOD he was shameless, literally begging you to allow him the chance to make you feel good, to show you how good he can make you feel- how much he wanted to be the one to do it to you first.

 Anticipation was knotted in your throat as you smashed your lips to his, a flutter of heady resolve resting in your belly. As if he could taste what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your mouth.

 “God, you’re so perfect...” he pulled you into him, rolling his hips in a way that seemed to remind you of the urgency you both had felt before. 

When he pulls back this time he’s grinning at you like a complete idiot, happier than any man should be at the prospect of cunnilingus, in your opinion.

 But Edward Heffron was nothing if not enthusiastic in his pursuits.

 “Hands on the windowsill,” he said breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink and making you want to kiss him again. When you didn’t follow his request quickly enough he guided your hands there himself and folded your fingers around the frame of the open window. 

 You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been thinking about this, or will I be insulted?”

 He smacks your thigh lightly, drawing a surprised yelp from your lungs that melts into a hum of amusement as he kneads the reddening flesh.

 “How about we err on the side of caution and say….. just within the past few months?”

 “And you held me in the highest regard before that- right, Private?”

 He says nothing for a moment, and when he does agree to your proposed question he mumbles it into the valley between your breasts.

 “Hmph. You’re a terrible liar. This had better be worth it.”

 Seemingly satisfied with your ability to keep your hands where he set them, Babe encourages you to rise up to your knees so you’re no longer flush in his lap. Immediately, his eyes flick down to your sex, and you cannot help the way your thighs start to shake

 He says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before he looks back at your face and his expression softens for a second.

 “Remember what I said earlier? I mean it, you know I mean it—”

 You’re nodding before he can finish the sentiment, letting a soft smile play at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop. Promise.”

 With one more biting kiss to the middle of your chest he brings his assault downwards with hands, lips, and teeth- his touch just the right amount of hard and teasing to send your head swimming long before you finally feel his breath on the overly-sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

 “Oh fuck,” he sounds far away, but maybe that’s just because you’re feeling too big for your own body at the moment. “Could die happy here…”

God, he’s such a whore.

 The first touch of his tongue has you pitching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you let your face poke out the window enough to feel the breeze on your clammy face. 

 Shit, he was good at that- it felt so good. If you didn't have your own goddamn skeletons in your proverbial closet you may have even been jealous to think of all the other women who had been privy to this most spectacular consideration. Babe was kissing you down there just as sweetly as he had ever kissed your lips, and it made you briefly wonder if anyone else from your past could have made you feel as high as he was making you feel right now.

 Bowing your head to look down at him, your breath catching at the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs, his arms folded around your hips to control the small jumps you couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

 “Fuck, Babe!” you bite out, the idea of him looking up your body and watching you squirm threatening to overwhelm you. “Can’t fucking do that, ‘s gross angle for me…”

 “Oh?” he said, the sound and feeling of his voice running up your body in the most sinful way. “I beg to differ...”

 Knowing that watching him watch you would ultimately be too much, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and lift your head to look back out the window into the night air.

 Only to come face to face with Ronald Speirs.

 A sound of surprise, shock, embarrassment, and panic got caught in your throat alongside your cresting moan and resulted in the most depraved cry that seemed to surprise all three of you.

 Your blood boiled as it froze in your veins as you made eye contact with Speirs, mortification and utter shock leaving your mouth hanging open in a silent shriek of horror.

 You had no idea how long the other man had been standing there, but if the look in his eyes was any indication it had been long enough to know exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall, just below the window frame. A cigarette hung forgotten between his lips as he openly stared at you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed silently.

 When Babe’s hand came up to squeeze your breast enticingly, you nearly jumped out the window. 

 Oh my God This can’t be happening right now I have to stop him Oh fucking hell….

 Your head whipped down and he looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth red and damp as he panted wickedly up at you. “You okay, Gorgeous?”

 A crushing realization fell onto you in that very moment: there was no way you could tell him what was happening- who was there watching your shared private moment outside. Because that would mean that you’d have to explain that Ron always did this, that every night he would smoke near wherever you were sleeping that night and keep watch like a possessive and protective shadow. 

