#almost half a year later... my inbox is empty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ybklix · 5 months ago

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𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

★ pairing: artist ex bf!lee minho x fem!reader

✦summary: The time after a break-up is the worst, even more so when, without even asking, you become aware of all the things your former lover has done since you're not by his side. After avoiding Minho, the two of you meet again in the same place and time where it all started, just when you thought you had managed to erase his memories a little, you both find yourselves on an adventure trying to figure it out what really drove you apart.

✭ content - tags - warnings: angst, smut (fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie), cheating, use of nicknames, aftercare.

word count: 8.1k

masterlist

♡ request from anon, inspired by the song: we don’t talk anymore by you know who, I do not support him, never been a fan of his music either lol, I googled the lyrics just to be aware for the request heh + added inspo from the 2004 film, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

little playlist for full inspo w love (excluding c.p.th)

♡ notes: maniac pixie dream boy minho who changes his hair a lot like clementine. the mention of his hair colors are not chronologically accurate, just mention of them.

♡ TAGLIST FORMS - anon list open! my inbox is open 4 request if u want me to write smth, just specify it pls ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ and just be patient <3

dividers by peachesboard

You never understood breakups. They seemed completely absurd to you, why people would break up with a person you love to be with, why does love suddenly have to end? There was nothing good about not fighting and abandoning everything to start from scratch, being complete strangers who know each other quite well. Love is strange, as much as every personality inside each individual, there is no one who knows more about you than yourself; and you, you were never a true believer in love, you lived a silent life focused on your college career, your love fundamentals were not good references, your parents divorced when you were thirteen, realizing so many signs that your father had someone else, and for some strange reason your father talked to your older brother, who tearfully confessed to you that no matter if they were separated, he would always be there for you. Your mother remarried a year later and you decided to convince yourself that these are things that happen, divorces are so simple and common things that happen daily in thousands of marriages, you ignored your little trauma, you went to live with your mother changing your little preteen life and, just hitting your puberty and adolescence, you lived from home to home constantly, your mother would break up with her husband, and then they would get back togheter, in a vicious circle. Yet you couldn't deny that your parents's love was sincere, strange, but sincere and noticeable.

You finally settled in a fixed place when you started university, you were quiet so the city was never ideal for you, you hated crowded places and the constant noise, your parents helped you to stay in an apartment in the town, only 1 hour and a half from the city by train, making a long way to the university of over two hours, but you didn't mind, you loved your routine of going early every morning to take the first route and seeing the swiftness of the landscape through the window of the almost empty train, the people at the station knew you so well that they greeted you kindly, and you were happy with the little details that made up your little routine. As for relationships, it wasn't something you cared too much about, and for some strange reason, something that never happened to you, however, sometimes you felt lonely, but once again, you fell into the unexpected games of fate, finding love so unexpectedly when you didn't anticipate it.

Everything you knew about love - or what you thought you believed - changed when you met the one you thought was the love of your life. He changed your perspective completely, suddenly you wondered why people would want to separate from someone you love intensely and want to be with all the time. You almost believed it so strongly, until, as simple as stupid human nature, the relationship ended.

This particular morning, it reminded you so much of the morning of an autumn that will always live in your heart no matter how painful it is, the morning of an October 21st, 4 years ago, when you were running late for college and your friends kept nagging you about what would be the perfect costume for the Halloween party, but your head was exploding, you were new in college and you didn't care about the costumes, even though you loved Halloween, it was midterm exams and it was your second night of pull an all-nighter, and you fell asleep at your desk over your notes and woke up scared, half an hour later than your usual alarm. Half an hour was half an hour, time was crucial when you lived far from school and every little thing got in the way of your punctuality.

But you sighed, trying to forget those thoughts and calmly leaving your apartment going calmly towards the train station to take you to town; you were not late, if everything goes perfect you would arrive at least 20 minutes earlier than agreed with your friend, a special one, who insisted that you should stay in his apartment, and then insisted on picking you up, but you rejected his requests, making it clear that you enjoyed taking the train and that you would be with him so early in the morning; he was nervous, he had an important job interview in an important company and he needed real emotional support, especially yours, which you accepted since you appreciated him a lot. Plus, in the evening you were going to a birthday party for another of your close friends, who you had been avoiding… because you knew he would be there. Because you knew they would start asking about your well-being since he had a new girlfriend whom he proudly took everywhere, who was beautiful and gentle, not cold and shy like you, who's lively personality fit perfectly with your ex-boyfriend's and they were an adorable couple, whose girl would be intertwining his arm tonight.

You didn't take your usual train first thing in the morning, in fact you had stopped taking it since months ago since you graduated from college and there was nothing in the city for you yet, just the high hopes of getting a job you were trying so hard for and, who your best friend Yang Jeongin promised to get you a position once he gets his too. Jeongin had it all, he came from a rich family and was a bit spoiled, yet he was quite sweet and humble, his parents were strict and always taught him to work and strive for his goals, he was a year older than you and gave you one subject induction courses, making you friends and since you ended your relationship, he has been hard at it to make you forget about your ex boyfriend… and for you to start seeing him with other eyes than just friendship. He had a job interview with a pharmaceutical company, a partner in one of his father's companies and therefore trusted by him. As an executive, and not as a pharmacist chemist Biologist, as you both graduated.

You thought you had perfectly erased your ex-boyfriend from your memory, his voice was so far away in your head, you don't remember his smell, and you don't think about him anymore when you are alone with Jeongin. You don't miss him, or at least that's what you want to convince yourself, you've gotten so used to living alone as it always was your whole life, while you were sure that he had already gotten so used to his new girl as well. But something in the cold air hitting your bare skin that cloudy early autumn morning in September, made a rush of memory of him come to your mind. He was for you, a cozy autumn day.

You walked into the train oblivious to the people already there, your usual middle and back seats were taken so you sat all the way to the front by the window, feeling safe because you had forgotten a coat and the weather was predicting a drop in temperature with heavy wind and rain, and suddenly you remembered that you also forgot your umbrella at the entrance to your house. You cursed internally, sometimes you are a little absent-minded.

You rubbed your hands together trying to get warm and settled your backpack next to you as you felt the train start up, impossible for someone to come and sit next to you. You took the book out of your bag and tried to start reading it, thinking if you would really look like a bitch if you didn't attend Han's birthday, but you didn't consider it anymore, he was dramatic and a great friend, he was at all your birthdays since you met him, even in heavy snow storm, without you asking him, since your birthday always happened on a cold December day.

You couldn't concentrate on your reading, that day for some reason for you was quite melancholic, that's why you hated cloudy days and rain, they altered your mood. You looked towards the window and suddenly, your heart stopped beating when you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You turned around, as terrified as if it were a ghost, almost in a cold sweat. And your eyes found him, standing holding onto your seat as his body swayed gently through the moving train.

Minho. You thought again and again. You watched him as if you hadn't seen him in years, his hair was now a deep dark blue almost black, his handsome face had a small smile and you noticed he was dressed smartly in a suit…. something very unusual for him.

“Hey” you managed to say gravely and breathlessly and, without invitation, he sat down next to you, moving your bag.

“What will you do in the city?” he asked, as if nothing.

The same question he asked four years ago.

As calm and relaxed as if you hadn't stopped talking eight months ago. Everything inside you was disturbed as you heard his voice rumbling in every corner of your body. You thought you had forgotten him, but suddenly everything you had experienced with him filled you up completely in just seconds. You wanted to ask loudly and desperately to heaven, what the fuck you must have done in your past life to suffer like that again, seeing him again.

“Mmm, nothing special, I'll go see Jeongin” you replied, shy and stammering just like the first time you met.

Around the same time, same place, same old train without any repairs, just different seat. Suddenly you remembered that you were sitting in the seat he was in four years ago when you met him. That cold October 21st, almost running to catch the train, agitated and sweating despite the cold weather, once again, forgetting your scarf and coat at home, only carrying with you a small sweater, quickly entering the carriage, sitting almost at the end, victorious of not missing the train while trying to calm down and checking the time like a maniac counting exactly what minute of the class you might be able to arrive. After settling your breathing, you tried to relax a bit by drawing, as you loved to do it, you were good at it, it was a passion you never developed professionally as you thought it wouldn't lead to something solid and you took it as a hobby.

That morning you completely caught Minho's attention as you came in so agitated and running, he usually took the next train, but that morning he felt so homesick and with a personal and artistic block, he felt trapped. He felt time upon him, it was time to grow up, something he never wanted to do, that morning Minho couldn't sleep and went for a walk to the cold and dark beach, he returned disappointed to his apartment and got dressed up, ready to go to the city to meet some friends; he had just finished college months ago, he studied what he was passionate about, but sadly he didn't see expected results in his work, he was a frustrated and unemployed artist, at least in his profession, as he kept small jobs that made him completely unhappy. But that morning, somehow you cheered him up, he turned to see you, who were so concentrated drawing nothing in specific, you were drawing the train station you always took, you had previously checked your phone but you regretted it the instant you saw one of your friends send the cute costume she had together with her boyfriend, most of them dressed in pairs and suddenly all that terrified you… for the first time, you felt lonely, you hadn't had any love interest in high school and your college seemed to be going the same way, you wondered if the problem was you and if you should do something soon… and that's when you felt a look on you, by reflex you looked up, meeting big brown eyes of a boy with bright purple hair looking at you so animatedly; you got embarrassed, blushed and looked away and then you looked at him again, this time the boy's eyes were smiling by themselves, as the rest of the seat was blocking the view of his whole face.

“Hi” he shouted animatedly so you could have heard him.

Confused, you frowned, unsure if it was you he was referring to. It was more than obvious to Minho, there was no other young person around his age in the carriage and he was looking you straight in the eye; he was outgoing, spontaneous and currently sad so he desperately needed a distraction.

You whispered a small, subtle “What?”, not believing he had heard you, to which he repeated again, “I said hi.”

“Hi” you replied almost automatically, without thinking or else nerves and shyness would get the best of you.

Minho was bored of being sad, he wasn't cynical enough to jump from one emotion to another, his sadness was still there, still he wanted to cheer up a bit so he approached you, surprising you completely as you saw his silhouette coming towards you. He positioned himself on his knees like a little kid peeping towards your seat and the drawing on your lap, to him up close, you looked even prettier and when he saw your art it was his doom, you were perfect, he thought so.

“What are you doing?” he added peeping at your drawing.

You remember watching him, with his bright purple color in his hair, his handsome face with big eyes and straight nose, unable to formulate words as he was quite handsome and his voice… it was so unique that you wanted to hear it again. You were a bit shy and antisocial, the only way you made friends was because they approached you, just like he was doing just at this moment.

“It's just a draw…” you replied in a deep voice unsure of speaking.

“You're an artist?” he asked animatedly, this time rounding the seat and sitting in your available one next to you.

You distinctly remember almost losing your breath when you felt and saw him nearby, remember every part of him, his strong presence and sweet scent.

“Oh no, it's just… a hobby.”

“Hobby? But it's beautiful, I know how to recognize another artist myself, I am one” he mentioned proudly with a small smile on his face.

For the first time, you turned to look at him, making eye contact which you have a hard time doing, but you couldn't take your eyes off Minho's, sharp but round, his lachrymal so marked and cute giving the appearance of a cat, his long eyelashes and his pointed nose with the termination of thin pink heart-shaped lips. He continued, without you saying a word, but your gaze prompted him to speak in a certain way:

“I am a cartoonist and illustrator.”

You opened your eyes in surprise, you always loved meeting more illustrators, after all that was your greatest passion, art, after chemistry.

“Really, that sounds very nice, have you illustrated books?” you said with interest.

“I illustrated some graphic novels by a friend, it's called Eternal Flame, then its sequel, A Blue Sunshine, by Han Jisung.”

“I should read it, the titles sound interesting” you said animatedly.

Minho made a small grimace that confused you.

“Honestly not a fan of fiction and romance, but you can do it to see my illustrations” he added amused to which you laughed.

You should have known back then when Minho told you he was never a fan of romance, but you ignored him, you were so blinded by his eternal shine, there was something about him so unique.

“What will you do in the city?” he spoke again.

“I'm going to college… and you?”

“Lunch with some friends” he suddenly answered curtly, not comfortable with the conversation so spontaneously, he didn't want to talk about him and his business in the city. “What do you major in?” he changed the conversation to what you naively at the time didn't know.

“Pharmaceutical chemist-biologist.”

“Chemi-what, I can't even pronounce it” you laughed softly, “Why would you choose something so difficult?”

“I guess I… I like complicated things.”

And that was so true, there was nothing more complicated in your life than Lee Minho, and you dealt and struggled with it three years, not even your career was as complicated as him.

“I'm Minho, by the way.”

Minho couldn't get the pretty girl on the train drawing out of his head.

When you arrived in the city you knew that you both had to leave for your respective destination so he asked you, “What time do you take the train back?” And right at that time you found him again, standing at the station, waiting for you, looking so cute all bundled up and his notorious purple hair. The temperature had dropped further and as soon as he saw you, he wrapped his scarf around you and gave you his jacket while you waited 10 minutes for the carriage. You could see the incredible cold Minho was going through, you felt bad but he insisted you wear it, you breathed in his manly scent combined with a sweet candy smell, it was amazing that it fit him so well even his smell, his appearance was manly, every faction of his face was perfectly marked, but he… was a little strange, strange cute.

You talked for hours, you didn't know that he was also from the same town as you, he was older, by four years, and you were so delighted to meet him that you didn't want to chase him away, and just kept telling him over and over that you were in college, since you were seventeen at the time, two months away from your eighteenth birthday. Minho was cute, sarcastic, joking and spontaneous, you never went through any awkward moments, after he left you to your apartment, you felt bad, wondering if you were going to fall in love always and easily with the first cute guy who paid attention to you. Years later you found out that it wasn't like that, you just fell in love with Minho and his peculiar personality. It was only because of him that you could fall so easily.

You started dating in November, your first date was when you invited him to choose a costume for Halloween, and in the end, you ended up sneaking out of the party to go with him, in December you still pretended you were 18, and that you turned 19, you spent Christmas and New Year's with him, when you got drunk for the first time and confessed between kisses your real age, Minho was impressed and also drunk joked if Y/N was your real name and identity. For Minho you were magic, and like a little lucky charm, since he met you, his life improved, the days were brighter, he got a wonderful job with good pay doing what he was passionate about, but nevertheless he could never leave the town, because it was like a magical place that brought him back to you.

That winter his hair changed to silver, by spring it was blond, one of his colors that drove you crazy and, six months after dating, after fiery kissing sessions, Minho was your first time. Minho was your first time in everything, in love, in your kiss, in sex, your first fight, your first emotional stress for someone far away from your family. Everything. You lost your virginity to Minho in his apartment, who was an expert and was very well endowed in size so he was gentle with you, you couldn't believe how incredibly hot he made you, how well he played with your pussy… and, after that, your steamy honeymoon era started, he changed his hair to brown, every time he changed his hair color, it was like he changed too, a new facet every time, something new to learn and know about Minho.

Your parents and brother adored him, they said he was a little crazy, but he looked like a good man, his parents also adored you, since he was an only child, his three cats loved you and were so used to you every time you visited Minho's parents house, since he also wanted to see his cats, you met Minho's friends who liked you so much that they became your friends too… but not everything was sweet, Minho had the irrational fear of getting bored of you, since his pasts relationships didn't last long, he was unserious, he had so many mood swings that it was hard to keep up with them, after a little more than a year of being together, problems appeared, Minho was frustrated because living in the city would fix everything, he would be closer to his job and would save taking a train every morning, but he was going to move away from you. But you always fixed every fight, with you always apologizing, he never did, not even if he was wrong, but you didn't want to lose him, you loved him too much.

You fought hard for three years and when you reached that amount of being together, everything fell apart, before November of that year when you would be three years long, Minho had to look for another job, which he found, but this time he was so determined to live in the city and he felt tied to you. Which made him feel bad, because he loved you too much but… sometimes he despaired of your shyness and fear of moving forward, your fear of seeing things in the future, even he, who was childish and immature, felt it was time to change, he was 25 years old, no longer 22.

And you insisted to him that you could go live with him, that you practically and anyway already lived in his apartment, that you could go to the city together, but he excused himself with that he loves you too much and he wouldn't make you change who you are and what you love just for him, if you loved the small town, then you should stay there, but it was a bunch of crap, there was nothing in the world that you would love more than him.

And he broke up with you, one cold January night this year, after having another fight, one so hard you knew it would take time to digest, Minho was starting to move out behind your back, he had only told you of his plans, mumbling and annoyed, but you had no idea he already had an apartment in the city. You found him messaging with a girl, being a little nicer than usual, talking cheerfully about what he ate, what he was doing, what movie he should watch; you argued and between shouts he told you she was just his real estate agent and showed the first messages where he was asking for apartments, being so professional; then you picked up that he was looking for apartments himself without telling you anything, and as soon as he saw the woman, she caught his attention.

But you wanted to forgive him, even though he never asked you for forgiveness in the first place, you wanted to think that they were just messages, and that he can still stop it with time, you wanted to hear from him that he loves you.

Still heartbroken and in the snow, you went to the supermarket to buy things to cook in his apartment, to talk and be warm, then make up for it with sweet sex like you always did, because you hadn't been intimate in weeks. Minho didn't expect you that night, still he let you in, you left the shopping on the counter and you approached him so in love, ready to talk sweetly to him and incite him to also talk and touch you, but you saw him, his expression was so serious, all the muscles on his face were tense to form a monotonous expression, you were worried, Minho couldn't hold back anymore, he didn't want to hurt you, he told you that you had to talk, you both sat on his couch and he was done with you. He said to you:

“You know I love you too much, you gave me the best years of my life, but I think we have to explore the outside world, alone, separating for a while.”

Not only did your heart break, but you felt every part of your body ache. The memory is so painful that you decided to erase it, you only remember Minho's dark red hair and his cute, slightly crystallized eyes.

Had you known it was just a game to him, you wouldn't have wasted your love for so long.

And by March Minho had a new girlfriend, a girl his age who worked with him. You didn't know, but Jisung thought you did and came running to you to comfort you, that's when you found out. She was like Minho as a woman, only she didn't change her hair color and maintained a cleaner, more elegant image of a beautiful 25 year old woman. But she was exactly like him, spontaneous personality, outgoing, friendly; she was the exact opposite of you.

You didn't know if he really moved to the city, you stopped talking completely and you weren't interested in asking about him, or his girlfriend. You graduated, after having lived your entire college career with Minho, after he promised you he would be there when you finished studying. Minho knew exactly what day in May was your graduation, but he hesitated so much to talk to you again, that he ended up not talking to you.

He hurt you over and over again and now he felt like it was nothing, waving at you.

Minho grimaced and sucked between his teeth when he heard you were going to see Jeongin, hurt that those were your first words he heard from you after eight long months, seeing another man.

“How is Jeongin?” he asked, nervous and losing his confidence as he fiddled with his tie.

“Fine.”

“You're dating him?”

The question surprised you as much and was as sudden as he was.

“Why are you dressed like that?” you told him teasingly, as confidently as if you knew each other very well, which you do.

“Ahh, this” he said exasperated looking at his suit, “Seohyeon got me a promotion at work and I have to be at the interview dressed like this, you know it's not my style.”

Seohyeon, you repeated in your head, catching on that Minho was passive aggressive with you by returning the low blow that was mentioning Jeongin to him, now he mentioned his girlfriend to you.

The first time you saw Seohyeon was at the birthday dinner of Minho's friend who was also yours, Changbin, in August, she was so pretty and wore an expensive dress that made you go home crying for hours.

“And why are you on this train anyway? You stayed with your parents…?”

Minho laughed softly, making your insides vibrate, you hadn't heard or seen his laugh in a long time.

“I think you were always right, I can never leave the town, I still keep my old apartment, it's full of nice memories” he said, intensifying your gaze on you.

You wanted to laugh in disbelief, for you everything nice living in his apartment is overshadowed by that dark January day. There is nothing else in that place but ghosts and haunting. Fighting and crying.

“So you don't live in the city?” you answered, so cold that it hurt Minho a little, not hearing your sweet, soft tone anymore.

“Yes but, you know when I need some emotional support I have to go to the beach, that's why I stayed there.”

