#and you think you can move on but then you find yourself scrambling to piece back together a photo so you don't lose her for good

[jannacalendar]

I don't know if anyone here has ever watched Primeval but what happens to Claudia Brown haunts me to this day

[pathologicalreid]

what goes bump in the night | s.r.

in which Spencer's struggling with violent nightmares after prison, and you find yourself on the receiving end of his tossing and turning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: reader gets whapped in the face. don't like don't read, please. blood, prison arc, black eye, a lot of guilt. therapy. word count: 1.89k a/n: (this wasn't a request but shout out to the anon who told me i had to repost this after i deleted it) this is some dark shit but i have to admit i do think about the possibility a lot. take care while reading my loves.

Several years in the BAU had inadvertently trained you to wake up at any slight movement or noise. While some might call it paranoia, you considered it to be a finely tuned skill.

Spencer didn’t sleep talk before prison, and even now, he only mumbled in his sleep when he was having a nightmare. Normally, he didn’t move, he just tossed his head around and begged for whoever he was seeing in his nightmare to just hold on. Tonight was different, he sounded like he was pleading for someone to leave him alone, and he was thrashing more than usual.

You knew there was a risk of waking him, but you reached out and gently shook his shoulder anyway. “Spence,” you whispered, not wanting to hurtle him out of his darkened dreamscape.

There was no response. No sign of him coming even close to waking up.

His thrashing became worse, and his mumbling became even less intelligible like something was covering his mouth in his dream. Reaching out from your side of the bed, you tried to grab his hand, hoping it would be something that he could use to ground himself. Gripping his hand, you said his name again, more forcefully this time.

The pain didn’t even register at first. The first thing you recognized was the sensation of having something stuck in your eye, a small twinge in the outer corner that sent your hands flying to the side of your face.

Oh.

With your uninjured eye, you looked up to see Spencer, awake. Breathing heavy, sure, but awake. Very slowly, his breathing slowed, but he had seemingly forgotten that he was sharing a bed with you until you felt liquid trickling from your nose and scrambled to the bathroom before you got blood all over the sheets.

His wide eyes followed your shadow through the bedroom, putting the convoluted puzzle pieces together as he came out from under his nightmare-induced fugue state only to find a different type of panic. You faintly heard him curse and rustle the sheets as you shut the bathroom door harder than you intended.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your right eye was tearing up as a result of the impact, and your nose was trickling blood down your face. Grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the counter, you pressed them to your nose, blinking the tears from your eyes to the sound of your heart beating through your chest.

Spencer knocked on the bathroom door, followed by a larger thud that you assumed was him leaning his head against the door. “Can I come in?”

You tried not to sniff, hating the sensation of your nose being covered, you responded, “It’s your bathroom.” Your tone was far too blasé, and Spencer was going to see through it immediately.

“That’s not what I asked,” he told you, a slight tone of desperation ringing through. You knew what he wanted to know; he was asking if you were comfortable with him being in the same room as you – if you’d feel safe with him in the same room as you.

Leaning your head back, you took as deep of a breath as your body would physically allow you before you answered, “Yeah, you can come in.”

Before you had even finished speaking, Spencer had opened the door to the bathroom, letting the light stream into the bedroom, “Fuck,” he murmured when he saw you, “Hey, don’t lean your head back. You don’t want the blood to run down your throat.”

“Okay,” your voice quavered, watching him lift his hands like he wanted to guide your head down until he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands – he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. Leaning over the sink, you let coagulated blood fall from your mouth, watching it go down the drain before you looked up at Spencer, who watched on in horror at the mess he had created. “Can you grab more tissues?” You asked him, giving him a job to busy his idle hands.

Instantly, Spencer grabbed a handful of tissues and held them out for you, within your range of motion. Still leaning over the sink, you took the new tissues and held them to your nose, haphazardly dropping the soiled tissue in the basin beneath you. “I don’t… What-“

Cutting him off, you spoke, “Do you still have those ice packs? The first aid ones from last year,” you made a new request, giving him a job to perform so that he wouldn’t apologize to you. He’d apologize until he was blue in the face, but you still wouldn’t know how to respond.

He nodded, crouching in front of one of the cabinets and filtering through a first aid kit, hoping to produce a disposable ice pack for you to place near your eye. With the timidness of a newborn foal, Spencer set the plastic on the counter next to you.

Your boyfriend watched as you carefully peeled the tissues from your face, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, only to quickly replace the tissue when you noticed a trickle of fresh blood making its way down your philtrum. “Aren’t you supposed to pinch it or something?”

“Yes, you can pinch the bridge of your nose to staunch the bleeding,” Spencer said, grabbing your discarded Kleenex and putting them in the garbage bin. He watched intently as you reached up your free hand to pinch your nose, “Does… does it hurt?”

Giving him a quick shake of the head, you met his eyes through the mirror, “I don’t think it’s broken,” you told him, avoiding answering most of his question.

He loosed a sigh of relief, “Thank god,” he murmured, keeping an eye on you as you wondered how terrified he must have been to invoke the name of a deity he didn’t believe in.

Once you were finally able to drop the last of the tissues in the sink, you were faced with an even worse reality. There was no way of escaping the black eye that you already had forming, the tender skin would be further marred with time. “I think it looks worse than it actually is,” you offered meekly, reaching to your side and grabbing the ice pack off of the counter. You popped the center of it before wrapping it in a towel that Spencer had set out for you.

Holding in a hiss as the towel touched your face, you allowed your eyes to wander across the rest of your body. Your shirt had drips of blood on it, but the larger issue was red encrusted all over your face. With the urgency of a sloth, Spencer took a different towel from the drawer and ran it under the tap, wringing it out before holding it up, “May I?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, thankful for your newly cleared airway as you extended your neck, giving him the access he needed to wipe the blood from your chin and neck. “Spence-“

“I’m so sorry,” he interjected, his movements faltering as he let his hand drop to your shoulder.

You shook your head, crinkling the icepack in your hand, you blinked rapidly, hoping to clear your vision. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” you told him, it was the truth. He had obviously been having a violent nightmare, and you grabbing him had likely triggered a fight or flight response.

Spencer sighed dejectedly, “I burst a blood vessel in your eye. I’m so…” his voice trailed off in the middle of his sentence, leaving you unsure whether he was going to apologize again or go off on a self-deprecating tirade. “I hit you,” he breathed, abruptly yanking his hands away from you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Setting the washcloth on the counter, he put his hands up in surrender and stepped away from you.  

Leaning against the bathroom counter, you wished for an inkling – anything you could say to him that would prevent his auto-villainization. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. Saying you hit me sounds so…”

“Wrong? That’s because it is,” he said harshly, and you could almost see the storm of self-loathing that was brewing in his mind.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on the icepack before looking up at him, “but it makes it sound like it was intentional. You didn’t hit me, you… thwapped me.”

Spencer loosed a shaky sigh, “I’m not so sure that’s better.”

“Would you prefer bonked?” You proposed, looking at him and hoping for a small smile, but being disappointed when you were met with the same haunted expression. “It was an accident,” you insisted, reaching out your unoccupied hand and taking his hand in yours, “I am fine.”

He scoffed dismissively, “I should have had a better handle on myself.”

You frowned, “You were asleep, Spence. You couldn’t have had a better handle on yourself. It wasn’t on purpose, and you’re taking care of me now,” you told him softly.

“But you’re scared of it happening again,” he challenged you.

When he had come home, you knew he had been changed. Not necessarily for the better or for worse, but he was most certainly changed. You had heard everything in bits and pieces, what had happened in Millburn, what had happened with Cat, but nothing had prepared you for the harshness of your new reality. He was capable of harming others, but that didn’t mean you thought he’d hurt you again. “You’re disappointed in yourself, but you don’t believe you get to feel that way. You’re projecting onto me,” you told him, taking your hand back.

Spencer flinched back, “Don’t profile me.”

“You, Spencer Reid, would never knowingly lay a hand on me,” you insisted, you believed it. You believed it even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The two of you sat in an angst-filled silence before he stood up straight, gently starting to usher you into the bedroom. Handing you a t-shirt from your drawer to change into, you could see his internal struggle as he grabbed a pillow from the bed and made his way toward the door.

Despondently, your shoulders slumped forward, “Where are you going?” You asked softly, hating to watch him leave your shared bedroom over this.

“I’m sleeping on the couch. I’m gonna… I’ll try to set up a meeting with my therapist in the morning. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you with wide, sad eyes, “You’re okay?”

Your heart ached at his voice as you nodded, opening your arms for him and letting out a sigh of relief when he returned to you for a hug. Reaching your free hand behind him, you rubbed his back comfortingly, “We’re going to make it through this, mark my words.”

He nodded in affirmation as he pulled away, “For my own peace of mind, I’ll sleep on the couch for a while.”

You accepted it, knowing that he needed to deal with this in his own way, he closed the door behind him, effectively leaving you alone. Laying back on the pillows with your icepack still clutched to your face, you sighed, wondering how long it had been since your boyfriend felt any semblance of peace of mind.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Illuminated.

Pairing: Yandere!Apollo x Reader (Greek Mythology).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Stalking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, No Specified Gender For The Reader But They Are A Hunter Of Artemis, and Implied Kidnapping.

[Commissioned Piece. Donate To Palestinians In Gaza Here.]

“You, my love, are the poet’s demise.”

You stiffened at the sound of his melodic voice, shrinking into yourself before thinking better of taking on such a mouse-like posture and straightening. Still, you failed to stop yourself from crossing your arms over your chest, pulling your knees up and hoping beyond hope that the silvery water would be enough to hide your form from his unfaltering stare. You thought it’d be safer to bathe at night, apart from your sisters, when the softened moonlight protected you from his burning gaze, but you’d been naïve to think that any hour could be late enough to spare you haven. During the day, you lived under the burning gaze of his blazing chariot, busied yourself with shooting down hawks and ravens carrying gifts in their beaks, and at night, he had no burdens to keep him from closing the distance between you using less... ancillary methods.

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, my lord.” You forced yourself to laugh, glancing over your shoulder. Sure enough, Apollo stood on the river’s opposing bank, his tanned skin nearly radiant in the darkness. If the sight of him hadn’t brought you such dread, you might’ve thought him beautiful. “As of late, my aim’s been so poor that I can hardly call myself a stag’s demise, let alone a man’s.”

You were quick to look away from him, but you could still hear his gentle hum, picture the way his lips would lilt upward as he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s deathly true,” he went on, taking a step forward. The water rushed to part as he stepped where it had once been, and in turn, you scrambled for the robes you’d left on the shore, barely managing to pull the ashen cloth around yourself before Apollo came to stand in front of you, his light quickly doing away with what little protection the shadows offered. It was only after you were haphazardly dressed that you considered it might be considered an affront to hide any part of yourself from divinity, but the worry was quickly forgotten. It was only natural to want to create yet another barrier between you and him. Even insects knew to run from their betters. “For even the most talented bard would struggle beyond words to describe your beauty. They could be chained to their desk for an eternity, study under the Muses’ own tutelage, and still be unable to write a single line.”

He held out a hand to you, but you pretended not to realize he meant for you to take it. “You’re far too kind. If you have a message for Lady Artemis, there’s no need to bribe me with such—”

“My love,” he cut in, his smile unwavering. “If I had any desire to speak to my sister, your help would not be necessary.”

“A prophecy concerning our next hunt, then? If there’s something we mustn’t do, I ought to get the Huntmaster, she’ll—”

“My love.” You felt your throat tighten, your mouth go dry. “Although your voice is sweeter than honey and lovelier than birdsong, I’ll admit – I do find myself rather irritated when it’s used to employ such thinly veiled excuses. Any more, and I might think it better to encase your tongue in gold. At least, then, I might have something charming to admire while you lie to me.” His fingers grazed over your jaw as he moved to cup your cheek. It was not a gesture you had the luxury of ignoring. “You know why I have come here.”

Oh, how you wished you’d gone with your sisters.

“I… I can’t, my lord.” Unlike his, your voice was perfectly capable of trembling, of shaking, of plummeting into the sort of jarring, unsteady downward inflections that would’ve been the death of any proper storyteller. “My vows are to Lady Artemis, and—” It was your turn to smile, now, to lilt your head to the side apologetically. “—she’d never forgive me if I broke them. Especially with you.”

For the first time, his good humor seemed to ebb, giving way to not anger, but a melancholy sort of disappointment. “I suppose you’re right,” he relented, his golden glow dimming ever so slightly. Suddenly, it did not hurt quite so unbearably to look at him. “It’s a terrible thing. Me and my sister never did learn to share.”

Relief nearly managed to overshadow your revulsion. “I really am sorry. My desire is not to insult you, but—”

This time, when he interrupted you, it was not with a teasing remark, a nectar-dipped pet name, the vague implication of an affection he expected you to return. Rather, there was a sudden brightness in his golden eyes, a sharpened point to his smile, and then, his lips were pressed into yours. The kiss was shallow, but lingering, and when you tried to draw back, the hand on your cheek kept you firmly in place – his hold not crushing, but steadfast, resolute. His unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist, his hand finding its place at the small of your back as he sapped the last of the breath from your lungs. It was only when your palms pressed into his chest, your blunt nails burrowing into his bare skin in a silent plea for air, that he pulled back. Panting and flushed, you made a desperate effort to pull away, to escape back to your encampment, back to your sisters, back to your goddess, but he only cooed, his bowstring calloused fingertips fanning over your cheek.

“Such a terrible thing,” he muttered, and you considered, briefly, that you might’ve been the first mortal to realize just how wretched his voice truly was.

“How fortunate it is, then, that you’ve caught the attention of such a selfish admirer.”

