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wolfstar-supremacy-innit · 4 years ago

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"Tell who?"- Part 2

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 2 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Part 1 Part 3

Enjoy! :)

“Moony! Get up, mate!” Like it was that easy. He couldn’t even get himself to pry his eyes open. It was James that woke him. “Come on, mate. We gotta show up at breakfast, so nobody gets suspicious.” Remus groaned and turned onto his back. A dreadful headache split his forehead.

“Ugh, fuck me.”

“Not right now, Moony. We gotta dash.” He could practically feel James’ stupid grin.

“Fine, fine. I’m getting up.” He blinked his eyes open, pushing onto his elbows, then slowly sat up. The throb in his temples was menacing. He got up gingerly. No nausea. Good. Picking out clean clothes from his neatly organised wardrobe, he headed for the bathroom. “Pete and I should probably go as soon as possible. Will you be alright to bring him down to the Great Hall,” he heard James question as he shut the door.

The shower did wonders to Remus’ hangover. It diminished his headache and helped clear his vision. It also felt nice to be in clean clothes, even though it was devastating having to take Sirius’ shirt off. But letting himself feel his emotions was no more, so he pushed down that thought. Remus walked back into the dorm, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. Lifting his gaze, he noticed Sirius leaning against his bedpost with one ankle crossed over the other. His lips were pulled in a small smile. Their eyes connected.

“Tell who?”

Remus’ stare fell on the yellow paper in Sirius’ hand and the realisation hit him momentarily. His heart dropped all the way to the floor. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no... His mouth was utterly dry. Fear and panic washed over him like a thousand giant ocean waves coming down at once. ‘I wanna tell him I love him,’ he had written. Holy fucking fuck, he thought, Sirius knows I like a boy. There was a deafening, high pitched ringing in his ears.

“M-my dad... I never tell him that.” He was grasping at straws.

“Remus, come on,” Sirius huffed out a short laugh as he pushed himself off the board. He was shooting Remus this terribly meaningful look, and Remus begged the ground to crack open and claim him.

“I...“ Then before much further thinking, Remus turned on his heel and darted out the room and down the stairs as Sirius called out his name.

Fucked. He was so fucked. Idiot. Imbecile. How could he have written that and then just left it lying around?! Idiot. He smacked his forehead as he rounded a corner, then scuttled down the hallway. He was headed for his favourite hiding spot- a cosy alcove in the wall behind a tapestry on the fourth floor. Settling on the stone ground, Remus went through his breathing exercises. It wasn’t the first time he’d had an anxiety attack, except it was usually something associated with his lycanthropy. Shit, thank Merlin I didn’t write his name. He exhaled a shaky breath. It could have been worse, at least. He’s never drinking again, he concluded. Well, Sirius knew Remus liked boys. A boy. That was that. He rested his head on the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a while, just breathing.

“Moony,” a voice called behind the tapestry. It was Sirius. Remus’ heart rate spiked again. “Stop freaking out, mate.”

“I can’t,” Remus replied.

“Can I come in?”

“Okay.”

Sirius pulled back the tapestry and gracefully climbed inside. He was clutching the map. He sat opposite Remus and drew his knees to his chest so they could both fit in the alcove. Remus was looking at the ground.

“Here, I brought you a sandwich. You skipped breakfast. Can’t imagine it helped your hangover.”

Remus took it without looking up. “Thanks.”

After a moment, Sirius started: “This is because it’s a him, right?”

“Well...” Remus cleared his throat. It’s also kinda because it’s you. “Yeah.”

“And what? You think I wouldn’t be okay with that?” Silence. “I don’t care about stuff like that, you idiot.” Sirius’ voice was incredibly soft and comforting. Remus finally looked at him. He shook his head and buried his face in his knees.

“Christ. Of course you don’t. It’s just... It’s a big deal for me. Nobody knows.”

“That’s alright, Moony, I get it. It’s all good with me." He paused. "So, are you... if you don’t mind me asking...” Remus drew his head back up. Sirius was asking if he was gay.

“I have no idea what I am, honestly. This has never happened before. Then again, it hasn’t happened with a girl, either.”

“Well, that’s fine. You have your whole life to figure it out.” Sirius flashed him a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.” Remus’ lips curved as well.

After a few beats of silence, Sirius continued: “Moony in love... Blimey, this bloke must be something else, eh?” Yup.

“Well, I don’t know about love... I was pretty pissed last night when I wrote that.”

Sirius chuckled, throwing his head back. “Right. So... Does he fancy you back, d’you reckon?”

Remus couldn’t suppress the panicked short laugh that escaped his mouth. “No.” Sirius liking him back? What a joke.

“Well, how do you know? He doesn’t even know you fancy him, it seems.”

“Nope, and I hope it stays that way until the end of time.”

“Merlin, who is this lad anyway?”

“I’m not telling you!” Remus’ cheeks were flaming. There wasn’t a force in the world that could have made him look Sirius in the eye. This was a little too close for comfort.

“Hah, fine. One step at a time.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Their ankles were touching. Remus pushed down his feelings of affection with all the mental strength he could gather.

“Um, could you not tell Wormtail and Prongs, please? I’m just not ready for people to know.”

“Of course, mate. You know you can talk to me about it, though?” His expression was soft and understanding.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Brilliant. Okay then.” Sirius pushed himself up and dusted off his trousers. “Should we get out of here? This is definitely a secret snogging spot.” He offered a hand to Remus and pulled him to stand as well.

“Please don’t taint the aura of my favourite hideout, Padfoot.”

This is why Remus liked Sirius so much. Of course, he was strikingly good-looking and cool as hell, but Remus liked his personality more. Sirius was a troublemaker and joked around with everyone, but when it came to moments like this, he was an incredible and supportive friend. Never short on advice (even if it was questionable a lot of the time). He never hesitated to go above and beyond for the people he loved. These were also the reasons why Remus reckoned he’d had a crush on his best friend for much longer than 4 months. Sirius’ looks just made it crystal clear, but Remus had been falling for him for years. Maybe love wasn’t such a strong word after all...

On the way back to their dormitory, Sirius asked: “Is it that Ravenclaw guy you study with at the library? What’s his face? Oliver?”

An obvious choice, but wrong. “Shut up,” Remus said, looking straight ahead, but the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Okay.” Sirius put his hands up, smiling. “Not Oliver, then.”

Sirius kept prodding him like that every once in a while for the following two weeks. Sometimes he would point at a random bloke in the hall and ask if that was Remus’ mystery crush. It made Remus laugh. Generally, it didn’t bother him at all and even became rather amusing. It grew into a sort of an inside joke between them.

They were sitting side by side at dinner one evening after all the students had returned from the holidays. Sirius was in his curious, mischievous mood.

“Oh! The- the muggle kid we hung out with last Christmas? When we were at James’,” he tried.

“Hah, no,” Remus answered, “I saw him like twice.” Sirius huffed.

“Is it somebody from home, then? Somebody I don’t know?”

Remus could’ve lied. He could’ve lied so easily. Still, he decided against it, given how dreadful he was at keeping life-changing secrets. He shook his head, looking at his plate. Sirius leaned so close to him, their shoulders touched. He all but started bouncing in his seat.

“So it is someone from Hogwarts!” Remus didn’t bring himself to answer. Instead, he shoved a particularly packed fork into his mouth. They were silent for a few moments, then: “Is it Snivellus?”

“Yuck, Sirius!” Remus shoved his shoulder as they both laughed.

“So, why don’t you just tell this bloke of yours, then?”

“Ha. Because he’s straight.”

“Oh, bummer. Sorry, Moony.”

Remus wanted to bang his head on the table. If only Sirius knew he was apologising for himself being straight. “It is how it is.”

Back in their dorm, a parcel was sitting on Sirius’ bed. “Padfoot, something arrived for you earlier. I paid the owl,” James explained.

“Oh, yes! They arrived! Cheers, mate.” Sirius leapt onto his bed and started tearing the paper. “What is it,” James asked, leaning closer to Sirius’ bed and peering at the package. Remus and Peter were doing the same. “My rings,” he exclaimed, sliding a silver loop onto his finger. He placed one on his ring finger, one on his thumb and two on his index finger, then stretched out his arm to examine his hand. They were all different shapes.

“Wicked,” James blurted out.

“Yeah, wicked,” Peter repeated. Remus could just sit and gawk like his mouth was sewn shut. What the fuck, Remus thought. He’s trying to kill me. It was hot. It was hot. Like his hands could get any sexier.

“Don’t worry, Moony, it’s not real silver,” Sirius said with the biggest grin on his face. Remus could just nod, swallowing thickly. Yeah, that was a good excuse for why he was baffled.

Sirius wore his rings everywhere. To class, to every meal, sneaking around the castle at night to arrange their next prank. And Remus loved it. After the initial bewilderment subsided, he adored looking at them. However, it didn’t help reduce his massive fucking crush on Sirius. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. Girls would come up to Sirius at lunch to tell him ‘his rings look amazing’, and Remus would almost start growling. It was a bit of a problem. He needed to repeatedly tell his brain to shut up in these moments.

***

Sirius was running out of ideas for who Remus' infamous crush could be. Remus was a bit concerned he would actually figure it out. However, Sirius just started bringing it up less and less. It seemed like the entire thing was blowing over and Remus was getting away with it.

They were sitting on James’ bed, leaned over the map. There was nobody else in the dorm. Their bodies were close together, Remus’ right shoulder behind Sirius’ left.

“Good old Prongsy,” Sirius said. James’ dot on the map was in the hallway outside the Great Hall. Lilly’s dot was right next to it. “He’s probably making an idiot of himself again. Poor lad’s gonna get himself hexed.” Remus laughed.

“I admire him,” Remus said, “I would have died from embarrassment by now.”

“Oh, have you seen it?!” Sirius suddenly turned to look at him, their noses almost brushed. Remus’ heart skipped a beat.

“Seen what?”

“The abomination James made for Evans for Valentine’s day!”

“For Valentine’s? But it’s January,” Remus said as Sirius opened the drawer of James’ bedside table and reached inside. He pulled out a wooden cube that fit in the palm of his hand.

“It opens on my voice for now. Later he’ll change it to activate when Evans says ‘James’.” In that moment the top of the box popped open and the sides fell to reveal a petit yellow bird figurine. Just as Remus thought: Oh, this is cute, a blearing sound spread through the room. “Evans,” the bird boomed in James’ voice, “go on a date with me this Hogsmeade weekend!” Remus grimaced at the volume of the noise.

“My idea to make it loud,” Sirius said with a proud grin.

“Oh, why did you help him with it?!” Remus started laughing.

“He’s gonna transfigure it into a real bird and make it sit oh her shoulder giving her compliments the whole day. I haven’t decided whether I’m gonna let him go through with it. Reckon it might be worth it to see the look on Evans’ face.”

“This is bad.” Remus couldn’t stop sniggering. “This is so bad.”

“The lad has no shame. Maybe you could make one for your mystery man. I bet it would change his views,” Sirius joked. He was being incredibly charming. Remus couldn’t help it. When you’re not supposed to look at something, it’s all your eyes want to do. He dropped his gaze to Sirius’ flawless lips. It wasn’t discreet at all. Remus realised he was leaning towards him, smiling stupidly. Sirius’ eyes flickered between Remus’ as realisation flashed across his expression. He drew back a little. “Oh,” was all he said. Remus’ smile dropped suddenly as he pulled back as well.

“Me?”

Remus’ heart was thumping in his ears. It kind of felt like his soul was leaving his body. No, actually, he was sure his soul was leaving his body. Suddenly, he scrambled off the bed frantically, saying: “Fuck, sorry,” then crossed the room in three large, quick steps and bolted out the door. “Moony,” he heard the dim and distant shout. Deja vu. Only this time he’d had enough sense to grab the map.

Part 1 Part 3

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years ago

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Mission of Mercy: One

“Where’s she headed?” Bucky asked watching the woman loading the back of her small SUV with a duffle bag and assorted odds and ends.

She was a friend of Sam’s, one from his days at the VA, Bucky knew, but he couldn’t remember her name. Sam had got her the gig with SHEILD. I guess he figured they all needed counseling. Or a team mom. Or whatever it was she did. Outreach, Bucky figured. Generating good PR.

“Looks like a mission of Mercy,” Sam said with a small, slightly sad smile. Bucky looked at him for explanation and Sam sighed, instantly looking sadder and a few years older.

“She’s a third generation Army Brat,” Sam explained. “Dad never came home from Desert Storm and Brother didn’t come back from… whatever the fuck he was doing. Mom was a VA nurse before she retired… So Y/N knows a lot of grumpy old fucks that don’t like to leave their houses. She makes rounds a few times a week still, for the people she’s known since she was just a kid. Friends of her dad’s, some cousins twice removed.”

Bucky exhaled slowly and nodded. That he hadn’t known. He’d never really paid that much attention to you. But now he looked again. You were packing down styrofoam coolers with what looked like milk, eggs, cheese, and assorted lunch meat. And you had a few labeled boxes of cans. A couple cases of beer… That made Bucky smile a little. And he could respect what you were doing.

“Y/N!” Sam called across the motor pool, “Who’s on your list?”

“Joe, Rocky, and Cooksy, at least for today,” you answer, “Mac and Wild man are still in the nursing home for rehab.”

“Joe, huh?” Sam said walking over, Bucky trailing after him looking confused.

“You wanting to go along?” you ask, smiling, tightening the ratchet straps that held the styrofoam coolers in place.

“That old man still owes me a rematch,” Sam said grinning.

“Rematch in what?” Bucky asked, catching a case of beer that had started to slide of it’s perch and slotting it carefully into an open space for you.

“Dice,” you snort, “Sam swears he cheats.” You give Bucky a smile of thanks and slot a small gift bag in next to the case and Bucky has to look away from you. His face feels hot and he feels like you’re looking through him. So he looks at your hands. Work roughened. Nails bitten to the quick. Useful hands. Not just ornaments at the ends of your wrists. Efficient.

“He Does!” Sam’s voice breaks through Bucky’s distraction and jolts him back to the world. Back out of his head. And for that, Bucky is momentarily grateful. And a scolding gasp from you immediately makes him too aware.

“Get off my bread you fucking heathen,” you grouse, only half playing as you give Sam a shove away from a bag.

“My bad,” Sam said, quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “You got a minute though?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Go get your stuff. I don’t want to wake Joe up before he’s ready.”

Sam gives you a grin and trots off and Bucky sighs, mentally trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. He didn’t want to assume he was going.

“Joe did intelligence work during WWII,” you tell him, “You guys can always swap some bullshit stories… If you want to come.”

Bucky looked at you. You aren’t looking at him, instead you’re leaning on the bumper of your car and looking somewhere not quite the middle distance, but at something, anything else. And he can’t decide if you’re nervous or just awkward. And he can’t decide how he feels about making you nervous. He was nervous. His palms felt clammy and the rolling in his stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to be butterflies or hornets.

“Joe won’t mind?” Bucky asked.

“A friend of mine is a friend of his,” you say, and Bucky can see that the corner of your mouth is upturned in a smile. “He’s a cousin… kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“He’s a cousin of a friend of my mom’s… He used to look after me sometimes when mom had to run a night shift.”

Bucky nodded, “That-” he couldn’t decide if that was “nice,” or “Cool,” or “weird.”

“He taught me how to draw in three point perspective, gamble, and make a decent martini,” you say, and Bucky can hear the fondness in your voice. “Most importantly I guess, he never let me be a weirdo by myself.”

Bucky let himself chuckle. And when you chanced looking up at him, the rolling in his stomach decided it was butterflies.

You were smiling. The kind of smile that would be seductive outlines in red. But right now? With no make up on and your hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail? You looked like a kid about to cause trouble. And he wanted to see what trouble that was going to be.

Sam retuned before Bucky could formulate something flirty to say. Something that wouldn’t sound too dirty or too corny. Something that might make you swoon a little... though. As you swore at Sam across the motorpool telling him to hurry the fuck up, Bucky doubted very much that you had ever swooned in your life. But he could absolutely see that having a grumpy old man baby sit you had had some other amusing outcomes.

Swear words didn’t look like they fit you. Your mouth was too sweet looking and the words were too blunt and ugly. It looked like they would fit wrong and come out worse. But. The way you said them was so casual. As if you had never not said them. And that… For some reason, tickled Bucky. He likes smart girls. He liked girls with a temper. And listening to you bicker with Sam just… It definitely burst some more butterflies out of their cocoons. It was nice, Sam having to put up with a smart mouth instead of being the one to dish it out.

__________

The drive was fine.

Sam didn’t even complain about the music you played. A blend that gave Bucky whiplash and something of a headache behind his eyes. But. That wasn’t your fault. A lot of the music past his own time did that.

The Audio bombast of discordant sounds and coded meanings of the ever evolving slang was… a lot. So he mostly focused on the scenery. The cars. The people. The sky. The architecture. That helped. Some things about New York would probably never really change. There were more people now. Fewer dresses and more people in pants… And fewer roving packs of kids. But. It felt the same.