You both kept talking, Minho never closed his mouth, after almost the hour, you saw him so normal again, you didn't know if your wound was open or healing, but you laughed with him again. And you couldn't help but think how handsome he looked in his body-tight suit.

Finally you arrived in the city, Minho noticed once again that you didn't have a coat, so he gave you his long coat, you were impressed but you wanted to give it back to him to which he refused.

“You are going to Hannie's party tonight right?” asked Minho, not wanting to say goodbye to you.

Minho missed you and he didn't know how to say it, he missed your scolding, your stubborn personality, you being more ordered than him, your little routine and just everything about you. Despite having a new girlfriend, she wasn't you, her eyes didn't shine the same as yours, her voice and body were different, he didn't know every single point of her body that made her tremble like he did with you; he tried to look for you in her again, but she wasn't you. But Minho can't help but have a great appreciation for Seohyeon, with her everything was simpler, she talked and expressed herself in every thing she felt, she wasn't so reserved, but he could never love her with the same intensity as he did with you, you were for Minho his first great love, he, a man who didn't even believe that two strangers can soon become each other's world, you were his world in his young years.

You nodded at the question of attending Han's party and, before he could say to you, see you later, the heavy rain caught you completely, drenching you both, you both ran inside the station, laughing at the sudden change of weather. You both looked at each other, laughing and wet.

“Agh, you hate the rain” Minho whispered softly looking towards the window, still remembering every detail about you then turned to look at you, “Don't you have an umbrella?”

You shook your head.

“Neither do I” Minho added, “I can't go to the interview like this, do I look too wet?” he spoke worriedly to which you nodded amused, “Agh, I'll go to the bathroom.”

Minho left and you saw the rain, feeling it for the first time as a healer. But the rain was getting heavier and heavier, having people trapped in the station.

Minho came back, slightly drier and they both sat on a couch in the place, in silence, waiting for the rain to stop, but after 10 minutes of intense rain and silence, Minho went back to talking, as if nothing, updating you on his life, excluding Seohyeon in every part of it. 30 more minutes and the rain started to soften, the truth was that Minho wanted to keep you held for a moment, because he was about to abandon his plans to spend time with you, at least one last time. The last tender date you couldn't have.

Jeongin was calling you, but your phone was silent and in your bag, you lost track of time with Minho, you lost yourself in Minho, once again you were mesmerized.

“The cab is outside… I'll go to my apartment to change… you want to go… dry off.”

You were dry, but you nodded without thinking, it was obvious he wanted to be with you, why say no to him.

The ride was silent, you appreciated the city, so big and where you also shared many memories with Minho and, unexpectedly you feel his hand on yours, you blushed, unable to see it, as if you were eighteen again and everything he did made you blush. He looked at you tenderly, appreciating every detail about you that he missed.

You arrived at his apartment, you took off his coat, however there was something about that apartment made you uneasy, the decoration was not so Minho, it felt like someone else's… you thought, maybe his new girlfriend decorated it for him.

You couldn't observe it much, when Minho took you by the wrist and guided you to his room.

“Help me pick out another outfit.”

You were puzzled, but you let yourself go, however you were elated to see that Minho was undressing.

“Minho…” you said in warning, averting your gaze.

“What, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before.”

You said nothing, and a small photo so familiar on the stand of his TV caught your attention, you moved closer and noticed it was a Polaroid taken of you by Han at a dinner party at his house, you had forgotten that night, you had forgotten that a photo existed. You were stunned, why would Minho keep your memories anyway, you got rid of each and every one of his things, his gifts, his drawings of you, his photos, everything was stored in a warehouse that your parents rented, under a padlock of which you have no key or code, you just threw it there, next to your mother and cried all the way back to her house, as you felt unable to be in yours.

Minho noticed instantly and, wearing only his pants, he stood in front of you and lowered your hand gently to let you leave the picture where it was, you looked him in the eyes, upset, almost crying, you wanted to kill him, he was the one who broke up with you, you never agreed on that, if he had changed his mind soon, you would be together again, but he never called you back.

“It would sound bad… if I told you I still miss you” he whispered carefully.

You watched him badly, so weak, “You're such a fucking idiot” you claimed to him, so angry as if you were barely done with him and you were in your anger phase.

“I know, I know…”

“I have to go” you exclaimed, but he held your forearms tightly.

“Don't go again” he whispered with his eyes shining, “Please don't go again, without you giving me one last kiss.”

You laughed in disbelief, but Minho leaned towards you, pressing his lips together to which you promptly received, his soft lips that you adored so much and had forgotten the sensation, you let yourself fall to Minho's games of seduction, you were lost again. Minho kissed you so tenderly, but then his right hand went to your waist, squeezing it while his left hand held your face, he subtly intensified the kiss, opening your mouth and your tongues colliding, you felt weak again, you hadn't kissed anyone after him and he came back being so much more intense, you were starting to turn on little by little completely yielded to Minho, as you rested his hands on his marked and protruding pecs, you noticed he was more muscular since the last time you touched him, you felt so bad but you wanted to fuck him, you had been having months of abstinence, just surviving off your the lonely nights with your vibrator.

Minho quickly noticed how the situation was getting hotter and hotter and how his loud kisses between sighs made way for many things, Minho drew your body to his, pressed his grip tightly on your waist, he was starting to get aroused, he had missed you so much.

You gasped as you felt his lips moving down your neck, kissing your skin so passionately, now his hands searching for the edge of your sweater, nimbly removing it followed by your bra, you looked into his eyes for a few seconds, whose gaze was lost in your bare chest, with his swollen lips and darker eyes, Minho kissed you again on your chest, this time catching one breast in his mouth making you moan and your pussy throb for him, he kept playing with your breasts with his mouth, tongue and hands, until he pulled away from you, grabbed you by the waist and repositioned you on his bed.

You watched Minho so lustfully as he began to take off his belt and unbutton his pants… and then you realized… that Minho had a girlfriend and that he probably fucks her on the same bed you are sitting on. You couldn't think about it again, when you found your ex-boyfriend's big erect cock, Minho stroking it gently and moaning; you bit your lip at the sight of his dick, it used to be yours only and now you had to share it, you were going to fuck him no matter what, at least one last time.

He came back closer to you and went back to eating your mouth wildly, you took his cock between your hands and started to masturbate him making him gasp between your kisses. He pulled away, making eye contact as he tried to undo the button of your pants, you gasped at the agility and speed in which he got rid of your garment, leaving you in your soaking wet panties.

“Oh I missed you too much” he mumbled.

He kissed you again, this time moving his right hand down to your panties, rubbing your folds over the fabric, you gasped to which a smiling Minho pulled away from you and brought your foreheads together, he had that smug little smile of his, showing off his adorable upper teeth. He looked at you in concentration and so excited, your hand went back to his penis to which he moaned in exasperation. Minho pulled the fabric away from your folds and continued to caress your pussy as he stared at you. Your body began to tremble as Minho touched exactly the part of your clit that was driving you crazy, and he quickly inserted two of his fingers expertly, making your eyes roll white with pleasure, he knew you so well.

Minho continued to work hard on your pussy at the same time you were stimulating him as well. The scene was so dirty, Minho had not felt this aroused again since he was with you, his heart wanting to pound out of his chest, his cock throbbing hard and every inch of its length swollen and sensitive. He needed you so much, Minho remembered your little horny games where he would teach you every single thing about sex, every position, how you should move, what to do with a certain part of your body, everything was orchestrated by him and by your second year of dating you were an expert who knew Minho like a map you knew by heart.

Minho cursed between gasps which turned you on so much, he was so close, while you on the other hand enjoyed so much being stimulated with his hand brushing your labia and clit in an obscene wet sound while his fingers fucked your insides sliding into your walls, finally having Minho, having him like you wanted it to happen eight months ago, at least one last time. Minho pulled away from you and you in a whimper watched him confused, he sat on the edge of the bed, as soon as he said “Come here”, you were already by his side so fast.

“C'mon kitten, I also missed your lips around my cock. Ahhh fuck yes” whimpered Minho, grabbing your hair.

You obeyed him instantly, oh the hard soft reddish tip of your ex-boyfriend with his slippery precum, how much you missed it, Minho's cock was thick and big with veins, it was a dream, you hated that another girl had to taste it, so you would suck him off so well. You stuck out your tongue, holding his cock and gently stroking his balls, your tongue began to stimulate his glans to which you made eye contact with him, but Minho didn't last long, he closed his eyes in pleasure letting himself go completely. His right hand held your hair, while his free hand was in charge of groping your whole body, getting you hornier, you loved it when Minho was too touchy during sex, running his hands all over your body, constantly caressing your bare skin, you sighed half-heartedly, and took his whole length, sucking and licking hard, weakening your ex-boyfriend so ecstatic, there was no other like your mouth taking his cock so well.

Minho's long arm reached your entrance and with his middle finger he fucked your entrance again turning you into a horny fucking slut eager for sex sex and more sex, you couldn't wait for him to finally be in you.

“Ah, fuck princess, I'm gonna cum” whined Minho, with his strong thick thighs shaking feeling so satisfied by your constant movements of your mouth on his cock.

He fucked you harder each time he got closer and closer making you gasp between his cock and you watched him contract his marked abdomen followed by his warm shot in your mouth. You smiled satisfied to see him a little ruined with an expression of pleasure all over his handsome face, you slid his whole cock one last time out of your mouth, dripping a little and making a mess on his thighs, you swallowed every taste of Minho, he watched you sweetly for a few seconds and moved again, he always had to be in constant motion and this time he leaned back against the back of his bed, making his body comfortable, his back between his pillows, sitting up.

“Come here again” he whispered, patting her thick thigh.

You understood perfectly, you admired his naked body for a moment, his long strong legs resting on the bed and his strong arms with noticeable veins on his biceps, you really thought Minho had to go back to the gym in the time he wasn't with you. And you understood everything, every time Minho lay down and made himself comfortable, it was because he wanted you to ride him. You were so happy and wet that you would finally feel his cock in you again.

“Take off your panties, honey or do you want me to fuck you like that“ he added in a thick voice.

You bit your lip, slowly removed your panties as Minho looked at you expectantly with his cock sticking to his abdomen so erect again, you spread your legs and positioned your body over him, your knees next to his thighs and moaned as you felt your wet folds detach, you took his cock setting it steady to let yourself slowly fall on it, Minho bit his lip and you whimpered as you felt half of him in you, stretching your entire entrance and filling all your insides, rubbing hard against your walls, you took your hand off his cock and held yourself on his chest, letting yourself fall all the way down and whimpering again. Minho watched you the whole time as you slid your entrance over him, then turned to quickly watch your pussy rubbing against the rest of his genitals, and returned your gaze to you, with an exalted liberated vein in his neck.

“Good girl, kitty, good girl” Minho encouraged you, panting but sweetly.

He always praised you during sex, it was something he loved to do, to let you know you were doing well and he was enjoying it. He held you tightly on your hips, you felt his hands bigger and his grip tighter if that was possible, he was not the sweet Minho you had known for a long time. You started to move on his cock, moaning as you felt your insides filled with him sliding easily, Minho helped you, pushing your hips to sway on him making you both enjoy; you didn't take your eyes off Minho, he was your same Min as always but at the same time so different.

“Ahh, you feel so good, princess, come here and kiss me” gasped Minho.

You leaned in to kiss him, while his strong hands were in charge of moving your hips up and down, almost grabbing your ass and caressing, in and out in such a slow and romantic rhythm enjoying every inch of his swollen cock in you. You loved the feel of his hands on you and his body close, Minho moved his hands to your breasts and whispered:

“Do you mind if you move a little now, sweetheart?”

You shook softly as you felt Minho's hands massaging your breasts, you rested your hands on his thighs, moving to your pace and making him gasp loudly.

“You're doing it great, princess, kee-keeping going” gasped Minho.

You kept moving and suddenly you felt so close to your orgasm, almost telepathically at the same time as Minho, he stopped fondling your breasts and hugged you tightly, making your body stick with his as he started ramming you fast and hard, pounding every part of your insides intensely, what started so cute and romantic, ended with Minho fucking you hard pushing you both to orgasm, to a shattering and wonderful orgasm, whimpering and cumming almost at the same time.

You felt all of Minho's cum fill you completely, Minho licked his lips at the thought of the pretty image of your pussy bathed in his liquid sliding into you. You lay there for a few seconds leaning against his chest trying to catch your breath, your tits brushing against his chest, feeling his heavy breathing, with your head resting on his shoulder, breathing in his scent, getting a closer look at his short blue-tinged hair. And that was nothing to what you used to do, you used to last round after round… but suddenly, you felt so sensitive to be in his arms again. Slowly you pulled away from him, taking a deep breath to dare to look at him.

You watched Minho, his face was the same but he had matured, he looked more grown up… he no longer had the sweet face of a baby, he was a man, a man who just now you wanted to fuck him every day but you couldn't, nor was it right. There was a slight change in his appearance since you weren't in his life and you didn't know exactly if it was good or bad. You wanted to love him again, but there was no choice for you but to be mature and wish him well in his new relationship, if only she never finds out you had just slept with him…

You traced kisses on his chest and neck, just like you always used to do after sex, you missed him so much, the warmth of his body with yours, his sweet tired face. Minho caressed your back and smiled broadly, hiding his upper lip and showing his teeth, his cute, typical smile that you fall for again and again.

“That was beautiful” he said.

For you it was a beautiful nightmare, just when you were beginning to forget him… now you find yourself with his cock still inside you, looking at him sweetly, fucking in a bed that no longer belongs to you, on a man who is no longer yours.

“What happened to us Minho?” you said to him, sniffing hard and holding back the urge to cry.

“I was a fucking idiot for letting you go” he confessed, hurt.

[...]

You spent the rest of Minho's day in the city, with the excuse of him helping you buy Han a gift, both of you, amidst the guilt, called your respective other people who cared about you, you to Jeongin, apologizing and telling him that you knew he did well anyway and that you would see him tonight accompanying you to Han's party, that you would go to his apartment to get ready, which hurt Minho. Minho, apologizing, which burned every part of your insides, he would never apologize to you, telling her that he was sorry he missed the interview and that he loved her and would see her at Han's party.

You tried to ignore what he said, but you could not. You felt bad about being your ex-boyfriend's mistress and tried your best to get away from him, but he wouldn't let you.

As soon as dusk came, you both had to say goodbye and went to the arms of the respective people waiting for you.

For the first time, Han saw you arrive with a new guy, and his heart was so happy that you are healing, without having the slightest idea that you had fucked Minho a few hours ago, upsetting you even more.

And you saw him in the distance, his shiny dark blue hair, his elegant stance, holding someone else's waist.

You watched Jeongin, willing to change, willing to extinguish the eternal flame that was your love for Minho, as he wrote, as your friend Han wrote in his novel, 'fire can be extinguished, but it only requires a minimal factor to ignite, but a great struggle to completely quench, why we focus on the cause, and not the result, of a totally scorched landscape. It's demaged, it also needs care.' It was your time to let go of Minho, only you just erasing him from your mind was so easy, but you had in front of you the great struggle, which did everything for you. You smiled at Jeongin, he smiled back sweetly, and you began to look closely at how attractive he was.

You and Minho's story was just fiction and romance like Han's book, which Minho illustrated them himself. Han's sequel was more devastating anyway, you didn't want to live it.

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a-string-of-coloured-beads · 3 years ago

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If I can only stress one piece of advice, it's: DO YOUR NOTES AT THE END OF A TOPIC! I didn't do that for the first term of the year (despite half my teachers advising me to), and it took me ages to catch up on everything. So incorporate it into your revision, and whether you type them, handwrite them, or anything else, just do them!

If you're starting the GCSE course this year and want to chat about it, my inbox is always open and you can send me a message if you want! <3

Transcript under the cut!

Slide 1:

For all the new year 10s!

Top tips for starting the GCSE course, staying on top of things, and staying happy in this crazy time!

Slide 2: Basics

All the easy things you can do to help future you!

Everyday:

If you don't understand something from your lesson - ask your teacher!

DO YOUR HOMEWORK!

Look over your notes for lessons (my teachers were always fans of surprise quizzes and you want to be prepared)

At the end of a unit:

Make flashcards (you can use them at end of year exams and actual GCSEs)

Make ALL your notes for that unit - never leave some of them for 'later'!

Practice, practice, practice - your teachers can give you practice questions, and there are loads online

End of year exams:

Make checklists of everything the exam is on, and check each topic off when you understand it.

Make a revision timetable, and be honest with how much you can humanly do.

Stay calm, and chat with your friends - they're also probably feeling nervous!

Slide 3: Staying Organised

Write down your assignments! Half the time, the reason I was rushing to complete a piece of homework was because I hadn't written down the assignment details properly. If your school gives you a planner, use it! Write down the assignment, date due, and the details of what you actually have to do.

Have designated folders/books/binders for each subject. For me, I wasn't going to go out and buy ten different ringbinders, so I have one for sciences, one for English, French, and Drama - you get the point. Just make it so you know where all your notes go.

Empty your bag! This might sound unnecessary, but clean out your bag! By the end of the week, I have pens, sheets, and forms I need to fill, in all cluttering up the bottom of my bag, and it makes it so easy for things to get lost. So clean it out!

Slide 4: Apps + Websites I've used

Adapt - Makes a revision timetable and reminds you topics to look over each day!

Voice Recorder - I record myself speaking in French so that I can listen back and improve my accent.

Quizlet - I think most people know about this one - flashcards galore!

Physics and Maths Tutor - Literally a lifesaver. Notes, practice questions, flashcards, exam questions - and for so many subjects!

Save My Exams - Practice questions and notes! You have to pay for some of them, but I only use the free resources and they're great!

Slide 5: Final Tips (Almost There!)

Remember, this is the first time you've studied in this capacity - you might not have done certain subjects before, and there are certainly a lot of new things to get used to, so it's okay to take some time to adjust.

Bearing that in mind, it's really not as bad as you think it'll be, and there's no need to be too nervous! Just work hard, and try and enjoy what you're learning - you may be working towards the exams, but you can still take an interest in what you're studying!

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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Back to the 118 // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Buck meets the firefighter he replaced as the reader transfers back to the 118. The reader never expected to fall for a co-worker the first day back at the 118 after two years spent at the 155 in Los Feliz.

Warnings: Swearing, sickness, hospitals, health issues, pregnancy, angst and a shit ton of fluff

Words: 5.9k

A/N: So this is obviously a modern au for jatp to fit in the 911 universe. To make this work, Buck replaced Reader instead of Tommy after many failed probies. Eddie then later replaced Tommy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your e/c eyes scanned the outward appearance of the first firehouse you’d worked at fresh out of the Academy. The place that had become a second home from the increased tension-filled house your parents still lived in. A place you had escaped as quickly as you could for a dream career. A career your parents hadn’t been proud of in the beginning, with the danger that came with being a firefighter paramedic.

“You the new recruit?”

Your eyes fell from the building to the male individual standing near the open bay the engine and ladder truck both used. The male in question must have joined the 118 after you transferred to the 155. The stranger towered at least six feet minimum with blue eyes and short blonde hair with the slightest wave.

“No-”

“Flint!” The excited voice of the only other female paramedic called out. You only saw dark navy before you were pretty much tackled.

Hen and Chimney had equally taken you under their wings when you initially joined as a rookie. You’d been the second female firefighter-paramedic at the 118 and the youngest by far. As if you’d summoned him, you felt the arms of Chimney sandwich you against Hen.

“Flint?” The stranger parroted, blinking his eyes at the rather unusual scene of Chimney and Hen wrapped around an unknown girl.

“What are you doing here?” Chimney questioned, stepping back. Hen scoured your entire form for any differences that had occurred.

“Y/N decided to come home,” Bobby spoke from a few feet behind the reunion with the beaming smile on his features. His lips pulled into a smile directed at the first recruit he’d taken on his first year at the 118.

“Bobby!” You grinned, meeting the father figure in the middle of the distance between you two. Bobby wrapped you up in his arms tightly, a certain lightness cocooning the Captain as he took in his friends.

“You’re back here?”

“Everything is squared back at home now, thankfully, and while I loved working with the 155, it wasn’t home. This will always be home.”

