#i only have a handful of days left at home.. gotta make em count

[sameteeth]

got my OTHER eyebrow pierced >:3c

[macfrog]

backspin | bbf!frankie

surprise! we're taking a quick detour to fuck around with our brother's best friend again. what else is new.

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: you try to get even with frankie. it works. warnings: reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, enemies to lovers, mention of throwing up, alcohol consumption, cursing, oral, more dickhead frankie and more sassy reader word count: 6.3k

part one: rack 'em | main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💙

So, you fucked around with Frankie.

It’s no big deal, right? It was just a one-time thing. There was tension, you guys relieved it. Scratched an itch. Served a purpose. You still fucking hate the guy, and he still fucking hates you.

Nothing’s changed.

Right?

Mal sprays wine all over the kitchen table when you tell her. Gargles a, Sorry – fuck – sorry, through what little of the alcohol is left in her mouth.

You wipe your face clean in the crook of your elbow. It’s in your fucking eyelashes. You blink the room back into focus, and – “Jesus, Mal!”

Dark droplets teeter around the edge of the table, threatening to plunge straight down onto your mom’s chair cushions – thus damning you to her very own personal hell for all eternity. You can feel the flames licking at your feet already.

Your best friend rips a sheet of paper towel and drags it over the wood – white bleeding violet at the first swipe. “Why’d you tell me as I was taking a sip?”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking hose me down,” you hiss, taking the soaked crumple from her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d be a little surprised that you and Catfish Morales hooked up? Are you fucking ser–? Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

You glare at her from the sink, upper lip curled.

Mallory Bennett has been privy to your every thought since you were six years old. Hand in hand, arms swinging as you marched into first grade together.

Most days, you barely have to open your mouth – one flinching expression, one flash of eye contact, and she can parrot your own thoughts back to you.

Francisco Morales going down on you two nights ago is the first thing you’ve ever had to confess to her. It’s the first thing she never saw coming.

“Shut up,” you breathe, eventually thawing and sweeping over to your chair. The table sticks to your arms when you sit back down.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, alright? A lot of tension. I mean, you gotta fuckin’ feel it. You two hate each other’s guts! And you’re both single, and you’re only here for two weeks. And – he’s Santi’s best friend. It’s just…it’s the perfect storm.”

Another exasperated sigh passes your lips. You settle back, eyes closed, and lift your palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“You wouldn’t’ve told me if you didn’t wanna talk about it. Was he good?”

“Mal.”

“Was he?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.” Her face screws up; the gold hoops wobble from her ears. “Like hell you don’t remember. Tell me.”

Your eyes slip from her over to Ange. The old pup pushes herself to her feet with a huff, her joints stiff and bones frail. She moseys over to your side. You scratch the back of the dog’s neck, shrugging to Mal.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way to a free round of drinks, I’d remember enough to share.”

“Fuck you,” she snorts, voice rounded by her wine glass. “Maybe that just means you gotta do it again – sober.”

You scoff.

Angie looks up at you – watery eyes blinking, tail slowly fanning.

Mal’s already recounting the time Frankie snitched on the two of you for raiding your mom’s makeup bag. She waves her hands in the air, eyes bulging.

Do it again. The thought actually makes you want to laugh.

You and Frankie – you and Catfish, hooking up again. As if the first time wasn’t a total mishap, the biggest mistake in judgement you think you’ve ever made.

He drove you home, he made you come, he left.

One nil, right? You have one up on him. You got yours, and he probably went home and jerked off to the thought of it. Alone in his room, tongue licking at the corners of his mouth where he could still taste your release.

You won.

You won, against Frankie Morales.

“…and then fuckin’ – Pope tried to help us tidy it up, remember? He was scrubbing the hell outta the lipstick on the mirror. But that asshole – Frankie,” she seethes, “he went downstairs as soon as your mom came home. As soon as she…And he fucking ratted!”

She growls, balls her fists. Screws her eyes tight shut like the enraged eight-year-old she was back then. She still has the same little crease between her brows. “What the hell got into you that night? We hate him, junior!”

Ange slumps to the floor with a sigh.

“Me too, girl,” you mutter to her, twirling the base of your glass. You look back up at the crazed woman opposite. “I don’t know,” you insist. “I was drunk, we were on our own…It just happened, alright?”

Her shoulders roll in a shrug. She lifts her glass to clink the neck of the bottle against the rim, purple wine spilling in a swirl. “Maybe it’s the start of something.”

You scoff. “Mal. Come on.”

“I’m serious. Perfect storm.”

“Nope. No storm. Stop that.”

She jabs a tipsy finger in your direction. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you messed around with your arch fucking menesis– arch fucking…with – with Frankie, and you just – still feel nothing for him?”

“No,” you admit, “I feel plenty for him. I hate his fucking guts. I used to wish every birthday that he’d disappear. One time in church, when Father Joseph told everybody to bow their heads ‘n pray, I actually asked God to kill him for me.”

“Not Father Joseph!” Mal shrieks, grinning. “He was so fucking hot, by the way, for a dude with no hair. When the sunlight caught that cueball just right…that was a real fucking miracle. Goddamn.”

You bat her snicker away. “Me and Frankie used to brawl so bad that our moms had to separate us,” you continue. “I had to sit in the front seat if we drove anywhere – and that still didn’t stop him! He’d reach around the headrest and flick my fucking ear.”

“You gave as good as you got, though. I’m surprised he can even still get hard, the number of times your foot…” She swings her leg and kicks your thigh softly. “He was an ass, I know.”

“He was an ass then, he’s still an ass now. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay,” Mal concedes. Her dark, glossy hair surfs around the lip of her wine glass when she leans in. “But you wouldn’t’ve told me unless it was still on your mind. ‘s all I’m saying.”

You throw yourself back with a quick, angry shake of your head. Your tongue flicks over your top lip.

“All I’m saying,” she repeats, holding her hands up.

But I won, you think – in a petulant little whine. Like you could shake your fists and stamp your feet at the same time. You got one up on him. He – he made you…

He made you come. He saw you. Felt you. Tasted you.

He knows what you sound like, whimpering his fucking name. Drunk on him, begging him not to stop. And now, the image of him fisting his cock over the memory of it feels less like a victory, and more like –

Another fucking loss.

You have no idea what he looks like, coming undone. No clue what his fragmented moans sound like as they tear from the bottom of his throat and rain down over you. You don’t know the weight of him in your hands, the wet slip of his tip as he leaks over your tongue.

Mal’s onto something new. Taken by a Facebook post from some girl you went to high school with. Biggest head I ever saw on a fucking baby, she mutters, wincing and then sprinkling a handful of salted peanuts on her tongue.

Frankie’s cocky smirk clouds over the sight of her at the opposite end of your kitchen table.

Francisco fucking Morales. The asshole wins again.

All at once, you hear his rotten little jeers in your ear – curbed painfully by his middle finger searing across your lobe. You feel his heavy palm on your skull, fingers scrunching roughly into your scalp.

A temper boils between your ears, heavy over your head. It feels juvenile, as if it’s armed with a Barbie in one fist and a juice box in the other. Sunken and wallowing in shame and rage, red-hot waves which wash over you as Mal cackles at some video on her phone.

You feel Frankie’s hands around your legs; the flicks of his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. The swarm of butterflies deep in your belly as you watched his figure swagger back across the street to his truck.

Loss after loss after loss. Each one wearing a satisfied smirk and a Standard Oil baseball cap.

Each one staining deeper than red wine in varnished oak.

You grit your teeth.

Frankie –

fucking –

Morales.

Santi floats the idea of a barbecue. Because of course he fucking does.

He says his place is too small, too many neighbors in earshot – and as long as Ms. Teller takes both hearing aids out, she won’t even know it’s happening.

“Just the guys ‘n us,” he chirps. “You, me, Will, Benny…Fran-kie…?”

You gag down the line. Body instinct whenever his name is mentioned, worsened by the latest developments in your relations. Ange glances up from her spot beneath the oak tree – her milky fur stark against the velvet green grass.

Santi chokes on a laugh. “Mal, too, if that helps with the Catfish thing.”

You lean the phone on your collarbone, sitting forward to apply a second coat of polish to your toes. The red gloss shines in the early morning light. “He is not welcome in my house.”

“First off: not your house. Second –”

“My house for the next eleven days.”

He says your name flatly. It sounds like a door being slammed. It shuts you up as though you’re nine again. “…Second: he won’t be in the house. He’ll be in the backyard.”

“You owe me,” you protest. “For ditching me the other night. I’m cashing in, Santiago. You want a cookout? No Frankie.”

Your brother sighs. “And how am I supposed to explain that to him, hermana?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Santi mutters something incoherent, though you know from the razor-sharp tone of voice that it’s no compliment. Still – he’s a man of his word.

Eventually he agrees: no Frankie at the barbecue.

The store is chilly, plucking goosebumps along your arms.

You round the aisles, scanning your list. You’ve been battling with a janky front wheel which has squealed and veered off-course at every fucking turn. It almost mowed over an elderly woman in the meat aisle.

You’ve cleared most of what Santi told you to get. Drinks, ice, buns, meat, corn on the cob. He wanted to use Mom’s dinner plates – but that, you countered, runs the risk of them being scraped, chipped, or worst of all, smashed.

That’s not a risk you’re willing to take. So you’ve piled in some paper plates and plastic cutlery, too – just to be on the safe side.

The cashier cuts a familiar figure at the checkout: her navy apron and full-cheek grin. She’s a staple sight from your childhood – a pair of dimples and sweet giggle trailing after you as you’d follow your mom’s skirt back out to the parking lot.

Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands when she notices you approaching. “Well, would you look who it is?” she sings.

“Hey, Pol,” you say, fanning yourself with your scrawled shopping list. “How you doing?”

The belt jolts your supplies closer to her bejeweled fingers.

“Same as always, honey. Rockin’ and rollin’. What brings you back to town?”

“Housesitting, dog-sitting…Santi-sitting. Mom and Dad are on a cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. “She told me last week. Caribbean, right?”

You nod, sucking a deep, unenthused breath in.

Pol hums, smiling to herself as she clicks the barcode for your hotdogs into her computer. She begins telling you what her granddaughter thinks of second grade – her two times table and the tadpoles they’re keeping in class.

Your eyes sweep around the store as she chats. Everything looks the way it always did, a time capsule from the nineties. Speckled floor and fluorescent lights; placards hanging overhead which sway each time the great glass doors pull open.

Baskets of fruit and veg lined alongside a lawn set on offer. Beside that, heaps of flowers and stacked planters. Beside those, a discarded shopping cart. And beside that –

Frankie fucking Morales.

Well – the silhouette of him. It’s pretty bright outside. But you’d recognize the outline of that dumb baseball cap anywhere. He’s talking to one of the assistants.

You hand Pol the cash Santiago gave you, and she trades it for a receipt. Dumping your bags back into your cart, you nod to her in thanks and stalk off towards the sliding doors.

Frankie tosses and twirls a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The assistant is telling him about some big college football game.

Your grip tightens on the janky-wheeled cart. You feel your skin begin to heat; prickling all over your arms, flushing down between your shoulder blades. Gathering somewhere south of there.

But you walk by him with purpose, choosing to ignore that warm feeling. Choosing to ignore…him.

He doesn’t turn. Thankfully.

The doors grant you exit and you give your cart one good shove across the threshold, back out into blinding daylight and sticky heat.

“Alright, man,” Frankie’s voice calls from behind. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

You nail your eye on the car. It’s, like, fifteen paces. You can make it fifteen steps without having to deal with him, right? If you take longer strides, it’s probably more like ten.

Ten steps, and then you’re in the sanctuary of your car. You don’t have to see, speak to, or deal with him.

So why are you slowing down?

You’re slowing down. You are. You’re borderline fucking loitering. Quietly hoping he’ll notice, catch up, maybe talk to –

You click the unlock button. The car beeps in response.

Five steps out. The front wheel is rattling. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

Four.

Three.