 And the only way you could explain that was by telling Babe about what you and Ron had once had- no, almost had. He rejected you, you reminded yourself harshly. He made his stance on you abundantly clear when he’d had you transferred into Easy Company. The fact that Speirs still behaved as if he was somehow responsible for you was not your problem.

 Besides, you had Babe. You wanted Babe. Even if the ache in your heart tried to tell you differently.

 You made your peace with Ron Speirs’ rejection a long time ago.

 Not trusting your voice, you nod vehemently and hope what is happening outside isn’t clearly written on your face. 

 A smug grin stretches across his face. “Good, ‘cause you taste better than I imagined…..”

 You curse as he pulls you back down to his mouth, your head flashing back up to see that Ron has gotten rid of his cigarette and shucked off his heavy coat and gun. His dark eyes look downright predatory, and if you had any sense in your sex-dumb head you would stop this debauchery and transfer somewhere far away from the both of them.

 You open your mouth to do something, anything to save yourself some dignity in this fucking exhibitionist nightmare, but Speirs’s finger flies up to his lips, the command clear even through the darkness.

 You knew this would happen eventually something in his gaze seemed to accuse. Did you really believe you could forget who you’re wishing was beneath you?

 But as you watch him tilt his head, something else is conveyed: he’s asking for permission. 

 He didn’t intend to leave. He wanted to watch.

But he would, if you wanted him to.

 It was cruel of him, and something in the way he worked his jaw told you that he knew it too, but like you he was too far gone to stop it. 

 You both know better, each of you having your own reasons for not wanting to inevitably hurt the other and cross that line. Your own sick, backwards ways of self-protection and showing affection for the other seemed to be twisting and becoming more complex as time went on. 

The more involved you became with Babe….Ron suddenly wanted to be your friend again just after you had first slept with Babe.

 You immediately understood that you and Ron were nearing your final days of dancing around each other, that you would have to be the one to stop it. Because Edward Heffron was too good and too kind to be fucked with like this. Eventually, you would have to stop being so selfish.

 In a final show of weakness, you nod silently to Ron, your breath coming in quick bursts as your lover has patiently worked you up and up to the crest of your crescendo, none the wiser to the wicked thoughts and realizations spinning around in your head. 

 I really am a monster.

 But you couldn’t focus on that right now, not as Ron stalked right up to the window with such confidence that you thought you had gravely misread the situation and he was going to announce himself to Babe. 

 You had just begun to make a hush of protest when his cold hands gripped yours and he knelt down so he was nose to nose with you, his hot glare turning it into another embarrassing sound of pleasure.

 “Shit!” You whimpered, your body trembling more violently as the coil in your belly began to constrict. Ron’s thumbs rubbed the back of your knuckles in a soothing motion as he made a sound of pity low in his throat, the clucking of his tongue quiet enough that it disappeared in the sounds of the forest surrounding them. 

When you get a better look at his face you can see his look of empathy is almost mocking, and you briefly wonder if you would ever have sex with someone who didn’t like to antagonize you the whole time.

 As you try to pull your hands out from under his, he shakes his head sternly before wrestling them into his grip, the action pulling you slightly further out the window and making you gasp.

Babe chuckles and grips your ass to control the speed in which your hips rocked, a nibble on your clit nearly making you scream.

 You’re a terrible person. You’re the worst kind of woman. you hate yourself for this.

 Ron’s brows furrow and his face goes soft, eyes a warm burn rather than a vengeful inferno. You don’t realize you have begun crying until he brushes the tears from your cheeks with quick fingers.

You press your forehead against his as your body bows in warning, your orgasm approaching with unforgiving intensity. 

 Ron doesn’t kiss you and you don’t kiss him. You never had and after this long, you don't think you ever will. You hate how much you wished you could though.

Especially with another man’s tongue working you into a frenzy at the same fucking time.

 “Please, I want you...” you said pathetically, and Ron had the grace to look down in shame. Guilty fingers intertwined with yours and with a sad grimace he kissed the backs of your hands.

 “I know you do, I’m so sorry,” he breathes across your knuckles, tongue darting out to wet the chilling skin where he kissed, kissing your hand as he had wished to kiss your mouth each and every day since he had met you. 

 But you couldn’t, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let you ever try.