“Buck, this is Y/N Patterson. She worked her first two years with the 118 before transferring to the 155 in Los Feliz. Y/N, this is one of our newest members, Evan Buckley.” Bobby gestured towards the previously nameless firefighter.

“Who would leave the 118?” Buck questioned, unable to come up with a valid reason to leave the family at 118.

Buck’s opinion didn’t stand with his only workplace after successfully becoming a firefighter solely was the 118. Never had he worked in another firehouse. He’d been a fire marshall and volunteered his time in the Austin wildfire, but he always came home to the 118.

“Family issues.”

2018, Firehouse 118, Los Angeles

A fresh-faced, albeit dirty from sweat and soot, jumped down from the engine truck’s high steps. The synchronized slam of doors sounded from your colleagues and friends Hen and Chimney. All three individuals famished for the casserole Bobby had premade during the slow morning.

“Baked Mac n’ Cheese.” Tommy breathed from his position by the driver side. Tommy Kinard was a stoic man towering over six feet. He was always a gentle giant after you’d bonded after a hard call.

“Clean up, and I’ll have it in the oven. It’s Chimney’s time to make the salad and Flint’s turn to set the table.” Bobby spoke with barely a glance to the ground ahead of him.

Your Captain jogged towards the stairs, whereas his team made their way to the locker rooms for a well-deserved shower. You and Hen split away from Tommy and Chimney to the women’s locker room that had gotten an upgrade.

Well, before you joined the Academy, the locker room had been used as a glorified game room, all thanks to the misogynist Captain from hell. Hen often had over the years mentioned how lucky you got with Bobby being your first Captain.

“Chimney better not put those onions like he did last time.” You spoke from under the stream of warm water. Nothing beat the warmth of a shower near the end of your shift erasing the evidence of your job.

“Man needs to learn the complimentary salad to the main dish.” Hen piped up from across the shower room.

You and Hen had both showered and redressed in a fresh uniform in under five minutes, the dirty one placed in a laundry bag. You’d managed to beat the boys to the upstairs by a few seconds. Enough to set half of the able before Chimney began to making his salad of choice.

“Looks great, Cap.” Tommy complimented the gooey homemade pasta Bobby religious made every third Thursday. He alternated between pasta recipes with the odd new recipe every once in a while.

“What are you waiting for? The bell?” Bobby quipped to the unmoving bunch of hungry individuals. His words started the boisterous meal time preceding the end of shift.

“So, we’re halfway through dinner and Amber-” Your phone interrupted the disaster date Tommy had begun telling. He continued as soon as you waved him to go ahead while you took the call.

“Hello?” You breathed into the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The warmth infused in your mom’s voice soothed the ruffled feathers from the call you’d come back from, “How are you?”

“I’m good! We just finished eating. My shift is almost over, and I’ll have to go straight to the store for groceries-”

“Y/N, we found him.”

The him was easy to figure out given your brother had run away from home three months prior with only his dreams in mind. You’d spent most of your off time, sometimes even during shift out on a call, to scan the environment for Luke. You became a regular in questioning hospitals and homeless shelters.

“Where was he?”

“His band had been about to play at some big venue last night.” Mom’s word choice concerned you. Her voice dripped with sadness instead of the typical disappointment and annoyance on anything to do with Sunset Curve.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“A few nights ago, the boys got hotdogs-”

“Streetdogs.” You interrupted with evident anger in your tone at the mention of those death dogs Luke consumed. You can’t even give a number to how many times you had told him how unsanitary and dangerous the food is.

“Something was wrong with the food. They got ill fast. Alex and Reggie are being kept for observation but will be found with a few days of rest.”

“What about Luke?”

“He tried to call 911; he was weak and fell. Y/N, he hit his head. He’s in the ICU in a coma.” Emily Patterson’s voice cracked as soon as she acknowledged the current state of her youngest child.

The colours of the world dulled as soon as your mind clicked that Luke was in the hospital. Your little brother had put himself in danger all because he had a big dream. Your mind flashed through your life growing up with him.

You remembered talking to your mom’s growing bump when she was pregnant with Luke. You remembered five-year-old Luke unable to settle unless you sang to him. Your voice was nothing special, but it soothed the little boy when he had a nightmare. You could vividly recall teaching Luke how to play the guitar when he was thirteen; the brunette a complete natural at it.

“What’s his prognosis?”

“Too early to tell. The doctor is hoping Luke will be in a general room after tomorrow if the swelling goes down. I wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“How’s Dad?”

Emily hesitated from her position by a hospital bed. Her brown eyes carefully scanning the male sleeping soundly in the bed.

“Mom?”

“Your father had a heart attack last night. That’s why I haven’t been able to tell you sooner. He’s currently sleeping, but he’ll have a barrage of tests later today-”

“I’ll be there as soon as my shif-”

“No. Don’t drop anything. I can keep you up.”

“Excuse my language, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying away from my family. I’ll take a few days off. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Your thumb tapped the red circle on the bottom of your screen.

The 118 didn’t bother pretending they hadn’t been watching your form during your phone call. Bobby felt like something had drastically changed in a few minutes you’d been busy on the phone.

“Everything okay?” Bobby inquired from his position at the kitchen sink. His hands in the sudsy water to scrub the empty pan.

“My brother and my father are in hospital. I’m gonna need some days off.” You informed your boss with a look of utter defeat coating your expression.

Those few days transitioned to transferring to the closest firehouse to your childhood home and the hospital. The medical bills from both your brother and father had begun to overwhelm your mother with the current single source of income. Emily didn’t ask you for anything, but you started renting the home you’d bought for extra money.

It was a silent agreement that you paid rent as a cover to helping with the bills piling up.

Present Day, Firehouse 118

Buck followed behind the welcoming group to the girl that seemed larger than life. Buck was impressed by the sacrifice you’d made for the good of your family. You’d willingly given up the family of the 118. Buck didn’t know if he could do the same.

“Welcome back.” Hen cheered on her guidance to the heaven everyone called the kitchen. Your department issue duffle bag dropped out of the wall on the top level.

Your eyes zeroed in on the spread of your favourite foods prepared by the only person aware of your return. It was only one look of gratitude towards the father figure before everyone dug in.

A few changes had occurred since you’d last sat at this table. Tommy Kinard had left the 118 for the 217 shortly after your departure. He’d been replaced by the ready to impress Buck. One thing that hadn’t changed was the delicious food Bobby made.

Your eyes found the sole empty chair at the long table, “Didn’t you say the house took on two new recruits since I left?”

“Buck took your position when you left. We had a revolving door of firefighters before Buck permanently joined.” Chimney supplied with a mouth full of lettuce and grated carrot. Hen whacked his arm for his lack of manners.

“You’ll meet Eddie on the next shift. He took the day off. It’s his son’s first birthday since his mom died.” Bobby informed you with that pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, “He joined after Tommy left.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the entire team.” You replied, looking past to the circular table behind Bobby’s spot. Sam and Ryan both waved happily upon catching sight of you back at your unspoken seat.

You listened intently as Hen shared the changes Denny had gone through in the time you’d been away. Chimney was ecstatic to point out the faint scar on his forehead.

“You had rebar go through your skull, and you’re completely fine?” You questioned, floored by the pure luck Chimney had.

“Oh, it was nasty. Went in from the back of the skull to the front.” Buck spoke enthusiastically, recounting the scene. Chimney deadpanned a look at his younger coworker, “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s like you never had it happen.”

“Doc was shocked at how positive the outcome and healing was. I was back at work within a month on light duty. I beat my record getting in my turnout gear.”

“And yet my little brother was comatose for two months.” You grumbled under your breath. None of the people could make out the words, but the grimace on your face was enough to show them it was personal.

In true 118 fashion, the bell rang throughout the firehouse with the disembodied voice declaring the type and location. Yoru e/c eyes found Buck climbing into the driver’s seat where Tommy had once commandeered. It was odd not having the man who’d became an older brother to you.

“How’re your parents?” Hen questioned, sitting diagonally from you. Her fingers repositioning the radio on her chest.

“Dad’s recovering pretty good. Mom’s started attending her knitting club again.”

Buck’s eyes raised to the rearview mirror to meet yours in interest, “What happened?”

“Uh...my dad had a heart attack a couple years ago. He took a long time to recover with the further stress that caused it.” You piped up, understanding the news would come out at some point, “My little brother was in an accident that left him in a coma. Life was just as messy after he woke up.”

“He’s okay?” Chimney questioned, “I know we’ve never met them, but it really gutted you.”

“Well, physically, he’s fine, but emotionally he’s upset. He was in a band, and when he came out of the coma, he found out some devastating news.” You continued to explain, but unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, you’d come to the scene.

It was a little known place most teenagers discovered as a hang out spot just on the edge between your county and the next. The location was the infamous spot of cliff jumping; you knew because this was something you’d recklessly done in high school.

“He’s over here!” A blonde male of average height called from the edge of the cliff. His blue eyes were bright even from this distance, matching the detailing on his swim trunks.

Surrounding the edge with the boy was a group of teenagers his age, all in different versions of swimsuits. You found the scared brown eyes of a beautiful girl you vaguely knew from the few shows of Sunset Curve you had watched. Her dark blonde hair plaited out of her face. Her face clicked as Carrie Wilson, Bobby’s sister or cousin.

You jogged towards the edge of the cliff to look over. It was easily between fifteen to twenty feet from the edge of the cliff to the water. You recognized Hen crouching by your side, looking at what you were looking at.

On the rocks was a prone body of a teenage male with bruises already forming on his face from where you could see. His thick shoulder-length hair laid still half in the ponytail and around his head.

“Head trauma.” You murmured to Hen, scanning from a distance, “I can’t tell much from this height and angle.”

“Either a broken tibia or fibula. Spinal injury is definitely a concern.”

“Okay, his name is Willie Young. He’s eighteen years old. His sister Kayla was dared to jump off by doing some kind of flip. Willie took her dare and didn’t jump far enough or tripped over a rock.” Bobby listed having been talking with the group of teenagers all shook up.

“I can rappel-” Buck began to speak before you cut him off firmly.

“It would take too long, and the angle is difficult. Nobody rappels down it; the cliff isn’t stable enough. It crumbles pretty easy, and the unofficial name of this cliff is Devil’s Dive.” Your eyes found Carrie’s tear-filled once and the utter devastation in who you pegged as Kayla.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve jumped off this cliff for years as a teenager. You’re looking at the resident champion of self reckless endangerment at Devil’s Dive.”

Hen, Chimney and Bobby each stared, shocked at your revelation of stupid teenager decisions.

“Then how are we gonna get down there,” Buck questioned, staring at the unconscious teenager lying on the rocks.

“Easy, I can jump from here into the water and climb onto the rocks to where Willie is. I have the experience of how and where to jump safely.” You spoke to your Captain with complete confidence in your abilities, “You can lower down the kit, radio and backboard by a rope. There’s a mansion beyond the trees that you can ask to borrow a boat from the owner. He’s eccentric and questionable but nice enough.”

Bobby nodded his head to your plan. You unbuttoned your uniform shirt to strip down to the department t-shirt with the emblem on your chest and across your back. You kept the boots and emptied your pockets of anything. The butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the height of the cliff you hadn’t jumped from in years.

“I’ll jump where-”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at Buck’s assumption he could follow you.

“You’ll need another pair of hands to roll him on the backboard. I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home. This is kinda what I do. Bobby cleared it already.” Buck shrugged with a half-smirk on his handsome face.

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly gave Buck a rundown on how to jump correctly before you tossed yourself off the cliff. The cold water momentarily shocked your system as soon you submerged under the water. You swam to the surface before swimming towards the rocks. Willie hadn’t moved an inch.

“Whoa! That was so cool!” Buck cheered once he’d appeared on the surface of the water, “No wonder you used to do that!”

His excitement both annoyed and amused you, “Eh. I was just an idiot kid who thought they were invincible.”

The two firefighters lifted themselves onto the rock formation, where blood stained the rock. While Buck retrieved the backboard and essentials from the rope, your hands moved across Willie’s body, checking for breaks. You caught the c-collar Buck tossed without looking. You quickly but gently put the collar on Willie.

“Hi, Willie. My name is Y/N, and I’m a paramedic. I’m gonna check you over for injuries.” You informed the teenager closely. You’d only just opened his eyes to flash a light on them, “Buck let Bobby know Willie’s pupils are reactive to light and the same size.”

“Got it!” Buck called out from the open medkit, “I’ll splint his leg.”

“W-what happened?” Willie wheezed sluggishly. His brown eyes were unfocused.

“You got hurt trying to jump off the cliff. You’re in good hands, Willie. I’m a paramedic with the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my coworker Buck.”

“Kayla?”

“Perfectly safe, but you did give her a scare. Willie, can you feel this?” Buck questioned, gently touching his right foot. Buck and you both gave a sigh of relief as Willie confirmed he felt it.

“Okay, we’re gonna roll you on to the backboard. On three: one, two, three.” You counted before rolling Willie on his side with Buck. Willie’s cry echoed around the surrounding as you settled him on the board.

“Need a ride?” Chimney asked as a very nice boat floated towards the three people on the rocks. Hen and Bobby helped load Willie onto the boat, “Mr. Covington agreed to let us use the boat if we don’t get blood on the seats.”

“Can you call my boyfriend?” Willie sluggishly asked when he was loaded into the ambulance on the cliff. Kayla sliding into the seat in the back of the ambulance with their items.

“Alex is meeting us at the hospital.” Kayla told her older brother, “You absolute idiot! You should have just let me jump!”

“And let you be in the back of the ambulance? Dad would kill me if I had let you do it.” Willie scoffed. Their conversation was silent as Chimney and Buck closed the back doors of the ambulance.

Bobby, Buck and you climbed into the fire truck to follow the ambulance to the closest hospital. Hen and Chimney rolled the gurney to the doors with Kayla hot on their heels. You’d just turned to head back to the truck when you saw three teens loitering near the entrance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled, marching away from Bobby and Buck to the teen who was supposed to be in class.

Luke had been forced into private tutoring to catch up to his friends in his grades, meaning every afternoon. The watch on your wrist confirmed Luke was definitely supposed to be with his tutor at the community centre.

“Luke!” You shouted, stomping right up to the wide-eyed teen.

Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his older intimidating sister caught him like his hand was in the cookie jar. You didn’t give Reggie or Alex a second look while you gripped Luke’s ear to tug him away.

“Ow!” Luke whined from the angle you dragged him at.

“What the hell are you doing across the city? You’re supposed to be in your session that our parents are paying a great deal for.” You snapped, crossing your arms in your wet t-shirt.

“We need every chance we can to-”

“Make it big in the industry.” You parroted the past discussions on Luke’s dream as a band, “Do you remember how I got mom and dad off your back? An agreement that you finish high school on time. Not dropping out.”

“So many musicians have dropped out! Green Day’s frontman dropped out his senior year to focus on the band. Several others like Elton John and Kurt Cobain!” Luke enthused, gesturing with his hand to emphasize his words.

“Luke.” You warned, “It’s either catch by with a tutor with some time dedicated to your band, or it’s a military school.”

Luke’s hazel eyes minimally widened, “They would-”

Your stoic expression stayed the same as the energetic seventeen-year-old bounced in his spot across from you.

“There’s only so much I can do before you lose everything. I know you feel anxious after what all happened, but music isn’t going anywhere.” You reached to squeeze Luke’s hand in yours, “So, I’ll clear it with my boss to have you ride the bus to the station. You’ll have your tutor sessions with my supervision, so I know you’re attending.”

“Y/N!” Bobby called from next to the firetruck, “We gotta go.”

“I’m guessing the Alex that Willie is dating your best friend?” You questioned with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in response, “Let mom know you had to be there for Alex. She’ll let skipping your session go this once.”

“Thanks!” Luke chimed, lunging to hug you. Your mouth barely opened before he was racing towards a jittery Alex and a grinning Reggie.

Reggie lifted his arm to wave with his flushed cheeks a darker red colour. You found Reggie’s crush on you to be absolutely adorable. He was a friendly kid.

“He looks good for a kid who was in a coma not long ago.” Hen breathed as the teenager entered the ER with his best friends beside him.

“Oh, he healed quickly. He was crushed after he fully recovered from his head injury.”

“That was your brother?” Buck inquired, and he was just as focused on your features as he had since he first met you.

“Yeah! He was in a coma for ten months when he was sixteen. He’s spent the last two years catching on on school to graduate with his friends. Well hopefully. He’s dead set on dropping out.” You heavily sighed, leaning your temple on the glass window, “He was supposed to be at a tutoring session. I’ll be chaperoning to make sure he goes.”

“If you need to have them at the station, send me a schedule, and I’ll make it work. Luke’s just as much family as you are.”

The rest of the shift was smooth sailing as Buck followed you around with the sole purpose of getting to know you. The friendship came naturally to the two of you. He didn’t hold back with you like he did with others. Fridays off became hangouts that varied from just Buck and you to spend it with Eddie and Christopher.

Everyone could see Buck had developed feelings for you and vice versa. Unlike the man Buck used to be, he was cautious. He wanted to do this right. And Buck did. With the help of Christopher, he asked you out.

Months Later

Buck’s eyes fluttered open in the dim lighting of your new home’s bedroom he often found himself in. Before, you had alternated staying at his apartment or yours before a significant change happened. Luke moved in to finish his senior year with the help of your tutoring, as agreed with your parents. That led to you giving up your former home, the one that coincidentally Buck’s sister Maddie had rented from you.

“Luke! You better be awake!” Your voice came from the main floor of the home. Your voice alone seduced the firefight to leave the warm sheets.

His bare feet pattered down the hardwood floor stairs into the kitchen coated in all different kinds of breakfast food. Waffles to imported maple syrup to bacon spread across the counter.

“Morning,” Buck grumbled, stepping up behind you to tug you against his chest.

Unlike Buck’s softer footsteps, your little brother tore down the stairs like a stampede of elephants. Luke wore a vintage band shirt modified sleeveless; you’d be getting a voicemail about dress code violations. The chains hanging off his black jeans.

“You have to hurry, Lu. Buck and I can’t be late. He needs to get to his apart-”

“I don’t see why he doesn’t just move in. He’s here almost every night. He helps buy groceries.” Luke’s hazel eyes stared at the plate he towered food on.

Buck raised one eyebrow in response, “You just moved in. You should be settled before we make-”

“Dude. Your lease is up in like a month; just move in already. No feathers will be ruffled. Besides, the band’s taking off now that Nick got his dad Ryan to check our music out.” Luke sprouted with a beaming smile at the good news his new band received.

After Luke had recovered from that coma, he’d woken up in a world where Alex, Reggie and Bobby, no Trevor, now continued the band. Then when Alex and Reggie couldn’t go on, the rhythm guitarist betrayed Luke. He stole every song he could get his hands on and proved successful.

“Ryan Evans, right? His sister’s some bigshot on Broadway? Sharpay, right?” You questioned recalling in the early 2000s the success of Sharpay and Ryan in some kind of Disney films based on them.

“You’re about to be the sister and brother-in-law of a certified rockstar.” Luke’s attempt at smirking made him look like a chipmunk with full cheeks of food, “I don’t need a ride. Alex’s picking me up.”

“Straight to school, Luke. You’ve got two weeks left before you can leave that behind.” Buck pointed his coffee cup in the direction of the passionate musician. Luke returned a smile of acknowledgement.

The kitchen was quiet as Luke shoved as much food in his mouth in such little time while you watched. In a flash, he’d stuck his dishes in the dishwasher before sprinting out to the van beeping continuously.

“Think we can have you moved in by tomorrow? Your one-bedroom place will be a little cramped for five people.” You simply spoke as you rinsed your coffee cup out. You could hear the wheels in Buck’s brain turning as he thought.

“Five people?”

“Yeah. Luke, Albert, me, you and baby Buckley.”

The entire home went completely still as the announcement bled into the house you’d made a home. One hand resting against the smoothness of your belly. That hand covered by the calloused one of Buck’s. His blue eyes gleaming in utter adoration and excitement.

“Baby Buckley?” Buck marvelled, turning you to face him with tears running down your cheeks, “You’re pregnant?”

“I am. I guess we’re giving Maddie’s daughter a cousin.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now I’m obligated to see your parents regularly, and I still grimace at the first introduction.” Buck winced, recalling the foot in mouth syndrome he’d developed.