The wheel spins, flitting like a confused compass needle, and stops dead in the opposite direction. The cart hurtles out of your grip for less than a second before you recover it and haul it close to your car, cursing under your breath.

But a force – stronger, steadier – reaches around your body and takes hold of the thing. It guides it back to course. A force which, when it speaks, sounds a shit ton like –

“Woah, lil Santi,” Frankie mutters, and your chest leaps.

You freeze in your tracks. His weight is still around your back. He’s right fucking there, when you turn to look.

The brim of his cap bumps against your head. He steps back with a smirk on his face. He’s so fucking smug, you could slap him. “You tryna cause a goddamn accident with that thing?”

You pull a disingenuous smile. “Hey, Fish. Ever tried minding your own business?”

He feigns a wounded sound and clutches his chest. “Ouch. I’m just looking out for ya.”

“Feels more like you’re pestering me.” You pull on the door handle and slot the first bag along the backseat.

Frankie lifts his chin, peering in at the contents. The star-spangled plated, the dripping bags of ice. “Having a party?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You yank the bag from his sight, spinning to push it alongside the others. “Nope.”

He crosses his arms. “Sure looks like you’re having one.”

“Well, I’m not.” You slam the door and turn back to him, staring blankly.

“Forgot,” he sniffs, “you need friends to have a party.”

“Hilarious. Those shit jokes how you make all your friends?”

He nods, impressed. Pouts his lips like an annoying little fish. Suits his stupid fucking nickname. “Then why’d Benny call ‘n ask if I’ll be at Pope’s parents’ tonight?”

Shit. Fucking – Benny.

You sigh, eyes rolling closed. Your fingers massage your temples. “It’s not…it’s…”

“Cookout, right? Yeah. That stings, baby. No call, no text. You owe me, remember?”

“I owe you jack sh–”

“Two drinks,” Frankie clips, holding a finger up to shush you. “Three, if you count saving your car from one hell of a scratch.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and then give voice to, “It’s a small gathering of friends, and – now you, apparently.”

He sways forward, bumping the cart into your hip. “You need me to bring anything?”

You heave it straight back at him, hopefully hard enough to bruise. “Tranquilizer gun, if you’ve got one.”

“Can get something even stronger, if it’s a party you’re after.”

Your eyes thin. “Wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite for much longer if she found out you were doing coke in her backyard.”

Frankie smiles. That trademark Catfish grin. “I’ve done worse in her kitchen, baby.”

He’s so goddamn cocky. So full of it, it makes you want to scream. He studies you, eyes shadowed by his cap. His hair flicks out around his ears, dark curls doused in golden sunlight.

When your eyes trace the shape of his jaw, the wiry hair above his top lip – the faint flicker of a memory glows across your skin.

The weight of his hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. The bristling feeling ghosting the inside of your thighs. Your desperate wet, his tongue covering ground across your body like claiming territory.

Every shade of wrong. Ignoring every atom in your body – betraying every version of yourself for ten minutes of euphoria. He brought every numb nerve under your skin to attention, the second he knelt between your knees.

But he’s looking at you now, the same way he did the other night. It’s boyish and dangerous. A naked match just waiting to fall.

Maybe you’re waiting for an excuse to drop it.

Frankie gives his cap a quick tug, and makes off for his truck.

“See you at seven, Garcia.”

Daylight melts into dusk and with it, goes the sharp sting of summer. A pale blue rolls across the horizon, covering the yard in a hazy sort of chill. A relieving breeze, like satin over newly burned skin.

You’re still fucking sweating.

“Are you going to help me, or you just gonna lie there and text your girlfriend?” you call across the yard.

The dark figure spilling over the edge of the hammock grunts in response.

“Santi.”

Your brother groans, rolling free from the marigold fabric. He strides across the lawn, swinging an arm down to ruffle Ange’s ears. “Not a girlfriend,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “She’s…she’s more of a…”

You lift your hand. “Not something I need to know.”

He laughs and looks at the spread on the table. He lifts the corner of a tricolor napkin, straightens a plastic fork. The foil over the hamburger buns crinkles. “We did a good job. Looks great.”

“We?” You scoff, slapping his wrist away. “Yeah, me and the fucking dog, more like.”

“How much did it all come to? The food and shit?”

You shrug. “Like, forty dollars. I don’t know.”

“Gave you sixty. Where’s my change?”

You frown, hands on your hips. “If you don’t know how to budget properly, that’s not my problem.”

“And if you don’t know when to just lie and say you spent it all, that’s not mine. Twenty bucks, kid.” He holds his hand out, fingers beckoning.

The squeal of the gate interrupts, followed by a barrage of voices. Will and Benny and Mal and – as you lean back to watch them parade through the yard, you spot the figure of Frankie at their heels.

“Pope?” Will calls. “Pope, do me a favor. Remind me which one of us threw up at Busch Gardens that one time. Remember – right after we rode Gwazi?”

Santiago chuckles. “I remember Mallory wearing her raspberry slushie.”

Will guffaws in Mal’s face.

“I spit up!” she protests. “I spit up in a flowerbed. I was not wearing my slushie.”

“You were fluorescent pink the whole day,” Will says. He slings an arm around your shoulders. “You remember, lil Santi?”

You frown. Yeah, you fucking remember.

You remember being forced to sit between Frankie and Mal the entire way home. Santiago got dibs on the front seat by pretending he was carsick, and Mal had to sit by an open window so she didn’t stink your dad’s car out with all her raspberry-flavored puke.

You and Frankie bickered the whole journey. Both absolutely certain that the other was leaning too far over your seats. Your dad vowed he’d never let you both in his car at the same time, ever again.

“Mhm,” you grit, shooting daggers at your best friend.

She mouths a Sorry, and then places her salad bowl in the middle of the table. “Enough about throwing up. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

The boys spend twenty minutes arguing over how the barbecue works, before a single bit of food is cooked. You and Mal watch from the table, sneaking Ange slices of cheese and giggling when Will and Benny break into their fifth argument of the night.

Santi and Frankie take charge, shoving the brothers out of the way.

Pope passes over the meat, while Frankie mans the grill. He lifts his cap and wipes his brow with his bicep, giving his head a shake as he flips burgers and turns sausages.

And no, you’re not watching him. You’re focused on Mal and her story about some guy from work. Or – it might be a guy from her yoga class. The instructor, maybe? You’re not sure. Frankie just flapped the collar of his shirt and the hem lifted, exposing a sliver of his tummy.

You’re not watching him, though.

He runs his tongue along his top lip, focusing on the sizzle and spatter of the grill. His arm tenses, turning the tongs over and over. Wide shoulders stretch when he reaches for a plate.

He’s laughing quietly at whatever Santi’s babbling about at his side. His eyes are stuck on the barbecue in front of him. His fingers twirl around the tongs again. He never looked so lean and so broad and so fucking different, all at once.

Weird different. Good different?

You feel your cheeks flush with heat. This time, it’s not so much anger, as it is –

Oh, shit.

Mal gets up for a refill at the same time Santiago jogs inside to grab more meat. You and Frankie are alone on the patio – Will and Benny are kicking a ball for Ange to chase on the grass.

Morales turns, and you instantly stare down at your beer. You take a forceful swig as he approaches.

“Hotdog?” he asks, holding a plate down to you.

“Huh?”

He glares at you and scoffs. “Are you dumb? Hotdog.” He slips it onto the table in front of you.

You squint at the grill marks, and then squint up at Frankie. Puzzled and…offended, at the same time. You come back to your body with a jolt. “Why the hell are you–? Have you laced it with something?”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder, tongue between his teeth. “No, I haven’t fucking laced it with anything. I just figured you should have the first one, since you put all this on for us. But – Jesus, give me it.”

Your fingers lock around the paper plate when he tries to steal it back. For all that he’s a dick and might actually try to poison you – you’re fucking starving.

You figure you can stomach the poison.

Frankie sighs. He lets go. “I’m tryna be nice, alright? You know nice?”

“I know nice. You’re not it.”

“Shut up and eat your hotdog, lil Santi.”

You mimic him in a squeak as he strolls off, shaking his head. Still, the second he’s back at the grill, you rip into the hotdog.

Frankie stays at the opposite end of the table for the entire meal – closest seat to the barbecue, and furthest seat from you. There’s too much chatter, too much hilarity being thrown back and forth between you for either of you to kick up a row.

Probably better for the guys’ sakes, but – you want to fucking row.

It’s like a hit, now. A rush of electricity, any time Frankie looks at you for longer than it takes his face to twist into a grimace. You’re hunting for ways to ignite something – anything. Looking for an excuse to drop that naked match and set the whole thing alight.

Because it’s fun, when you’re in the heat of it. Feeling his eyes on you, as hot and angry as flames. Being suffocated by the smoke of it all; breathing in less and less air and more…him.

And, anyway – who knows you better than the one person who pisses you off the most?

As the sun is snuffed by the heavy hand of dusk, you disappear to a quieter corner of the yard. Tucked between two thick beech trees, you throw yourself into the hammock – one leg draped over the side, swinging idly through the night air.

A beer bottle balanced on your tummy, the round base seeping a chilled ring into your shirt. The swish of leaves overhead and the annoying midges at your ears for company.

That is – until the sound of footsteps over crisp grass, and the creak of an old, splintered garden chair disturb your peace.

Frankie adjusts his cap, flatting his fringe beneath it, and sits back. “You never change, do you, Garcia? Still the same little longer you always were.”

You hold your hands out, gulping back beer – and glee. “Can I fucking help you? I’m minding my own business.”

“Thought you might want some company.”

“Not yours, dickhead. You think I’m way the hell over here ‘cause I wanted you to come annoy me?”

He hums, picking at a flake of paint on the armrest. “Sure wanted me to annoy you the other night.”

“Alright,” you clip. “Cheap shot. You been practicing that one all afternoon?”

“Since I saw you at the store.”

You roll your eyes.

Frankie slips a cigarette from its pack and lights it, tipping his chin to blow a white cloud to the sky. “You’re too much fun,” he tells the stars.

You squint through the dark, staring at the glowing cherry. “What?”

“You. You get so pissed, so easily. Always have.”

“Well, you antagonize me. Always have.”

His cheeks lift. It’s something softer than a smirk, still laced with too much attitude to be a smile. “That’s ‘cause you were always around. Everywhere Santi went, there you were. Closer than his shadow.”

“Well,” you glower, “’s what happens when you have a big brother. You’re void of love; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I get it,” he says. “It just got fun to mess with you, after a while.”

“Uhuh,” you take another swig, “so is that what you’re doing? Messing with me?”

Frankie’s shoulders jump. “You tell me. There were two of us in your room that night.”

You swing your legs down to the grass. It’s brittle under your socks when you stand, still focusing on the end of his cigarette. “Damn, you really can’t shut up about it, can you? How many times have you tugged one to the thought of it?”

“Tugged one,” he snickers, but he seems nervous – watching as you approach. “What age are you?”

You push his knees wider, slotting between his thighs. “Which part does it for you? What sends you over the edge?”

“Come on, lil Santi,” Frankie says, averting his eye. “You’re embarrassing yourself now.”

One knee up, resting on the crease of his jeans. You lean forward and nudge his hip, lay your hands gently on his shoulders. “I bet you still hear me in your dreams.”

He scans up and down your body, lingering on your bare thigh. “Not – not gonna work, kid,” he promises, shaking his head. “You still annoy the fuck outta me.”

“Right, right.” You pinch the pale stick from between his teeth. “’cause nothing’s changed, yeah?”

His head sways in agreement. He’s distracted, watching as you lift your hand to your mouth.

You smile down at him. “’cept you know how I taste now, so.”

You slot the damp end of the cigarette between your lips and suck. Sharp, acrid heat sails over your tongue and down your throat, filling your chest in one inhale. You cough a little, batting the smoke as you blow it out.

“Tastes fucking disgusting,” you croak. “How can you smoke these?”

Frankie’s eyes never leave your lips. “You get used to it.”

You take another draw, letting the smoke soar through the space between you. “Gross,” you say, and prop the cig back between his lips. “Just like you!”