[earth4angels]

𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

modern!jacaerys x ballerina reader ─── first clumsy kisses on the bleachers, fluff, MAJOR FLUFF, jace is a little piece of shit in the beginning, aegon is the best friend we all need sometimes, blind date, jace acts possessive - major simp too.

summary: it takes a very braggy best friend who says he is the best cupid to ever exist for you to finally accept a blind date. however, you did not expect to cross paths with the one male who everyone wanted, a reputation of a lady-man but what could be worse? right?

a/n: this one i do want to make a series but i'll see how it's treated first so pls lemme know. listen to lovesick by laufey as you read (trust me)

jace tag list: @jacaerysgf @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy , @hxtd , @smurfelle , @nanaldy @valdezthg @littleblackcatinwonderland @nixtape-foryou @starrgurl46 @ethereal-athalia @stelleduarte @canyonmoon-2 @ambrosia-v-black

"Y/n, again. You are not lifting your leg high enough!"

You turned your head to look at your dance teacher who stood behind you, with a scolding face. You sighed, already irritated that you had to skip your friend's home welcoming party for practice.

As the music started playing again, you twirled. Your feet glided through the marble floor, the music becoming you, and for a while, you created a storyline with every bounce, and twirl you made. The final note was played as your body twirled then bent upward with your hands elegantly stretched outwards.

You looked like a painting and the few lookers that were in the room with you stared in awe. You breathed heavily through your nose as you remained in the final position until your instructor spoke.

"Amazing y/n! I feel like you hit the emotion straight in the face! I think we're done here," your instructor said, "Get out of here, enjoy the weekend off, I will see you Tuesday morning for the last rehearsals. Your audition will be on Saturday, do not forget!"

You smiled giddy that you could go early as you missed your best friend. He was finally home after visiting his grandparents, and though you and he stayed connected through Facetime, you longed to hug him.

"Thank you, Miss Royce, I will be there!" You scrambled to grab your bag; you bounced in your ballet shoes as you fell onto the floor untying the laces at a rapid pace. Your phone rang then, and you sighed in annoyance yet still picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"I cannot believe the one person that I wanted to see the most is not here. What do you take me as?" Aegon whined making you smile widely.

"Aegon!!!! I promise! I finished practice early! I'm heading over to you as fast as I can!" You slipped on your ballet slippers moaning softly at the difference between your pointe shoes and your soft slippers that relieved the pain on your feet.

"You better! Helaena and Aemond are bitching off my ear how you're not here!"

At that, you heard the voices of his siblings yelling over the phone asking about your whereabouts. You laughed at Aegon yelling, "that's MY best friend you idiots! Quit bothering!"

"Hurry! You don't have to call or anything when you arrive, the door is opened, just come to the back!"

You laughed again, hanging up after saying your goodbyes. Your velvety nude sling bag bounced with every running step you took as you ran to your car.

The house was lit up in pretty lights, you figured it was Helaena's doing along with Rhaena's, they were always the decorators when it came to parties. As you parked your car in front, you moved towards the door finding yourself hit with strong alcohol and loud music.

A scream was heard and then you were suddenly surrounded by long limbs. You huffed as the breath was taken from you, "Ooof!"

"I can't believe you are here! I have missed you so much!"

You moved your head back to see who had hugged you and when you saw their face you squealed. Both of you now bouncing, squealing together like young girls.

"Oh my gosh! Hels! You look so beautiful!"

Helaena rolled her eyes, "You are so much more beautiful! I have missed you so much, I will never leave longer than 2 months I promise!"

You hugged her tightly again muttering into her chest as she was taller than you were - how much you missed her.

"Come, the boys would want to see you!"

As you were taken to the backyard of the house you found yourself with a large crowd of people, you realized this was no longer a small gathering but rather a party. You scoffed, ah Aegon. You arrived at a ping pong table where Aegon was playing against Aemond, cheers were thrown left and right every single time they landed a shot.

You quietly stood in the middle of the table, eyeing the brothers' match, grinning softly at them throwing insults at each other. You knew it was all child's play as you knew they loved each other, but they were competitive.

"Fuck! Seven hells! You cheated!" Aegon exclaimed as he missed the shot, Aemond smirked shrugging his shoulders.

"Tough luck brother, now are you taking the shots or are you too wuss to?"

Aegon sneered, yet he never backed down, he leaned forward and grabbed all six shots, one by one they went down his throat. He shook his head and lifted his arms up as the crowd went wild. Aegon screamed with them as he was smiling boastfully.

You cleared your throat, "It's come to my attention that the jackass has not left you."

Aegon turned towards you, his soft uniquely lilac, with green-tinted eyes glimmered with joy, "Oh how much I missed you!"

You laughed as he swung you around in a tight hug, Aemond ran towards you as you were now wrapped in a group hug.

"I missed both of you idiots."

Aemond clicked his tongue, "You missed me more though, right?"

Aegon scoffed, "Shut your big chin up, again, she is MY best friend."

Your head moved from his face to Aemond as they bickered, your smile never faltering, "I missed both of you, I can't believe you guys left me for so long... I hate your mom for sending you to Oldtown."

Aegon huffed as he stuck a tongue out to his brother who did it back, "Careful babe, mom will punish you by denying you any sweet treats she bought you from home."

You gasped, "No way?" Aegon smiled as he nodded, "She bought me back treats? Why!? She didn't have to!"

Helaena who snuck her way into the group with a shot glass in her hand shoving it to your hand and nudging you to drink, "Mom loves you. I think she still wants to hook you up with Aegon."

You swallowed the tequila down, feeling the burning sensation for a few seconds before you and Aegon exclaimed together, "EW."

"She's like my sister."

"He's like my gay best friend I can never!"

Aegon stopped, before he looked at you in shock, "WHAT?"

You smiled teasingly, "Kidding," you whispered to Helaena who was grinning from the playful jabs both of you were making at each other, "Maybe."

"Okay, enough of that, let's have fun and we will catch up later, y/n sweetie, you will stay over tonight! No exceptions!"

You groaned as you got pulled into the crowd towards the homemade bar by Helaena. You did not remember much from that night besides maybe dancing too much, and accepting a body shot from some guy named Jake, or perhaps it was Jace? All you remember was how soft his lips were and how his arms held your thighs as he held you against the ping-pong table.

You groaned sitting up from the soft pillows, your head spinning in endless swirls, "Oh god... I am never drinking again."

"Sure, you're not."

You blinked, your head in your hands as you spotted Helaena next to you smiling at you teasingly. You groaned again falling back into the softness of the bed, scooting closer to her, making yourself in a small ball.

"Tell me how much of an idiot I was last night."

Helaena softly patted your hair, her finger combing through the rough tangles of your hair, "Ay. You didn't do much, you kind of deserved to have some fun. You are always practicing or studying."

"You know how badly I want to be a professional ballet dancer, I can't be a complete mess," you muttered into her chest where she continued combing your hair.

"You are perfect, not being a biased person here because you know, we're almost like sisters but I think you will be the best ballerina to ever exist, everyone will love you."

You kissed her cheek, muttering a soft thank you as you groaned again, hot flashes appearing, "Really though... how much of a clown was I?"

Helaena laughed then, "You practically made out with my nephew."

You shot up from her hold, your head spun again but paid no mind to the swirls, "Huh?! When?! I don't remember..." You trailed off mid-sentence as you forced your brain to remember said situation. You scrambled your hazy memories until it finally hit you.

You moaned in embarrassment as your hand gathered your forehead, "Oh... I remember... this is so embarrassing..."

Helaena laughed, "Relax, I think he won't remember either, both of you were pretty locked in though, until you..." She started laughing harder, "You vomited on his shoes."

You stared at her as she laughed, she was clutching her stomach from the ache that began to grow from the hard laughter she released. You sat in embarrassment, all the while you moaned from the pain and the shame that came to you.

You slapped your friend on the shoulder as she was heaving from laughing too much, "Hels! That's not funny!"

Wheezing she replied, "Relaaaax. I don't think you will ever see him again; my sister does not come around too much, she's busy running the family's business. So, chances of you ever crossing his path are 1 out of 10."

You hid in the pillow as the moaning came from the headache you were going through. What you did not expect was how quick you saw him again.

The library was calming, if there was any other place anyone would find you that was not the dance studio, you would be found in the library, reading. You slurped on your smoothie silently as your eyes scanned the words of the book, intrigued.

A rough bounce beside you made you gasp out loud, dropping your book onto the floor, your interruption grinning at you teasingly.

"Call me the best cupid to ever exist, I just got you a date!"

You rolled your eyes, picking up your book and settling back into the couch, your legs tucking under your behind, "No one asked, and no I am not going."

Aegon clicked his tongue, "I was not asking, I was informing you."

You looked up from your book, finding your best friend looking at you with mischief in his eyes, "Why would I do that? I am too busy anyways."

Aegon removed your book from your hands, putting it up in the air out of reach from your grabby hands that began to fight him.

"Exactly why! You are always practicing! You need a little spice, some drama in your life!"

You huffed as you gave up trying to get your book back, falling back to the couch and crossing your arms, "I am fine, thank you very much! I am fine being on my own, it does not interfere with my dance rehearsals, you know how much I need to nail this audition to be accepted to the ballet academy."

Aegon smiled softly, his blonde curls falling over his hazel, lilac eyes.

"I love you, y/n, I really do. But you need to get out there, you never know what you can come across with. Maybe it will be the best decision, maybe it will not. But the fact that you went through something new, is exciting. So please, enlighten yourself, go on one date."

Both of you stared at each other before you sighed, "Just one date? Then you'll leave me alone?"

He nodded rapidly, "Just one. Promise."

You leaned your head back, closing your eyes in thought, you figured, it wouldn't hurt to try having fun.

"Okay."

"Okay? Okay as in I will do it?"

You peeked an eye open finding Aegon bouncing on the couch in excitement, "Yes. I will do it."

He did a fist bump in the air as he cheered quietly, "I promise you won't regret it."

"Hopefully so."

Maybe it was a bad idea. The person who sat in the booth was in fact the person who you thought you were never going to see again. He sat with a sly smile. You were clenching your hands together in irritation, you found him incredibly annoying, yet he was so beautiful.

"Ah. I am so glad I came instead of Cregan."

You snapped your eyes up in anger, "What?!"

"Cregan was your blind date. Not me. He was just occupied sucking face with his ex-girl again that he did not come here, so I came. I wanted to see what prize I would get for being a best friend. I admit it is quite a treat for me."

Your hands itched to slap him but held back the anger that was filling your stomach, you almost wanted to cry but again, you held back. The male sitting in front of you crossed his arms, he was lean but muscular at the same time, he had very nice curls, and small but bright brown eyes that were easy to get lost in.

You were too into the drinks the night of Aegon's party to remember him but his lips... that you did remember. You blushed.

"Well," you cleared your throat, your eyes darting to the exit door of the restaurant, "this was fun, but I got to go for practice." You stood up, grabbing your bag and phone before a hand stopped you.

"Don't go. Look, I am sorry for being an ass. We can make use of the time and chat a little. If you don't want to stay after 10 minutes, I won't hold it against you. But I want to know you, I have seen you around."

You had two choices. Stay and get to know this guy or leave and swim in the shame of being stood up. You decided to hell with it, as you sat back down the booth slowly.

He smiled widely, his slight bunny teeth showing making you grin.

"My name is Jacaerys Velaryon, but you can call me Jace, everyone does anyways," he rambled, your lips quirked at the personality seeping out of him slowly. You introduced yourself, feeling a little flutter when he repeated your name softly.

The waiter came by to take your orders, Jacaerys was kind to ask what you wanted, recommending you the best choices. You felt more relaxed in his presence, he made it easy for you to open up. The food came in then, but the conversation never stopped.

He talked to you about his games, and his connection to your best friend. You found out he was in fact the co-captain of the soccer team. You heard a lot about the soccer team, how they hosted parties just to hook up with girls, or the famous captains that every girl wanted to make their boyfriends.

You grimaced at the thought you were now on the list of girls who he had dated. Shaking your head you continued to listen as you took small bites into your food, replying when asked a question.

"I have seen you. You dance very... pretty."

You choked on your pasta. His eyes widened as he reached out with a napkin whispering 'Oh shit, are you okay?' Your eyes watered but you gave a thumbs up.

"You've seen me dance?" You asked shyly.

"Have I seen you? Y/n, you are all they talk about in the halls. The next big performer of Westeros? You do not realize how much popularity you actually have do you? I have seen you once, practicing. You quite literally took my breath away."

Jacaerys muttered the last bit, he scratched his neck in shyness. You were practically red-faced; you did not dare to face him. His hand was placed on your right hand that was placed on the table, "I believe it though. You will make it big."

The flutters in your stomach made your toes curl, you wanted to hide and scream by the way he was staring at you. Jacaerys was grinning, his dimples showing slightly. He was beautiful.

"Thank... you?" you whispered, holding his hand now, watching him smile his hand now holding yours fully.

"You're welcome."

You did not want to admit it, but the date was in fact fun. You got to know him better as did he, you. You laughed at his attempt at making a whipped cream beard only for it to fall into his shirt and as he groaned, your heart fluttered. Jace, like he begged you to call him, was in fact the prime example of not judging a book by its cover.

When the check came, he quickly paid offering to take you home. In the car you sat listening to the radio in comfortable silence, you did not realize how much his hand twitched to hold yours.

"Well, we're here now."

You glanced at your home, silently cursing the time for going too quick. "Thank you for the ride, Jace. I had a lot of fun."

He smiled before it started to fade, you unbuckled your seatbelt slowly hoping that maybe... he would beg you to stay longer. He hesitated, your hand going for the door handle losing hope he was going to say something.

"Wait... y/n."

You reacted too fast for your liking, "Yes?"

"Meet me after the game? I'd like to take you somewhere."

You sat stunned before you stuttered, "As in... another date?"

His lips quirked to the side, the frat boy side slipping, "No. Just to hook up." That caused you to open your mouth to tell him off when he rolled his eyes, "Yes a date y/n."