It wasn’t until he was standing on the doorstep. He and Sam looming over you like bodyguards that he noticed differences. The lack of washing hung out to dry. The consistent low hum of multiple air conditioners. The lack of kid noises. The lack of… community. The way everyone was together, and apart simultaneously.

But when the door swung open slowly, and Bucky was greeted by a little old man. One with thick glasses, a bald head, and stooped shoulders. A neck that made him look like a turtle… A sudden warmth washed over him.

“There’s my favorite ray of Sunshine,” he said, pulling you into an unembarrassed hug. The kind men in his time reserved for their mothers and beloved children. “And my second favorite pain in the ass!” he said, rasping a laugh as he clasped Sam’s hand in his.

“I moved up a spot,” Sam chuckled.

“Eh, the neighbor’s dog died last week,” Joe said, giving Bucky a steady, appraising look.

“Aww, Bear died?” you say sadly, “poor old man… How’s Irene doing with it?”

Joe turned back towards you and chucked you under the chin gently with a small smile. Bucky didn’t miss the tears that had welled up, and evidently, neither had the old man. “She’s heart broke,” he said, “But, she told me to tell you he loved the blanket and it made his last couple weeks more cozy.”

Joe stepped back and ushered you into the house, letting you pass him to go and quietly pull yourself back together, Bucky figured. The butterflies in his stomach catching a sudden chill.

“Who’s he?” Joe asked, arms folding across his scrawny chest as he straightened himself to his full height… or as close to it as he could manage.

“Winter Soldier,” Sam said grinning, clapping him on the shoulder before going to get the stuff you had for him out of your trunk.

“No shit?” Joe said, adjusting his glasses.

“No shit,” Sam answered, calling over his shoulder.

“Well Son,” he said to Bucky, “Come on in. I gotta add a bottle of Jack to my grocery list… it looks like I lost a bet.”

And Bucky can’t help it. He laughs.

In the Hall, just inside the door, Bucky can hear you rattling around. It sounds like dishes being done. And maybe a broom being used and Joe shakes his head. “She’ll make someone a nice wife some day, but fuck if I know what kind of man could handle her.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was for him to hear or just Joe Musing to himself out loud, but he smiled anyway and followed him inside. On the walls, there were pictures. Covered bridges, flower gardens, portraits… Presumably of people that the old man knew. Or had known. And the smell of dust and old paper. Decades of smoke from meals cooked and packs of cigarettes. It smelled like age. A sepia tone that mellowed and dulled all the colors around him. But somehow there was nothing harsh. Or forbidding.

“Will you sit down?” The old man groused, “I have a broad that comes in and does all that shit.”

“Then you’re paying her too much because she ain’t been doin’ it right, old man,” you tell him over your shoulder as you rinse a plate.

“Bah,” Joe said, flapping his hands at you. Clearly realizing that this wasn’t a fight he could win as he lowered himself into his spot at the kitchen table. “Siddown, son,” he said to Bucky, “Take a load off and let these stupid kids do the grunt work.”

“Kids,” Sam scoffed, putting boxes on the counter with an eye roll as he nudged you.

“I hear him,” you snort. “Careful old man,” you tease, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin and at your age, replacement parts are hard to come by.”

“Listen Heifer,” Joe said, eyes dancing behind his thick glasses, “If you wanna kick my old ass, you better pack a lunch.”

You shake your head, and pull the top off a styrofoam cooler, “I got your lunch meat and some eggs. That was it right?”

“Yup,” Joe said, “How much do I owe you?”

“A Dr. Pepper,” you answer over your shoulder, making Joe give you a stern look.

“Young Lady-”

“You’re not giving me money, ya old coot,” you say, more fond than scolding as you kiss the top of his bald head.

“The hell I’m not-”

“I’ll tell momma and she’ll have both our asses. Me for taking the money and you for payin’ me.”

“She’s got you there Joe,” Sam said, grinning.

“You shaddup,” Joe said grumpily, eyeing your back. And Bucky could see he was trying to gauge how likely it was that he could slip you some money without you knowing you’d been given any. Bucky grinned and Caught Sam’s eye before bumping the table with his knee to get the old man’s attention.

Once the Old man’s sharp eyes had fixed on him, Bucky glanced meaningfully towards the coat rack. Where your jacket hung so conveniently.And Joe followed his gaze, he grinned and touched his nose in acknowledgement.

“Don’t you fuckin’ do it,” you say not turning around.

And Joe made a silent “rats” gesture, before sticking his tongue out at your back

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #sam wilson #falcon #Winter Soldier #bucky fluff #Bucky x reader fluff #swearing

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hopelikethemoon · 5 years ago

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today (Javier x Reader) [smut]

Title: today Length: 3,200 Warnings: Angst, rough sex (shower sex, biting, unprotected), lots of fluff, parenthood, blood. Summary: Set a year after maybe, Javier and Reader come to terms with their relationship. Notes: So I’m literally terrified that this drabble will not hold up to the glory of maybe and I almost didn’t publish this. BUT I AM CAUSE YOLO. Shoutout to @rzrcrst for providing me with the best possible name for the baby.

The morning sun still managed to get through your opaque curtains, cutting harsh shadows across your bedroom as it shone brightly past the vinyl blinds. You nestled a little deeper into your pillow, trying to cling to those last few precious moments of sleep. Any second now your daughter would start crying — the new normal for your daily sunrises.

Javier, however, seemed determined to find a new morning ritual.

Now that you were awake, the possessive arm that he always kept wrapped around you had started to move downwards. Fingertips trailing over your stomach, tracing over the stretchmarks there, worshipping your soft flesh. You sighed softly as his hand moved lower beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, slipping between your thighs.

“Morning,” He whispered as he pressed his lips to your shoulder as he dragged his fingers between your folds. You had lost count of how many mornings he had tried, in vain, to initiate sex. You could feel his stiff cock straining through his boxers and pressing against the back of your thigh as he curled close behind you.

You reached behind you, pushing your fingers through his hair as you parted your thighs for him. As much as you wanted him, you knew it wasn’t meant to be. Like clockwork your daughter would start crying — ruining any chance for waking up in your favorite fashion.

Three. Two. One.

Javier pressed his face into the crook of your neck and groaned, “Every damn morning.” He complained, pulling his hand out from between your thighs, releasing you so you could go to her.

It had been months. You had still been pregnant the last time you had Javier between your thighs. You missed it — desperately — but there just wasn’t any time.

No one at the DEA knew who the father was. You had both decided, early on, that it was for the best. Sure, some of the guys treated you like a two-bit whore when you said you didn’t know who the father was, but at least they weren’t trying to edge you out of the department because you were fucking your partner.

By the time you emerged from the nursery with a freshly changed and fed baby, Javier was already showered and dressed, sitting at your kitchen table nursing a cup of black coffee. You gave him a sympathetic smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe tonight?”

Javier pursed his lips and shook his head. “I got stuck on the stakeout.” He took a sip of his coffee, before sitting it further up on the table so he could take Josie from you. He held her up in the air, much to her enjoyment. She adored him, almost as much as he adored her.

“I just fed her,” You warned him, running your hand over his shoulders before you headed towards the fridge to retrieve milk for your cereal.

“I don’t know how people do it,” Javier remarked, glancing back over his shoulder at you. “I had friends back home in Texas who had kids stacked up.”

You laughed as you moved to settle down beside him at the table. “Yeah...I have no idea how people have Irish twins.” You made a face. “If she’s not screaming, we’re both too tired...”

“I can’t believe I’m admitting this aloud, but I’m getting fucking tired of my own hand.” He complained, before showering his daughter with kisses as he bounced her on his lap.

“Her first word is going to be fucking if you’re not careful,” You teased. “Which is ironic, all things considered.”

Javier gave you a dirty look, though his lips still quirked upwards with amusement. “She’s going to be four months old in a week.” He reminded you.

“I know.” You propped your chin up on your palm as you watched him with her. No one at the office knew what he was like within the safety of your apartment. “How late do you think it’ll be tonight?”

“Probably late enough that I’ll just go take a shower and head into the office.”

You nodded, scooping up some cereal then. “I figured.”

“You do still want—“

“Yes.” You answered before he could even finish the sentence. “I keep hoping one morning she won’t interrupt us.”

“Knowing us, we’d just worry about why she wasn’t crying.” Javier rolled his eyes, before talking in a teasing voice to her. “Little Miss Josie enjoys interrupting mommy and daddy. Don’t you?” He tickled her sides and she squealed and giggled. He glanced up at you, “You’re sure…?”

“Javi.” You laughed, your cheeks turning red. “Trust me, I miss it just as much as you do.”

He smirked. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.” Javier snorted, glancing down at his daughter. “You too, Josie.”

“Luckily it’s a short drive.” You taunted with a self-satisfied grin, finishing off the last of your cereal and holding your hands out for her. “Good luck tonight, in case we don’t get a moment alone at work.”

Javier rose to his feet, settling his hand at your hip as he looked between you and Josie. “I’m gonna miss my girls tonight.”

“We’re going to miss you too.” You tilted your chin, smiling up at him as he leaned down to kiss you. Josie squawked over not being the center of attention, her chubby little hands grabbing at your faces.

“And I’ll see you tomorrow, lil’ miss.” He took her from you once more, playfully lifting Josie up in the air just to make her giggle. Javier grinned at you as he cradled her against his chest. Despite all of his initial hesitations about parenthood — he’d become an incredible father. You were fairly certain Josie was well on her way to being a daddy’s girl, just from how her sweet face lit up whenever he was around.

——

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

You dropped Josie off at the sitter down the hall from your apartment, a sweet older woman who you were certain Josie would grow up to call her abuelita. The nice part was that she had zero connections with the DEA, which meant both you and Javier were listed as her emergency contacts. One of the few places he was free to be acknowledged as her father.

Work dragged on for an eternity. Javier spent most of the day in and out of meetings in preparation for the stakeout, looking more stressed than usual. Especially when the CIA showed up for one of the late-afternoon briefings.

“Seems like a shit show,” You remarked to Javi as he came back from the break room with a styrofoam cup of stale coffee.

He grunted his response as he sank down at his desk across from you, glowering in your direction. “You have no idea.”

You weren’t alone in the bullpen of desks.

Chris, one of the lower level DEA agents, chimed in. “I guess every stakeout can’t be at a brothel. Eh, Peña?” He laughed, like it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever said.

“Damn shame.” Javier offered with a blasé tone, sipping at his coffee. Even though you’d lowered your gaze back to the mounting stack of papers on your desk, you knew he was watching you.

You’d managed to keep the charade in place for a year now, but sometimes it felt like the universe was testing your patience. Mostly it was just Chris, trying desperately to seem like he fit in around the office. He was obviously supposed to fill the void that Murphy left behind, but instead, he just became the gopher for whatever task Javier wasn’t in the mood to put up with.

“How’s the kiddo?” Chris asked as he leaned back in his seat and propped his legs up on his desk.

“She’s fine.” You answered crisply, offering a faint smile before shuffling your papers like you were busy.

“My girl’s been nagging me about kids. I told her — I don’t know if that’s for me. You know?” He wadded up a piece of paper and chucked it across the room, where it joined a pile of crumpled papers that hadn’t made it into the bin. “When’d you decide kids weren’t for you, Peña?”

Javier snorted, “I ain’t dead yet.”

Dissatisfied with Javier’s answer, Chris turned his attention back to you. “Well, I think it’s real modern of you to be a working mom. “I think Van Ness was raised by a single mom. He turned out okay.”

“I’m sure Josie will turn out just like her mom,” Javier interjected, getting up from his desk to throw Chris’ paper mess away in the bin. He passed behind your desk and gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze, though you knew exactly what those three little squeezes meant. “I hate to abandon this riveting conversation, but I gotta head out.” He nodded his head towards Chris, before leaving with a lingering look in your direction.

——

The little chain attached to your bedside lamp clinked against the metal base as it swung freely. The warm golden light cut through the darkness of your bedroom, casting ominous shadows across Javier’s face as he stood in the doorway. You were relieved, at first, to see him — until you took account of the dark stains that colored his pale blue shirt. The crimson that was smeared across his cheek.

“Javi—” You started, throwing your covers back as you moved towards him. “What the hell happened?” Your eyes raked over him, looking for the source of the blood. “Are you hurt?”

“Daniel.” He answered lowly, “He got shot.”

Javier flinched when you reached out to touch him, his hand flying up to grab your wrists. He squeezed it tightly, just this side of pain. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, the barely contained rage flowing through him. The after-effects of a firefight.

“Don’t.” Javier warned as you started to reach out for him with the hand that wasn’t caught in his vice-like grip.

“Tell me what happened.”

He looked away, brows furrowed and his jaw working tightly. “The intel was bad. Shit was a setup.” He loosened his hold on your wrist, letting his arms drop down by his sides. “He’ll live. Barely.”

“Good.” Your heart was still racing from the alarm of being awoken in the middle of the night. Javier was lucky you recognized his footsteps, otherwise, you would’ve been forced to use the gun in your nightstand. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m fine.” He gritted out, but you knew that wasn’t the case. Maybe he was physically unharmed, but his demeanor told another story. He’d been through hell and back and his first instinct was to come home to you. Bloodied and brooding, you were the person he sought out when nothing made sense.

Javier didn’t pull away when you reached for him again. You brushed your fingertips over his forehead, trailing them down along the rise of his cheekbone. His expression softened subtly as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “Let me take care of you.” You whispered, taking his hand into yours. “You need a shower.” Not only was he covered in blood, but you could smell the adrenaline-fueled sweat clinging to his skin.

He nodded stiffly and let you guide him out of your bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. His clothes came off easily, his ruined shirt abandoned on the floor, joined moments later by his dark denim jeans that were darkened in spots by Daniel’s blood.

Neither of you spoke as you helped him undress. Words just weren’t necessary as you turned the shower on and watched him step behind the sliding glass door. Nothing even needed to be said when you followed him in, still dressed in your sleep shorts and a tank top.

The warm water washed the blood off his skin, turning the water red around your bare feet. You dragged a washcloth over his neck and jaw, wiping away what the water couldn’t claim. Your soft touches couldn’t ease all of the tension in his body. He was holding it all in, desperate to keep control of his emotions.

Javier crowded you back against the wall of the shower, breathing raggedly as he stared down at you — like a predator with its prey. Something snapped; the tension, the desire, the rush of emotions. His fingers clawed at your sleep shorts, dragging the damp fabric down your hips. You surged up to kiss him, fingers curling around the back of his neck as your mouth slanted against his. A clash of teeth, a twist of tongues, desperate and bruising and fueled by a need.

He tore at your tank top, freeing one breast and roughly palming at it. It had been months since you’d been touched like this. Any attempt at intimacy had come from early morning interrupted fumbles and half-asleep groping that inevitably ended in snoring.

“Please.” You hissed out, fingernails dragging down the back of his neck, pressing close to him. His rigid cock was trapped between your bellies and you groaned at the mere thought of having him in you again.

Javier’s teeth dragged over your bottom lip with just enough pressure that you were certain your lip would be swollen tomorrow. You didn’t care. You’d wear the marks he gave you, in trade for the ones he wore that were beneath the skin.

His fingers twisted in your hair, a harsh grip as he turned you around to face the wall. Your tender breasts pressed against the cool tile, a shiver racing down your spine. He kissed the back of your neck, tongue tracing water droplets that cling to your shoulder. His teeth found purchase on a tender spot of skin where your neck became your shoulder and you tried not to cry out.

You wanted Josie to stay asleep. You needed Javier too much to stop.

His fingers grabbed at your thigh, fingers pressing into soft flesh harshly enough to bruise. He used his knee to nudge your legs apart wider, positioning you just right.

Javier released his grip on your hair, using his hand to cover your mouth. Your teeth scraped against his palm, finding purchase in the skin to muffle the moan that escaped you as he guided his cock into you. He pressed in until your ass was pressed against his hips — filling you completely.

You pried his hand off your mouth, panting out his name. He wasn’t moving and you desperately needed him to move. You clenched around him, trying to spur him on and it worked.

He fucked you like his life depended on it. All of that tension he’d balled up inside of himself came flooding out of him with every brutal snap of his hips. You were trapped between the wall and his cock — fingers grabbed at the forearm he had securely wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned against him.

His other hand was wedged between your thighs, roughly stroking at your clit in time with his pace. It almost hurt, how hard you came apart for him. Your body bowed back against his chest, hands uselessly grabbing at the wet shower wall for support.

Javier’s teeth left a mark on your shoulder as he followed behind you. All it took was two sharp thrusts and you felt him spill within you, his cock throbbing as you clenched around him desperately. The water had gone cold above you, but that wasn’t the only reason you were trembling. Despite how roughly he had handled you, in the aftermath he lavished your tender skin with soft kisses and touches, trying to ease the pain he’d caused.