 You came with a silent cry, only the whispered reminder from both of the men you loved to breathe saved you from falling apart in the most critical moment.

 Because you are cruel you take one hand from Ron, the one he wasn’t kissing, and pull it back. 

 Babe’s overgrown hair is soft and damp as you reach down to rake your fingers through it, quickly finding his hand on your hip and clinging to his fingers with painful desperation as you quake above him.

Pulling you impossibly close to his mouth, Babe holds you as you tremble through the last of your pleasure, suckling once, twice more before noisily pulling away from you. 

 The sound was so lewd even Ron had to close his eyes and grit his teeth in order to stay quiet.

your hair clung to your face, and after sliding his fingers from yours Ron brushes the sweaty strands around your hairline.

 As you begin to catch your breath, you remember who you are, who all you’re with, and all that’s brought each of you to this point. You remember that Ron Speirs has to go, will always have to go. 

 He didn’t want you to be his,  wasn’t interested in sharing his barracks or you asking him about his past or remembering your birthday. You didn’t matter, none of this did. 

 All that mattered to him was the fight. The big picture. “We’re all already dead. Why bother acting like this is anything other than a distraction?”

 “Y/N,” Babe’s gentle kisses land on your hips and you realize that the time for your decision is coming sooner than she had anticipated. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 You take a few more shuddering breaths with Ron, and from the way he tightened his jaw you knew he knew that you were going to have to let one of them go. And, because he’s just as selfish as you are, he doesn’t want you to choose Babe. 

 He’d rather keep you like a lark he can turn to for reassurance and comfort. Like a bird in a cage.

 With a final sniffle, you look down, away from Ron, and give all of your attention to the beautiful, sex-mussed man who was looking up at you so sweetly and with such a clear desire for approval that you almost started crying all over again.

 Ron lets you slip your fingers from his and takes a silent step back as you return your attention to your lover. You let him disappear into the night.

 “Nothing at all, Babe,” you reassure him with a sigh, moving shakily down his body so you can kiss him as deeply as you can, sealing your body to his as you hold his face between your hands. “I just forgot where I was for a second there.”

 Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits until you pull back before smiling stupidly at you.

“That good, huh?”

 Shaking your head, you scoff and flick his chest. As he starts to chuckle, you roll yourself off of him enough to scratch your nails lightly across his stomach.

 “I’ll give you a full review after round two, how about that?” You smirk as his eyebrows shoot up, sitting up and swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “But right now, how about I reward the idiot I love for remembering my birthday?”

 If he’s surprised by your sudden proclamation of affection, he makes no show of it. And somehow that makes the moment all the sweeter.

~ ~

(HELLO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE FIC I LOVE YALL COVID IS A BITCH! I’M CURRENTLY WORKING ON THREE FICS SO HOPEFULLY THEY WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY! OKAY BYE BYE MY GORGEOUS GEODUCKS!)

taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber​ @tvserie-s-world​

[disasterofastory]

Spring (Ivar x Reader)

Spring modern!Ivar x Reader Warnings: smut

We decided to deep-clean and declutter our entire apartment, can’t be too embarrassing what we find, right? - from THIS prompt list

Spring is your favorite season. The weather gets better, you can change your winter clothes, and you can buy fresh flowers to decorate the small flat you live in with your housemate, Ivar. The sun is already up when you go to work and still shines when you go home after a long day. For you, this is the season you can start with a new page and not New Year as for the others. The first thing you do when the spring comes is deep-clean the entire house. You wash down the windows, move the furniture to clean under them and declutter everything you do not need anymore. When you are done, the whole apartment is clean and smells good.

Ivar loves it.

But he hates it if he has to help you.

“Your room is the next,” you tell him, placing your hand on your hip. You look around the kitchen and living room with a satisfied but tired sigh. Everything is in order, and you love the feeling you get from it. You changed the pillowcases, vacuumed the couch and everything you could after you scrubbed down the whole kitchen. The air smells like furniture cleaner with a pine scent in it. “We don’t have to,” he tells you, standing up from the sofa. “I can do it myself.” “Don’t be silly. I can help,” you smile. “It will be faster.” “Y/N! Seriously, I don’t need your help.” “I know you don’t need it, but I’m glad to help,” you answer stubbornly, moving into his room. He follows you with an annoyed sigh. His dark hair is tied in a bun, and his green shirt and sweatpants are dusty from cleaning. You open the window to let in some fresh air and go to his wardrobe while he sits down on his bed. “Y/N…” Ivar starts again, but you don’t let him argue anymore. “Sort out the clothes you need,” you tell him, and he has no other choice but obey.