“Sh…shut up,” he groans, adjusting in his seat.

“Make me.”

But he doesn’t bite. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares back, rolling the smoldering stick between his thumb and finger. Running his tongue along his teeth.

You spill the last of your beer onto your tongue, cocking an eyebrow at him, and push from his lap.

You make it no more than five steps, before that same weight from the parking lot is around your shoulders.

He pings the cigarette somewhere in the grass, and grabs onto your elbow.

“Fran– Jesus – Where are we–?”

He drags you through the dull dusk to the other side of the lawn, ignoring the click of the motion sensor. You’re thrown through a wooden door onto cold concrete before the yard light floods over you.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Weak slivers of moonlight illuminate each tool hanging from the wall. The fairy lights outside lose their battle against the darkness the second they creep through the window.

Before you can sling something mocking at him, Frankie has you pinned against the wall.

“You want me to make you shut up?” he growls, teeth grazing your neck. His fingers slip behind the waist of your shorts, plucking at the button. “I’ll make you shut up. Make you shut up all goddamn night.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shirt. You push on his chest, walking him backwards over to the workbench.

The thing shudders when he rocks against it.

“The fuck are you doing?” he murmurs, watching as you kneel before him.

“Getting used to it,” you reply.

You pull his belt apart, loosen the fly on his pants, and pull until they’re low on his hips.

Frankie holds onto the bench with a white-knuckle grip. He lays his hand over the crown of your head, rubbing small circles. A laugh slips across his tongue. “This what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

You ignore him, instead focusing on the solid shape in his underwear.

His hips flinch when you drag your palm along it. He’s hard already. He hisses at your cold fingers on his stomach, tensing as your knuckles skim below the elastic.

And then…he’s in your palm. All of him. Frankie fucking Morales.

You’re trying not to think too deep about it.

Your fingers wrap around him, barely meeting around his width, and you slip him from his boxers.

His cock springs free, swaying once, twice – then settling to the right.

Your mouth fills with saliva. Suddenly – there’s no way not to think too deep about it.

He’s…he’s big. He’s thick; smooth and sculpted, veins trailing around his shaft. It’s not like you ever considered what he’s walking around with before, but looking at it now – you can’t believe it’s him.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him all the way down to the hair at his base. A wet trail, lips curving around the size of him. You run your tongue up and down, circling the tip and toying with it.

Frankie cups your cheek. “Pretty little mouth,” he utters. “Put it to good use, huh?”

You don’t need him to ask twice.

You sink down on him. Every inch of him – every aching, choking inch. Your jaw slackens to take him; nails digging into his thighs when he bumps the back of your throat.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he hisses. His hand comes down on your head a little too heavily.

You yelp and pull back, gasping when he slips out. “Prick,” you breathe, closing your lips around his tip again.

“Just too sweet with it,” he murmurs, guiding himself back across your tongue.

You suckle on him, using your hands to pump the inches your mouth can’t take.

Frankie’s head tips back, panting at the roof. His hips thrust to meet your movements. “Feels so – goddamn – good,” he moans, and you hum with glee.

You take his balls in your hands, kneading them as you work your way lower. He’s so deep in your mouth that it makes your eyes water. Each slip of his tip against the back of your throat makes you gag, pulls a lewd, muffled sound from your chest.

It shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But he’s falling apart under your fingertips, he’s unwinding right before you. He’s whispering your name, begging you not to stop. Just like that, just like that, just like that. Oh, fuck, just like that.

It’s addictive. Now that you know how he looks, how he feels, you’ll never go back to before. When the most thrill he gave you was a burning temper; feeling your pulse jump in your throat with rage.

This – whatever the fuck this is – is all you know, now. Pulling threads from one another, watching the way they unravel. Watching each other unravel. Flashes of eye contact, salt and slick and sex dripping from every secret word.

Frankie’s hips jerk. His cock spasms.

You don’t want him to come down your throat. You don’t want him to climax when he’s too deep for you to taste it.

You want him all over – your lips, your tongue, dribbling down your chin. You want to mix him with your saliva and swallow; warm, salty, Frankie.

He got his taste. Now you want yours.

You bring your hands up to his thighs, purposefully pushing back off him.

His grip loosens, and he looks down. Brows low and close, eyes blown wide like he’s higher than any drug could take him.

He’s as addicted as you are.

“My mouth,” you mumble, head of his cock circling your glistening lips. “In my mouth.”

“Yeah?” he says, and the weight of his cock slaps on your bottom lip. “That where you want it, baby?”

“Mhm.” You wrap your lips back around him.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Frankie spits, laughing. “Shit – just like that. Yeah, that’s it.”

Three, four more soaking strokes of your tongue and he’s twitching again.

You pull back only enough to rest his tip on your tongue, feeling the pulsing heat as he comes. Watching the way his face tightens, the pull of his brows as it overcomes him.

His eyes stay locked on you. Your fluttering lashes, your puffy, glossy lips. He fills your mouth and then some – semen spilling from the corners and dribbling down your jaw. And the sound he makes – this broken, scattered moan, bordering on a fucking whimper – is fucking perfect.

Frankie’s hand locks at the base of your skull, holding you steady until he’s done. His cock slips from your bottom lip. He gives one last satisfied sigh, petting your head as you stroke him slowly, tenderly – swiping kitten licks at the dripping mess of him.

“Fuck,” he moans, letting his eyes close over. His weight slumps against the workbench. “The fuck do you spend so much time yapping for when you’re that good with your mouth?”

You hum in amusement, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. He’s softening, but still a decent size. Still a weight to it that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

One last little kiss, and you tuck him back into his boxers. You drag the back of your hand across your chin.

Frankie holds his hands out, and you pull yourself up. He fixes himself into his jeans, turning away to do up his belt. He had his cock in your throat two minutes ago, and here he is pretending to be shy.

He turns back around, half disappeared to the dark shed. “I, uh…I don’t want you to think that I came here just to…just for that.”

Your tongue dabs at the inside of your cheek, all salty. “Then this is awkward, ‘cause that’s the only reason I hadn’t kicked you out yet.”

He laughs, dropping your gaze. “You…” he shakes his head, “…are such a little shit, you know that?”

It’s nicer than he would’ve worded it half an hour ago. But still – having an exchange with Frankie that doesn’t involve spitting insults or jagged glares, warms your blood in a way that’s new and…unsettling.

“We should probably…” You toss a thumb over your shoulder, eyes flitting to the string bulbs outside. “We don’t want them wondering what’s…you know.”

He nods and strides over to the door. The wood squeals against concrete as he pulls it open.

The summer swirls around you again, sweetening the stuffy heat of the shed. Mal’s voice surfs through the breeze – she’s still arguing over the Busch Gardens story.

You make to step out, and Frankie’s arm halts you.

He opens his palm. “Even,” he tells you. “We’re even.”

He seems sure of himself. Sure of you. He looks you in the eye and doesn’t blink.

You smirk. Your hand slips into his, letting him shake your fist once. You stare straight back at him.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Francisco.”

[the-kr8tor]

Starlight and Seafoam

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, CW food mentions, TW death, CW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 10 >>> CHAPTER 11

The street is bustling and teeming with people as you pay for the new mortar and pestle that you've been saving for a long time. The coins clink on the counter as you drop it on the wood. You hate to see your hard earned money go but you're glad that you have your very own mortar and pestle in exchange.

“Careful now it's heavy.” The old shopkeeper smiles at you.

“I've got it, thank you!” You heave the heavy stone in your small arms, waddling towards the door, struggling to open it with both arms occupied, a kind gentleman opens it for you and you smile politely, your mother didn't raise you to be rude after all. “Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome.” The stranger says with a gruff voice, his large frame casts a shadow over you, fancy clothes making you gawk. Gold threads sewed into the finest cloth. His brown eyes only spares you a quick once over, tufts of chestnut hair flowing in the breeze, chiseled face turning towards the shopkeeper.

Walking out of the store, the door shuts closed behind you. Eyes still glued to the rich man, someone taps you on your shoulder.

“Careful, kid, that one can and will buy you if you don't stop gawking.” Sherry, an old neighbor of yours warns you. Her husband shushes her, eyes rolling at her gossiping. “Don't you shush me, Mickey, I'm right y’know!”

“The bloke's right there, love!” Mickey whisper shouts, he turns towards a customer, scowl disappearing, smiling politely over the vegetable stand.

You notice some people whisper too, from the butcher across the street to the florist on your right. Their main topic is the mysterious rich man in the store you just left.

Sherry clicks her tongue, slyly beckoning you over, whispering close in your ear. She smells of lettuce and cigars.

“Listen, girl,” you nod, trusting the adult. “you better get home ‘cause word around town is that wanker right there is a skin trader.” She says the word with malice. “See his fancy dancy clothes? He got ‘em from selling children like yourself.”

“What's a skin trader?” You ask, eyes wide and concerned. The mortar and pestle gets heavier in your arms.

“Didn't dear old mum warn you about ‘em?”

“Stop scaring the poor child, Sher.” her husband warns, busy with a line of customers while his wife gossips with a thirteen year old.

“This ‘ere is a private conversation, Mickey!” She turns back towards you, “Jus’ be careful, kiddo. I like you, you've got ‘em magic hands with them herbs. I don't want you gettin' sold off to a noble house, yeah?” you nod, “Stay away from him and you'll be good.” Shrugging, she pats your head.

“I don't think my mum would sell me.” You say with a small voice, fingers grazing over your necklace that's tucked under your blouse.

She scoffs, “tell that to little John, he was sold off for a bag of coins a few days ago.”

“Sher.” Mickey warns as your blood runs cold.

You know John, you've played with him a few times even though he runs his mouth like a sailor. Now you know why you haven't seen him around town. Nerves alight, you stay away from the shop's door.

Home calls for you, but you still have other errands to run.

“I've gotta go, thank you, Sherry.” You start to walk away with heavy strides and worry written on your face. She won't do that right? You thought. She loves me like her own, she can't— won't do that to me.

Mickey calls you back, “oh Y/N, grab a few of these for you and your mum, yeah? I know they're your favourite.” he smiles, putting a handful of cherry tomatoes inside the mortar.

“Thank you!” You smile, “It's her favourite too!”

“Aye, I know.”

His wife slaps him upside the head, “the fuck you mean ‘you know?’”

You leave before you get stuck in the middle of their argument. In your peripheral, you see the well dressed man leave the store without buying anything, he walks over to Sherry and Mickey. You don't stay long to hear their conversation.

—

Despite hurrying home, you end up walking towards the cabin with the sun already setting. Leaves crunch under your foot as you yawn, but your smile stays on your lips, happy enough that you have your newly purchased instrument in your arms, even though it's extremely heavy combined with the old canvas bags on your shoulder full of supplies you and your mother needed for the rest of the month.

Finally seeing the small cabin makes you weary, wanting to lay down in bed until she calls you for supper. Based on the smoke billowing from the chimney, you guess she already started cooking for dinner.

The heavy door creaks open as you push it open with your shoulder. “Mum, Mickey gave us cherry tomatoes! And you can't believe what I just heard—”

You freeze in the doorway, your mortar and pestle falls in your arms, clanging loudly on the wooden floor, it splits in half as the cherry tomatoes tumbles out of the mortar.

There he stands, the same well dressed man handing your guardian that you call mother, loved like your own mother, hugged like your own mother a bag of coins. They both pause in their movements.

The man cages you with his stare, an unreadable expression on his face, hazel eyes reflecting the fire in the hearth, turning it to crimson.

“Mum?” you frown, tears brimming in your eyes.

She can't, she won't but she still did it.

“Y/N, this is—”

“How could you?” You ask, broken, heart left split in half like the mortar on the floor.

She looks at you apologetically, hand reaching towards you instinctively. Your home seems to suffocate you.

The man exhales sharply like he's in pain. “I passed by her a few hours ago. She looks just like—”

You don't let him finish.

Bolting away with only the clothes on your back and the spare change in your pockets, you run as fast as you can without looking back.