It wasn’t until Javier’s cock slid out of you and you were able to turn around to face him that you saw how red his eyes were. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve mistaken his tears for the water droplets flowing down his cheeks from the showerhead. But you knew him. Better than anyone else did.

Javier wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. You didn’t care how cold the water got above you, you played with his hair and held him while he sobbed into your shoulder.

——

When the first light of morning crept in through your windows, you were surprised to find the bed empty beside you. Instinctively, you got out of bed and made your way down the hall to the nursery. Your heart clenched as you pushed the door open and found Javier inside.

He was sound asleep on the floor beside Josie’s crib, his hand wedged between the gap in the bars. Josie had fallen asleep with her little hand wrapped around his fingers. You quietly stepped further inside, leaving the door partially open so the sound of the door shutting wouldn’t disturb them. You moved towards the rocking chair in the corner of the room, taking the blanket off the arm. As you turned back around, Javier stirred — blinking groggily up at you.

You pressed a finger to your lips to keep him quiet as you sat down on the floor beside him. You unfolded the blanket over your laps, settling yourself into his side, resting your cheek against his chest.

Javier kissed the top of your head, curling his arm around your shoulders. “I want to tell them.” He whispered into your hair.

You shifted beside him so you could cup his cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “Then we’ll tell them today.”

Daniel getting shot had broken something within him. He hadn’t said it, but you knew. You understood it. That fear. Now that you had a kid, the DEA didn’t put you into as many dangerous situations — but Javi was still out there getting shot at, playing Russian Roulette with his life. It could’ve easily been Javier who had gotten shot last night and you wouldn’t have known until you walked into work and read a report.

“Javi,” You started, tracing your fingertips over his collarbone as you watched him.

“Mhm?”

“I want you to move in.”

Javier grinned back at you, his fingers squeezing your shoulder three short times. “Thought you’d never ask, baby.”

Josie whimpered softly in her crib and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was wondering when that was going to happen.”

Javier got up to get her before joining you on the floor again, leaning back against the crib. “You’re going to get so sick of me.” He said in a teasing voice to Josie as he propped her up against his bent knees. “Daddy’s going to be here all the time now.”

You scooted close, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t think she could ever get sick of you.”

“What about you?”

“Jury’s out on that one.” You pulled back a little to look at him, lips pursed together thoughtfully. “There’s always the potential.”

The morning felt like any other.

Javier dressed while Josie nursed. He had coffee made and on the table when you came into the kitchen. He entertained the baby while you made yourself a bowl of cereal.

But today he didn’t leave before you.

Today, your car didn’t leave the parking lot.

Today, Javi drove to work with his hand on your thigh, rubbing those annoying little circles of his into your leg.

Today, you stole a kiss from him in the elevator.

Today, you didn’t care what anyone thought.

Today, Javier wasn’t just your partner — he was Josie’s father.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena

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redhoodedwolf · 5 years ago

Text

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs.

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fic rec list

103 notes · View notes

masked-buffoon · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 10: Truth and illusions (Part 6)

Warnings: mention of traumatic events

Author notes: here is the last part for that chapter. I hope you liked it...! As always, don’t hesitate to comment and reblog...! And I’ll see you in the next chapter, where the case will continue! (Do I like cliffhangers? Surely I do...)

The blond man arrived shortly after the doctor's departure and, already, I could feel the atmosphere change. The investigation would be directed by him, despite the case being mine, and would be led according to his methods, which I feared would be too righteous. I decided to report to him nonetheless.

"A mentalist…?" He sounded shocked.

"Why, it's either that or this woman truly is a robot." I shrugged "What does your ideal notebook say?"

"Neither should be possible." He declared, simply.

I rolled my eyes and took a paper on the table of the dining room, where I had installed a computer and diverse tools to work.

"Here is the list of every person in Yokohama able to put someone under hypnosis."

"There are three of them… And only one is legal. Is that a joke, Ogawa…?"

"Quiet…! My name here is Fuyuno Kasumi…" I whispered.

"What on earth…" He grumbled "As you wish, but I will question you about that."

"Sure thing." I sighed "Can we go back to the case, now?"

"Then tell me about this list."

"It's not complicated. Mentalism, in particular hypnotism, isn't an easy skill to learn, in the first place, so the number of people using it is very low." I explained.

"Why are most of them criminals…?!"

"Mmh… Except for the purpose of amusing people, what do you think of such a technique? Yeah, exactly that." I answered in his stead as I saw his puzzled face "Committing a crime is so easy when you can manipulate the witnesses or even your target. Suppose you want to rob a house —"

"Alright, alright, no need for details." He cut me "You should stay here while I go and find these mentalists or whatever, then."

"Oh, I don't think so."

Kunikida glared at me and closed his notebook swiftly.

"Why is that?"

"First of all, this is my case, and —"

"Your case? That's not your case but the Agency's! Keep thinking so individually and you'll never be part of us…!"

Then, as though he had realised something, he stopped talking a minute, blankly staring at me. After being yelled at so vehemently, I did not dare say a thing anymore and patiently waited for him to go on.

"What's the other reason?"

"Well…" I hesitated.

"Goddammit, that woman really is a pain…"

I was anxious. In fact, I was completely lost and a strange ball of tears had formed in my throat. I fought to contain them. Why was it that I kept messing up…? With Yosano-sensei, with Kunikida…

"Hypnotism doesn't work on me…" I said in a breath.

"What? Speak louder…! You who's usually so confident, how is it I can't hear you anymore...?!"

"Why is it that she's so useless, all of a sudden…?!"

My legs gave up on me and I crouched down, shamefully holding my hands above my mouth to repress a sob, but my tears betrayed my true feelings. I who had strived not to cry again… Why was it I could never hold it back?

"Ogawa…? Wait, what —"

I gasped when he touched my wrist and covered my head with my arms, backing away from him as much as I could.

"I'm sorry…! I'm sorry…!" I cried "Please don't hit me… I'm sorry…! I won't be useless anymore… So… Please…"

"What the heck is she doing…?!"

"Stop that…!" He demanded "I didn't do a thing, so stop crying!"

He was suddenly pushed away and replaced by another person, whose touch immediately dissipated the aggressive thoughts coming to my mind. Instead, they were replaced by my own, which looped around my brain, repeating "incompetent" again and again. It did not calm me down, but at least, I had retrieved some of my sanity. Hearing myself again… It was helpful, after all. I wrapped my arms around the one who had saved me, recognising his warmth and thanking him silently for coming. After that terrible day, he was everything I needed to overcome the everlasting pain in my chest.

"Dazai…" I hiccupped "I… I screwed up…"

"Not yet, Ogawa…" He spoke, softly "Not yet…"

"With the detectives… I angered sensei and Kunikida…"

"Everyone makes mistakes…"

"... I am a hateful person…"

"Who said that?"

I pointed at myself.

"I can feel it… In here… I am not someone good… I can't do it, after all… Being part of the Agency… I'm not fit for the job after all…"

"Ogawa…" He sighed, grabbing my shoulders to force me to look at him "Stop, now. The director gave you a chance because he believes in you. That's why, don't you dare pity yourself and, instead, stand up to face the trials. You can do that much, can't you?"

His fingers felt rough on my body and I whispered slightly. He was scolding me, too, and I knew that, had we not gone through specific stages of relationship, he would have slapped me. I took a moment to breath and wiped my tears away. He was right after all, crying would not solve a thing, nor would it fix the situation. I grabbed the hand he held out to me and stood up to brush the dust away from my clothes, then faced the blond detective.

"As I was saying earlier…" I cleared my throat "Hypnotism doesn't work on me. My ability allows me to know beforehand about my interlocutor's motives, after all."

"What the hell was that…" Kunikida groaned, massaging his temples "And what are you even doing here, Dazai…?!"

"I figured Ogawa would need some help with you~" He hummed "Besides, her name is Fuyuno Kasumi here, don't forget that…~"

"As long as it doesn't hinder the mission."

"It won't, I promise." I assured "Anyway, as I said —"

"Yes, I know, you're immune to hypnosis or whatever… Even so, I can't let you go alone, and you perfectly know why."

"It is true that I do seem mentally unstable to you…" I thought out loud, a hand under my chin "Moreover, you don't trust me…"

"That's not it…!" He protested "That's your first time working for us, have you already forgotten…?!"

I chuckled.

"Obviously, I was just messing with you. Although the part about trusting me was not a wrong guess from my part." I grinned "However, if you go, we'll never find Sakunosuke-kun."

"Hoh? Why is that?" He glared at me.

"Because~" Dazai answered for me "You'd be easily manipulated~"

"Me?? Never…!" He scoffed.

"Kunikida…" I held back a snicker "Just yesterday, I used you to go back to the Agency…"

"I did see through your intention…"

"And I convinced you to write something about wrinkles in your notebook when you arrested me, the first day we met… To better knock you out with a chair." I reminded him.

"You did that…?" Dazai's eyes widened "That's my friend…! Just before meeting you again, I did the same…! But it was about heart disease…~"

"Alright, you win!" He conceded "You'll go, and I'll come with you. Dazai you stay here to watch over Yumiko-san and Kitaro-kun while we investigate with… Fuyuno."

"Sure thing. Have fun the two of you~ And, mostly, don't traumatise her, Kunikida-kun~ She's a sensitive woman, as you witnessed~"

"Stop mocking me." I glanced at my friend playfully as we left "Let's go, Kunikida…! We'll start with the legal one, an illusionist named Cosmo… Cosmo the Wonderful. "

"Don't order me around…!" He protested "But, sure… That's better, to start…

"Don't tell me… You're afraid of being used…!" I guessed.

"Absolutely not…! Mind your own business…!"

"Eh… The mighty Kunikida is scared of illusionists… That's because you don't understand their tricks, but once you know how they work, it's fine." I told him.

"I'm not scared…!"

"Want me to explain how they do the box trick on the way? You know, the one where they cut —"

"Aaah stop that!! You're unbearable…!"

"... A person. In fact, they don't really cut their assistant. It's an illusion created by mirrors…"

"It's going to be a very long drive…"

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida

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walking-true-to-style · 6 years ago

Text

But We’re Best Friends! || J.M.

Pairing: University Joe Mazzello! X University! Reader

Words: 6.1K

Warnings: suggestive themes, swearing

Gender: unspecified

Request: @queenscoolcat

“If you still need an idea maybe you could write something where Joe is in love with the reader but he thinks they don’t feel the same way until reader kiss him and he just melts and is speechless”

Synopsis: Joe pleads with you to audition for USC’s performance of Rocky Horror Picture show. Partly because he loves seeing you acting, but also partly because he has the biggest crush on you. Though, he doubts you would ever feel the same. You two have been best friends since your Freshman year in college! He would never want to jeopardize that! Would you?

“You HAVE to audition!” Joe whines at you. You scrutinize the poster, the red lips and bloody font pop out at you immediately.

Rocky Horror Picture Show

“I don’t know, Joe. I don’t think that’s my… area of expertise.” You chuckle at his enthusiasm. His eyes widen at your words.

“What do you mean? You’re acting is amazing!” you bite back a genuine grin, your cheeks dusting a shade of red at his compliment. “I MEAN walking around in lingerie and being… sensual? Not really what I’m good at.” At this point Joe looks as if he was a kicked puppy in the rain.

“Please just at least audition with me! If you don’t get in, then at least you can say you tried, right?” he brings out his lower lip. How can you resist those big, brown, beautiful eyes. You press your lips together in thought.

You admit, it would be kinda fun to be in it- the costumes, the music, the general aesthetic were things you adore. Plus, this is your last year at USC, may as well give it a shot, right? You already know Joe will get a lead role- he always does. You really appreciate him being supportive and telling you that you’ll get in. But the fear lingers of showing your body off in front of many people. You decide that it’s worth it, if it means getting into your favorite show, and, like he said, if you don’t land a role, at least you tried.

“Fine, but you’re going to help me with the audition! Payback for making me prepare something the day before.”

“Deal!” Joe exclaims. He takes the pen and fills in your name under one of the few time slots available- Saturday, 7:30 PM. You won’t be going together, but at least you know you’ll have his support.

That day after classes, you go to Joe’s flat and immediately begin updating resumes, working on songs, and dancing around like there’s no tomorrow. Joe puts on a dance for you that is somewhere between the Charleston and the Funky Chicken. You can’t help but break into a belly laugh. “I sincerely hope you don’t have a dancing role.” you snort and throw a pretzel at him from the bag slumped at your side. He feigns insult and puts his hand over his heart. He makes mock crying sounds, inducing another hearty laugh from you.

“Show me what you have, then!” you shake your head, smirking.

“It’s late, Joe, I should get back to my place.” you turn to your side and start packing your backpack.

Joe cocks a brow at you, cracking a shit-eating grin.

“Backing away from the challenge, are you?”

“You know how my flatmate is about waking her up by coming home at “UNGODLY” hours of the night.” You zip up your bag, and Joe groans. Before you have time to get up, he slumps onto you, pinning you to the couch, knocking some of the wind out of you. “At least stay the night! They’re still gonna throw a fit either way.” he begs. You sigh, giving him an even “Okay, okay.” Still he doesn’t get off. You attempt to push him off, but he remains in his spot- total dead weight. You give up, seeing the futility of the situation and let him lay there for a while. However, as pins and needles begin poking at your legs, you ask Joe to get up. He apologizes and gets off you, offering a movie and to grab your extra clothes you keep in the event of nights like this. You nod, and he sets off to his room. On the way, he stops at his flatmate’s door and gives it a quick knock, realizing he didn’t exactly ask if you can stay. “Yeah?” his flatmate calls from inside. Joe enters to find his flatmate taking notes at his desk, face buried deep in a textbook. “Hey, sorry, but is it cool that (y/n) stays the night?” Joe asks. His flatmate looks up from his notes and turns to him.

“(y/n) practically lives here, so, sure?” Joe gives a guilty smile to him and ushers a “Thanks, Tom”. As he is about to close the door, Tom asks, “When are you gonna do it then, huh?” Joe looks back at him, brows knitted together.

“Do… what?”

Tom lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Ask (y/n) out, you idio-” “SHHHH” Joe comes back into the room and closes the door, shooting a glare at Tom.

“(y/n) can hear you!” he whispers urgently. Tom smirks and rolls his eyes, making Joe huff irritably.

“Sorry, jeez,” Tom sighs. “But seriously when are you going to do it. You make goo-goo eyes at (y/n) every time you two are in the same room.” Joe bites the inside of his cheek and shrugs. “I- I don’t know. We both have a lot going on between school and the show and-”

“Excuses, excuses. What is it about (y/n) that scares you? Cuz you act like a pussy every time I ask this.” Joe looks down sheepishly. “W- Well… (y/n) is just so...perfect and authentic and sweet….” he lists off the qualities he loves about you effortlessly. Though, he catches himself mid lecture on you and snaps himself out of his out trance.

“...but we��ve been friends way too long. I’d hate to ruin that, y’know? Besides, I highly doubt (y/n) would feel the same.”

At this point, Tom is almost ready to throw his psychology book at Joe. He rubs his temple before clapping his hands together and sitting back in his desk chair in mock therapy mode.

“Okay, then let’s weigh our scenarios. Hypothetically- just work with me here- you ask (y/n) out let’s say… after the show or some shit.” his roommate brings up his hand as puppets. Joe sits on the bed, folding his arms, ready to humor whatever silly thing his flatmate is about to do. “Oh, (y/n)! (y/n), you looked so gorgeous and sexy onstage I loooove you, will you go out with me?” he says in a spoofed version of Joe’s voice. Joe looks at Tom as if he’d grown a third head who continues nonetheless. “First scenario….” he changes into a version of your voice. “No, cuz I think of you as a brother! Besides, I think your roommate is much more handsome and-” “Okay, okay, I get it!” Joe lets out an exasperated sigh. Tom raises his brows and looks down. “Okay, second scenario- (y/n) says yes and you two date, fuck, marry, live happily ever after, so mote it be, blah blah blah.”

Joe pinches his nose and sighs. “Please, be serious.” he groans. Tom claps his hands together again and leans forward toward Joe, brows tightly knitted together. “Look, you love (y/n), right?”

Joe smiles to himself.

“More than I’d like to admit.” “You want to be more than friends?” “Well, yeah, but-”

“Has (y/n) ever left you for dumb shit before?”

“Well, no, but I-”

“Do you value your friendship more than a hypothetical relationship?”

“Of course I do! But I-”

“Worst case scenario is that (y/n) rejects you and you still remain friends. My point is, there’s nothing to lose! So please do yourself and (y/n) a favor and do it before we graduate next semester.”

Joe weighs his options further. Though he doesn’t want to admit it, Tom’s is right. He just nods, thanks Tom for his time and goes to grab your clothes and a movie. Once he comes back he finds you curled up on the couch texting. You look up at him, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his stomach into loops.