Living with Ivar is much easier than a few years ago. When you moved in, he was rude and avoided you. You had to be stubborn and shameless to accept you as his friend. Since then, you met his family, you even celebrated a few holidays with him, and you were there for him when he broke up with Freydis. You know his moodiness and his sometimes spiteful nature, and you learned to handle it.

“I can’t believe it. It’s Sunday, and I have to clean,” he grunts, moving to his bookshelf to continue the work. “You can rest the whole week next week. We don’t work, remember?” You can smell his cologne, putting down the used sheets to wash it later. “We should turn the mattress over,” you tell him, leaning down to grab it. “Y/N! Wait! No!” He yells, but it’s too late. At first, you don’t even know why he is so upset about it and what do you hold in your hands. Then you look at it better. It’s lacy and red. And it’s yours. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t utter a word out. “Get out!” Ivar shouts at you. His face is red from anger and embarrassment. “Leave!”

You run out of his room with your panties between your hands. His door bangs loudly behind you, and you jump from the noise. You move back to your room, closing the door before you sit down on the bed. Your head is full of thoughts. You are afraid to think why it was in his room, but at the same time, it makes you… excited. With a heavy sigh, you fall back on your pillows, staring up to the ceiling.

The next week is hard. Ivar avoids you, and you avoid him too. The only way you know he is home because you hear his crutches outside your room. You imagine a million and one conversations with him, but you are not brave enough to make the first move. You know he is angry, embarrassed, and humiliated, but you are those things too! What if the only way to solve this to move out? Is your friendship over? Does he never want to talk with you again? It’s ridiculous that you are the one who feels bad when he is the pervert.

But…

You are a pervert too.

You imagined him laying on his bed with your panties in his hands, while with his other hand he… Yeah, you are in big trouble.

You spend your days in your room, till one morning you have enough of this. If it depends on Ivar, you two will never talk again. Still, in your pajamas with newfound bravery, you march over to his room without knocking. He jumps on his bed when you burst into the room and stare at him angrily. “Now what?” You ask him. “How long do you play this nonsense? You want me to move out?”

You are furious, but not because of the panties. And you feel like an idiot because of it. You are furious because you can lose Ivar. Yes, it's hard to deal with Ivar sometimes. He can be moody and angry for nothing, but at the same time, he can be attentive if he wants to. He always lets you watch your favorite series even if he wants to watch something else. He makes you coffee and breakfast if he knows you have to wake up early. Your whole relationship is about taking care of each other, even if it's hard at times.

“Y/N,” he says, you know he is suffering under your waiting gaze. “I don’t know what you are waiting for from me. I don’t know how I could make this right.” “An explanation, for example.” “I didn’t plan it,” he starts. “I helped you clean your room the other day, and before I knew it, I… stole your panties. I didn’t do anything with it, I promise! I wanted to bring it back, but you walked up and down in the house the whole day, and I couldn’t.” “But why?” You ask him, calmer this time. You sit down on his bed next to him. He still looks at you like a deer in the headlights. His hair is messy, and his face is flushed. “I…” he starts, licking his dry lips. “I love you, okay? I just didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I ruined it anyway, didn’t I?” “No,” you answer. “It was worst that I had to avoid you all week than… the panties.” “Please, tell me how I could make it right, and I will do it,” he begs you, placing his hand on yours, squeezing it. He can’t even look into your eyes as you stare at him, thinking.