You blushed; you did not know how much of his teasing you could take, "okay." You giggled into your hands as you closed your door, your cheek on fire holding a soft kiss made by the guy you never expected to make you feel so giddy inside. You hoped to see him again soon, and as you slept you dreamt of a curly, tall male with pretty freckles and brown eyes that looked like gems in the light.

You found yourself sitting in the bleachers surrounded by hordes of people. You had your ballet slippers on, your silk ballerina jumpsuit being covered by a skirt and a hoodie. You rushed after practice, sighing in relief when you only missed the first twenty minutes of the game.

Your classmates began looking at you not expecting to see you at a game. You never did come, Aegon begged you many times to go, to support Daeron who was also on the team. You always put practice as an excuse, but this time was different, Jace was playing, and he invited you.

You cheered whenever Jace scored, and as if he heard you, he would always throw his celebratory victories to you. Whether it was a wink or lame gun fingers. You jumped up and down as the team won their home game.

You waited by the bleachers, your feet dangling enjoying the chill of the night until you felt a jacket be dropped onto your shoulders. Jace sat next to you, his hair damped indicating his rushed shower. You sat in silence, his hands holding yours, with his thumbs caressing the front of your hands.

"Did you enjoy the game?"

You nodded, feeling too overwhelmed to speak.

"Let's make a deal yeah?" He leaned forward bending his head to face you clearly, your face growing hot when you spotted his bright brown eyes, from this angle you saw his freckles more clearly.

"Come to every single game of mine, and I will come to every dance recital, and rehearsal of yours. We will be each other's cheer squad."

Your heart grew warm, the appreciation and growing adoration for him becoming more intense. You only nodded, muttering a sincere promise as your hand reached towards his curls, brushing it to the side to avoid the droplets of water from his hair falling into his eyes. He grabbed your hand pulling you closer to him, your noses brushing.

You did not move as you did not want to seem desperate. You felt the minty breath of his, his hand holding yours as the other reached to cradle your face. You closed your eyes the moment you felt him move, your lips were wrapped with warmth, melting away every worry, growing the mass of butterflies that flew in your stomach. You met every movement of his lips, pressing yourself closer to him.

"Yo Jace! Quit making out! Are you coming to the party or not?" Cregan yelled from beneath the bleachers

You felt mutter a curse as you giggled. He pulled away still holding your hand, now intertwined with his. "Not tonight, I will be with my girl."

Cregan stopped, his jaw slacking, "Wh-at?" You even looked at him shocked. Jace only shrugged when he faced you before he looked towards his best friend, "Oh, and tell jack-ass Lannister that if I catch him sexualizing Y/n, I will beat his ass so bad he won't be able to play the playoffs."

Cregan only stood with his mouth open, shocked to see the one playboy who never wanted to commit to serious relationships in a deep make-out with a girl who he was serious about. Jace pulled you who was also stunned to his car, as both of you passed the still shocked Cregan, Jace patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks man."

That night you sat in the back seat of his car, deep in make-out sessions, going over ice cream cones and listening to both of your favorite bands. As you sat wrapped in his strong arms you decided to question him your doubts.

"Why did you tell Cregan that?"

Jace hummed and if like he said nothing wrong, he responded lightly, "That we were together?"

You nodded, "And Lannister? What's that about?"

You felt him tense before he let out a big breath, "I plan to make you, my girlfriend. I can't stop thinking about you since I've met you. Lannister..." he huffed, "... is a jackass. A douche with no respect for anyone, if you ever cross paths with him or any of his goonies, turn the other way, and let me know if he ever does anything, promise me."

You swore you felt your heart wanting to explode, you wanted to confess your true feelings as well but felt too cowardly to do so, you only responded with a soft 'okay.' He pressed a kiss on your head, pressing you closer to his chest, you closed your eyes, hearing the soft thumps of his heart.

You fell harder for Jacaerys Velaryon that night, but you will never know how much he already loved you from afar. How when he saw you the night of Aegon's party he was shocked to see you there with a pretty light floral dress - he just did not expect to get so hammered like you were. And you definitely will never find out how Aegon texted Cregan the night after to meet you for a date when Jacaerys himself was using Cregan's phone.

You will never find out how quickly he deleted the message and went to meet you instead because this was finally his chance to talk to you, since you never turned your eye to him every time, he tried on purposely to catch your eye. You will not find out how he always stood by the door of your dance rehearsals seeing you twirl, and bounce as if you were flying in the air so prettily.

Jacaerys Velaryon has loved you deeply for a long time and he planned to love you always, you were the person he wanted to take to his mother and proudly say he wanted to marry you.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

[nomazee]

“This is unnecessary.”

At Blade’s snide comment, you pull sharply at the strands of his hair in your hands. He grunts in displeasure before obediently quieting down, only a little scared of you scalping him if he annoys you any further. 

Perched behind him on the couch while he sits on the floor, your hands find themselves coming through his hair (long, smooth, untangled despite the fact that you’ve never seen him take a brush to it). Your efforts to part his hair with just your fingers are fruitless. His hair is thick on the top, so much so that you’re surprised his neck doesn’t constantly ache with the weight of it. Your hands pause, resting on the top of his head while you try and figure out how you’ll style it. 

“Be nice,” you warn, two hands on the sides of his head tilting it from side to side, treating him as a foam mannequin on which you can project your very thorough cosmetology skills. “Your fate is quite literally in my hands. I could knock you out and shave you bald very easily.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he says earnestly, and you can’t help the way your lips twinge into a smile. “This is clearly a hassle. My hair looks fine the way it is.”

“It does,” you admit, “but wouldn’t it be nice to try something new? And at no cost to you, aside from mild scalp pain. I’m good at hair. I did Kafka’s that one time.” You fail to mention that it was only one time for good reason. Kafka said that you handle hair the same way a lobster would handle a violin—that is, with clumsy hands and a clear lack of refinement. She had to hide every pair of scissors from you in fear that you'd give Silver Wolf microbangs.

As if on cue, your fingers get caught in an unexpected snag in Blade’s hair, and you pull and tug and yank as if expecting it to untangle on its own. Blade hisses and reaches a hand back to smack you on the wrist, turning around to glare at you. 

“Watch it,” he orders, gentle but firm. There’s not enough heat in his words to scare you, and his eyes are a particularly beautiful shade of copper in the dim, flickering light of this dingy lounge room. Whatever you say, beautiful, you think to yourself hysterically. 

After a few half-willed apologies from you and some nudges of encouragement, Blade finally relaxes enough to turn back around and tilt his head back in your lap, letting your fingers play with his hair nonsensically. A braid, you decide, would look quite nice on him. One long one down the back. If you had ribbon, you’d use some to tie his hair, but all you have is one of Kafka’s tragically thin hair ties. 

“It’s a nice color,” you comment absentmindedly, pretending that you can’t see the way Blade’s eyes have shut in contentment at your gentle prodding. “It changes in the light a little bit. It looks very blue now, but I’ve always thought it was black.” You section his hair off into three pieces, loosely laying one over the other over and over again. The aged gold ornament still hangs securely in his hair, and you don’t do anything to move it. It suits him. 

“It’s natural, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he tells you, the slightest twinge of a joke in his voice. It plays at your smile and at your heart, too. 

“You say that now, but you’ll be scrambling to come up with a lie when I find box dye in your bag.” 

He only hums in response, reluctantly enjoying the feeling of your hands on him—they’re gentle, and you can imagine he’s not quite used to this. It’s an addictive feeling, to have him at your mercy, even with just your hands in his hair. There’s trust, unspoken, lingering warmly in the air and settling like condensation on your skin. You could very easily do a number of things that would hurt Blade—kill him, almost. You’ve only ever thought of it a few times, and those were all a very long time ago. 

You don’t think of it that often anymore. All you’re paying attention to is Blade and the splitting ends of his hair and how nice he’d look with a red ribbon tied in. 

“We should go shopping,” you tell him, voice close to a whisper now. You’ve secured the end of his braid already, and your handiwork is admirable. The strands are neatly crossed over each other, uniform in size with each other as they taper down into the end. “Some clips for you would be nice.” Absentmindedly, you comb through the layers of hair near his face, digging your fingers gently into the sides of his face and scratching at his scalp. 

“And where exactly would we go shopping? We’re not exactly upstanding members of society in some people’s eyes.” 

“Then I’ll make clips for you,” you say, a naive kind of dedication in your tone. “I used to work with metal, a little bit. I could make jewelry. Ornaments for your hair. I’ll put a ribbon in next time.” 

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” Blade asks doubtfully, in steep contrast with the way he lets your hands roam along his scalp, and the way his head leans back into you as if he’s comfortable. 

“You’re a loyal customer,” you quip, “you’d never let somebody else do your hair when you have me as a dedicated stylist.” 

“I’m your only customer.” 

“I know,” and in a moment of weakness—because at the end of the day that’s what you are, weak, malleable and moveable when you’re with Blade like this—you lean down just a little bit, pressing a stupid clumsy kiss on the crown of his head. Your fingers trail down to trace the bumps of the braid, the divots and grooves in it, made by your hands, and yours alone. “That just means I can put all my effort towards you alone.” 

“You shouldn’t.” And he means it when he says that, and it hurts you, puts a sickly pang in your chest that you want to reach for and tear out before it grows into something worse. 

“But I will,” you tell him. Blade is stubborn, but not stubborn enough to keep it up. Not now, not here, not when the overhead lights are flickering and making his hair look just a little bluer, illuminating the warmer ends of his hair, glinting off the metal ornament still clipped into it. He rests between your hands, still sitting on the cold floor, pretending that he isn’t falling asleep with you like the fool he secretly is.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

(pssst!!! send me a msg or fill out the form in my navi to be added to the taglist!!!)

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[rafesfavgirl]

do you enjoy being hurt? — r. cameron

a little self-indulgent bc why do the people in my life always act up when i'm already stressed over finals 🙃

��� baby, i just don't get it do you enjoy being hurt? ❞

pairing: bsf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after another break up with your boyfriend, rafe finds you.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: reader's in a toxic relationship, overprotective!rafe, insecure!reader, a little fluff, angst

"y/n, what the hell?" rafe comes bursting through your bedroom door without warning, and you quickly wipe away the tears that have been caused by your boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend—who had just broken up with you. again. "i've been-"

the look of frustration on his face switches to one of concern in a single second, rushing to crouch down beside you sitting down on the floor, leaning back against your bed. "woah, woah, woah," he says, picking your face up in his hands and making you look at him. "why you crying?"

"it's nothing, rafe," you push his hands off your face and stand up to look at yourself in your vanity mirror. pieces of your hair were sticking to your cheek from dried up tears, and your eyes were bloodshot red and puffy.

"it's not nothing," he argues, looking at you through the mirror. "you're fucking crying, y/n! what happened?" his concern slowly morphs into anger, frustrated at the fact that you wouldn't tell him anything. "it was evan, wasn't it?" he spat, beginning to pace around your room in an attempt to calm himself down. 

"that fucking motherfucker," he muttered, not being able to stop the words that fall out of his mouth. "what'd he say or do now? fuck another bitch? tell you you're not hot enough for him? accuse you of cheating? i swear to god y/n, if-"

when he realizes that you've broken down again, tears flowing out of your eyes as you leaned your hands on the vanity and stared down at it, he stops and rushes to your side.

"i'm sorry," his voice is soft now, a hand gently coming across the small of your back as a sob fell from your mouth and tears continued to trail down your cheeks. "i didn't mean to— hey. hey," he turns you around, his big arms wrapping around you in a comforting hug.

your sobs and sniffles only double in amount, as you melt into him and cry against his chest. "why am i like this, rafe?"

"shhh, shhh," he caresses your hair with his hand and rests his chin on top of your head. "it's okay."

"no, it's not okay," you reply, wiping at your tears. "i know that, i just don't-"

"hey, hey, hey," rafe separates himself form you, just enough to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs wiping at your tears. "just tell me what happened, a'ight? can you do that?"

sniffling and wiping at your nose, you nod at him, and he pulls away so you can both move to sit on the bed.

you pull your knees close to you chest, while rafe waits for you to speak. "he broke up with me… again," you say. "told me i wasn't doing enough, that i didn't benefit him in anyway. that there were other girls who did more for him, who were better." you just stare at the ground, refusing to look at him, knowing that the second you did, you'd break again.

rafe brings a hand up to rub his chin, heat rising in chest as a scoff left his mouth. that motherfucker.

"do you think he's right?" when you finally let your watery eyes meet his, the band that kept him in control snapped.

"oh fuck no," he immediately stands from the bed and charges towards the door. "i'm gonna give that son of a bitch-"

you scramble to your feet and follow him, stopping right in front of him to keep him from going any further. "rafe, no," you say, placing a hand on his heaving chest. "you can't."

"fuck you mean, i can't?" he asks, fuming. "that idiot made you cry. and not only that, but he made you feel as if you weren't good enough for him. you can't just tell me something like that and expect me to-"

"please," you plead, eyes only on his. "if you say something to him, it's only gonna make it worse. i don't want him to-"

"to what?" rafe cuts you off, his muscles tensing. "has he laid a hand on you?"

"not on purpose," you mumbled.

"what?" rafe asks through gritted teeth.

"we were both really mad," you shrug, no longer meeting his eyes. "i got pissed that he just started saying all that shit to me so i told him to calm the fuck down and got in his way so…"

"so… what?" you could tell by the sound of his voice that the next words you spoke could either have him snap or keep it together.

"look, it doesn't even matter, alright?" you push past him and head back into your room.

"the fuck you mean it doesn't matter?" he immediately follows after you, gently grabbing your wrist to make you look at him. "hey, look at me. did he touch you?"

cowering under his strong gaze, you mumble quietly. "it was an accident."

seething, his posture straightens and his hand drops from your wrist. "i'll see you later."

he turns on his heel without letting you get another word in and walks out of your room.

against your better judgment, and afraid of what he might do, you follow him down the hall and down the stairs.