“I was beginning to think you passed out on me.” you tell him. A blush creeps onto his lips. He presses his lips together and hands you your clothes. Come on, just ask already he wills himself. Still he doesn’t. You notice his hesitation and get up to grab your clothes from him. “Everything okay, Joe? You seem tense all of a sudden.” Say something!

“Uh- yeah, I’m good. Just… stressed about the audition I guess?” you let out a breath in amusement at his anxiety. It’s just like him to worry about an audition, even one you know he’ll land. “You’re gonna be great Joe- look at the acting gigs you’ve had, even when you were a kid!” you lay a hand on his arm, and his anxieties melt away. He doesn’t understand it- You have this ability to both make him weak in the knees, yet feel completely at peace all the time.

“Thanks, (y/n). You will too.” he says to you, his normal demeanor returning. You give him a quick hug and he reciprocates happily. As you part, you let out a yawn. Looking down at your phone, you realize how late it is. 3:27 AM

“I think we should get some sleep before tomorrow, eh? Thanks for helping me out.” you say, sleep already creeping into your voice. “No worries, what are friends for?” you nod and go into the bathroom to change into your extra clothes. Joe watches you leave for a moment before returning to his room. Once you change, you come into his room and settle in the bed beside him as you normally do when you stay over. Swiftly, your tiredness overtakes you and you fall asleep.

The next morning, you wake up before Joe, who is out like a light next to you. You smile at him, watching his chest rise and fall. After a moment, you creep out of bed, quietly gather your things, and head out the door and go back to your apartment. Once there, you begin rehearsing everything Joe helped you with last night. Luckily, your flatmate had already left for work, so you could sing loudly. You practice some of your dancing and manage to get to a place where you’re comfortable with the movements and have memorized your song. Looking at the clock, you realize you need to get to the arts building in about 2 hours. You figure that’s enough time to get a shower in and make yourself half-decent.

7:30 hits and you are waiting anxiously outside the door of the theater, resume held tightly under your arm. Most of your friends are auditioning the next day, so you are stuck with several people you don’t know well. You go over the choreography to your song mentally, taking deep breaths in the process. You get a text before you go in from Joe. You open your flip phone and look at the message. [Joe]

Hey! You’re going to do great tonight! Break a leg :) I’ll pick you up after if you want.

You smile down at your phone and reply back.

Sounds good! I’ll text you when I’m out. I’m thinkin fast food honestly.

Soon after you get a reply.

[Joe]

Sounds good. See you then!

You place your phone back into your pocket and continue going over your audition material. A few names are called before you. You grow fidgety with excitement as your name gets closer and closer.

“Next is Whimic. (l/n), you’re on standby.” the girl bringing people back calls out. You get up and move to the lobby. As people come out, you spot one of your friends finally. You couldn’t mistake that grunge-y girl if you tried. “Nicole! Hey! How was it?” you trot up to her giddily. Nicole smiles at you and gives you a hug. “Hey, honey. It was okay. Be prepared to do some weird shit after your song, though. I had to spell my name as if I was having an orgasm.” she snorts. You laugh as well.

“Yikes, alright, I’ll keep my mind open, I suppose. What role are you going for?”

“Hopefully Magenta, but we’ll see what happens. I gotta head out, though. Meg is gonna be pissed if I don’t get back in time for date night.” You chuckle and give her one more hug. “No worries! Fingers crossed for ya!” you separate and Nicole walks away. “You too, babe!” she calls back. Soon after, your name is called to come in. You follow the person that called you into the house and greet the director, tech assistant, and music director with a smile. You set your resume and head shot down on the table and go to the accompanist. You show them where you’re starting on the sheet music you hand them and then move to center stage. Once there you turn around, you take a deep breath in and out and begin your slate.

“Hello, my name is (f/n) (l/n), and I will be singing “Big Spender” by Shirly Bassey” the accompanist comes in with your music. Surprisingly, you are able to move in time, despite how nervous you are. Still you push through, and as the first few bars of singing come in, your anxieties begin to melt away. The stage is your home and you feel as if you’re the only one in the theater. You move around the stage with a newfound confidence as the director scribbles down some notes. As you finish the song you strut back downstage. “Hey, big spender” you jut your hips in time with the pianist.

“Spend, a little time, with me.” you move your hips to the end of the song, finishing with a wink and turning on your foot to walk back upstage. As the song finishes, you turn back around and bow your head. “Thank you.” you project. The director smiles at you and the three members all usher a thank you to you as well.

“Before you go,” the director calls to you as you grab your music from the accompanist. “Do you mind just screaming at the top of your lungs for us?”

You are slightly taken aback by the request, but you understand it is likely for the show.

“Uh- yeah sure.” you offer. The director nods and sits back.

“Whenever your ready.”

You take a deep breath and let out the loudest scream you could. It bounces off the back of the theater’s walls and almost pierces your own years. Though, the three audience members seem completely unfazed. “Thank you. That will be all.” they say.

“Thank you for your time.” you bow your head and leave.

Once outside, you text Joe that you’ve finished your audition. He texts back an ‘Okay!’ and pulls up not long after. You hop into the car, giving him a side-hug.

“How was it?” he asks you excitedly.

“Really good, actually! Thanks so much for making me audition, honestly.” A wide smile plasters itself onto his face. “I TOLD you! Now let’s get something to eat! I’m starving!” he turns on the radio for you, letting you choose whatever station you want. You flip to an oldies channel and “Bohemian Rhapsody�� plays in the middle of Brian’s first solo. You both mimic the guitar sounds, giggling the whole time.

“You know, this is the first song I ever downloaded on Napster.” he says, turning down the volume to speak.

“You CRIMINAL!” you retort jokingly. He laughs at your remark and gives you a small shove. He turns the music back up, and you both come back in with the operatic section- terribly out of key, as one does. You lean over onto his shoulder as he drives, sending electricity through his body. He melts at your touch, though you don’t notice, still singing dramatically.

You both pull up to the fast food joint and head in. You order your food and sit down, chatting about the audition.

“Did they make you do anything weird?” he asks you.

“It wasn’t the worst, I just had to scream at the top of my lungs.” you shrug. “I’ll make sure I keep that in mind.” he giggles. You continue to tell him about what went on, Nicole’s story, and Joe listened closely the whole time. Watching you speak so animatedly is something he loves most about you. In truth, you can likely turn the most boring lecture into the most interesting for him, so long as you are excited about the topic.

Suddenly, your buzzer goes off to grab your dinner. You both go up together, grabbing your trays and drinks. As you sit back down, Joe’s phone rings.

“Hello?” he answers. “Hey, Joe! You have a minute?” his agent chirps through the phone.

“Uh- yeah, what’s up?” He looks at you nervously. You cock a brow at him and he mouths the word “Agent” to you. You nod and let him continue.

“We have a movie offer for you, but you need to take the next few months off to film if that’s okay!”

Joe’s heart falls a moment upon hearing that. This offer will help him further his acting career, but that would mean he wouldn’t be able to do Rocky Horror, assuming he gets in, which you assured him over and over that he would.

“Uh- I’m not able to check my planner at the moment. Am I able to call you back?” You both exchange gazes at each other as you take a sip of your drink.

“No problem, but the sooner the better! Talk to you soon!”

“Yeah… Talk to you soon.” Joe hangs up the phone and slips it back into his pocket, sighing. “What’s up, Joe?” you ask him. He looks at you, eyes full of guilt.

“So… That was my agent.” he starts out.

“Uh-huh?” “And they’re offering me a TV deal.” Your eyes light up. “That’s amazing Joe! Are you going to take it?”

His grimaces at you, causing the light to fade from your sunny demeanor.

“Well, if I do it means I can’t do the show, so I can’t do the show- let alone audition.” His heart breaks at the expression this induces from you.

“I- don’t have to take it, though! I’d love to do the show.” he rambles. You shake your head and take his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The action soothes his surging mind slightly.

“You should take it, Joe. You want to do film more, anyway.” you assure him, though, Joe catches your voice faltering a bit. He bites his lip anxiously.

“I’ll…. I’ll think about it.” You nod at him with an almost unreadable expression. He can’t seem to figure out where your head's at, but, when he asks you, you tell him you just want to see him happy. You both continue eating, changing the subject to Joe’s relief and are back to your typical silly antics. After dinner, he drops you off at your flat, waiting until you’re inside before driving back to his place.

Once home, Joe drops his keys into the bowl aside the door and slumps down on the couch. The only sound is the whirring of the AC and the incessant clicking of Tom’s keyboard as he works furiously on an essay due at midnight at the kitchen counter in an otherwise silent flat. After a few moments, Joe looks up at him and sighs exasperatedly before going into his room. He shuts the door and changes into some fresh boxers and a white t-shirt to relax in. However, that’s the last thing he can do right now. Staring at the phone in his hand, he continues weighing his options in terms of the deal. He gets up and paces back and forth, trying to come to some conclusion. He knows He’d feel incredibly guilty if he didn’t audition tomorrow, but he knows you would too if he didn’t because of you. Finally, he huffs and opens up his phone to make the call.

+++

“Joe! You’re gonna do great!” You assure him, helping him pull his luggage out of the trunk of your car. Joe pulls his other suitcase out and sets it down, letting out a breath as he does. You two are very early for his flight to New Hampshire to film The Hallow- nearly two hours before takeoff, but that’s LAX for you.

“I know, but I’m going to miss you.” he says with a sad smile. You look at him with a sympathetic expression on your face. You touch his arm gingerly, and Joe bites the inside of his cheek. It’s your softest touches and send Joe on high alert.

“I’m gonna miss you too, but, hey! Call me or text me when you can- oh! And I have something for you.” Joe’s eyes widen in shock.

Did you just confess?

“You- you do?” he says hesitantly. You chuckle at his words.

“Course I do! You think I’m going to send my best friend away without an early birthday gift since he’ll be gone? It’s in the back. I’ll grab it.” Joe snaps out of his trance. “O- Oh.” he deflates as you root around in your backseat. Under your coat, which you threw on top to hide the gift, is a small, green bag with ruffled paper in it. You bring it around back to Joe and hand it to him.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” he murmurs, thumbing over the colored bag. You grin at him and urge him to open it, giggling excitedly. Inside is a little white box with a locket inside with a shrunken down picture of you two from a Halloween party. You’re dressed as a dinosaur and Joe is in a makeshift Tim Murphey outfit. Joe is screaming as the dinosaur head on your costume “chomps” down on him. “It’s nothing much, but that way you have me wherever you go.” you tell him somewhat bashfully. Joe stares down at the photo, mouth slightly open.

“Thank you…” he finally says, though, his tone is more disappointed.

“Do you… not like it?” you ask him. His gaze snaps back at you, brows raised. “No- I do! I really do. Oh my god, (y/n) I love it! I just- No, it’s perfect. Thank you so much!” he wraps you in a big hug, squeezing you. Once you part you help him put it on, even if he will have to take it back off for security.

“Text me when you land, okay? Wanna make sure you get there safely!” you tell him. He nods, not trusting his tone anymore as a lump forms in his throat. “I will.” he pulls you into one more hug, this one longer than before. His eyes grow slightly misty as he pulls away and grabs his luggage to go into the terminal. “Thank you again for dropping me off, by the way.” “No problem! Now go catch your flight, dork!” you laugh. He nods with a smile before turning on his heel and heading in.

The following weeks, you two text nonstop, wracking up minutes like there’s no tomorrow. You tell him excitedly on the night the cast list comes out that you’ve been cast as a Transylvanian.

“That’s awesome! I told you you’d get in, didn’t I?” he tells you ecstatically on the other line. You grin at his enthusiasm.

“Nicole got in too! She’s going to play Magenta!” “She’s going to do great, but I think you may steal the show.” Joe chuckles. You scoff at him before following in his laughter. As the laughing dies down, there is a moment of silence between you two.

“Will you be back in time to see it?” you ask him. Joe thinks for a minute and checks the calendar.

“The premier is the 23rd of October… Opening night is, what, the 29th? Go through Halloween?” “Yessir.” you say. “Uhhh, I should be able to get back before then, depending on if they need me for press, but they probably won’t!” You practically squeal through the phone. “I’m so excited to see you again!” Joe bites back a smile, looking down at the floor.

“Me too, (y/n).”

“Please just don’t make fun of me onstage.” you joke. Joe scoffs at you. “Oh, have SOME faith in me! I’m not gonna make fun of you… much.” he laughs. “I gotta head to bed, though. They want me onset by 6 tomorrow morning.” You make a mock barf noise through the phone, making Joe laugh again. “I couldn’t agree more.” he snorts. “I’ll talk to you later then, movie star.”

“You too.”

“Goodnight. Love ya.”

Joe sighs happily. “Love you too.” The days crawl by without you. Joe finds the thing he looks forward to most is getting to text or call you when he can- not that shooting The Hallow isn’t fun- He loves everyone in the cast so much. He just misses you. He finds himself staring at the picture in the locket more than usual. His cast mates have teased him about it, which he brushes off playfully. They say he’s so lucky to have “a partner that cares enough to send something like that.”

“O- Oh we’re not- No we’re just friends.” he stammers, a rosy color dusting his cheeks.

“Really? The way you look at the locket made it seem like you two were a thing.”

He shakes his head rapidly. He knows you would never feel the same, though. He’s gone way too often for you two to be an item. Not to mention you’ve seen him at his absolutely worst, and he values being your friend more than anything else. But one can’t help but think…

+++

As the opening night creeps up, hell week commences, meaning the stress is up as everyone scrambles for last minute, tech, blocking, and costuming. After a particularly long rehearsal you swing by Nicole’s place to watch the newly released The Hallow to decompress. The whole time, you are at the edge of your seat, watching Joe’s character with much intensity every time he comes on screen. As the credits roll through, you get up to help Nicole wash the popcorn bowls you two used.

“I think it needed more gore.” she says. “Nikki, it was fine! You’re such a horror snob!” you snort. Nicole shoves you playfully.

“Would you have me any other way?” she cocks a brow at you, opening her arms out.

“Shut up.” You spray her with sink water, earning a yelp from her. She laughs and squeezes the sponge, water hitting your upper body.

“Oh- Hey, is Joe gonna be back for the show?” she asks, coming down from her laughing fit. “I think so. He said it may not be until closing night, though.” you replies. She hums.

“Hope so! I bet he’s excited to see you, especially with how you open the show.” she waggles her eyebrows at you. You look at her confused.

“Whaddaya mean?” you say, finishing up drying a bowl and placing it back in the cabinet. Nicole turns toward you and leans on the counter.

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’? He’s TOTALLY into you.”

“He… is?” Nicole scoffs at you. “Honey, he’s really not that subtle. He looks at you like how I look at a high-quality matte black lipstick!” she laughs. You smirk at her comparison. Though, looking back, you can’t help but realize she’s right.

“Maybe…”

+++

Opening night hits and only a few things go wrong- mostly sound issues, but they’ve since been fixed. By closing night, you have grown much more comfortable showing your body in front of people by this point- call it literal exposure therapy. Closing night feels bittersweet as usual as you put on the rest of your makeup backstage. Nicole is beside you, finishing up her smudged liner before turning to you.

“How do I look?” she asks, striking a pose and fluffing her kinked up hair. You smile at her and give a thumbs up.

“Meg is gonna go crazy over this look.” you say. Nicole gives a triumphant grin. She pulls down her collar to reveal a small purple mark at the base of her neck, admiring her girlfriend’s work in the mirror. “I sent her pics during tech week. She already has.” she smirks. You roll your eyes at her, chuckling. You go into a changing room to put on a suit that Joe had lent you for the show and hat over your costume.

In the house, Joe takes his seat close to the stage where Transylvanians are supposed to sit a row in front of him. He waits excitedly for people to come out. The director and assistant stage manager come out, going through rules and initiating the virgin games. Tonight, virgins are split into teams and had to pass a dildo between their knees to teammates. Joe finds himself laughing quietly at the struggle. The team that wins are all given packets of mayonnaise as a prize. They all go back to their seats. The stage manager puts a chair center stage, and the show is about to begin. The lights dim and you step onstage, a spotlight hitting you. There are “whoops” and “hollers” by your friends in the audience. Joe smiles at you, even though you can’t see him with the light in your face. He can’t help but feel weirdly...warm inside seeing you in his suit. You pull it off very well, though. Not to mention how well you’re about to literally pull it off.

