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savnofilter · 1 year ago

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At First | Izuki Midoriya

Pro Hero!Izuku Midoriya x Fiancé![FEM]Reader

WARNING(S): sexual content, brat!reader, oral (f -> m), face fucking, reader low-key annoying asf, reader gets their doonies beat down, reader is a crier and squirter, mating press, reader is folded as she gets fucked, sometimes Midoriya gives mercy, sex with (barely) any clothes on, Midoriya is a big fan of eye contact, hickies, reader has brunch with bsf in the morning, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k (14 mins).

READ MORE: masterlist + [students masterlist]

A/N: this originally was supposed to be written during panini19 so i had to come up with a new context as to why reader and midoriya were 'stuck' together. ☠️ either way i think i salvaged this pretty okay! wish i had finished this sooner lol... but anyways, thank you anon & @chxrryp0p !!

Being cooped up in your shared penthouse was starting to become unbearable.

For Midoriya, less for you.

You see, recently, Midoriya has been on break for about a month, and the country was trying to adjust to it all. At certain times, he would have to clock in for emergency missions. Still, other than that, he has been vacationing with you, his fiancé, for about a month now.

At first, it was terrific. The saying that the heart grows fonder the longer you’re away is absolutely correct. Midoriya was all over you with his overwhelming urge to smother you in affection when he finally returned from being away for so long. You two would wake up, cook together, eat, have a good time for some of the afternoon, and then spend the rest of the night,, “catching up.” You did this routinely so that neither of you had to say what to do next for the day. You just knew. Later that night, you two would reconnect like tenfold when he would be off to save a city or something.

So yes, at first, it was great. Then, your behavior started to change.

However, not in a way that he found unbearable, but in a way that annoyed him. You would make little jokes about how “smol” he was—he hadn’t heard shit like that in years—or bluntly tease him about how subby and whiny he could get during sex.

“Hey, Izuku, can you get that for me?” You ask, pointing to the pair of headphones that dropped on the floor not too long ago.

Midoriya, being the kind fiancé he is, picks it up without a second thought, oblivious to your other ulterior motives. He’s met with a mischievous look when he hands you the earbuds, his brows furrowed in confusion when you grin at him. “What’s funny…?” He questions as he watches you start to giggle to yourself.

You shake your head and wave a dismissive hand at him. “Oh, nothing….” You teasingly chide him, thanking him for the kind gesture before folding your lips in to keep yourself from continuing to make jokes about him. He narrows his eyes, not necessarily at anything but indeed in annoyance. Midoriya rolls his eyes at what you were wordlessly insinuating.

“I’m not.”

“I’m just teasing you~” You sing in his ear and grin when he turns to you with a glare. “Do you want to prove it to me?”

“Prove what?” He mumbles against your lips. He rests his phone down to properly wrap his arms around your waist now that you two are face to face. “Why do you insist I’m “pure”-”

“You are!” You laugh, “I’m just saying… with us spending so much time together now, I think I’m just now realizing how cute you are…” You trail off and give the corner of his lips a chaste kiss as a mock reassurance. You maintain eye contact with him when you pull away and get between his legs, hands resting on his knees.

Midoriya now has a clear image of you on your knees in front of him with an expression of deviance that didn’t sit right with him. A flustered blush starts to form on his face before deepening a bit as he feels a boner begin to form. Your ‘outfit’ left almost nothing to the imagination, and the visual was starting to get to him. Rolling his eyes, your fiancé decides not to entertain or indulge your persistent behavior, though. His ignorance of your obvious motives makes you pout, crossing your arms as you challenge him. Your one-sided stare off with him ultimately bugs him, your hot gaze making him stare back at you. He sighs, resting his phone down again, and crosses his arms, his body language cutting you off. “But?”

“A sub would say no~” Your grin finds its way back to your face as you watch your boyfriend’s face twist into an expression of one you’ve never seen him wear before. The lucky sensation of hitting the jackpot crawls through your body; your plan finally falling into place. It was evident that your egging on was affecting him, and today, you made sure to wear something skimpy and easy to take off, too. It was only a matter of time before you could have him right where you wanted him.

Your fiancé tries ignoring you further, not wanting to deal with your brat behavior. Maybe he is a sub. Even with all this teasing, Midoriya still holds his urge to pin you down and fuck you into oblivion. But it felt different in his circumstance; if you could be a brat, he could also be a brat. He slowly shrugs off his annoyance, a deep sigh leaving him as he returns to scrolling on his phone and quietly gives you the silent treatment. There is no mistaking the disappointment that runs through your body, and now you’re thinking of the next part of your plan: provoke him with your actions.

Your hands on his knees slowly slide up his sweatpants, covering his thighs, squeezing periodically as they slowly rise on their intended arrival. You’re looking up at him with clear intent of what you will do, but he doesn’t look back.

‘fine, two could play at this game.’ a game at which you had started. You didn’t care about the audacity; you were in the mood to annoy your fiancé.

Your softly padded fingers finally make it to his hips. You lean up a bit to press more of your weight onto his body, the feeling making him budge. One of his favorite things about having sex with you was that he loved feeling your weight on him. Most times out of ten, when you did press against him, it was an easy ticket that would lead to the inevitable.

His cold demeanor still held up, although you knew his body was fighting to keep a strong front. You lean forward to kiss against his exposed abdomen; since he tends not to wear shirts at home, you can feel his soft but taught skin under your needy lips. One of your hands slips down to palm at his rising boner, a gentle hum of approval coming from you as you feel his length. Your other hand tugs at the side of his sweats, your eyes flickering to gaze at him.

He merely gives a glance once he realizes you’re looking at him, your eyes asking for permission. He presses his lips together and helps lift his hips, your kisses still descending to where he needed it most.

You don’t break eye contact until you have his cock freed from its confines, causing his length to tap you in the face lightly. Your mouth watered as it twitched once in need, and your pussy started to crave the feeling of wanting it inside there too. You double grip the base of his length before leaning in and pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his tip, your eyes now back on him again. The game of getting him off his phone is proven successful as he now has his full attention on you, his expression nothing but lust with a noticeable building pressure of his annoyance behind it. His breathing has deepened, though, and that was due to the fact you knew how to suck him off real good.

Your tongue laps at his tip, the textured and wet muscle dragging across the sensitive part, making his hips buck up to feel more of it. A grunt from deep within his chest lets you know his patience is starting to run thin, and it took everything in you not to smile. Still, you continue to tease. Your hands languidly stroking at his lengthy dick, a soft hum coming from you as the taste of pre-cum starts to cover your taste buds.

Midoriya would be a panting mess on a regular day, begging you for more, but today, he was feeling different. Today, you were making him feel feral. The way you can push his buttons was no joke, but you always knew when not to cross a line. With one hand, he rested his hand on top of your head. He slowly forces your mouth further onto his length, a slight but sadistic smirk clawing at his lips, watching as your hands stop their stroking to find refuge on the conjuncture of where his hips and thighs meet, needing to brace yourself as you take in his entire length into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the tip of his cock poke at the back of your throat, his hand unmoving, and you know that you have no choice but to do as he says. With all the might you can courage, you suckle as you can, drool starting to pool from how open your mouth sat on his member. When you whimper and tap his leg, he finally lets you up on his own accord. Midoriya decides to be generous and lets you start at your own pace. At first, you were going at a comfortable pace, the tempo and suction he was used to, and he couldn’t complain. But just like many times during this break when he has given you an inch, you would sprint a mile.

An ingenious idea pops up in your head to catch him off guard. While bobbing your head, you reach the base of his length and deep throat him again, just like when you first started. But this time, you didn’t shy away from looking up at him with fake innocence as you pulled away and took it slow instead. Midoriya’s once complicit hand now grips your hair to control your bobbing. The more he guides you, the more he doesn’t stop himself from reveling in the sight of you starting to become a slobbering mess as your attempts to tease were really starting to piss him off. Midoriya then places both his hands on the side of your head after widening his stance on the ground and sprawls a bit to gain more strength in his movements. You weren’t sure what he was doing until a strong kick of your gag reflex hit you.

He fucks his hips into your mouth as you try to keep up, eyes alarmed and hands gripping at him for support. You now had no other choice but to take him in, still bobbing your head like the greedy brat you are. You could faintly hear his labored breathing over the sounds of your poor mouth taking in his face fucking, the feeling sending deep arousal straight to your crouch.

You shift as you try to somehow ease the tension between your thighs, your eyes now prickling with tears in frustration as you so badly want to touch yourself. The ability to do that was simply impossible because you had no choice but to take your fiancé’s girthy cock in your mouth. You squeeze your thighs together to release the build-up tension in your loins, trying to brace yourself for what will happen next.

“Look at me,” Midoriya commands, a tug at your hair, making you peek an eye at him. You don’t miss the dark look in his eyes as you undoubtedly look at a mess. All of your control surrendered to him and the rough pace of his hips. For a moment, he stops altogether, and your confused eyes are peering up at him again for guidance. He tugs you off by the base of your neck, eyes dark as he stands up. Consequently, your confusion doesn’t last very long before he’s guiding your head to retake his length now that he’s standing up.

It’s obscene how the sound of you swallowing his cock echoes in the spacious living room; the bustling city sounds quickly drowned out by your full mouth, his heavy breathing, and even some of his soft profanities and sounds of pleasure to accompany yours. You don’t try to hide that you have now slipped one of your hands into your loose and tiny shorts, your other hand holding onto him for support. Your knees, although separated enough to take in his rough thrusts, were probably starting to bruise, but you didn’t care. You shamelessly moaned as your fingers played with your wet snatch; the slight hum to your noises aiding you not to gag on his length.

“Look at me, Y/N.” Midoriya tugs at your hair again to let you know he means business. Once you look up at him, he groans at your tear-filled eyes and presses you fully against the bush at the base of his cock. He holds you there as he wordlessly finishes down your throat, rocking his hips to ride the rest of his load into the back of your throat. You gurgle on his length before he pulls you away, you recoiling as you desperately try to gain your breath back from it being prolongedly taken away from you. He watches you choke and catch your breath, patting your hair down as you compose yourself. “You alright?”

You nod and wipe your mouth, only for him to grip your wrist and pick you up. He quickly tosses you onto the couch, and he’s on you, leaning down to give your messy mouth a searing kiss. His hands are heavy and fast on you, his fingers tugging down your useless tank, and his other moves your shorts and panties to the side, not bothering to get a lick of clothes off your body correctly. As you’re distracted by the kiss, he slips his tip into you, the poke making you flinch at the contact. Your hands helplessly grip him as he pulls away.

Midoriya looks down between both of you to watch as his cock splits you open, his hands finding the back of your knees and pressing your thighs close to your chest in a mating press. You gasp as you can’t help but suck in a small breath and feel the weight of his cock slip inside you, the position not allowing you to adjust.

“Z-Zuku, wait—!” You pleaded. A winded groan escapes your lips, and you tilt your head against the sofa. “I-I have brunch tomorrow afternoon! I can’t take it like this-”

“Mm, should’ve thought of that before pissing me off.” Midoriya dismisses your sorry excuse to get out of this mess. A mess you started. A mess that you curated. A mess that you caused. He wasn’t having any of it. If you wanted him like this, then he’d play the role.

Despite his words before, he did give you a moment or two before he began thrusting inside of your hungry cunt. His thrusts were heavy and fast, and he wasn’t sparing you the grace of not bottoming out, which he knew you hated. The noises you let out were nothing but obscene. The leather couch squeaked in protest while your moans fought back in an obnoxious match of who could desperately cling to reality. Your pussy is so undoubtedly wet, and your sloppy blowjob from earlier helped with the fact he had no issues to hinder him fucking you silly now.

He watches in glee with hungry eyes as your face rivals a pornstar, and nothing but lust and submission is written all over your face. With each thrust, your chest jiggles at the force, the sight making his cock twitch again. He waits no longer to lean down and take a nipple into his mouth, teeth nipping at the sensitive bud before sucking feverishly. He loves your chest, and the fact that at this pace made them look more delectable. He is generous in leaving other marks on your chest to compliment your clear skin, wanting everyone to know what you made him do. A chuckle tickles your skin as he can’t help but find it funny that your words aren’t coherent anymore.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? To be fucked like a little slut?” Midoriya spits out at you as he straightens to hold your thighs up. He moves to the side of the couch so your lower body rests on the arm of the chair, an angle that makes your body fold from the hold. His heavy thrusts successfully knock the wind out of you, the impact springing, overstimulating tears to your eyes. Your trembling hands were trying hard to keep up by gripping the seat beneath you, but it was useless. Your feeble attempts were no match for him.

Your whimpering at the new angle is all he needed to know that you are enjoying this. It was evident by the way that the tears that rolled down your face were evidence that you were indeed close. He glares down at you as he speaks, “Touch yourself, Y/N.”

You tilt your head up and hum as you almost didn’t hear him. He reaches down to roughly rub your clit to wake you up, the gesture indeed doing the job. You cry out at the feeling and hurriedly reach down to do the work instead, a shiver wracking through you as you follow his command. Your cunt is unbelievably tight around him, and the squeeze makes him dizzy. “Cum, please let me cum, please,” You beg, getting lost in his fucking. There were no thoughts at all in your head. Just dick and knowing you wouldn’t get off easy if you came without asking.

Your fiancé grunts as you start to fumble with your words, bearing witness to you getting fucked so stupid that you had no choice but to fall into what you knew you needed most. Today, although you irked him to no end, Midoriya was feeling gracious and let you release first after feeling his second climax coming around the corner. When you finish, it happens so fast that it was almost painful. Your body shook as you squirted on him and yourself, your body freezing as your walls pulsed around his length, his hips stuttering against yours as he couldn’t help but finish in you. Midoriya leans down to sloppily kiss you as you both come down from your high. It wasn’t long before he was pulling away and flipping you over, hands on your breasts and his chest pressed against your back as his cock was back inside your sensitive cunt. Midoriya was sure that you were fucked dumb at this point, but he, too, was pussy drunk over you as well.

Indeed, a few more rounds could cure his lust.

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

"Y/N!" Your best friend calls out to you when she notices your figure approaching her.

You smile and awkwardly walk over to her, a noticeable limp to your stride as much as you try to hide it. She raises a brow at the display, her eyes trailing your unmistakably disheveled appearance. However, you did look put together all the while.

“You okay, N/N?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course, why?” You rush to answer her question with your own. You and her have a stare-down once she notices you haven’t sat down yet, and you know the act added to her suspicion.

“Why won’t you sit down?” She accuses, brow raised. You nervously laugh it off and forcefully push her shoulder as your rough handling earns a dirty look from her.

“I’m getting there, you know?!” You smile hard, your words with a grit added to your speech from your teeth being clenched together. Still, the awkward eye contact continues as you try to hide the wince as you sit in front of her. Suddenly, her eyes and face lit up like a bulb had gone off.

“No fuckin’ way-!”

“Watch your freaking mouth,” You mumble as people start to look over, and you try to cover up your skin that exposes your neck.

“I’m going to take a wild guess that the reason you didn’t respond to me till this morning, didn’t join the group call, now wearing suspiciously warm clothes for the hot weather and walking weirdly is because of him?” She leans on the table to get a closer look at you with a shit-eating grin as if she already knew the answer.

“... yes.” You also break out into a stupid grin, you two giggling like madmen as she slaps your arm at the admission.

“So the plan worked?! You got to tell me everything!”

As you catch your friend up on everything, you can’t help but feel bad for egging Midoriya on for as long as you did… but it was all worth it. At first, the idea to annoy him was simply a dare. Still, soon enough, it became a plan to see another side of your fiancé you realize you had never seen before.

After the many rounds yesterday, you did find out and learn your lesson, though. Before you fell asleep for the night, you did apologize to him for being a brat, and you two fell asleep to a movie after having a much-needed takeout meal that rivaled a mukbang from your activities.

One thing was for sure, though: your state of the aftermath was a great way to remind yourself not to annoy him as much as you had prior.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #midoriya izuku x reader #pro hero!midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x black!reader #mha x black!reader #bnha x poc!reader #mha x poc!reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #n/sfw #sav's saucin'

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flamingo-writes · 3 months ago

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what about Hobie dragging the reader to their apartment after a party and they're babbling and drunkenly hitting on Hobie, completely oblivious to the fact that he's their boyfriend

like "hey, handsome, can you give me your number?" COMING ON HE'S TRYING TO CHANGE YOU AND GET YOU TO BED IN YOUR HOME

I love your work btw

you inspire me to learn english better haha

Pick Up Line — Hobie x Reader

Notes: I wrote this before going to sleep 🫡 it is not proofread (I might do that tomorrow) writing this was so much fun, I only knew what I wanted to write in the beginning, and then I just let everything unfold on it’s own. I didn’t have a title for this until I finished it. I hope you like it!!

Man I have so many requests I’m sorry for posting one thing and then disappearing for months 😭 anyways, here’s the fic:

“No! Put me down! I have a boyfriend!” You groaned with a breathless sigh, feeling the heaviness of the booze weighting down on your body, most of all your mind.

Hobie chuckled as he carried you back to your apartment after one of those self destructive parties the darker alternative scene liked to throw every now and then.

“Oh, you do?” He chuckled with a cheeky tone as you hummed.

“Uh-huh. I do, and he’s the most handsomest, coolest motherfucker…” You replied and let your head fall onto his shoulder as he was carrying you as if you weighted nothing on his arms, with an arm holding your back and on the other your legs. “He’d kick your ass,”

“Oh, would he?” Hobie teased, raising an eyebrow, thinking it was insanely adorable how even on your state you talked so highly and proudly of him in your own way.

“Yup, certified badass shit,” You groaned. “I love him,”

He let out a deep chuckle as he gazed at you and turned on the corner, spotting your flat building a couple of blocks down.

“I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass,” Hobie said, trying to see how you’d react.

“In your dreams,” You sighed deeply.

As he approached your flat building and got inside, in your drunken state probably it would be best to avoid using his Spider-Man skills. You’d either puke, or start yelling that he’s Spider-Man and he wouldn’t risk it. On the bright side, you lived on the third floor.

As he stopped by your door, he gazed at you. “Can hold yourself up for a couple of seconds while I open the door, darlin’?” He asked you, as you giggled.

“Darlin’…” You giggled as you nodded and tried hopping off his arms as he let you down, and you leaned against the wall.

As you patted the pockets of your jacket, you found your keys and took them out as he gently took them off your hands and unlocked your apartment.

In your drunken haze, you started at him with a soft smile, taking in the details. The door squeaking open went unnoticed, your mind was too taken away by Hobie.

“Hey there handsome,” You sighed and closed your eyes. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

“You’re never gonna believe this,” He chucked as he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you in with him. “But I basically live here as well,” he chuckled.

It was partially true. He had his sailboat docked not far from there, but your apartment was wider, and every excuse to spend time with you, he’d take it right away. At this point he spent more nights crashing at your apartment than staying in his sailboat.

“God! What a small world!” You whispered as you let him guide you to your room.

“Isnt it?” He chuckled and as you got to your room, you let yourself collapse on the bed.

“Do you have a phone number I can borrow?” You asked with a cheeky tone, as Hobie chuckled and gazed at you as he looked in your wardrobe for your pyjamas.

Something in his chest squeezing with a sweet nostalgic feeling. It had been the exact same awful pick up line you’d used on him when you’d met him a couple of years ago. The rest was history, and now you were drunk in your apartment with your boyfriend taking care of you.

“What about your badass boyfriend?” He teased as he grabbed your pajama pants and sat on the edge of the bed and helped you take off your shoes.

“God, he’s so badass…I love him,” You sighed sleepily as you closed your eyes, as you slowly came to the realisation that he was taking off your shoes. “What are you doing? Buy me some coffee first,” you giggled with a soft snort.

“It’s too late to find a coffee shop open at this time, luv,” He chuckled and then took off your belt and undid your trousers.

At this point you were more asleep than awake and you let him take your pants off as you kept whining with playful banter. Both hitting on him and telling him about your badass boyfriend. As he managed to get you to put on your pyjama pants and remove everything last bit of uncomfortable accessories or clothes, he helped you get under the bedsheets.

He grabbed some water, aspirins and left them ready on the nightstand besides the bed, knowing the killer hangover you’d be having tomorrow. He then took off his boots, his vest, accessories and got on the bed with you in just his boxers and his t-shirt. By the time he did you were already lost in some dreamland and he simply snugged besides you and wrapped an arm around you before joining you in a deep sleep.

The next morning, he woke up to the sounds of your painful groaning and your husky voice saying:

“I’m never drinking that much ever again…I’m never drinking again, period…”

He opened his eyes, blinking several times before he finally processed your words He chuckled. “You always say that, luv…” He sighed and stared at you.

“Leave me alone…” You whined with a playful voice as you gulped down the water and the aspirins before collapsing on the bed again. “The last thing I remember is Karl and his boyfriend convincing me to do shots with them…”

“That was your mistake, you should know by this point those guys can drink their weight in booze,” He teased.

“I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

“You were about to let Mattea dye your hair in the bathroom in the middle of the party,” He explained, “and then ran off to the closest convenience store to try and buy bleach and hair dye…”

“Ah, fuck,”

“That’s when I thought maybe it was time to take you to bed,” He laughed softly. “So I brought you back,”

“Thanks, baby…” You whispered with a sheepish voice and kissed his skinny shoulder.

“You bragged to me the entire time about your boyfriend, by the way,” He teased.

“What?” You asked confused.

“And the proceeds to flirt with me and ask for my number…”

“Bullshit,” You groaned as you blushed softly, starting to remember some things about him carrying you back.

“You pulled out the same terrible pickup line you used the first time we met,” He giggled and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“Oh my god…” You gasped, burying your face against the pillow in embarrassment. And after a brief silence you said: “did it work, though?” Your questions make Hobie laugh softly as he rolled to his side and looked at you, running his long slender fingers up your spine over the short.