"rafe," you call after him, but he ignores you and proceeds towards the foyer. "rafe, wait."

you jog to catch up and walk ahead of him, stopping him in his tracks by placing a hand against his hard, heaving chest. "where are you going?"

"get out of my way, y/n," he tells you, refusing to have his angry eyes meet yours.

if you thought he would just stand by while you told him your boyfriend "accidentally" laid a hand on you, you obviously didn't know him at all.

"where are you going?" you repeat yourself, and he finally looks at you.

"where do you think i'm going?"

you shake your head at him, your shoulders going limp. "please don't."

"for fuck's sake," he mutters under his breath and turns away from you to run a frustrated hand across his buzzed head. "why are you defending him?"

you wince at the tone of his voice, and shrug. "i'm not. it’s just-“

“just what?” he stops pacing and closes the distance between the two of you, taking both your hands in his. “i mean seriously, y/n. why do you stay with him? help me understand.”

looking into his pleading eyes, you couldn’t do much more than shrug. “i don’t know.”

and it was true. maybe you’d gotten so used to the toxicity that it was normal to you now. how fucked up is that?

a scoff leaves his mouth as he glances down and fiddles with your fingers, but it wasn’t bitter or disappointed. you really couldn’t quite place it.

“i just… i’ve gotten so used to it,” you admit. “i don’t know anything else.”

“don’t you know you deserve better?” his eyes meet yours again, but they’re no longer angry or searching for answers. they’re just sad.

you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cross your mind. every time your “boyfriend” had broken up with you, you swore to yourself it was the last time. that you couldn’t let him keep treating you the way he did, because he’d only take advantage. but that was much easier said than done.

“i’m not perfect, rafe,” you shrug, tears threatening to line up against your bottom waterline. “and love isn’t either.”

“but it shouldn’t hurt,” he tells you. “i mean, is this what you really want for yourself? some guy who constantly belittles you and makes you feel as if you’re not enough for him?”

“but what if he’s right?” you ask, causing rafe’s heart to shatter a little. he couldn’t believe that you, of all people, could really buy into that shit. you’d always been so perfect in his eyes. “what if-“

“oh, doll,” he drops one of your hands to caress your cheek. “there are so many guys out there who’d kill to just get an hour of your time.”

you lean into his touch without even thinking about it. “you think so?”

“i know so,” he nods, thumb swiping under your eye to wipe a new tear away. “let him go.”

this isn't even the draft i was suppose to finish but fuck it, we ball. this was the one that my creative juices wanted to write. look out for that ex-bf!rafe smut soon tho 🌝

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

tags: @chiaraanatra @ijustwanttoreadlols @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @solanathascientst @10ava01 @werewhatkilledthedinosaurs @void21 @groovycass @azrielsgirll @rroslitas @crvptidgf @star-girl-05 @redhead1180 @shadyshadyy @prettypimpcess12 @emotionsmgcbabe @outerbankspov @letmeintourheart @gublerstylesobrien1238 @deadgirlwalkingirl @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @jul1ettt @ihe4rttwd @samkickikc @ramblingsofadramastudent @maibelitaaura @vilentia @lin15 @tracymbcm @nadloves @mimipanini09 @yevawxp @rubixgsworld @magnificantmermaid @fastlovela @whosyourmommy69 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @dasguccier @drewsphswife @sunny1616 @iloveallmyboys @bugballer @rlalliehayes @mfdoomdickrider @theoraekenslover @ymnizuh @prettypimpcess12 @cauqhtz @obxdude

@baniazxxx @hangmanscoming @lanabrock @kyleimd @buckylaststraw

[thatfreshi]

Can I request Astarion x reader and he drinks from u when your standing and your legs buckle and you start to collapse from the blood loss but he catches you and Carries you to your bedroll and takes care of you?

Forgive me if it's rough, still trying to figure out the speech patterns!

Recommended Song: Ivy - SALES

It usually wasn’t often that Astarion asked to feed on you. Sadly, resources have been scarce, wild animals included. Anytime Lae’zel is out scouting she tries to bring something back for him, but to no avail. Recently, he had been asking quite often, and there is always an air of guilt in his question. 

“I’m sorry to ask my love, I just worry the others will see me differently, if I were to feed on one of them.”

It’s not as if your other companions aren’t aware of his situation, or the fact that you have to satiate him every once in a while. You think he simply feels like a burden, having to ask people for the very thing that sustains him. He just feels a little less like a burden when he asks you.

“Of course dear, no need to be sorry.”

You’ve gotten used to how this goes, as you’ve been travelling together for quite some time, and you and Astarion got smitten rather quickly. He’s always quite gentle, even if it does hurt at first. Instead of sitting down however, you continue working on stitching up a piece of your sleep-wear. With powerful magic from the likes of Gale and Shadowheart, you think such minute things could be fixed easily, but alas, they still require a realistic solution.

While you’re busy putting to work the simple stitch he taught you, Astarion moves to drink, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Many would think that the act of being drained of your own blood would be, well, terrifying, but something about it is quite intimate, heartwarming even. You don’t even really think about how your veins start running cold, how you start to feel much worse than normal. Then, you’re on the ground, needle and thread along with you. 

“Darling! I apologize, I should’ve had you lie down first, I should’ve-” 

He cuts off his own words as he scrambles to think. You’re still not fully there, but you want to tell him you’re fine. Sadly, eyes can’t always tell all. Even your parasite seems too drained to connect with him. When you regain some of your senses, you see that Astarion has brought you back to your bedroll, muttering something to himself, pacing the tent.

“I could’ve waited, I would’ve been fine. I-”

He pauses, realizing you’ve started to stir.

“Tav, darling, are you alright?”

You try sitting up, and he quickly moves to support your back, wrapping his arm around you waist.

“Yeah… yeah I’m okay.”

“I apologize, I knew it was a risk to feed on you again so soon. I put you in a terrible position, asking you like that.”

You reach to put your hand over his.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve become so nonchalant about it, I should’ve been much more considerate of the circumstances.”

He’s silent, trying to find another way to blame himself. The truth is, both of you were quite tired from the recent adventuring, and weren’t thinking straight. 

“I’ll tell them all we should stay at camp for another day. Or perhaps they can journey back to the Grove and we can stay for another evening.”

You tighten your grasp on his hand until he finally make eye contact with you.

“Astarion, it’s fine, truly. I’ll be fine tomorrow, come morning.”

You smile at him, despite the nausea caught in your throat. He feels bad enough, no use in making it worse. 

“Here, come lie with me.”

You meet the ground once again, and he joins you shortly after. He still has that look, that dreary mist across his eyes. Instead of trying to tell him in words, you nestle into his side, wrapping yourself around him, a way of saying ‘I still love you, no matter what.’ He leaves a kiss on your forehead, and finally lets the tension go. You close your eyes soon after, exhausted. Astarion never tells you, but he stayed awake and by your side the entire night, unmoving, just in case.

[alwaysmoncheri]

summary: you wake up in major john egan’s bed and remember he drunkenly kissed you the night prior—you wonder what that means for your relationship.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of sex, fluff, kissing, confessions, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drunkenness, cuteness, but also cheesiness, 1k words

<3

It’s quiet when you wake, the sun peaks through the curtains, creating a ray of light that just misses your face. The sheets are comfortable, warm with your own body heat, but they’re not yours. You sit up with a start, the realization as to where you are washing over you. You were in Major John Egan’s bed, oh my god, what were you thinking? You whip your head around, desperately searching for the man you spent the night with. Throwing one of the pillows off the bed, you hear a quiet grunt from the floor, causing you to scramble over to the edge of the bed. Carefully leaning over with a cautious gaze, you see Bucky laying on the ground, a blanket half covering his bare torso and the pillow you previously threw next to him. Heat rises to your cheeks as your eyes find his. His arms are behind his head and there’s an agonizingly charming smile on his face as he looks back at you.

“Good morning.” Bucky’s voice reaches your ears and you feel weak. Your lips part and you draw in a nervous breath, blinking a few too many times, you struggle to gather your thoughts before finally managing to speak.

“You’re on the floor.” you state simply, chasating yourself for the obvious observation.

“It appears so, yes.” Bucky responds with a hint of amusement in his tone, his smile grows wider and you grow more nervous under his gaze, so you look away.

“You don’t need to be.” you offer softly, a gentle invitation hanging in the air as you lean back onto the plush comfort of the bed. Bucky, catching the subtle implication in your words, lifts himself onto his elbows, his expression curious. With a simple nod, you confirm your desire for him to join you on the bed.

Without a word, Bucky rises, his movements fluid and controlled, as he gathers the scattered pillows and blanket, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet room. With practiced ease, he arranges them on the bed before settling himself beside you, his presence a comforting weight against the mattress. As he sits next to you, the warmth of his body radiates, drawing you closer. You catch the scent of his cologne, a subtle blend of musk and cedarwood, mingling with the faint aroma of lingering alcohol from the night before. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, a silent invitation for you to move closer. You shift, your shoulder brushing against his as you settle into a comfortable position beside him.

For a moment the two of you sit in silence, the memories of what happened last night weighing on your conscious. You’re overwhelmed, confused, and attempting to put the pieces together.

“You were drunk.” you remind him, the words a hesitant admission of the truth. “I was drunk.”

“That is also true,” Bucky acknowledges with a nod, his gaze softening as he senses the rising panic in your voice. Your breath quickens, and your eyes widen, “Look, honey—” Bucky begins, his voice gentle and reassuring, but before he can finish, your words tumble out in a rush of desperation.

“Oh my god.” you gasp, leaning closer to Bucky, your voice barely above a whisper as you say your next few words, “Did we have sex?”

Bucky's laughter fills the air, a warm, affectionate sound that doesn't quite match the gravity of the situation. Your reaction is immediate, confusion and annoyance contort your features.

“It's not funny,” you insist, your voice tinged with frustration as you search his expression for answers.

“Honestly, honey, I couldn’t tell you.” Bucky replies with a shrug, his demeanor nonchalant despite your obvious distress.

“John,” you whine, the plea in your voice betraying your need for him to be serious and clarity of the situation. As your words dissolve into incoherent mumbles, Bucky reaches out, his hand gently squeezing yours in a gesture of reassurance.

“Hey, I’m sure nothing happened,” he interjects, making an attempt to alleviate your worries, “if we had sex, you probably wouldn’t be wearing anything right now.” Bucky adds, with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows and a smirk.

The implications of his words send a shiver down your spine, mingling with the warmth of his touch as you recall the kiss shared between the two of you the night before, “You kissed me last night.” you say with a hint of uncertainty, searching his face for confirmation.

“And you didn’t stop me.” Bucky counters, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes.

“Why would I?” you admit softly, “You’re all I think about.”

Bucky's smiles, that adorable smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You watch as his gaze flickers to your lips and back up to your eyes. A giggle bubbles up from your throat, a nervous sound expressing your uncertainty of the moment.

“What?” you ask in response to Bucky’s wordless expression. Your heart pounds in your chest as he reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, before leaning in to whisper.

“I’m so in love with you.” Bucky confesses in your ear before leaning back with a wide smile, eager to see your reaction. A smile spreads across your face and you turn to slowly wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“If you don’t kiss me—”

Before you can finish, Bucky leans in, closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. A hand holds your cheek, while the other rests on your waist, pulling you closer. He kisses you like he needs you and he knows he does. You melt into his touch, surrendering to the warmth and intensity of the kiss. Before you know it, you're straddling his lap, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss.

“I love you more.” you murmur against his lips when you pull away and Bucky chuckles, his airy laugh fanning across your face.

“That’s not possible, honey.” he replies, his voice filled with adoration as he leans his forehead against yours.

“Why don’t you kiss me again and find out?” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky says with a grin before capturing your lips once more, sealing your love in a sweet, lingering kiss.

<3

masterlist . john "bucky" egan masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[moon7jay]

i can't stop thinking about sleeveless jungwon 😭 just imagine you keep touching his biceps and he's just like "let me show you how else it can work"

This ask reminded me of this jungwon fr

You honestly couldn't keep your hands to yourself, sliding closer to your boyfriend on the couch, biting your lower lip as your mouth watered looking at his arms. He was busy talking to someone on the phone but you honestly couldn't care less about what he was talking about, your curious fingers running over his muscles. His head whips to the side at your touch, arching an eye brow at your questionable behavior. You give him a shy smile and squeeze his bicep, scooting closer to his body more, so that you could give him a kiss on his muscles, running your soft lips on his hard and lean arm. Jungwon ends the call and looks at you with stern eyes

"What r u trying to do" He asks when u refuse to detach your lips from his arm.

"Wanna bite" you whisper, cheeks red, voice barely audible.

"Come again? " he smirks at how adorable you are like this

You look into his eyes and run your fingers over his bicep "I said I wanna bite you"

you drive him absolutely crazy.

"Oh yeah? Say I let u take a bite but what am I getting in return baby? " he asks kissing your warm cheek,eyes scanning your plush thighs and the way your tank top fell off exposing your right shoulder, nipples poking through the thin fabric, already imagining all the ways he was gonna take your sinful body

"Anything" you reply impatiently, squeezing your thighs to fend off your increasing arousal. His eyes darken in lust as he notices that.

He moves to lay you on your back as he hovers over you, resting his forehead against yours, body pressing fully into you, biting your lower lip making you moan and squirm beneath him. His desperate hands reach between your legs, cursing under his breath at the wetness he finds there

"Gonna take this piece of heaven u keep between your legs then baby, u will give it to me yeah? "

You nod vigorously, doe eyes staring up at him as he quickly rips off your panties, never breaking eye contact. In the same breath you hear the sound of his zipper opening, both of your breaths heavy as he impatiently guides his cock between your legs, thrusting inside in one go. You scream in slight pain at the sudden intrusion while he groans in satisfaction of feeling your tight gummy walls around his hard dick. He throws his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thrusts in and out of you impatiently, your moans of pleasure and the squelching sounds of your tight pussy turning him harder inside of you.