As the music begins playing, you begin to sway your hips. Already this catches Joe’s attention. You take off your hat and throw it to an audience member and run a hand sensually through your hair, really wanting to make a meal out of your last show. Slowly you untie the tie around your neck, rolling your head to one side. You slip off the fabric effortlessly and place it onto the chair. You face your back to the audience, still swaying as you unbutton your shirt. The fabric slipping down your arms at a pace that snails could beat. You sway your hips some more to the rhythm before you turn around, the only thing on your chest are nipple pasties shaped like the lips in the logo. Joe subconsciously licks his lips and throws his jacket over his lap, his cheeks growing more flushed than before. More “whoops” and “ow!”s emerge from your friends in the audience. Joe is paralyzed. He feels dirty watching this, but he can’t help but keep watching, eyeing your every movement. You shimmy out of your pants, revealing some rather skimpy black underwear and garters attached to fishnet stockings, and Joe clenches his jaw. As the song fades out, you strike a pose and blow a kiss to the audience. All your friends wolf whistle at you and yell your name. You bow and gather the clothes before you saunter backstage to put on a slightly less revealing set of lingerie on.

The show goes on without too many hiccups. You come back out with the rest of the Transylvanians for songs and dances. Once numbers finish, you find your spot in the audience. You all do your callbacks loudly. In quieter moments, you scan for Joe. Once you find him, you attempt to gauge his reaction. His gaze is fixed on the show, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. Huffing slightly, you turn back to the show. Obviously you aren’t going to get the reaction you’re looking for right now. However, Joe is not exactly paying too much attention to the show itself- the image of you strip teasing out of his suit is seared into his memory like a brand. Each time you’re onstage, though, his gaze is only on you. Your whole performance sends his mind reeling.

Intermission hits, and Joe immediately gets up to get some air, feeling slightly lightheaded by your performance. Meanwhile you sit backstage with the cast getting ready for the second act. People in the cast come up to you telling you how good you looked. You thank them profusely and then continue to make yourself as decent as one can for Rocky Horror at your table.

“You looked SO hot up there!” Nicole exclaims, hugging you from behind. You grin widely at her in the mirror and hug back. “Thanks, Nikki. You look hot all the time!” you giggle. She lets go of you and sits in the chair to your left. “I bet Joe had a nice view.” she says with a shit eating grin on her face. Your eyes widen and your face goes red. “Oh god… I forgot he was coming tonight!” you groan, throwing a hand to your face. Nicole chuckles and rubs your back.

“It’s okay, babe.”

Not long after, the ASM calls for you places, signalling that it is time for the second act. “Thank you places!” you and Nicole yell in unison before getting ready for the next scene.

The second act goes relatively smoothly, with the exception of someone forgetting their blocking. You take your spot back in the audience, feeling yourself easing back into the environment. At the end of the show, you all take your bows and the audience members either come up to meet the cast or head out, feeling… different. You and Nicole take a picture together and laugh with your group of friends who are gushing about how good both of you did. The post-show adrenaline courses through you as you laugh and gush back to them about preparing for that opening. You look away for a moment, gaze interlocking with a pair of familiar eyes, and you utter a gasp. Joe is smiling at you from across the house. Seeing that he has your attention, he begins to make his way over to you. You excuse yourself from your friends and shimmy your way through the crowd, meeting him halfway.

“Great job tonight!” he grins at you.

“Thanks, Joe! Oh my goodness I missed you!” you exclaim, throwing your hands around his neck. He hugs you back tightly.

Without thinking, and full of adrenaline from the show and seeing his face again, you kiss him on the lips. It catches him extremely off-guard. You pull back and step away from him bashfully upon realizing what you’ve done. Joe just stares at you like a deer in the headlights. You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously, unable to figure out his reaction.

“Sorry- uh. I- I don’t know what came over me.” you stammer out, your cheeks becoming extremely flushed. Suddenly a finger is under your chin and Joe is staring at you with the most loving, sappy gaze you’ve ever seen. “Can you uhm…. Do that again?” he begs. You lick your lips hesitantly and nod. You both lean in this time, Joe melting into you completely, forgetting there’s a crowd of people around you. He holds his arms securely around your back and yours make their way around his neck. You move your head slightly to deepen the kiss, earning a small groan from deep in Joe’s throat. Nicole gives you both a wolf whistle and you both pull back immediately into reality, faces beet red.

“Bout time!” she snorts at you two as she makes her way over.

“About time?” Joe echoes. You press your lips together shyly, and Nicole breaks into a laugh. “(y/n) would NOT stop talking about you the whole time you were gone, dude!”

“That so?” Joe looks at you with a newfound confidence. You grow warm under his gaze. Nicole snorts and nods.

“Seriously the amount of goo-goo eyes this one makes whenever you text is fucking RIDICULOUS.”

“Thank you, Nikki.” you say abruptly as you shoot Nicole a desperate plea to stop. She obliges, still choking back some laughter. “You coming to the cast party, by the way? It’s at my place this year. Joe can come too if he wants.” she winks.

You look at Joe and he looks back at you for the ultimate decision. You shrug and look back at Nicole. “I think I’m gonna skip out this time ‘round. Next show for sure.” you tell her. She feigns insult, though, she knows exactly what your plans are for tonight. “Whateverrrr,” she laughs. “You lovebirds have fun.” she says and gives you a hug. As you part you snake a hand around Joe’s middle, and he brings an arm over your shoulder.

“You too, Nikki.”

Nicole points a finger gun at you and walks off with Meg, leaving you and Joe together. “All the time, huh?” Joe smirks.

“Just help me grab my stuff.”

Taglist:

@littlemisscaptainfandom A/N: I hope you liked it, Caro! Thanks for requesting!!!

#ziggy writes #queenscoolcat #queen #queen x reader #queen imagines #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #bo rhap imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello x oc #joe mazzello imagines #borhap imagines #joe mazzello fic #borhap fic #queen fic

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bottled-bliss · 6 years ago

Text

AOP

This can be read as a kind of sequel to "Walking Back Home In The Mud" but it's fine on its own too. Enjoy! Or not, I can’t force you.

A peculiar smell drifts in through the open windows- dewberry. It’s sweet and light and totally out of place. She shouldn’t be able to smell it at all, not with the overpowering stench of fresh paint burning her nostrils. She hasn’t caught a sniff of it since Vermont, except maybe in some perfume shop at one point or another, but artificial smells are different. They don’t have the same time traveling abilities, the power of launching you back into your childhood bedroom like you never left. It makes her think of her mother, how much she misses her and how she’d love to have her here, to help with the alien being that she’s growing inside her, just under her heart.

“Frank,” she shouts and hears him promptly stomp down the stairs. “Can you smell that?”

“Can’t smell anything but the goddamn paint. I left the windows open, hope it helps,” he grumbles. “What is it? Something burning?”

“No, nothing like that.” She eases herself down onto the couch and twists just enough to stretch her legs on it as well. Movement is becoming increasingly difficult these days, as her belly keeps expanding. “Maybe I imagined it,” she shrugs.

“Like the garlic bread last week?” Frank chuckles. He gently grips her ankles, lifts up her legs and sits down beside her, as he grabs a throw pillow to place on his lap, under her feet. “Gotta keep them elevated,” he reminds her and starts giving her feet a much needed massage, smiling when she lets out a moan. He looks a bit silly with the mint green smudges on his face, on his clothes -all over him actually. Silly and laid-back and gorgeous. The past month has taught her she shouldn’t even try to bend forward, but if she could, she would be kissing him right now.

“You don’t know how good this feels,” Karen purrs before getting down to business. “So, are you finished painting the nursery? I want to have the crib set up by the end of the week. The changing table too and it wouldn’t hurt to have some drawers in there and-”

“Slow down,” Frank says, his thumb kneading the arch of her left foot as she wiggles her toes. “I’ll set up everything, stop being so stressed. You didn’t take the week off so you could nag me the whole time, did you?”

Karen gives him a snort full of disapproval. “I don’t nag.”

He raises one eyebrow and cocks his head, lips curling into an amused smile. “Baby, you nag.”

She kicks his hand away playfully while trying to hide her own smile. “If I do, it’s because this little hell spawn of yours is giving me a hard time,” she huffs and places a protective hand on her belly. “Would it kill you to sit still for one moment?” she addresses the baby and then turns to Frank. “I could swear it already hates me.”

“Might be because you’re still calling it ‘it’,” he says, running his palm over her leg.

“It’s mine, I’ll call it what I like,” she tells him.

Frank leans to the side, lowering his head towards her stomach and rubbing his cheek against it. “What are you doing in there that’s got her so mad, kid?” he says in a low voice, like he and the baby are having a private conversation, and then jolts up, surprised. “Christ, that was one mean kick!”

“No kidding.” Karen exhales slowly. “I’ve developed this theory that the baby is actually trying to kick its way out of me. And at this rate, it will probably succeed.”

He places a tender hand over hers, worry obvious in his eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really, but I’m not enjoying it either.” She hisses as the imprint of a tiny foot appears, pushing against the stretched flesh of her belly. She’s about to start telling the kid off, when she notices Frank’s hypnotized stare. Without saying a word, she takes his hand and presses it down, hoping her estimation of the baby’s next target is correct. “There,” she says when the kick lands. “You felt that, right?”

“Yeah,” he gives her a teary-eyed look. “Yeah, I felt it.”

Her fingers wrap around his in an affectionate squeeze as he pretends to examine the living room walls. “You’ve already painted those,” Karen remarks kindly.

Not bothering to deny he got caught, Frank lets out a quiet, soft laugh. “Can’t hide from you, can I?” He continues rubbing her leg lazily, his eyes rolling to the side as he tries either to recall something or avoid her gaze.

“Frank.”

“Hmm?”

“What did you do?”

When he turns to her, he’s holding a breath that he lets out slowly, very slowly, buying time for himself. “What makes you think I did anything?” he says finally. It’s just a game they play. He likes to tease her but he always spills the beans without much effort from her part. Karen’s brow shoots up and he knows that he shouldn’t drag it out this time. “I may or may not have called your doctor while you were in the bathroom earlier.”

“Frank, come on,” she whines. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“And it will be, for you,” he assures her. Her disbelieving glare makes him want to laugh, but he manages to stifle it. “You don’t trust me to keep my mouth shut? I will, cross my heart and all that.”

Karen moves forward with a grunt and slaps his arm. “Why couldn’t you wait?”

“Because I hate surprises, you know,” he says. “And I was thinking about that form you showed me the other day. Child’s name goes on top. We haven’t even started talking about names yet. What are we going to tell the notary public? Give us a week to decide?”

“I have half a mind to call it Matthew even if it’s a girl, just to annoy you,” she grumbles and Frank roars with laughter.

“Don’t you dare.” He grabs her hand and brings it to his lips.

“Matthew David has a nice ring to it too,” she smirks.

“You wouldn’t be that cruel to the father of your child,” he says before kissing her palm and placing it on his cheek. “I’ll be good from now on, I swear.”

The baby delivers a little pop of a kick, as though asking her to take pity on daddy, and Karen rubs the stubbly cheek under her palm. “I could do worse but I’m going to let this one slide. It seems that you two are teaming up against me.”

“It,” he stresses the word, “knows what’s right.”

“Oh, getting cocky, are we?” She leans closer to her belly and casts him a smile that is all threat, as she whispers to the baby. “Are you comfortable in there, Matthew David?” Frank raises his hands in surrender and the baby stays suspiciously still. She counts that as a win. “Both are good names though.”

“No way in hell,” he laughs again. “I can’t handle more than one David and one Matthew in our life. We’re covered on that front.”

“So it’s a boy,” Karen exclaims. She expected to be a bit disappointed at finding out now instead of later, but she really isn’t. A little nervous, maybe, because she doesn’t know the first thing about raising a boy. But also excited.

“Didn’t say that,” Frank cuts her excitement short.

“A girl?” She realizes she doesn’t know the first thing about raising a girl either. What was she thinking, that she would magically have all the insight necessary to bring up a person, simply because they happened to be of the same gender? Frank presses his lips together in response, refusing to give up the secret. “That’s not fair,” Karen frowns.

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” he quirks an eyebrow. “If you’ve changed your mind…”

“I haven’t,” says Karen and turns her head away, pouting in mock annoyance.

“Okay then.”

Placing an arm behind her knees, Frank lifts up her legs and gets up, setting the pillow on a different angle, making sure the position is up to his standards before gently laying her feet on it. As he stands there rubbing the back of his neck, Karen follows his gaze across the room, to the kitchen table where the printed AOP form lies. She wonders if the same thing that bothers her, bothers him too. “Have you thought of any names?” she asks.

“Don’t expect anything creative from me,” he chuckles, distracted momentarily. “Jane and John are the first names that came to mind.”

“Jane Castiglione,” she says, inclining her head to the side as though seriously considering it. “It doesn’t sound bad.”

“It sounds terrible. Same goes for John Castiglione,” he replies as he bends down to kiss her forehead. “We could go with Penelope, if it’s a girl. If you…”

Karen reaches up to stroke his cheek. “It’s very sweet of you to suggest it, but as much as I loved my mom, I don’t want to force that name on a child. It’s not very… us, don’t you think?” Her eyes widen, sparkling with an idea. “What about your mom’s name?”

“Louisa? You like that?”

Yes, she really does and the more she thinks about it, the more fitting it seems. “Louisa Castiglione. Yeah, I like it. Do you? Or is it too much like…”

“A little bit,” Frank admits with a tightness in his tone. “We have time to come up with something. No rush.”

Karen nods. “And if it’s a boy?”

He hesitates for a split second, maybe even less than that, looking confused, which tells Karen a lot more than he’d planned. “Uh, I don’t know,” he replies. “We agree that both Paxton and Mario are shit names, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” A bright smile starts forming on her lips, as something like joy stirs in her stomach, prompting the baby to begin moving again as well. Joy, she thinks and puts the name down in the mental list of potential names for their daughter. “But we won’t be needing any boys’ names, I take it?”

Frank throws his hands up and then cradles her face in them, leaning in to kiss her. “How the hell do you do that?”

“You’re too easy to read, Castle,” Karen giggles and throws her arm over the back of the couch, slanting backwards. “A little girl, huh?”

“Yeah,” he beams at her, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I hope she likes green because that room isn’t getting repainted for a long time.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again, if she doesn’t like it,” Frank tells her, eyes narrowed with a smile.

Great, Karen thinks, the kid isn’t even out yet and he’s already set on spoiling her. “Jane Castiglione is really not a bad name.” Frank pulls a seriously displeased face. “Is it the Castiglione part that bothers you?”

“No, why would it? I’ll sign the paper as Pete Castiglione and I’ll be proud to do it. But it bothers you.”

“Just a tiny little bit,” she confesses.

“It’s just a name, Karen.” He shrugs and his eyes gleam with mischief. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“You know, continuing to quote Shakespeare in spite of me asking you to stop, is grounds for divorce,” Karen says, tapping her finger on the couch while holding his gaze.

“You’ll have to marry me before you can file for divorce,” he chuckles as he makes his way towards the stairs, probably going to add some finishing touches to the nursery before jumping in the shower.

“Well, you haven’t asked me yet.”

Frank freezes in his tracks and for a moment, Karen considers if that’s too much pressure for him. There’s no reason why it should be; they’ve been living together for some time, they’re expecting a baby, for god’s sake, and while she doesn’t need a ring on her finger to feel secure in her relationship, she’s going to smack him if he freaks out on her. When he turns around to face her, his features are soft and calm and Karen is glad that she doesn’t have to resort to violence, especially because she’d have to get up to do it. “I will,” he tells her simply and goes off to finish his chores.

Frank planted two large rose bushes in the flower beds of their front yard just last week, but despite their size, they haven’t made their presence known until now, as a mild breeze carries their scent inside the house and spreads it around the living room. Karen inhales deeply, not letting the smell drag her back to the past, but have her glimpse into the future instead. She knows enough about genetics to understand the chances of the kid looking like her are slim, but she’s perfectly okay with that. The only flaw she can imagine in a child that looks like Frank is that she’ll have two sets of those dark, puppy eyes melting her heart. “I won’t allow you to be spoiled, you hear me?” she speaks softly, rubbing her belly. ‘Your father will be a constant foil to my plans, but you’re not going to become some obnoxious brat that nobody likes. And you’d better love mint green, we’re done with painting for at least five years. Well, maybe if you’d like a bit of yellow, I’d consider it. I don’t know, stop being so spoiled already,” she smiles as her daughter finally settles down to sleep.

AO3

#a thing I wrote #kastle #kastle ff #kastle fic #basically just Frank and Karen being domestic and cute #nothing but pointless fluff

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keelywolfe · 6 years ago

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FIC: Any Other Tuesday (ch2, baon)

Summary: It started the same as any other Tuesday

Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

A bus ride, a short walk, and a bowl of spinach dip later, and they were settled in front of the television, ready to be awed by one of the worst movies ever made. That was fine by Jeff; being in Edge and Stretch’s house was frankly nicer than being in his own. Not that his roommates were bad guys, but they were roommates, not really friends, and his own small room became claustrophobic if he spent too much time in it.

They ended up sitting on the sofa together, the dip on the end table where Jeff could toss a chip in from time to time. Stretch was too tall to sprawl out across the cushions if someone was already sitting on it, so he tended to sort of curl up and lay with his head on whoever’s lap was in his way. He did the same thing no matter who it was; Jeff, Edge and his brother, although there was an obvious difference in the level of sprawl and the amount of handsyness involved.