“I’m here, am I not?” He replied with a soft velvet whisper.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie fanfic #hobie imagine #hobie #hobie x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown imagine

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vxiphoid · 1 year ago

Text

SERENE SHENANIGANS

❨ summary ❩ twst › waking them up to tell them stories that don’t make sense

tags ✧ fluff, crack, savanaclaw boys, defo not proofread its like 7 am, cursing but nothing out of the ordinary, ooc(?), ruggie calls you a little shit like once (affectionate), jack is whipped for you

amanuensis’ message ⊹ I LITERALLY LOVE DOING THIS??? my friends hate me for it. but anyways hiii im back after like my month hiatus, how are thy sleeplings?😋 mb guys writers block has been really kicking my ass, i was spitting blanks on paper… i’m gonna hopefully post another pastry emporium soon for scarabia so stay tuned for that‼️

⌜ 300+ e/chara ⌟

♫ sunset boulevard - hohyun

twst masterlist

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— “leona… pspsps….”

— he hums gruffly when his name was called the first time, only opening his eye thinking you called him a second time when it was really just noise that you would make to get the attention of a house cat. he instantly pins his ears back. how dare you. “hmm?”

— “so i took our snail for a walk and i had accidentally left my feet here to wash the dishes because the grass was blue.”

— huh? you could see him trying to process everything you just said as you explained, his lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. it took everything in you not to laugh. he does one of those blinks, the really delayed ones, one eye opens before the other…

— he’s half asleep too so the confusion is just adding up altogether. if chicken scratch wasn’t a writing term, this is literally it in words. its like the books back at home he picks up to read (derogatory) its, what, 4 am? dont do this to him😭

— you’ve never seen him so expressive💀 this definitely makes his eye and ear twitch at the same time. what type of fucked up fever dream is this?? its usually a blessing seeing you as the first thing he wakes up to, not when you wake him up with some bull strung up in a sentence with your beady eyes staring at him while he sleeps. he loves you, yes, but what does he even say to this…

— “what…”

— your forehead met with his chest as you struggled not to laugh at the uncharacteristic break in leona’s voice. how many cups of coffee did you drink? he asks you to repeat yourself even though it kinda a mind mush decision so you did and by the end of it, he looks absolutely restless.

— “that’s… yes. that’s great, herbivore. can we go to bed now?”

— you note that leona is surprisingly patient when half asleep

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

JACK HOWL

— deep sleeper. tug his ear. though he practically springs up before your hand makes contact, giving himself whiplash.

— “jack?”

— almost instantly relaxes when he realizes its you, tail wagging subtly☹️ “hi, baby. s’something wrong?”

— “hiii, do you remember a year ahead ago when i had to go to the dentist to get my spine fixed and the cats were barking at the flying dogs because the sky was in the water?”

— bro feels like he just had a stroke💀 he’s blinking rapidly, rubbing nose bridge as you explain. he really wants to understand, he does, but wtf did you just say??? it was the innocent “hi” before you unapologetically bashed his head in with the entire dictionary. its so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh.

— “jack, this is serious.” even as you told him that, your voice was not steady at all which made his shoulders shake violently in silent laughter.

— “im listening, i swear. tell me one more time?” yk his ass is not listening. he pulls you into his lap while his thumbs idly rubbed your sides, responding to your stories with “uh-huh” and “yeah?” with a lovesick smile on his face.

— eventually holds your face and starts pressing heart squeezing, fluffy kisses all over your face which truly made you more tired then you were. you honestly start forgetting what and where the story was going.

— jack only pauses his kissing attack to respond when you take a small break but even then he doesn’t pull away fully, he’s just speaking against your skin

— “—and the duck had my arm while i was taking it on a walk because gran tammy was in a flying shopping cart.”

— “oh wow. and then?”

— he’s listening but he’s not, mostly because he’s like two seconds away from dreamland and his brain isn’t registering half the shit you’re saying. he wants to see how many stories you can jumble up.

— “yeah, i think it’s bedtime for us…”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

RUGGIE BUCCHI

— omfg he wakes up like a mom. like yk how you would barely touch them and they would gasp like they were just given cpr?? he wakes up like that.

— and you’re just standing there awkwardly 👁️👁️

— takes a quick look around before looking at you. “what happened? is it time to wake up leona already?” you shake your head and ruggie flops back, an arm draped over his eyes. “you scared me… come, lay down with me?” he held his free arm out for you and you did take your place cozied up against his side. to your surprise, you did actually scare the living shit out of him from how fast his heart was racing.

— “ruggie, yk i just found out you’re related to turtles, right? and i had to take uncle bobby to the vet to get a dna test because the fish drowned in air.”

— slow roblox turn towards you but instead its his head as he cranes it down to stare at you. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning and you literally could not look at him or you’d blow your cover.🧍🏾

— “i’m sorry,, what the fuck??”

— he’s genuinely confused, asking you questions about your story while his brain tries to put together the pieces. each question he asks, the more its harder to speak in full sentences other than wheezes

— “what are you laughing at, ya little shit? explain this to me!”

— “i’m trying!”

— and you are😭 its like when you have to explain the family tree really slow bc you cant say, “my father’s girlfriend’s son” without him like ???? and you’re trying to explain it to him slowly, eventually forgetting what you said in the first place…

— “…and the fish drowned in air.”

— “yes.”

— “sweetheart, you still haven’t explained how i’m related to turtles—”

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ladyquietus · 1 year ago

Text

watching Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and knowing Hobie Brown has gotten me feral. Could not stop thinking about being that man’s lover and oh the things he could do. Jesus.

Getting Real

Hobie Brown x Fem y/n: Smut Read

AN: a bit older y/n from another dimension, some smut, fluff, cussing, nicknames, semi age gap, the works.

W: I apologize if I’ve made any mistakes, English is not my first language.

Minors, ageless blogs do NOT interact.

>> Long read ahead

“Oh, I bet you think your honey taste like sugar. But honey, sugar don’t taste that bitter~ Baby, you ain’t sweet. Look at what you did to me~…” y/n sings to the lyrics, tapping her foot on the floor. The music blaring from her headphones, getting distracted from doing homework infront of her.

She adjusted the frames of her glasses, licking her lips and continued humming to the tone. Failing to notice the flashes of bright, sharp lights beaming through the bedroom window behind her.

It was heavily pouring outside, the shut window slowly rutted opened. Slim fingers appeared on the frame, pulling a bit more force Til the figure could come through the window.

The masked vigilante made his way inside, patting off droplets of rain. He took off his mask, letting his full blown hair pop up.

He smirked at the sight of y/n, sitting infront of her desk, Clueless about this presence. The music she was listening and the loudness of the rain made y/n unaware of Hobie approaching her.

Hobie posed finger gun on his right hand, pressing the tips of his fingers on y/n’s upper back.

“Hands where I came see em’ lil’ lady” he jokes, feeling her tensed.

Y/n quickly pulled off her headphones and spun around, looking at a chuckling Hobie in disbelief.

“You ass,” she glared at him, pushing him off.

“You’re gonna get robbed easily love, I won’t be around you for that.” He holds his hands up in defense.

“Luckily, we’ve got another Spider-Man here huh, what’re you doing here anyways?” She questions, crossing her legs on the office chair she was sitting.

Hobie plopped down on her bed, wincing a bit when he noticed a small stain of blood on his shirt on the left side where his ribs lie.

“Shit.” He cussed, pulling off his leathered spiked jacket.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n stood up concerned, slowly made her way towards him and sat beside him.

“Just a graze, don’t worry. Must’ve gotten caught a crossfire between these crime families back home, what nasty lil’ shits.”

“And you didn’t feel that until now? You must’ve been in a load of adrenaline, It must be wearing off.” y/n sighs, kneeling down beside the bed and pulled out a storage box. She took out a first aid kit and sat back again beside Hobie.

“You’re cute when you’re concerned doll, it’s like you’re forgetting I have massive pain tolerance.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, feeling her worry for him a bit made his heart swell.

He always kept his heart up on his sleeve, meeting y/n months ago somehow changed that despite they’re still friends. He also knew that she was older than him, two years older in fact and it must’ve set her back.

They met when he and Gwen came to her dimension, looking for their villain of the week that somehow skipped across dimensions and landed on hers. She was a med student, walked in a parking lot alone at a convenience store. Not knowing she was being followed a creep whom Hobie took action on.

The rest was history.

“Putting your schooling in good use aye?” He jokes again, taking off his shirt after seeing her getting crossed.

Thou shall not poke a pissed off y/n.

“Glad you find this funny, what would happen if you got hit somewhere serious huh Hobie?” She clicked her tongue, throughly disinfecting his flesh wound.

“Relax, you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

Hobie’s relentless teasing didn’t lighten the situation, it just made y/n worry more whenever he’s not around. She would never really know the next time he’ll come back.

He felt it, she was always the worrywart. Somehow he could read what was going on through her pretty little head.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love. So please stop worrying, I’m here with you right now and I promise you I’d want to go through everything for you.” His voice softens, his gaze never leaving hers.

He leaned just a bit closer, caught a whiff of her lavender shampoo and declared that it was his favorite scent.

“Hobs…” she quietly says, feeling the tension between them. Her eyes meeting his, couldn’t help but noticed he kept glancing on her lips.

“Mhm, yes mamas?” He couldn’t help but inch a bit closer, grazing his lip on hers.

Just a lil bit of tease.

The slight cold of his steel lip ring had made y/n’s skin crawl with goosebumps. His rough, firm hand radiated a lot of warmth on hers. Yet his thumb caressing the top of hers made something stir up inside her.

The new nickname he gave her wasn’t helping, she felt a bit guilty she wanted to hear it more from his lips.

He was waiting for her, he didn’t want to freak her out if he was too forward. But he was too damn excited, he’s been wanting to kiss her for a while now.

It was eating him up inside.

y/n closed the distance, letting her lips connected to his but it was only quick and subtle. She was nervous as hell, the last time she kissed someone was her ex-boyfriend a year ago.

“Babe that’s not enough, not enough at all.” His voice was heavy with need, in need of her.

Hobie raised his left hand, enclosing his slender fingers on her jawline. Grasping it softly and pulled her closer, wrapping his other hand around her waist to pull her on top of him.

Y/n squeaked In surprised, Instinctively holding on to his broad shoulders.

“Hobs-”

His lips immediately crashing to hers, he loved how soft it felt and the taste of earl grey tea still lingered on her tongue.

y/n moaned on his mouth, it was music to his ears and he wanted to listen to it more.

The kiss was sloppy, y/n was struggling to keep up. Her nails dug into his skin, making him grow excited beneath her. She surely felt it and subconsciously started to grind on it through his leathered pants.

“Mm mas, You’re making it hard to stop,” he says in between kisses.

She grew too fond of it, she didn’t care if her lips had start to swell or bruised. It was addicting to make out with Hobie Brown.

“Mmm,” were the only sounds she left out. Taking the lip ring between her teeth and pulled slowly.

Hobie’s grip on her waist and thighs got tighter when she did it, almost made him cum on that spot. He swore this woman was gonna be the death of him if she keeps it up.

y/n’s hands started to trail, from his shoulders to his chest. Feeling every detail of him, how warm he was despite the nonchalance he always gives off to most people.

She reached right above his pants, Hobie was sensitive to what she has touched.

y/n dragged a finger over the tent, her wetness grew at the feeling of how hard he was of her.

They both finally pulled away, heavy breathing. Hobie leaned against the headboard, still not loosening his vice on her as if she were to disappear any moment.

Looking at her all disheveled and swollen lips, her eyes kept screaming at him to just take her then and there.

“Love, I’d want you to shoot me in the head if I ever say no to you but have you even done it before? I wouldn’t want to rush you to something you’re not comfortable with.” He reassures in a soft voice despite his lustful gaze.

y/n couldn’t care less anymore, she had too much pent up frustration. She was still a virgin, the only farthest thing she had done with her ex was giving and receiving oral sex.

“Hobs, if you won’t fuck the living daylights out of me- I will be putting a lock on that window the minute you leave.” she huffs, palming his hardness.

“Damn mamas alright, I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles, both of his hands crawling their way to her ass. A bit frustrated that she was still covered in shorts and a baggy shirt, it may look cute on her but Hobie preferred much that she wore close to nothing at all.

“Gonna need these off first,” he mumbles, burying his face on her neck, leaving lazy kisses and soft bites.

“Couldn’t agree more,” she replied, closing her eyes and biting her lip to moan out loud.

Hobie ripped out her shorts, tugging the cloths away and was surprised to feel her wearing a thong.

“Jesus, love.” He smiles against her neck, immediately groping her cheeks and slapping the right.

He pulled on her thong, making her wet slit grind against the thin fabric.

“Fuck, Hobs…”

“You’ve been wearing this kind of panties around me all this time?” Another slap on her right cheek.

“Mmm sometimes,” y/n started to enjoy this too much.

Another slap before his firm fingers started to spread her cheeks apart, groping and gripping them all around.

Without warning, Hobie pushed her over on her back. Making them switch sides. He was on top, wouldn’t even stop smiling at her.

“Do you know how many times I keep thinking about you being underneath me?” He caresses her cheek, placing a peck.

He lowered himself more, placing more and more small yet sweet kisses. Raising the disruptive shirt to her chest til her breasts were on full view to his pleasure.

Hobie already loves them, they were perfect to him. They weren’t too small nor too big, mouth started to salivate at the size of her areolas.

Letting one arm to support himself, he cupped one of her breast and kneed on the erected bud. Licking her lips for another neediness.

“Something tells me it’s gonna be more than once,” y/n managed to whimper out, Hobie taking the whole bud in his mouth.

His hand caresses it’s way to her swollen pussy lips, eating the thin line of cloth. He could feel how needy and wet she was for him, and God she was soaked.

She squirmed, bucking her hips for more of his fingers. Meanwhile, Hobie’s mouth was occupied- switching between one tit to another.

His fingers itched to plunge deep inside her ache, he pulled the thong to the side and started rubbing her clit.

“Hobs… fuck, that feels good,” she mewed, kept on squirming.

Hobie hummed in pleasure, feeling her wither from his touch made him smirk.

Y/n’s body jerked when she felt a sharp and pleasurable pain when Hobie softly hit one of her nipples.

“Hobie!” He chuckles, licking the aching nub soothingly.

“If you’ll let me mas, I need to taste you. Need to fill my hunger for you right now.” He left her chest, licking and biting his way down to her abdomen. Leaving so much marks, he’s gotten too proud and wanted to mark her more.

She couldn’t say anything but whimpers. She nodded her head in response, but this only wanted Hobie to tease her more.

Without warning, both of his fingers plunged inside her. Feeling the walls tightening around him, it was so warm- he started imagining how amazing it must feel if it were his cock.

“Use your big girl words, love.” He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made y/n grip her hands all over his body.

“Hobs- eat me out please,”

Hobie didn’t waste any time, he’d gotten too needy- placing his lips on her sex. It reeked of desperation.

Both his left hand and mouth enjoyed giving y/n too much pleasure, His right gripping on her inner thigh to keep her open for him. Y/n still kept on squirming, her legs begging to close in on his head.

It was too much.

She bit her bottom lip too hard, she swore she was already seeing stars as Hobie kept on abusing her pussy with the combo. She couldn’t help but let her moans out, a few cusses and whimpers of “Hobs” kept escaping from her mouth.

She felt this wave, this urge for release.

“Wait Hobs- Hobie! I’m gonna pee- stop,” she started to pull away, gripping on the sheets as if it were to help her.

Hobie didn’t say anything but looked at her, meeting her eyes but didn’t stop. He went faster, flicking his tongue all over her wet sex and fucking it with his fingers.

“Hobi- Hobie,” she couldn’t escape, Hobie kept on pulling her back. The more she struggled- the closer the release.

“Hobie” her toes curled, letting the wave overcome her.

It came in spurs, she started squirting all over his mouth and face. Hobie immediately started lapping her up, trying to drink every little drop.

That’s a first, even my ex wasn’t able to do that with me. Her chest was heaving, thighs still trembling from the aftermath.

“If I knew you tasted this good, I would’ve done this sooner.” He smiles, giving her pussy one last kiss before kissing her lips a few times.

“Mmm- sorry, I made a mess on your face,” she breathes out, pussy still sensitive as Hobie’s huge girth was pressing against it.

Hobie unzipped his pants, quickly taking it off and freed his aching cock from his boxers.

“You’re gonna have to make another mess, mas. Whole lot more,” grinding the tip at her wetness, giving special attention to her swollen clit.

“Hobie… I just came,” she glanced nervously at his size, it was a good guess of 6-7 inches with a bit of a wide veiny girth.

“Better then, I’ll take care of you darling. Don’t worry, you’ll be wanting it more soon,” Hobie slowly pressed on his hips, the tip slowly making its way inside her folds.

As he leisurely pressed it inside, she could feel him stretching her out. Her walls adjusting to his size, but surprisingly she only felt a scale of 5/10 pain.

“You okay, my love?” Hobie asks, each of his hands holding her hands down. Kissing her cheek and neck to reassure her.

“Mhm, just keep going. Is it even fully in yet?” She groaned.

“Not even close, but fuck I’m only half way through- the tip’s kissing your cervix already.” He laughs a bit, then groaned at she kept gripping around him.

The pain started to retreat, and all she could feel how full she was of him, and he was right- she could feel his hard tip pressing on the entrance of her cervix.

“Hobie, move. Please.” She begged, looking at his pained expression.

“Mmm, love. You’re still adjusting,” Hobie groaned, hearing her say those words almost made him pound into her to oblivion.

“Please Hobs, start fucking me. I won’t say it again.” She says sternly, something inside her grew excited. Her nervousness soon started to diminish and was replaced with yearning.

He looked down on her, wringing her wrists together above her head and slinging his web- bounding them together.

“As you wish.”

He placed one of his hands under her ass, pulling her up a bit and started to pull his length out before plunging it back in her.

Y/n’s bound hands immediately placed themselves at the back of his neck. It was a slow pounding but she was hitting it too deep, the tip pounding her cervix at every thrust.

The squelching noise that both of their sexes made overwhelmed their senses, their animalistic groans filled the room. Both couldn’t care less if their neighbors could hear them fucking away.

Their sweats began to mix, everything what they’re doing made them intertwine with one another. Y/n’s wetness was already covering Hobie’s cock, pummeling her has gotten easier and more of his length disappeared in her.

“Shit, mas, Your pussy’s swallowing me. I can’t stop.” Hobie gritted his teeth, being inside her made him addicted.

She felt that familiar urge again, but it was stronger. Hobie’s merciless pummeling edged her closer.

“Hobs,” she whimpered.

“I know, I know love. Cum all over me, make a mess.” He connected his lips to hers, muffling her loud moans as she let herself succumbed to his commands. Her whole body bucked and quiver against his.

Hobie hissed, sensed he was nearing to his end. But he wanted to finish feeling all of her crumbling first, then pulled out. Just barely, spurs of his hot cum landed on her stomach.

It took them a moment, giving them both time to come back to the real world.

Hobie plopped himself on top of her, she didn’t mind the weight. It was rather comforting, feeling him against her.

Hobie placed himself beside her on the bed, pulling her in- not caring they were both buck naked. Ripping off the web on her knotted hands.

She snuggled closer to him, knowing there was no turning back after what they’ve done.

“I know I’ve said I don’t believe in labels and consistency but, I’d prefer to make an exception for you, my love. Only you. I want this to be real for us,” Hobie broke the silence, playing with the strands of her hair and caressing her back.

“You better keep your word, Hobs. I have liked you for quite some time now.” Y/n started to trace her fingers on his chest, savoring each moment they have.

“I think we’ve gone way past using “like” love, doesn’t really match the way you’ve been needing me earlier.” He teases, groping an ass cheek.

#hobie brown #spider man atsv #hobie smut #spider punk #hobie x Reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown fanfic #spider punk fluff #marvel #smut #hobie brown fluff

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alchemistc · 4 months ago

Text

too many toasters | bucktommy 1/1

Tommy contemplates asking Buck to move in with him.

read on ao3

He's reorganizing a cupboard to make room for the massive crockpot he'd found for a steal at an estate sale (thinking of the stew he wants to make for Evan the next time the Santa Ana's are chasing at their heels) when he notices.

Evan's protein powder, still balanced on top of the fridge because he's hesitant to claim the spot Tommy had cleared for him weeks ago.

Evan's spare immersion blender, brought over because he'd seen Tommy's old-school espresso maker and wanted to try his hand at foam art. Unsuccessfully, considering both of them were avoiding cows milk at the moment.

The spare set of Jeep keys looped next to the garage door, which Evan hadn't asked him to return after Tommy changed his oil, and Tommy had taken to touching on his way out of the house like a wife stroking a token of her husband far off in a foreign country fighting a war.

In the living room, the blanket over the couch is tucked and folded in a way Tommy can never replicate and doesn't try, because he likes the look of it, hanging neatly over the arm of the loveseat.

In the garden, a second set of gloves, too unwieldy for anything but pulling thick weeds.

In the bathroom, the mouthwash Evan swears by tucked next to Tommy's aftershave in the medicine cabinet.

In the bedroom, two hoodies Tommy has stolen and stretched out the shoulders of - a flavored lube in the bedside table drawer that they'd both laughed themselves silly about after one use and Tommy hadn't had the heart to toss in the trash the next morning - three department issue tee's folded neatly in his wardrobe that Evan outgrew years ago and has retrofitted for sleepwear - a book on the bloody history of the potato on top of the ancient PS4 setup Tommy still hasn't moved to the living room.

And more - Tommy can picture them all in his mind clear as day, and his heart lurches fondly, warningly, in his chest.

They’ve settled somewhere between normal and warp speed, now that the early relationship milestones have all been blown clean out of the water. Spare keys exchanged, controversial sexual fantasies shared, shovel talks mostly avoided by the sheer power of dry wit and matching bitchiness, I love you’s exchanged beneath a hazy crescent moon with half a bottle of Merlot drunk between them and the wisteria hanging off his pergola tickling their noses. Tommy counts the time Evan had let him throw the Jeep up on the lift so he could do a full diagnostic rundown, and Evan counts the time Tommy let him Facetime with his nephew in Reno. Milestones, common and uncommon, that Tommy had stumbled through with a hand clenched in Evan’s, absolutely prepared to match both speed and psychosis.