"Won-oh my god s-slow down" You whimper as he bends you in half, your ankles dangling over his shoulders, he's panting as he hits your cervix mercilessly, your scrambling hands resting on his biceps, digging your nails into the hard muscle as u get lost in the pleasure.

He hisses at the sting your nails cause and bends over to kiss you messily

"Hurt me baby come on" he pants into your mouth and you dig your nails harder into his arms, making him groan, his hips rutting faster into your womb. You stick your tongue out and he's quick to suck it into his mouth, the room filling up with filthy noises as you both get lost in each other's bodies.

You lift your hips up, meeting his each thrust halfway, chasing your highs desperately

"pussy so good baby, tight as fuck" He moans, hips stuttering as his thrusts become erratic

"I-im close" you whimper at a particularly harder thrust, the pace at which he's hitting your cervix making you delirious

"Bite me baby" He whispers into your mouth, and you turn your head to dig your teeth into his bicep

"Oh fuck yeah" He groans, giving one last thrust into your swollen pussy as you both reach your highs together, jungwon still thrusting into your wet snatch just to overstimulate his dick, sex so good you don't even notice the bruises forming on his arms from your nails and teeth until later that day.

Jungwon taking you again on the kitchen counter when you mention them. Asking u to bite him harder. What can he say, he's just a man, a whipped man for you.

[papipedroo]

Newcomer (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Two of Whiskey Tears.

Rated: Angst | Violence | Fluff | Suggestive | Age Gap | Mentions of Assault | Language

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

You were the first one up. It has always been that way with your quiet steps and peaceful mornings filled with silence.

Your favorite part of your new home was your kitchen free from broken cabinets and rusted faucets. Curtesy to Joel of course. It wasn’t terribly warn down when we first moved in, some dusty bedding, peeled wallpaper throughout the house, but the kitchen had it worse. You mentioned it once to Joel, wondering how the two of you could bring this kitchen to life. A place where you felt most at peace. You were contempt with what you had of course, working around it as you cooked for your family.

Until one day you walked into your house to find Joel replacing them with ones the he had carved and pieced together himself.

You remember crying and him telling you not to. But how could you not? When the man you hopelessly love does something like that for you?

Joel only knew how to bqq something and Ellie was too impatient to follow directions and so since the beginning you were the designated cook and you were proud of it too.

So to find someone in your kitchen banging your precious cabinets and disrupting the system you had made… Well your ears were practically turn red and you swore if anyone would look close enough there would be steam coming out.

But you were an adult person and an adult handles everything with a sense of calm… Right?

“I’m sorry but what are you doing?” You asked as you stood in front of the island counter to keep yourself from pouncing on her.

Heather turned around with a startled jump, “Oh! Good morning! Don’t mind me, I’m just making breakfast.”

“Breakfast is my thing. Cooking for my family is my thing.” You stated clearly with a sense of calm.

I think Joel would be impressed that I haven’t stabbed this lady yet. I’m being an adult. That’s what he wanted right?

“Well I think I can handle the cooking today. It’s the least I can do.” She stated with an edge to her tone.

Stay calm. Be an adult.

You took in a sharp breath and smile, “Being as you are a guest in my home, the least you can do is take a seat and let me cook in my kitchen.”

You watched the way she dug her nails into her skin before giving you a sharp nod, “Alright. Then cook.”

“Gladly.” You muttered before making yourself at home and cooking Joel and Ellie’s favorites.

Pancakes for Ellie and scrambled eggs with deer bacon for Joel. You didn’t have pigs for regular bacon and so this was the next best thing in the apocalypse, that and Joel’s famous deer jerky.

You easily fell into your routine, humming a tune that you created for Ellie one night when she was scared. You didn’t care how Heather sat at the island and watched you like a hawk. You did what you did best. You provided for your family.

While the last bits of deer bacon was frying, you started on making the coffee before set the table with the plates and food already prepared. You also made sure to add an extra plate even if you didn’t want to.

But you were going to prove to Joel that you were an adult.

The last item left in the kitchen was the deer bacon and as you piled it on a plate you heard Joel’s drawl muttering a good morning and Ellie’s loud yawn in the dining room.

You smiled and filled a mug of coffee for Joel, holding it in one hand while you held the plate of deer bacon in the other.

“You made this?” Joel asked looking at Heather.

“I did! I wasn’t sure what you usually eat for breakfast so I asked your other daughter and she told me pancakes, eggs, and deer bacon is the perfect morning breakfast for everyone.” Heather explained as if it actually happened, she would be convincing to anyone else… Anyone who wasn’t Ellie that is.

Ellie’s brows furrowed as she stared at the table. It was plated exactly how you would plate it for them each morning. It didn’t look new and Ellie knew that…

“She did?” Ellie finally asked skeptically.

“Yep!” Heather smiled without a hint of guilt.

The way that Heather said such a lie with ease made your blood boil as you stepped into the dining room with a glare directed towards the officially unwelcome newcomer.

“Oh! Thank you for being a dear and getting those for me, I couldn’t carry everything here on my own.” A sweet smile was planted on Heather’s face, on that made you scowl.

Who says I have to be calm to be an adult?

You took three steps to the table, standing directly between where she was sitting in your seat once again. You tossed the plate of deer bacon down in front of Joel with a thud before slamming your hand down resonating a loud smack against the wood, coffee mug held tightly in the other hand.

“What the hell.” Joel exasperated at watching you loose your temper.

You didn’t care about Joel’s opinion of you. Not right now and not with this conniving witch in front of you. Your fury was centered around the horrid lies spilling out of the temptress mouth.

“First of all, I am Not his daughter.” I seethed lowly, “Second. You better tell them the truth before I cram these pieces of deer bacon that I cooked not you, down your throat you lying piece of—”

“Enough!” Joel’s voice boomed causing you to steady your hand to keep from spilling his coffee.

Your heater gaze quickly flickered to Joel who seemed angry, but not at the person you thought he would be angry with… No. his anger was directed towards you.

“Who gives a fuck who made breakfast. Will you stop causing a scene so early in the morning and just sit down?” Joel sighed.

His sigh was clearly directed towards you and you were angry that he couldn’t see whatever game Heather was trying to play.

“Are you serious? She is clearly lying to you. How are you not more pissed off about this?” You yelled.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry if I caused any trouble. If it will make you feel better, I won’t make breakfast again from now on.” Heather’s voice sounded so fragile that you wanted to smother her with a pillow.

“Oh piss off!” You turned towards her, ready to give her a piece of your mind.

“Excuse me? I much older than you—” She began and you cut her off.

“Clearly.” You scoffed.

“Dear I’m just trying to help. Maybe your too young to understand that respecting your elders is important so please— Ouch!” She yelled out in pain.

It all happened so fast. One minute she was talking and the next second you felt a sharp pain in your ankle causing you to spill Joel’s coffee on her arm.

Ellie’s eyes widened, “Shit.”

“Are you kidding me right now!” Joel’s voice boomed as got up from his chair.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say and apparently Joel didn’t want to hear it because he roughly shoved you out of the way to check on Heather.

His shoved made you spill the rest of the coffee over your hands causing you to hiss out in pain.

“Are you okay?” Ellie quickly jumped out of her seat to check on me.

“Yes… Yes. I’m fine. I— I don’t know what happened.” You said quickly as Ellie took the cup from you, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I’m going to go get some ice.” She said as she quickly rushed off into the kitchen.

“Ow! Ow ow ow. It hurts Joel.” Heather had tears in her eyes and he cleaned off her arm with a towel.

“I’m sorry… I really didn’t.” You weren’t even sure why you were apologizing, but you felt that Joel would be even more pissed at you if your didn’t.

“You— I can’t believe you— you reckless over excessive little girl.” Joel seethed at you, “Did you know she was constantly burned by the raiders that held her hostage? No. Of course you fucking didn’t.”

Ellie stepped in at the moment with ice wrapped in a towel. Joel took it out of her hands and motioned to the door.

“Tommy’s waiting for you by the barn to talk you about your new job Ellie.” Joel grunted yet his glare never left your face, “You should go.”

Ellie looked over to you in concern, “But—”

You shook your head, “It’s okay, go. I’m fine. I promise.”

Ellie left soon after and an unnerving silence between you and Joel filled the air. Your hands welre turning red because the ice that you needed was currently being used for Heather’s arm. You felt too ashamed to get another one and too scared to wonder if she had actually kicked you.

You watched Joel, an aching feeling settling in your chest at the way he was attentive to her. The way he held her gently and asked her if her arm was still hurting while you stood behind him cradling your own wounded hands. That made tears draw to your eyes.

“Joel—” You tried to call out to him, but he didn’t want to hear any of it.

“You can’t just throw a fucking tantrum whenever you want… God… I didn’t think you were this much of a brat.” He shook his head.

That left a sharp feeling in your chest as your eyes casted down to the floor in shame.

“Leave.” Joel muttered and when you didn’t move he raised his voice, “Fucking get out of my sight right now!”

That had you running up the stairs and slamming the door to his room. Sobs wracked through your body as you slid to the floor, your blistering hands long forgot as tried to calm yourself down.

“He thinks I did all of this on purpose? How could he believe her over me? …Why won’t he believe me?” You whispered into the silence.

That sinking feeling however didn’t leave your chest. The deep hatred that you felt towards a woman you’ve barely known for two days was beginning to boil and you just knew she was up to something.

You angrily wiped away your tears and changed into some warmer clothes. You didn’t care about the puffiness under your eyes or your red nose, you could blame that on the weather. After you finished getting ready you went downstairs to leave the house and start your day at work.

It was your turn to help string up some lights anyways so that made it easier to get out of the house. You could only hope that things would change before the upcoming holiday, Winter’s Hollow. A day that everyone could celebrate.

“Where you going?” Joel’s asked from behind you.

You ignored him as you slipped in your boots.

“Your hands are red…” He continued and you turned away from him so he couldn’t see them anymore.

He let out a deep sigh, “Firefly please.”

“Don’t call me that.” You finally grumbled, “Not right now.”

“You’re hurt.” He pressed.

You looked up at him with a glare as you slipped on some gloves, “Like you care. You’re the one who did it.”

“I…” He looked directly at you, “Didn’t realize I hurt you.”

His expression was one of worry and guilt. Two emotions that were very rarely shown on Joel’s face in front of anyone except for you, Ellie, or Tommy. You almost crumbled… Almost.

“Joel!” Heather called from the dining room and his head immediately turned towards her direction.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket remembering why you were leaving in the first place.

“Have fun with your new girl.” You swung the door open and left.

***

“Morning.” Maria waved you over to her.

She stood by a box of lights and a lamp post.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” She teased and usually she would get a snarky reply and a smile from you, but when you remained quiet she began to worry.

“Hey… Are you okay?” She asked and placed a hand on your arm and when you fully looked at her she knew, “You’re definitely not okay. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You tried to say, but she gave you an unimpressed look.

She raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, “Something is. Your nose is red and you’ve clearly been crying.”

“It’s just the cold, I’m fine.” You tried to explain, but she wasn’t having any of it.

Maria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “Like hell you are.”

You sighed, “Joel and I got into an argument.”

“Over what?” Maria asked.

She was concerned of course. In the three months that you and Joel have lived here she has never heard you and Joel argue.

“Heather.” You said her name as if it were poison.

“Oh…” She nodded her head slowly, now beginning to understand the story, “It’s going that bad huh?”

“He’s been taking her side over everything these past two days and he lets her kiss his cheek and I don’t… Fuck I hate it. And she lied this morning about cooking breakfast and I swear she kicked me or something. I didn’t mean to spill coffee on her and Joel got… He got so angry.” Tears welled up in your eyes, “I didn’t mean to make him angry.” You cried.

Maria pulled you into a hug and you clung to her like a lifeline. She was slowly starting to grow on you as these past couple of months passed by.

“I’m sorry, that must be so stressful.” Maria tried her best to calm you down.

“I was so worried about him when he disappeared. I couldn’t even sleep without checking the driveway every hour to see if he was walking up those damn steps and now it hasn’t even been a week and it’s like he replaced me.” You sobbed.

“I didn’t realize they were that close…” Maria’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to loose you, you were the closest thing to a sister-in-law she’s ever had, “I’ll talk to Tommy. See if there’s a house available that she can live in. Maybe it’s just a savior complex thing and he feels like because he saved her, now he’s indebted to her or something.”

You sniffled into her shoulder, “Thanks.” Your voice was muffled in her jacket, “I don’t want to be that person, but I think she’s a real bitch.”

Maria chuckled, “Seems like Joel is too.”

You pulled away from her hug, “He said it was because of our age… That it wasn’t right to be together.”

“Well that’s bullshit otherwise he wouldn’t have been with you in the first place.” Maria scoffed.

“Do you think there’s more to what he’s telling me?” You wondered and honestly you wouldn’t put it against Joel if he was.

“It’s Joel we’re talking about, of course there is.” Maria shook her head and you watched as she reached down to grab some of the lights, “The Miller brothers are as hard to get close too. I swear there one of those endless jawbreakers.”

“Jawbreakers?” You asked her in confusion.

“It’s like a candy that you have to continuously lick until you reach the center. I’ll find one for you one day.” She said and you couldn’t help, but snicker.

“That’s quite an analogy.” Your snicker grew into a laugh and Maria joined you.

She nudged your arm, “Oh shut up and help this pregnant woman with these lights.”

“Yes ma’am.” You laughed as you reached into the box.

Maria made it easy for you to take your mind off Joel. It was as if she had a secret spell to make you forget your worries. I guess that’s what all good friends do.

“Phew!” Maria wiped her hands in her jeans as you finished hanging up a few more lights, “I think it’s about time for dinner, don’t you think?”