“Love?” Hobie says it tenderly that you thought he was calling for someone else, again. “Love?” He calls a bit louder.

Hobie wakes you up back to reality, back to his hold. His thumb wipes the tears sliding down your cheeks, eyes glazing over. He sits on the edge of the pool, the fire next to him warming his drenched clothes whilst you float with only his hand anchoring you near him.

“I'm sorry.” He whispers.

You twist around in the water, arms placed on the ground next to him, fingers twisting around the frayed thread on his pants. Chin resting atop your elbow, you watch the fire crackle and burn timber.

Hobie's hands slide over to your nape, caressing softly, hoping it would make up for what you've lived through. He knows it doesn't, but he still wants to try.

After minutes of silence and listening to your soft sniffles, the warmth of the afternoon sun and fire illuminating your deep frown and tear stained cheeks. Hobie breaks the quiet.

“MJ—” for a second you thought he's calling you by her name again, and it shatters your heart all over again. “She…she was—”

“Don't tell me just because I told you mine.” You look up at him with sadness underneath your eyes. “Only tell me when you're ready.” He nods, squeezing you in thanks. “I told you mine because someone else has to know, just in case—”

Hobie knits his eyebrows. “In case of what?”

In case I die, in case I decide to stay on the island and you leave. In case, in case. You have a lot of them but you spare him the heartache. He'd do the same. Someone has to know your story, that's how you can live forever, you remember her old words.

You shake your head, “nothing.”

He understands, “alright, keep your secrets.” flicking his eyes down, he observes your fingers mindlessly playing with its thread. “Stop tryin’ to take my trousers off, you can just ask.”

You chuckle softly, the first time he's heard it since you sobbed in his arms a week ago.

“You wish, Hobie.”

He dramatically clasps his hands together, eyes closed like he's in prayer. “I wish Y/N would just ask me to take my trousers off.” He laughs, almost not finishing his own joke because of it.

You pinch his leg, earning a yelp from the pirate captain. “You always say something that ruins the moment.”

“You were chuffed though”

“Mm-hmm.”

He looks towards the beach right in between the trees. “It's finally low tide. C’mon, scuttlebutt, I've got somethin' to show you.” He stands up, giving you a helping hand.

“I swear if it's another pair of crabs fucking—”

“That was one time, get up or we might get stranded.”

“We're already stranded.” he frowns at your words.

You've been down since the night you cried in his arms. He's worried, properly so, used to the embers in you, used to the loud banter, it's only right that he worries. You're on your last legs, everything that has happened managed to catch up to you, and for him it's crawling up his neck like a swarm of ants, biting and nipping at him. But you're the priority, his priority, if you fall then he would tumble harder, landing on his face with a sickening crunch.

He doesn't mind, not finding it cumbersome, because you'd do the same for him too. Or he hopes you will.

Hobie has tried everything to make you feel better, caught fish the right way even though it made his blood boil with impatience and frustration. Shot at a seagull with the last of his bullets for a variety of meat that only made you sob for how tough it was. Not even chocolate can brighten your mood nowadays. He even postponed leaving the island until you're back to your usual self. But he knows you two can't stay here forever or the ants might finally reach his head, gnawing at his cheek, eating through his skin. Or worse, kill the fire inside you.

As a last resort, he has thought of a plan, although it's a gamble, a toss of a coin, whether or not it might make you feel worse or better then it all depends on how he acts. Hope is his main choice of weapon yet hope can kill you too.

Hobie huffs, crouching down to face you. His voice is soft. “We're not stranded, we're leaving tomorrow but before we do I have somethin’ to show you.” You look up at him with a frown.

You don't even want to leave anymore. What's waiting for you once you get on land? Nothing, nothing's waiting for you, just more longing for a family you might have and you might never have. And you're frightened at what awaits you.

“Do you want to really leave?” You ask forlornly.

“As much as I love our days here surviving, we have to leave eventually.” He's not sure either, he wants to stay with you but he has responsibilities to the crew and you. He knows you can't stay here or he might never see the fire blaze inside you again. “All I know is my crew might be waitin’ for us, yeah? Now get up.”

Might and Us, the words are a mind killer for you recently.

“Y/N, I know it's hard,” he cups the back of your head. “But you have to stand up, could you do that for me? I'll walk with you the entire time, I promise.”

“What if—?”

“Don't, remember what I told you? Don't let ‘em kill you for the second time.” His eyes bore into you. “Please? C’mon you even got me sayin’ please.”

With an exhale, you manage to clasp your hand in his. Hobie lifts you up to your feet. Water sloshes as you leave the pool, clothes drenched, air making you shiver.

“You hang around me too much.” Hand still in his, he leads you out to the eastern side of the island. “You've become too polite.”

“Is that supposed to be horrible?” Hobie takes his hand away for a moment to grab his vest that's hanging from a branch. “You're not even that polite.” he drapes it over your shoulders, taking your hand back in his hand.

Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, his scent clinging to you like the heat on your cheeks. You put your arms inside, wearing his vest proudly like a medal. Laying your cheek on his shoulder, he laces his fingers around yours, squeezing it tenderly.

It all seems natural to you now, all the wordless affection and care that you both act upon. You know this won't last the moment you two leave the island. So you savour it as much as you can, letting all of it linger in your mind, tucking it away until you need to relive it along the way.

“I'm polite,” you walk on soft leaves to grainy sand, the low tide providing a way towards a smaller island with rocky terrain. The sun beams just behind it, it's a beautiful sight but Hobie's eyes are on you. “If I want to.”

“Sure you are.”

He moves your intertwined hands behind him so he could exchange it with his unoccupied hand, holding you close. Like a moth to a flame, you half embrace him, hand on top of his waist, grasping softly at his skin, memorizing every indent. His warmer hand rests atop yours, while the other has managed to snake around your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Like broken pieces of a shattered glass, you fit together.

Hobie drowns in all of you. Your scent and touch leaving a mark on him, not like a scar that says that you've hurt him in the past, no, it's much more like a wound, a wound that he'd gladly let fester just so he can revisit you, revisit how you look like when you smile or cry, revisit how your soft palms touches his marred flesh.

He'd poke, prod and bleed the wound just to feel your touch again.

It's a lot harder to walk entangled together on the sandy bridge that connects your island to the other, but you two don't seem to mind as you leave your footprints on the sand.

“We have a couple of hours to explore before high tide or we'll get stuck here for an entire day.”

Would that be so bad?

You hum, “explore what?” Voice muffled by his shirt, he rubs softly at your upper arm, warming you.

“You'll see, I know you'll like it.”

“Great, you're gonna kill me.” You joke monotonously.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair. “I'd do it on our island instead.”

You chuckle, “how would you do it?”

“Stake to the heart.” You almost didn't understand him whilst his face is buried in your hair. “Classic.”

“Or you could choke me with the pomegranate seeds.”

“You'd like that, huh?” you can feel his smirk atop your head and you swear he kissed you faintly like a feather landing on you.

“I don't mind dying by fruit. Better yet, death by chocolate.”

“I'd mind, it would be hard to do that. Just think of the bloody logistics.” you two stop walking, finally reaching the tiny patch of land.

“For a second there I thought you didn't want me to die.” He leans away, hand still clasped in yours.

“That too.” You smile at him genuinely. Hobie enters the crevice in the wall, jagged rocks against his calloused hands. “C’mon then.” He holds his hand out to you and you don't hesitate to take it.

“Oh you're definitely gonna kill me.”

His laugh bounces around the cavern as you two shimmy towards the light at the far end of the tight alcove. Darkness soon envelops your vision. His piercings shine, acting as your guide. Like a ship to a lighthouse.

“It's a bit dark, Hobie.” Your voice echoes, concern laced in your voice. Not questioning your trust in him but concerned for what the dark could reveal to you.

“I've got you, just keep holding on to me, yeah?”

You sniff a reply, the dampness from the stone makes your nose itch from the musk.

Your feet splashes on a puddle, almost yelping at the sudden wetness. He holds on to you tighter while the rocks scratch at your back.

Hobie pauses before making way for you to pass through, making sure you don't trip on the way out.

The light almost blinds you as you finally make it to the end. Eyes adjusting, you squint at Hobie's gleeful face.

“We're here.”

Just behind Hobie is a massive ship, half of its hull is missing, mast broken, white sails fluttering aimlessly. There's something eerie about it, from how the sun's light filters through the cracks in the cavern ceiling, to the chipping golden paint that decorates the sides; barnacles have made a home on the broken bottom and crabs skittering away to its crevices. The sodden wood is inflated from the currents, wear and tear evident on its oak. It's gorgeously morbid when you think about the people who might've perished right there.

“Whose ship is this?” Your words echoes and bounces off the cave. You'd be lying if you didn't think it was the revenge for a split second, if not for its unfamiliar figure head, you'd collapse right on the spot.

“Don't know, I think It's navy but it doesn't have their flags so probably a merchant ship.” He comes closer to you, palm brushing over yours. “Look over there.” He glances behind you.

Turning around, you see several tally marks on the wall, an indication that someone survived. You glide your hands carefully over the marks, eyes curious and in disbelief.

“I counted, they were here for six months.”

You whirl around, “six? Fuck.”

“They got out though.”

You knit your brows. “How'd you know?”

“Come with me?”

“To the ship? It looks like it's about to collapse any second.”

“I tried climbing it, it's stable.” Hobie reaches for you, and again you take his hand.

“If I fall I'll blame you.”

“Thought you're good at climbin’?”

“Houses and trees, not a dilapidated ship that's more than ready to be scrapped. That thing looks older than us combined.”

“Fine, I'll climb up first and I'll help you up. Deal?”

“Christ, fine, but you owe me the rest of the chocolate.” you watch him climb a crate, effortlessly reaching the ledge of the deck, hauling himself up quicker than you thought. “Show off.” You say under your breath.

“Heard that.” Hobie peeks down, “the chocolate's all yours, now get your arse up here.” he crouches down, hands at the ready to help you up.

Copying his movements, you jump up, he immediately grabs you. Putting your foot up in a crack for leverage and with Hobie's help, you manage to get up onto the deck.

You sit next to him, stretching your wrists.

“See, not too bad, right?” The wood creaks right as he says it. “Maybe we shouldn't sit or stand on the same floor board.” He stands up but before giving you space to lessen the strain on the old wood, he helps you up once again.

“Thanks, I can stand up on my own y’know.” Yet you still take his hand.

“I know, I just don't like it when you're on the ground, you always look like you're about to bite my ankles.”

You laugh and he smiles triumphantly. The sound echoes, it reminds Hobie of the days spent together on the revenge.

“That's true, It takes every bone in my body not to.”

He smiles lopsidedly, shaking his head at you. “I have to show this to you.” He exclaims excitedly. “Just be careful of where you step.”

You pause in your movements, “shit, alright.” testing the floorboards, you slowly clamber your way towards him. “How'd you even find this place? Did you go spelunking without me?”

“Found it on our second day, thought you wouldn't like to see a broken ship like this so soon.”

You smile softly at him, heart reaching towards him and he thinks he chose right.

Hobie opens a barrel, “Look at this, found it when I actually explored the place.”

You take a peek inside, hands leaning on the barrel. “Dried pomegranates? Look at that, your murder weapon.” flicking your eyes towards him, a teasing smile on your lips.

He huffs with a grin, hands placed on his hips. “So violent. You've been hanging around me too much eh, captain?”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that, Captain Y/N. It has a nice ring to it” chuckling, your hands instinctively inch over to his. He meets you halfway on the rim of the barrel, pinky intertwined with yours. “You wanna sleep separately from now on? Since we spend too much time together and all that.”

Hobie scoffs, sucking in his teeth. “Please, you can't sleep without me now.”

It's true, you've spoiled yourself with his warmth next to you every night.

Rolling your eyes, feigning offense, you change the subject. “What's with the pomegranates?”

“They planted it, using their own supplies.”

“Cute, they left a piece of themselves on the island.”

“More than that, because of ‘em we get to eat the fruit they planted. They helped us survive.”