He’s met the parents, at more than just a passing glance with his face covered in the same soot that painted a radius around Evan’s mouth. He’s fully integrated into the 118’s groupchats - every iteration, though he’s fond of the Maddie-Karen-Athena combo that never fails to go for the throat where station fuckery is involved.

They’ve done the stupid zodiac quizzes Tommy’s sister had sent him, Evan curled into the circle of his arms and ignoring the barrage of texts he’d gotten from Maddie after he’d asked her what time of day he’d been born, grinning into the skin of Tommy’s pec at the readout and then promptly reminding Tommy that neither one of them believed in that shit, anyway.

They’ve talked about the future — for themselves, individually, for the possibility with a partner. For each other, if (when, Tommy’s heart whispers) they make a good run of things.

Evan’s lease is up in a month.

They haven’t talked about it.

He only knows because Eddie had mentioned it, about as subtle as a bullhorn, before Tommy had to stop him from gossiping about all the missteps Evan’s had with living with significant others in the past.

(”There are things about Evan I should hear from Evan first,” Tommy had told him, a little more stern than he’d been going for, enough to make Eddie visibly swallow down a barrage of thinly veiled disdain for Evan’s exes.)

Evan hasn’t brought it up, but Tommy knows a little , enough to piece together why he might be reluctant to broach the subject.

But as Tommy shifts the popcorn maker into a corner and removes the toaster he’s been tinkering with to no avail for six months now, crockpot sliding in without so much as a rustle from the other kitchenware stuffed in there, he thinks about the recent quiet that has swallowed him whole on nights when they just can’t quite make the revolving door of their disparate schedules work. He thinks of the times he’s pushed through the door to Evan’s loft, dead on his feet and world-weary after a patient arrived at the helipad DOA — of the sound of his voice falling into a tangent easing something inside Tommy even though his joints and his heart were both still aching.

He thinks of the way Evan looks, toothpaste on the corners of his lips because he’s had a thought halfway through brushing that couldn’t wait the extra forty-five seconds to be heard. He thinks of the way he hates washing his sheets between visits, now, because he doesn’t like losing the faint scent of Evan’s shampoo on the pillowcase.

Tommy closes the cabinet and makes a beeline for the jug of protein powder sitting on top of his fridge. Opens the cabinet door above it and shifts the jug back into the spot he’d assigned it weeks ago.

“Right,” he says, out loud, into the silence of the house.

The house sighs back at him.

---

Tommy is incredibly good at stifling the part of himself that enjoys rom-coms more than any other genre of fiction. He’s had years, decades, to push his soft sighs down below his diaphragm where they can’t hurt him.

Evan appreciates how little fanfare there’s been to most of their firsts. The lack of pressure, the ease with which they’ve approached things that they’d both previously considered watershed moments.

He considers texting Eddie to ask him if Evan has mentioned anything about re-upping his lease. Tosses that thought aside almost immediately, because he can already see the snarky response: There are things about Buck you should hear from Buck first.

He nearly reaches out to Bobby, before he remembers Bobby’s soft smile, a month and a half ago, while Evan carted a squealing Jee-Yun around Hen and Karen’s backyard, his gentle smile when Tommy had handed him a club soda and lime. (”You know, I never thought I’d see Buck settle in to something he doesn’t need a pep talk about,” Bobby had said, and something had unfurled in Tommy like a delicate flower reaching for the sun.) He could. It’s stupid to think Bobby wouldn’t be happy to talk to Tommy about something like this — but there’s a quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him this is something he needs to figure out for himself.

In the end, he keeps it simple. Just enough romance to maybe give Evan a heads up. Two nights after shoving Evan’s protein power where it belongs, Tommy tells him to dress slightly more than casual, picks him up in the Nova he’s been fixing up for three months, drives him up the PCH until the sun is low on the horizon. They watch the clouds spark up in pinks and purples, the sea reflecting colors back, and then Tommy gets them burgers and beers, and they walk them off in the twilight, shoes in their hands as they drift along the sun-warm sand.

Evan points out a cloud that he swears looks like the tree in the front yard of the house he grew up in, and Tommy seizes the moment, shifts the slim box from his back pocket while Evan is turned away. It’s nearly too dark, and they should probably have turned back for the car twenty minutes ago, but Evan has a step count he likes to meet when he won’t be at the gym for a few days, and they’ve got plans for a long weekend.

Tommy takes a deep breath when Evan turns back to look at him. His breath tumbles out in a rush when he catches sight of the box. “It’s not a ring,” Tommy tells him, cringing, hyperaware all of the sudden that Evan would absolutely know that just by the size and shape of the box.

Evan tilts back on his heels. There is a gentle grin on his face — the one he had five seconds before Tommy told him he loved him, the one he wore the first time Tommy threw one of his hoodies on in the chill of the loft and raised the cuffs surreptitiously to his nose, the one Tommy sees every time he presses a kiss to the pink mark over Evan’s brow.

Like he knows.

Like he’s been waiting on Tommy to catch up.

“You could have just said something yourself,” Tommy notes, with a hint of sass, as the picture comes into focus. “You didn’t have to send Eddie in to drop hints.”

Evan bites his lip. “Is that for me?” That cloud looks like the tree outside my childhood home, my ass.

Cheeky. God, Tommy loves him. “Could be.”

Evan crab-hands his way forward, and Tommy shifts his weight back just enough that he misses, in the growing dark. There’s a little helicopter on the keyring he’d bought, no key attached because Evan already has that, and it’s so sappy he’s bound to get half a dozen teasing texts about it the very first time someone at the 118 clocks it. Tommy doesn’t care.

Evan shifts his weight back, drops his hands to his sides. Tommy can see the moon reflecting off the water in the sparkle of his eyes. “Ask me,” Evan says, and Tommy leans in to kiss him, instead.

---

Tommy finds no less than six of his henley’s in the depths of Evan’s closet while they’re paring down the parts of his wardrobe he doesn’t wear anymore. Rather than comment on it, he folds them neatly and adds them to the keep pile.

The Buckley’s, always deciding to be overbearing at the worst of times, try to buy them a new mattress when they hear through the grapevine that Evan is moving.

Chimney spends a week giving Tommy shit about the keyring, and Tommy retaliates by buying Jee a toy copter that lights up, makes noise, and can manage to hover off the ground just at ankle height.

---

“We have four toasters,” Evan comments. They’ve spent an entire three days off unpacking, the both of them unsettled by the idea of leaving boxes stacked around the house, or in the spare room (Thank you, Eddie, for that shared trauma response).

He’s shirtless, rubbing a serum into his skin as Tommy settles in on his side of the bed, soft pink lips parted, favoring his good leg a little. Tommy’s already reaching for the massage oil by the time Evan has finished his thankfully simple skincare routine. Tommy needs to upgrade his stock medicine cabinet, if Evan is going to continue stockpiling a backup of both of their respective skin and hair products.

He waves the bottle of massage oil at Evan when he moves towards the bed, and something eases in Evan’s expression — the reminder that Tommy pays such close attention to him always enough to turn him a bit gooey, and Tommy has never used it for evil, but he could, if he wanted to. “Do you want to get comfortable to sleep, or is this going to make you horny again?”

Evan grins, bright and wide, a little mischievous as he tilts his head and cocks a hip. Down to his briefs, there’s not much left to Tommy’s imagination.

“Not my fault you’ve got magic hands.”

“I’m merely trying to perform a service for my partner who has been moving boxes up and down stairs for a week and a half.”

“I’ll perform a service on you,” Evan rebuttals, tongue between his teeth, and the muscles in Tommy’s groin tighten on instinct, more than anything else.

“Three out of ten for cheesiness. I’ll give you six overall for sticking the landing.”

“That’s at least an eight and you know it,” Evan argues, the side-sleeper knee pillow already out from under the bed and propping up his leg as he shifts to get comfortable.

Tommy doesn’t warm the dollop of oil in his hand before he slides his palm up Evan’s thigh, and Evan makes a noise halfway between a squeak and a snort. He shoots Tommy a bratty look that Tommy wants to devour, but —

He warms a much more generous pour of oil between his palms before he slowly searches out the deepest knots with gentle fingers, and Evan sighs, eyes tipping closed as Tommy works. His dick twitches in his briefs, but Tommy ignores it, for the time being.

They’ll have time for it later.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #if you're interested in my zodiac hc's hop to the end notes on ao3 #theres a few gems in there i discovered when i got curious

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peachhcs · 4 months ago

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new and old faces

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

samy meets a new friend at the 2024 nhl draft and picks up some old ones along the way

2.5k words

i also rewrote this 3 different times so hopefully it’s good. here’s the fic of samy meeting beckett and macklin & becoming besties & also some jealous will while they’re broken up still at the draft! i’m excited to make them closer because i think they’d get along really well :) (also sorry i post at such awk times)

au masterlist

samy squeezed herself past a group of people lingering by the main entrance and stumbled right through the front doors onto the busy sidewalks of las vegas. she breathed out, taking a moment to get over everyone packed into the sphere right now, but her bliss didn't last long when she realized there were people pushed against the barricades trying to get glimpses of what was going on inside by watching the screen light up as different draftees were announced.

"hey! is that samy hughes?" someone called her name causing everyone else to look in her direction. when the fans recognized her face they started going crazy for a picture or an autograph.

usually, the girl wouldn't mind, but right now she just needed a second alone, so she muttered out an apology before racing off to a place much quieter than this. she made it around the back where it was a lot less crowded and fans weren't standing on the sidewalk. another sigh of relief escaped samy's lips and for a moment she wondered why she thought she could manage this by herself.

technically, she wasn't going to be by herself. her and will talked about going to this year's draft together many, many months ago and of course the thought of breaking up didn't cross their minds when they bought the tickets. somewhere in there was will and they were supposed to sit together, but samy managed to pull some strings so she wouldn't have to and she hasn't seen him all night. not yet anyways.

she quickly tried pushing any thoughts of will away because he didn't matter and samy could do this by herself. she just needed a second to breathe away from all the people in there.

when she thought she was okay to head back in someone on one of the lower steps caught her attention. she thought it was a fan or something, but she saw the badge laying beside them and how they wore a freshly pressed anaheim ducks jersey meaning they definitely weren't a fan. actually, they looked nothing like a fan and samy quickly recognized them as one of the newest draftees: beckett sennecke.

the brunette stood dumbfounded for a moment. did she approach him or just leave him be? but then again, she worried why he was out here by himself, so samy decided to carefully walk up behind him.

"you okay?" she spoke up making him whip around in surprise.

he met her gaze, "oh, shit. yeah. sorry. i'm fine," he stumbled over his words realizing samy hughes stood feet away from him.

"are you sure?" samy raised her eyebrow, not really believing him.

"yeah. i just..i needed a second," beckett answered, but it didn't sound too convincing.

"yeah, you and me both. mind if i sit?"

the younger brunette nodded, moving over so there was more room on the step and samy sat down. another small sigh escaped her lips while the two sat in silence for a few moments. both of them seemed unsure of what to say because samy didn't want to prod if he didn't want to talk about it while beckett was just shocked samy hughes was sitting this close to him.

"my first year i was at the draft for quinn i was super overwhelmed. i think i was about..12 or something and i'd never seen so many people in one place before, so i get that all of this can be overwhelming at times," the girl started talking just because she couldn't sit in silence anymore.

"wow, that's young," beckett mumbled in almost disbelief that samy was that much younger than quinn.

the hughes laughed, "yeah, i know. then i did it two more times, but at least for luke we were in the comfort of our own home."

"i don't know, i don't think it's hit me yet that i'm now like..a member of the nhl and i went 3rd overall," the boy smiled a bit.

"you definitely looked shocked up on the screen. congratulations by the way. i think the anaheim ducks picked a good one," she met his gaze, beckett's face instantly flushing at the compliment.

"thanks, that means a lot coming from you. i didn't even think you knew who i was," he admitted shyly while samy chuckled again, her gaze falling back on the busy streets of las vegas in front of them.

"oh come on, you're a pretty big deal in the ohl. i've seen some of your highlights online," her words made beckett's red cheeks even worse because how could someone like her even know about someone like him who was just a hockey player from toronto.

"jeez, thanks. i guess you're a pretty big deal too," beckett managed making samy shake her head.

"i mean, not really. not as big as my brothers."

"well either way, i think you are. i think a lot of people think you are."

his words were endearing because samy didn't hear them a whole lot. she really didn't think people paid that much attention to her, but it was cute beckett thought so because then at least one person saw her as someone a part from her brothers who were definitely big deals.

"i guess i knew this would be a lot, but i didn't think it would be this much. all the press and sudden things i have to sign just kind of got to me and i needed a second. my mom's been calling me, but i've been ignoring her messages," beckett finally opened up more, his voice becoming small.

"hey, i get it. this is a lot and it's okay that you need to take a second. i would too if thousands of people are watching me walk down to a stage after just getting drafted. last year, i think will, ryan, and gabe took a second to themselves during the night because it was a lot," samy reassured the younger boy that he didn't need to explain himself. she's been doing this for four years now and she totally understood that these players weren't gonna have a happy face all the time throughout the night.

"i'm actually kind of glad you came out here because i think i would've started really overthinking if you didn't," beckett laughed a little while samy's expression softened out.

"i know it's corny to say this, but you're gonna be in good hands. if you know trevor zegras, he's close with jack, and i know he'll make sure to take care of you or i'll tell him too if he doesn't."

"wow, thanks. i'll keep an eye out for him then. say you recommended me," that made both of them laugh out loud.

"you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but what made you not choose hockey because i know you were pretty good," beckett asked after they fell into a quick, comfortable silence.

"uh..i guess just that i started really falling in love with soccer as i kept playing. something just called out to me when my coach said she could see me going far, so i picked it up full time and stopped playing hockey competitively," samy shrugged a bit.

"well, you're super good at soccer. i've seen some of your highlights too," the two shared a smile.

one of the back doors bursted open, startling samy and beckett as they spun around, "found him! where have you been?" macklin came through the door with a few other boys on his tail, specifically teddy, cole, zeev, and will.

samy quickly adverted her gaze before she met will's. "oh, hey. sorry. needed some air. i ran into samy," beckett stood up.

"samy hughes? no way, we've been trying to find you since this started," teddy chuckled, quickly bringing the girl into a quick hug.

"hey, it's good to finally run into you guys," she smiled, going to hug cole and zeev as well.

will hung back, putting himself into conversation with macklin so samy didn't have to awkwardly hug them in front of everyone. "how've you been?" teddy wondered.

"i've been good. doing a bunch of camps and stuff, so i've had a fairly busy summer," samy focused her attention on the three boys so she wouldn't look over at will only feet away from her.

"we've just been finishing up ntdp before getting ready for college," cole explained for the three of them.

"i can't believe you guys are gonna be in college already. i remember you guys being babies with everyone else," the youngest hughes teasingly squeezed their cheeks making them push her hands away.

"alright, alright. it wasn't that long ago. you know macklin celebrini, right?" zeev nodded towards the other brunette standing with them.

she looked over at the boy who smiled with a shy wave, completely ignoring will standing right beside him where he was most definitely looking at her now, "yeah, i do. you played for canada in the world juniors, right?"

"yeah, that's me. it's good to officially meet you," the two of them exchanged a quick handshake.

they all started talking with one another, catching up with samy while will lingered in the back. his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets while he watched his friends talk up his ex either poking at her or joking around while they spoke. he tried not to, but his jaw clenched seeing them be so up close and friendly.

will swore that even though he loved them, they always flirted with samy last year whenever she came up to watch the games and the worse part was that she indulged in it every time. will knew samy wasn't that kind of person and she was just super friendly, but the guys knew what they were doing and they knew will liked her, yet they flirted with her right in front of him like right now.

and that really irritated the blonde.

what irritated will even more was how good samy looked. her skin was glowing underneath the harsh lights of the sphere and just everything about her made the hockey player weak at the knees. her hair, her dress, her makeup, everything. will's eyes couldn't leave hers no matter how hard he tried looking away and swallowing his urge to pull her away from all of them.

she wouldn't even look at him. as soon as he stumbled outside with the others, she avoided his gaze and sure, he deserved that, but it still hurt real bad.

zeev was probably the worst one as he grabbed samy's arm whenever she made a joke that made him laugh. he knew everything from will, yet here he was flirting with his ex as if he wanted her.

"will, get over here!" teddy exclaimed and now everyone's eyes were on the blonde. he shuffled his way towards their group between cole and zeev, but across from samy. her eyes were anywhere but him.

"we need to all hang out again. i miss this and being with you guys," cole smiled a bit sadly making the others frown.

"maybe i can see if you guys can come up for the lake house later on? i think that would be fun and i can get the other guys there too," samy piped up and all the guys quickly agreed with her.

"that would be awesome. personal invite to the hughes lake house? count me in," macklin said making everyone laugh.

"i'll ask my brothers, but i'm sure they'll say yes," the girl grinned.

that idea prompted them to start talking about what they'd do when they were there, but will felt like he was physically going to throw up hearing all this talk and thinking about these guys being close to samy in nothing but a t-shirt and her bathing suit. the blonde couldn't think about them eyeing her and he couldn't do anything about it because they weren't together anymore.

he grabbed at zeev's arm, pulling him away, "we should go back in."

"yeah, sure. guys, wanna head back in?" the darker-haired boy called to the others.

they all simultaneously agreed and followed each other back into the crowded arena, trying to stick close together so they wouldn't lose one another.

"you okay? you look angry," zeev wondered out of earshot from the others.

"fine," the blonde muttered because he wasn't gonna get into it about his ex girlfriend when she was right there.

"are you sure?"

"yeah, i'm fine. let's just go back to our seats," will almost snapped. zeev threw his hands up in defense.

"shit, what's gotten into you?" his words blew steam from will's ears as he spun around in the crowd. the two of them stopped while the others were still a ways behind.

"what's gotten into me? you're fucking flirting with my ex girlfriend like i'm not right there!" will let the anger and jealousy get the better of him.

zeev's face twisted, "what the hell are you on about? we weren't flirting with her."

"yes you were. i could see it with my own eyes," will argued back.

"why does it even matter anyway? she isn't your girlfriend anymore. she's your ex," zeev crossed his arms.

"that doesn't mean you can flirt with her! ever heard about bro code?"

"oh fuck off. you're not even dating her anymore and she doesn't even wanna talk to you. sorry she's our friend still, too," they were now arguing in the middle of the arena and people were starting to look.

"yeah, but you've been flirting with her since dev program! even when you knew i liked her!" will's yelling caught the attention of everyone else including samy and the guys behind them.

the other four slowed to a stop while will's face burned hot red in embarrassment. zeev didn't know what to say, eyeing the others behind them. "dude, come on. let's not do this here," the boy tried pulling will away before the others caught on.

"just leave me alone," will mumbled, storming off into the crowd.

samy met zeev's eyes, trying to read what just happened. the younger boy's face burned a little bit too as he avoided everyone else's gaze.

"we're gonna go back to our seats," he mumbled before disappearing as well.

"what happened?" teddy wondered since they were too far behind to hear what the argument was about.

samy had a small inkling, but she wasn't gonna say anything in front of them. even though they were broken up, she could still read will like the back of her hand and she knew jealousy when she saw it. it was clear on the blonde's demeanor, especially when his eyes never left her when they were outside talking.

"i don't know. where are you guys sitting?" samy changed the subject, hoping they'd just drop it too.

"i have more press to do, but we can all meet back at the hotel later?" macklin suggested and the others liked that idea.

"you get 'em tiger!" cole shook macklin's shoulders before the brunette disappeared into the crowd.

"we're sitting high up, you can sit with us if you want?" teddy suggested to samy and beckett.

the two nodded and quickly disappeared into the crowd while samy's scanned for will who couldn't be seen anymore because he disappeared into one of the bathrooms to calm himself down before he exploded on everyone.

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kissforyouu · 8 months ago

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Can you write a drabble of Oc being mad at him because some old fling sent him a pic through his DM’s and she saw, even though he never responds to the girl she still got mad

your eyes go completely wide, your expression just— shocked. wait, no, no! jumpscared is the right word. you grit your teeth while staring down at your boyfriend's phone displaying the nude photo of some other woman. and you couldn't help but think that if this was proof of jungkook cheating on you, you would've gone crazy on spot. but fortunately, it's not.

still though, due to your own suspicions you scroll up the chat only to be met with messages exchanged about 5 months before you two's relationship started. thank fuck, he is not cheating. you just almost had a heart attack.

still, you were mad though. the audacity for this bitch to send nudes to a man who's clearly in a relationship. it's not like jungkook doesn't post you, he posts you on all his socials, there's no way she wouldn't know. shame on her, she's just embarrassing herself.

but that's not even what made you mad, though. it's the fact that jungkook had already viewed it. he's already seen the picture and had left it on seen. despite being glad that he didn't reply or anything, you still couldn't help but feel jealous over the woman. you had everything she didn't - jungkook. he has just left her on seen, hasn't even bothered to block her!

you huff, blocking her yourself. fucking hell. great, now your entire mood's ruined.

"my phone's with you?" here he comes.

you don't say anything bad, clearly upset with him.

"i was looking for it. what'd you do with it?"

why? is he scared i'll find all his hoes?

you sit in silence. there was a big fat frown evident on your face, the face you often make when you're angry.

"y/n?" jungkook stands in front of you, raising his eyebrows wondering what the hell he did wrong again. he doesn't say anything but reaches forward to grab his phone from the grasp of your hand.

the moment he does that, you get up, storming out of his living room and into his bedroom. uh oh, you're stomping on the floor. —eek, here it comes ; jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek once he heard the door shut with a very loud thud. at this point, he was used to your attitude. but he just couldn't figure out why exactly you were mad at him.