Jeff figured it was just a Stretch thing, but he kinda wondered what Edge thought about it, given his paranoia about Humans getting touchy-feely with Stretch. The past few visits Edge hadn’t given them so much as a sideways glance, so Jeff figured he’d made it on the short list. Edge wasn’t his friend like Stretch was, they didn’t text or send snapchats, didn’t meet up for coffee or weird experiments. He was still a friend and that was Jeff’s short list.

So yeah, sitting on the sofa earned a Stretch in the lap. Not that he couldn’t sit in one of the armchairs, he could, but, eh, this was obviously something Stretch preferred and he was Jeff’s friend. Who was he to deny something so easy when it made him happy?

The only problem he ran into was where to put his hands. On the skull seemed weirdly intimate, but they didn’t fit on his own lap. In the end, he settled one hand on Stretch’s side and the other on the armrest. Not that Stretch seemed to care; he was sleeping before the movie got through the opening credits. It made Jeff think maybe he wasn’t being as honest about how he was feeling as he could be.

Well, if a nap would do him good, then Jeff was fine with playing the role of pillow.

He kept as still as he could, watching the movie while Stretch slept, sometimes glancing down at him. It was sort of interesting, honestly. Skeleton Monster, not skeleton and it struck him again how little they looked like a human corpse or a lab display. For one, he was breathing, his chest rising and falling even without lungs to fill. His joints were very faintly tinted orange, and he twitched a little in his sleep, murmuring nonsensically. Skeleton Monsters looked alive and when he was awake, Stretch was full of grins and snark, dragging everyone in to the gravity well of his exuberance.

How did some Humans look at Monsters and see something to hate? Jeff didn’t understand it.

And hey, maybe it was because he was Human, but he wasn’t fucking sorry that the guy who’d attacked Stretch on the bus was dead. Hasta la vista, baby.

The movie was almost over when the front door opened with a jangle of keys. Stretch stirred, sitting up with a yawn as Edge came in, mumbling out, “hey, babe.”

“Hello, you two,” Edge said easily, unsurprised at the scene before him, which meant Stretch had managed to text him at some point before he spent time drooling on Jeff’s pant leg.

Edge walked over, leaning down to give Stretch a kiss and Jeff kept his eyes pointedly on the tv. Normally, his little shipper heart would be throwing off sparkly joy to see his favorite couple so happy together but lately, it brought up an ache. too. He wanted to be the one giving those welcoming kisses to his lover or better yet, getting them as he came home from his new job.

That kiss lasted a little too long for a friendly greeting, and Jeff finally coughed pointedly. It was probably a sign that he really was friends with Edge that it only got him an amused glance and not a glare.

Edge flicked a look at the television. “I hope that movie is nearly over. Torture after a full day at work is against the Geneva convention.”

From behind him came a familiar voice “You guys want to get out of here with your lovey dovey or should I stay on the porch?”

Antwan.

Jeff leaned enough to look around Edge and saw him. He was standing in the open doorway, leaning against the jamb. Still dressed in his work clothes, his tie loosened, and the top button undone on his shirt. It was a good look on him, clean-cut and a little mussed and, honestly, he looked good enough to eat, no ketchup required. His slow smile when he saw Jeff only made a flutter of warmth leap in his chest.

He wandered over, almost mimicking Edge as he leaned down to give Jeff a warm, deep kiss. By the end of it, they probably deserved a throat clearing of their own, but hell with it. Jeff wasn’t about to give this up too quickly.

“Hey, pretty,” Antwan pulled back, breathed it close to his ear and Jeff shivered. Not exactly the afternoon kiss of his dreams but it was damn close.

“If you’re quite finished.”

Edge stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching them with a brow bone raised while Stretch was sprawled on the other side of the sofa, leaning against the arm with his chin propped on his updrawn knees as he stared. His eye lights looked like little hearts, soft and warm.

“Yeah, yeah, quit bitching. And you, stop that,” Antwan gave Stretch a gentle poke as he walked past him. “We need to talk shop a little longer, finish your movie and we’ll get dinner started.”

“that better not mean you’re cooking, antwan,” Stretch called after them as they walked to the kitchen. “i wanna actually be able to eat the food, not bury it to ease its suffering.”

Antwan didn’t even look behind him as he offered an upraised middle finger in their direction and Stretch grinned, leaning in confidingly to Jeff. “he secretly loves me.”

It was meant as a joke. Stretch couldn’t read the doubts that were engraved in his thoughts, and it shouldn’t hurt to hear that, it shouldn’t. Instead he looked away, towards the shelves that lined one of the walls.

“Did Edge get some new action figures?” Jeff asked, both eager to change the subject and honestly curious.

“hmm? oh, yeah, but don’t ask me what the hell they are,” Stretch rolled to his feet and wandered over to the shelves. “he lives for ebay, finds all kinds of weird shit, gets lot jobs and rebuilds ‘em.”

“He does a good job.” Each figure was meticulously placed on the shelf, some on risers and others lined up around them. Jeff wasn’t sure of the organization, but he had no doubt that Edge planned it as obsessively as he did everything else. The rhyme and reason surely made sense to him, despite the fact that GI Joes were placed next to She-Ra, smaller Lego sets interspersed between them.

Jeff admired the display, mentally cataloging the different series and wondering at the value. Even out of the package, they were probably worth a decent amount, and whatever repairs he did sure as hell didn’t show.

One of them caught his eye, an Optimus Prime figure that towered a head above the others. The gun in his hand was loose and about to fall, and Jeff reached out to fix it before it could escape and get lost in the carpet. His nudge turned out a little too hard, and the Transformer wobbled dangerously, falling into a grim-faced He-Man and they could only watch in frozen horror as the chain reaction ran through the entire shelf, a domino massacre of action figures that only ended when the last figure toppled, piled on the shelf with its fallen brethren.

The silence was broken only by the tinny soundtrack of the ending movie coming from the television.

“oh,” Stretch said, blankly. He reached out weakly, his hand hovering over the pile, trying and failing to decide which to start with. “well. i mean. i guess that could’ve been worse?”

As if only waiting for a prompt from the universe, the shelf collapsed, falling into the one beneath it and sending them both to the floor. Action figures scattered, an explosion of plastic and Jeff could only watch the destruction in mortification

Slowly, he leaned down and picked up the Optimus, the one who had started the entire catastrophe. The gun was still firmly in his hand, it was only a shame that the arm was no longer attached to the body.

"What was that?" The kitchen door swung open, Edge and Antwan stepping out. Two steps into the living room, Edge stopped mid-stride, his eye lights widening as he took in the carnage of his beloved display.

"babe!" Stretch said, brightly and a little panicked as he whirled around, wringing his hands. "um, sorry, i...uh...i bumped into the shelf and knocked it over. kinda set off a chain reaction there, really, we should complain to the manufacturer, there’s no way it should have fallen that easily, am i right? probably have a lawsuit on our hands, maybe, good thing you’re here, antwan, bet you know how to make ikea pay--”

Jeff could feel sweat beading on his forehead, biting his lip as he tried to figure out what to say. He felt awful, bordering on nauseous and, fuck, he couldn’t let Stretch take the blame for his stupid mistake. On one hand, Edge probably wouldn’t get as angry with Stretch, but on the other. he shouldn’t get angry with Stretch at all, he didn’t do anything. He needed to speak up, say something but the words were stuck, clogged up in the tightness of his throat.

"It's all right," Edge said, gently interrupting Stretch’s rambling. The gentleness in his voice shouldn’t be a surprise, Jeff knew him better than that, and still. He couldn’t help cringing a little when Edge’s eye lights flicked to him, his words obviously meant for them both. "There was no harm done. They're action figures, they were made to be played with, a little fall isn't going to damage them."

"nope, nothing broken at all!" Stretch chirped with almost desperate hope. Jeff couldn’t even agree, not with the evidence in his hands.

Edge only sighed and shook his head. "Which one broke?"

Meekly, Jeff held Optimus out and watched in misery as Edge's eye socket twitched visibly. He took it, turning it to inspect the damage.

"I'll find you another one," Jeff blurted. Even if he had to find another job, work nights for a while, he would. "I'm so sorry, I--"

Edge held up a hand and Jeff fumbled miserably to a stop. "I accept the apology, but it isn't broken. It looks like the screws were loose. This is an easy repair, it's all right, there’s no harm done."

“But the shelves—” Jeff started.

At that moment, the smoke alarm chose to join the chaos, blaring its alarm. Edge thrust the toy back into Jeff’s hands and dashed back into the kitchen, Antwan on his heels.

The world is turning against me, Jeff decided with almost giddy dismay. Wheee!

“huh.” Stretch stuck his hands in his pockets contemplatively while the fire alarm wailed in the back ground, mixing horribly with the eerie music still pouring from the tv. “this keeps getting better. c’mon, i need to see how this ride ends.”

Reluctantly, Jeff followed him into the kitchen. He was right, they needed to see this through to the bitter end. And anyway, misery loved company.

Moments later in the strange silence left by defused fire alarm, they stood in a circle around the charred remains on the kitchen island, an impromptu funeral for an unexpected demise.

Jeff wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be, but what it was right now was charcoal.

With two fingers, Stretch plucked a wooden spoon from the holder, gingerly poking the remnants. “hate to say it, babe, but i don’t think we have enough tabasco for this one.” He dropped the spoon and dusted off his hands, adding brightly. “how does everyone feel about chinese?”

Edge took a deep breath. "Right. Dinner out it is."

“Chinese will work,” Antwan said agreeably. “Not up to your standards, buddy, but sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team.”

Jeff only shuffled his feet, trying desperately to think of a way to beg off. His bank account had about twenty dollars in it until he got paid Friday and he couldn’t blow it all on dinner tonight.

Before he could think of a decent excuse, if there was one past the truth, Stretch slung an arm around his shoulders. “why don’t you two finish the funeral arrangements and we can clean up the living room.”

He tugged and Jeff followed, reluctantly, out of the kitchen. The action figure carnage was right where they’d left it, but before he could take a step towards it, Stretch leaned down, talking low, “i know what you were gonna say, okay, but please, we’ve got this. if you don’t let him feed you, he’ll be grouchy all night and i’ll have to deal with him and i kinda make a point of not dealing with him when he’s grouchy, and then i won’t be able to sleep tonight, and you wouldn’t do that to my health, would you?”

That was a very obvious ploy, so painfully blatant, and the hopefulness in Stretch’s face was all part of it, a very deliberate act, all of it. He knew that. So why the hell was Jeff so weak against it?

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jeff sighed.

“excellent!” Stretch said cheerily. “so let’s at least gather up the bits and bobs before we hit the town, right?” He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, with a furtive look at the kitchen door, “tell you the truth, i love restaurant chinese food more than what he makes. edge doesn’t add enough msg.” Stretch gave him a wink. “don’t ever tell him i said that. promise?”

“I promise,” Jeff said, hooking Stretch’s pinkie with his own and shaking solemnly, before he broke and grinned. Somehow, Stretch always made him feel better, even when he was stupid or broke. He’d pay him back someday, Jeff told himself fiercely. Pay him back for everything.

There were three hours left before things came crashing down, the fate poised above them ready to rip through his hopeful intentions the same as it did his skin, but Jeff didn’t know that. None of them did. Three hours, and right now Jeff was picking up action figures, laughing over them with nostalgia and wonder, carefully matching them to their toy axes and guns, and piling them together while Edge and Antwan disposed of the wreckage in the kitchen.

Chinese food did sound really good, he decided, and the company was better. It’d be fun and who knew, he could end up staying the night at Antwan’s, balancing his maybes for another night.

Better than the mac and cheese in his fridge, anyway, and soon they were all in Edge’s car, heading towards Ebott. And fate.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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sscamanderr · 7 years ago

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Red //Richard Winters x reader

Fem!Reader

Y/L/N = your last name.

Super long and self indulgent blabber, but enjoy it anyway. I’m way too late to this fandom.

Summary: Corporal Y/L/N is a translator for the U.S. army and is sent to Winters’ platoon for their mission to capture prisoners by Colonel Sink. Secret heart-eyes all the way of course.

The all-terrain military vehicle bounced with every little pebble it passed over. You sat in the back seat and held your pack between your feet, having to spread your legs like a man in order to sit comfortably. You’d gotten so used to lounging around as such that you thought you would never sit like a lady again. Another transport vehicle was not far behind, carrying in some replacement men to the battalion. Next to you sat a Lieutenant Jones; a clean-shaven young man with even less combat experience than yourself. Colonel Sink sat directly in front of you, his ears turning pink from the brisk wind that battered the car head-on.

“How are you faring, Corporal?” He asked suddenly, not bothering to turn his head to look directly at you. He instead found your gaze in the side mirror.

“Faring just fine, sir.” You raised your voice to answer over a burst of wind.

“And you, Lieutenant?” Sink asked. Jones replied the same.

“We should be arriving around fifteen-hundred hours. Do you have any remaining questions about your objectives, Lieutenant? Corporal?”

“None, sir.” You and Jones chorused.

“I know you’re competent, the both of you, but I must ask that you make your way directly to headquarters once you’re dropped off in Haguenau. There is no time to waste.”

“Of course, Colonel.” You smiled a little to yourself.

“There should be an escort waiting--Ah, here we are.” The colonel pointed in a short gesture towards a town now fully in view over the horizon. You could already hear the rumbling of tanks and motorcycles, and smell the smoke in the aftermath of bombings. You placed your cap on your head, adjusting the Intelligence insignia pinned on the brim. The vehicle slowed to a stop and the Colonel climbed out and opened the side door. You stepped out before Jones and hopped to the ground. You hefted your supplies onto your shoulders and saluted your superior officer.

“Good luck, Lieutenant Jones and Corporal Y/L/N. This mission is of vital importance to the army of the United States. Should your exploits be fruitful, consider yourself in our greatest debts.”

“Thank you very much, sir. Hopefully we will be seeing the end of this war very soon.” You tell him; this earns you a pleased nod from the colonel. Jones stood stiff-backed until Colonel Sink is out of view. You had began walking into the outpost, but turned around when you realized you were alone.

“Lieutenant,” You said, and Jones swiftly joined your side.

“So much for an escort, eh, Corporal?” Jones’ eyes drag over the men starting to notice your presence. You shrugged and joined in the columns of replacement, waving Jones after you. He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“If they know where to go, it’s good enough for me, sir.” You answered.

Lieutenant Jones and yourself weaved through the crowd, past a line of men waiting for showers, until you reached a building that had many officers entering and exiting.

“Must be it.” Jones commented. Jones entered the building with you in tow. It was clear the building was heavily fired upon like the rest of the town, for the furniture was overturned and half the windows were blown out. Both you and the lieutenant were greeted by a man lying on a couch, wrapped in a blanket, and looking rather miserable. He sat up as soon as he glanced at the Lieutenant markings on Jones’ helmet, but looked more surprised when he saw you standing beside him. The other few men in the room stood at attention.

“This the company C. P. for Easy?” You asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” The man on the couch said. You and Jones spared a quick glance, mutually relieved to have found your way.

“As you were,” Jones told the men, and they relaxed. “Lieutenant Jones seeking Captain Speirs, and Corporal Y/L/N seeking Captain Winters.”

“Speirs should be on his way, can’t say for Winters. Uh, why don’t you have a seat,”

You let your bag fall on the ground next to the couch, and you made yourself comfortable. Jones sat slowly as if expecting the captain you were looking to walk in any second. The man on the couch, who after you inquired said his name was Lipton, offered you both coffee. Jones refused, but you had to get your hands on a hot mug. You waited a short time, making conversation with Lipton and another man named Webster.

“Captain Speirs, sir,” Lipton suddenly stopped in the middle of your conversation, once more sitting up straight to address his commanding officer. You and Jones stood at attention. The man’s eyes were set on Lipton; they barely made a pass over you or Jones. “This is Lieutenant Jones, and Corp--”

The captain had no time for introductions. He ordered Lipton to find somewhere else to lay around and that was that. You raised your eyebrow at him, but quickly rested your expression when another captain entered the room. He stood out more than anyone else. Easily he was taller than the others and on top of that had bright red hair.

“Listen up,” The man started, glancing at the floor for a quick second. “Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners.”

This must be Winters. Sink had placed him in charge of the battalion and he was the one you were to report to once you arrived. Winters directed that 15 men were to be chosen for the patrol and started to compile a list of names with Captain Speirs. You waited patiently for Winters to finish, but you found your attention drawn to an approaching officer; Nixon was the name stitched into his jacket.

“Who are you?” Nixon asked, looking only at Jones. Of two things you noticed, Jones’ discomfort at the lack of formality and professionalism was the first. The second was that none of the men were particularly concerned that a lone woman stood in the room. You didn’t mind. Nixon hounded Jones with questions of his enlistment, graduation, and the works, finally dismissing Jones with an amused chuckle and a warning to ‘not get hurt’. You decided you liked him instantly.