Buck had never been as nervous as in this moment. Not when he had to tell his parents the first time he got kicked out of college. Or when his teenage self sat beside one of his flings waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. Not even on his first date with Abby.

“You’ll be fine.” You soothed the anxious man standing by your side on the doorstep of your childhood home. The door opened, revealing Luke standing with a grimace, “Oh Mom, made you wear that.”

Luke had been stuffed into one of the only long-sleeved shirts he owned by your mother. It was a magenta maroon hued corduroy shirt and set off his chocolate hair perfectly. Apparently, your mother hadn’t been able to get him into a pair of pants that weren’t skinny, black or ripped.

“We’re meeting your boyfriend, not the damn Pope-”

“You wouldn’t be wearing that if the Pope was involved.” You retorted, stepping to tug the younger Patterson into your arms. The only thing you adored about your little brother was he never denied a hug. Physical touch is his love language, so he never went through a phase.

“Lucas, don’t let them freeze on the front porch!” Emily shouted from within the Patterson home. Luke rolled his eyes at his mother’s request.

“Luke, this is my boyfriend, Evan Buckley. Buck, this is my not so little brother Luke.” You swiftly introduced the most important males in your life.

Luke and Buck got along better than any previous partner you’d brought home. He got along with your parents really well. Even when he slightly embarrassed himself as the time came to go home, whether it was his place or yours. He kissed your mother’s cheek and shook hands with your father.

“No offence, but thank you for having a heart attack and a coma. If you hadn’t, I’m sure I would have never met Y/N.”

Luke snickered at Buck’s odd choice of words, as did your parents. A part of Buck dreaded the next time he’d see your parents.

The gentle press of lips against your cheek pulled you from your thoughts of the first family dinner. Despite the issues between Luke and your parents, they were great people and parents; Buck had felt like he finally fit in. Even with that awkward thankful he gave your brother and dad, he was family the minute Mitch and Emily saw the mutual looks.

“How are we gonna do this?”

“Well, as the pregnant one, I’ll carry the little Bean until it’s time for them to enter the world. Then we’ll-”

“I get that but with our jobs?”

You felt guilty at the dread of not getting to do what you love, but you were excited, “I’ll keep working as a paramedic. I’ll stay away from fires, and then I’ll go on mat leave. We’ll make this work, Buck.”

Buck leaned down to rest his forehead against yours with his eyes closed, envisioning how life was about to change. Buck adored children. He had loved Christopher from the moment he’d first met him. Buck himself was a kid at heart.

“I didn’t think I could fall more in love, but you continue to surprise me each time,” Buck murmured with that gorgeous smile that utterly melted your heart from the first time you saw it. Back when you tried to deny any feelings beyond friendship.

“We’re so lucky to have you, Evan Buckley.” You breathed as you leaned up to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Although it was mostly clashing of teeth with the matching wide grins on your face.

“This little girl is gonna be a heartbreaker but no boyfriends or girlfriends until they’re thirty.” Buck declared, tugging you into his arms. His blue eyes twinkling in the natural lighting.

“It could be a boy.”

“Or maybe neither. Boy, girl or non-binary, I’ll love them just as much.” Buck spoke once more.

Gideon Buckley was born in the early morning to the pride of his parents and extended family. He was a healthy solid 8 pounds with sparse dark blonde hair and the trademark grey-blue newborn eyes. You everyone but Buck and your surprise Gideon wasn’t alone. Grace Buckley followed her older twin brother eight minutes later.

You rested against the propped up pillows spent from the exhausting hours of labour, but it was worth it. The two tiny babies snuggled beneath the swaddling blanket concealing your bare chest. Skin to skin contact was absolutely the best part of being a parent.

“Did you steal a baby?” Chim joked upon entering the hospital room with Maddie in tow. Right behind them were your parents and Luke.

“I’d like you to meet our twins Gideon and Grace Buckley. Surprise!” Buck quietly cheered in the nearly silent room. Buck’s curated newly parents playlist gently playing in the background.

Mitch and Emily came closer to look at the little loves they proudly got to claim as their first grandchildren. Emily’s heart melted upon hearing Gracie coo in her sleep. Grace and Gideon’s fist pressed against each other.

“Congratulations.” Maddie breathed, bending to catch a peek at the twins’ faces.

“Luke. Would you like to meet your goddaughter and godson?” You questioned the nervous musician. The nineteen-year-old tiptoed his way to the hospital bed.

“I’m both their godfather?” Luke choked as soon as Buck gently transferred Gideon onto his uncle’s chest.

“There’s no one else in the world I’d choose to help guide them in the right direction. You always found your way back onto the right path. You’ll do the same for them.” Buck answered with Gracie nestled on his chest.

Buck was the first to hold them followed by you and then their godfather Luke.

Gid and Gracie, although unseen, had been in Luke’s graduation pictures and watched as Julie and the Phantoms signed with a record label. Where Gid was, Luke wasn’t far beyond; the special bond melted everyone. Likewise with Gracie and Alex.

Gid overall was a happy baby compared to Grace. Loved visiting the firehouse. Loved the people working with their father and previously their mother. For the entire first year of Gideon and Grace’s life, you stayed at home with the utter support of Buck.

“First day back.” Hen spoke from beside you on the bench in the women’s change room. As a fellow mother, she’d been watching your behaviour.

“I miss them. I feel guilty that I abandoned them-”

“Okay, your feelings are valid, but you aren’t abandoning Gideon or Grace. You’re teaching them that you can be a great mom while also being a badass firefighter. I was the same when I went back to work after we got Denny.”

“Do you ever wish you could be a stay at home mom?”

“I love Denny with my entire heart, but I couldn’t do that. I was meant to be a paramedic firefighter as much as Denny’s mother. Besides, I can see Maddie pushing in the double stroller.”

Your head snapped to see your sister in law beaming with the double stroller carrying Gideon and Grace. Maddie’s daughter sitting on the seat made for a toddler. Maddie and Chimney had come to a decision for Maddie to work part-time.

Hen watched as you bounded out of the changeroom in uniform to scoop the twins into your arms. In a split second, Buck was down the stairs cooing at the absolute loves of his life. His partner and two children.

Buck would forever be grateful for finding his way to the 118, where he found his true family. A place of acceptance, love, trust and loyalty. Buck found his place in the world, and that was beside you.

Tag List(s): (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

Julie and the Phantoms Taglist

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @merceret @kexrtiz @biqherosix @lukewearingbeanies @dangersolns @soverignparker @omgdani17 @julessbrown

9-1-1 Taglist:

@julessbrown @msmarvelsmain

#evan buckley imagines #evan buckley x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #patterson!reader x brother!Luke Patterson #sunset curve #911 imagines #911 oneshots #oliver stark #evan buckley oneshot #luke patterson #jatp au #jatp modern au #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #911 imagine #caitsy and ash productions

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Unlucky

Part 2: ‘Lucky Me’

Corpse Husband x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Corpse decides to email back a person who has sent him quite a few creepy stories. She never seems to run out of scary encounters of both sorts: paranormal and stranger-danger. He gets suspicious that the stories are all made up so she can grab his attention, but he’s in for a surprise.

U/N - username

Requested: No

Corpse’s POV

I’m looking through my most recent emails from fans. They are all of scary encounters they’ve allegedly experienced. By now, I’ve read so many, it’s easy to decipher which are real and which are just made up nonsense. Some, I must admit, give me chills. Big props to the people who write those, especially if they are made up. If you can make someone’s skin crawl with your twisted, frightening imagination, you have one, for lack of a better term and in the most positive way, fucked up mind.

My cursor lands on the familiar username I see almost every other week. U/N. They have been sending stories consistently for about three years now. They, and I’m saying they cause you can never be sure who’s hiding behind the username, are either the most unlucky person to walk the planet or the one with most twisted imagination and story telling skills. I’ll admit, sometimes I narrate a story just because it’s well written. Believability is not the only thing I go by, I also reward creativity. And this person, U/N, has had their spot in many of my videos in the last three years. I’m honestly hoping they are made up, or at least some of them, because not only are there too many of them, but none of them fail to give me that eerie paranoia after I read them or the chills while I read them.

Once again, they have submitted a downright terrifying story. It would be a shame if I didn’t narrate it.

It would be a shame if I....

If I never actually meet them.

This many run-ins with people with malicious intent, always getting away by some miracle, what if they one day don’t make it out alive to tell it.

My heart sinks a little at the thought. I feel like I know this person, like we’ve known each other for three years now. They know the things the whole internet knows about me, and I, along with my regular watchers, know their stories. That’s by no means enough, now that I think about it.

My next action is really out of character for me. I decide to reach out to them. My fingers fly over the buttons on my keyboard too fast for my rational side to try and stop them. Deep down, I know I’m doing the rightest wrong thing I’ve ever done. My previously sunk heart is now in its assigned spot again, beating quickly.

You don’t know what you’re doing

I maybe don’t, but knowing isn’t what’s important right now. I just wanna do it.

~ Hey, this is probably, what, your twentieth story so far. I’m just curious, how many of these are made up? By the way, your stories are amazing and I’ll probably keep narrating them even if they aren’t real. They’re just that good.

I send the email before I can talk myself out of it. I get up from my chair immediately afterwards, putting as much distance between me and the computer as possible, silently promising myself I won’t be checking my mail every five minutes.

Y/N’s POV

I anxiously refresh and refresh my email inbox, waiting for the dreaded email back from my professor. Being halfway through the college experience, I know how tough this professor’s class is and how much I suck at it. I sent him my completed assignment last night, barely making the deadline mind you, so now I’m sweating hardcore, staring my computer screen down.

After refreshing for the millionth time, I’m met with a new email which makes my heart stop for a second or two, my stomach dropping. Then I take the time to read the sender’s name, the subject and the first sentence of the email, and all the previous changes in me reverse. My heartbeat picks up speed, going faster than a galloping horse and my stomach turns, making me feel the sensation everyone calls ‘butterflies’.

Nah, man. This shit ain’t real. It can’t be.

But then again, what if it is. What if I’m about to full-on ignore my favorite youtuber because of my paranoia. Well, it’s not exactly unsupported. My life has been a shit show of unfortunate event and situations I’ve literally had to claw my way out of in order to stay alive. Now, when something of the sort happens, it’s just another weekday. However, I still wanna share these encounters. Not only because they are proof of the dangers girls have to deal with on a daily basis, but they also get narrated by one of my favorite people ever. What more can a girl ask for?

~ Listen, I’m really not looking forward to getting catfished. Please leave me alone

It’s short, not sweet, and to the point. It’s easy to understand, and it clearly states that I’m not falling for it if it’s a scam, but if it’s real....someone call 911 cause I think I’ll faint.

~ I get it, you have trust issues. But that’s understandable. From the creepy guy messaging you on all your social media. To the stalker you had from you high school, or even that teacher that turned out to not be a teacher at all and just a pedo, I see where the lack of trust is coming from. But I assure you, they only thing I wanna do is chat.

The shock and happiness overwhelm me when the reply arrives not even ten minutes later.

Holy shit, this is him.

I start typing and then erase the typed half-sentence at least three times before receiving another email from him. From Corpse Husband. Corpse freaking Husband. How the fuck am I supposed to compose myself enough to reply to him, let alone sound cool and leave a good impression.

My hand shakes as I click the newly received email.

~ You probably don’t know what to say. Either that or you just don’t wanna talk to me. If you’re just baffled and surprised, reply with your name. If you want me to fuck off, ignore this email completely.

The smile I didn’t realize was there grows into a grin as small bursts of laughter escape me. Laughter caused by disbelief and shock. The type of laugh you let out when you score a good mark on the test you thought you completely fucked up.

~ Y/N. My name’s Y/N.

PS: The stories are all 100% real. All happened. In the order I sent them too. And before you ask, I guess I’m just unlucky, but you are proving me wrong right now.

I don’t know where that confidence at the end came from, but I don’t care really. All that matters is that this might just actually be happening and it might be the best thing to ever happen to me.

~ Man, you’ve had it rough. Tell me, is there an easier way to access you than email. Like Insta DMs? I feel we have a lot to talk about and email is not the most convenient.

At this point, it feel so much like a fever dream that I decide to treat it as though it is. I just go with the flow.

~ Yeah, but first.....am I really not being catfished right now?

The email I receive as a reply to this message is empty of text but there’s a file attached. Not gonna lie, I am a bit hesitant to open it, but I decide that if this turns bad, I’ll just have to deal with it. In the meantime, I’ll believe it’s not a scam.

It’s an audio file: “No, Y/N, you are not being catfished.”

That voice. That god damn voice. It could convince me of anything.

And now it’s convinced me into believing him. And finally letting out that squeal I was holding back before sending him my Instagram username.

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader #requests open #request #husband #corpse simp #love #romance #among us

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sambvcks · 4 years ago

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crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor.

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her.

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #crawl home to her #sab writes

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thebonerpit · 4 years ago

Text

cheerleader [FIC]

cheerleader

Rom Howney, 3896 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

A very seasonally appropriate fic in which Robert throws a Halloween party. Tom hates Halloween but decides to wear a costume he's wanted to try for years.

“I just don’t understand it.”

Tom frowns as he stares at the racks upon racks of zombies, clowns, vampires, and sexy nurses in front of him.

“I mean, to be fair, you don’t understand much of anything, do you mate?”

“Fuck off,” Tom says, whacking Harrison on the arm. “But seriously! Why do Americans go so absolutely mental for this stupid holiday?”

“Again, having trouble with the fact that you, an actor, who plays dress-up FOR A LIVING, doesn’t understand this. It’s not like this is any weirder than a fancy dress party. Plus, you get candy!”

Ok, he does have a point there.

Tom lets out a deep sigh. He wouldn’t even be bothering with all this if it weren’t for Robert. An invitation appeared in his inbox last week for a Halloween party, and when you’re invited to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s house, you don’t turn it down. Even if Halloween is incredibly stupid. He shuffles along through the rows of costumes, rolling his eyes at werewolf masks and inflatable dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. Harrison groans, his hands already full of the various parts of a Mad Hatter costume.

“Just pick something, who cares?!”

“There’s too many options!”

“Ok, look. Halloween is the chance to dress any way you want to and have no one judge you for it. Just think about that. What have you always wanted to be?”

Tom immediately knows what the answer is, but instead of replying he just huffs and turns down another aisle that’s covered in fairy wings and glitter. He can’t possibly do it. Especially not for this party. For Robert’s party. It would be… inappropriate. He rounds the corner again and is faced with a shockingly huge assortment of superhero costumes. A foam version of Thor’s hammer sits on the shelf to his right, and he smirks as he picks it up and gives it a good twirl.

“In your face, Hemsworth,” he mutters quietly.

There’s a whole row of different Spider-Man costumes which makes him smile, especially when he sees a flimsy synthetic fabric version of the Iron Spider suit. And right next to that – a placement that thrills him even more than the suit alone - are the Iron Man costumes. Plastic faceplates, arc reactor gloves with LED lights, fabric onesies with fake, puffy muscles sewn in… it’s all there. Tom runs a finger along the edge of the faceplate before snatching his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s all he can think about, even as they leave the store after Harrison buys his costume and Tom walks out empty-handed. He thinks about it on the ride home and through dinner until he finally makes excuses and runs off to hide in his room, laptop in hand, and puts on Iron Man 2. It doesn’t take long to get to the scene he wants. Tony Stark, diving through fireworks, landing on a flashy stage, surrounded by his Ironettes. Tom bites his lip as he stares intently at the bright red booty shorts, the long gloves, the crop tops… maybe, if he altered it just a bit, if he wore the mask… He can already feel his face heating up at the prospect of walking into Robert’s house dressed like that. Would he laugh? Would he be weirded out? Or… would he like it? Tom pushes the laptop off to the side and lets the movie play as he touches himself, coming to the sound of Robert’s voice in his headphones.

* * * * *

Tom is going to throw up. It’s inevitable, at this point. He’s in the back of a car squished between Harry and Harrison and he’s going to throw up. His stomach is in knots and he can’t remember ever being this nervous in his life. He’s used to the fluttering before a big stage performance or audition, but those nerves are more like excitement. This is sheer terror and he is going to THROW UP.

“Can you calm down? Jesus, you’re going to ruin my costume if you don’t stop squirming!” Harrison jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Tom jerks away into Harry who pushes him back.

“I just… I need some air.”

“The windows are all open! Take the mask off!”

That is the absolute last thing he wants to do. He was only able to leave the house in this costume with the mask securely over his face and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take it off. He must be red as a tomato.

“Look, we’re here!” Harry crows. The car finally comes to a stop and they all pile out. Tom wants to collapse on the soft grass but he’s pulled along by four strong hands.

“Maybe I should… Look, I’ll just wait out here for a bit, ok? I just need—”

“Nope, absolutely not. Look mate, we already told you, he’s going to love it. Maybe not in the way you want him to-“ Tom punches Harry in the arm for that “-BUT, regardless, he’ll love it. You look great. And this is coming from someone who never turns down an opportunity to tell you you’re an ugly twat.”

“That was… almost sweet,” Tom says, and then yelps as they both drag him inside.

The party is in full swing and is absolutely packed with people. Small groups are standing around chatting, all in costume, and a live band is playing in the huge backyard to a crowded dancefloor. Tom recognizes only a few people – it’s hard to miss Scarlett even when she’s dressed like Morticia Addams – but that doesn’t bother him. Normally he loves mingling and meeting new people, and even dressed as he is it’s still exciting. It’s even easier after he quickly downs a few strong drinks, careful to only pull up the mask as far as it needs to go. The urge to vomit has pretty much dissipated and he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself, twirling around the dancefloor like a maniac until he’s slightly sweaty and out of breath.

“Water break!” he yells to Harry and squeezes through the crowd of people to get some air and hydrate. He finds a relatively quiet corner where he can chug half a water bottle in peace and is enjoying the cool air on his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles and nearly drops the bottle but manages to save it before turning around.

“Nice catch.”

Oh fuck. It’s him. It’s Robert. He hasn’t seen him the whole evening and assumed he was off being a good host so the whole thing almost slipped his mind, but now it’s all rushing back and he has to grip on to the fence post beside him to steady himself.

“Love the costume. Not exactly how I remember the Ironettes looking but I gotta say, this might be an improvement.”

Tom nearly chokes. He decided he couldn’t pull off the real Ironette costume as the distinct lack of breasts made it look a little awkward. So, he improvised. The shiny red and gold booty shorts stayed, of course. They made his ass look incredible. He bought the long red and gold arc reactor gloves and the plastic faceplate from the Halloween store, and instead of heeled boots he found a pair of gold high-tops and knee-high red socks. The shirt was the most difficult part, though. He went through a few variations before settling on something cute and comfortable: a red, cropped tank top. It was a bit loose and thin, so it flowed around his chest nicely and was short enough to show off his abs and his tiny waist. He also managed to find an LED necklace to serve as his arc reactor. It glowed a soft blue through the thin fabric of the shirt. Overall, he’s incredibly proud of what he came up with. Especially for someone who hates Halloween.

And now, with the way Robert is staring at him, he’s VERY happy he was brave enough to wear it.

“Is there someone under that gorgeous mask? Or are you too shy to say hello?”

Tom steels himself, takes a deep breath, and pulls the mask off.

Robert’s face goes through a myriad of emotions almost all at once. Shock, delight, amusement, and what is unmistakably arousal.

“Well. Tom Holland. As I live and breathe.” His voice is lower than before, more intimate, and when he takes a step forward Tom swears he feels the temperature go up by at least two degrees. He also notices that Robert is wearing eyeliner. The black kohl makes his eyes look even more gorgeous, and then there’s the red glitter dusted across his cheeks and around his hairline that is giving him an almost eerie glow.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Tom asks. Robert smirks and points to the two small horns sticking out from his hair.

“The Devil, of course.”

“Of course,” Tom repeats weakly. It was barely a costume, the deep maroon suit looking more like red carpet attire than anything else, but fuck it looked incredible on him.

“I am the purveyor of sin on this fine evening,” he says, gesturing to the party, “so I thought I’d play the part. But you… you look far more sinful than me.”

Tom squeaks as Robert steps even closer and taps at the arc reactor on his chest.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“Just… just wanted to show you how much of a fan I am… Mr. Stark.”