You shake your head, “no, you helped us survive. You did all the work, Hobie.” Taking his hand, standing toe to toe with him, you stare at his eyes for too long that you drown in his eyes. “I never got to thank you for…everything. Thank you, captain, truly.”

His breath hitches in his throat. Warmth emanating from you, eyes sparkling under the sparse light and sand clinging to your hair, he feels himself carve your name on his skin; right next to hers, right next to the scar she left.

“I rendered the great Captain Hobie Brown speechless. I think I deserve some kind of medal for that—”

Hobie cups your cheeks with both hands, leaning in, the act has you shutting up immediately.

You hear wood cracking underneath your feet. You were above deck then a second later, you're groaning on the floor, laying on his chest, facing a skeleton.

“Oh fuck!” You flinch back, Hobie holds you in place with a hand on your waist. Straddling him, you look at the decaying skeleton on the floor. “Shit—” you notice the body under you. “Oh shit!” Holding his face, you roam your eyes for any visible injuries.

“You should write poetry, you have a way with words.” He says with a wince, peeking at you through his eyelashes, he pats your thigh and you get off his aching body.

“Are you alright?” you ask frantically, checking the back of his head for blood, thankfully you find none. Panic sets in your bones, crawling on all fours, you smack his leg.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?” Hobie sits up, with his legs moving, you can finally breathe.

“I thought your legs—” the wood creaked above, eyes widening at the barrel tethering on the edge, threatening to fall.

With Hobie still shaky from the fall, you grab him quickly, dragging him away from the falling object at the last minute before it collapses on both of you.

He grips your arm, staring at the space where you two were just in a second ago. The heavy barrel now occupies it, dried pomegranates spilling out from the split wood.

“Holy fuck.” He heaves.

You drop next to him, sliding down on the rotten walls. “Holy fuck is the right word for it.” he cranes his neck to look at you. “Death by pomegranates.���

You two watch your faces morph into a smile then into a grin and then to full blown laughter.

The loud noise scares the crabs away, dust flies around and there's splintered wood laying on the floors. Despite it all, you and Hobie continue to laugh. His head laying on your chest, hand around your middle and the vibrations from his chest making you laugh harder. With your hands around his torso, fingers splayed on his back, the both of you meld together in laughter.

“Mystery solved, that's how I could die by pomegranates. Take notes, Hobie.”

He inhales before leaning away, “you saved my arse.”

“Well you saved me too, we're even.”

Hobie thumps his head on the wall just like you have. His hand searches for yours while he stares at the skeleton left next to the barrel.

You find him first before he does, immediately weaving your fingers around his, you smile despite the near death experience.

“How would you do it?” He breaks the quiet.

“Do what?” you turn your head to look at him, he's calm, face relaxed.

“Kill me.”

“Hobie—” you groan.

“Humour me, love.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “poison probably.”

“Poison? Really?” Chuckling, he clasps your hand. Your stomach somersaults at the simple act.

“Mm-hmm, I figured that I can't possibly fight you, I can't shoot you so I'd do it in a subtle way. So, poison.”

“Fuckin' hell, I'll never let you cook.” Hobie turns his head towards the skeleton again like it would suddenly stand up and attack.

“You never let me cook anyway.”

“It's because you always burn it.”

“‘It's because you always burn it’” you mock his tone, “fuck off.”

Hobie guffaws which makes you laugh too.

The laughter subsides once again, he taps your thigh, leaving his warmth embedded in you.

“He has a nice hat,” groaning, Hobie stands up, stretching his back, giving you a glimpse of his skin.

You turn away, watching the pomegranate seeds tumble down. “Who?”

“This bloke.” He bends down, taking a tricorn hat off the dirty floor. “See? There's even a bird on it. Is that silver thread?”

“Let me see.” You stretch your hand up, he lifts you up with one tug.

“There, stitched around the bird.” Hobie points at the fading design.

You can barely make out the emblem, its beak barely there and wings almost indistinguishable. The silver thread weaves around it, the only fully visible thing.

Brushing the pads of your fingers around it, you tilt your head at Hobie. “I think it is, and it's incredibly filthy. Put it back, it's been here for more than twenty years or more.”

“How would you know?” He stares at you, perplexed.

“Judging from the decay,” you gesture around the skeleton, figuring it's too rude to point at it. “and adding the fact it's exposed to the elements, it's been here a long ass time.”

Hobie’s eyes brighten, “you fuckin' bookworm.”

Sticking your tongue at him, cheeks warm, “How'd you know the survivors got out of the island then?”

He shrugs, hands still holding the musty hat. “They left a note on top of a couple of graves just behind the ship.”

“Bullshit, now you're just making shit up.”

He chuckles, the sound similar to a giggle. “‘m not lyin’, cross my heart!”

“Sure, and I'm a selkie.” Sarcasm rolls off your tongue, “I'm going outside.” You begin to walk away, finding the space stifling from all the dust and death that surrounds it.

He quickly places the hat on top of your head and you jump away, flinging it off your head then throwing it at the perpetrator.

“What?” He laughs, “It looks better on you! He clearly doesn't need it anymore!” joking, he tries to put it on you again and you push him away as a warning.

Your smile betrays your true emotion. “Don't—”

“Alright” Hobie surrenders, placing the hat back where he found it, hands next to his head, he slyly inches towards you.

“Thank you, now can we go? High tide’s coming—”

He suddenly lunges for you, picking you up as you yelp and wiggle in his arms. His arm is underneath your knees, the other is around your torso, hands placed right above your ribs. You drown in him once again. Cackling, he walks towards the hole in the wall.

“Put me down!” you bunch up his shirt in your hands, “Hobie!”

“What? I'm taking you outside, it's clearly not safe here, love!” Your squirming has him holding onto you tighter. He grins widely, carefully squeezing out of the broken hull and into the light and fresh air.

Being this close to him, you notice the small dimples on his cheeks. Restraining yourself from poking it, you can't help but stare up at him like he's the sea himself. Deep and full of secrets, secrets that you're more than willing to dive for. A terrifying force on the surface but once you're underneath the tides, you see his true self, all the love he harbors for the people, all the hate that has made him who he is.

With his waves crashing against you, he smoothens your edges with his touch, if you're not careful, he'd erode you until you're nothing but a speck of sand.

Hands atop his shoulders, Hobie stops laughing the second he sees your eyes gleam over, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving half moons on his skin. He doesn't mind, he'd let you mark him if that's what you truly want.

“You alright?” He whispers, staring down at you like the sky above, beautiful and out of reach, a cloud soft and fleeting, stars that guide him in the night. A hurricane that has sunk ships. He thinks he's one of those ships.

You wonder if he used to look at her like this too. Your hold on him loosens.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You say, voice quivering. His face goes slack, eyebrows furrowed. “Like I'm her, you know I'm not her.”

You've struck him with lightning.

You leap off his arms, wobbling on your feet. He stretches his fingers, ghosting over the shape you've left.

“What do you mean?” He asks even though he's afraid of what you're going to say.

You smile bitterly. “I remind you of her. And I'm not her, Hobie.”

“I— where is this coming from?”

Sniffing and shaking your head, “nevermind” you begin to walk towards the exit.

“Y/N,” Hobie grabs your hand, letting go immediately when you flinch like he has burned you. “Not bloody nevermind, what's wrong?”

Gwen and Hobie's arguing finally escapes its cage, their angry words thrown at each other have finally eaten through the back of your head, revealing a wound that hasn't closed. Together with the numerous times he has called her name instead of yours, you collapse under all of it.

He loves her and not you.

You avoid the swirling greys, arms crossed, head down, staring at your worn out shoes. It's better this way you think, cut it off like a lame limb before it spreads to your heart. You're letting him go, and it pains your soul to do so.

“You only like me because of the circumstances.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hobie's not mad at you, he's angry at the conversation and the idea that you've dug up.

Does he? Does he only like you because of her? Did he only let you in at the start because of her? He only knows what he currently feels for you right now.

“You like me because of the circumstances! If we weren't stuck here together you wouldn't be.” A thunderstorm has broken through.

“After all this time together do you really think that?” He asks the question for you and for himself.

Your hands shake, tears almost spilling over. You don't let it, not in front of him. “You tolerate me.” twisting to face him, you regret the words you've thrown, but it has to be said or the relationship would've been built on lies and love for another. “You called me by her name when I fell and when you slept. I–I don't know, Hobie, I really don't know.”

There it is, the knife that was made to split skin and bleed. Instead of Hobie holding it, it's you. But he helps you bury the steel in his body, helping you twist it, helping you bleed him.

“You were there?” You nod, “I— you do remind me of her… it's uncanny sometimes.” You stifle a sob, head held up high. “And I don't fuckin' know, Y/N. All I know is I like you despite the bloody circumstances.”

Hobie closes his eyes, rubbing it with the heels of his palms. “I'll see you back at the island.” He leaves, and you just watch.

Falling to the ground, you hug your knees, letting it all crumble around you.

—

You haven't slept, bags under your eyes, headache pounding in your head, the sound of soil getting dug out behind you has become a comfort not a nuisance.

You haven't looked at the source of the sound since he started, letting his quiet curses and groans fill you with sadness and guilt. With the sun rising, and a new day coming, you sit up, palms raw from your clenched fists.

He tried to do something nice and you threw it back at him with venom.

Heading towards the shore, kneeling down, you let the salt wash over the crescent wounds. Wincing at the stinging pain, you lift your hands away from the water, lingering, watching the sun rise with heavy eyes. The humidity stifles you, choking you almost.

You clutch at your chest, imagining that your necklace is still hanging around your neck. Wishing for the comfort it brings, but the gold isn't there and the only comfort you have is now cold around you, avoiding your presence since yesterday. The closest thing you have is the pearl in your pocket, so you place your hand inside, rolling the smooth edges around your fingers, letting the cool surface ease you.

With a shaky sigh, you trudge towards the grove, grass grazing along your legs, you stand stiff at the sight.

Graves, he's digging graves.

Covered in dirt and sweat, Hobie digs a hole in the ground using a sharp stick. Lips wobbling, you let a tear fall before wiping it away.

“Hobie.” You call his name softly, voice breaking. He doesn't look up, you notice his arms shaking from fatigue. “Hobie.”

He pauses mid dig, “what?” Asking sharply, his eyes are dark, worse for wear. “Don't ask me to stop, Y/N, because I won't.”

“I was gonna ask if you needed help—want my help.”

Hobie tosses a stick at you, “this is the last one.”

Nodding, you grab the stick from the ground. Jumping down the hole, you wordlessly dig across him. The rough wood opens the scratches on your palms, dribbles of blood rolling down like the tears you've shed.

“Is this Finn's?” you ask with apprehension.

Nothing.

“Ned’s?”

Still nothing, he swallows thickly.

“Mine?”

Hobie stops, sighing, “Do you really think I can do that just because of yesterday?” Do you think he is a monster?

“No. I was trying to lift the mood, I realize now it's in poor taste.”

“I would have laughed if we weren't digging a grave.”

“Graveyard humour.” you say flatly, stabbing the ground, digging even when your palms bleed, even when your blood falls inside the grave.

Hobie exhales, eyes heavy with fatigue, dirt underneath his nails.

“You want to stay.” he says with certainty, cutting the uncomfortable silence.

“I do.”

“You won't survive here alone.”

“I know.”

“Then we'll come back here, once everything is said and done.” He looks at you, “we'll come back here.”

“Hobie—”

His eyes flicker down to your hands, the stick now red from your own hands. “You're bleedin’”

With concern he drops the makeshift shovel to cross the small distance, slowly taking your hands away from the tool. Your skin clings to it like the roots of a tree.

“It's fine.”

Hobie clutches your hands, palms above your own, trying to stop the bleeding. “No, it's not.” No, you're not fine.

“It's just from…everything. I'll clean them so they don't get infected.” you try to leave but he still holds you tight.

“I'll clean it.” Let me help, please. He screams inside his head. Just this once, let him stop the blood instead of the one bleeding you dry.

You glance at him, lines marring his face, grey eyes laid upon a bloodied field. Lips pursed into worry.