“Sir, Corporal Y/L/N,” You spoke up finally, catching Nixon’s attention. His expression brightened a little, his interest piqued. “I have orders from Colonel Sink to accompany the men on this patrol.”

“Hold that thought, Corporal,” Nixon called Winters over, interrupting his exchange with Jones, who made a disappointed face at you as if you had caused the interruption. You held your arm in salute and Winters nodded in recognition. “Captain, this is the translator Colonel Sink mentioned in his memo a few days ago.”

Winters blinked once, but gave a small smile. “You’re here to help out with the interrogations,” He said.

“Yes, sir. Along with any collecting documents that may be of use-- letters and reports and what-not-- to get us across the river.” You add. Winters nodded to himself again.

“Speirs, talk to you in an hour?” Winters peered over his shoulder to confirm with the other captain before turning and walking out to exit. “Corporal, follow me.”

Captain Nixon had been waiting outside for Winters and yourself, joining on the other side of Winters. “You speak German pretty well, then?” He asked.

“Fluently, and with a perfect accent, sir.” You replied. Nixon raised his chin, impressed.

“Some of our men speak German as well and could be translator for this mission, but the colonel recommended you personally. What’d you do to earn that honor?” Nixon asked, a ghost of sarcasm lacing his words.

“Well, sir, I can speak and write in all languages relevant to the war, sir. Chinese, Japanese, French, and German. Italian too, but I just can’t get the accent right.”

Nixon gave a low whistle. Winters raised his eyebrows, turning his head to look directly at you. “How’d you learn all those languages at such a perfect place in our history?” Nixon asked.

You cracked a smile. “The key is to have a lot of free time, and a lot of favors owed to you at the local bookstore.” Winters and Nixon both chuckled at that.

“Colonel Sink noted that you would need a work area, so I arranged a desk at the officers’ headquarters. Not a lot of room, and you’ll be sharing with a few others including myself.” Winters informed.

“Any space is appreciated, sir.” You inclined your chin a little when Winters met your eye. He broke the eye contact rather deliberately, but you thought it nothing strange. Nixon cleared his throat and snuck behind Winters to place himself at your side now as the three of you walked.

“I couldn’t help but notice that Jones seemed a little resentful towards you. Any reason?”

“Besides that he outranks me as Lieutenant but I have the favor of the colonel? None I can think of, sir.” You smirked, but it fell again as you continued. “Truth is, sir, I applied for Lieutenant Jones’ position. I have more combat experience than he does, having been on the beach after D-Day and part of a squad during the first mission to Japan. It just wasn’t seen fit for me to have the rank because I’m not, er, perfect at following orders-- Sorry, sir, I’m spewing on and you probably have more important things to think about.”

“It’s not a bother, Corporal, really.” Winters said.

“Not perfect at following orders, you say?” Nixon continued. You tried to hide your embarrassment by pursing your lips together.

“I am not much of a follower, to be completely honest, sir,” You told him, lowering your voice. “I’m naturally a leader and I get a little ahead of myself. But you have to learn to follow if you ever want to lead.”

“Well put,” Winters stated. You were still embarrassed by how this first impression was turning out but you gave a little smile. Winters, yourself, and Nixon walked through a building whose doors were missing after being blown away by explosives. It was an apothecary at one point; it said so in faded lettering on the front window that was still miraculously intact. Men saluted the captains as they walked by and did not bother to hide their fascination by you being with them.

“Here we are, Corporal.” Winters allowed you to step into a tiny room that had three desks all huddled into a rectangle to fit in the room together. You placed the gear you didn’t need on one of the chairs and slung your rifle over your back. “Is it satisfactory for your needs?”

“Eh, I could work with it, sir.” You said in a serious tone, but Nixon’s grin made your facade falter and your own grin spread across your face.

“Glad you’ll be joining us, Y/L/N.” Nixon said, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

“Glad to be here and help end this war if I can, sir.” You met his hand between you and shook it. Winters did the same after you release Nixon’s hand and you smiled. Winters visibly swallowed and retracted his hand.

The three of you departed from the small room and back into the side street. A man rounded the corner and stopped when he spotted all of you. Captain Speirs, you recalled. He joined wordlessly, until Winters introduced him to you. He was short with you, clearly an intimidation tactic, but you decided you liked him possibly as quick as you decided you liked Nixon.

“There will be a briefing at seventeen-hundred. Back at C. P.. Until then, Corporal Y/L/N, you’re dismissed.”

“If I may have a last request, sir?” You straighten to stand at attention.

“What would that be?” Winters furrowed his brow.

“Lieutenant Jones will likely ask to join this patrol. He’s got no experience but he’s a good soldier with an even better mind as a tactician. I’m in no position to do so, but I believe I should ask you to give him a chance to prove himself.”

Nixon and Speirs both glanced at Winters from the corners of their eyes. Winters studied your face and nodded once. “I will consider it, Corporal.”

“Thank you, sir.” You salute him. When he salutes back, you depart from the men in favor of returning to C. P..

“Winters’ll give him a little hell just for you, Corporal!” Nixon called before you were out of earshot. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder, which Nixon met gladly.

Unbeknownst to you, Winters watched your retreating figure until you were out of his sight. Nixon clapped his friend on the back, earning a small jump and half-hearted glare from the captain.

“I hope she gets stuck with us for a while. She’s a perfect fit.” Nixon said. Winters raised an eyebrow at him.

“She doesn’t seem clueless,” Speirs chimed in with the closest thing to a compliment he could probably be capable of giving. Winters cleared his throat purposefully and crossed his arms, but did not add anything. Nixon bit his lip to stop a smile, the cheeky bastard, before dismissing himself.

“Oh, Winters?”

“What is it, Nix?” Winters sighed.

“Your face was as red as your hair since the minute you saw her.” He said, then turned his back. Winters couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. If possible, his face went even redder than before.

@kokomobunny thank you for the inspiration for this long ass thing. hope you enjoy !!

#richard winters #richard winters x reader #richard winters imagine #bob imagine #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #lewis nixon #major richard winters #captain richard winters

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cordonianchoicesqueen · 7 years ago

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Rewritten: The Royal Romance: Date or Tour Guide? (Part Two)

A/N: Really enjoying writing this so far. Can’t wait to explore all of these relationships after they really know each other.

Summary: A day just like any other, apart from a mysterious bachelor party. Riley is introduced to Tariq, Maxwell, Drake and Liam for the first time working as a waitress in New York City.

Choices Chapter: First half of Choices Chapter One

Disclaimer: Characters and main storyline from Pixelberry’s Choices.

Word Count: 2750

Warnings: none

Date or Tour Guide?

Months before…

I threw a huge, smelly bag on the already huge pile of trash in the alley, out the back of Elliot’s Bar and Grill. A rat ran out from under it and I let out a small scream, clasping my throat. As it scuttled off, I swore again that I was going to quit by the end of the month. I’d graduated three months ago and it was time to stop pretending I wasn’t an adult and do something with the degree I’d earned. Television shows had always told me that young, twenty somethings lived such glamorous, fun lives in New York but this felt far from glamorous. I felt like I could still smell the beer on my clothes that one of the customers poured down me hours ago… “Hey! Riley, quit slacking and get over here!” yelled my manager from the back door. “There’s a bachelor party just arrived that need table service. Chop, chop!” I rolled my eyes. Another bachelor party. Fabulous. More men living their “last night of freedom,” which usually involved me getting harassed in one way or another. Sometimes they left good tips though, so I put on my best customer service smile and made my way back inside.

Elliot’s was the type of bar that was trying to be classier than it actually was with a nice enough interior and sky high drink prices that you could only get away with in New York. I looked over to the table number I had been given and was surprised to see three well dressed, young men, sitting patiently for service. As I approached, the eldest in the group with sharp features and an obviously whitened smile said, “Waitress, there you are! Could we please get a list of your best wine-“ “Forget the wine, Tariq,” interjected the only member of the group not dressed in a suit, “bring us whiskey, and lots of it!” Ignoring the demands, I thought best to start from scratch, “Hello, gentlemen. I’ll be taking care of you this evening.” “Waitress,” said the youngest of the group in a classy black shirt, “steaks for the table!” “Now, now, Maxwell. How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a béarnaise sauce?” the man identified as Tariq asked. As he was the only member of the party who had uttered the word please, I turned to Tariq and responded, “I’m afraid the closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger…” “I’m not sure I’m going to want that wine list after all,” he said crest fallen. “We’ve got an excellent vintage house red,” I said shrugging. “House red?” Tariq responded, clearly appalled. “It, also, comes in white,” I said, getting a little laugh from the other two but Tariq did not look at all amused. “We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey,” said the man who obviously was only ever interested in whiskey, “…and four deluxe burgers.” “Four?” I questioned looking at the three of them. The man nodded to behind me. I slowly turned and saw the fourth member of their party standing in the doorway peering around, looking for his friends. I made a silent wish that this was not the bachelor of this bachelor’s party. I felt red rush to my cheeks as I looked at his broad shoulders filling out his perfectly fitted suit. His eyes were dark, but reassuring and kind, even from a distance. His smile, as he noticed his friends behind me, was breath-taking. I wasn’t the type to be bowled over by looks but I couldn’t help but become tongue tied as he walked across the room. “Sorry I’m late,” he said to his friends. He then turned to me and said, “Thank you for your patience… Miss?” “Uh,” I struggled to speak, he smelt so fresh like he had just walked out of a tumble dryer… I bet he would feel just as warm to the touch… I swallowed hard. “Riley, I’m Riley.” “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Riley.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Now,” I snapped out of my daydream and let the poor man, who probably felt bad for me at this point, sit down, “let me go put your order through and I’ll be right back.” I rushed away before I could do any more damage to my tip. I put in their order and was soon distracted by other tables as the night got busier. I looked over to check they were still good for drinks often but one of the other waitresses had obviously discovered the table of attractive men and I rarely had an empty drink or a dish to clear. Towards the end of the night, I was called into the back to help the clearing staff and wished away every minute so that I could go home. I couldn’t wait to climb into bed and sleep for a solid twelve hours. As the shift was ending, though, I could feel my next shift getting closer, which made my stomach feel uneasy. I headed back out to the bar to cash up. Counting in my head, I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. When I turned, I was faced with the gorgeous man from the Bachelor table. He smiled at me, a little less sober than when we’d last spoken but still in a good state. We were standing so close, I could have reached out and cupped his face. “I think we’re about ready to head out. I just wanted to thank you… and apologise. I know we are one of the last tables here so we kept you late, and my friends can be… demanding,” he shrugged awkwardly. “Demanding? Not at all, you’ve been a lot better than what I’m used to,” I replied. “I got the feeling that you could take care of us without any problem.” I could take care of you, I thought. Before I could reply, he said, “if you don’t have any other plans tonight, maybe I could make it up to you… by buying you a drink? We’re just about to go out to a club if you’d want to join us?” Completely taken aback that this gorgeous stranger was inviting me out to a drink when I had just been planning to go home and put on my onesie, I said, “Oh? Which club?” “Actually, we were hoping you might have some advice about that. We’re not from around here.” That made more sense. He needed a tour guide, not a date. Luckily, I knew the clubbing scene in the area well from my University days when all my friends still lived in the city. “Kismet is still quite new, but established as being a great night out, especially on a Saturday,” I said. “That sounds perfect. I know the guys want to go crazy tonight!” he said. “Lead the way!” I don’t know why but I could not find a way to say no to his eager gaze. I felt excited to be a part of this party and do something different than my usual routine. Usually such a creature of habit, this felt natural somehow. “Sure,” I heard myself say, “Let me just finish up and I’ll meet you guys out front.” I rapidly finished clearing up, the entire time questioning what on earth I was getting myself into. I didn’t even know his name! I went into the back to change and began freaking out even more when I thought about the fact I could not go to Kismet in my beer-soaked uniform or in the sweats I’d worn to work. I sat down for a moment thinking, resting my tired head in my hands. The employee lockers felt cold on my back. I needed an outfit. I didn’t have one. Who else would have one in their locker? In a locker that wasn’t locked… I jumped up and checked one of the lockers. It swung open. One of the bartenders had told me before if I ever needed to borrow something I could and I was going to owe her more than a couple drinks for this save. I grabbed her designer jeans and deep purple satin top. Paired with my black, heeled boots and my leather jacket (and a quick re-application of makeup), I looked as though I hadn’t just worked a ten hour shift…ish.

I stepped out onto the busy street that was alight with life as party goers yelled and sang. The bachelor party in their suits were not hard to pick out. “Hang on… the waitress is coming with us?” asked Whiskey-Boy. “Actually, we’re going with her. Please, excuse Drake’s manners. In fact, how rude of us not to introduce ourselves. This is Drake,” he motioned to the casually dressed man who rolled his eyes. “This is Maxwell,” the youngest of the group reached out to me and shook my hand, a big, cheesy grin on his face. “This is Tariq,” Tariq shook my hand, sharply, “and I’m Liam.” Liam, his name felt like butter, “nice to officially meet you all, eh, off the clock.” “Riley is picking our next destination,” Liam said. “So she’s our tour guide now?” Drake said grumpily. I didn’t know what his problem was but I felt myself bristle as his tone. Who did he think he was to speak to me like that? Was this his bachelor party? Did he not want a girl a long? “Riley, was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favour, play nice,” Liam grabbed Drake by the shoulders in mock massage. Drake immediately shook him off, “let’s go then.” I led them down the block to Kismet. The line was ridiculous. I started to make my way towards the back of the line when Tariq decided to walk straight up to the bouncer. I was about to yell that he couldn’t just do that but Tariq put a soft hand on the bouncer’s shoulder, whispered in his ear, handed him something and we were ushered straight inside. I hadn’t been to Kismet in a few months but it was still just as busy and lively as I remembered. A huge disco ball reflected light across the room over the dance floor and the walls were lined with booths of people enjoying bottles of whatever they wanted. Lights flashed across a crowd in ecstasy, classy and messy all rolled into one. I became very aware of just how sober I was next to the partying crowd. The guys immediately headed for the dance floor. The floor lit up in shades of pink and blue, professional dancers performed on podiums and confetti pumped out into the air. “Let’s party!” Maxwell yelled above the din. “No one wants to see your running man, Maxwell,” Drake said, too cool to let off steam but the corners of his mouth wavered with a smile. “You there!” Tariq started yelling up to one of the dancers on the podiums. If I could have politely face palmed in real life I would have. “Yes, you! Who do we talk to for bottle service?” The dancer pointed over to a woman beside the bar and Tariq bee-lined for her. Before I knew it, Tariq had procured us one of the best tables in the house, overlooking the dance floor. We each had a glass of champagne in our hands and were toasting to the club. Tariq stood at the edge of the platform the, with his glass draped in his hand, survey the dance-floor looking like a lion survey his prey. “I’ll buy you whiskey for the rest of the night if you come dance with me!” yelled Maxwell to Drake over the music. Maxwell was already seat-dancing as close to Drake’s face as he could get. All smiles and arms waving. Drake shrugged and they exited towards the dance-floor. Liam sat next to me and lent closer so that I could hear him, his breath tickling my hair against my neck, “thank you for bringing us here. Looks like the guys are having fun already!” “You seem like the one in the group who is always putting everyone else first,” I said. “Why would you say that?” he asked. “I’m good at reading people, work at a bar long enough and you start to notice. Now, forget about your friends for a moment,” I felt myself getting more confident with each sip of champagne, “What about you? Do you like it here?” “What I’m enjoying most, is the company,” he said and I could feel the blush filling my cheeks, “and I do believe, I owe you a drink… So what’ll the lady have?” I was so sure he was flirting with me. I would have bet a lot of money on it. Yet, I still couldn’t believe this kind, out of this world, attentive stranger could be interested in his waiter from Elliot’s. I needed to drink more. “Shall we have some shots?” I laughed. Moments later, Liam handed me a drink and raised his own glass, “two double shots of whiskey. You don’t mess around, do you?” “Never,” I teased, clinking my glass with his. As we drank, I closed my eyes and let the club music pump into my veins. I felt like my heart was bumping to the same rhythm. I felt refreshed, I felt new or… maybe more myself than I had felt in a long time. “Thanks, I guess that makes us even now,” I said. “You’re right. Now I’ll have to find some other excuses to get you to stay,” he placed his glass down on the table. That was definitely flirting, there is no way that was not flirting, my brain yelled. “You don’t need an excuse for me to stay. Turns out… I’m, also, having fun?” I laughed. “I’m very happy to hear that,” he said and I swear I could see him blushing a little but it may have just been the lights. “Honestly? Hanging out with you is the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.” “Oh… that’s very sweet,” I felt lost for words. “I guess that means you haven’t really been enjoying yourself very much.” “It’s been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to do one thing in particular when I was here,” he said. “And what was that?” “It’s going to sound silly but I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty… It wasn’t really in the guys’ plan so we just didn’t get around to it. And now,” he looked at his watch, “it’s my last day here. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. It was thoughtful of my friends to throw me this bachelor party… They’ve done their best but I’m not in the mood to celebrate” My heart sank. Of course. Of course, this incredible man was the bachelor. Of course, he’s on his “last night of freedom” and invited his waitress out with his rich friends… Of course, he couldn’t be as kind as I thought if he had a fiancé… Maybe I had just been reading it wrong? “This is your bachelor party?” I asked pinching my nose in-between my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I felt the whiskey shots surge within me, “You’re pretty flirty for an engaged guy.”I was shocked the words came out of my mouth the minute I’d said them. “I don’t think your fiancée would be too happy about that.” Liam didn’t look shocked or defensive about my comments, he was perfectly composed. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, but only for a moment. “That’s the funny thing,” Liam said gazing at me, searchingly, “I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry yet, only that I’ll have to pick my fiancée very soon.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, very confused at this point. “The truth is Riley… I’m the… I… I come from a family with weird traditions and I haven’t got an actual fiancé yet but… I will soon? If that makes sense?” he stumbled. I stood up, picking up my bag and jacket from the booth. “If you’re engaged, you’re engaged to someone. It’s okay. You don’t need to lie about it. I just want to nip this in the bud before I embarrass myself any further,” I said calmly. He took my hand gently, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you the truth.” “What is that then?” “The truth is, Riley… I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia.”