—oh, nevermind. the man sighs, running his fingers down his face while he took a short glance at the explicit image sent to him by one of his old flings about a week ago. he didn't know you'd go through his instagram. coming to think of it, your attitude is justifiable. its his fault too, noh? he didn't block or anything. i mean, not his fault he doesn't even remember the girl's name.

but he noticed that you had already blocked her. he takes another deep sigh, eyes staring at his door, now closed. he had to console you somehow.

"baby?" your boyfriend knocks on the door thrice, and when you don't answer him, he decides he's gonna break in. it's his room anyway.

he walks in to be met with the sight of his pretty little (angry) girlfriend sitting on his bed, staring into the nothing of the nothingness. you looked cute, he thought. but now's not the time to pull jokes. (i think)

"my love." jungkook walks closer to you and bends down to meet your eyelevel on the bed. but you look away, avoiding his eye contact. he giggles, accepting the challenge and moving his face in front of wherever you're looking at. three or four of these and you're sick of him already, breaking into a whine as you slapped his shoulder.

"who the fuck is gianna and why's she not blocked?!" how come you remember the girl's name and not him when he was the one who talked to the girl for like, uh, uhhh, like, a few months or weeks, jungkook thinks.

"baby, she sent me that shit recently. i haven't talked to her ever since we both started dating, you know that very well. whatever you think happened, did not happen." he looks at you, waiting for a response.

he did say the truth though. you should—

"you're overreacting." nevermind. "overreacting" is crazy.

"i am NOT overreacting." you break your silence, "what would you feel if you saw the nudes of one of my exes on my phone, huh, jungkook?! bet you'd fucking LOVE that."

jungkook remains silent for a few seconds while you gave him the "told you so" look.

"don't fucking talk to me—"

jungkook flicks your forehead, forcefully pulling your upper body towards him so that your face would be pressed against his stomach. you let out muffled screams, completely annoyed.

"come on, i'm sorry, babyyy. we're fine, okay? i will immediately block and even report if this happens again. y/n—"

"eeek! i said don't talk! now—let me. go!" he had you on a headlock so it was harder for you to get out of his grip. you kept wiggling around like a worm, but in the end, you just give up, accepting defeat.

"i'm sorrryyy, my princess. you want my instagram pass? i'll give you. you know i love you only. i'm sorry i made you feel that way." he cups your cheeks, planting a sweet double kiss on your forehead.

but you just glare at him.

#ask : kmm #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts jk #sanrio girl #sanrio #drabble

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underhousearrestblog · 1 year ago

Text

Lost In Translation | Pedro Pascal

(summary) a drunk confession makes things weird between you and Pedro

(warnings) an age gap (oh the horror)

(pairings) Pedro Pascal x reader

(genre/ tropes) angst, lemon-y fluff, miscommunication, mutual pining, friends to lovers

(word count) 7.7k

(also) Pedro’s point of view (of sorts) is in Italics

(also) minors, scram (I’m kidding. Kinda. I was reading these types of things when I was twelve. I’m not the one to advise anything. Just, please, don’t interact. Better for my conscience and your digital footprint.)

(also) damn – I’m actually doing something here now... a step up from my usual one-post-per-six-months activity...

HAPPY READING!

Things around you blurred, people’s faces were distorted and music was giving you a headache. You lost count how many drinks you had about an hour ago and now you were regretting having any.

Your friends – who were more work acquaintances than friends – had ditched you, you had no car that you wouldn’t be able to operate in this condition anyway and not enough money to call a cab. All you had were a very revealing dress with a deep cut up your right thigh and a phone with around twenty percent charge left.

You stepped outside. Evening air did some but still not enough good for you to feel confident enough to walk those two and a half kilometers to your apartment building. Especially not in these knee-high boots. You would probably end up murdered. Or murdering yourself by accidentally stepping in front of a car. Either way, in a ditch.

You checked over you contacts for anyone who would pick up a phone and pick you up at the club at this ungodly hour. Since you had moved, most of your contacts were pretty much useless for this type of shit.

You pulled out your wallet. There were several business cards that you had gotten since you had started to work as a PR manager for The Last Of Us production team. Your eyes scanned over some of the names. Nico Parker. You weren’t sure she even got her license yet. Bella Ramsey. You knew for a fact she didn’t have a car.

Pedro Pascal.

Shit.

Well, from a purely objective stance, he was the best choice. He could pick you up and he didn’t give creepy vibes so technically you should be fine.

The problem was – he probably didn’t even know who you were. You had been on, like, two lunches with him with purely professional intentions. There had been more people from both the cast and the PR team and, even though you had spoken to him one-on-one multiple times, he had these types of conversations every day.

Worst he could do was say no.

To be fair, he could theoretically also cuss you out.

Or look at an unknown number and not even pick up.

Before you let your mind talk itself out of it, your fingers typed in his number and called.

It was quite chilly, now that you were out in dark alley with only your stripper dress on. It was pretty but god was it doing a shit job at keeping you warm.

The phone was calling and after the very first ring, you started to doubt yourself.

Maybe it would be less embarrassing if you just called your boss? Sure, she would know you indulged in an occasional living of your life but she was a woman and maybe would be more sympathetic than most of the men you worked with...

Two-

- Y/N? – unprepared for Pedro to actually pick up, you startled.

Your brain was foggy from all the alcohol and your body was still trying to decipher the sudden temperature drop so it took you several seconds to even put words together.

- Hey, are you alright? – it was actually him.

He really picked up at a quarter to midnight.

How did he know who was calling?

- Hey, Pedro, - up until this point you had used the formal “Mr. Pascal” just like everybody in your team but now it would feel weird. – So I have a bit of a... situation?

What was the term for getting drunk and placing all your trust in people that you had met two weeks ago?

- Are you alright? – he sounded worried. – Where are you?

Not wanting to appear nervous yourself, you tried to put on a smile, hoping it would make your voice sound lighter and careless.

- I’m at the... – you looked over your shoulder at the sign in front of the club, - Sensual Vibes, - you cringed at the name.

He definitely thinks you’re at a strip club.

- It’s a bar downtown. And I’m kinda drunk and I don’t really have any money, and my asshole friends left, and I’m also kinda col-

- Do you need me to pick you up? – he didn’t sound mad.

If anything – he sounded almost careful. As if he didn’t want to push any boundaries by insisting.

You were silent for a second.

Why was it so hard for you to ask for help when it was clear you desperately needed it?

Fucking pride.

You can cringe in shame tomorrow when you haven’t been murdered trying to walk home drunk...

- Yeah, - you said quietly before adding, - but it’s totally fine if you can’t. I’m sure two kilometers of walking will be fine if I can get off these stripper shoes-

- I’ll be there in twenty, - he said in a voice that left no arguments. – Go back inside. I’ll come in and get you.

- Who was that? – Oscar asked, stuffing the leftover pizza back into the box.

- Y/N, - Pedro put away his phone and went to get his car keys.

- Y/N? Who the fuc-

His hand stopped halfway to close the lid.

- Oh shit, - Oscar laughed, turning towards his friend. – Is that the girl from the PR team? It’s that Y/N?

Pedro didn’t answer and went to get his jacket. Oscar, in true friend fashion, followed him into the hallway, while teasing:

- Is that the same girl who still calls you Mr. Pascal even though you corrected her, like, thousand times?

Pedro just rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly new. Oscar had never really met you – at least, in person – though there was abundance of information regarding you given by his friend every time Pedro had a drop of alcohol in his system.

- You know, if you weren’t so famous, I’d think she actually didn’t even know your first name by how much she uses the surname... – Oscar went back to pick up the leftover pizza, before turning back and looking at his friend suspiciously. – Are you sure she meant to call you? I mean, if she called you by your name, the call might have been meant for another Pedro. All I’m saying is-

Pedro threw him a dark look and turned to leave. Could that be true? You never really called him by his name and he was almost one hundred percent sure you didn’t even have his number...

- Lock up before you leave, - Pedro murmured before opening the door.

You were drunk and alone so, either way, you’ll have to make peace with it.

Once Pedro had ended the call, all you could do was blankly stare at the screen. To be fair, you were very intoxicated so... could you had hallucinated this whole conversation?

Either way – waiting inside was probably the best choice here...

You dropped down on a sofa in the foyer. You felt a headache coming on.

God, this is gonna be embarrassing...

After fifteen minutes of waiting and contemplating about leaving on your own, a hand lightly touched your shoulder, making you startle yet again. You had been way too focused on a painting on the wall to notice anybody approaching.

- Pedro? – your eyebrows shot up as if you were surprised that the person who you had called had actually shown up.

- Were you waiting for someone else? – there was a note in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher and your foggy mind refused to cooperate.

- N-no, - you stammered out. – I just wasn’t sure you would actually show up...

Now was his turn to look surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but, when you lightly swayed on your feet, he quickly put an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

When he lightly pressed his palm on the skin between your shoulder blades, a small shiver ran through your body, making you look up at him. He had probably seen or feel you shiver and had interpreted that as you being cold which was technically true. He pulled off his jacket that looked way too big for you.

You were by no means model-thin but the jacket was oversized on him so it looked like it would end up around your knees.

You shook your head.

- I’m not taking your jacket after you drove all this w-

- Don’t argue, - was all he said before lifting your arm, pulling the sleeve over it and then repeating the same on the other side. – And it’s still longer than that pretty thing you call a dress, - his eyes ran over your half-naked body.

Not in a leering way. But he did gulp when his eyes touched on the slit across your thigh.

Great, there’s no getting this out of memory, he chastised himself for enjoying and savoring you while you were very clearly drunk.

Shit, he’s probably uncomfortable, was all you could think about.

His car was pleasantly warm. You managed to climb in on your own but when it came to the seatbelt, you fingers still lacked focus and were stiff. After two unsuccessful attempts at connecting the two parts, Pedro gently peeled your fingers from the belt, reached over and buckled you in himself.

Before he could step back, you placed your hand on his bicep to stop him. The touch itself was innocent enough but you felt your skin lightly tingling as if you had touched a wire with low charge.

Pedro’s eyes followed you to where your skin had touched his. All he could do was stare at your fingers around his arm.

- Shit, sorry, - you decided he was probably uncomfortable and withdrew your hand, - sorry, I didn’t mean-

- It’s fine-

- I just wanted to say thank you, - your gaze held his. – I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.

There was something intoxicating in doing favors for you. He would’ve driven to pick up any of the women he knew if they were drunk and alone but your trust in him made him a bit delirious.

He wanted you to call him if you ever needed to get home drunk but he also wanted to drive you to a meaningless appointment and pick you up after work.

- It’s fine, - he swallowed before stepping back. – You’re welcome.

He could hear Oscar’s teasing voice in his head, telling him how absurdly romantic it was for him to simp after a girl who probably read his number off a business card when hers had been cataloged in his phone since day one. He probably could recall it from memory at this point.

Pedro closed the door on your side and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. He tried to take in some of the chilling evening air before getting in.

- ... and my friend said just go up to him and ask him out, - he heard you say once he got in, - but every time I looked at his pretty face I chicked out... – you hiccuped, - chic... chickened out! And then-

Your words were slurred and half-coherent.

Pedro started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and then threw a glance at you.

- Who were you trying to ask out?

- I wasn’t trying... And he wouldn’t come anyway...

Alcohol had made you braver and in a stupid attempt to rip your own band-aid off, you turned towards Pedro and whispered in an almost broken voice:

- Would you go on a date with me?

You needed his answer. Tomorrow was gonna be shameful but you could, at least, write this off as a drunken mistake. You had finally done it, you had finally gathered all your courage and taken a step-

But it was the way you had said it. With the accent on the word ‘you’. All Pedro heard was your confession about liking another man and how busy he was, and now you looked at him with glossy eyes and it made him wonder if this stupid man you were talking about had said something to make you insecure. You had just confessed about your crush and needed confirmation that other men – smarter men – would still date you.

But knowing that you trusted him enough to take you home drunk, he knew he couldn’t just confess about wanting you for himself. That was a dick move used by every false male friend around the world.

- I... – you watched his throat work, as he was putting words together, then he ripped his gaze away from where you sat in his car, in his jacket, for the first time ever giving him your undivided attention. – I think you’re amazing and any man would be lu-

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. His figure got distorted through the rapidly increasing moisture.

You are amazing.

Any man would be lucky to date you.

Not me though.

Last one wasn’t said out loud but, in your defense, it was usually never spelled out when a person was rejecting someone.

This was a rejection speech.

He was giving you a rejection speech!

You lifted your hand to silence him. He immediately did and you looked out through the window on your side.

- Please, don’t, - your voice broke at the end. – I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

It was said and done.

You had asked and he had rejected you. Work’s gonna be a bitch but PR, thankfully, was a team effort so you could probably take meetings with another member of the cast and make one of your colleague meet with Pedro. Eventually, your stupid little feelings would stop hurting and you would move on.

Eventually.

Until then you probably should avoid Pedro every chance you got.

It was said and done.

Even drunk, you had realized his incurable crush on you and in a very “I’m well-versed in public relations” manner had put an end to his confession. What was it that you had said? I respect you way too much...

Respect you way too much to outright say “no”.

You had a crush on a man you worked with. Probably someone your age. Probably someone who’s life wasn’t constantly dissected on every media platform.

You were a real pretty girl so even if you never gathered the courage to take the first step, that man you talked about would probably do it for you. He would be stupid not to.

Which meant that at some point you would be seen on set, laughing and kissing some other man who probably had no idea for how long you had lusted after him. And Pedro knew that if your crush forgot what he’s got, he would be way too tempted to teach him a lesson or two about not throwing away life’s biggest treasures.

Maybe even way too tempted to put the fear of god into that man. To threaten to never dare to break your pretty little heart.

But you had good taste in most things. And the man you were talking about asking out was probably good. More than good. He probably was respectful in public and would make you scream his name in private. Buy you a nice dress and later rip it off your body. Pick you up to take you places and then wait patiently for you to come back to him.

You deserved the best. And you were probably way too good for that boy you liked. Granted, Pedro thought you were way too good for basically everyone, including himself, but he also wasn’t one of those men that would pass on an amazing woman all because “she’s too good for him”.

Nah. He knew he would greedily accept your love and lust if only you offered. He might have thought you were too good for him but he also knew there were many things he could provide for you. He was successful, had money, a stable job, he was mature and wouldn’t play any games. Besides, he was damn near sure he loved you and even with you reciprocating just half of that love and affection, it still would be perfect.

- What’s your add-

Once he looked over to where you were watching him just a minute ago, Pedro found you fast asleep with your head pressed against the window. His jacket, way too big for you, had fallen down your shoulder, revealing that distractingly little napkin you bravely called a dress.

Shit.

This was definitely not good.

If he had to bring you back to his home, he knew he would see ghosts of you every time he stepped inside his own house. And that would be bad. Right now you were already everywhere at work, he couldn’t afford to let you make yourself at home in his private space too. Damage would take months to undo.

He contemplated waking you up but even then there would be no guarantee that you would even remember where you lived in this condition.

Pedro started driving towards his own home slower than necessary, hoping you would wake up at some point and give him your address.

All he could hope for was that Oscar had already left because, otherwise, Pedro would never hear the end of this...

Shitshitshit.

Your head was hurting even before you opened your eyes. That was never a good thing. Once you did, you were met with a semi-dark room that was vaguely lit by a small lamp left on on the nightstand.

Where the fuck where you?

This looked way too homey to be a hotel and way too impersonal to be someone’s bedroom. You lifted the thick blanket that was draped over you to check out if you weren’t missing any clothes. Or some more important things, like body parts.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion when you were met with the same light blue dress you had worn at the club with just more wrinkles in it now. All you were missing where the boots that you saw placed by the bed.

You checked the small alarm clock on the nightstand.

5:06 AM.

It was early.

On a day off, you probably wouldn’t have woken up this early but your body had most likely dealt with the alcohol in your system and had woken up naturally once you had sobered up.

Then you noticed the small note placed next to the clock.

I’m not sure how much you remember but I picked you up from a club. You didn’t give me an address before passing out, so I brought you home with me. You’re in my guest bedroom. I’m in the one down the hall. I got you some aspirin and water. And some clothes.

Pedro.

There was something else written on the paper but it was scribbled out. You lifted the note and placed it before the small lamp, letting the light shine through.

Cute dress.

You smiled, however that smile lasted for exactly one second before you remembered the conversation in the car. You had asked Pedro on a date. He had given you the “there’s more fish in the sea” speech.

God.

You had excused your bravery with “you can live today and be embarrassed tomorrow” but now, when tomorrow was finally here, you weren’t sure it was actually worth it.

Thank god you didn’t work closely with Pedro because this would be ten times more awkward if you were an actress.

You quickly changed into the clothes Pedro had left for you. It was a white t-shirt with something spelled in a foreign language you didn’t understand. The shirt reached down to your knees and covered more than your dress had. You could technically leave in just the t-shirt but your sudden sobriety would probably result in you freezing to death so you decided to wear sweatpants as well. You rolled up the ends of the pants that were too long, threw a glance in the mirror and decided that you looked presentable enough.

Once you left the guest room with the dress still in your hand, you tried to find out if Pedro had already woken up. It seemed unlikely. It was very early.

And that seemed to be the truth, as none of the lights were on in neither the kitchen nor the living room. Or in the hallway.

Thank god the key was still in the door and you didn’t have to wake him up to unlock the door. You carefully tiptoed through the hallway and sneaked out through the front door, leaving nothing but a vague scent of your perfume and a note on the living room table.

Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

That’s exactly how Pedro found your note three hours later when he woke up. Note had no name. Apparently, you didn’t assume he rescued women every night and didn’t think he would mix you up with someone else.

As if he ever could.

He was quite grateful to have missed you, in case you remembered how he had come onto you in the car. He didn’t want a pitying glance and you saying sorry, as if you had anything to be sorry about.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

Pedro let out a bitter laugh. That’s what you sign at the bottom of a work email, in hopes the recipient never truly reaches out for anything. You just felt like you owed him.

three weeks later

Pedro felt somebody brush a makeup brush over his temple to add some last touches before the filming started. People were running around, adding and taking down some props. Camera crew were doing some last check-ups. And in what Pedro thought was a torturosly ironic touch to an already important scene that caused some nerves to resurface, you were there.

In fairness, you weren’t here on your own and by your own wish. Some people of the PR and social media management teams were here, hoping to take some photos of behind the scenes for marketing.

And they were all pretty irrelevant because his eyes didn’t leave you for one second.

Pedro, Bella and some of the others were placed good ten meters from where you were standing by the door of the room that seemed to shrink every second. You were either unaware of his intense gaze or simply ignored it.

Pedro didn’t know which one would piss him off more.

There weren’t many things that didn’t irritate him these days. Oscar had started to call it Y/N withdrawal. As if he was an addict. A junkie who’s been cut off from his favorite drug of choice.

At first, Pedro was understanding. You probably felt weird you had clocked him liking you and wanted space. Fine. He would be an asshole not to give you space. Then he called you but the call always went to voicemail. On week two he had the first PR dinner since ‘the incident’ and when you didn’t show and had sent one of your assistants in your place, it only soured Pedro’s mood. The assistant had lied about you not feeling well but when you were still nowhere to be seen on the next meeting – and the next – he knew it was an excuse.

You were making excuses.

Week three took the crown when at one of the advertisement meetings that was mandatory for all cast and production team members, you had apparently ‘had a doctor’s appointment’.

Now he was pissed at the whole world and especially himself for fucking this up. You were a smart girl and he should’ve expected you to put two and two together that night. And, in addition, he was just a tiny bit pissed at you for not giving him a chance to apologize.

When you excused yourself and went into the kitchen, Pedro quickly stood up.

- Sorry, - he murmured to the makeup artist. – I’ll be right back.

Filming was set to start in ten minutes.

That was all he needed to say the things that needed to be said.

You were facing the open fridge when Pedro walked in. You read something that was written on the side of what looked like a protein shake.

You looked good. There were no signs of tiredness in your eyes. No sluggish movements. No yawning.

That was good, Pedro tried to tell himself.

Would it hurt for you to be a little affected that he was absent from your life for three whole weeks?

Then his eyes caught a thin bracelet around your wrist. It was shiny and had a minimalistic heart charm on it.

Pedro recalled Oscar once mentioning getting something similar to his wife because “the only time women wear heart jewelry is if it’s gifted by a man who’s interested”.

It was quite a big assumption that the bracelet was, one, a gift, two, from a man, and three, that it was the same moron you wanted to date. And yet it only fueled Pedro’s irrational jealousy and anger.

He let go of the door and it fell shut with a loud bang.

You jumped.

- It’s really unprofessional, you know, - Pedro accused. – This behavior of yours lately.

It only took a second for you to go from a startled look to a glare. You put the drink back in the fridge and shut the door. Loudly.

How matching.

- Excuse you? – you pushed back.

- I get that you’re avoiding me and that’s fine but you also have a job to do, - he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. – You’ve missed several PR meetings and allowed your underage intern to replace you.

You chuckled under your breath and looked away.

So that’s what this was about...

- So you feel a bit neglected because an intern – highly skilled, might I add, - was attending a few of the meetings? Is he not good enough for you?

Pedro looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

- I don’t care if he’s as useless as a toddler – don’t change the subject!

You blew away a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

God you looked hot angry.

When you tried to side-step him and leave, Pedro followed your movements until his back hit the door, leaving you without an escape. He leaned against it, wrapped his right palm around his left wrist and looked down at you.

- You’re avoiding me, - he was glaring at you.

You glared back.

- No shit.

Pedro had expected more resistance. Or more excuses. He definitely expected you to look at him with a confused stare and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. Now that you had done none of that, it felt a bit weird to “confront” you because you had had every right to avoid him.

- I’m just making sure you don’t get a write-up for skipping work, - even though the words were genuine, the tone was rude and you recoiled.