“Alright.”

—

The silence makes you squirm in your seat, watching the waves on the shore, you let him clean your hands, trust him to clean your wounds.

Hobie carefully wraps your hands with a tattered part of his shirt. He smells of the familiar herbs and soil, eyes glued to your bandaged hands, he finally speaks.

“She was killed in front of me.” His voice lacks the usual tone, grief weaved around the sentence. “When the black helion sailed next to us I knew that she was already gone.”

You look at him, it's the least you could do.

“She called for me while Mathias had his sword right next to her neck. And I cowered under the deck until she asked with a smile if she could see me.”

Listening with tears in your eyes, Hobie avoids yours.

“The second I showed myself…he cut off her head. At first I thought it was her last attempt at hurting me, seeing her dead. But after a while I… I think she wanted me to be the last thing she ever saw because she grinned like she used to when she saw me.”

He raises his head to meet your tearful eyes, “Mary Jane, that was her real name.” He chokes before inhaling deeply. “An orphan like me but she got the wrong end of the bloody stick.” He spits the words angrily. “She wanted an out, that's why she went to Mathias. We fought when she told me she was navy, but I knew…I think I just didn't want to believe it.”

Your heart breaks for him.

“I want to avenge her not just for MJ but for everyone else who got the wrong end of the bloody stick. Thirty of my men died that day, I can grieve for them everyday for the rest of my life but it wouldn't be enough. It will never be enough.”

Hobie lets your hands go softly on your lap.

“It's better to be angry than to wallow in myself. They wouldn't like that if I did so I let myself be angry for their sake.”

You reach for him, surprising himself, he welcomes your touch. Holding his face like you hold the entire world in your palms, you kiss the corner of his eyes softly, encouraging him to cry.

Laying your forehead against his, you whisper the words to him like a secret shared between two lovers.

“Let me be angry for you just this once, e–even if it's just for today, let me carry it for you. And I'll be angry for you if you ask. Just ask me, Hobie.”

“Just for a minute.” He whispers back.

“Alright, just for a minute.”

Hobie drops his head on your shoulder, hiding his face from the world, arms enclosed around your torso, you let him cry.

—

You help Hobie bury the empty graves. Pomegranates and colourful flowers on top of each one except for the three at the very back. You whisper goodbyes to each one, giving Finn's, Ned's and the crew he lost with extra attention and extra love.

You leave a bar of chocolate on top of Finn's grave, his name written on a piece of driftwood. ‘beloved friend’ you've written under his name then you realize it's not enough to describe him, so you write ‘best chef in the world’ next to it, laughing to yourself once you finish it.

“I think he'd like it” Hobie said whilst he places the folded sail on top of Ned’s empty grave. He wrote next to his name, ‘a shit lyricist but a good friend, beloved by everyone’ and you sobbed wetly at the words.

You just stare at the graves for the men you killed, imagining them rotting under it. They were once children, you thought, but you don't regret it, because you lived because of what you did, lived because of what you endured.

Just as you're leaving the thicket, giving the crew one last goodbye, you watch Hobie write her name and you leave, giving him privacy.

You wait for him patiently under the trees, right next to the raft full of supplies you've gathered. Eyes downturned, cheeks stained with tears, you hear the rustle of leaves from behind and you don't mention the missing necklace from his neck.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

No.

“Yes.”

Hobie goes around the raft to push, you copy him.

“Is that—?” He stops, hand above his eyebrows, shielding it from the sun. “Holy shit.”

You follow his line of sight, perplexed, until you see five figures waving wildly at you.

“It's them” Hobie looks at you with relief and you almost weep once again.

“It's them.”

A/N: Before you all get mad at me for Miguel, all will be revealed in the next chapter. Thank you for reading!

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Nine

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: The OG chasers make a group chat and the twister shifts towards a crowded town.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Katie and Tyler had their plans all laid out, the science behind them seemed solid enough. Cathy had practically kicked them out of her house but made them promise to come back before heading home. Meg’s heart twinged when she thought of her life in New Orleans but she didn’t dwell on the thought long, quickly falling asleep in the back seat as Meg and Tyler talked science. Nick’s ringtone is what pulled her back to the land of the living some time later.

“Hey, Hot Stuff. My cougar still purrin’?” The whole truck jerked, Meg assumed there was a pothole, her eyes barely open.

“You know it, Honey Buns. You know, since you’ve been gone so long I was thinking of getting her some training wheels, in case you forgot how to do your job.” 

“I’m better than you on your best day, I’ve got moves you ain’t ever seen,” The truck jerked again and Meg finally opened her eyes, Kate was looking back at her, eyebrows up at her hairline. She pointed at Tyler, who was blocked by the seat at the angle Meg was leaning against the window. “Hold on, babe. My boyfriend is trying to kill us.” Nick’s laughter rang in her ear.

“It’s Nick isn’t it?” Tyler sighed, chuckling to himself. “Sorry,”

“Who’s Nick?” 

“Her partner at work,” Tyler explained, Nick was still laughing his ass off.

“Nick, if you don’t stop laughing, I’m fixin’ to tell your wife,” She kicked the back of Tyler’s seat, making sure he heard that part. “About Tommy’s bachelor party.”

“And I’ll tell your man ‘bout the supply closet. Truce?” 

“Truce but it’s official, I ain’t ever lettin’ y’all meet, nuh uh, over my dead body.” Nick and Meg laughed, continuing to chat about all the workplace drama she had missed so far. 

“Can’t wait to have you back, Meg.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Meg couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. “Gotta go, Hot Stuff. Make sure you scrub that rig good tonight, you know she’s a dirty girl after a shift.” When she hung up, Meg sat up straight in the seat, catching a glimpse of Tyler’s pink cheeks in the rearview mirror.

“You always talk like that to colleagues, Mud Bug?” Meg snorted, knowing how out of place the flirting sounded to anyone who was outside of the field. Fire fighters, police, and medics all had a twisted sense of what was appropriate. Normal people had a line that they’d never cross, fearing being impolite or crude, the people in Meg’s line of work however crossed that line with glee. 

“Only the married ones,” She reached up over the seat, resting both hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “How much longer we got on the road?” 

“Not long,” He squeezed her hand, keeping the other on the wheel. “How’s Nick?” 

“He’s annoyin’ as ever, they assigned him a rookie EMT as a partner while I’m gone and let’s just say, it’s goin’ interestin’ for the both of ‘em.” 

When they pulled into the auto-garage, the rest of the Wranglers were standing there waiting for them, including the reporter.

“Ben, you stuck around,” Tyler greeted the man, hopping out of his truck. Meg rolled her eyes, heading straight for Lily, who pulled her into a hug.

“How’s everything going, darlin’?” Meg asked, “Saw y’all chased without us.” 

“Boone won’t stop moping that Tyler left him behind,” Lily snorted. “How are things with you and him?” Meg pulled away, blushing,

“Let’s just say, I’m wonderin’ what kind of rings you’re picking out for us.” Lily squealed with excitement and Meg had to clamp a hand over her mouth when everyone’s head turned her way. “Not all of Oklahoma needs to be in on this conversation.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll text you pictures later.” 

“Hey, y’all ready?” Dani called out to the group and everyone converged, Meg and Lily hanging towards the back of the group while Dani ran the salesman down the specifications of what they needed.

After settling on an aluminum trailer, the Wranglers drove out to a field and started working on preparing the barrels and rockets. 

“What are you doing over here, Meg?” Boone stuck the camera in her face, grinning like a dope.

“I’m checking all of my supplies, making sure everything’s ready to go in case there’s trouble.” 

“Y’all, meet Meg, she’s a badass paramedic that’s got T wrapped around her little finger,” Meg batted at him. Boone laughed, dancing away to go check on Lily and Cairo. She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. 

“Oh lordy, they done made a group chat.” 

Dad: You’re on the livestream!

Rabbit: Wrapped around your finger?

Haynes: Leave her alone Rabbit

Dad: When are y’all getting married?

Lawrence: She’s never getting married out of spite at this point

Meg chuckled at Lawrence’s text, appreciating the throwback to when she looked her Grandma Harding in the eye after being admonished for not “sitting like a lady” and how “no man wants to marry a wild animal” and said with all of the conviction in the world: I ain’t ever gettin’ married. 

Dad: Don’t say that

Joey: Yeah, shut up Lawrence

Haynes: Don’t be mean to him

Preacher: Be careful out there, Meggy

Meg: Always am, Preach <3

Mama: Wear your harness!!!!

Meg tucked her phone away, going to stand by Kate who was quietly snapping pictures.

“You ready to tame a tornado?” Meg rested a hand on the middle of Kate’s back, waiting until she stopped snapping photos tto bring her in for a hug.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. I’m real glad you’re here, Meg,” 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Not even New Orleans. The two of them stood there, hugging for a long while before breaking apart, both of them feeling the atmosphere start to change. 

“Let’s do this.” 

“Something’s not right,” Meg said just as Katie announced that the Doppler went dark. “I don’t like this.” The twisting feeling in her gut only got worse when Cairo went down. Kate was silent but Meg knew by the look on her face that she was thinking the same thing. 

The tornado came through the rain out of nowhere, flipping Javi’s StormPAR truck like a toy. 

“Javi!” Kate screamed, her hand flying back to hold Meg’s. “Tyler, we got to do something.” 

“On your left guys, it’s hitting something big!” Boone’s shout crackled over the radio and Meg let out a string of curse words that would make any sailor blush. 

“Shit,” 

“Oh my God,” They watched in horror as the storm barelled into some type of factory, becoming wrapped with fire.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Tyler quickly put the truck in drive, trying to flip them around. Meg squeezed her eyes shut, panic coursing through her veins. Was she going to die this time? Was the tornado finally going to claim what slipped out of grasp all those years ago? She vaguely heard Kate and Tyler squabbling over what to do about Javi, feeling the panic inside of her shift to an eerie calm, her training coming back to her like the second nature it was. 

“Get us out of here, Cowboy.” Tyler’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror before he high-tailed it out of there, following Javi’s truck which had somehow flipped back onto its wheels while her eyes had been shut, shouting at them to hold on. 

When light started breaking through the storm clouds again, Tyler called out on the radio to check in with the team and Meg felt herself relax a little with each confirmation of safety. 

“What was that?” Ben shouted somewhere in the background and Meg knew the answer in her soul. Tornadoes weren’t classified until after the fact, their strength determined by how much they destroyed, but she could feel it. They were running from the finger of God. She twisted in her seat, looking at the storm.

“It’s shifting course.” 

“Shit,” Kate groaned. “It’s heading straight for a town. It’s heading for El Reno,” Kate started spouting orders over the radio and Meg undid her harness, pulling her medical bag out from under the seat, throwing the strap over her shoulder so she wouldn’t have to waste time when they stopped. 

“You okay back there?” Tyler asked, reaching one hand up over his shoulder for her to squeeze.

“I’m okay, baby. Let’s get these people to safety.” That’s all he needed to hear, picking up speed as they drove past the StormPAR truck. 

The town was in chaos, everyone running around and screaming. They started shouting instructions, pushing vendors away from their tents and towards shelter. There was debris flying all around, the wicked wind making it hard to stay on their feet. 

“Go, go to the movie theater,” Meg guided people towards the theater. Her heart stopped when she heard Tyler scream.

“Tyler! Kate, help me.” Tyler was pinned beneath large debris, and even with all of her might, Meg knew she wasn’t strong enough to move it.

“Meg, you have to go.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” She grunted, shifting her feet for better leverage. “Kate, go inside.” 

“I’m not leaving you either,” Her best friend gritted out as they tried to lift the boards together. There was another large crack that sounded through the air, the scream of warping metal shooting a bolt of panic through her. 

“Javi?” Meg spotted him running towards them with a board that he wedged beneath the debris.

“C’mon, guys, lift!” They managed to pull Tyler out just as the water tower crashed down, thousands of gallons of water knocking them off of their feet. The rushed into the theater just in time to see the ceiling start to cave in and began to check for a basement. 