#choices #cordonianchoicesqueen #choices app #trr #choices trr #the royal romance #playchoices #fanfic #choices fandom #drake walker #prince liam #maxwell beaumont #pb #trrgang #cordonia #rewritten

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vampirerafa-blog · 8 years ago

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Major Quest 004: See You At The Crossroads

What: So much awkwardness. Bickering. Banter. Pop culture references.

Who: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles aka Leonardo Flynn and Rafael Alvarez

Where: So far away from where they should be.

Notes: Mobile time stamps. I’m lazy, sue me.

Status: not finished

viktor . – 25.02.17 05:45 > This was the first time Rafael didn’t finish a quest and to be honest, he felt utterly lost. He wasn’t used to not getting all the necessary clues handed to him as a reward for his hard work, instead having to go with whatever rumors pop up on the message boards. Closing the user interface with a grunt, he decided he’d have to find a better way to obtain information. It was just in that moment when a somewhat familiar dark-haired man passed him by, the translated note in his hands. Blowing all caution to the wind, he decided to follow him. “Hey, wait up!”, he called out, obviously struggling to keep up with his wide steps. “Hi. We know each other. You’re Leonardo right? I’m Rafael. We met in the tavern once? My friend dragged me into this awkward conversation between-”, it was rare that Rafael caught himself rambling, usually not even noticing when he gave too much information in too little time for any brain to comprehend, but it seemed that miracles still happened. “I- uh- just wanted to ask if maybe I could take a look at that?”, he asked, his voice becoming more and more quiet the further he got into the sentence, motioning towards the note.

Ro – 25.02.17 22:00 > Leo had been minding his own business when he was suddenly accosted by the random other player. Coming to a sudden stop, all he could do was stand there and blink at the onslaught of babbling. Is this how others felt when they spoke to him? And Leo was taken aback with the confidence that he had when he stated they knew each other. Honestly, Leo barely remembered whatever encounter the man was referencing until he felt a brief flicker of recognition at Rafael’s name. “Rafael? The teenage mutant ninja turtle guy?” he repeated back with a raised brow. He hadn’t expected to ever encounter him again. “I suppose you could take a peek…” he agreed grudgingly, reluctantly releasing his tight grip on the paper. “For a moment.”

viktor . – 25.02.17 23:15 > “The one and only,” he said with a bright smile before snatching the note out the Leo’s hand before he had the time to change his mind. Reading it, he nodded between making small humming noises. “This is fascinating,” he commented with his eyes still glued to the paper, raising his hands to push up his glasses out of habit only to be reminded that he didn’t need them in game and hence wasn’t even wearing them. “Seriously, fascinating!”, he repeated as he handed it back, his expression going blank. “You got any clue what this is supposed to mean?”

Ro – 26.02.17 00:04 > Leo watched with a tense frown, arms crossed. He didn’t have any reason to suspect Rafael would take off with the clue but he still didn’t want to take any chances. But he couldn’t help the slight curl of his mouth upwards when Rafael pushed up his nonexistent glasses. Leo was having the same problem, he was used to wearing reading glasses. Taking the paper back with a shrug, Leo put it back into his inventory. “Seems to be a riddle. Word on the street is that the answer is ‘crossroads’.” he replied.

viktor . – 26.02.17 02:58 > Rafael gave a small laugh in reaction to Leo’s reply. “Wow, someone is super invested in this, huh?” Maybe he was just overly excited, driven by this whole you-want-what-you-can’t-have mentality, but the other man’s disinterested still seemed somewhat odd. “Are you not doing the quest?”

Ro – Monday 05:23 > “Eh. I figure if I don’t do it, somebody else will.” Leo offered indifferently. Wasn’t that what had happened with this quest? It was all over the message boards anyway. But Leo had to admit, after getting the run around for the clue he kind of felt obligated to see it through. “I honestly hadn’t though about it yet.”

viktor . – Monday 12:40 > “That’s the downside of MMORPGs, isn’t it? You don’t really have to think for yourself,” he commented with a shrug. “Dude. Are you serious?” he asked with an almost offended expression, quickly turning into an enthusiastic smile, “You can’t just not do it. You traveled miles just for this piece of paper! It would be a shame not do it!”

Ro – Tuesday 20:35 > Leo’s eyes widened at the sudden enthusiasm. Raphael seemed to go through more emotions in a single conversation than Leo did in an entire day. “Err….” he hedged, taken aback. “I guess? If you’re that keen, did you want it?” Leo held out the paper. Rafael seemed ten times more interested than himself, he probably deserved it more.

viktor . – Tuesday 20:48 > “Are you serious?” At this point Rafael was basically bouncing with excitement. “That’s awesome! God, I’m excited,” his expression faltered a little. “How are you not excited? What are you, some kind of quest Grinch?”, Rafael asked, slapping Leo’s arm lightly.

Ro – Tuesday 20:53 > Leo just watched the others excitement with mild shock. What was he, the fucking energizer bunny? “No,” he shot back with a scowl, mildly offended. He didn’t realize that was definitely not helping his case. “I just don’t really see the appeal.”

viktor . – Tuesday 21:03 > “Oh come on!”, Rafael groaned. How could someone be this pessimistic. “You don’t see the appeal of it? This is the most awesome quest yet! Venturing of into the jungle, fighting high level monsters, finding whatever this clue is hinting at”, he said, guesturing wildly. “Come on, don’t say you’re not even a little bit excited?”

Ro – Tuesday 23:58 > Leo raised a brow. “Getting our asses kicked by things way more powerful than us,” he added onto Rafael’s list. He dodged a flailing hand. “Have you read any book or comic ever? Going into the creepy jungle alone never ends well. June Moone thought it was a good idea to go into the jungle in Central America and then she got possessed by a creepy killer witch goddess. Do you want to end up as Enchantress, Rafael?”

viktor . – Wednesday 13:23 > “Well, that would actually be pretty awesome,” he said, blinking at Leo with a blank expression, obviously having trouble with wrapping his head around the idea of anyone not wanting to end up as Enchantress. “Okay. Fine. But think about it. The adventure. The mystery. It’ll be like Indiana Jones! Fighting our way through the jungle just to find some mysterious object. Doesn’t that sound cool?”

Ro – Wednesday 13:26 > Leo just frowned. “Seriously? If I had the option I’d want to be like, Captain America or something. Or Spider-Man. Significantly less creepy evil vibes.” But that was besides the point, he was getting off topic. Leo paused. When had my become our? He shifted. “Well…I suppose somebody needs to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

viktor . – Wednesday 13:31 > “Sure, I mean, Cap is cool. And Spidey is classic. But the creepy evil vibes are what makes Enchantress so enchanting .” He raised his brows with a wide smile on his face, pointing finger guns at Leo, anticipating his reaction to what Rafael considered a clever pun. “Oh come on. I’m a vampire. I’m tough.”

Ro – Wednesday 13:35 > Leo stared blankly before rolling his eyes. “Gesù, that’s… that’s just awful. Please stop.” Sighing, he leveled him with a flat look. “Great. So you can take it on yourself then.”

viktor . – Wednesday 16:34 > “I- uh, sure,” he started hemming and hawing. Letting out an awkward, humorless chuckle he rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Leo. “I sure could make it on my own. Definitely. No problem. But, you know, you kinda need two people for this. So it’s not like I need help or anything because I really don’t. I can totally handle it, but, I, uh…”

Ro – Thursday 03:39 > Leo watched his bumbling with a slight smirk. “Right,” he said with mild amusement. “Lead the way then, oh fearless one.”

viktor . – Thursday 07:25 > “Are you serious?”, Rafael asked, almost surprised, but beaming with a bright smile. “Awesome!” Stretching his arm high over his head, he waited for Leo to give him a high-five.

Ro – Thursday 07:32 > Leo looked back at him, horrified. Seriously? He gave the hand a skeptical once over before sighing in defeat and reaching up for a reluctant high-five. “Don’t make me regret this.”

viktor . – Thursday 22:38 > “Yeah, there we go, big guy. That wasn’t too bad now, was it?”, he asked, patting Leo’s shoulder with a wide grin. “Oh I’d never. You’ll see, this is going to be so awesome. Just follow my lead.” He nodded towards the harbor and started walking.

Ro – Thursday 22:47 > Leo rolled his eyes to the sky, begging for the lord to give him strength, before trailing after Rafael. “Awesome isn’t exactly the adjective I’d use. Hey, what’s your class anyway?”

viktor . – Thursday 22:51 > “How about amazing? Terrific? Marvelous?” He gave Leo a quick once over before weekly suggesting “ Rad? ”, just because it seemed like something that fitted Leo’s vocab. “I’m a thief. You?”

Ro – Thursday 23:00 > “Rad?” Leo repeated as if the very word offended him. “No, I was thinking somewhere more along the lines of noioso.” There. Let him try to figure that one out. “I’m a pirate. Seems we’ve both picked classes better suited to DPS. Pity we don’t have a tank.” translation: boring/tedious

viktor . – Thursday 23:18 > “Hey, no offense. I mean, you look like a rad kinda guy,” Rafael said with a shrug. “Or swell maybe? Your expression sure fits that whole Breakfast Club atmosphere.” Squinting, he gave Leo a long, hard look. “Sorry. I don’t speak Spanish. I don’t even blame you. I get that a lot. I mean, it’s the name right? Like. Rafael? That just sounds so Latino. And I am Mexican. Also Cuban. And some Columbian. So definitely Latino. But boy, my Spanish? The worst.” Rafael shrugged lightly and gave a small wave. Sure, Leo was somewhat right, but his species perks made him quite durable. “I’m a vampire, too. So I can take a few hits. We don’t need a tank.”

Ro – Thursday 23:55 > “Breakfast club atmosphere?” Leo repeated weakly before trailing off as Rafael rambled on. Was he joking? Did Leo even look Spanish? “Look, kid, I don’t care about your long and confusing background.” he cut off roughly. “And it’s Italian. I’m Italian.” He was mildly offended. How could somebody not recognize that? Shaking it off, he frowned. “I’m a human so I guess I could make a tasty treat if need be.”

viktor . – Friday 08:20 > “Yeah?”, Rafael asked almost sarcastically. How could anyone no know what he meant with Breakfast Club atmosphere. “You know. That 80s movie? Set in a high school? Bunch of kids from different backgrounds come together for detention? Everyone is white, because, well, it’s the 80s?” For a second, he didn’t know what to say. He was used to rambling. He was used to people cutting him off, but this? This seemed a little harsh. “Wow. Sorry, I-”, he hesitated for a second, raising his hands defensively, “I really didn’t mean to offend you.” His characteristic smile was still heavy on his features but his brows were slightly furrowed, making him almosy look worry. “I really appreciate the offer mate, but I’ll pass. I try not to feed of actual people. I’m not too good with blood,” Rafael said, pulling a face.

Ro – Friday 08:29 > Leo snorted despite himself. He wasn’t wrong. “Right, well I suppose that makes you Brian then?” He didn’t even want to know who Rafael would say he was. Bender, probably. “It’s fine just - seriously? Spanish?” He was rather proud of his heritage, the idea that someone could think he was Spanish was ludicrous to say the least. “You chose vampire? When you hate blood?” he couldn’t help but ask dryly.

viktor . – Friday 08:41 > “Duh, obviously,” he said with a light chuckle in his voice. “I’d almost say Bender. Not really that whole bad boy thing, but this?”, raising a hand, he vaguely gestured at Leo’s face, “This looks like Bender material. However, I think almost everyone here is a little bit of Brian.” Obviously. Most of the other characters would never ever pick up a video game, so some Brian undertones. “I’m bad with languages, okay? Also Spanish and Italian are both Romance languages so cut me some slack,” Rafael was half whining at this point. He didn’t like to admit that he wasn’t good at something. Especially languages. Especially Spanish. Or in this case, not Spanish. “I didn’t say I hate blood,” he raised his hands defensively, “I… Just prefer to… Stay away from it?” Rubbing his neck, a sighed in defeat. “It makes me icky, okay?”

Ro – Friday 08:47 > Leo narrowed his eyes slightly at the gesture. “This? What - no, I don’t even want to know,” he sighed. Might as well just stop him while he was ahead or they’d be here all day. Rafael somehow managed to drag him into these stupid arguments without Leo even realizing. It was exhausting. His eyebrows shot up. “It makes you icky?” Seriously, what was he, five? “Don’t you need it to survive? You’re kind of fucked there.”

viktor . – Friday 09:01 > Rafael just opened his mouth to explain, but then decided he’d rather not. Offending Leo anymore didn’t seem to be the best idea after all. “Yeah,” he admitted with a goofy smile, “I noticed. Not like I could actually expect that though. That I have to drink blood or literally die. To death.”

Ro – Friday 09:10 > “As opposed to simply dying, yes,” Leo barely managed to get out with a straight face. He didn’t think it was possible to meet somebody more rambly than him, but here he was, staring Leo right in the face. He cracked a smile. “I’m just thankful I picked human.”

viktor . – Friday 09:15 > Seeing Leo smile felt like a huge accomplishment - one that Rafael knew better than to comment on if he wanted it to last. “Why did you though? Some people might just say humans are boring.” Upon reaching the harbour, Rafael quickly looked around to find a ship. “Want me to show off my cool vampire abilities to get us onto that?”, he asked, pointing.

Ro – Friday 10:43 > He simply shrugged. “I wasn’t really interested in anything flashy or complicated. I just wanted something comfortable and familiar.” Besides, boring was actually pretty accurate. Leo wasn’t really one for excitement. Trailing after Rafael, he raised a brow. “Go for it, Dracula.”

viktor . – Friday 22:00 > Rafael nodded, “Just how Leonardo chose to go with a sword. Simple, classic, effective. Good call.” A wide grin spread on his face as he passed Leo by with a pat on the shoulder. “Okay, watch this.” Walking up to the captain, he looked at him with a… focused expression? Actually, it was hard to tell what exactly what Rafel was doing. But it was obviously not compulsion. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, he just went back to rambling, explaining how he was trying really hard to make his new friend all excited for this quest and he really needed for things to work out because he while he said he could totally make it on his own he totally couldn’t and he wished he could just pay for a ride on the ship like a normal person or do anything ever like a normal person instead of being his weird awkward self - That was when the captain suddenly cut him off, rolling his eyes at him he stepped aside and motioned for him to get on board. “Come on!”, he shouted over to Leo, thankful that his charisma skill saved the day once again.

Ro – Saturday 01:13 > Leo grimaced at the use of his full name but simply nodded. “Raphael used sai so it seems we’re both conforming to our stereotypes.” He just raised his brows at the wide grin. “Alright, go work your magic.” He watched skeptically from the side as Rafael talked to the captain. Was it supposed to be taking this long? Surely the vampire compulsion was supposed to be quicker than this. Right before he gave up and moved to join him, Rafael finally waved him over. Sighing, Leo jogged over “You do realize I’m a pirate? I could have helped with that?”

viktor . – Saturday 15:24 > “What, like we have choice?”, Rafael teased, his hand immediately finding his daggers in his pockets. Funny enough how he just noticed the similarities now. He was proud enough that he actually managed to work this out for them, but Leo’s comment sure made it feel like less of an accomplishment. “I- That would actually have been helpful, but as you can see, I managed just fine,” he pointed out in a weak attempt to fix his pride.

#leo #majorquest #bfrpgmajorquest004

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