Robert’s eyes snap up to Tom’s and he doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at so intensely in his entire life.

“Is that so… Mr. Parker?”

Tom whines, loud enough for Robert to hear it. His hand travels down Tom’s body to squeeze at the bare skin of his waist.

“I think—”

“Robert!!”

They both jerk back as if they’re waking up from a trance. Someone is yelling for Robert and waving him inside, and he acknowledges them with a quick gesture. Turning back to Tom, he licks his lips and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I think we’ll have to continue this later. Don’t leave without saying goodnight. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yes. O-ok. See you later,” Tom stutters, and when Robert disappears inside he chugs the rest of the water bottle and collapses back against the fence to catch his breath.

* * * * *

All the telltale signs of a party winding down are there. Most people have left, the band has stopped playing leaving only some low background music emanating from the speakers around the house, and the guests that remain are splayed out on various couches and chairs, half their costumes missing and happily drunk. The kitchen is a disaster and Tom feels bad adding more bottles to the mess, but he’s on a mission and can’t stop to tidy. After his run-in with Robert he only saw him briefly a few more times, mostly through a massive crowd, but he didn’t forget his words from earlier.

Don’t leave without saying goodnight.

Harrison and Harry have already gone home. They tried to get him to come with but Tom pretended to be enthralled in a conversation and told them he’d catch up in a bit. Now he’s wandering the massive house, peeking into various rooms as he looks for Robert. He gave up on wearing the mask after they met in the yard so it’s pushed up on his head like some sort of strange visor, his curls a sweaty mess beneath it. The second floor is quiet and empty; no one really came up here during the party anyway so it’s also much cleaner. A set of closed double doors is in front of him, and it’s the only place he hasn’t looked, so…

Tom slowly opens one door and pokes his head inside. Robert is lounging on a massive bed, scrolling on an iPad, glasses perched on his nose. He’s still got the horns on his head, and when he glances up over the rim of his glasses to smirk at Tom, he really does look positively devilish.

“Found you,” Tom says, trying to appear completely casual when his heart feels like it’s about to explode from under his ribcage.

“So you did. Come in. Close the door.”

Robert makes no effort to move so Tom slowly walks over to the bed, suddenly very conscious of how tight his shorts are as Robert unabashedly roams over his body with hungry eyes. He stops at the edge and toes at the plush carpet with one foot.

“Have you been drinking?”

Tom nods.

“How much?”

“Not that much,” Tom replies, understanding what Robert is trying to ask. “But maybe just enough to give me some liquid courage.”

Robert raises an eyebrow but waits patiently for Tom to make the first move, only shifting slightly to drop the iPad and his glasses on the nightstand. Guess it’s now or never.

He kneels on the edge of the bed with one leg first, testing the waters. Robert stays perfectly still. A deep inhale to steady himself and then Tom goes for it, pushing up on the bed and straddling Robert’s lap. He hesitates for only a moment before settling right on the seam of those expensive maroon trousers.

A pleased hum rumbles out of Robert’s chest as he runs two smooth, warm hands up Tom’s spread thighs to his waist.

“My own personal cheerleader, hm? I always knew you looked up to me but I never expected this… Pete.”

He catches Tom’s eye and gives him a brief wink. Tom’s heart speeds up even more as excitement bubbles in his stomach. Playing. Robert is playing with him. He was desperately hoping he wouldn’t drop this, leave it as the brief tease it was back in the yard. Acting with Robert is one of his favourite things in the entire world, and being able to do it like this? God, for the first time he’s actually happy that Tony Stark is dead because he’s never going to be able to act across from him again without thinking of this moment.

Robert nuzzles into his neck and starts leaving wet, sucking kisses all along the line of his throat. Tom shivers at the sensation and then starts to giggle when the tickle of Robert’s beard is too much against his sensitive skin. Robert laughs into his neck and nips playfully.

“You’re so darn cute,” he whispers. Robert has always been free with his compliments, telling Tom he’s handsome or pretty or talented, but somehow it just hits different when his hands are also squeezing Tom’s ass.

“Want to touch you, Mr. Stark,” Tom murmurs into his ear, easily switching his accent to sound even more like Peter. He feels Robert shudder underneath him and can’t help the pleased smirk that crosses his face.

“Yeah?” Robert says, grasping his chin gently so he can look into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Tom absolutely knows what he’s doing, but Peter…

“I… uh… I was hoping you could teach me. I’m a really quick learner, sir,” he says softly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Robert mutters, breaking character for a moment. He collects himself quickly though, shifting Tom in his lap just enough so he can undo his trousers and pull himself out. Tom’s mouth literally waters at the sight of Robert’s dick and he uses every ounce of willpower not to just pounce on him immediately.

“Want to feel your mouth, Pete,” Robert says, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s lower lip. “You can go slow. Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Tom replies, trying not to sound too eager. He shuffles down a little and purposely sticks his ass up in the air. The red and gold shimmer on the shorts catches the dim light and he gives his hips a quick wiggle when he sees Robert staring.

“Maybe I should’ve reworked the design on your suit, hm? You like wearing little shorts like this?”

Tom nods and presses his face into the curls at the base of Robert’s dick, inhaling the scent of him. He feels the thick cock jerk against his cheek and angles his head to lick up the whole length of it, swirling his tongue at the tip. The bitter taste of precome blooms in his mouth and he moans, forgetting himself for a moment as he starts to give a much more experienced blowjob than what Peter would be capable of. Robert knocks the mask off Tom’s head so he can tighten his hand in his messy curls.

“Jesus,” Robert groans, “you’re good at this, kid.”

“Mmm, just want to make you feel good, sir,” Tom hums. He manages to remove one of the arc reactor gloves so he can grip Robert’s cock while he uses his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Well, you’re doing a—fuck, god—a damn fine job.”

Tom thinks he could stay here forever, on his knees, mouth stretched almost painfully around Robert’s cock. He explores up his chest with his other hand, rubbing at one nipple with his thumb which makes Robert jerk underneath him.

“Keep doing that,” Robert spits out as he pushes Tom’s head down even further. He gags a bit but the incredible sensation of being stuffed and used overrides everything else and he takes every inch Robert gives him while tugging and pinching at his apparently very sensitive nipples. He drifts for a bit, so content and fuzzy, and only comes back when Robert pulls him off and throws him down on the bed.

“Pull up that shirt for me, sweetheart. Gonna paint your pretty chest with my come.”

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, please, please, want it,” Tom moans, shoving the fabric out of the way as Robert jerks himself off quickly above him. He can’t decide whether to watch his dick or his face when he finally comes, thick and white all over his chest and the arc reactor necklace. Robert’s slightly red in the face and gasping for breath as he steadies himself with a hand beside Tom’s head. Tom leans to the side to kiss at his knuckles and then dares to run his fingers through the come on the necklace and bring it to his mouth to taste.

“You’re going to give an old man a heart attack,” Robert says. His pupils are all blown out as he watches Tom hollow his cheeks as he sucks. Tom understands the feeling. He’s so hard in his shorts that it’s painful.

“Please,” he whispers, biting his lip, “will you touch me, Mr. Stark?”

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Parker,” he replies. He palms him over the shorts which makes Tom buck into his hand. “As much as I love these… they have to go.”

The shorts are so tight that they both struggle to pull them down but finally they’re tossed off to a distant corner of the bedroom and Tom hisses as Robert immediately get his mouth on his cock. It feels absolutely heavenly, especially after being trapped in the confines of that uncomfortable fabric for so long. Robert takes his time, licks and sucks everywhere he can, all the way down to that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Tom whimpers as his tongue gets so fucking close to his hole but then pulls away.

“Want to use my fingers… s’that ok?”

“Y-yeah, please, yes!”

Robert grabs some lube from the nightstand and even warms it first before sliding one thick finger over Tom’s hole, pressing just the tip inside. Aside from the thrill of having Robert’s finger inside of him, the most incredible part is that he doesn’t stop sucking him off. The level of coordination is astounding and Tom would have complimented him on it if he was able to speak beyond moans and pleas for more. A second finger quickly joins the first and Tom’s body accepts it without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Robert murmurs in between gentle licks, “look at you, hm? So pretty and pink.”

Robert shifts him down a bit more which makes his legs fall open even wider. He feels so exposed and whines a little, trying to draw his knees close without squeezing Robert too much.

“Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” Robert says. “You can put your legs up on me if that helps, ok?”

He hears the rubber of his high-tops squeak against Robert’s skin and somehow the sound is more obscene than anything else. He tries not to thump his heels too hard but fuck, Robert is doing something with his tongue that should be illegal and Tom can’t stop squirming. A low chuckle reverberates against his stomach as Robert pulls off briefly, his fingers still working in slow, gentle pushes.

“Aren’t you sensitive, hm?”

“P-please, Ro—Mr. Stark, please, need to come,” Tom begs, accent slipping slightly as he tries to shove himself down even deeper on Robert’s thick fingers. He’s held in place by the firm grip of Robert’s other hand on his waist and he whines petulantly.

“Anything for my favourite little spider,” Robert coos. He crooks his fingers and Tom arches up off the bed like he’s been shocked. He feels like he’s been on the edge since they first met in the yard and now Robert’s fingers are pressing right on his prostate and his hot mouth is back on his dick and he doesn’t think he could possibly hold off any longer if he tried.

“Gonna… gonna…” Tom’s whole body is taut, like a wire ready to snap, and when Robert takes him all the way down his throat he comes with a ragged gasp. Distantly he thinks he should be considerate and pull out but it’s like his body isn’t under his control anymore, and even though he hears wet choking noises it seems like Robert is just fine with him coming in his mouth. His fingers have stopped moving and he lets Tom clench around them for a few moments before gently sliding them out. Tom whines at the loss even though he’s so oversensitive right now he couldn’t possibly take anymore.

After taking a minute to catch his breath and regain any semblance of normal brain function, he finally looks down. Robert’s eyeliner is smudged and Tom feels a bizarre sense of pride about it. He can’t stop running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair which is also a complete mess.

“Just FYI,” Robert finally says, his voice a little raspy, “you’re going to be finding red glitter in every nook and cranny for about three years after this.” He punctuates that sentence by rubbing his cheek against Tom’s thigh, grinning as he does it.

“You’re a dick,” Tom says fondly, giggling even more as Robert continues to just rub his face all over his body. “But can’t say I’m gonna care that much if I’m being reminded about this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Robert says, that absolutely devilish grin returning, “I can give you more than just glitter for that.” Tom squeals as he starts sucking a deep bruise into the inside of one thigh, teeth marks and all, that Tom presses on every time he sees it for the next week.

#tbpwrites #rom howney #marvel rpf #nff #please do not expect this kind of consistency from me normally lol #usually it takes months in between fics!#but the fandom has been so lovely and active lately that it's inspired me #maybe i'll write some actual starker at some point and not just rpf

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tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

Note

Hey so how does it feel to carry the entire Levihan fandom on your back? I absolutely love all your stories! I always look forward to when you update! I had an idea for a fic but I haven't seen anyone do it. Where past levi wakes ups ( when he only sees hange as a friend) in the future to find that he's happily married to hange or living domestically with her and just contemplates his feelings for her

Title: Unwritten

Summary:

“Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she creates really quality works is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the direction, to the design and just the overall production… And she knows how to do it. When I watch her movies, it feels like they're peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“What makes Hange Zoe's writing special are those in betweens. The unwritten parts... if you know what I mean?"

Levi is assigned to work with screenwriter Hange Zoe and he is left constantly wondering why the hell she's taking her work so seriously.

Link: AO3

Note: I conceptualized this long fic after looking through a some of the prompts in my inbox and playing with them.. TYSM to everyone who sent those. I won't be dropping all the prompts I used when making this now because it might end up spoiling the fic as a whole but I will be dropping the prompts with every chapter I updated.

This fic doesn't actually follow any prompt strictly, I twisted the prompts around them, tore them apart, put them together so they might seem unrecognizable for some.

Either way, I'm very grateful to readers who are sending me prompts. It keeps me writing and brainstorming even when life gets terribly busy.

So thank you for them :D. I'm trying to get back to posting my writing more regularly again and this fic has been sitting in my folder for a while, I was just a little nervous to post it. Thanks to itShailaAM for looking through it!

If neither of us remember anything… Then it’s like it never happened right?

The voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic. It had a unique way of twisting at his gut, spidering up his spine then leaving an almost painful pang in his chest.

Despite the overwhelming sensations, Levi found himself still able to take control.

So he reached out.

Then he was chasing after her again.

Chasing… He then wondered. How long had he been chasing? How long had he been awake?

With the first light of morning, whatever message, whatever meaning he could have made up for himself dissipated.

Or maybe it was never there to begin with.

For the first time in years or even decades, Levi was wasting his early morning window before work. He wasn’t doing much of anything but staring up at the white ceiling in some feeble attempt to make sense of it again. He came up empty save for two things: a faint throbbing in his head and a half hearted conclusion that maybe it really was just some fevered dream.

“Good morning!" Someone was right next to him. Her voice was higher, more mellow. A hairs breadth away from his ear though, it grated.

Levi narrowed his eyes and the blur cleared somewhat. “Petra?” He heard himself speak. He was in an unfamiliar in-between, completely in control of himself, yet strangely disconnected. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Petra put one hand on the back of her head and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about barging in like this…” She didn’t have to apologize. They were childhood friends and with all the family gatherings they had spent together growing up, they were more than comfortable just flitting in and out of each other’s apartments.

Levi didn’t respond. There were more important things to think about like the slow and almost painful process of sitting up. That morning, he was a little more careful than usual.

“Your mom told me to check on you.” Petra continued.

“Typical,” he muttered coldly. He turned towards the window, and took in the view of the blue sky, a few stories above ground. It should calm him if he stared at it long enough. “She always overreacts,” he added. At that point, the crankiness had started to subside and Levi realized he didn’t mind the doting too much. His mother had always been like that anyway. Growing up, a sprained ankle or an animal bite from a family pet had always been enough for Kuchel to insist on a visit to the doctor.

Petra let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t blame her though. Since the accident, she’s been asking about you every...”

Everyday. Levi completed it for her. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother had asked about him every hour. “She can always ask me directly,” he said out loud before Petra could finish. He didn’t feel too bad about interrupting. Petra had been speaking particularly slowly since a while ago and if he let her speak like that for any longer, they might not get anything done.

As if she had read his mind or at least noticed the impatience, she immediately gathered herself. “You always downplay it,” she said, more clearly this time.

“She always exaggerates it.”

“That accident was pretty bad though.” Petra cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you understand that, right?”

Levi averted his gaze for a brief second. He couldn’t deny that part. That accident had apparently been bad enough to merit a month long hospital stay, bad enough for Levi to not remember much of it aside from the phantom pains in his chest, And bad enough to take the brunt of the pain and the inconvenience of dealing with the symptomatic disorientation, the fatigue and the begrudging need for some support.

A few seconds of reflection later, Levi concluded maybe there was good reason for that overreaction. “But I can take care of myself.”

Ironically, his body chose that moment to teeter.

“Hey, you okay?” Petra put one warm hand on his shoulder. “You think you can make it to work today?”

The throbbing at the back of his head had dulled to a bearable ache but he could have sworn it had been worse in the hospital. “I don’t have enough leaves,” he said. He focused for a while longer on Petra’s eyes and saw reason.

Maybe I can take a longer break?

His body was probably silently begging for more leaves. On the contrary, another part of him had been yearning for normalcy for a while. Practicality had been the deciding factor. Although Levi had more than enough leaves, did he have more than he would have been comfortable giving up? Maybe not. He wouldn’t take it anyway. He had more than enough strength to push himself out of bed and pad lightly to the bathroom.

Unwillingly or willingly? He was too tired to tell.

“You were in the hospital just a week ago.” Petra was a voice of reason or a voice of temptation.

“I can’t take any more leaves,” Levi repeated again, as if saying it louder somehow made it more convincing. He made his way to his closet, keeping his strides purposeful, partially for himself, partially for her.

Even for a long time friend, Petra had always been shy and conservative. As soon as Levi motioned to pull his shirt up, she rushed out of the room in some characteristic gesture of modesty.

His bedroom door closed with a click and Levi started to slip his clothes off much faster. His head continued to throb. There was a strange ringing in his ears and the room was a little drafty, typical for early spring.

Levi didn’t have the mind space to prepare for that brush with icy wind. Fucking hell. Discomfort then the desperation that followed had him considering calling in sick again.

After using up three week’s worth though, vacation leaves were starting to feel more like a scam than an actual benefit of the job. He ran through the motions of his typical morning routine. Or at least, what had been typical a month ago. Since the accident, he hadn’t worn anything but loose shirts, pajamas and hospital gowns. Back in the hospital, he had been asleep a lot of that time.

He pulled his pants on, then sluggishly pulled his sweater over him, dolefully noting how snug fitting clothing seemed like strangers to his skin.

He didn’t feel like the same person anymore.

It looked like Petra did notice something was different. Over breakfast, she had pushed the plates closer to him. She did the honors of pouring the scrambled eggs onto his plate, then placing a loaf of bread right next to him. “Eat, we have a long day ahead.”

Levi mumbled something that could have been a ‘thanks’ or a ‘yes.’ He didn’t think too far about it either. There were more pressing things to deal with, like internally psyching himself up for his first day back at work and finding routine once again in the recovery process.

For a few minutes after, the two were silent in the small kitchen save for the sound of chewing and the sound of cutlery clacking on the plate.

“Hey Levi,” Petra hesitantly broke the silence. “You really don't remember what happened?” She had asked that question countless times before, back at the hospital, on his first day back at home and every single time she paid a visit.

He chalked it up to worry. In some semblance of a response, Levi downed the bread in his mouth in one painful gulp, then took a sip of tea. “I remember waking up in the hospital.”

“Before that.”

Levi dropped the half eaten bread on the plate and stared straight up at the ceiling for a second. “Leaving work,” he answered. It was too vague of an answer and Petra didn't seem satisfied.

Of course she wouldn’t be satisfied. He always walked the same route home and routine wouldn’t give too much of an answer to the question of how the hell more than a month ago, he had ended up with a severe concussion and a few contusions in the hospital emergency room, a few towns away from his own.

Past was past though. There was no use digging into it. At present, he had medical bills to pay and a career to salvage. No time for a personal investigation. He attempted to digress. “What did I miss?” Levi asked. “At work?” He noted Petra’s very disconcerting expression, a combination of pity and uncertainty. It was starting to get annoying.

Petra furrowed her brows, a little more hesitant to speak that time. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...”

In protest, Levi put the bread down and stared at Petra, his stone cold expression unwavering. He wouldn’t be eating unless Petra continued. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

A few minutes of silence later and it seemed to work. Petra looked down at the bread then up at him. Whatever was plaguing her mind then had taken some control over her. “A lot has changed since the accident,” she started.

“With work?” Levi asked again. He dropped the bread on the plate, deliberately allowing the clatter, as if the loud jarring sound would be enough to drive away the disbelief. Three weeks or fifteen business days wasn’t supposed to be a long time taking into account the speed of office bureaucracy.

Petra nodded, a wry smile on her face. Her expression, her demeanor gave the uncertainty away before she spoke of it. “You’re probably going to have to talk to Mr. Zackley about it…”

Levi’s mind was racing. Despite the throbbing, Levi had managed to fill in the blanks for himself. Even before Petra expounded on it, Levi had started to accept already, going back to work was probably not going to be such an easy ride.

Being gone for weeks had done a number to his job.

Three weeks to be exact. It was just three weeks, fifteen business days. Despite Petra’s apparent discomfort, her incessant warnings not to ‘expect,’ Levi had expected some semblance of normalcy. When his hopes were dashed, Levi felt like he had been body slammed out of nowhere by an oncoming train.

“I’ve been working on their set for years…Since the pilot episode, ” Levi said slowly. Hell, since even before the pilot episode if you consider the preproduction stage. He didn’t want it to seem at all like it was an argument and he subdued his tone to something lighter, with the intention of reminding himself not to talk back at authority.

“And we’ve transferred you,” General Manager Darius Zackley said matter-of-factly. “Underground City has been garnering a lot of attention lately and we couldn’t afford to be undermanned at such a crucial point of production.”

“But was it necessary to transfer me?”