“This building isn’t built to withstand what’s coming,” Javi shouted over the roaring winds. At the sound of crashing and screaming, both of the men took off back towards the theater, leaving Kate and Meg to stare at the storm. Meg felt that calm again but it was different, it wasn’t the calm she felt under pressure when working on a critical patient. It was the calm she felt before she ran into an unsecured scene, knowing that she could die.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Meg asked, praying that she wasn’t.

“I swiped his keys,” Kate held up the keyring, offering it to her. The scrunchie Meg had lost a few days ago dangling from the jump ring.

“Then let’s go.” They ran for the truck.

If they survived, their friends and mamas were going to kill them. But if this worked, they would save a lot of people too. It had been a long time since Meg had driven anywhere near a tornado but she did her best to pretend that the shaking of the cab was nothing more than the death wobble of an ambulance going 100 mph on the freeway. 

“That way,” Kate pointed. Meg took a moment to strap into the harness, Tyler’s cologne overwhelming her senses, reminding her that this was a bad idea, then she shifted into gear. Meg didn’t need the directions Kate was shouting, she knew where the storm was going. And with a reckless kind of fearlessness, she pressed the gas pedal to the floor. 

“This truck ain’t made for this,” Meg shouted even though they both already knew it.” 

“Hope he’s got insurance,” Kate’s humor was still intact, even if her sanity wasn’t. The truck caught air going from the road to the grass, eliciting shrieks from the two women. Out of the corner of her eye, Meg saw Kate pull out her phone.

“My name’s Kate Carter and this is Meg Hardiing and today, we’re going to tame a tornado or die trying.” She locked her phone into the mount on the dash, capturing the whole cab with the camera.

“Right now there’s an EF-5 heading towards the town of El Reno,” Meg narrated. The recording was almost comforting, Jeb used to record them all the time, making them explain what they were doing. And just like when they were in the swimming pool, Meg felt like he was there with them. Kate must have felt it too, her voice shaking as she listed off the science of what they were going to do.

“If we don’t make it, we just want to say that we love you guys and mama, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too,” Meg shouted, swerving to avoid debris. “You know I love y’all but you know we have to do this.” She cursed, narrowly avoiding a large tree limb. “And Ty, I love you, and I really hope you’ve got full coverage on this baby.” 

“This is how you’re going to tell him you love him for the first time?” 

“Not really seeing any better options here, Katie. Shit!” She stomped the breaks, deploying the anchors as soon as they stopped. “Rockets?” 

“Rockets,” Kate fired them and they watched as the twisters sucked up the chemicals. Meg felt completely calm, watching the monster tornado moving closer.

“It’s beautiful,” She couldn’t help but whisper with childlike wonder. It was probably going to kill her but it really was beautiful.

“Let’s deploy together,” They hovered their fingers over the button. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” The mechanism went off without a hitch, the compound being pulled up by the storm around them.

“I love you, Katie my Lady.” 

“I love you too, Mud Bug.” They held hands and did nothing to stop what was coming because what else could they do? 

The trailer went first, lightening the weight of the truck enough for the force of the winds to move it despite the anchors. Meg’s eyes fluttered shut and her body relaxed in acceptance. Never before had the universe heard such silence in a truck being flipped like a quarter through the air, both women just waiting for the end. 

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 @closetspngirl @lostinwonderland314 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @winterassassin1804

Next Chapter

[seth-whumps]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 5

Wheezing - whumpee Morrigan - 978 words

CW: panic attacks

--

There is something in their lungs.

Morrigan is not programmed to panic. Unless it's on command, or necessary for the sake of appearance, they are not supposed to freak out. A level head and calm tones are perfect for dangerous situations. It is part of what keeps them away from the company–that they function as intended. 

However, they are panicking. 

It feels like… spiderwebs. Like something has built a nest in their artificial chest and all of the fans and cooling systems have become cluttered with the dust of its new resident. It feels like they are choking.

Which is why they're now standing in front of Jace's apartment, with the key he gave to them not even a week prior.

They knock. An error flashes onto their vision. It's a warning, low oxygen content. Soon enough, their cooling system are going to start complaining too. Overheating is a problem.

This whole thing is a problem, and the feeling of discomfort in their chest is making their hands shake as they push the key into the lock.

Morrigan has no god but the ones that put them together. But they pray to whatever is out there to let Jace be at home.

“Woah, hey, terminator, what's–Morrigan? What's wrong?” Jace's face drops the moment he sees them. Concern is a rare expression for him, when he's speaking to them in particular.

They must be genuinely panicking now. “I can't breathe.”

“What? Come here, sit down, is it a technical thing? Why did you come to me?”

They are guided to the bed and the next breath they take is a horribly mechanical wheezing thing. But they run yet another diagnosis and their lungs are undamaged and unencumbered and they don't understand, they don't–

“Hey–Morrigan, you're psyching yourself out, you gotta relax.”

“I'm not supposed to–” they try to say, and their voice is glitched and wrong and they can feel Jace flinching away from him. “Sorry, I don't–know what's wrong.”

“You're alright. I think you're freaking out, is there something else? Did you check for, I dunno, a virus or some shit? Or–”

“No. Not a virus. Just.”

There’s nothing left to do. There are no errors. No abnormalities within their lungs, no differences in their cooling systems, but they cannot breathe and the only person there to help is someone who hates them more than anything else in the world.

Something grabs their hands.

At first they flinch, but the grip is strong and unmoving and grounding. Jace’s. He’s there. They are not alone.

“I don’t know how you breathe but I’ll give it my best shot, in for four beats, I’ll count. Come on. Hey. Breathe in for four.”

They try to follow. It catches, and wheezes out all in one breath, in one horrid mechanical jerk.

“Again. Let’s try again. One, two, three, four, good, you’re doing great, now hold it for seven counts. It’s okay. It’s alright.”

They don’t make it to seven, it rushes out of their lungs, but something in their head is clearing, somehow, and Jace doesn’t seem afraid anymore. Just concerned.

Concerned for them. That’s… new.

“Let’s go again. Good. Hold for seven counts, then breathe out for eight. You’re doing fantastic.”

The cycle continues. Jace’s hands stay tight around theirs, his eyes level and calm, his voice soothing something inflamed deep in their chest. He… cares. Cares enough. Why does he care? Jace has no stake in this, could have just let them die, let them suffocate at his doorstep like a broken machine.

“--why?” they finally say, once his calm demeanor has shifted to something more like pride.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he grins, all freckles and dimples and sunshine. “Why what? Why couldn’t you breathe? I think it was a panic attack, I get ‘em sometimes. It’s fine. Counting helps.”

“Why are you helping me?” 

It stumbles out like the wheezing of their breath, disjointed and hardly human. Jace doesn’t look away. He seems… the crook of his eyebrows, downturning of his shoulders, slight flush on his cheeks, he seems ashamed. Guilty. “I wasn’t gonna let you suffer, Morrigan. I’m not that bad.”

“You hate me,” they say, simply. 

He huffs. “No, I don’t. I’m just… human. Messy. Complicated. I don’t like change, you’re a new thing, it’s complex. I’m sorry I made you think that.”

They try to see past the lie. To put together the pieces of the past, the glares, the imbalance, how Morrigan would push down their own posture to give him the head of the scene, to give him all of the power in play, but for all of their training, they cannot deny the truth. Jace Vela Journey is telling them the truth.

“I’m sorry I scare you,” Morrigan manages. “I don’t–I tried not to, but it’s not easy when people know what I am.”

“It’s fine. You just came into my house hyperventilating. Seems pretty human to me.”

Morrigan can’t help the eyebrow raise. That’s the first time anyone has referred to them as human-like outside of the purpose they’re built for, the tool they have to be. “If that’s human, I am sorry for every single one of you.”

Jace just laughs. “So are we, Morri. That’s pretty universal. You should take a break though, it’s not like you’re fine now. Just relax.”

“What did you call me?” 

“Uh.” Jace winces. “Morri? Like Morrigan shortened? If that’s not cool, I get it, I’ll go back to giving you robot nicknames–”

“It’s fine,” Morrigan is quick to reassure. “I don’t mind. It’s new, but not unwelcome.”

“Cool. Call me JJ, then?” 

It feels like a truce. A contract. When their alliance breaks a little bit from tenuousness and into something stronger. “Alright, JJ. Thank you.”

He grins, flashes a thumbs up. “Don’t mention it. Take your shoes off, stay a while.”

--

a teensy insight into their rocky relationship starting to fix itself. also origin of the nicknames!!!

[k1nky-fool]

Devil of the Crossroads

Part 4/?

Masterlist

Silco x OC

Pairing: M/F

Warnings: general violence warning, Pepper uses someone's trauma to get information out of them and it is just straight up evil, gun, Pepper is also nice to Marcus for some reason but he's still fucking scared of her.

Taglist: @pinkrose1422

-Silco-

He hadn't expected her to come back last night. He supposes that's what happens when one has somebody to get home to. Still, despite his initial assumption of how long it might take her to arrange her plans, she arrived the exact way he had expected her to. 

Pepper had walked into his office with leisurely steps, always as though this was her own empire. She placed a rather impressive bottle of whiskey on his desk and happily pushed it towards him. Silco couldn't help but stare at the splatter of blood across the corner of the expensive bottle. 

"You have a meeting tomorrow evening." She notified. 

That had surprised him. "He's alive?" 

"Reckon death woulda been too kind for him." Pepper was already making her way out of his office. "Give 'em hell, Silco." 

The door was left ajar as the only evidence of her night on the town was left on his desk. 

Silco couldn't help but wonder what exactly this was an omen of. 

To think it was destruction felt alarmist. Pepper had more to gain from keeping him involved. She didn't seem like the type to make a play for power. She only retaliated when she felt her own independence or safety were compromised. That feeling extended to her loyalties, and at this point, Silco could only pray he was lucky enough to be counted among them. 

No matter how he framed it, he couldn't pinpoint any angle that Pepper could be playing at. By all logic, she should have killed Finn. He knew Sevika would protest, but he also knew that if it came down to war between him and Pepper, he couldn't count on Sevika to take his side. 

The only thing this boiled down to was that he had trusted Pepper, and she had not betrayed him. Silco felt cheap for being so touched by her display of the bare minimum. Unfortunately, it was not a common display, especially not in his life. Still, he was sober enough to understand that the bare minimum was not a display of affection. Perhaps professional respect, and he was much more comfortable with that idea right now. 

He had her respect. Knowing her, it was funny to think it almost made him giddy. He couldn't keep it a secret forever that he admired her. Confidence from harsh experience, commitment to her family, courage that rivaled death, and comradery with those she suffered with. Pepper was everything he might have idolized in his days with the Children of Zaun. She would have made an inspirational leader back then. 

The respect he had for her was a feeling he remembered vividly. He also remembered how it felt to have it ripped away so quickly, and without hesitation. And yet, last night, Pepper showed him at the very least that she respected him enough to keep her word to him. 

Now, Silco needed to convince an opium gang leader to consider a change in profession. He knew the second Finn started walking up the stairs. The door opened and revealed the man that had been giving him more than enough trouble for the last few months. 

Finn stepped into the room, never breaking eyes away from Silco. 

"I gotta hand it to you. Sending your wildcard after me was a risky move." He must have an informant with one of the Chembarons. 

"Pepper is only as much of a risk as I trust her to be." Silco said. "I was ready to accept whatever she thought to be the correct course of action." 

"Even if it meant I'd be dead?" 

"I hope I won't be needing to repeat myself often with you." 

"What makes you so sure I wouldn't have gotten to her first? I could have turned her on you with just a little more money." 

Silco had to stop himself from cracking an amused smile. "You couldn't afford her." 

"So what do you want?" Finn finally asked. "You've been a thorn in my side for months, and when it comes to striking a deal, you send someone you weren't sure wouldn't bring back my head." 

So she did threaten his life. "I didn't approve of her methods. Pepper is as much of a wildcard to me as she is to you, but regardless, her methods have never let me down. Despite her threats, she got you here." 