He loves you…

“I tell you something,” you decide. “But you have to promise me whatever happens, you won’t get angry, and you won’t avoid me. You have to learn to communicate with me even if it’s hard or embarrassing.” “I promise,” he nods repeatedly. You lick your lips, before with a determined sigh, you lean closer to his ear. You support yourself on his bare chest, so you feel his heartbeat speeds up at your touch. “I imagined you several times this week,” you confess. Your voice is almost a whisper. “What?” He asks you, confused but intrigued. You feel powerful with the knowledge he loves you, and you want to enjoy this opportunity because you know Ivar. He can’t be long without control. “I imagined you, laying on this bed,” you start. “And jerking off with my panties around your cock.” You see his Adam’s apple jumping as he gulps with a quiet squeak. You almost laugh at his expression. He really looks like a deer in the headlight with his blue eyes and open mouth. “What?” He repeats it breathlessly. “Don’t say you didn’t imagine it,” you say, still smiling. “Don’t say you didn’t want to play with it while you touch yourself. You didn’t imagine me wearing it with the matching bra while I moan your name?” “Don’t play with me,” he begs. He still can’t believe it's really happening. The woman he loves is almost on top of him, telling him things to get him aroused.

He loves you for a long time now. At first, it started as a crush while he was with Freydis. He found your perfume sweet, and he always liked your laugh. His feelings grew and grew till he couldn't deny them anymore. He broke up with Freydis, but he never had enough bravery to confess his love for you. And he definitely never imagined it like this.

“I don’t,” you promise him more seriously, caressing his blushed cheek. “I can’t think of anyone else but you, since the… you know, panties-incident.” “Oh, Gods!” He closes his eyes, cringing. “Can you not tell it like this again?” “Oh, come on!” You laugh. “I want to see it.” “See what?” He asks you. “Touching yourself with my panties around you,” you confess, biting your lip. Ivar stares into your eyes for a few seconds, thinking you joke with him, but when he sees you are serious, he gulps and nods. “Give me what you wear,” he orders you, and you almost squeal from happiness. You already feel damp between your legs as you stand up to take off your clothes. You try to lengthen the process and give him a show as you take off your pajamas and finally your panties. You see his hand shaking as he reaches out for it, and you let him take it. You climb above his knees carefully. Your legs spread a little, enough for him to see your wetness while you watch him pushing down his grey pants to free himself.

His whole body shakes from excitement. You are his dream girl, and now you are here above him, naked and waiting.

He places your black laced panties around his erection, and you moan just from the sight. His breath gets heavier and heavier as he moves his hand up and down on his shaft. His muscles tense on his stomach and his arms flex from his movements. “Play with yourself,” he says huskily. His blue eyes stare at your naked form. You reach down between your legs and give him a show, circling your waist as your fingers move. With your other hand, you start to massage one of your breasts, and the only reason you don’t close your eyes from the pleasure because you can’t look away from Ivar’s member. He is hard and ready. Your panties move up and down under his touch. After a few minutes like this, you lean down to his cock and start to jerk him off yourself before you take him in your mouth. He is warm, and your eyes almost roll back to your head at the feeling. Your ears ring from his hoarse moans, and you speed up your pace to hear it again. He grabs your hair, your scalp burns as he pushes you down on him more till he hits your throat. “Gods, Y/N!” He shouts in ecstasy. You look up at him under your eyelashes. “Come here,” he orders. You move up to him, paying attention to his legs. One of his arms goes around your back to pull you closer to him while the other one grabs your breast to his mouth. He licks and bites your nipple to his heart content and moves his hand down to your pussy. You massage his scalp as you try to stay in place, but you can’t stay like this any longer, and he knows it. “Ride me,” he says, letting you go. You move above his manhood and slowly sink down on him. You both moan at the feeling, and for a few minutes, neither of you move. He enjoys your warm tightness while you try to memorize the fullness you feel in yourself. “You are beautiful,” he sighs, staring at you. His foggy eyes jump from your eyes to your moaning mouth and down on your whole body, and he stops on your joined parts.

He knows he can never forget this sight and feeling. You look beautiful above him and around him. Your hair is disheveled, and your eyes shine with pleasure. Your thighs flex as you move, and your breasts jump up and down with your rhythm. He feels your weight on his chest as you lean on him. His skin is red in the wake of your nails.

“I love you,” he says between two grunts, grabbing your hips. “I love you too,” you moan, leaning more on him to kiss his lips for the first time. The kiss is messy as you still move up and down on him but enough for him to cum. You move back up to your original position, reaching down between your legs to speed up your pleasure. Your whole body is shaking and tingling as you lay down next to Ivar with his help. “You meant it?” He asks you softly, cuddling you to his body while you caress his chest after a few minutes. “That you love me?” “Yes,” you smile at him. “I really love you.” “I love you too.”