Mr. Zackley’s expression softened. He didn't have a natural expression that demanded authority but he made up for it with reason. “It’s a primetime show,” he explained. “One of our best, and given the uncertainty regarding your accident…” For some reason, he had hesitated at that word. “We couldn’t take a gamble. We had you immediately replaced after the first week.”

“And?” At face value, the new developments were starting to seem terribly, terribly disappointing. “I can still work there.” Levi was perfectly aware of where the conversation was going. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.

Mr. Zackley was surprisingly patient. “It’s not an issue of you not fitting in. But we want to properly and more efficiently distribute our labor. The production of Underground City is currently…” He cleared his throat. “Oversaturated.”

Oversaturated with budget, resources. Underground City was a crime and mystery drama, one of their more high budget productions. Levi wasn’t too surprised at that piece of information, having worked closely with the producers and the writers since the pilot.

With a boss a few reporting levels above his own though, Levi couldn’t do much but listen quietly. Disappointment and uncertainty loomed over him and he was tiring more quickly.

“We’ve made some arrangements, set you up with a new role.” Mr. Zackley was taking his sweet time, his painfully sweet time.

At the butt end of Mr. Zackley’s whims, Levi was a mess. He racked his brain for all possible outcomes of the ‘arrangements’, a painful process, hampered by the weight of too many possibilities. They were a medium sized network that produced most of their own TV shows on top of news coverage and documentaries, still too many for Levi to have cared enough about to count.

At that moment, he was determined to make up for lost time. Naturally, his mind first flew to the more well known productions, those that had been receiving the best ratings in prime time TV since he had started working there.

Underground City. Military Police.

Working at the set of the crime drama ‘Underground City’ had been a good run for Levi, one he would have liked to continue but Mr. Zackley said so himself, they replaced him. ‘Military Police,’ one of their more popular historical war dramas, also received one of the bigger chunks of their budget. With Zackley’s very sullen expression, it looked like he wasn’t at all there to give Levi a promotion.

He didn’t really mind not working on the ‘Military Police’ set anyway. Everyone there seemed like a lazy prick and that long running drama had always seemed overrated to him. What else would be waiting for him though? “To where?” Levi pressed.

The old man hummed for a second, leaned forward on his seat. “I talked to Erwin about this and we have an opening in one of our daytime shows.”

“Erwin?” Levi repeated. The name was more than just familiar and he allowed himself a brief moment to recall. Erwin Smith. One of the more prominent in-house directors. Just digging deep into his mind, riling up whatever was causing the headache in the first place. He sat still and waited for it to subside again.

Then he wondered if it had been physical or just an emotional reaction to the mess he found himself in. He was barely recovering, he was plunged into a new position and he was confused, utterly confused.

“Consider it a temporary position until something else opens up,” Mr. Zackley added. “Given that you just got back from the hospital, it would be better if you started small.” He shot Levi a placating look. “Either way, this is a good opportunity for you, Ackerman…” It didn’t seem so genuine. “To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.”

Zackley spoke for an eternity longer after that but it had done nothing to make the transfer any better.

Levi had been working with that same hustle and bustle for years and he was confident, a three week break at the height of production wouldn’t have been enough to throw him--- hell, most people off completely.

But he was being treated like some invalid. Zackley’s warm words yet his uninviting demeanor sent some alarm bells ringing inside Levi.Mr. Zackley was overly consoling, overly placating and Levi’s mind was racing.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, willing himself to relax and focus on the present. Whatever the catch was, he’d find out soon anyway.

To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.

What a magnificent fucking lie.

“Start small my ass.” With the stress just piling up and his body barely catching up, Levi was tempted to let it out as anything louder, accompanying it with the very dramatic motion of dropping the paper work on the floor and relishing the loud thud. He imagined scattering the pages on the table, spilling them onto the floor and maybe kicking them out onto some curb.

Then he brushed off that mental image completely.

That would only create an unnecessary mess, maybe even cause a scene in that small cafe. Although his life seemed like it was complete chaos, his fastidious side wouldn’t have allowed him to make it any more worse. Then and there, he deemed it the best option to just take a sip of his tea, allow it to warm him up slowly and create a comfortable distraction, somewhere convenient.

A minute or so later, Levi accepted, tea didn’t do too good of a job. After all, what could tea do, aside from supporting him through the long and painful two days of ‘adjustment’ and the journey to the very frustrating conclusion that the general manager of the studio, Mr. Zackley was too out of touch with the struggles of the average worker.

“Just for long enough to get back to the hustle and bustle of TV production? What a fucking liar,” Levi muttered again. He dropped the tea cup on the saucer with a clank.

“Well, technically you are starting small,” Petra said. “They don’t expect too much quality wise from a soap opera on a day time slot.” She flipped through the pages of scripts and the storyboards that formed an overwhelmingly thick pile of papers on the coffee table.

It wasn’t too thick. Levi stared for a while longer and he decided it was a manageable pile of documents. The soft copies on his laptop were also of a countable number.

The deadline to be completely functional in two days though wasn’t as reasonable.

In search of some semblance of a break, Levi shifted his gaze towards Petra.

Her familiar presence had made the job change bearable. A half hearted response with her attention mostly channelled towards the piles of scripts had still been enough to have Levi more at home in the middle of the coffee shop in the late afternoon. “You didn’t even need to transfer,” Levi said. The indignance and the bitterness of a while ago seemed to be mellowing into something almost sweet.

Petra turned a beet red and she put her hands up in defense. “No no… I wanted to. Besides, this type of set is always in need of more people.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in response. Soap opera sets? Or maybe just daytime soap operas in general. Or maybe just that particular soap opera set. He turned back to the pile of papers on the table then back to his laptop.

The pile of papers on the table was the script for that month alone. The folders in the USB were eight seasons worth of soap opera scripts and episodes. Levi was once again reminded why such a project could have been so undersaturated.

Scratch that, he had never forgotten and he didn’t think he would ever forget anyway.

The script for just that month was much larger than the piles Levi worked with at his previous production. By the second day, he was starting to conclude, working with daytime soap operas was turning out to be a grind, a seemingly thankless grind.

Soap operas ran with the expectation of producing five episodes a week with a shoestring budget. The pressing deadlines and just the amount of content that had to be produced meant vacations and holidays were few and far in between for the average employee. And the unreasonable demands usually meant that quality would naturally suffer.

Since he started assimilating into his job, he also started to wonder. What audience were they even producing soaps for in that day and age?

“Do you think you’ll even enjoy this?” Levi challenged.

“It’s too early to tell,” Petra said.

Levi didn’t want to admit it then, but he was convinced that she would even find a way to enjoy it. The question should have been for him. He was the one who could barely even get past the first page of the script.

Petra flashed him a knowing smile, flipping the pages a little faster. She wasn’t reading them and all attention was on Levi.

Her face could have been asking questions. Or Levi could have been projecting. He repeated the question to himself. What now? More specifically, what was he supposed to do?

Then he answered it. Get used to it? Or maybe just accept it as a job. The grind would eventually get less painful he was sure. But would he ever see the beauty in it?

Levi had never taken the time to watch that particular soap opera but he had seen too many in passing to know what he would be working with.

The stories didn’t make fucking sense. The sets were cheaply made. The lights, the cameras and the resources for special effects were far from what he was given when he was still working with the twenty-one-episodes-a-season, one-season-a-year ‘Underground City.”

According to Erwin, they just didn’t have the budget. Besides, the average viewer didn’t expect much else anyway from a soap opera.

Either way, he was still hired as the cinematographer. This is still your job. Levi took a deep breath then exhaled with a soft huff. First things first, he had to familiarize himself with ten to fifty episodes worth of scripts. That night, he would be watching the blocking, the lighting, the editing, the overall production.

That was the job of the fucking cinematographer anyway. Erwin had warned him though, they were severely undermanned in all facets of production, pre production, production proper and post production. And for shows that aired multiple times a week, that meant, the grind wouldn't end.

So he wouldn’t just be the cinematographer.

At the impending workload that followed his orientation phase, Levi closed his eyes tight. For a second there, his mind flew to other opportunities and just the process of editing his CV and applying elsewhere.

Maybe in a year he would reapply, or maybe even in months.

He wondered if Petra was thinking the same thing. If she were, she didn’t make it obvious. Petra enjoyed the production process just as much as he did and she had been the reason he had found a job there in the first place.

“Welcome back to the working world.” Petra chuckled.

Levi blinked back the surprise in his eyes as he was once again pulled back to reality. Admittedly, he was overwhelmed. The weak throbbing returned and after spending too many hours insisting to Petra that he was ready to go back to work, he didn’t think it right to take a break.

He sipped his tea and deemed that a quick break.

“God I miss our tea times,” Petra said, looking pointedly at Levi's tea caup. She flipped the script over and pulled her teacup towards her.

Levi noted the wistful expression on Petra’s face. “I was only out for a month,”

Petra shook her head. “But for a week or so, we thought you wouldn’t make it.” There was a subtle crack, not too noticeable if Levi hadn’t tensed up and watched her closely.

It was bringing up too many unwelcome emotions at once, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a haze of memories aggravated the throbbing in his head.

Levi turned back to the pile of papers. With the amount of work to do, he would never have the time to ponder what happened anyway. In an attempt at digression, he pulled the script towards him, and started to flip the pages, poring over words yet only taking in half of it.

A very boring half.

Eventually, he gave up. “Let’s go back home. We’re not getting anything done here.” He gathered the pages, and meticulously returned them to each envelope.

He was supposed to be reviewing the scripts to get some idea on how the TV show worked. They had chosen to work in the cafe to escape from the bustle of the sets and attempt some productivity. Yet, they had been in the cafe for a few hours already and he still didn’t remember what the story had been about in the first place.

Soap operas didn’t have logical plots anyway. Levi thought to himself. Maybe just accepting could make his work feel more unbearable. He watched as Petra gathered the pages on her end, stuffed them into her bag.

“Sorry, I thought you would have wanted tea. You always liked this place…” Petra was explaining herself. The not-so-eloquent way at which she did it was a distraction. In fact, everything at that point was either a distraction or even irritating. Levi took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the throbbing take control for a second.

One step at a time. Levi slung his bag over his shoulder. “The tea was good,” he said, more for her than himself. That was a lie. In fact, the tea tasted underwhelming. Tea usually didn’t disappoint though and Levi was starting to suspect the fault was in him. “Just give me some time to get used to life again,” he added, his tone more apologetic that time.

A few seconds or even minutes of reflection later and Levi had to admit, he felt like he really had changed during that break.

Cinematography is visual storytelling. Or so, that was what he had been taught when he started working with TV shows years ago.

When there was no story he could follow, there was no essence or heart to portray. So, Levi naturally approached it like a cold hard science. The hard copies on folders lay abandoned on the coffee table. His laptop remained unopened.

Levi's attention was trained on the big screen. He had silently been sprawled on the sofa since they arrived back to his apartment hours ago. Bundled up in a sweatshirt, legs propped up on the coffee table, Levi was in that convenient trance between relaxing and analyzing.

He had no idea what the couple on the TV had been arguing about. He had no idea who had fathered the large overly tacky baby bump sticking out of the woman.

The latest episode was playing on repeat and Levi remembered two things happening in the past ten minutes. A pregnant woman entering the crappy set of their mansion, hand on her oversized belly and man looked back at her then approached her, a look of abject horror on his face. He was shouting something, obscenities maybe?

By that point, Levi’s mind started to wander with too many other passing thoughts.

The horror at finding out the protagonist was pregnant was overly exaggerated. Were baby bumps really supposed to be that big? And why did it take them that many months to figure it out? How many pregnancies did the protagonist go through? How many love interests did she have?

Then the cinematographer and the photographer in him took over.

There were more important things to look into. The camera never moved. Levi was familiar with multi camera setups and he didn’t need to think too hard about it. Most of the scenes were filmed in the house, in the office, all conveniently made sets, the conveniently written scripts were written around the shitty budget.

And the high frame rate, in tandem with the inorganic lighting, the lack of special effects and just the lack of some careful camera movement, made the overall story and the overall view, underwhelming, not at all cinematic.

The soap opera effect.

Some wouldn’t see it. Others would probably notice it but not glaringly enough to complain. Levi had worked in film for years and when he would search for the characteristic motion blur, he would immediately find it. The culmination of a simple camera set up, a few sets, a cheap camera, and with a studio and network always in some hurry to cut the budget, the soap opera effect was very apparent.

And they would be expecting the same cooperation from him in putting together a cheaply made production. On the bright side, that meant that despite having to deal with some shitty soap opera plot that didn’t make any sense, he wouldn’t have to do too much thinking with lighting, blocking and editing. Planning sets and scenes would be a light stroll in the park at best, soul suckingly monotonous at worst.

Levi reached for the remote and started to rewind, his interest suddenly piqued.

“So what do you think happened to the baby?” Petra asked. She dropped a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Levi wasn’t in any mood to eat. More importantly, he in the mood to speculate the cheap excuse for a plot. “Am I supposed to care?” He pulled his legs close to him and leaned further on the armrest of the sofa, giving Petra more than enough space to get herself comfortable.

“Well, you’re working on the set right? Better to at least know the major plot points of what you’re working with.”

“Spoil me,” Levi said.

Petra reached for the popcorn and grabbed a handful. She turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “You really don’t even wanna try to enjoy it?”

“This is a job. ”

Petra dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well… Hanako gets kidnapped…”

“Hanako?”

“The baby…” Petra answered, looking pointedly at him. “They literally spent an episode discussing the baby’s name.” A laugh was very much evident in her voice.

And there are a hundred episodes to sift through. “I don’t have to know the baby’s name to do my job.”

“The baby will be the main character in the next season. If you have been reading the script--- Or even just following the story...” Petra put her hands out and pointed at the TV, starting to look more exasperated by the minute.

“Okay,” Levi responded firmly, not in any mood to stomach accusations. “Then I’ll learn her name when I start working. Just tell me what I need to know to do my job. ”

Petra sighed. “When we get back on air, there will be a time skip. Then the season post time skip picks up after Hanako’s first day of college. So before that she grew up with her adopted parents who found her abandoned in a box. They went through some tough times financially and in the latest pages of the script she gets a job in a coffee shop.” She turned towards the thick envelope on the table then glanced accusingly at him. “I could have sworn you were reading through that back in the cafe.”

Levi didn’t notice it. He had only half heartedly read the script. Still, he feigned a look of interest.

“Then a lot of the writers quit,” Petra continued. “So a lot of what happened hasn't been written yet.”

Levi flashed Petra a knowing look.

Petra sighed. "Apparently, people were overworked, the job didn't pay much so a lot of the crew, cinematographer, production designers, they all left which was most likely why they put you there.”

Levi only had to look back at his first day and his second day to understand the turnover rate. He had spent a little less than an hour familiarizing himself with systems that seemed to be put into place for show. Soon after that, he was bombarded with unreasonable deadlines, timelines, responsibilities outside his actual job title and a little less than two days to sift through eight seasons worth of scripts.

“And why they easily transferred me. We're really behind now. Post production for the last few episodes should be completed this week, aired by next week.

"Then we have a hiatus at least," Levi said, repeating it with that same cold professional tone Erwin had used with him on their first day. Except he knew that was a scam too. They would be using that two week hiatus to start filing.

That reminder at least pulled Levi back into reality. He couldn’t flit mindlessly from side to side and clock it up as ‘learning the ropes’ forever. Eventually, they were going to ask him to actually know the ropes. “Erwin said something about me working with production proper and post production,” Levi mindlessly rewinded some of the scenes again. “But they can’t expect me to write the script right?”

Petra shook her head. “No, I don’t think you will,” she said. “I talked to a few of the crew. They said they were hiring a writer. A whole writing crew actually--- And you know, among them, there are rumors about a big name screenwriter.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “Joining the set of a daytime soap opera.”

She put her hands up in defense. “It’s just a rumor.”

“A stupid rumor. What kind of screenwriter in their right mind would want to work here?”

Petra paused for a second, deep in thought. “Fine, it might just be a rumor. Still, ask yourself, why would there be rumors circulating in the first place?"

Levi sighed. “Which screenwriter then?” he asked, mostly in an attempt to humor her. And himself. The fact that a big name screenwriter would work in soap operas, might actually make ‘soap operas’ work.

“Hange Zoe,” Petra said, a wry knowing look on her face. As if it was a name Levi was supposed to know.

“Hange Zoe?” And if he followed the same ups and downs of Petra’s tone, he could pretend it was familiar to his lips. “Hange Zoe,” he said again.

Petra nodded. “The writer of the Titan series? The final movie of `Advancing Titans’ is coming out in the fall.”

Advancing Titans. The name had seemingly come out of nowhere, especially when Levi had already run through a few possible names in his head. Hange Zoe hadn’t been one of them. Although she was a big name in the screenwriting industry for sure, the idea of Hange Zoe working with soap operas seemed almost preposterous.

“Hange Zoe…” Levi said it one more time, in surprise or in some attempt to practice saying it. “You’re seriously talking about that writer?” Levi looked to Petra for confirmation. Hange had only ever written one movie series from a completely different genre, which begged a question.“She has some experience in soap operas?”

Petra unlocked her phone, opened the browser and started typing and scrolling. “No… Just the movies…” she muttered a second later.

“Then why do you think she would suddenly want to work in a cheap ass day time soap opera?”

Petra looked back at him, a dumbfounded look in her face. “But the timing just fits too well. The final movie is about to be released. Apparently, she didn’t renew her contract with her studio. There are even rumors of her leaving the movie industry… And there were speculations and everything.”

“Retirement?” Levi suggested.

“Why retire in your thirties?” Petra said.

“Well, when you’re earning millions per script…” Levi trailed off. Thinking up an argument was too much of a tall order. He continued flipped through channels in silence and he had managed to pick out the movie ‘Advancing Titans’ by just a few seconds worth of a scene.

Speak of the devil.

But it wasn’t strange at all to come across the movies while flipping through channels. After all, Advancing Titans had become a household name over the past few years.

A person in a green cloak was flying, killing some man eating a zombie. It was a familiar scene, Even Levi, who almost prided himself in never having watched the movies, was familiar enough with the iconic movements, the colors and the insignia on the back.

The wings of freedom. How the hell that was connected to the story, Levi never watched enough to find out. Nor was he interested. Science fiction and fantasy were just never his cup of tea.

If Levi had to guess, soap operas and crime dramas shouldn’t have been big wig screenwriter Hange Zoe’s cup of tea either, especially after dedicating years of her life into a production as complex as a science fiction, dark fantasy cinematic universe..

“Do you really think Hange Zoe can actually work with low budget soap operas?” Levi asked.

Petra shrugged and Levi wondered why he had even asked her in the first place. Of course, she wouldn’t know. Still, she spoke up. “Even if the rumors were wrong and it wasn’t Hange Zoe. The important thing is they get someone to pump out scripts right? And your job anyway is to make sure everything gets filmed.”

“I guess.” Levi kept his eyes trained on the screen. The scene shifted from a forest, to the cobblestoned streets in town. A parade of miserable soldiers entered the town within the walls. The camera focused on a father, who navigated through crowds of people, zooming in one of the shorter soldiers.

Captain, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter… She wrote me a letter… She’s too young to get married.

Something about the expression of the soldier pulled Levi in. For a moment, he was frozen on his seat, completely hypnotized.

Petra’s voice tore into his trance. “That’s one of the scenes I can never forget.”

In some desperate bout of retaliation, Levi switched the channel of the TV. “Let’s watch something else.”

“Why? You okay?” Petra asked.

“I’m fine. I’d rather watch something more productive.” Levi flipped more rapidly through channels. He was tempted to just turn off the TV and call it a night.

“There’s a lot to learn from watching that,” Petra started.

"Like what?" Levi asked, his grip on the remote was still firm.

Petra opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed. “It's hard to explain... but remember that scene just a while ago. The father approached the captain about his daughter… She died while fighting the titans and they had to empty the cart so they lost all the bodies..."

Levi kept his eyes glued to the screen, suddenly hyper aware that there might have been a judgemental or impatient look on his face. “Go on,” Levi said, as if that could do anything to placate the discomfort already apparent in her voice.