You nodded your head as you stepped down from the ladder, “I’m pretty sure I can eat an entire pot of stew right now.” You said causing Maria to laugh.

“Well as long as you share then I’m cool with that. Lets go.” She said and the two of you made your way to the lodge to grab some lunch.

“You know what I’m really craving?” Maria said as the two of you stepped into the small restaurant bar, “Pickles and ice cream.”

You raised an eyebrow at her in question, “Pickles and ice cream? That sounds…”

“Absolutely amazing I know.” She was practically drooling at the craving, “One day we’ll have ice cream and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

“Over here!” You suddenly heard Ellie yell and the two of you turned to find her, Tommy, and Joel already sitting down at a booth.

You were relieved to not see Heather with them. You don’t think you’re ready to see her coming up to Joel right now. The two of you quickly made your way over.

Before you can even say hello Maria smacked Joel on the back of his head.

“Ow…” He grumbled as he rubbed his head, “What was that for?”

“You know what.” She said before taking her designated seat beside her husband.

Tommy gave his wife a confused look to which she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

You then took your designated seat beside Joel, a small smile on your face from Maria’s protective side.

Maria sat by Tommy on one side of the booth with you by Joel with Ellie on his right, closest to the window on the other side of the booth.

“Well it took you girls long enough to get here.” Tommy joked as he wrapped an arm around Maria to warm her up, “We were waiting to surprise you both with dinner.”

“Hey the lights can’t hang themselves.” Maria replied, but fell into his embrace, “But thank you for waiting for us.”

You watched the two with longing wishing that Joel would treat you that way, but all you received was his arm pressing into yours.

“Tell them about the horses Ellie. I swear this girl is going to be a cowgirl one day.” Tommy chuckled.

“You would not believe the day I have had!” Ellie practically shouted as she launched into her story.

You listened, laughing at most parts as her story slowly became over exaggerated, but you loved every second of it.

It was halfway through her story about how she threw herself over a fence when you felt the warmth of his hand slide over yours. Your breath quickened at his touch and the way you were suddenly hyper aware of his breath hot on your ear.

“How is your hand?” He asked barely above a whisper as to not draw attention to the both of you.

“I think I’m safe from amputation.” You jokingly said to slow the way your heart was racing.

He ran his thumb along the back of your hand muttering a, “Hm..”

The moment was nice, something that you have missed deeply from him these past few months.

“Joel…” You spoke his name softly and when his attention was solely on you, you spoke up, “I—”

“Sorry I’m late!” A shrill voice made your entire body cringe.

You didn’t turn to greet her as Maria and Tommy spoke light hello’s and Joel said no worries.

“I didn’t know you were invited.” Ellie stated with that attitude of hers and it made you snort in amusement.

“Joel invited me. To celebrate my first day at work here.” Heather explained with a smile that you knew was directed towards Joel.

“Um… Where can I sit?” She asked and her gaze fell on Joel’s again as if he would immediately get up.

As if you would let him.

You squeezed his hand just as he was about to respond. Maria saw the desperation in your eyes and she quickly spoke up instead.

“You can sit on our side.” Maria said as she nudged Tommy to scoot down the booth before she follow suit.

Heather looked less than pleased at not being able to sit by Joel, but accepted the off nonetheless with a warm smile.

Ellie carried on with her interrupted story with Maria listening intently. Your hand relaxed its grip on Joel’s while his grip in turn tightened around your hand. You knew he felt awful about this morning and he was trying to apologize in his own Joel way.

You leaned into him as your gaze read the menu that sat in front of him. It was a paper with big hand writing that contained half of what a normal menu would with only two meal options for tonight. Rabbit stew or potatoes, beans, and vegetables.

You glanced up at Joel, “What did you order?”

“The potatoes.” He answered.

You could feel Heather’s heated stare on you, but at this moment you didn’t care. You were going to fight for Joel and show her that he’s yours.

A grin pulled at your lips, “Of course you got the potatoes.” You leaned back from the menu and made yourself comfortable into his side, “I’ll get the stew then and we can share.”

His brow furrowed, “Who says I’m sharing my potatoes?”

You scoffed in mock defense, “You always share your food with me. I am irresistible.” You joked.

Joel shook his head as he chuckled deeply in amusement.

“How have you been settling in?” Tommy asked, pulling Heather away from the conversation that only you and Joel were having.

“Quite well actually, this place is lovely. I can see that you all take very good care of it.” She answered.

It was then that Lily walked to the table with three more glasses of water for Maria, Heather, and I. She then pulled a small pad of paper and a pencil out of her pocket.

She pushed her short blonde hair out of her face as she smiled, “What can I get started for you tonight?”

It was potatoes for Joel and Tommy and stew for you, Ellie, Maria, and Heather.

“Coming right up.” Lily smiled before walking away.

“You never guess what happened.” Maria quickly leaned into the table to spill some gossip, gossip that you knew very well and were more than happy to indulge in.

“What?” Ellie asked already intrigued.

“Well.” You started with a low tone to keep anyone outside from snooping in on your conversation.

“Here we go.” Tommy joked with an exagerated sigh.

“Might as well get comfortable.” Joel said to his brother, the two of them holding back their grins.

Tommy and Joel settled back into their seats, letting the girls gossiped while being interested in the gossip as well… Silently of course.

“I heard from Lorraine at the town meeting last week that…” Maria started to which you finished.

“Apparently Lily has been hooking up with the preachers daughter.” You stated matter of fact, remembering the night Maria knocked on your door right after she was told to keep it a secret.

“No!” Ellie gasped, “But isn’t that like blasphemy or something? Hooking up with a preachers kid?” She asked.

You thought for a moment before shrugging, “I don’t see how it could be.” You turned to Joel, “Is it blasphemy?”

“How should I know?” He grumbled back.

“Well…” You motioned your hand towards him, “I figured if anyone would know it would be you.”

He huffed and pinched your side causing you to squeal, “Funny.” He muttered.

“I’ve been around long enough to know that marrying someone who is related to a pastor isn’t blasphemous. I think the only thing that would be a large age gap between two especially when one is so young with their life ahead of them.” Heather mused as she took a sip of her water.

You felt Joel’s hand tense against yours before it slipped away, moving to rest behind on you the booth. This left an aching feeling in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake off especially at how specific Heather’s words were as if she were directly speaking about you and Joel.

You looked directly at Heather, “I think when they are both consenting adults then age shouldn’t matter. Love should.” You stated.

“And that is why you are still too young to understand dear.” She smiled as if she almost felt bad for you.

The booth was quiet for a moment before Maria spoke up to ease the tension.

“All I know is that they may or may not be secretly eloping.” Maria cheered.

“That seems wonderful.” Heather agreed quickly, “I don’t know them very well personally, but I wish them all the best.”

“Aww, I’m really happy for them.” You leaned back in the booth, trying to stay in the conversation and not have your mood ruined, “I can’t wait till my Ellie gets married.” You sighed happily at the thought, “It’ll be such a cute wedding and I hope my daughter-in-law will be as nice as Lily.”

“Excuse me?” Joel raised an eyebrow as he looked down at you, “She is not getting married. Ever.”

“Hey who says that I can’t?” Ellie leaned over to look at the both of you, “Not that to want to or anything, but still.”

“I say you can’t and it don’t matter if ya want to or not. It’s not happening.” Joel said gruffly.

Joel’s dad mode made everyone laugh while the food was being served. The booth once again fell into a calm atmosphere and you felt your body release some tension the moment you got warm food in your belly.

You were eating your soup peaceful. At times you would place rabbit meat on Joel’s plate while stealing a potato as payment. He didn’t seem to mind and the small chatter and clinking silverware against dishes was heard throughout our small group.

This was how it used to be and a sense of calm washed over you…

Until Heather tried to do the unthinkable.

“Can I try yours Joel?” She asked and began to reach over when Joel nodded, but you were not going to allow that.

Only I can eat off of Joel’s plate and of course Ellie too, but not Heather. Especially after what happened this morning. You thought. I haven’t forgiven her and why should I? She hasn’t even tried to apologize to me after lying to everyone.

You blocked her spoon with yours just as she reach Joel’s plate. Sharing food was your thing with Joel and no one else’s.

“No.” You said without a second thought.

“And why can’t I? It’s just food dear.” Heather had a condescending tone to her voice, another thing that you didn’t like.

You glared at her, “You have your own food.”

“And so do you.” She rolled her eyes.

You were about to say something when Joel squeezed your thigh as a warning.

He gave you a stern look, “It’s fine.” He said as he pushed his plate towards Heather.

You could only look up at him in confusion. He never shares his food with anyone. It was only ever you and Ellie.

“It’s just food.” He said as if it was the most simplistic thing in the world as he took his hand from your thigh.

It’s just food. You scoffed softly at his answer as you glared at Heather.

And maybe it was. Maybe you were over exaggerating, but being together on the road for months with barely any food, it was more than just food to you. It was the silent care that was shown between your little family as you shared the small amounts of food you had.

“Wow! This is delicious! I think I like yours better Joel.” Heather complimented.

“You can have more if you’d like.” He responded with a casual smile, one that had Heather glancing at you with a little smirk.

That made you grind your teeth in humiliation and anger.

It’s your food now and then you later. Why can’t you see that Joel?

You glanced down at your soup with a defeated look.

Do you even want to see it?

[http-shield]

daisies, i think- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: angst, budding friendship and romance, set in CA:CW timeline where Bucky is in Romania trying to piece back together his life, mixed POV ~ wc: 1.2k ~ not proofread

premise: ex-avengers employee, you have moved to Europe in order to get away from all things Shield. It is in Romania that you bump into a familiar man, a face you have only seen in the secret files you managed to get a glance at. You befriend the ghost of a man, determined to help him undo all the bad the world has done to him.

"You like Jasmine, right?" Bucky asks from across the small coffee table. 

"Uh, yeah. How did you-?" You grin at him, eyes squinting in apprehension at the sudden declaration. 

"I can remember some things," he answers and returns to the bowl of steaming noodles. "Not everything, but some things." the clarification comes a moment later. 

It's been two months since you moved into the small apartment on the outskirts of Bucharest. Two months of living in close quarters with Bucky, two months of getting to know him on a level you never thought you would. Two months. 

You clear your throat and ask. "What kind do you like?"

"Daisies. I think." He doesn't look up from his bowl, but you can see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I saw them a lot while…"

Still unsure of how to refer to the period when he wasn't himself. "They grow everywhere, so I can always find them, and they're nice to look at." 

The noodles sit abandoned in front of you now. Your attention has shifted wholly onto James, who continues to eat despite disclosing something that shattered your heart. He never stopped being that young boy who was lost, never stopped looking for life in the depths of hell, never stopped being Bucky. 

"You gonna write that in your book?" 

The question catches you off guard. 

"You have that little book you write in. I thought it was a diary but you only write in after I tell you something. Plus I saw my name a bunch’a times”

Your cheeks flush. 

"Is it bad stuff?" Bucky looks up now, blue eyes broken and defeated. 

"No! Nothing bad!" You rush to answer, scrambling for the book you tucked under the table and flip it open to your latest entry. "It's all good things, actually. Stuff that you like or remember or stories you tell me." 

Bucky's posture relaxes, shoulders sagging a little at the assurance you weren't keeping tabs on his slip-ups. 

You continue, opening to a page filled with drawings of stars and planets.  "This is when you told me that you went to the Stark expo before you shipped off and how you wished you could see space one day." you point to the stars that adorn the margin. "That's why there are little stars. I've been writing it all down so that if one day you need to remember something and we aren't together, I can give you the book, and you'll have all your memories." 

The heat in your cheeks deepens as you confess your reasoning behind the notetaking. 

"Steve, your umm…"

"I know Steve," Bucky confirms with a slight smile. 

"Steve has a book just like this with all the things he missed or wants to remember, so I copied him." it feels infantile using the word copied, but you can't think of anything better. "You can have it now if you want?'

"You leavin' me?" The sadness returns for a split second.

"No." your answer is firm. 

Light floods his blue eyes, shimmering like the sun on the ocean. "Then keep it. I'll take it when you finish it."

There's hope in his words. Determination that he will remember who he was and who he hopes to be. You find yourself smiling at that, admiring how much he is trying and how you can see yourself finishing this book and starting another.

-------------

"Do you think we should get some curtains?" your proposal has Bucky pausing in the kitchen, boiling water sloshing in the small pot he had just pulled from the stove.

He looks to the windows, plastered with newspapers to keep out prying eyes, and while he never thought about customising his apartment, your suggestion stirs something within him.

"If you want." the answer feels so domestic and ordinary that he forgets who and where he is. For a moment, he is no longer in a dingy apartment on the run and unstable in his own identity, but he is at home with you. He is in an apartment in Brooklyn, not far from where he grew up, in a small and cozy one-bedroom flat that he shares with you and your cat. You aren't the kind and strange girl who picked him up off the street like a stray, but you're so much more, someone he wishes he met in another life. He watches you frame the window with your fingers, face crinkled as you close one eye and determine the best shape and style of drapery for the space. His heart squeezes, a feeling wholly unfamiliar in his aching body.

"I can get some tomorrow after work?" another offer of complete and utter everyday ease. "Yellow? With daisies?"

Bucky grins at that.

"Or pink with jasmine?"

A small laugh escapes you, and you drop your hands. "One pink and one yellow?"

Bucky nods and returns to emptying that water from the pot, watching as the potatoes drop into the colander in the skin. He had offered to cook tonight, an easy recipe he had overheard while out today from two older ladies sitting in the square, their voices loud and bousitruous despite the sensitive nature of their conversation. The recipe was easy enough. Boil potatoes until soft, season them and cook them in the oven. Simple, easy. Perfect for his muddled mind to follow.