You looked up at him as if he’d slapped you.

- Are you threatening to snitch on me for skipping few meetings?

His eyes widened.

Shit.

- That’s not wh-

- Fuck you.

Now he looked like you had slapped him.

This was going downhill and fast. He had never accused anybody of bad work ethics and you had never cursed at someone for essentially doing nothing wrong, really.

You had spent three weeks, trying to soothe your ego. But rejection still stung. And, for the first time in your life, your personal feelings had affected your professional life. There was no excuse for that.

So you exhaled, counted to ten, got to five and decided to push your emotions down. You didn’t actually believe that Pedro would ever attempt anything to harm your career but he was still a big star and, would somebody come across this very unprofessional conversation, your future job opportunities might be in jeopardy.

- Listen, I’m sorry, okay? – you said, then quickly added. – For missing those meetings.

You didn’t want to voice that you were also apologizing for taking rejection badly.

Even though, you were.

- Won’t happen again.

His eyes softened.

- I’m sorry too, okay? – he lifted his hand to place it on your shoulder or upper arm but decided against it in the last second and let it fall back against his side.

You laughed. Genuinely.

- What are you sorry for?

- For what I said in the car, - he explained.

Your eyes returned to the startled expression that they were in when he first came in. You had wanted to avoid that night but he had brought it up voluntarily. He could see your prey-like expression and shook his head:

- I didn’t mean... – he got quiet for a second. – That would be a lie. I did mean it. But I think I could’ve worded it better. Maybe. Or explained it to you when you were sober...

I didn’t mean... That would be a lie. I did mean it.

His words, even though soft and placating, still grazed your heart like a knife.

You could respect him for not leading you on.

Leading someone on was still worse than letting somebody down gently.

Be a big girl and accept defeat like a champ, you motivated yourself.

- That’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything.

You had realized he liked you, damn near loved you, and it didn’t mean anything.

His love meant nothing.

Pedro swallowed and nodded. When you gestured towards the door that he was still blocking, he stepped aside, letting you leave.

- Did you feel harassed by me? – he asked before you left.

You laughed. But when you realized he was dead-ass serious, your smile fell.

- What?

- In my car. That night. Did you feel harassed by me?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Even though it was absurd for him to ask this, you felt warmth engulf your heart.

He’s making sure you didn’t feel unsafe with him...

God.

He’s gonna make a great partner to someone someday...

- God no, - you grinned, trying to put him at ease.

- You sure? – he asked.

- Of course, - you gave him a bittersweet smile. – How could I have felt harassed? Nothing happened.

Nothing happened, as in, I asked you out and you turned me down, simple as that.

Nothing happened, as in, you figured I liked you and that realization meant nothing, I still mean nothing to you.

When week four rolled in, things had went back to normal. The weird kind of normal. The professional kind of normal. You were present in all PR meetings you needed to attend, Pedro went out of his way to treat you like a friend.

He had started bringing these weird mini cupcakes from around where he was living. Every meeting, he would show up and give them out to all, usually five or six, attending persons. He would never skip you, giving you exactly the same amount of pleasantries, sweets and eye contact as to every other person from the cast and PR teams. It was as if he had timed your interactions to make sure you felt identical to everybody else here.

You translated his actions as he’s making sure to drive home the point of “I treat everybody like this, don’t make this weird, you’re not special in that sense”.

He translated his actions as making sure you saw that even after you rejected him, he still wouldn’t be passive-aggressive towards you and wouldn’t exclude you from anything.

“Don’t make things weird” had become a motto for both of you, at this point. This was exactly why Pedro had advised Oscar to also invite you to the party he was throwing in honor of ending the shooting of one of Oscar’s movies. Even though Pedro knew you would show up all dolled up and, most likely, with a plus one, as suggested the invitation.

And “don’t make things weird” was exactly why you had accepted, even though the last time you had attended a formal function, it had ended with you at a club and with no ride or money.

You had showed up in a black sleeveless dress that reached your knees. Pedro had had exactly one drink and he was using the hell out of it as an excuse why he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – take his eyes off you. The dress was simple and maybe exactly because of that your own beauty shone through more than usual when there was nothing to distract people from it.

Then you turned towards the small home bar and his eyes slid over your frame, landing on the dress’ very deep slit. This time it was on the behind of your dress’ skirt.

You and the fucking slits. Making every piece of clothing look like it was designed specifically for you...

- Thank god moods are not contagious because this would be the saddest happy event ever, - Oscar’s hand landed on his friend’s shoulder, as he followed Pedro’s gaze down to where you were standing.

Pedro unintentionally moved to block you from his friend’s eyes which came as a surprise to both. It was very clear that Oscar had no negative or positive intentions regarding you so it was even more weird when Pedro felt small pang of jealousy when he saw the bottle of wine you had gifted Oscar for hosting the party.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, amused.

As if asking, really?

You, on the other hand, were doing everything to avoid Pedro that evening. He looked good. He looked so handsome even though he was one of the very few men here who had chosen to wear a sweater instead of a suit or a dress shirt. You definitely needed a distraction and given how it had ended with drinking last time you got drunk, you avoided alcohol like it was the plague, only drinking virgin cocktails.

The biggest problem with avoiding someone is that that person is living in your head rent free, in order for you to be where they are not. Which meant that before you avoid them in a room, you have to check specifically for them. The biggest support for you in this was the fact that Pedro seemed to avoid you as well, so it was quite easy to keep your distance.

- Is there a guest I’m not aware of? – Oscar humored lightly. – Or are you stalked by someone?

Only the ghost of your best friend.

You smiled, shook your head and asked a few questions about the movie to whose ending this function was dedicated to. After some time he excused himself and said to go look for his wife but before he left, Oscar casually threw out:

- I’m sorry things are weird between you and Pedro right now, - he seemed apologetic.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Pedro had clearly told him about what had happened.

It was already embarrassing enough for you to realize that Pedro had been sober that night and remembered every word your drunk self had confessed. And, to add insult to injury, the rejection still kinda stung. But he had clearly told everything to another man. And that one made you even more upset because you knew Oscar by reputation only but that reputation was quite good. So he probably felt sympathy for your little groupie act by asking out someone clearly out of your league.

You averted your eyes. How many other people knew?

- Look, he’s a grown ass man, he’ll be fine, - Oscar put his hand on your shoulder in a pacifying manner. – It’s just that this was his longest crush ever so it will take more time than usual...

Because you actively tried to block out his voice, the words didn’t register at first. And, once they did, they still didn’t make much sense.

- But it will-

- What did you just say?

Your tone was harsh and it made Oscar do a double-take.

- I... I’m not trying to pressure you into anything by what I said about being his longest crush, if that’s what you meant. I promise.

Your eyes searched his face for any signs of amusement or humor... or confusion. When you didn’t find any, you put down your drink and turned your full attention towards him.

- What did he tell you happened that night?

Oscar looked at you like you were a child asking to explain the alphabet.

- I’m not sure I should-

- He clearly told you something! – you raised your voice – not loud enough to be heard by everyone but enough to make some of the closest people turn heads.

Oscar nodded:

- All he told me was you figured out he liked you. And you don’t like him back, - Oscar used the tone he probably used with his kids. – And that’s fine. You have every r-

- What kind of fairy tale did he fed you? – your first thought was that Pedro had lied to his friend.

But why would he ever do that? What could he possibly get out of telling people you were the one who rejected him? Letting someone down wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make you a bad person.

- He rejected me! I straight up asked him out and he gave me the whole speech about there being men who would be oh so lucky to date me. And then he kept on friend-zoning me for a month just for funsies. Making sure I knew my place was with all the other people who worked for him!

When you turned to leave – and maybe give that free alcohol a shot or two – Oscar unceremoniously grabbed your upper arm and turned you back.

- That can’t be true, Y/N! You were the one drunk! Are you sure you remember everything okay?

You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your arm away.

- I was drunk, not stupid! I know rejection when I receive one!

Oscar’s grasp wasn’t hurting you or anything but it probably looked like you were fighting from afar, at this point.

- Look, Y/N, calm down, - he lowered his voice so other people wouldn’t hear a thing. – All he told me was that you had confessed liking someone you worked with, and-

- And who do you think that someone from work is, genius?

You could almost hear gears turning in Oscar’s head.

- So... When he said that you had asked if... When you were wondering if he would date you, it wasn’t because...

You waited.

- ... it wasn’t because you were insecure about nobody being interested in you?

- Why would I give a shit if other people were interested in me?

It was a good thing you were sober because it was taking a good amount of time to understand this even sober. Your eyes widened when you finally put the pieces together.

The way Pedro looked almost crushed when you had interrupted him to silence him in the car.

Please don’t. I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

Could he had mistaken it for rejection?

You silencing him out of respect so you didn’t have to tell him you didn’t want to date him? Did he thought that you were thinking his ego couldn’t handle being rejected by someone who was not rich or famous?

Shit.

You tried to find his pink sweater somewhere in the crowd. He couldn’t have gone home already, could he? You had relatively little knowledge of the layout of Oscar’s house so your best shot was to run into Pedro somewhere.

Your wish manifested a bit too literally, when you roughly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

Pedro’s fingers wrapped around your upper arm in the same manner Oscar’s hand had just mere seconds ago. Just to drive home the point of your attraction to him, a small shot of electricity shot through your arm whereas nothing even similar had happened when his friend had touched your arm.

- Careful, - he steadied you and then removed his hand.

When you looked up, you noticed that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You thought you had gotten over this awkwardness...

Guess not.

With music still sounding throughout the house, you looked around, grabbed the front of his sweater and pushed him into one of the many guest bedrooms here. Once you closed and locked the door, you turned towards Pedro who was looking a bit thrown out of the boat.

For one moment, nobody said anything. Then you pushed down the dress that had ridden up your thighs while you were frantically looking for him throughout the house, and stepped closer to him.

The height difference was always a turn on for you but right now it did nothing but annoy.

- Sit down, - you commanded.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed.

When he looked up at you, you realized that you probably shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Your foggy brain finally decided to give you back few of the memories missing from that night month ago.

When he had gently lowered you onto the bed and you had finally woken up just in time to see him drop down on his knees to take off your boots. Out of concern, he had looked up at you with a very similar expression as he was having right now. With his lids lowered, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

When his brows furrowed in confusion, unaware of your flashbacks, you snapped out of it.

- Why does Oscar think I rejected you in your car that night? – you demanded before you lost your courage.

Pedro looked away.

You had had a long day at work today and still most of your energy had went into dodging Pedro at every corner, trying to not even look at him, while simultaneously keeping an eye on him at all times to not accidentally get close. Your patience had worn out long before you got here.

You unceremoniously grabbed his chin and turned his head back towards you.

- Look, I’m sorry I told him, - Pedro raised his eyes to meet yours. – I needed to tell someone and you were avoiding me and refused to even look at me!

You shook your head and tried to step back before he grabbed your hand in both of his.

- I’m sorry.

- What are you even sorry for? – you ripped your hand from his. – For lying?

When all he did was stare up at your in confusion, you took a step back to keep some distance.

- Do you get pity points or something for act-

Pedro stood up and you lost any advantage you had due to height. When he advanced towards you and you still stepped back, he caught your wrist, refusing to let you leave.

- Stop running from me! – he demanded. – Talk to me!

Fine.

- Fine, - you still tugged on your arm and he still didn’t let go so at some point you had to give up on it and leave your hand in his grasp.

- Tell me why you were avoiding me for a month, - he used a painfully soft tone as if afraid you would run at the very first sign of confrontation.

You were silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to sound like a mature adult.

- I guess... – you sighed and decided to just get over it. – I was hurt that you weren’t interested in me when I asked you out that night after you picked me up. I was butt hurt and it wasn’t fair to you because you have ever-

You didn’t get to finish when he closed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You would’ve pulled back by surprise if not for Pedro’s hand cupping the back of you neck.

Your heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and stop altogether. After the initial shock, you slid your hand into Pedro’s hair and lightly pulled him back by it.

Amusement danced in his eyes with a light shake of his head.

- To think we could’ve done this weeks ago, - he laughed.

You felt a bit giddy inside, still not really comprehending every piece of this misunderstanding but, in your defense, it probably had been quite hard to catch any love signals that night when you were wasted.

- You want me to ask you out again? – you proposed.

- Nah, - he shook his head. - I’ll do the honors, - he cleared his throat. – You’re going on a date with me.

You cocked your head.

- Are you asking or telling?

- I assumed you were a sure thing, drunk words being sober thoughts and all that...

This felt a bit too good to be true but you weren’t going to question it. Once you both left the guest room, with Pedro’s hand still wrapped around yours, and turned the corner to return to the party, you found Oscar leaning against the wall in the hallway with a drink in his hand and an amused look in his eyes.

- No freaky business under my roof, - he gave his friend with a stern look. – That’s like the only rule I have.

Only when his eyes found your intervened hands, he chuckled under his breath.

- Love must be hard when you’re both idiots, huh?

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #imagine #oscar isaac

523 notes · View notes

babygorewhore · 10 months ago

Text

Reunion

After moving back for college in Hawkins, you decide to reach out to your childhood friend and long time crush, Eddie Munson. And after a surprising reunion, he takes a step he’s always wanted to.

Warnings!! Smut! Riding! Unprotected sex! Porn with little plot! Eddie is a simp. This is extremely short but it’s okay.

Female in photo is just for aesthetic! Also thank you to @reidsbtch for reassuring this isn’t garbage lol. Not proof read since I wrote it in a day okay bye.

Moodboard

Moving back to Hawkins for college was the last thing your parents wanted but since you were way past high school, they could only accept it. But it wasn’t the only reason you moved back into a small apartment.

Eddie Munson. You were desperate to see him again after so many years.

You both met at music lessons during childhood. He didn’t have his long curls that you saw when you found him on instagram several months ago. He was so cute. He posted pictures of his band, Corroded Coffin, his guitar and his young friend who he took under his wing. Dustin. When he wasn’t performing he was an enthusiastic bartender that he often encouraged people to go too.

And he was also a pothead. Which ensured your plan on how to meet him again.

You underwent your own transformation. You always had been an alternative but you became a fully gothic dressing woman a few years ago. He wouldn’t recognize you now unless he looked closely.

You reached out to him via Instagram story for a meeting for weed sale and he was quick to respond. He didn’t like any of your pictures but he didn’t follow you. Eddie still had his dramatic speech pattern as he responded to you and gave you a place for the sale. A place in the woods.

Your boots were crunching on branches and grass as you made your way to the table he described in the message. Sitting down, you picked at the peeling nail polish on your fingers as you waited.

“Sorry about that,” His voice caught you by surprise as you turned. “My band practice was running behind and I swear I had a million missed calls from Dustin who needs me for girl advice which obviously I don’t have success with but hey who’s gonna teach him. And then my van didn’t want to start.”

He slid on the bench across from you with a small box. “Oh I’m rambling, but anyway, hi, it’s nice to see you,”

You were trying not to grin the entire time he spoke. He still had the same over-explanation and frantic gestures as he shuffled. Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt and black jeans fit him well. Exposing his tattoos and his guitar pick necklace.

He finally looked at you with soft brown eyes. But no recognition seemed to pass. He extended his hand to shake yours. “You’re- please tell me I didn’t forget your name?”

You told him, waiting for him to get the hint as you released him. His head quirked to the side. His lips pulled between his teeth as he studied you. “Sorry, you just-you remind me of someone I knew years ago. But-“

“Eddie. It’s me. Remember? Remember how we were friends as kids? we played music together at the store. Piano and you learned guitar. You hated sitting still and your hair was buzzed-“

“OH MY GOD!” He almost fell off the bench. “It’s you! Oh shit!”

You were laughing now, a full belly laugh as you saw him move off his seat and he barreled towards you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and head. Your nose was pressed against his chest; smelling his scent that was warm and comforting. “It’s so good to see you too.”

Your own hands were around his waist since you were still sitting but Eddie pulled back. And then he bent down, cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped, your eyes wide open at the pressure of his mouth. His lips were soft and then you relax your shoulders. But a second later he pulled back and stood away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that was-it’s just I haven’t seen you in so long.” He was breathing audibly and your cheeks burned.

“It’s-it’s okay Eddie. I really sat this whole thing up so I could surprise you.” You paused. “And oh no you’ve got lipstick on you.”

You went to wipe it off and he froze as your thumb swiped across his lip.

“Oh I don’t mind. I’ve been wanting to try out that color.” He looked so proud of himself for the joke. But he leaned in close again, “is that…okay? If I kiss you again? I just want to show you how much I missed you,” He flashed his eyebrows and you giggled.

Kissing led to you both stumbling to his van, he barely shut the door when you both fell on the backseat. Eddie’s lips traveled all over your neck, collar bones and finally settled to suck the place underneath your jaw. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He muttered lowly as you arched into him.

Your hands tore at his jacket, years of pent up energy and desire for him coming through. Eddie paused, hovering over your mouth. “Is this okay?”

“Shut up, Eddie,” You flipped him over, pulling off your shirt, your tits bounced and his eyes darkened as he rolled his hips underneath you. His jeans were tight against his hardening cock.

His hands flew to massage your chest, you started unbuckling his pants and yanked them down his legs. His cock slapped against his stomach and his eyes widened as you wasted no time sinking down.

“Fuck,” He moaned. “God I’ve wanted this so long and it’s-“ He rolled his head back as you took control, bouncing harder as he filled you up, your wet pussy greedily taking him.

Eddie’s hips roughly thrusted into you as your hands landed on his shoulders as you steadied yourself. “Fuck, Eddie, I-“

Your core was growing wetter as your peak was approaching. His hand drifted to your neck, squeezing lightly. “Come on, give me your cum, baby. Give me what I’ve always wanted.”

Your stomach released as you came around him, your movements getting sloppy as you shuddered around his dick.

“Fucking hell,” Eddie spilled inside you. “Baby, you’re so fucking hot.”

His words made you chase your orgasm and then you slowly climbed off. Kneeling on the floor. Eddie caught his breath before turning towards you and cupping your cheek. “That’s one hell of a reunion, sweetheart.”

You grinned. “Glad to see you wanted it just as much as I did.”

Eddie sat up. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself? You’re my dream girl. I can’t believe you even let me kiss you.”

You blushed even more despite the fact that you just finished fucking him a minute ago. The creamy fluids in between your thighs sticking together as you were kneeling.

Eddie smirked and shifted on the seat. “I want you to sit up here, baby girl. I want to taste how well we mix together.”

Tagging @xxhellfirebunnyxx @slvt4jamesmarch @imyourdaninow @chrrymunson @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @take-everything-you-can @lesservillain

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie smut

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yetanotherhiddlestoner · 2 months ago

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(MDNI 18+, smut will be eventually happening in this story line but still please respect the MDNI)

(Plus size reader x Negan. In the world of the dead rising, you just happen to fall for the one fucked up person who has no interest in you. And I am aware the timeline doesn't add up but for the story I had to make the timeline longer than a couple months.)

~Thank you to all that read the first chapter and commented, means a lot that you like this story. Sorry for taking so long to post a second chapter, I have at least 2 more chapters up and ready to post when I can.~

(Word Count - 2262 Words.)

~<3~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWO - I FELL HARD, YOU'LL FALL HARDER.

~<3~-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were out scavenging when the fall of Negan happened. You didn't want to fight anyone, so Rick asked you to go during that time, making your way on a weeklong journey for supplies. You weren't sure what you to expect when you returned home, was it still going to be there, was it going to be taken over by Negan fully or would Rick win this war. You didn't know and you were worried, you were uncertain what you would do it Negan came out the winner.

You approached the gates carefully looking around for the day shift guard. You sighed relief when Daryl popped his head up and smiled at you, the gates opening before you drove your vehicle inside slowly.

"Welcome back you, how was your mission?" Daryl said hugging you tightly. "Was a great success, the truck is full of food, ammo everything I could pick up and stack I did, even managed to grab a little bit of petrol for the car. We should be ok for a couple weeks." You say as you open the door and jump out of the truck. "Well that is good news Y/N but I got some bad news that you may not like unfortunately." Daryl said looking over to the jail cell that was located under the first house on the street. "What?" You look over and don't see anything, was someone hurt, dead or worse. "Rick, well he, kind of let Negan live and bought him back as a prisoner" Daryl says waiting for your response.

You felt yourself become sick, why would Rick do that? "But Y/N he can't hurt anyone, trust us, he is safe and locked away." You walk over to the barred windows; you can hear him whistling before he spots you. "Hello Y/N" Negan says smiling. Daryl comes up behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder offering a small comfort. "You look amazing doll, have I ever told you that? Loving the long hair on you, suits you." You want to believe him, but you tell yourself that he is just doing this to get under your skin, to get a reaction out of you.

"Daryl, doesn't she look wonderful, you are a fucking lucky man to be hers." "We ain't dating." Daryl says to Negan, he lets out a long whistle, "Well shit why not?" Negan probes, feeling a bit of jealousy flowing within him. "We're just friends Negan; not that its none of your business who I date anyway" you say.

While you weren't going to deny Daryl was hot, and when you met him you thought maybe if given the chance you might date him but after a while your love for him turned to more a friendship love and you and him were more like brother and sister. "Let's just get this truck unloaded Daryl" you say pulling him away from the prisoner. Negan watches you go, he takes in how your jeans hug your curves tightly, how your hair flows underneath the bandana you are sporting and how amazing you look covered in knives and guns. This wasn't the same scared girl he rescued years ago, this was a woman who found herself, her confidence and her place and damn he was proud of you. Every day he would watch you work; watch you talk with the men and women of the community and play with the kids on your down time. He noticed the way you smiled when someone said something to you that you found funny and how quickly you were to react to whatever danger that tried to enter your home. Each passing day he sat there silently, admiring you, wishing he could talk to you again, missing your new fiery wit and sharp tongue.

He often found himself wondering if you would have had the same spitfire nature back at the Sanctuary, was it hiding inside you, waiting till the right time to be release. You radiated confidence in everything you did. Negan was somewhat sad that he wasn't the one who bought it out in the first place.