“I guess the point I wanted to make is…” Petra still seemed far from calm. “Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she writes really quality works apparently is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the blocking, to the screenwriting and just the overall production… Which makes the storyline and the movie so gripping. When I watch it, it feels like the movie is peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“A lot of the novelty of Hange Zoe’s writing… The parts that make it special are those in betweens. The parts she left unwritten... if you know what I mean?"

“That’s cool,” Levi responded, only barely. He switched to their local channel, to the late night reruns of the soap opera. .

“They’re good movies. I don’t think they were overrated," Petra said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"I never said they weren’t good movies."

"You don't seem to want to hear about it at all."

"I'm just not interested. Besides, I'm too busy with work." That was the right moment to feign business. Levi held his phone in front of him, opened up the browser and wrote out a few familiar keywords. The movies of the titan series were all ranging from four to five star ratings. Whether it had been commended for cinematography or writing, he had been too lazy to check the more detailed reviews.

The reviews were most likely raving, sloppily made and potentially biased and Levi didn’t want to hear another synonym for ‘peers into your soul.’

His eyes were drooping, he was exhausted. Petra seemed to be ready to leave as well. But he had some space, he needed some break. And what better way to spend it than to do a little stalking? "Petra, could you send a file of the first movie? I think I might wanna watch it."

"You can stream the older ones on demand," Petra said.

Levi only had to open the menu on his TV to see the option for streaming. Right. Watching movies was starting to feel like a chore though and he was in no mood watching that night.

He didn’t say much else after that and the night ended with greetings exchanged. Petra only lived a few floors below him and it didn’t feel any different from being alone.

Before he knew it, he was half asleep already. He gave up, turned off the TV and allowed himself to doze off. When he came to his senses again, the sun was streaming through the window, and with work starting in an hour or so, he had little to no time to even start the movie.

The set was small. The budget was miniscule. The turnover rate was high.

And for projects that wanted to disguise themselves as official and corporate, it was utter chaos. One week into his job, Levi had to admit, he was reaching too widely, and he was spread out too thin.

There was a semblance of structure within his team. Petra and Eld worked with cinematography, filming and camera management and all he had to do was make sure the blocking looked good, limit the amount of retakes needed. Gunther and Oluo worked in post production and video editing.

But structure was an illusion.

The actors hadn’t arrived yet. Other new roles hadn't been finalized. The script was still unfinished. Yet, they were under the mercy of the vision of higher ups

"We're heavily delayed,’ or so that was what Erwin had explained. ‘Feedback of the higher ups.”

There were deadlines, unreasonable deadlines for the employees, yet a reasonable wait for the average audience. They had less than a month to finish filming and post production for the first few episodes of the new season, less than a week to produce everything for the old season.

When he was in a pseudo-management role, as a cinematographer, it was automatic. When filming, he should be going down to the set. But they weren't filming yet. In fact, there were people in the set not doing anything.

In the chaos, everything didn't seem to add up. So Levi forced one memorandum, one attempt at structure. He would finish the final editing by that night and start the next day with a blank slate. Even if he needed to, he would stay until midnight to make it work.

That new writing team should be coming soon. Levi repeated to himself. Erwin had said so himself, Petra had also mentioned it excitedly over lunch.

All Levi had to do was get the episodes ready for review by the higher ups, then ready for airing then he could start that new season with a healthier approach, maybe find some way to add more structure to his already hectic job.

“Petra, don’t wait for me. I’m working overtime today.”

Petra jumped on her seat.

Levi only realized then, he had come up from right behind her. And Petra had been busy reading through something in her laptop, a quick glance confirmed, it was the unfinished script.

Levi continued. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Petra looked back at him, a worried look in her face. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Deadlines,” Levi answered.

“You need any help? You know Oluo and Gunther, they can stay too. Or even me.”

“I can finish it myself,” Levi said. He was completely aware either way that it was his job to review everything before anyone else reviewed and before it went on air.

There was an indignant look on Petra's face. But Petra never really imposed. She nagged, doted, argued but she never imposed.

And he managed to pacify her by requesting an espresso and a cup of tea from the tea shop right in front of the studio. Beverages were frowned upon in the video editing room. Levi though was particularly meticulous, he was tired and stressed and he allowed himself some leeway.

Just today. And when they start filming the new season, during the hiatus, Levi would reopen his work with a more organized approach, more suited for his personality. He constantly reassured himself of that as he continued to edit the videos, crosschecking with storyboards and scripts.

Most of the work had been done. Most of the work had been easy to scan through. Still it was hours of sifting through retakes, reviewing and setting them up for reviews and cuts. In the silence, completely alone, He gladly gave the task the required focus, more than enough not to have noticed the sound of the door click behind him.

“This is the coffee you asked for right?” The voice wasn’t Petra’s but still it didn’t seem at all hostile. In fact, the voice seemed friendly.

Friendly enough for Levi to feel obliged to respond.”Thanks.” A new hire maybe? In the one week he had been working there, three people had already quit.

It wasn’t worth a second thought. The important thing was he got his coffee and tea. So he didn’t bother looking up, only looking with his peripherals to see the paper white of the cup just a few inches away. He reached one hand towards the cup and surprisingly, his hand didn’t grasp for paper. It went for something a little softer, something a little cooler but still warm to the touch.

And it moved. A bug? A pest? That had been Levi’s first speculation, being the paranoid clean freak he was. Before his guesses could get anymore creative he looked at the cup and saw the cup was stable on his desk. He had a grip, not on the cup itself but on the other hand which held the cup. The movements were from a hand underneath his..

A wild hand. It slipped out of his grip, and before Levi could pull away, it gripped him in return, squeezing harder on his pointer finger and his middle finger.

For just a second. A painfully awkward second.

A second of realization was all Levi needed to pull away. “May I help you?” he asked. It took a lot more willpower not to curse at that strange invasion of privacy. A second later, reason took over and Levi realized that he was the one who had gripped her first.

He had planned to grip the coffee cup, he justified himself.

“They said… You needed some coffee.” The voice was nonchalant. Yet somehow, nonchalance had managed to make his blood boil. “So I came here to drop it and say hi,” she added, as if that was the most natural response.

‘Say hi’ didn’t usually involve two hands gripping one another, then interlocking. Her hands were still gripping the tip of his fingers and for a second they were frozen.. “Are you always this touchy then?” Levi pressed. Especially with a total stranger. Levi looked up, turned his head towards the voice and confirmed it, she was definitely a familiar face but they were barely even acquaintances.

Brown hair tied up in a ponytail, glasses propped comfortably on her nose and just underneath them, warm brown eyes that had no problem just staring, studying… And in their own way, leaving Levi very very jarred by the mundane gesture called ‘eye contact.’

“I was hoping to talk for a bit,” she said. “If you’re not too busy, we can---”

“I’m busy right now,” Levi said. He pulled the coffee closer to him, suddenly careful when awareness dawned on him abruptly. Suddenly, he was completely aware that the coffee cup was only a few inches away from the computer. “Can this wait?”

Those brown eyes were suddenly wider, a hint of surprise. Then they narrowed at him and Levi felt some pity blanket his already sluggish and aimless movements. Before he knew it, he was very very unproductive.

He had to do something. “My name is Levi by the way.” He was deliberately gentler that time and usually lowering his voice and slowing down did some magic to make him seem kinder than he usually seemed to new people. Or so, that had been what Petra had advised multiple times before.

Levi looked up, forced a subtle smile, a combination between a tightlipped line and crinkles at the edge of his mouth. The most he could manage for a courteous introduction.

Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. He noticed her eyes first, the way they widened. Her jaw dropped. She closed it again, a subtle twitch in her lip.

Did I say something wrong? Levi thought to himself. He looked back at the computer screen. “Levi… Levi Ackerman,” he added. Would that help ease the tension of the room?

Even when Levi started to make a game for himself, playing video edits again and again, he realized he was more focused on pretending to concentrate than in actually polishing the transitions between scenes.

Hange eventually spoke up. “Hello Levi. Nice to meet you.” Her voice was softer in that last sentence.

“Nice to meet you too.” That had been surprisingly difficult to say. He sensed the discomfort in her voice, and maybe he had unknowingly mirrored it.

“My name is Hange Zoe. I’m going to be working as a screenwriter here…”

Oh. Oh. So that’s Hange Zoe. For someone who spearheaded blockbuster hits, who had people talking like crazy over rumors, it turned out she was a very underwhelming presence.

“I’m the cinematographer here,” Levi said. Technically, that was his job title but at that point, he was doing everything. “So I guess we’re going to be working together a lot.”

“We will,” Hange responded. Her presence was underwhelming. So underwhelming that Levi felt no need to even be excited that they had a prodigy screenwriter in their midst. Her voice was soft when she spoke to him. Her eyes were some mix of disappointment, nervousness, uncertainty.

Levi suspected it was her demeanor, her approach towards him that had caused such tension to settle in such a tiny room. “Thank you for coffee,” Levi said. Any nice gesture seemed like a worthwhile attempt to ease it.

A wide smile played at Hange’s lips, still far from what Levi would have considered confident though. “Happy to help.”

That’s the award winning screenwriter? “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“I’m going to be working on a few scripts tonight, have Erwin look at them in a day or so,” she said. Her voice had shifted to something more professional, and her meekness was starting to feel more like a misinterpretation on Levi's end..

“Looking forward to them,” Levi said.

The door slammed behind him, a little louder than the click that followed. The room was dim, it was almost distracting. When Levi turned towards the lights, he considered turning it on, to save himself the discomfort of sore eyes.

He turned his chair, put enough wait into one leg only to notice the sluggishness, the numbness underneath. His legs were jelly. Her hands were trembling and his breaths weren’t coming out in predictable bouts. He turned back to the computer and prepared to review what he had already edited.

The video was playing and Levi was convincing himself that he was productive.

Halfway through the episode, or even a quarter through the episode (Levi wasn’t counting), his mind had wandered. When his surroundings just became a little too overwhelming, Levi let loose just a little bit. He let the heaviness in his chest and the stiffness of his limbs speak for him then.

That voice of a while ago, Hange Zoe’s voice. That voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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jjmaybanksbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #obx netflix #obx #obx fanfic #where it leads series #where it leads

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roberttchase · 3 years ago

Note

Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

#prompt #my fic #matt casey #casey siblings #chicago fire #lmm-snez-things #this got slightly carried away oops #bb!matt

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retro-memo · 3 years ago

Note

All of your prompts seem so cool 🥺 the "oops ? What do you mean oops ?" seems super fun if you feel up to writing it 😁

Well, I'm finally answering this... almost a year later. I'm so sorry for that, I didn't ignore any of the asks in my inbox, I just forgot about 'em. Sorta. Anyways, the good news is that I plan to finally start emptying my inbox. Honestly, these prompts have been sitting there for way too long.

While this doesn't exactly start with the sentence that was given, it does use it. Kinda. Let's just get started.

Also, special thanks to @winter-turtle for giving me inspiration for this fic!!💜 💜

“Kid, what are you doing here?” It wasn't the first time Tony had caught Peter sneaking into the Compound. In fact, on more than several occasions he’d woken up in the mornings to find the kid raiding his kitchen and being a fire hazard to society by trying to bake a dish that vaguely resembled something out of a mad scientist horror film.

Tony refused to call anything Peter cooked food. The kid was worse than his aunt when he was near a stove.

Said kid who had his back turned to Tony, jumped, spinning around to stare at Tony with eyes blown so wide they almost seemed to swallow his entire face. He looked like the exact definition of a child being caught red-handed with their grubby fingers halfway into the cookie jar.

Not only that but for the first time since the kid got here, Tony noticed that he was, in fact, not wearing one of his infamous nerdy science pun t-shirts that were part of his usual civilian attire but instead, was in his Spider-Man suit.

That wasn’t even the weirdest part.

Tony felt his eyebrows shoot up well past his hairline as he took in the kid. More specifically, what was sitting snugly in Peter's arms as if it had every right to be and not sending him through another stage of existential crisis. “What the fuck is that?”

His death was going to be caused by his disaster-on-two-legs kid. Tony knew it. He was going to keel over from the stress one of these days. It was the only way to go out.

“A turtle?” If it was any other time, Tony would’ve probably asked the kid if that was a question or statement but instead, couldn’t help the borderline hysterical laugh that escaped him.

Gods, aliens, genocidal maniacs, hydra soldiers - he thought it would always be one of the former or some fucked up ‘sacrifice himself for the greater good of the universe’ bullshit that was going to get him killed him but nope.

“Uh, yeah, I can see that, kiddo.” Tony waved his arm out, probably trying to gesture to the sheer ridiculousness of the situation “I mean, why the fuck did you bring it here?”

“Oops?” The kid’s shoulder’s bunched up to his ears in what Tony had to guess was some sort of half-shrug.

“Oops?” Tony tried not to sound like less of a madman but that was a feat in itself, especially whenever Peter was involved. The kid was trouble walking around with ’kick me’ written on the back of his shirt with disaster not too far behind him. Sure, Tony kinda knew that things weren’t ever going to be the same again after the whole Vulture and plane crashing incident. He expected a few supervillains here and there, maybe a stab wound but still.

He never planned for a whole goddamn turtle. “What do you mean oops? This isn’t an ‘oops’, Parker! Start talking!”

The kid’s lips thinned as he pressed them together, obviously not planning on spilling the beans on why he brought a turtle into the Compound. Okay, that was fine, it was fine. Two could play it that game and if Peter wasn’t going to come clean, Tony was just going to have to use the ace up his sleeve. “Alright, fine, if you won’t talk to me, I’m just going to call May.”

Tony already had his phone out in the open when it happened. Maybe later, a part of him would’ve wondered why he didn’t expect the kid to put up some sort of rebellion. Still, it’s not everyday when one’s phone suddenly disappeared from their hand.

“Did you just web my phone from me?!” Tony looked up from his now empty hand to where the kid was standing, whose eyes had somehow blown even wider than they were before while said stolen device sat perfectly in his free hand while the other was still holding up the turtle in what was clearly a feat against all known human possibilities.

Right. Sticky powers. Gotta love ‘em.

“No, uh, yes, I mean-” On any other day, Tony would’ve found the kid’s ability to stumble over his own words adorable, endearing even. “I can explain!”

Today, however, wasn’t one of those days.

It wasn’t that he minded the kid’s company, in fact, on a good day he enjoyed having the bubbling ball of energy to bounce science off of in the lab or when they binged any sci-fi movie they could get their hands on until they both passed out on the couch.

Except, after being forced to sit through a couple dozen meetings courtesy of one scary-and-should-definitely-not-be-teaming-up-with-May-Parker and soon-to-be-wife, Pepper Potts, Tony was not in the mood to deal with the kid’s babbling.

“Then please, explain.”

“I mean, it wasn’t my fault!” Ah yes, the sinner’s plea. “Well, it is. Sorta but I couldn’t just leave him there!” There we go.

“You know what?” Tony raised his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t actually want to know. Just please, tell me why you bring it here to all places?”

“Donatello isn’t an it.”

Tony did a double-take at that. “You’ve named it?”

“Uh...” Peter shrunk back. “Maybe?”

The kid clearly didn’t understand that he wasn’t supposed to name every stray that wandered in his path, else he’d get attached. Nevermind the fact Tony had broken that rule himself more times than he could count-

Tony groaned, covering his eyes with his hands, already feeling a headache starting to form from the back of his skull. “Okay, okay fine. Why did you bring Donatello here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Peter fidgeted on his feet, arms adjusting around the turtle in his arms as it started to squirm a little, for the first time really moving since Tony saw it. “There was just too much of a mess and no one else wanted to take him, I don’t think May would let me keep him. Please, Mr. Stark.”

Don’t look at the eyes, don’t look at the- ah shit.

Peter stared at Tony with those deadly big, misty brown doe-eyes of his that could make Dreamworks re-cast the cat in that green Shirt movie his kid made him watch once.

“Can Donatello stay here?”

Despite his first instinct being ‘no’, any resolve Tony had or authority of the situation crumbled, and he found himself faltering. He opened his mouth, holding his breath for a second before groaning, accepting defeat. No one was immune to Peter’s puppy eyes, not even the toughest of men and women.

It was a simple fact.

“Alright, fine!” Tony threw his hands up and before he could even prepare himself, Peter barreled forward into him.

Tony grunted, the air knocked out of him good from the impact. It sent him stumbling back with every bit of the teenage Spiderling dead-weight clinging to his waist. “Kid, wha-”

Whatever Tony wanted to spit out, instantly died on his tongue because Peter. was. hugging. him. Not the sleepy ones that on a rare occasion Tony was blessed to receive but a full-blown hug.

Even after all these months after that moment in the car with the whole ‘we’re not there yet’, the Vulture and the lab days, Peter never tried to hug Tony. Sure, there were so many days where he’d see the kid raise his arms a little to him when saying goodbye before Happy carted him off back to his aunt but he’d always lower them immediately and bolt out of the lab before Tony had the chance to say it was okay, that yes, they were there.

Tony supposed that was his own fault, it was one of the many things he was still kicking himself over.

Yet, here the kid was, finally, finally, giving Tony a proper hug.

Slowly, Tony lowered his arms around the kid while minding the turtle between them. The hug wasn’t normal, soft or anything that he imagined for their first hug. It felt awkward as hell, a little stiff and he could feel the kid tense, probably realizing what he did.

Tony wrapped his arms around the kid’s shoulders before Peter could even think about moving out of it. This was his first official hug with his kid. He wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers again. It seemed to work because Peter relaxed back into the hug. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” He dropped his chin onto the kid’s curly head, finally feeling the tight coil in his chest slowly unwind. “But don’t think that I’m not telling May and Pepper about this. There's no way I'm going to be responsible for that thing. You do what you have to but don’t expect me to pick up after it if you forget to.”

If the kid’s giggle afterwards sent something warm curling around his heart? Well, no one had to know.

... Who wants part two of the turtle?

#irondad and spiderson #prompt ask #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spider son #iron dad #short prompt #turtle fic #I've finally written this bastard #fluff and crack #mostly crack

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 4 years ago

Text

Neighbor little helper

Summary: single dad Chris gets a new neighbor he finds extremely beautiful. When his 5 year old figures out his daddy loves the neighbor, he tries to set you both up.

Warning: Fluff

Title: neighbor little helper

Word count: 2.4k

Pairing: single dad! Chris, Chris Evans x reader

Masterlist | request closed momentarily

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!

The moving van outside of Chris's home office caught his attention. No one has lived in the house next to him for a year and a half now and it surprised him that someone was moving in. Chris got up and walked to the window, he peered out and saw you getting out of the car.

God you were beautiful. Your smile made his stomach fill with butterflies. You looked amazing in your red graphic tee and denim Shorts. You were definitely prepared for the summer heat.

You looked so happy as the movers pulled out your boxes. Chris was Going to keep watching, but he felt like that would be weird, so he stopped. He walked out of his office and into the living room where Nolan was.

"Daddy, someone is moving in next to us." He said, getting up off of the couch and tottered over to Chris.

"I know, should we go say hi Nolan?" Nolan nodded, his Blue eyes just like his dad's, lighting up at the idea. Chris put out his hand, "come on little guy." Nolan took his hand and they walked out of the house.

You were organizing your boxes on the porch when you heard footsteps. You looked up from your boxes, seeing Chris and Nolan walking towards you. You almost forgot how to breathe when you noticed Chris, but you stayed calm. "Hi." You stood up.

Chris stood in front of you, smiling. "Hi,um I'm Chris and this is my son Nolan." Nolan happily waved to you. "We live next door." He said. You smiled. "Hi, I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you both." You smiled down at Nolan.

Out of nowhere your Newfoundland dog, Max, came. Nolan gasped, “Daddy, a friend for Dodger.” Max stopped running once he noticed nolan. He walked his fluffy self up to the little boy and started licking his face. Nolan laughed trying to push him away. You chuckled, grabbing Max's collar, “okay, let him breathe buddy.”

Chris chuckled. Looking at you. You seriously had not one flaw about you.

“Sorry, he’s just friendly.” Chris shook his head, “it’s fine, i think he likes it, don’t you nolan?” Nolan looked up at his dad. “Yes. Daddy, can i play with him, can I please?” he begged. Chris pointed to you, “You gotta ask her.”

Nolan looked at you. “Can I play with him please?” you nodded, “sure, oh but if he attacks you just call me okay?” Nolan nodded. You let go of max’s collar. Nolan started walking with max further into the yard where his ball was. “Maybe later you can meet dodger, our doggy.”