"Want help?" Your voice is closer, and Bucky jumps slightly. You reach out and grab his arm, hoping not to scare him further, but Bucky's heart starts in a race for an entirely different reason.

He gulps. "No need. thank you, ma'am." the words fall from his lips before his brain can form them.

"Ma'am?" you furrow your brows at him. "Where did that come from?"

Bucky turns to you, his face crinkled in confusion as he shakes his head. "I have no idea."

There is a beat of silence as you reach into your back pocket for the small book you had stuffed in there after your walk home. You open it to a blank page and date it to the top before writing your entry.

Calls people ma'am.

"Not people, women. " Bucky sighs as he reads over the edge of the paper. "Ladies, dames, girls."

"Dames?" laughter is building within you as he cites different words for women, most of which you hadn't heard outside of a movie from the forties.

You can't stop the laugh that spills from you, and soon, Bucky follows suit, enjoying how his stomach and shoulders feel as he laughs. It feels good, beyond good; its amazing, divine, marvelous, s'wonderful.

"You are a funny man, Bucky Barnes." You sigh as the laughter subsides, a hand sweeping over his shoulders. He notices how your fingers linger on the joint of his prosthetic arm, and for some reason, he doesn't feel as much guilt filling his stomach like lead. When they brush down his arms to entwine with his fingers, another sensation takes over his gut entirely. It's tingly and hot, twisting and sitting low in his body. He worries it's a bad feeling, familiar in a way that has his mind screaming, but there is no fear, no guilt, nothing but warmth like the sun on a winter's day, so he sits with it and lets you hold his hand until the timer on dinner dings.

a/n: apart of a bigger fic but this is sort of the first taste of it to see how I feel about writing/posting it.

[lunaforyou]

Primes Reborn AU spoilers below the cut, if you want to wait until the fanfic is done don't read.

WARNINGS miscarriage scare, violence, a little angst for the soul.

(everything turns out okay don't worry)

Sooooo, after kid number three, Optimus is already getting used to this. Hey, why fight the Matrix when he can work with it?

Besides, it's vindicative to be able to un-do most of Sentinel's damage, after giving the miners cogs that is. His frag up doesn't have to haunt their entire species forever.

Nevermind that the Matrix takes bits and pieces out of him in lieu of transfluid, since, well, the sparklings have to come from somewhere.

If undoing the damage Sentinel did entails energon, sweat and tears every time, so be it.

So he decides to find a spot he feels safe in and build a nest!

His unfortunate ass only feels safe in the cave of the primes though.

No biggie! He just has to make a comfortable spot.

In a cave full of corpses.

Great.

By the time he is finally done he is so wiped out that he falls asleep in the nest immediately.

And then he wakes up to the sound of a fusion canon. Being aimed at his face.

Oh right, Megatron.

So they start to fight, Optimus is always trying to diffuse it and keep his shit together, like, invading a nest is extremely distressing for the carrier. It's not like Megatron knows he is invading a nest, because even he wouldn't go that low goddamnit.

And then Megatron taunts him with something along the lines of;

"Look at yourself, Prime. You have gone soft with time, literally." (I'm still working on what he says, don't be too rude)

And Optimus, the fool that he is, looks down at himself. He really shouldn't have done that because that gives Megatron an opening to hit him.

In the gut.

He immediately falls to the floor in pain. And Megatron goes "I won't have mercy on you because you feel a little pain, Prime"

He can't even finish the sentence though, Optimus interjects with "She isn't moving"

It takes a second for Megatron to realize what he means.

He immediately scrambles to help, however he can. He lifts Optimus up and places him in the nest, and really he can't do much but it's better than doing nothing!

The blow triggered the emergence, and little Solus is born unconscious. This time, the other primes' spirits are mysteriously absent.

When he has her in his arms, Megatron shakes her up a little bit, to see if she wakes up. To which Optimus tells him that it's useless, her body is weak without a sire bond, and that she'll die.

And without thinking, this other fool just.

Opens his spark chamber.

You see, to form a sire bond, the spark of the carrier acts as a bridge between the sparkling and the sire's spark.

Want to guess where this is going?

.

.

.

.

.

That's right! Megatron and Optimus spark bond to save little Solus, you get nothing for guessing correctly <3

They coax her spark chamber open and the three of them bond. After the bond takes, Solus starts crying, and thank Primus she is crying, Megatron doesn't think he could have lived with the guilt if his little one died because of him.

And then Optimus takes her in his arms and Megatron's world expands by five.

They look so, so beautiful. And suddenly everything that's right in the world is in that cave, in the nest that his love made.

Because yes, that's his love now (never stopped being his love) and that's his sparkling. And Primus damn it he is not going to let go of them.

And then he looks at little Solus, and cries a little and says something along the lines of "She's perfect"

And then Optimus hits him with the "You say that because you haven't seen the other three"

Megatron cries a little more.

And the name of the AU is STILL Primes Reborn. :)

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 5 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Chapter Summary: There's a sudden divide between you and Buck.

A/N: Me? Desperate for validation? It's more likely than you think Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: none

You make your way through more of the rubble, taking frequent breaks in an attempt to conserve your energy. It’s probably been less than an hour, but it feels like you’ve been trapped for days. You used most of your effort to free Russ, which proved futile, so now you’re simply exhausted.

At some point, you see a glimpse of light between two pieces of crumbled concrete. Using the blunt side of your axe, you begin chipping away at the space. More light begins to break through. The sight causes you to catch your second wind, and you begin swinging harder. Eventually, you make a hole big enough for you to crawl through.

You climb over some of the bigger pieces of the fallen structure and slip between others. You sneak between a few vehicles. You keep walking, though you aren’t sure what you’re looking for. Something in you gut is pulling you in this direction, and you have nothing else to go off of, so you’re going with it.

You hear a cough.

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound. You start moving so quickly that you stumble a little and have to slow yourself down so you don’t break an ankle. You shine your flashlight to the side. It lands on a little girl. She squints her eyes and lifts a hand to block out the brightness.

“Kat?” You ask.

She nods.

You laugh. You laugh with joy. You laugh with relief. You laugh until a few tears spring into your eyes. You cut yourself off—no way are you breaking down in front her. You’ve both come this far, and you’re going to see each other to the end. If you’re saving anyone today, it’s her.

You reach into the inner pocket of your jacket, eternally grateful that you took on the added weight. “You looking for this?”

It’s her shoe.

Kat smiles and nods again.

Kat’s tired, and so are you, but you carry her on your back anyway. You swear that, in the distance, you hear a car alarm, so that’s the direction you head in.

“What if we can’t get out?” Kat asks quietly.

“What? Hey, come on, don’t start talking like that now,” you gently scold. “We’ve already made it through the hard part!”

“I guess…” She says, unsure.

You hear the shifting of rubble, but only a little. You think you might hear voices, too. You take off in that direction.

Concrete shifts, and you see more light—a lot of light. Like, your headlamp times ten. You scramble towards it, ducking a little so as to not hurt Kat.

As the dust settles, you can make out at least ten firefighters standing around the scene. You can’t help but smile.

“Hello fellas,” You say, taking a few more steps forward.

A firefighter from a different crew helps Kat off of you. Your attention immediately focuses on two particular firefighters in front of you, both of which have ‘118’ on their caps.

“Welcome back,” Buck greets with a grin.

You laugh and stumble forward right into his arms. Once again, you find yourself holding back tears. You feel someone pat your back and leave his hand there, and you don’t have to look to know it’s Eddie.

You make it back to the triage area, Kat walking in front of you. The moment she sees her parents, she takes off running. On instinct, you jog behind her, but when you see her collapse into her parents’ arms, you stop and simply watch.

They look over at you and nod. You smile and nod back.

Hen insists on looking you over, testing everything from your range of motion to your vision. Even you surprise yourself a little when you pass with flying colors. Hen steals a quick hug before she gets back to work. You just sit there, dumbfounded. You’re exhausted, but you’re okay. You’re alive.

“Hey you,” Buck says, taking a seat next to you.

Somehow, that’s all it takes for the floodgates to break open.

“Woah, hey, come here,” Buck wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You wrap an arm around his waist and lean your head on his shoulder. You breathe out a few sobs but slowly quiet yourself. You can feel Buck’s lips pressed to the top of your head. You sit up straight, wiping your eyes. Buck keeps his arm around you.

“Sorry,” you whisper, shaking your head a little. “Just… rough day.”

“Russ?” Buck asks quietly.

You smile sadly and nod, a few more tears escaping in the process. “You know he wasn’t even scheduled to work? He just heard about everything and wanted to help. And now he’s dead. Because I couldn’t save him.”

“But you were there for him,” Buck points out, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “Even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him. He didn’t die alone. You did that.”

“Yeah, I guess. It just doesn’t feel like enough, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

You clear your throat a little. “When I was alone and thought you guys might not find me, I made recordings. I wanted the people I love to hear from me one last time. Can you guess how many I made?”

Buck just watches you. His expression is a mix of intrigue and sympathy.

“Five,” you answer, even though he doesn’t ask. “I made five recordings, one for each of you. That’s it.”

“What about your parents? Siblings?”

“My mom died when she gave birth to me,” you answer. “My dad fell into a bottle. I haven’t spoken to him since I moved away from home seven years ago. People tell me he changed after she died, but… that’s the only way I know him. It makes me feel like I got cheated out of both my parents instead of just one.”

The two of you sit in silence. It’s broken when you laugh.

“I don’t know why the hell I’m telling you all of this,” you chuckle as more tears form. “I guess I just need someone to know that… this job is quite literally my entire life. It’s my passion, my work, my home, and my family. Most of the time, I feel lucky. On days like today, though, it just… scares the hell out of me. Because I’m either gonna die doing what I love, or doing what I love will kill me. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck agrees softly. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather do it with, either.”

Once you all returned to the station, you hopped in the shower. When you got out, Buck was waiting for you in the locker room. He insisted on driving you home, making sure you were okay. When he told you, you rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled. The last thing you want to do is navigate LA traffic, so you accept his offer.

When you both started to leave, you noticed Eddie was making phone calls and texts. You learned that he was trying to find a ride to Christopher’s school; he hasn’t had the chance to buy a vehicle yet.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asks again as you all get to the parking lot.

“Just get in the damn car, Eddie,” you say.

The ride is a little tense. Eddie touched base with some of the school staff, so he knows Christopher is okay, but it isn’t the same as seeing it for himself. He taps his phone against the car windowsill. You insisted on sitting in the back, and for good reason: you can already feel yourself dozing off.

Buck pulls over, and you look up to see you’ve arrived at the school. Almost before the car is in ‘park’, Eddie flings open the door and runs up the stairs. Christopher is standing in the front hall, a staff member off to the side. Eddie picks him up in a hug, spinning him around.

“They���re really cute,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Buck is too busy watching them to even register what you said.

Eddie thanks the staff member before opening the door for Chris. The two make their way back to the car, Christopher a little bit in front of Eddie. For a kid with crutches, he moves quickly; the poor kid is probably ready to go home.

Eddie opens the side door for his son, setting the crutches on the floor. With his father’s help, Christopher joins you in the backseat.

“Chris, these are my friends,” Eddie says, pointing at you and Buck as he introduces you both.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile.

“My dad talks about you. A lot,” Christopher says.

You giggle in surprise. “Does he, now?”

Even in the dark, you can see Eddie’s face get red. “‘You’ as in the 118,” he clarifies.

Buck shakes his head and laughs softly as he pulls away from the curb.

This might be the dumbest call you’ve ever been to, and that’s saying something.

A bunch of women decided to get drunk at 11:30 in the morning, and as a fun drunk activity, one of them stuck her head in a tailpipe. The only problem is she couldn’t get it out, so now it’s the LAFD’s problem. Medically, she’s clear, so you and Hen stand back and let the boys do their thing. Unfortunately, the drunk girl has drunk friends and said drunk friends are relentlessly hitting on Eddie and Buck.

“What are you so tense for?” Hen asks.

“I’m not.”

You both know it’s a lie. Until she said it, though, you didn’t realize that your jaw was clenched and your brow furrowed. You roll your shoulders and turn your neck a few times, hoping it relaxes your muscles.

The women are bothering you. And it’s really stupid and childish, especially considering that neither Buck nor Eddie is your boyfriend. They’re just your coworkers, so you have literally no right to get upset that women besides yourself find them attractive.

“I uh, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” Eddie politely rejects one of them. “I have a son.”

“I’m gonna puke!” The woman says from inside the tailpipe.

“You better not!” One of her friends shouts. “These fire guys are totally hot.”

You can feel your jaw start to tense again.

After getting the woman free from the tailpipe, you all begin to make your way back to the engine. Buck and Eddie are a few steps in front of you. They’re trying to be discrete, but you make out every word.

“Hey, so is your son really the reason you don’t date?” Buck asks.

“That, and.. They weren’t my type,” Eddie shrugs.

“I’m talking in general,” Buck continues.

“It’s complicated when you have a kid.”

“Come on, that’s a weak excuse.”

The conversation is cut short when Eddie gets a phone call. He takes a few steps away while you and Buck linger behind. You don’t have to hear anything to see Eddie’s body language change. Buck sends you a knowing glance.

It’s about Christopher.

It’s always weird going past the ER of a hospital. It feels like you’re in forbidden territory, like you’ve stepped outside your bounds. The nice thing about having few family members is you barely have to cross the picket line.

You, Buck, and Eddie get off the elevator. Eddie is a few steps ahead and quickly sees his aunt in a nearby waiting area. They chat a little, and you can see that Christopher is standing near a few nurses, completely eating up the attention. It makes you smile.

Eddie’s aunt explains that it’s his grandmother who’s in the hospital—broken hip. When she was watching Christopher and called him inside, she slipped on a porch step. Christopher had to call 911.

“Who’s this with you?” His aunt asks, turning her attention to you and Buck.

“We work together,” Eddie explains after saying your names.

“Mmm, I thought you just dressed alike.”