Negan was waiting for his dinner as usual, waiting for Gabe to bring it down but was surprised when you came down those stairs holding the tray instead. He noticed how you kept your head down and quickly passed it under the bars, the sound of it scraping on the concrete breaking the silence in the small room. "Are you going to ignore me for the rest of my life?" Negan asks, placing the tray on his cot. 'Gabe usually keeps me company while I eat." "Yeah, well I am not Gabe and if I had my way you wouldn't be getting anything from our pantry." You snap at him. "Especially nothing I risked my ass for"

"Shouldn't you be happy? If you had stayed with me, you would have been either captured, dead or abandoned again but here you are safe, and sound and I am the one being treated like a caged animal at the zoo." Negan says take a bite of his bread. You glare at him "I would be happier if you had never came here, if Rick didn't bring you back alive as far as I am concerned, you're still a threat to us." "I am unarmed, I have no men, no followers, nothing. I am not a threat." "You could kill a man with your bare hands, I fucking witnessed it once and that is a risk I really don't want to take, but since Rick is leader and he is content with you being kept like an animal then I have no say."

You get up to leave when you hear Negan say, "I'm sorry". You turn back to him, and he is standing at the bars, his arms hanging out casually, staring at you. "What did you say?"

"I said I am sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said back then. You were right, I was scared that I was going to lose it all and in the end I did. To me you were never overweight, you were perfect. You made me feel things that I haven't felt in a goddamn long time. Your smile, laugh, the way you look at me as if the world shone out my ass was why I could start my day, just knowing I could talk to you was enough for me."

"A little late for your "kind" words now don't Cha think? You could be saying this now so I will forgive you and let you go" you say pointing out the obvious. "I can tell you that I will not be the one setting you free" You growl as he gaze softens.

"I am 100% telling the truth. The day after you left, I went to your room to talk to you, when I entered and found it empty I went and searched the entire compound for you, I had Simon patrolling outside hoping you were just trying to prove something to us but when night fell, and you didn't come back I knew I fucked up and then you show up here that day and the feelings I felt seeing you, I can't describe."

"And yet you didn't learn, you did the same thing to Olivia. If you hadn't of said shit, maybe I would still be flying under the Negan radar." "You're right, I didn't learn and what I said to Olivia wasn't nice at all. I hurt you twice without even thinking."

You stand there looking at the once powerful Negan, "You are pathetic, a man like you never learns." You snarl as you get closer to the bars, "You are going to rot in here." You were so close to him; you could feel his breathe on your face. Negan was getting pissed off, he had tried to apologize, something that he never did, and you spat it back at him. He didn't want you to forgive right away but you didn't even give it time to sink it. You were so close, so angry, he couldn't help but get turned on, the scent of you drove him crazy.

He grabbed your arms, slamming you into the bars, you fought against him, but he covered your lips with his and you stopped fighting for a moment. Your lips were warm and soft just like he had imagined. His facial hair tickled your skin as you felt his tongue glide against you closed lips. You pulled away from his grip, using the back of your hand to wipe your lips of his kiss, you stood there staring in shock a minute before storming out of the cell and heading home. Negan watched you rush home, he could see your house from his cell, it was one of his past time favorites, watching you in your room, the silhouette of you always got his attention. When you thought no-one was watching you would sit on the windowsill and have a smoke, or just stare at the stars. Negan would watch you, wishing he could join you, to hear you laugh and smile at him as you spoke to each other.

His fingers touched his lips, remembering how soft they were, he had been wanting to kiss you since the day he found you.

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

The next day Negan didn't see you around the compound, you didn't leave for a supply run, so you had to be in your home. "If you are looking for Y/N she not feeling well today so Rick gave her the day off" Gabe said passing him his food under the cell door. "Is she ok?" Negan asks not in the mood to eat, looking at the tray on the floor. "You tell me, she has never once taken a day off sick and the one time she comes down here and she is "unwell"? Want to tell me what happened?" Gabe ask sitting down next to Negan's cell.

"Nothing happened, she gave me the food and that is it" Negan lies. "I am a priest Negan, think of this like a confessional, whatever you say stays between us." Negan looks at the priest then sits next to him. "I tried to apologize for my past behavior, but she wasn't having any of it. Words got heated and when she got close enough, I grabbed her and kissed her, I don't know why I did that I just had the urge to pull her in, kiss her crazy but then she left without saying anything" Negan confesses.

Gabe looks at the man next to him, he now understands why you stayed home today. "Listen, I know I should not be doing this, but I will. First just I suggest give her time, I'll try and send her down next week to deliver your food, I can't promise anything ok" Negan nods and watches the man leave. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 DAYS LATER

Daryl comes to grab you for a supply run with him. You place you knife and guns on your hip and calf and walk over to his bike, knowing full well who is watching you. "Good morning, Y/N, I heard you have been sick lately I hope you are ok now" Negan says giving you that cocky smile you knew him for. "I don't need your concern Negan." You tie the bandana around your head and lean on Daryl's bike. "I don't want to hear that you have been unwell. Especially since you were the last one to see me before you got sick. Who knows what you gave me with our kiss." You look around and make sure no-one heard him; you storm over to his window. "What the fuck are you doing?" You growl as you kneel down. "I am doing nothing Y/N. I don't want to get sick to." He tilts his head as he looks at you. "You know damn well I am fine." "Which brings me to my next question, why were you hiding and pretending to be sick, surely the kiss wasn't that bad.?" "I was embarrassed ok" That was a lie, but you had hoped he couldn't tell. "You are OUR prisoner; it makes me look bad if anyone finds out about it." "We are adults, we can do what we want, why would it look bad?" Negan pushes you.

"If anyone in this community finds out our past it wouldn't look too good for me or Rick. He is the one keeping my secret about where I come from" You say spying Daryl approaching and you get up to leave. "You want me" Negan watches you turn around to face him again "Don't deny it, that kiss was just the tip of the iceberg. You may have told yourself that you have no feelings, nothing, for me but that is a lie, you want me just as much as I want you." You listen to him carefully and shake your head. " You only want me now because I am unattainable and skinny. You wouldn't be saying that if it was fat me" You leave before he can shout out anything. "Hey Daryl" you say as he hops on his bike, you jump on behind him, hugging his waist tightly as he goes to start the bike, you smirk back at Negan, resting your head on Daryl's back. "Hold on" Daryl shouts as he starts the bike up and rides out the gates. Negan feels the pits of jealously rising inside him.

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#daddy negan #jdm #jeffery dean morgan #negan smith #negan x reader #negan smut #negan x y/n #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan fluff #negan angst #negan smith x reader #twd negan

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 4 months ago

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chapter nine: truth, dare, spin bottles

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER EIGHT: TWENTY STITCHES IN A HOSPITAL ROOM

warnings: language, self-deprecation, negative thought and talk, fatshaming (past experience, not Bucky), alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries inflicted in ch8

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: YAY this was an amazing chapter to write -- the last scene in this chapter was what I had in mind when I named this series! I love every single one of u who have reblogged, liked, commented. it means so much to me. also, the instance of fatshaming mentioned in this chapter is almost verbatim a very real experience that happened to me, so pls don't be horrible about it, its literal trauma I carry with me. anyways--enjoy! next chapter is the fluff filled, sexual tension at its peak, chapter that'll be the most coveted and awaited!

“Bucky!” You exclaim as quietly as you can, trying to not disturb Nat who’s just gotten some well earned sleep. The rest of the infirmary is empty, and you’re glad that means nobody is around to witness your incoming breakdown. The waterworks start again, flowing down your face in relief. He’s not dead, he’s not in a coma. He’s your Bucky and he’s safe and alive.

“Hey doll, come on now. No need to cry, is there?” It kills him to watch you sob, and he raises a hand to brush those tears away, but winces. Something is restricting him, and then he looks down and remembers. The blood, the bullets, the metallic taste still coating his mouth.

“Yes there is! You almost died on me.”

“How could I die when I have such a sweet woman trying her best to give me a praise kink?” He smiles then, and even though he looks tired as shit, you can tell he’s on the mend. The poison was potent but its effects were definitely reversible.

You laugh at that, taking his vibranium hand that’s closest to you and pressing a kiss to it. “Well I had to stop you dying somehow. If I can turn you on, maybe you could focus on your raging boner instead of wanting to sleep, right?” You laugh again, wiping your tears as his hand cups your face, stroking your cheek in pure adoration.

“Did—Did I really have a boner, doll?”

“I’m not sure, love. I was a bit more focused on the gallons of blood you were losing.” His gaze travels down your form, and you know he’s checking for any injuries as you stroke the inside of his wrist in reassurance.

“I’m alright Buck.” Then he sees your hand, and the taste in his mouth sours as he remembers it’s origins.

“Your hand…I did that. I did that to you.” He retracts his hand, pulling himself away from you and into his most familiar mindset, where he’s convinced he’s a monster and a murderer. You have to pull him out again, you need him next to you.

“Bucky.” You keep your voice firm. “Bucky, no. You didn’t do this to me. It was necessary, the situation called for it. And I’m completely okay. I got it looked at, and it’s not that bad.”

“How many stitches?”

“Buck—.”

“How many stitches?” You can see him shake, horrified at what he’s done. But he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Six.” His eyes water, and you try to wipe them away.

“No, don’t touch me. Doll, I hurt you, I’m a monster, please don’t touch me.” You know he’s not, you want to bring him back. Back to the Bucky you know, and love. Your heart aches at his words, knowing he’s depriving the both of you some much needed comfort.

“No, you’re not. Bucky, look at me. I love you. You’re my best friend. You were in pain, you needed to be stitched up, and based on the level of poisons in your system, you couldn’t have dealt with that level of pain, especially because of the antidote already kicking your ass. We didn’t have any towels or clean cloth for you, which is my fault, I should’ve checked it before we left. You’re not a monster, Buck. You never have been. You never will be, not to me. You’re not a monster.” His eyes soften and when you reach to dry his tears, he doesn’t stop you. All he needed was reassurance from you, and his resolve quickly crumbles.

You’re gentle, well aware of his vulnerability. You decide to change the topic, speaking in a much more hopeful voice.

“Once you’re better, me and Nat made plans for all of us to go out for drinks and celebrate, because we got what we needed. You did good, love. You just saved the entire nation from God knows what H— that organisation had up their sleeve. You’re a hero. Well, you always have been. But you’re a damn hero, Bucky, and I’m so damn proud of you.” He begins to sob and shake, and you hold his hand. “Would you like to go out with us?” He nods, and you smile.

“Come here, doll. You need to get some rest, you’ve been so busy tending to me, and crying.” He shuffles over with a smile, making room for you in his cot. And you can’t deny it, can’t deny the heavy exhaustion taking over your body at even the mention of sleep past his lips. “You’re my safe place, you know that? I couldn’t sleep a wink without knowing you were okay. I think this is why they don’t let us treat our loved ones back where I’m from. Because the sight of you broke me so bad I almost couldn’t do anything.” You curl into his side, eyes closing as one hand rests on his chest, the other tucked around your own middle. You head rests comfortably against where metal meets flesh, and you absentmindedly press a kiss to one of his scars there. His hand brushes across the bandages, and it feels like if you were to unwrap them, your hand would be good as new. This is what his golden touch does to you, and you’re sick of denying it. Maybe when you go out for drinks in a couple of days, you’ll make your move. Or at least, express your interest.

“You’re my safe place too. I hope you know that. And that there’s nobody else I would’ve let touch me anyway, especially if you weren’t there to oversee it.” His scent grounds you, and you missed being able to feel the vibrations of his chest when he speaks. You miss him like you’ve not seen him in years.

You let out a breath, and let yourself fall into sleep, murmuring “I do.”

He holds you tighter, and follows suit.

————————

You wonder if this is a bad idea. When Nat was dismissed and Wanda had come back from a weekend trip with Vision, you had organised to go out for drinks.

And you’ve decided that you’re going to try flirting tonight. With Bucky, and hope he’ll pick up what you’re putting down and either politely turn you away (likely) or finally make the move. And not a quick peck on the lips before he almost dies, a proper, sweeping off of your feet, romcom worthy kiss.

When you’d first arrived in New York, you’d decided to put your beaten, broken heart in a cage, and throw the key into the closest filthy river. And yet, Bucky has bended the metal bars with impressive strength and reached for it. He’s patched it up piece by painstaking piece, and made it good as new. You were content in your self-made captivity, the cage was once just fine, until it wasn’t. Until the winter sprung forth with freedom hues, and your heart was just out of one jail into another.

But at least the warden is a sweetheart, keeping your heart healthy and well-kept. Your bars are his ribs, and at least you can see the daylight from in here.

You’ve decided to up your going-out outfit to the next level. A black dress covered in deep red roses, just the shade Bucky likes, that shows off a good amount of your cleavage and emphasises the curves of your body in a way you don’t mind. You pair it with a leather jacket, and heavy, dark makeup. It’s a little experimental, but not out of your comfort zone. You used to wear eyeliner and dark lipstick all the time, on almost-dates and never-fun nights out.

You’d stopped going all together, preferring to stay indoors, in your house, where no man can passively show you just how much prettier he finds your friends, or how much they’d prefer if you just lost a little weight.

Safe to say, you haven’t experienced nights out in New York. And you can’t even get drunk at the moment, seeing as your hand is yet to heal. You’re just lucky it’s your non-dominant hand, so you were able to do this makeup look to yourself with a few tips and tricks from Nat. You smooth down the dress while adjusting the bangles on your wrist and the wolf emblem glinting against the very top of your breasts. You smile, dark red lips stretching back at you in the mirror.

You know once you step out of the house, and see almost any other woman who’s put a lot less effort into her appearance and somehow looks ten times better than you, you won’t feel pretty. Not even one bit. You’ll know, that even the way you look with the most effort is a million times uglier than anyone else at their worst.

But right now, you feel good. Pretty, even. You turn, watching Nat and Wanda watch you as they’ve already gotten ready and are waiting for you. Everyone in this room is aware of what your plans are.

“Alright, girls. Do I look good—I mean, do I look okay?” For a minute your past traumas flash before your eyes.

Adjusting a necklace, turning to someone you love and trust, asking if you look good. They reply with “It’s okay, but it would be better if you reduced your volume.” Cruelly mentioning your weight, and then the whole night spent with tears streaming down your face and having to blame it on allergies. You swallow, even the mere thought of that experience almost making a large lump appear in your throat. Why are you thinking of that? It must be the nerves.

“Okay? Girl, you look drop-dead gorgeous. Hell, if you weren’t so down bad for Bucky, I would’ve asked you out in a heartbeat. Absolute heart-stealer.” Nat grins, eyeing you up and down. You know she’s just being nice, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

“Yeah, and if me and Vision weren’t so madly in love I would ask you to run away with me. Fuck, what are you doing later?” All the three of you laugh.

You have a history with having things like this said to you as a joke, but it’s never been so well-intended. While your self-esteem is mildly intact, you thank the both of them.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys there. Bucky’s taking me on his motorcycle.” You grab your maroon purse and head out to the front. Bucky’s dressed in all black, leaning against his motorcycle. Dear God, he looks so sexy. He’s typing something on his phone looking all angry, eyebrows furrowed. The moonlight paints him in the most glorious shades, of black and brown and glimmering gold. Home. That’s what he looks like, to you. Home. No longer a place thats an ocean and half a country away. This man, this super soldier, in whose presence you’ve felt like you belonged more in these past few months, than a lifetime over there.

Your chest fills with pride, and you can’t stop yourself.

“You showing off that metal arm tonight?” You skip the last few steps, stopping in front of him. You’re lucky you didn’t trip, it’s the first time you’ve worn heels in ages. Another memento of a time, of a version of you long gone.

He looks up from his phone, and his jaw goes slack. His eyes follow your figure up and down, mouth still hanging open.

“Doll—I, um, you—.” You put you hand on his shoulder, drawing his cerulean eyes up and straight on your lips. He licks his own, and everything flies out the window. A hot pressure ties itself to your lower belly, and you feel your face flush.

You do have his attention after all.

You smile, looking up at him and grinning like a devil. He’s still at a loss for words, even as you squeeze his bicep.

“Bucky…Should we get going or are you planning to stare at my mouth all night?” Your head tilts to the side, and it seems to snap him out of whatever daydreams he’s been conducting in his mind, so vivid they bring a pink glow to his cheeks.

“I—Yeah. Yes, let’s…let’s go. Where are we going?” You laugh at his stupor, walking over to his motorcycle and running your hands along the worn leather seat. For a moment, you think about all of the other girls that must have sat behind him, gripping onto him and pretending to be scares, when in reality they just want to cop a feel.

You wonder if you’re half as pretty as any of them, to him, at least. “This is an amazing bike, Buck. Incredibly sexy.” When you look up, you notice him watching you. You flash him your signature sweet smile, and he finally approaches the bike, putting his hands dangerously close to yours.

“Not nearly half as sexy as you. You look—Well, you can probably guess by my lack of words, but—You look gorgeous, doll. Truly. I—.”

“Thank you.” His demeanour finally cracks, a small smile appearing on his face when he realises you’re not fighting him. He wordlessly hands you a helmet, and clips it on for you, warm hands lingering under your chin.

“Hold on tight, doll.” And then he zooms as fast as he can, with the wind blowing in your hair feeling incredible, even though you clutch onto his middle for dear life.

Your favourite part is when he stops at traffic lights to reach behind him and cheekily run his fingers along your knees and the very lower parts of your thighs, and somehow, you’ve never felt more wanted in your entire life.

Always a compliment or a cheeky joke on his tongue the entire way there— it makes your insides swirl, wondering if it truly can be that your feeling are the 10 to his 0.1.

God, you hope so.

“Hey, Buck, can we talk tonight? After we come back?” You say to him, just as he’s unfastening your helmet and storing it back in his bike, not without admiring you shaking out your hair, running your fingers through it to tame the horrible case of helmet hair you’re sure you’re having.

“Yeah, sure doll. You don’t need to ask.” His voice is so soft, and you almost melt into a fucking puddle at his feet.

Great. That’s when you’ll make your move. You two are the last to arrive, as usual, and you casually slip your arms around one of Bucky’s, gripping him tightly to you like he’s your man, fingers intertwining undeniably. For the purpose of the illusion, your poor heart goes along with it.

He visibly stiffens and so just before you walk into the dive bar, you stop him and lean in to whisper into his ear. You don’t mean for your voice to drop an octave with your volume, but it so happens. “Buck, darling. I can stop, if you want. All you have to do is say so, you know that, right?” You don’t miss the catch in his breath, the way his eyes flutter closed as he tries his best to retain his composure.

“Please.” He turns his face toward you, and you don’t anticipate having your faces so close. You can see the golden flecks in his eyes, as pure as his soul and heart. You wonder where it is, knowing yours fully resides behind the bars of his ribcage.

“Don’t stop,” he all but whispers and it takes a mountain’s worth of effort to conceal the moan slipping past your lips at his words. He’s done it on purpose, you’re sure.

The kiss has changed the fate of you and him, whether that be for worse or for better. You want him either way.

You glance at his lips, and you notice how some of your lipstick has ended up just to the side of his ear from your sexual whispers.

“Oh, sorry. My lipstick’s all—“

“Leave it. I want everyone in this bar to know who I’m with tonight.” His eyes find your lips again, no longer perfect from the smear decorating his face.

“You’re with me?”

“Always.” You want him. Desperately. To push him against the brick and mortar and kiss him like the world is ending tomorrow, and it makes your heart pick up. He notices, and you can feel the desire simmering in the air between the both of you.

“Dear God guys, you can eyefuck each other later, now get in here.” Natasha’s voice distracts the both of you, heads whipping in comical synchronisation to stare at her bug-eyed, feeling caught by her crudeness.

“We—I— We’re on our way.” You try and cover for the both of you, secretly dismayed by his dismissal of the notion. You try to not let your fears haunt the wonderful moment, even though they stand not too far off on the sidelines, waiting for the change of score so they can step into the limelight.

He didn’t let go of you the whole night. When everyone was a few drinks deep, he let his hand shift onto your thigh, staring at you like you might hate it. You’d grabbed his wrist and stroked the inside of it, knowing it’s his favourite way to be touched by you.

And then the gang uses an empty beer bottle, spinning it on the tables in a juvenile game of truth or dare. You laugh at it, secretly holding Bucky’s hand under the table. You never got to play this game in school, too busy with work or studying and then getting to that sore age where it just feels So High School(derogatory).

But tonight, you are happy, free. Trying to access a version of you you’ve long discarded.

“Nurse!” Tony calls out, surprisingly sober despite being on his seventh bottle, whose neck is currently facing towards you.

“Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“You like someone in this group, in this booth, don’t you?” You freeze. You can’t admit that, definitely not while holding that certain someone’s hand. “Well, it’s definitely not Steve.” Tony laughs, and you feel horrible for the poor blonde, now trying to hide his face in embarrassment. It seems alcohol opens old wounds when in Tony Stark’s system.

“Mr Stark.” Somehow, even fully sober you seem to have an air of confidence about you, mixing with your perfume. “That’s not very nice. How would you like it if someone made fun of when you used to hit on Ms Pepper and she rejected you? You know we’re all good friends here, there’s no need to be horrible to poor Steve, especially not just because he liked someone who doesn’t have the same feelings for him, but still cares deeply as a friend. It’s just not done, Mr Stark.”

You turn to Steve then, apology on the tip of your tongue. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Thank you for standing up for me.” He quickly touches your knee, careful to not let it linger seeing as he’s caught sight of your and Bucky’s intimate contact the second it began happening. “God, how’s she so respectful when telling me off?” Tony grumbles. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and you change the topic.

“I don’t want to complicate things right now, in front of anyone, so I won’t be answering. Dare.”

“Take three shots. I’ve heard you’re a drinker, and you haven’t touched a drop all night. Not fair, is it?” He leans back in his part of the booth, while you try your hardest to seem smaller, squashed between Steve and Bucky.