You chuckled, turning back to Chris. he was scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry I don’t have a pie. I heard it was tradition to do that when people move in next to you.” he chuckled nervously. You swatted your hand, “it’s fine.” Chris and you stood in silence. You both were feeling something towards each other and you both definitely could tell.

“Would you like me to help you bring your boxes in?” Chris broke the silence by asking that question.

“Oh, yes. I’ll love your help.” you picked up the book near your feet and chris picked up the other one. You walked into the empty house, sitting the boxes on the ground near the door. "So how long have you been living in this neighborhood?" you turned to Chris.

He sucked in his breath, "um for about 4 years. Ever since Nolan Mom left him when he was two weeks old, I have been living next door." Chris got an upset look on his face as he finished. You felt a little guilty for asking that question after he talked about Nolan Mom being a complete asshole. How could she let that precious boy go?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up anything you didn't want to talk about." Chris shook his head, "it's alright, you didn't do anything. Here let's go bring the rest of the boxes."

You beamed at him. "Yes let's do that."

Chris helped you bring in all of your boxes in less than 15 minutes. He hasn't known you for long, but he could tell you were different from other women. You lit up every time you talked about something you were passionate about. Even when he talked about Nolan you smiled. He was definitely starting to like you more and more.

-♥-

Alright all of the boxes are inside. Thank you for your help." You smiled at Chris. He smiled back, "it was nothing." You walked up to your boxes. "Well I'm going to get unpacking now." Chris nodded making his way to the door. He was about to leave, but he's mind was telling him to stay so he listened.

"Hey um, y/n would like to come over for dinner tonight?" You stopped fidgeting with the boxes. "Uh, yeah sure. I would like that." Chris nodded his head. "Okay you can come by around 7. I'll bring Max back." You thanked him once again and he left.

A few seconds later Max's was at your door with his ball in his mouth. You chuckled opening the screen door from him. "Come in big boy." He walked in and ran straight to his water bowl you sat up for him. He gulped it down and you continued to inbox a few things.

Around 6:30, you decided it would be best if you got ready. You took a warm shower. The warm water on your body was an amazing feeling, you loved to stay in all day but you had to get out unfortunately. You slipped on a pair of pants and a blouse. After you got ready, you waited and watched TV until 7 arrived.

Chris on the other hand was scrambling to get ready. He was nervous to have you over. You were a beautiful woman and he wanted to make sure everything was perfect for when you came over.

"Daddy, why are you in a hurry?" Nolan appeared beside Chris as he chopped up a few things. "Um, were having y/n over for dinner tonight." Nolan smiled. "Yay." Chris laughed as Nolan cheered.

"How about you clean your toys up so when she comes over it's not too messy." Nolan nodded and walked off to clean up, at least that's what he thought.

The doorbell rang and Chris went to answer it, but stopped when he saw Nolan playing with his toys instead of Cleaning them up.

"Nolan I said clean up your toys, bub." Nolan stood up, shame was on his face. "Sorry Daddy." Chris scooped him up before he could get anymore upset. "It's okay let's just let y/n in."

Chris walked up to the door and opened it. You stood on the other side, smiling. "Hi." Chris moved to the side letting you in. You walked in taking in the picture on the walls. It was his family and a few pictures of dodger and Nolan. It made you smile wider looking at them.

"Sorry it's a little messy here." You turned to Chris, he was putting down Nolan. "Oh no it's fine, your dad, things will be all over the place, nothing to worry about." Chris chuckled softly. "Thank you."

He put down Nolan and he walked up to you. "Do you want to play with me y/n?" You nodded, "I would love to." You turned to Chris, seeing if that was okay. He nodded. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Youfollowed Nolan to his playroom. "What are we going to play with?" Nolan looked at you. "We can play with my trucks." You nodded, alright let's do it." He handed you a red truck and he kept the blue one. You both played for a while and also laughed. You both didn't even notice Chris in the doorway watching you play.

He loved how his son is getting attached to you. He hasn't had that connection with any other women except his sisters and mom, it's good to see him getting along with someone other than those 3.

"Hey." You and Nolan turned around. "Dinners ready." You got up and so did Nolan. You all walked to the dinning room where Chris had already set up dinner. Chris happily pulled out your seat for you. You thanked him for his kind gesture and sat down. Chris walked to his chair and took a seat. Nolan was already deep in his food, you did everything you could to not laugh at him as you eat yours.

"So y/n what do you do for a living?" You looked at Chris, clearing your throat. "Well I'm a writer and sometimes a substitute teacher for middle school."

A little oh fell from Nolan's lips. "I going to middle school." You nodded, eyebrows raised. "Are you now?" He nodded happily, "yeah, but not yet. I'm still in kindergarten." He turned to Chris. "Right daddy?" Chris laughed. "Yes bub, your right."

You all continued to eat and make small conversation. You noticed every now and then, Chris would look at you smiling when you talked to Nolan. You could feel your stomach churning.

When you all finished, Chris took your plate to the sink and you got up. "Miss. Y/n." You turned to Nolan, "yes?"

"Can you stay and read a book with me? I'm just learning how to read." He said proudly." You nodded. "Yes, I'll love to." Chris watched as you left and followed him to the living room. He pulled out his favorite book and began to read it to you. He needed help with a few words, but other than that he aced it.

He finished, and turned to you. "Did I do good?" You nodded, "yes, you did amazing." Chris walked around the couch, "it's time to get ready for bed, can you say goodnight to y/n." Nolan turned to you. "Bye, y/n," he opened his arms and hugged you. You wrapped your arms around his tiny frame hugging him. "Goodnight Nolan, it was nice talking to you." He giggled softly in your chest.

You said goodbye and walked home. Chris put Nolan to bed. He was happy and Nolan noticed. "Daddy, you're very happy." Chris smiled as he tucked Nolan in. "Yes, daddy is quite happy today." He kissed Nolan's forehead before he said goodnight and walked out of the room.

His phone rang and Chris answered it when he noticed who it was. "Ma."

"Hi Chris." Chris smiled and lisa could hear it in his voice. "Why are you so happy?" Chris chuckled, "well, someone just moved in next to me and um she's beautiful. I really like her and she's so good with Nolan." Lisa gasped on the other end of the phone. "Oh my, are you going to ask her on a date?"

Chris sucked in his breath, "um I don't know. I don't know if she likes me back, but we'll see."

Nolan was listening to Chris from the top of the stairs. He knew his daddy liked you, and he was smart enough to know you liked him back. Now all Nolan wanted to do was set you and his Daddy up.

-♥-

The next day Nolan woke up to the smell of breakfast. He got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. "Good morning daddy." Chris turned to him. "Hi, good morning buddy." Chris placed a plate of waffles in front of Nolan and he began to eat. "So today Daddy's going to do some work." Nolan nodded. "And I'll just play."

After getting Nolan ready for the day Chris went to work and so did Nolan. He knew he might get in trouble, but he really wanted you and Chris together. While Chris was taking a call Nolan took Dodger who was laying in bed and walked out the back door with him. He could see you in the backyard working on the garden. "Y/n!"

You looked through the fence. "Oh hi Nolan, where's your daddy?" He looked at you. "He's inside. I got Dodger, do you and Max want to meet him?" You nodded, "sure." You walked to the gate and let him in your yard. As soon as Max noticed Dodger he ran up to him, sniffing his butt. "Can I help you with your garden?" You nodded, handing him gloves. He helped you plant a few things, you loved having his help.

Chris was just finishing up a call and was going to check on Nolan. "Nolan buddy." He got no answer. Chris frowned and walked further into the house. "Nolan?" He noticed the backdoor open. He walked out of the house. "Nolan?"

Nolan beside you heard Chris calling him. "Over here daddy." Chris sighed jogging over to your house. "Nolan, what are you doing over here?" You turned around looking at him, he was frowning with his hands on his hips. "Daddy I'm sorry, I just wanted to come over to tell y/n you like her."

Chris felt his face warm up. "Nolan, I… " Chris' eyes flicked to you. You were looking at him with wide eyes. "Um, Nolan, can you give me and y/n sometime talk." He nodded and ran after the dogs who were rolling around in the grass.

"So," you walked up to him. "You uh, like me?" Chris' eyes fell to the ground."Yes, I like you. I know you just moved in but seeing you with Nolan it just makes me so happy. You don't have to like me back but yes I like you."

You exhaled, "Chris I like you too actually. I mean these past two days have been nice with you and Nolan and I wouldn't mind spending more time with you both." Chris beamed when he heard that you liked him back. "So how about a date on Wednesday?"

You smiled, "sure, that sounds nice." Chris bite his lip looking at the ground. "I'm sure Nolan wanted us together."

You turned to look at Nolan, Dodger and Max's, laughing at them all rolling around in the grass. "Yeah, he definitely did that on purpose." Chris chuckled, walking up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I'm not even mad either." You turned to look at him smiling.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

@badbo1-evans @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @bval-1 @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @raveviolet @rynabarnesrogers-reading @enn-j @london-dreamer71 @harrysthiccthighss @captainamerica-is-bae @la-cey @weirdowithnobeardo @lovepeacefood @baby-i-am-fireproof @denisemarieangelina @evans713 @smyfmj @thereisa8ella @jillanaholland @rororo06 @briannab1234 @keiva1000 @ughitsnic @kianifan @adriannajackson @boojack73 @marvelnaturalock @notyourtypicalrose @dummiesshort @onetwo3000

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader #chris evans smut #single dad! Chris #dad! Chris Evans

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sadachmesarthim · 4 years ago

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C-cowboy starker? What if cowboy starker, I mean? I think... cattle driver Tony maybe, and ranch hand Peter,,, always wanted to write about this but I’m shy 🙈

mid-writing edit: i’ve spent half an hour on this and my computer is literally lagging with how fast i’m typing. i really hope this makes sense because holy shit, i love cowboy starker. anon, i need you in my inbox every single fucking time you have an idea about starker. idk if it’s in passing, idk if it’s super fleeting and doesn’t make sense. anon, you are my muse

ohhhhh my god anon i ,, love this idea so much i’ve actually thought about this a bit ngl you don’t even know how much i like western aus

okay so hear me out:

i’m thinking brokeback type shit, right?? but just a tad different like be honest who doesn’t like the whole bbm trope yfm and twink jake gyllenhaal is my baby okay okay okay sorry babe i’m still crossfaded as fuck and i could talk about that movie for days anyway back on topic

- no okay but think of it - tony, he’s recently divorced and morgan, his baby girl, his one and only daughter, she’s 19 now and seeing this absolute gentleman of a roughneck. his house is empty, he isn’t paying child support anymore, he doesn’t have this bitchy redhead on his ass 24/7 about getting a job in the city

- because tony hates the city, hates that his father dragged them away from the mountains and prairies he remembers from his childhood. hates what the city gave him - black eyes and mean names and disappointed parents

- so tony high tailed it the fuck out of dodge the second he turned 18. abandoned school, abandoned his family, took his beat up ford out to montana and disappeared. married this nice girl, virginia pepper, worked construction to support her while she went to school. had a pretty baby girl a year or two later. moved both of his girls out to a ranch he bought with their tiny savings, got a couple’a cows and a horse and made friends with a neighbor with a bull

- but eventually, pep had bigger dreams. they were both young when they got married, didn’t look past the immediate sexual compatibility to see that their futures were well and truly not going to go well together

- so she left the ranch, took morgan with, and made her way to the city. became some big lawyer or doctor or businesswoman or something, tony didn’t know. didn’t really care because the child support invoices still came every single month like clockwork.

- so instead of focusing on his distant daughter and his ex wife that wouldn’t listen to him and his family that just... didn’t understand, he threw himself into the wildlife around him

- became closer with those neighbors that had a bull. eventually came to an agreement and let him free with his girls

- built a very solid herd of highlanders in a handful of years, slowly attracting the attention of more and more owners wanting to trade, to buy, to sell

- and maybe one year, he realizes, he’s in a bit too far over his head with this. he has 100 of these four legged fuckers, he has 50 acres to take care of by himself, he has horses to feed and shoe and groom. he has fields to plant and water and harvest if he wants to feed any of the animals mentioned above

- so he reaches out to his neighbors, puts feelers out and sees if anyone knows a farmhand who’d want to help him out, maybe live on the property full time for a bit. and when he gets a call back his heart breaks a bit, because oh my god he wasn’t prepared for this

- a kid, can’t have been more than morgan’s age, has responded to him, and he’s good with his hands mr. stark, and he knows his way around animals mr. stark, been takin’ care of ‘em for his whole life now mr. stark

- and this kid is ,, he sounds so innocent and sweet there’s no way tony’s gonna say yes before he actually meets him

- so tony gives the kid his address, tells him to come out and give things a once over before he makes his mind up

- so peter does. he comes out, introduces himself, looks around the property with tony. and tonys heart hurts, because this kid, this kid that’s standing right in front of him, is almost skin and bones and looks like he’s about to crumble into dust and blow away in his hands

- he brings peter into the house, brings him coffee, offers him food. even after peter politely declines he brings over some bread to share, maybe a slice of pie?? maybe tony can cook and bake. he has a sweet tooth after all, and he’s been on his own for the better part of two decades.

- and he really gets to know peter. they sit, they talk, until the sun dips down and the open mountain chill takes over them

- and peter tells him that he’s been on his own for a couple of years, that his parents died when he was young and that his aunt and uncle took him in on their ranch. that he grew up around animals, working, helping out

- but when they died the property was repossessed by the bank and peter’d all but ran with ben’s keys and the clothes on his back. he’s been on the road ever since, going from missouri to texas to wyoming to montana, all in search of work, never staying in one place longer than a few months.

- he doesn’t tell tony that he’s secretly so, so tired of life on the road. doesn’t say how elated he was when he heard someone was looking for a fairly long-term live in farm hand. because that’s something he knew, something he was good at.

- he also doesn’t tell tony that his heart skipped several beats in a row the second peter laid eyes on him, and that he really wants to work for the gorgeous man in front of him

- it’s finally dark, his coffee cup is long empty and abandoned and peter’s just spilled nearly every single deep dark secret he’s ever had. tony’s closing the windows, and peter makes for the door. he’s taken up enough of this beautiful kind man’s time, he should leave before he stays even further past his welcome

- but tony’s stopping him, blocking him from the door, lightly grabbing his wrist and turning peter to face him fully

- and he’s asking begging pleading telling peter he should stay, that the spare room upstairs is warm and not going to be used anytime soon. that he still needs a farmhand and, as he sees it, peter’s already here

- secretly, tony can’t stand to see him leave

- he couldn’t handle letting his man this... kid, really, leave. not when tony could provide for him. not when he could feed him until his edges soften and his cheeks round out and his tummy gets squishy. not when he could work him into a sweat outside, watch that paperwhite skin turn a rich tan under the summer sun

- not even when he realizes the sudden care for the orphan in front of him is slowly becoming less familial, less platonic, and more... instinctual. base. greedy.

- because who better to make sure this kid is looked after than tony? tony, who has work-worn hands and time-softened eyes and cooking skills any bachelor would die for

- it’s honestly not even that shocking to him when peter says yes

- not when he takes his hand off the doorknob and immediately turns, immediately breathes out a “yes, yes of course mr. stark, thank you so much mr. stark, i’ll do whatever you need me to, you’re incredible mr. stark”

- and it all immediately goes to tony’s dick head because fuck, that was not the intended reaction but it was absolutely welcome, what the fuck

- so tony takes him upstairs, gets peter settled in the guest bedroom right across from his own

- and when he goes to bed that night he absolutely does not touch himself while thinking about the barely 20something thats maybe 10 feet away. doesn’t think about what peter said earlier, with tony’s hand wrapped around his wrist

- absolutely doesn’t cum with peter’s name on his lips, biting down on his knuckles so peter doesn’t hear

- and peter absolutely doesn’t cum with three fingers in his ass, tears streaming down his face, listening to the creaking mattress springs and heavy breathing from across the hall. of course he doesn’t

- and of course they don’t get along well. of course not. of course they don’t work together like they’re telepathically connected, not even needing to speak to know what the other is thinking. it’s like peter can read his mind, knowing exactly what needs done when

- but it’s not just tony. peter can tell before anyone else when the farrier needs to be called. when one of the girls is pregnant, even before she starts showing. knows when one of the cattle dogs has a hurt paw without even seeing him. can tell when it’s going to rain, so he knows whether or not it’ll be a good day to cut the alfalfa fields

- it’s a little freaky to be honest but tony doesn’t hate it. it’s really useful with everything on the farm, and it’s... it’s nice. having someone that can so effortlessly understand him.

- it’s also like peters... totally unaware of it. like he doesn’t even know he knows things he shouldnt know. which blows tony’s mind even more.

- it kinda turns him on, and he finds himself with his hand around his cock wondering if peter knows he’s getting off thinking about him. like, more than once. maybe even more than once a week. definitely more than once a week.

- and maybe peters kind of catching on, a little. that maybe his feelings toward his employer/landlord/new friend are shared

- it also doesn’t help that he gets uncontrollably aroused every time tony goes to bed. like. every... single... time...

- peter always knew he was.. attentive. but he didn’t know it would manifest as literally feeling tony’s arousal through the fucking walls

- and it doesn’t help that peter’s filling out. he’s getting darker as the months get warmer, he’s getting significantly more meat on his bones now that he’s eating more and working more

- and it really doesn’t help that tony is getting eyefuls of the half naked ranch hand almost 24/7. it’s really not his fault that peter works better without a shirt on

- and maybe it comes to a head one day. maybe they’re picking up alfalfa bales from one of the fields and they stop to take a break and tony just ,, can’t handle sweaty, tan, barely-a-twink-anymore peter.

- and peter can feel it, with his ,, unique senses, that tony’s watching him. like, a lot. like, way more than normal even

- so he decides to play it up a bit. he takes his shirt off, he throws his gloves in the bed of the truck and balls the tee in his hands, wiping his face off with it and sighing deeply

- and he knows tony saw that because he could fucking hear tony’s breathing change and he smirks a little bit, because that’s enough confirmation for him to know for sure

- so he looks up, and he meets tony’s eyes, and they’re wild and feral and tony looks like one of the wolves that tried to take out one of their cows last winter - hungry and ready to devour what was in front of him

- and peter just looks at him, a little incredulous, and finally speaks up: ‘you gonna get over here ‘n kiss me, or what?’ - and tony fucking breaks

- he turns the truck off and slams the door when he gets out, grabbing peter by the neck and fucking dragging him against tony’s clothed body

- “do you know what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

- of course peter does, tony, you fucking moron. he knows and he’s been trying to get you to rip him to shreds, dumbass. you’re just oblivious

- but tony still can’t help but see the tiny young man that walked up on his doorstep those years ago, can’t help but want to protect him and keep him safe and warm and fed

- so of course tony wanted to go slow, and wanted to be gentle with peter

- but pete was having fucking none of that, because oh my god tony i’m not 19 anymore please just fuck me already and been wanting you for way too long and please tony just-- and he grabs tony’s hand and makes him squeeze even harder

- and it’s hot, and it’s messy, and it’s not even really sex, just them rutting and grabbing and jerking each other off up against the door of tony’s truck, belt buckles undone and jeans just barely tugged down

- and tony’s basking in it, watching peter’s eyes screw shut and his pretty plush lips open and the little ‘aah, nngh fuck, tony’s that push their way from his throat

- and he knows, the second they’re done here, they’re abandoning their work for the day and he’s taking peter back to the house and he’s going to show him what this is like for real, what it means to be touched with intention and love and emotion behind it - not just a quick handjob standing in the hay field

- and he does. he worships peter’s body when they get back to the house

- he kisses every single part of him, nips at the tiny bit of excess fat on his stomach and thighs and hips, relishing in the fact that peter is his, his to take care of, his to keep safe and healthy and happy

- and eventually, the guest room opens up again. peter’s stuff slowly moves into tony’s room. he stops getting paid, but that’s okay

- because why would you get paid to work on your own farm?

#starker #anon #asked #answered #.ask #i like this idea anon #please see me for any and all future requests you may have #because holy shit #this was enjoyable #anyway im high as FUCK please excuse if this doesn't make sense #love u nonnie #word count: 2.4k

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