“This is my Aunt Josefina—Pepa,” Eddie introduces.

“Hi,” you both say politely.

Pepa begins to lecture Eddie about leaving Christopher with his grandmother. You can tell Eddie feels bad, but you can also tell he has no other options. He dismisses himself from the conversation by meeting up with Christopher.

“Must be rough,” Buck remarks.

“Raising any child alone is rough,” Pepa agrees.

“Eddie’s a saint,” You praise.

Pepa smiles. It’s bittersweet. “I pray for him anyway.”

Christopher ends up spending some time at the station, and it’s one of the best shifts you’ve had in a long time. Eddie’s aunt was busy working when his shift started, and with his grandmother still in the hospital, he truly had nowhere else to take him. It was either bringing his son to work or calling in from work to watch his son. Eddie chose the former.

You’re able to take him on a simple MVC call with no suspected injuries. As you all work to free the drivers and passengers, Bobby explains everything to Christopher. He’s standing on the ground while Christopher stands on part of the firetruck, holding one of the rails for stability. Bobby has an arm around him for the same reason.

When you get back to the station, you make him a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. He approves. Then, Chim swoops in and teaches him how to play pinball. At some point, all of you are standing around the firepole, helping Christopher slide down it.

Pepa shows up, and the fun is over. Before Eddie walks them out, he pulls Cap into a hug. You and Buck look at each other and smile.

“This was a really nice idea, Buck.”

“Eh, I figured we could all use a little stress relief,” Buck shrugs.

“Well, clearly Eddie appreciates it. I guess it really does take a village.”

Buck nods in response and begins to walk away.

“I’m thinking of going to nursing school,” you blurt out.

He turns back to face you. “What?”

You clear your throat. This wasn’t how you planned on telling him, just springing it on him in a random conversation. You knew that if you didn’t say something soon, he would hear it from someone else first. You definitely didn’t want that.

“You remember that conversation we had at breakfast a few weeks ago? You know, the one about what we’d be doing if we didn’t work at the 118?”

“You wanna be a nurse?” Buck frowns. “I mean, nurses are great; Maddie’s a nurse. Or, well, she was. You just… don’t seem the type.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve kind of always been interested in flight nursing. You know, like, going up in a helicopter, responding to scene calls, that sort of thing,” you explain as you wring your hands.

“So that means you wouldn’t work here anymore.”

“That’s… a long ways down the line. Like, at least 18 months, probably closer to 2 years. Bobby said I could always stay on casually, pick up shifts whenever I want.”

“You already talked to Bobby,” Buck rubs his neck. “You must be pretty serious about this, then.”

“I guess,” you shrug. You’re trying to sound casual, but the thumping of your heart in your chest doesn’t cease.

Buck smiles. The expression doesn’t meet his eyes. “I hope everything works out the way you want it to.”

This time, he walks away for good, leaving you with a bitter taste on your tongue.

The 118 is called to a helicopter crash site. The pilot tried to make an emergency landing in a park football field but landed in the bleachers instead. After Buck pulls one of the victims from the scene, you do an assessment and quickly realize that, by some miracle, she’s completely fine.

Buck makes his way over to the two of you. “Hey, do me a favor and say ‘And on the 405, speeds are under five miles an hour, making your morning commute a rough one.’"

You look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I-I know that voice. It's, uh, it's Taylor Kelly reporting, right? Skywitness News Eight,” Buck says, pointing back to the helicopter.

“That’s me,” Taylor says with a soft chuckle.

“Wow. Um, it's weird to hear that voice come out of a face.”

Taylor laughs again. “Thank you?”

They’re flirting. You clench your teeth together so hard you think your jaw might pop. You start randomly tossing supplies back into your bag, zip it up, and hop back into the rig before you can hear the end of the conversation.

The next time you see Taylor, she’s at the station. She doesn’t come alone, either—a man holding a television camera is a few steps behind her.

The first one to approach her is Buck, of course. Then Eddie, Chim, Hen, and finally, Bobby. You watch everything happen from the loft; there’s no way you’ll willingly engage in whatever conversation they’re having.

Bobby makes his way up the stairs.

“What’s all that about?” You ask as he walks by.

“Ms. Kelly wants to do a story on the 118,” Bobby says.

You frown. “Is she even allowed to film in here?”

“The chief’s office is on hold. Something tells me that we’ll be seeing quite a bit of her and her cameraman the next few days.”

Bobby’s already gone, but you still roll your eyes.

Taylor manages to track down everyone and get an interview: everyone except you and Captain Nash. She follows along on a few calls, on which you can mostly ignore her. It's much harder to ignore her when she corners you in the loft.

You’re eating breakfast alone at the kitchen island when Taylor bombards you, her cameraman beside her like always. She gives you a massive grin, and something about how it looks makes you nauseous.

“Can we have a few minutes with you?” She asks, still smiling.

“No,” you respond simply.

“...No?”

“No,” you repeat, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s cold.

“Look, I know this is probably a little awkward and uncomfortable-”

“It’s not,” you interrupt as you stand. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

You head towards the coffee pot to warm your cup. You refill it and take a sip as you lean against the counter. Taylor just stares at you.

“I want you to know I only have one goal here: to tell a story. Your story,” Taylor says, forcing the smile back on her face.

“Oh, really?” You ask, setting your coffee on the counter behind you. You push off of the counter so you can approach Taylor. “And uh, how much money do you think you can make telling my story?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what this about, right?” you challenge. “You have a chance to change the trajectory of your career. You can go from the girl who talks about traffic to the woman who sheds a light on the unsung heroes. You’d be stupid not to jump on that opportunity.”

Taylor looks at you. “I suppose.”

“And I would be stupid if I actually believed you have good intentions,” you continue, “because you don’t give a damn about us. You don’t care about the 118 or what we do everyday—you care about yourself. So no, I don’t have a minute and I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You missed the show.”

You open your locker with a huff. You shrug as you pick up your shoes. “Bummer.”

“You were barely in it,” Buck continues. “Something tells me that wasn’t exactly an accident.”

You take a seat on the bench so you can change your shoes. “What makes you say that?”

The only sound in the room is you kicking off your boots and slipping into your converse. You begin tying the laces, then pause.

You look over your shoulder at Buck. “You talked to her, didn’t you?”

Buck looks everywhere but your face.

“You know what I said to her,” you say. It isn’t even a question: you can tell by how he’s acting.

“I just don’t understand why you were so rude to her.”

“Oh my god, seriously, Buck?!” you say, standing up to face him. “Her?!”

He crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

You scoff and shake your head. “It means you haven’t changed at all.”

“What?”

You pick up your boots and toss them in your locker, which you slam shut. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair,” he argues, moving his hands to his pockets.

“It’s not?” You ask, cocking your head. “I’m pretty sure a few months ago, you were sleeping with whatever woman fell for the whole ‘hero’ act. So how exactly have you changed?”

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Buck asks defensively. “I mean, it’s not like you care enough to stick around.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “How dare you throw that in my face.”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” you confirm, stepping towards him. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but I haven’t even applied to anything.”

“If it’s not my business, then why’d you make it my business?” Buck provokes. “Why’d you even tell me?”

“Because I thought you were my friend!” you shout. “I thought you would be happy for me!”

“Be happy that you want to leave?”

“Be happy that I want more for myself!”

“Well, I’m not happy,” Buck says, crossing his arms again. “You say that we’re your family, and then a few weeks later, you’re talking about other jobs. I mean, was that just a bunch of bullshit?”

You scoff again, and this time, angry tears fill your eyes. “Fuck you, Evan.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, turning to the door.

There are a million things you want to say. But then, you remember: you’ve already said them.

You reach into your pocket and come back with your phone. As Buck walks away, you hit the ‘play’ button on a recording you never wanted to listen to.

'Pretty Boy,' your voice in the recording crackles.

Buck stops and turns around.

'Evan Buckley… where do I even start with you? I’m not gonna lie: I really didn’t like you when we first met. And that’s funny, because now, you’re probably one of the most important people in my life. You definitely proved me wrong, man: you were good. You are good. And you have to keep being good, okay? I might not be there to see it anymore, but you should still do it. Do it for the both of us, will ya?'

You hit the ‘pause’ button and stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“You can be pissed at me all you want, but don’t you ever say that I don’t care about this job,” you whisper as you walk towards him. You poke a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever say that I don’t care about you.”

“I-”

Your shoulder slams into his as you walk out.

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 001 ] over my dead body.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. suggestive comments, swearing, wooyoung being an annoying piece of shit. word count. 1.1k

　　　　　　　　chapter i // chapter ii

"The groups have already been decided and the list can be found on the bulletin outside. See you all next week." And with that, your professor walked out of the studio and left your classmates scrambling to get out of class and find the list.

All things considered, your day could have been worse. Yes, you'd gone to bed at 5 am and woken up at 7 to your housemate blasting music in the bathroom as she showered. Though, that was a daily occurrence, being mad over it just didn't make sense anymore. Yes, when you got into the shower and turned on the water without paying attention to the heat dial, you pretty much burned off your skin. Yes, on the way to the art department you had dropped one of the paintings you've been working on for over a month, getting mud all over the bottom half of the artwork.

But, nevertheless, it could've been a lot worse.

As you gathered the used paintbrushes next to your easel, you thought about who could be your partner for this collaborative project with the dance majors. Professor Yun just spent about ten minutes informing you and your peers that the art majors were to pair up with a dance major to create an artwork. The specifics—such as whether it'll be a painting or collage or other media—were completely up to the students.

You holstered your bag on your shoulder, finally leaving the art studio to see who you were paired with. Maybe it'll be Suncha, possibly the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. You could definitely see yourself working with her. She moved with grace and would probably be the best subject you could ever wish for. Maybe Daehyun—you'd always found his face and body aesthetically pleasing.

The crowd in front of the bullet slowly dissipated and people found their partners in the crowd, already making conversation and talking about the project. With a slight sense of dread but a pinch of anticipation, you stepped up to the list and scanned it, quickly finding your name next to-

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

Nevermind, this was definitely one of the worst days you'd ever experienced. Because right next to your name, stood a name associated with one of the eight most sought-after men on your campus.

Jung Wooyoung.

They'd never done anything to you personally, but you just weren't a fan of the way they'd go from girl to girl without being ashamed or being called out. Granted, you weren't sure if all eight of them behaved like that (though this particular Jung Wooyoung did), you still disliked them (except for one of them, but you'd never admit that). Maybe it was how they were practically handed everything they needed at any given moment on a silver tray. Or how ridiculously good looking they were. Either way, something about them just felt... off.

An arm being slung over your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts of just ending your life right then and there. Without even looking at the person, you already had a suspicion of who it could be.

"Hey there, partner," He stepped in front of you, hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer than you'd like. A mischievous smile graced his features, "I don't think I've ever talked to you. What's your name, pretty?"

"It's on the paper right behind you." You deadpanned, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

For a second, Wooyoung's eyes hardened before that playful glint returned. "I know, but I'd like to hear you say it. After all, I don't want to be pronouncing it wrong."

With a sigh, you gave him your name and he repeated it, testing the sound of it on his tongue. Seemingly satisfied, he returned to your side with a hum and once again slung his arm over your shoulders, steering you toward the exit of the arts department and practically dragging you with him.

Along the way, you passed multiple clusters of girls and boys, some of them watching Wooyoung with admiration and lust in their eyes while others simply glared at you out of jealousy. Feeling their stares, your head turned to the ground and you screwed your eyes shut, wishing it was Daehyun dragging you. Not this painfully pretty, charming man that you couldn't stand.

"So," Wooyoung started—though he never really stopped talking, "I was thinking, if you don't have any courses or stuff for the rest of the day, you can come over to my place and we can start working on whatever it is we have to do."

"I told my roommate I'd be back early to clean our apartment."

"Oh, then I can come with you, help you and then you can come to my place."

"Why not just do it at my place?"

"That's fine, too. Maybe you can show me to your bedroom?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you had to hold back the urge to smack him right then and there.

"Over my dead body."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really into necrophilia."

It was then that you noticed you were walking towards the campus' parking lot. You stopped in your tracks and waited for Wooyoung to turn.

"Ok, first of all, what the fuck. But I guess I'm glad that's not your thing. Second, what are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

He blinked. Once, twice. "I'm taking you to my car...?"

"Why?"

"To take you to my place so we can work?" He looked behind him and then back to you, his dark hair bouncing around and revealing the bleached layers underneath.

"But I have stuff to do." You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to your right leg as you looked up at him. He wasn't that much taller, but because of his proximity, it was hard to look him in the eyes without craning your neck just a bit.

A chuckle (though it sounded more like a giggle) escaped him. "The dishes and vacuum can wait. I'm only available for the next two hours, after that you're free to do whatever you want."

You took a second to mull things over before dropping your head and groaning. "Fine but–"

"Great!" Wooyoung grabbed your hand and resumed pulling you across the parking lot. "Let's get going, maybe the food Seonghwa-hyung made will still be warm when we get there and–"

"Wait!" You tugged on the hand that held yours harshly, making him stop to look back at you with a raised brow. "But... no funny business. Please."

He let out another high pitched laugh. "Oh, YN, my dearest darling YN, I don't plan on doing anything like that with you. Today, at least. Though if you'd like-"

"No!" You extended a hand to stop him from finishing that sentence, cheeks blushing dark crimson. "Please just- just lead the way."

That specific mischievous grin returned to his face as he whipped around and practically skipped to his black Mercedes with tinted windows. You didn't stop to appreciate the car, getting into the passengers seat and strapping the seatbelt on.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter!! any guess as to who the ateez member is that YN likes more than the others? hint: it's not wooyoung. also, i'm basing each of the mebers' looks off of different eras. in case you couldn't tell, we will be dealing with oreo wooyoung here.

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @r1kitti @sarahleighflora @kyukyustar

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023