You wonder how to answer without trying to seem like you’re chiding Bucky, because you truly do not blame him for your state. Thor replies for you, his voice booming.

“Can’t you see, the fair maiden has an injured hand, Stark. She should not be consuming any alcohol. Not a single drop.” You flash him a smile, even as you feel Bucky pulling away, and you just know the guilt is pulling him away.

You quickly grab his hand tighter, keeping it on your thigh and making him meet your eye.

Don’t blame yourself. You silently signal.

I’ll try. He blinks back and you sigh, resting your chin on his shoulder for a split second in casual intimacy, and it makes him smile.

“Well yes. But also, Bucky’s not allowed to drink tonight either, so I thought I’d join him in solidarity.” It’s not a lie. One of the reasons you’ve been clinging to Bucky all night is to make sure he doesn’t drink alcohol. You know he’s a super soldier, you know you’d gotten him the antidote on time, and you’ve double checked his wounds at least twice in the past 24 hours just to know they’re nothing more than pink marks that’ll be gone by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

But you still worry. You still want to be safe, not wanting to take any risks. Nobody knows what level of poison will always remain in his bloodstream, what the knock on effects of machine produced antidotes are.

You can’t take the chance. You just can’t.

“That’s right. Me and my girl are going sober tonight. No shots for either of us.”

He’s spoken several sentences, but you fixate on four words. Me and my girl. Is it correct grammar? No. But does it absolutely send your mind into a fritz? Absolutely.

“Ugh, all these rules and regulations. Fine then, I dare you to go up there and do some karaoke.” Your eyes widen. How the fuck do you get yourself out of this. “Look, sweetheart. It’s either that or you flirt with the bartender who’s been eyeing you all night.” He tilts his head behind you, and sure enough you’re being watched.

The bartender is not ugly, by any means— tall, brown hair and light eyes. But he’s not Bucky. So what’s the point? That man can stare all he wants, but he’ll never be the one to have you. Not as long as Bucky is next to you, in sickness or in health.

“Go on, doll. You have an amazing singing voice.”

“How do you—?”

He leans in to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I hear everything you do in your room. When you think nobody’s awake to hear you, or nobody’s listening. I hear everything.”

And all of a sudden, you’re out of your seat and being pushed to the small karaoke corner and all of the people at your booth get up to stand and hear you.

You know what song you’re going to sing. This isn’t how you planned it, but you suppose you’ll make the most of the situation.

You stand behind the mic stand, and your eyes find Bucky.

They stay glued on him as you sing Guilty As Sin? By Taylor Swift, imagining all things you’ve never done with him. The way he touches you in your deepest desires, the way he kisses in your daily daydreams. It’s almost too much.

And then you see his face.

Lovestruck, lovelorn, lovesick.

All for you.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #x plus size reader #marvel

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suzukiblu · 1 year ago

Text

Day ten of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The waitress comes over with another steaming mug of hot chocolate for Kon and Tim awkwardly orders not-Robin's-coffee-order, which since he's panicking he defaults to Caroline Hill's usual for. She's a med student, she drinks enough caffeine for his tastes. And also she likes extremely sugary drinks, which is definitely to his taste.

Look, Robin can't drink an iced brown sugar oat milk espresso with six extra pumps of syrup and four extra shots of espresso, especially in front of the exact teammate who would tease him the most mercilessly for having a finicky drink order, but Caroline Hill can drink anything she wants, and Tim Drake is just gonna be channeling her for this conversation, he guesses. Her Twitter account already got him here to begin with, so he might as well.

“That is a concerning amount of caffeine in one drink, dude,” Kon observes with a raised eyebrow instead of teasing him over either the syrup or oat milk, which is not actually what Tim expected to hear. But, well, he's not Robin right now, so maybe Kon isn't feeling the same urge to start shit that he usually seems to.

Tim's not sure how to feel about that. But Robin is, technically, an “authority” figure and a fellow superhero, and Tim Drake is just some guy, so . . .

Actually, Tim doesn't really know how Kon gets along with civilian guys. He's seen him flirt up plenty of civilian girls, obviously, but he doesn't really seem to talk to all that many guys. Like . . . ever, actually.

Weird, he thinks, repressing a frown.

“How would you know, you're Kryptonian,” he says.

“Half-Kryptonian,” Kon says, then waves a hand around the café. “And like, you know, also this entire planet is full of people who can just tell me these things. Five thousand milligrams is the minimum lethal dose of caffeine for a healthy adult, which is something like seventy-five shots of espresso, but more than four or five shots in a day is still not gonna be great for you, and you just ordered six.”

“. . . how the hell do you just know that off the top of your head?” Tim asks, blinking at him in absolute bewilderment, and Kon smirks in smug amusement.

“Dude, I was programmed by exhausted grad students pulling six months straight of all-nighters,” he says, pointing at his own temple. “I know every possible thing there is to know about every possible caffeine delivery system. Including the illegal ones and the ones the government hasn't yet realized should be illegal.”

“Huh,” Tim says, still more than a little bewildered. That does make sense, he guesses, but since Kon's already told the team he has absolutely no useful background in any kind of science or math past the absolute kiddie-level basics when they were all exchanging information about all their personal training and experience, it's still a surprise to hear. Shouldn't Cadmus have prioritized an actual education over things like safe caffeine intake for baseline humans, especially since Kon's safe intake level is probably different from a baseline human's anyway? Which–well, he guesses Kon did get cracked out of his cloning tube early, but still. They at least should've been building up the basics for him. Like–more than the kiddie-level basics, he means.

Cadmus is definitely not capable enough to be in charge of Kon. Like, at all. Ever. Tim has fewer and fewer regrets about this whole plan every minute, in fact. If anything, he should've started drafting it the day he met Rex Leech, never mind the fact that Kon hadn't technically existed yet at the time. Or after the Poison Ivy incident, maybe. At the least he should've done up an outline or two after he and Kon and Bart had helped Suzie escape recapture and then collectively lied to the government about it.

“You work for those guys, right?” he “asks” as Kon takes a sip of his new hot chocolate, because while the best time to start this whole plan was months ago, the second-best time to start it is now. “Project Cadmus?”

"Yeah," Kon replies, looking a little surprised by the question. Tim reminds himself to con the team into brushing up on the superhero version of stranger danger, because Kon answered that question way too easily. "Well, just started to. I'm a field agent. How'd you know?”

"I've done some research on you since we first met," Tim says, which isn't even a lie; just some careful phrasing. "I really appreciated what you did for me. And to be honest, I think we'd get along."

"Oh yeah? Tell me all about it," Kon says as his posture shifts a little and he flashes him the kind of smirk he normally reserves for, well . . .

Huh, Tim thinks in vague bemusement.

Kon's flirting with him.

. . . huh.

Not actually the angle Tim was intending to take here, but . . . well, he's not above taking it. And anyway, Kon's just a flirt in general, so it's not like it means anything.

Admittedly Tim hasn't actually seen him flirt with a guy before, but presumably Kon's just feeling out an opportunity to experiment or not ready to be out to the team yet. Tim's not, so he'd hardly blame him for that. Tim's not even out to Steph.

And he's definitely, definitely not out to Bruce.

Well, ideally he'll be a supervillain before that becomes necessary, assuming his life goes to plan.

Robin was always going to be a temporary gig, after all.

"I don't know," he says, and lets the corners of his mouth curl up in amusement. "You just seem like my type of guy."

"Your type of guy?" Kon says, his smirk widening as he leans in towards Tim, who decides to pretend that particular bit of flirtatious implication was actually intentional. Tim is . . . not all that great at flirting, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has particularly high standards past “didn't explicitly tell me to fuck off”, so Tim figures he'll be able to get by for long enough to have this conversation.

Not much longer, but all the same. He has a plan to pitch, that's all that actually matters here.

“Yeah,” he says. “And I wanted to thank you for saving me, so . . .”

“You wanna thank me, Tim Drake?” Kon asks with a slower, wider smirk, leaning in a little more again, and Tim instantly turns bright red as he realizes how that actually sounded.

Yeah, okay, he is actually the worst at flirting. Fuck.

“Uh, yes!” he says quickly, very much needing to clarify that statement before his stupid fucking hormones try to talk him into maybe just . . . leaning into that particular miscommunication a little. Not the goal here. Definitely not. “I mean–being a field agent doesn't sound particularly lucrative? And I know being a superhero isn't.”

“Lucrative?” Kon blinks, expression turning puzzled. “I mean, I guess not. I don't need that much money or anything, though, I just live at Cadmus these days.”

“You live in a lab?” Tim says, letting himself sound as incredulously horrified as he felt the first time he heard that. “Why?”

“I dunno, saves me a commute,” Kon replies with a shrug. “Also, like, it's not like I have a credit score to get my own place with. Or a legal identity. Or, you know, money. Landlords tend to want those.”

“Hm,” Tim says. “Do you want one?”

“Huh?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion.

“Your own place,” Tim clarifies. “I really would like to thank you. I could help you get a place.”

“Uh, thanks? But I still couldn't afford rent, even if somebody cosigned for me or whatever,” Kon says, looking puzzled. “I really don't make that much.”

“No, I mean I'd pay your rent,” Tim explains, which is in fact an insane person thing to offer somebody, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has all that reliable a grasp of normal social mores. “Or just buy you a place outright and pay your property taxes. Whichever you'd prefer.”

Kon blinks. Tilts his head.

“So like, you're just a very extra dude, huh,” he says after a moment, his eyebrows slowly raising as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “Like you're the guy who blows the budget on the friend group's Secret Santa out of the water every year.”

“Possibly,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish smile. Kon laughs and folds his arms on the table, looking amused.

“You wanna buy me an apartment?” he asks. “What, just for saving your life?”

“I really think you're undervaluing that particular achievement,” Tim says.

“I think you're overvaluing it,” Kon replies with another laugh. “No offense, but I didn't do anything but block one lousy bullet.”

“One lousy bullet is enough,” Tim says, and doesn't think of any bodies he's seen. Kon tilts his head again, then takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Okay, fair,” he allows. “But I'm bulletproof.”

“I'm not,” Tim says.

“You were as long as I was touching the same floor as you,” Kon replies with a shrug, and takes another sip. “It wasn't like I did anything hard.”

He hasn't actually said “no” to the apartment. Tim's pretty sure that's just because he thinks he's either ridiculous or just not being serious, but he's not above pressing the advantage anyway.

“You didn't have to do anything at all, though,” he says. "And buying you a place wouldn't be all that hard for me either. Besides, you deserve a little gratitude for your efforts, don't you think?”

"Sounds like supervillain talk, dude," Kon says, his mouth quirking in amusement around his next sip. Tim resolves to dial back on that at this point in his career. He's laying groundwork, yes, but subtlety is still the wiser course of action.

"You say that like you've never socialized with a supervillain before," he counters dryly.

"Well, usually ones who wear a bit less," Kon replies, lowering his mug to grin wickedly at him. Tim figures if a little more flirting might soften him up on this whole idea, well . . .

It's not the most altruistic thing he's ever done for a plan, admittedly, but if it works, it works.

"So you're telling me I should invest in a crop top before I try to take over the world and remake it in my own image?" he asks still more dryly as he raises an eyebrow at Kon with a little smirk, and Kon laughs and leans in a little closer again, giving him a not very subtle up-and-down with his eyes.

"Only if you're trying to recruit me for your evil plans, pretty boy," he says, grin turning sharp. Tim feels vaguely faint, and also wants to lick the bastard's stupid perfect teeth. Jesus. "So I dunno, what are your feelings on Daisy Dukes?"

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not actually that much of an exhibitionist so at this point we're just describing my ideal costume updates for you," Tim informs him.

"Oh yeah?" Kon asks with another laugh even as he straightens back up to visibly preen at the suggestion. Tim is all for that, personally. Both the preening and the theoretical updates, in fact. And, a little more weirdly, just the idea of having anything whatsoever to do with what Kon might ever decide to wear. Especially whatever he might decide to wear for his costume.

Yeah, that's probably a later thought, Tim decides. Like, a private-time kind of later thought. Specifically “behind locked doors in an empty house” private-time, actually.

"You're solar-powered, aren't you?" he says reasonably, because apparently he likes to suffer and also make himself low-key insane. "Showing a bit more skin can't hurt."

"I wonder if Superman would buy that excuse," Kon says musingly.

"Power Girl exists," Tim replies still more reasonably. "And Supergirl wears a miniskirt, last I checked."

"Valid," Kon says, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression and tapping the side of his jaw. "Maybe I'll put in some cutouts and go for a lower neckline, tell the big guy he's making the rest of us look like prudes. What do you think, bikini or high-cut bottoms?"

"I don't know the difference," Tim lies, desperately trying not to overheat and die at that question and every single accompanying mental image that his useless brain has so helpfully decided to supply. "You'll have to provide examples."

"Will I now," Kon says, grinning all over again and pointedly striking a very suggestive pose in his seat. Tim valiantly struggles not to melt. "What, pretty boy, you want a fashion show?"

"Well I did want to be a photographer when I was a kid," Tim says, although it was definitely never that kind of photography he had in mind. Kon laughs again and shifts in closer again, though, so it's worth it. Tim is mortified, but also undeniably into just . . . all of this, really, just everything about this conversation. Robin can't flirt with Superboy, but, well . . . Tim Drake still isn't Robin, now is he?

He's probably taking advantage of the situation a little, Tim can admit to himself, but it's still just . . . nice. He's wanted to flirt with Kon for way too long, at this point. Indulging in a little bit of it isn't the worst thing he could do.

And again, it's Kon, so it's not like it's serious or anything. The guy won't even remember this conversation tomorrow, much less anything about Tim Drake.

. . . admittedly that'd be counterproductive to Tim's long-term goals here, but still. He's willing to take his time on this. There's a plan. It has steps. Layers. Processes.

"I like you, man," Kon says with a wider grin, which is in absolutely no way whatsoever in the plan. "You're funny."

Tim stares blankly at him as it occurs to him, almost disbelievingly, that he might've . . . made a good impression on Kon? Somehow?

Well, that's weird.

"I'll never get a fashion show out of you if I'm not at least funny," he says on autopilot, as someone who's been well-taught both when and how to press an advantage. Kon, yet again, grins at him, and gives him another much brighter laugh than usual.

Actually, he kind of hasn't stopped grinning at him, has he.

Huh.

. . . huh.

Tim really did not plan for this. This is just . . . not at all what the plan was.

“Well, you definitely are funny,” Kon says, biting his lip around a warm little smile and ducking his head just enough to look at Tim from under his lashes, and Tim decides he can probably just amend the plan.

He's a Bat, isn't he? They know how to improvise when they have to.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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lillylvjy · 2 years ago

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Baby I’m a fool (for you)

A/n/// hi hi. Just a small blurb I thought of today and really liked. So nothing special, probably doesn’t make sense and I’m sorry about that but…. Making out with high school Wilbur! Also when I say council I mean like a student council if anyone knows what that is!

Warnings// both reader and Wilbur are 17-18 in this so nothing bad, making out, hickeys, sexual innuendo???, swearing, Wilbur being Wilbur, and if I missed anything please tell me:)

Not edited and enjoy!

“We have a problem!”

“And it’s another Tuesday. Your point is?” Wilbur says as he looked up from the book he held in his hands.

You grab the book as you walked over to the desk he was sitting in. You both were currently hiding in a random classroom, well, the art room. You were working on something when Wilbur came in and starting distracting you.

“Shut it. Becca saw us kissing.” You whispered as you slammed the book shut and pulled him up.

“Woah- And why is that a problem?!” He questioned as you pushed him to the storage closet.

“Did you just magically forget we are supposed to hate each other?!” You raised your voice as you continued to push him deeper in the closet.

“No. But shouldn’t people know you don’t hate me after that night approximately two months ago in the back of my-“

“Do you know what being quiet is?! Now please shut up and go in the closet before I grab you by your neck and start making out with you, ok?” You whispered at him as you heard footsteps coming towards the room.

“But what if I want that dar-“ you cut him off as the door quickly opened, but to your relived it wasn’t Becca.

“James? What the hell are you doing here?!” You ask as you quickly pull him inside and make sure the coast is clear before bringing Wilbur back out.

“Honestly darling, this would be a perfect spot to hide in when we skip cla-“ Wilbur’s voice quickly disappeared as he saw a smirking James and an annoyed look on your face.

“Do you ever shut up?!”

“So that’s what you guys do when you’re not in English.” James said while smirking at Wilbur. “Anyways, I came to tell you that Becca is telling everyone that you guys are together and is actually looking for you so you both should probably hide!” James rushed out as you all heard a couple pairs of footsteps coming down the hall.

“Shit shit! Closet. Wilbur closet!” You both quickly scurry to the small space and shut the door as James quickly leaves.

“Jesus it’s so crowded in here!” You quietly complained as your back was pressed against the wall.

Wilbur stepped closer to you as he placed his index finger under your chin and lifted your head up to look at him. “Like I said. Perfect.” He smirked down at you as he leant down so your lips were inches away from each other. “What do you want darling?” Wilbur asked as you bit your lip and smirked up at him.

“For you to shut up and kiss me.” You whispered back to him as you inched your lips closer together, feeling his breathe on your lips as he chuckled.

“Is that what you want? Show me.” He whispered out as he placed his hands on your hips.

You quickly compiled as you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed his head down to meet you in a heated kiss. The kiss was rushed and needful. But so full of longing and love. Sloppy and rough. Desperate touches just to be close to each other.

Wilbur ran his hands down your sides until he met the back of your thighs and lifted you up. As he did so, your head hit the ceiling and made an obvious bang. But you both didn’t care.

“Oh shit! Are you ok?” Wilbur tried not to laugh as you giggled and cupped his face.

“Never been better.” You smiled at him as he smiled back and leant back in to continue the kiss.

As the kiss got deeper and needier, Wilbur quickly moved his mouth from yours, to your jaw, and down the the column of your neck, kissing and sucking as he continued down to your collarbone.

“Fuck Wil. I swear to god if you make them obvious I will explode.”

“Too late darling.” Wilbur whispered back as he bit down and sucked on the space where your neck and collarbone meet.

You both were to consumed by each other to realize that the voices got closer and soon enough the door opened as a gasp was heard.

You and Wilbur both looked towards the open door to see Becca with a smirk on her face as well as James behind her. Both for different reasons.

“What do you think the council will say when they hear about this?” Becca said as she started to text the group chat we had.

You patted Wilbur’s chest to let you down, and he did but not without kissing you one time, which he made sure was long and noticeable for Becca to see. All she did was scoff.

As your feet planted on the ground, you quickly smiled at Becca. “Nothing. Yeah, me and Wilbur supposedly “hate” other but I’m pretty sure everyone already knows about us already. I mean, have you seen my neck at all these last couple of weeks?!” You pointed at your now purple neck as Wilbur placed his arm around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder from behind.

“And plus what will they do? Kick us out?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow at her as she huffed in annoyance and frustration as she looked at the couple in front of her.

“You guys will pay for this. You guys made me lose my one chance at becoming head in the council because of your little bickering. I will get what deserved. Just watch.” She said as she stormed out.

“Ok. We will!” You yelled out as the door closed. “Fucking bitch. Think she deserved everything. She’s just pissed that you actually like me.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t pick her in a million years, no offense.” Wilbur said as he buried his face into your neck.

“I’m glad about that. Means I get to keep you for longer.” You kiss his forehead as he kissed your neck once more before standing up and looking at you.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Wilbur smiled at you as you stared at each other with big goofy smiles.

The moment was quickly ruined by a throat being cleared as you both turned to James.

“Yeah. I’m here too. Also what about your neck?” James pointed at the very dark and obvious bruises on your neck.

“Fuck. Seriously Wil!” You yelled at him as he just smirked and shrugged.

“You look hot with them.”

“You’re taking me home.”

“Food first?”

“Obviously!”

“Then more making out?” Wilbur pushed as you both walked out of the art room as you said bye to James.

“Don’t push your luck pretty boy.”

“So is that a yes?”

“……. Maybe.”

taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @art3m1s-adelia @gaytoadwithapopsicle @mcr-pr-fob @bird-shack @aimi-chann @sixofshadowandbone @swevenne @romancingdaffodils @ezzylikesdabee @z0vamp @maarriiii (if you want to be added, please feel free to send ask me <3)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilburfromlvjy #wilbur x reader #wilbur dream smp #wilbur mcyt #dsmp wilbur #x reader

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jendollzz · 1 year ago

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11:36pm

- njm

fluff, kissing, very cute, jealous jaemin

You’ve been dating jaemin since last may, its only been a year and 4 months. You never knew how much a life can change in one year and 4 months, you felt like you knew jaemin your whole life but at the same time it feels like 2 months ago you just met him. Due to both of your crazy, clashing schedules you’ve only seen jaemin a handful of times after his tour. Today though, jaemin invited you to sleepover to stay over for the weekend (as you often do when the both of you are mostly free during the weekends). You left work and came straight to his apartment, punching in his code in to his apartment you head to the kitchen putting down your bags on his countertop. His three kittens come running to you “hiii my cuties” you kneel down and pet them all. “wheres you dad hm?” Talking to lucy in your arms while heading to his room. Usually jaemin would be the first one you’d face when you come over but now he isn’t. “jaem?” you call out softly in case he’s asleep. Entering his room. You hear mumbling coming from the bathroom,

what the hell is going on??.