[babybluebex]

vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

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

March 10, 1935

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This?” Bucky asked. 

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

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

“Anything,” you agreed. 

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

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

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

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

March 10, 1942

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re corny,” you laughed. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 10, 1943

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We?” Steve asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 10, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or baking,” Steve added. 

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

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

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

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped. 

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled. 

“Punk.” 

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

And they were gone. 

March 10, 1949

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just me,” Bucky whispered. 

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

“The arm?” Bucky asked. 

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

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked. 

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

[mishasminion360]

A Rose By Any Other Name

Marcus Moreno x fem!reader

Warnings: None! It’s fluff, pure and simple.

Summary: Marcus asks Missy to help him with a special task.

A/N: Thank you @lovelypastel2532 for another adorable ask 😁 I’m always astounded by the way your mind works. I’ll be forever in awe of the stories you think up.

“I will never understand why grown ups like playing in the dirt so much,” Missy huffs, dragging the heavy bag of mulch across the lawn.

“Because it’s fun,” Marcus insists, loosening the dirt with his trowel.

“Getting all dirty and smelly and gross is fun to you?”

“When did my daughter turn in to such a girl?” Marcus snorts.

He can practically hear Missy roll her eyes behind him.

“So, what do we do first?”

“First,” Marcus huffs, climbing to his feet and dusting off his hands, “we’re going to transplant the rose bushes.”

Missy hands him one of the plastic pots housing a spindly plant. The sorry looking thing only has one rose on it and it’s barely hanging on. The other plants look no better.

“They don’t really look like bushes, dad.”

“Not now, maybe,” he says, carefully extracting the plant, roots and all, from the store bought dirt. “But once it’s in the ground and gets a little TLC from the two of us I think it’ll surprise you.”

She follows her father’s lead, removing the soon-to-be bushes from their plastic casings—minding the thorns—and depositing them into the rich, fertile soil of the back yard, filling in the hole and tamping down the dirt.

Marcus gives the newly planted roses a generous watering with the hose before showing Missy how to spread the mulch.

“So, why red roses specifically?” she asks. “Why not white or pink?”

“Because red means ‘love’,” Marcus answers, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaving a streak of dirt behind. “That’s what I want: for this back yard to be filled with love.”

“You think she’ll be surprised?”

“I certainly hope so.”

***

When you step through the front door your family is nowhere to be seen, but you can certainly hear them just fine.

“Aaaahh! Dad, stop it!!”

You follow the sound of Missy’s shrieks to the back yard where you find Marcus spritzing his daughter evilly with the garden hose, a wicked grin on his face.

“What in the world is going on out here?”

They immediately cease their clowning at the sound of your voice.

“Um….surprise?”

You look past Missy and notice for the first time that the perimeter of the back yard has been lined with budding plants.

“Are those….?”

“Red roses,” Missy confirms. “For love.”

Marcus’s cheeks are as red as the small blooms speckling the freshly planted bushes.

“You were pretty adamant about having a simple outdoor wedding, so I wanted to make sure that the outdoors were beautiful for our big day. They’ll be full and blossoming by the day of the ceremony.”

“It’s perfect,” you breathe. “Absolutely perfect.”

You open your arms and gesture for them to bring it in, but they each take a hesitant step back.

“I’m filthy,” Marcus explains.

“Yeah, and I’m soaked,” Missy says, socking her dad on the arm as payback for his shenanigans.

Like you care.

You pull them into your waiting arms, dirt, sweat and all. They both smell so sweet. Just like roses.

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @mandolydian @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @pascalsky @pascalpanic @heythere-mel @healingstardust @pastel-0-princess @pedropascal207-deactivated20211 @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @kiizhikehn-cedar @hellovanessax @fangirling-alert @pedrocentric @fromthedeskoftheraven @feralhotmess @axshadows @mandapascal @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @anaaaispunk @spideysimpossiblegirl @pbeatriz-blog @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @foli-vora @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @bison-writes @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking 

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

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