You head to the open bathroom door and you’re met with your boyfriend with a really thick white face mask on. “Oh my god! You scared the living shit outta me” placing your hand over your chest to calm yourself. The cat jumping out of your arms due to your (almost) heart attack. “i cant really talk baby im sorry” he barely lets out the words from the tight mask. By the time you take a quick shower, change into your his pjs, jaemin is already in bed almost half asleep. Its already a bit past midnight, the clock reading 12:12. You turn off your side lamp and land on his bare chest. “all the skincare you put on right now is on my chest” you both chuckle, he stares at your tired figure, his fingers lazily brushing against your hair. “what time do you have to leave tomorrow” you ask, moving your head to get a better look at him. “afternoon..” he says, as if he’s making sure not to break the calm ambiance surrounding you two. You give a small hum in return and mumble a something he can’t catch. “hm?” he tries to make out something but he can’t. “i love you” you confess. Jaemin continues to stare at you, its not like this is the first time you’ve said it nor has he. But he knows theres something under that ‘i love you’ just by your tone. “i love you too baby, you want something?” You move slightly to look at him but not saying anything, he encourages your hesitant figure by giving you a slight nod. “what if we moved in?” your heart beating so fast you can hear it as if you have noise-cancelling headphones playing some edm just by throwing that question at him. You’ve talked about moving in with each other multiple times, plus you’ve been dropping hints here and there ever since you’ve decided to move.

“we?” he asks

“I meant like me, since you know i want to move out anyway it’d be a nice chance and you dont need to change anything for me. I love your house, and its-“ your rambling is cut off by his laugh “why are you laughing” you start to let out small laughs along with him. He shakes his head and pulls you closer, kissing you. You pull back after a bit not wanting him to brush off the question. “So…?” Your eyes glistening, waiting for his answer. The longer you wait the more your hope drops. “Why would i ever say no to you?” He brings his hand to tuck away your hair falling on your face. “So… yes?” He nods. You loved that about jaemin, treating you with everything you deserve. You have the princess treatment, literally. You want this necklace?, he buys. You’re craving pancakes?, he makes. You need a new gym trainer?, he’s there. All you want, you get. You move closer to peck his face and lastly his lips. “You taste like chemicals” jaemin says in slight disgust at the unpleasant taste in his mouth. You let out a loud laugh at his face “so now i can never kiss my boyfriend?” You try to sound offended. “Of course you can, just not when he has 7 layers of skincare products on” he moves his hands slowly so you don’t notice and start attacking your stomach. You can barely cover yourself, jaemins hand holding together both of your wrists. “No- jaemin! Stop stop please please” he finally stops falling on his side, facing you once again. “What was that for??!”

“For not calling me yesterday” he says calmly

“I said sorry??” You defend

“Sorry isn’t going to call me”

“You’re sulking? Jaem i called you and you didn’t pick up i figured you went to sleep early”

“Well i didn’t”

“Fine.”

You both have your back turned away from each other. This was normal for you two, having a petty fight but make up 5 minutes later.

“Come closer its cold..” you mumble, all the energy completely drained from you.

He lets out sigh before turning around and meeting your face. “You’re taking out their litter tomorrow” he says moments before you sleep. “Oh my god..” you give in at the end.

#jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fic #jaemin drabbles #nct dream fic #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct fic #nct fanfic #jaemin fanfic #nct scenarios

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alchemistc · 3 months ago

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goon | bucktommy | chapter five

check out the hockey glossary here (updated through chapter five)

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

read Chapter Five on ao3

Eddie pulls into the parking lot still grinning at the recollection of the first time he’d met Evan Buckley, and Tommy can’t help but smile back, all the air in his lungs spent on the breathless laughter he’d expelled on the drive over.

“He actually thought I was there to replace him, or something,” Eddie says, fondly, amusement and affection seeping into his voice, and something clicks, just then. Tommy doesn’t have time to think about it, though, because half a second later Ravi is banging on the passenger window, looking harried.

Tommy rolls it down with one eyebrow raised.

“Closed practice,” Ravi says, with a kind of warning tilt to his expression, and Eddie’s smile evaporates in the drivers seat.

“Shit,” Eddie says, and Ravi nods emphatically.

Tommy’s been here going on three months, and this is the first time he’s even heard a whisper about closed practice. Sure, there are days where fans don’t fill the stands, and days when the media doesn’t seem inclined to make an appearance because there isn’t any story worth telling, but as far as he knows, Bobby Nash hasn’t held a closed practice in at least a few years. Back when he was brand new and fighting an uphill battle for a point or two a week, yeah, he’d definitely heard a few of those stories from guys like McKinley and even a few of the guys who’d been traded, in the following few years, to teams Tommy played for.

But Tommy can’t think of a reason why Nash would want to do that now.

Gerrard had held them for the opportunity to pick on whoever he felt like singling out on a given day, but that’s not Nash’s style.

“He called up four guys from Loveland,” Ravi continues, and next to Tommy, Eddie grimaces.

“Scrimmage?”

Ravi nods forebodingly.

“Shit,” Eddie repeats, and Tommy takes a deep breath, not quite sure if this is actually something to be worried about, or more melodramatics from a bunch of guys who’ve never had to play for the likes of Tortorella or Gerrard. “Does Buck know?”

“Buck’s the one who told me,” Ravi says, and Eddie whistles through his teeth.

“Is he already picking on the Eagles guys?”

“He’s got The List out,” Ravi informs them gravely, and Eddie actually leans forward and knocks his head against the steering wheel, startling Ravi when his forehead hits dead center on the horn.

“What’s the list?” Tommy queries, using the back of his hand to shove Ravi gently out of his way, opening the door before he rolls up the window to allow them to continue this conversation. He’s almost positive this is a late hazing, at this point, but never let it be said that Tommy won’t take any opportunity to let Buck’s team talk about him.

(Fucked, with a capital F.)

“You don’t wanna know about The List,” Ravi tells him ominously, dancing out of the way of the bag Tommy swings out from the back seat before shutting his door behind him.

“Tell me anyway.”

Ravi falls into stride beside him, detailing a nightmarish demon of a man who hazes the new kids and the old hats alike with pop quizzes on regulations and unspoken rules, right before drilling any random passersby with questions about the system they play until he was satisfied they fully understood The Process.

Tommy hasn’t seen a trace of this monstrous demon, but he’s actually kind of looking forward to finding out if this is a real thing Evan Buckley does. It sounds objectively hilarious, and also a little adorable.

It’s been two weeks and Tommy’s gotten a couple texts, a single call, and some heavy looks across a table at team dinner, or the locker room after practie, with no idea what, exactly, he’d said or done to draw Buckley’s ire. He actually thought I was there to replace him, Eddie had said, not five minutes ago, and Tommy takes the rest of the walk (Eddie and Ravi on either side of him looking like they’ve just gotten their marching orders) to reassess the last month or so.

Things had been great, after the All-Star game.

The new guys were still learning the system, which has an admittedly sharp learning curve, and they’d lost a few games, in amongst the grind, but Tommy was skating better, and Buck was pulling off some pretty spectacular shit every night, breaking ankles and running up enough points to throw him into the Norris conversation. McKinley had suggested some line mix-ups that had actually helped the new guys both pick up the pace and start to work within the system as it was designed to work.

Eddie had been making a point to pull Tommy in, inviting him out to places with the team, and sharing his sparse father-son time with Tommy, spending a few extra minutes out on the ice with him on practice days to try to give him some tips on his movement, his edgework, his stick handling skills.

For two and a half weeks Tommy had spent his nights stretching out sore muscles, icing aches and pains, and watching game film on mute, listening to Evan Buckley talk to him on speaker about the perils of simple carbohydrates while he shoveled two-day old shrimp fried rice into his mouth.

And then he’d been left on read for three minutes and barely spoken to him since.

In hindsight, it makes plenty of sense. Hell, he’d joked a million times to himself that Buckley and Diaz lived out of each others pockets; of course, of course Buckley would be upset by the perception that Eddie Diaz could in any way attempt to replace Evan Buckley.

Tommy will talk to him after practice. Maybe take him up on the beer he’d promised to buy Tommy in exchange for a few lessons on keeping his blades planted during a bout. (Nash and Hen don’t need to know he’s giving their star defenseman fighting tips.)

It’s as good a saying shutout with twenty minutes still left in a game.

Tommy isn’t actually paying attention, when it happens. He’s mostly trying to remember what he knows about their penalty kill, how it functions, which point of the diamond he’s supposed to maintain a five foot radius around while the power play unit hammers them with shots towards the net.

He is very firmly not thinking about how flustered he’d felt, walking into the lockers to find a half-dressed Evan Buckley wielding an actual clipboard, going through equipment checks with four Eagles players like Buck hadn’t previously played a game or two with all but one of them. Like the Eagles don’t closely follow the same system the Avs play. Like they’re not fucking professionals, themselves. Nothing about it should have done a single fucking thing for Tommy, and yet, while Buck made his way down the checklist and Wagner and Ivan elbowed each other in amusement as the fresh-faced kid who’d yet to be called up until today seemed to waffle between consternation and the need to prove himself.

Tommy doesn’t have a praise kink. Or a degradation kink, come to think of it.

But he’d suddenly realized he absolutely had a thing for Evan Buckley leaning into the obsessive perfectionism. (He’d had the irrational desire to see what his Google calendar looks like, and had to stuff that away immediately while Wagner waved at him from across the room and received an icy glare from Buck for daring to interrupt.)

He doesn’t see it, is the point he’s trying to make. From the left of his goalie, Tommy takes a puck to the bucket and watches Buckley circle back up to the top of the zone while he blinks away the dull gong-like ringing in his ears, watches Ivan shovel the puck back to Buck and Buck slide left, right, barely keeping it in the zone when he spins away from a poke check, and then Wagner skates right through Tommy’s line of vision, and by the time Tommy repositions himself, Buck is chasing after Eddie, who has the puck and a clean sheet of ice straight to Chim.

Tommy keeps up with Wagner down the ice, Buck chasing ahead of them, and with just the team and coaches in here, Tommy can hear a lot more than he usually can, even in a practice setting— the sound of the guys on the bench chattering away, taking notes on how a PK is actually supposed to function; the slice of eleven sets of blades gliding over the ice; the chirping from Eddie as he taunts Buck, five feet behind him, and Buck’s loud, loud guttural shout a moment before he catches a burst of speed and extends his knee just as Eddie winds back to shoot the puck.

Eddie goes down with a groan of pain, and they all slow, the momentum of the chase propelling them most of the way as Eddie curses, a loud mix of English and Spanish while Buck drops his stick to his knees and sucks in a few steady breaths.

Hen is out on the ice about fifteen seconds later, and things devolve from there.

Eddie flops into the seat next to Tommy, ten minutes into their flight, and Tommy raises a curious brow, eyes darting up from his book when Eddie just sighs. Six rows up, Buckley is making friends with the d-man they’d called up from Loveland, just in case Eddie’s knee acted up and he had to be scratched from the lineup.

It’s the first time in three months that Tommy has seen them sit in separate rows on a flight.

Eddie shrugs half-heartedly when Tommy tilts his head in question.

There’s enough chatter going on that Tommy doesn’t feel the need to pull out his phone and have this conversation through his fucking notes app, but he keeps his voice low, regardless.

“How’s your knee?” he starts, because despite how close they’ve become, he’s under no illusion that he can just dive straight into the “we made your best friend mad, how do we fix it” conversation without some small-talk to ease them into it.

Or maybe they can. “Recovering from Buck’s possessive streak pretty well, actually,” Eddie says with a breathy snort. “Wish his ego would get on the same page as my knee.”

Tommy bites down on the urge to defend him, of all things, but a moment later Eddie sighs.

“That wasn’t fair. Buck is — he gets a little weird, sometimes, about the people that are important to him.” He pauses, fingers tapping against his thigh as he shoots a careful look at Tommy. “I feel kinda bad. All he ever wants is to feel like he’s being included.”

“You’re allowed to have more than one friend,” Tommy intones, and then feels for a moment like walking it back at the lofty tilt of Eddie’s head, his pursed lips, his deadpan expression.

“Buck has about five million attachment issues and three people he trusts implicitly, and one of them has been inadvertently icing him out since he left for the All Star game. He’s second guessing six years of friendship because he didn’t realize dating wasn’t the only thing that could take my attention away from him for more than five minutes at a time.”

Tommy thinks that’s probably an oversimplification, but he gets the gist. “Have you talked to him?”

“Not successfully,” Eddie intones, with a nod towards the back of Buck’s head.

“I’ll talk to him.” Eddie gives him a grateful tap, two knuckles to Tommy’s knee, and shifts back into his seat, stretching his leg out into the aisle. “Maybe wait until after the game. Dallas is only six points behind us and I’d much rather he take a run at Duchene than you, if he doesn’t like what you have to say.”

The chuckle that escapes containment is a little self-deprecating, but Tommy tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and pretends to get some shuteye while he ponders what the hell he’s actually going to say to Buck. After the game.

Letting Buck stay mad is either gonna make or break this game. Tommy hasn’t decided yet, but it’s a running concern, as they go up one, then Dallas ties, then Dallas captures the lead in the closing minutes of the first. Buck is agitated down the tunnel, agitated through intermission, agitated as he lines up for the opening puck drop of the second period, agitated as Dallas mucks things up in the neutral zone, agitated as the refs miss an interference call that he’s been penalized for at least three times in the calendar year, so far.

He’s agitated as he gets smashed into the boards behind Dallas’ net, and agitated as Diaz misses his pass and the puck trickles out of Dallas’ zone, and agitated when Dallas takes advantage and nearly goes up another goal, the puck clanging off the iron before Chimney can scramble from one side of his crease to the other.

Dallas plays a shitty, boring game of keep away, jamming up every play they try to make in the neutral zone, and with two minutes left in the second, Buck takes another nasty hit against the glass, sandwiched between Benn and Hintz with the puck no where close to him. The no call is probably his last straw, when he comes away bleeding with Hintz’s stick still stuck in the padding of his helmet.

Back on the bench, Buck washes out his mouth with water, grimaces as Hen dabs at the cut just to the side of his eyebrow, an uncanny match to the birthmark on the other side of his face, and proceeds to argue with Nash for thirty seconds as the clock ticks down and Nash keeps him on the bench.

Nash has a rule, in these scenarios. They play for the next five minutes, every time, no game too far out of reach because they’re just setting up for the next five, but the important piece is handing off the last five. Whatever happened, whatever will happen, once the previous five are up, they’re done. There’s no changing them, only learning from them.

And Buck is clearly not ready to hand it the fuck off.

With twenty-seven seconds left and the puck once again stuck in the middle of the ice, Buckley and Diaz replace Manson and Girard, and Buck takes about half a second to assess the run Duchene is making towards their zone before he seems to make a decision.

It’s a legal hit, technically speaking. He catches Duchene with his head down, but Buck has both speed and a build up of negative emotion just leaking from his pores, at this point, so when they meet in the middle and Buck locks his elbow, the crash ends up looking more like an explosion of momentum, from Buck’s extended mitt, through Duchene’s chest. Buck stays standing and Duchene goes ass over tea-kettle, legs going out from under him and the puck trickling off his stick right into the space behind Buckley, where Diaz skates over to scoop it up and send it careening through a free patch of ice towards McKinley.

Duchene doesn’t snap back to his skates, right away, and Tommy can’t hear it over the noise of the crowd, but in the moment before Buck follows the puck on it’s way towards Oettinger, he bends to say something that has Duchene seeing fucking red.

Christ.

Tommy supposes he can add another player to the list of people who are gonna throw a fucking target on the number 18.

McKinley ties it up with seven seconds left in the period, but on the skate back to the benches Duchene decides to get chirpy. Buck gets through the glove taps just in time to have his stick snaked out from it’s loose hold by a smirking Duchene, and the shoving match the commences almost gets their entire first line thrown in the box for the start of the third, but it’s Buck that puts them all on notice as they skate back to their own benches.

“You’re a fucking joke, man!” Buck yells, still half-hanging off the sideboards, skate firmly tucked beneath the bench to give him leverage to lean back out and make direct eye contact with Duchene. “Your career is a joke, and you’re an embarrassment to the league. How’s that ring chasing going, Matty? I fucking lit you up, asshole, and I’ll do it again!”

Tommy makes the mistake of staring through the glass towards the Stars bench, where Dumba is staring directly at him. So. There’s that.

Whatever Duchene shouts back is lost to the final whistle and a battle for the puck that Stankoven ends up shoveling into his own zone just to kill off the last few seconds on the clock.

The ire hasn’t left Buck, once they’re in the room. They can all feel it, attitude fucking rolling off of him as they listen to Bobby walk them through his strategy to get rid of this congested mess of a game and get through to the net.

Tommy spends his twenty minutes trying to remember his last fight with Dumba.

It’s a tie game. There’s an edge to be had to winning a territorial fight like this — momentum can swing based entirely on whether or not Tommy’s fist makes contact enough times to fire up his team. The problem is the one player who’s been fired up the entire game isn’t doing shit to generate the kind of momentum they need to break out of this slog of a game and build some fucking offense.

There’s another option. They’re all pissed at the refs, and have been all game, and Tommy’s the locker room guy, the one they look to when their stars have said their piece and the coach has left them to their own devices. If the refs toss him, they’re gonna be amped the fuck up.

Nash would be pissed he’s even thinking about it. Buck might actually pick a fight he can’t win, if Tommy doesn’t play it right. Fighting Dumba won’t work, for this, so he’s gonna have to suck it up and play the villain, ignore the heavyweight fight and go for something gritty and fucking rude.

Benn, then.

It’s been a while since Tommy’s laid out Jamie Benn.

Both benches get warnings from the refs before the start of the third, and Buck blatantly ignores them the moment he’s on the ice, chirping every single black-and-neon green sweater that has a chance of hearing him, missing setups because he’s too busy laying reverse hits and generally being a pest.

Tommy absolutely shouldn’t find anything about this remotely amusing, because if he keeps it up, Dumba is absolutely gonna find a way to challenge Tommy, and everyone else is too frustrated with this new and unimproved Buckley. The problem is, Evan Buckley the pest is fucking hilarious, and the few insults Tommy has managed to catch are not only fantastically amusing, they’re also bitingly specific. Buck’s putting his stats and lore knowledge to good (evil) use.

He’s pretty sure he even catches a slyly worded allusion to cunnilingus that Benn very clearly does not like one bit, but Benn doesn’t have time for retaliation because Buck takes his momentary lapse to pick his pocket and spin into the Stars zone with three Avs on his heels.

The puck pings off the crossbar five different times before the Stars get possession again, and with fifteen minutes left in the game, Dadanov snipes one past Chim into the net.

Tommy can feel the bench deflate.

Dallas shaves another three and a half off the clock by clogging up the neutral zone before Tommy gets an opportunity on the ice with Benn’s line, and he doesn’t waste any time — down a goal with eleven and change left in the game, he doesn’t see a whole lot of other options, and he doesn’t really give Benn the opportunity to not engage.

It takes a bit of maneuvering.

Stripes haven’t called shit all game, from either side, so it’s a risk, either way, and Tommy’s goal isn’t to actually injure Benn, just make the hit look bad enough and blatant enough that they’ve got no choice but to call it. He waits until the puck has been off Benn’s stick for a hot second before he slams him into the boards, and the crowd gets loud.

The whistle blows, and just for the hell of it, Tommy wraps both hands around his stick and shoves it into the middle of Benn’s back when he tries to get back to his feet.

Johnston gets an arm around his neck half a second later, and both linesmen come careening in to break it up.

He’s assessed with five minutes, which isn’t ideal, when that shaves off half their time left in the game, but a minute and a half into the penalty kill Heiskanen takes a chop at Ravi when he manages to get the puck down past the red line, and suddenly they’re four-on-four for at least the middle portion of Tommy’s gamble.

Dallas’ special teams aren’t as good as theirs — not when they’re evenly matched — and when McKinley finds Panikkar with a stretch pass there’s no one in the lane to intercept.

Tie game, with a minute and a half left in Tommy’s major, back to being shorthanded, but there’s signs of life on the bench, and Buck seems to have finally fucking cooled his jets (Tommy spends forty seconds wondering which one of them convinced Bobby to force a Honey Stinger into his hands).

In typical fashion, the moment Tommy’s out of the box, Dallas returns to slowing the game right down, well aware that it’s the easiest way to neutralize the Avs offense, and the minutes chip away while Tommy watches the clock.

On a flyby, Duchene chirps at Buck and Diaz both on the bench, which is ultimately the Stars fucking downfall, even if they don’t know it.

With forty-seven seconds left on the clock, Diaz skates through traffic and gets a saucer pass down the ice to O’Connor, and Lundkvist blows a tire in his attempt to defend him.

The puck sails in right under Oettinger’s blocker.

In the locker room, ten minutes later, Tommy catches Nash’s eye and does his best not to look guilty, but Tommy has studied Nash’s career, and they both know exactly where he’d gotten his ham handed idea from. The expression on Nash’s face tells him everything he needs to know about how quickly he’ll end up a healthy scratch if he tries it again.

Tommy’s still working through his wording, five hours later, when he settles into his room in Boston. Tomorrow’s a rest day, nothing but a coaches meeting on the books, so regardless of how things go with Buck, he’s at least got the advantage of a full day where they’re not required to speak to each other, once Tommy’s said his piece. He’ll give Buck the night, let him sleep off whatever agitation had had him so hot all day, knock on his door in the morning and apologize, maybe convince him to grab another coffee, if the apology goes decently.

And if not, he’ll have the day to lick his wounds and remind himself that he’d absolutely known he was setting himself up to hurt his own feelings.

He’s eternally grateful his trade had happened so early, because he’d heard rumblings on the plane ride over that the Altitude team was planning a half-day of get-to-know-the-new-guys coverage, and he’s already done his thirty-minute sit down with Keefe.

The knock on his door startles him out of his reverie, and when he swings the door open, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s expecting, but it sure as hell isn’t the chagrined, lopsided smile of Evan Buckley, leaning against the door frame and looking contrite.

“Buck. Hi.”

Buck’s chest rises with the deep breath he takes.

“Hi,” he says, and in the dim hallway light, with his shoulders turned in on themselves, he looks suddenly vulnerable and tired. “Can we talk?”

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #bucktommy hockey au #dallas fans your stars are getting all my vitriol this chapter #actually i'm blaming jamie benn specifically for me losing the first draft of this chapter

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