"She dropped a corpse through my ceiling, and threatened my life. I didn't have much choice in this." Finn deadpanned. 

She's… creative. "And yet, you're alive." 

Finn all but growled. "What do you want?" 

"A deal." Silco states simply. "Shimmer is on track to corner the drug market. Either become a part of the operation, or stay out of my way." 

Finn laughed. "What do I get out of this arrangement? Because even with your precious wildcard, you can't afford war." 

"Refusal simply means you are standing in my way. I don't need primitive measures like war." 

"Then you'll be responsible for what happens to your people." Finn didn't waste any more time as he just left. Silco waited for a moment before making his way downstairs as well, however he found that Pepper had stopped Finn before he could escape. Jinx sat on the bar with Pepper, watching Finn carefully. 

"I don't give much of two shits if you can't get along with Silco, but walking out that door means I ain't listening to him anymore." Pepper warned. 

"You were listening to him before?" Finn laughed. 

"You're alive ain't 'ya?" Pepper asked. "Walk away and you'll wish you weren't." 

"I meant what I said, Pepper. You stay in power because you're the smartest person in the room, and that makes them scared of you." Finn reminded, gesturing to everyone in the bar. "Scared people burn places like this to the ground." 

Silco finally stepped forward. "You want the place to burn?" He asked. He shot Pepper a look and she snickered to herself like she was in on his joke. Silco took one of the lighters from the bar and tossed it to Finn. "You want us in ashes, do it yourself. I don't have patience for cowards." 

Finn laughed. "I wonder how your people feel about your patience." He gestured to the crowd of onlookers before he made his way out. 

It was silent for a moment after the door was slammed behind Finn. The crowd displayed varying looks of concern, anger, or fear. They had every right to feel that way, but Silco was no stranger to a sudden drop in morale. 

"All is going according to plan." He assured them, addressing the bar floor. "Your vigilance will not go unrewarded. For now, play your cards close to your chest, and don't deal without backup. If you or your comrades are hit by him, Sevika, Pepper, or I will have your back. Continue business as usual, but the safety of your comrades should be the priority. Protect each other as if your life depends on it, because it does." 

The tension between teams was eased with his declaration, and when he turned back, Pepper was observing him carefully. Silco gave her a respectful nod and returned upstairs to his office. 

It didn't take long for her to meet him there, but Silco didn't anticipate that she would be fuming as she slammed the door.

"So you're stupid?" Pepper accused without even making eye contact with him first. 

"Last I checked, I don't need your approval on how to run my ship." Silco reminded. 

"You don't need it, but if you were smart, you'd know that shit ain't gonna go well." She pointed out. "I get what you're trying to do, but Finn's smart enough to know what you want, and he ain't dumb enough to cross that rickety bridge." 

Silco's impatience was getting the better of him. "And if you're so smart, then what do you think the plan is?" 

"He starts war, and realizes there's a vacuum in the weapons trade." She began. "Finn takes up trafficking weapons, and you're set to push him out of the drug trade." 

"And you have a problem with this?" Silco asked. 

"Either you've lost your sticks, or you're fixin' to burn yourself down." Pepper scoffed. "Did you ever stop to consider why there's a vacuum in that particular trade?"

"When Vander died, Enforcers were pillaging everything. Because the Undercity was preparing for war, the first black market they took down was the weapons trade run by a man by the name of Tide." He explained. "Believe it or not, I do consider my actions before I take them." 

Pepper was glaring at him like he'd missed something big. "You don't know." She realized. 

That was far more concerning than it should be. "Don't know what?" 

"Enforcers couldn't shut down a black market if there was a button for it. Let alone in two weeks." She explained. "Whoever shut down Tide was someone from here."

If someone from the underground had shut Tide down, they'd have to be one of Vander's allies. And worse than that, if they'd managed to take down an entire weapons kingpin in only two weeks, then they'd have been a force of nature. 

"If Finn takes up Tide's old place, then this individual would likely see it as a threat. You think Finn knows this?" Silco reconsidered.

Pepper chuckled, "He definitely knows it wasn't Enforcers." 

"And what about you? Do you have any theories about who might have created this vacuum?" 

"The way I hear, it could have really only been a specific friend of Vander's." Pepper figured. 

"Benzo died the same night Vander did. And I made sure to account for all his allies at the time." Silco argued. It wasn't as if it were out of a place of pettiness, but he knew how thorough he had been before he even set up in The Last Drop. 

"You never met the creature, did 'ya?" 

"Creature? What- I certainly never-" Silco had to stop when he did remember someone. Back when he was taking over the last drop, there were a few people that stood their ground and had to be cleared out. 

One woman was far more dangerous than the rest, but he never saw her face. She wore a mask with five eyes on it and wielded hook swords. The title of creature rang a bell, but it wasn't one he had heard frequently. More like an urban legend from the sumps that had risen in his youth and disappeared as he aged.

But that woman came to mind as someone more than capable of tearing down a black market. She was the last one standing, and it would be an understatement to say that Silco saw her as a threat. He just figured that if she were going to continue her fight, she might have shown up again in the last three months. But the creature was mysteriously absent from the various problems Silco had faced. 

"Creature?" A much smaller voice had overheard the two of them talking. Jinx had been eavesdropping from outside the door. "Do you mean Minute?" 

"She has a name?" Pepper asked. "When I was growing up, they didn't have names." 

"Minute isn't a creature anymore- or she wasn't for a while." Jinx explained. "She retired years ago… Vander and her were together." 

Vander has a widow? Silco had eyes on Vander for years, how did he not know about this? The only possibility was that his spy was compromised, but there was nothing he could do about that now. 

It made sense that someone so close to Vander would have prioritized avoiding war with Piltover. And someone as ruthless as a creature likely wouldn’t be worried about causing the current power void by violent means. Silco’s biggest problem as of now would be locating and stopping Minute before she got to Finn. He didn’t know where was hiding, but he had an idea on who might know how to find her. Or at the very least, Minute would take it personally if he threatened them.

All Silco really knew about her was that she knew Vander and his children well enough that she was willing to risk her life to ensure Jinx was alright. If there was anybody that Minute definitely knew, it'd be her. 

"Are you armed, Pepper?" Silco asked. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She scoffed.

"If you are, then you're coming with me." 

"Two knives and a gun." Pepper clarified. "Where are we going?" 

"Piltover. There’s someone that might give us a lead on where Minute might be hiding.” He said, getting up to head out. 

“Wait!” Jinx stopped him. “You’re not gonna hurt Devoan, are you?” 

Jinx had never objected like this before. Maybe she was closer with the woman than he thought. When she heard Vander had died, her immediate response was to make sure Jinx was alright. And if she wasn’t, Devoan was prepared to kill him or die trying. 

Silco had never hesitated like this before, but something in his chest was almost pained as Jinx stood in his way, nearly pleading with him not to hurt her friend. “I- I promise that Devoan won’t be permanently harmed by me or Pepper.” 

Jinx looked unsure for a moment, but Pepper wasn't far. "Is she a friend of yours, Jinx?" She sat down on her knees so that she had to look up at Jinx.

She took a moment, but nodded. 

"Then she'll be alright." Pepper assured. "Is Minute your friend too?" 

Jinx gave some thought to that answer too, but shook her head. "Minute isn't my friend anymore." 

"Then I hope we make sense to you. We just need Minute to think we're causing problems for Devoan so we don't have to risk our lives looking for her." She explained. "I don't wanna hurt anybody that ain't hurting me." 

Jinx scanned Pepper's face for anything that suggested a lie. She'd done that to Silco on occasion when she was scared he was about to betray her in some way. He hoped that one day she'd feel safe enough that she'd never be scared of such a concept from him. 

A beat of silence went by as Jinx came to her decision. "I trust you, Pepper." She concluded. "Keep him in line." 

Pepper couldn't help but laugh a little. "I can do that for you." She stood up, and began to head out. "Alright Silco, lead the way." 

He couldn't help but respect her courage to stand up to the both of them when her friend might have been in danger. Silco gently fixed her bangs out of her eyes as he passed her. She'd been quite shy when he first took her in. Understandably, the only thing she was open about was how she blamed herself for the explosion at the cannery. He could really only do his best to assure her that nobody here held her in any disdain because of that fire. Silco was proud of how far she’d come in such a short amount of time. 

He found Pepper again at the bottom of the stairs and they started towards the bridge. “Is there a reason you’re bringing me instead of Sevi?” 

“I want to see your technique up close.” He told her, even if it was only part of the truth. 

“Half of my technique is Sevi.” Pepper pointed out. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you ain’t got half the physical intimidation that she does.” 

“I am aware that I don’t have her stature, but I am confident that she will be plenty intimidated by dangerous people in her home.” he vouched. 

“And you know where to find her?” 

“I know who does.” Silco assured her. “Do you have any warrants for your arrest?”  

"No, but if you're fixing to threaten the hell outta Marcus, then I'll be sticking around outside." She warned. "Don't think he'll be too keen on seeing me since the last time he saw my face, he was near about suffering a heart attack." 

"Perfect. I want you in there, but let me do the talking. Better that he's anxious about what you're doing." 

"So your plan is to walk into an Enforcer station and threaten the Sheriff?"

"I'm in charge, not an idiot." Silco took the small offense. "It's the middle of the day at the end of the week. He's definitely drinking." 

The two of them came up on a bar that was known for its relationship to the Enforcer Corps. His eyes on Marcus were definitely right about Marcus' habits. Silco signaled to Pepper to get on the other side of Marcus while he approached him for conversation. 

As soon as Marcus saw Silco approach his booth, he groaned and held his head in his hand. "What do you want?" 

Silco slid into the booth and Pepper sat at the other end, blocking his escape, but appearing distracted with her fingernails. "I'm looking for a girl. You know where I can find her." 

"Isn't that what your brothels are for?" Marcus sneered. "I doubt you need some poor Piltovan girl for your shady work." 

"She isn't a topsider. At the very least she's an outsider to your city." Silco said. 

Marcus froze almost immediately. "Whatever you need Devoan for, I can take the fall for it. She doesn't need to be caught up in this." 

This Devoan seems to have a lot of friends. "She's already caught up, and you can't accomplish half of what I need from her." 

"She's just a kid." Marcus defended. "She's a good kid that doesn't need your trouble. And she's too smart to fall for whatever bullshit you're throwing at her." 

"Then you should have nothing to fear." Silco chuckled. "Either you tell me where the girl is, or I'm sure there's someone else you'd rather I visit." 

Marcus' hands shook, but he gripped the side of his glass to hide it. 

"She won't be hurt." Pepper interrupted before Marcus could say anything, and his attention was turned to her. "I've already given my word to someone else that she won't see any harm. We're trying to draw someone else out. So long as they think Devoan is threatened, they'll be pissed at us." 

"Then you two are a lot dumber than I thought." Marcus replied. "There's only one person that would care that much about Devoan. And she's scarier than the both of you joining forces." 

"Let us worry about why we want to draw her out." Silco sent a glare to Pepper. "Tell us where to find the girl." 

Marcus still hesitated, but he faced Pepper. "Devoan's an academy student. Studies stars or whatever. She'll be getting home in about an hour. She recently moved to the apartment complex by the north astronomy tower. Unit seven-twelve." 

Pepper looked to Silco like that wasn't so difficult and she stood up to leave. He sent one more glare toward Marcus before following her. After a few blocks, he pulled her aside into an alley with a harsh hand, only to be met with a knife at his side. 

"You knew damn well that threatening him wasn't getting the job done." Pepper immediately argued. 

"I don't appreciate being steamrolled in front of a lapdog, Pepper." He hissed. 

"Then don't embarrass yourself." Pepper took the knife away. "You want Devoan to think her life is in danger, but you can't hurt her like you can Marcus. We have to make her think she's in danger enough for Minute to buy it. So, you've gotta learn a different approach." 

"Whatever happened to letting me do the talking?" Silco asked.

"Well, turns out you need to figure out more than one way to talk." She accused and continued walking. 

"I have an entire payroll of people who are more than willing to do as I say. You think I persuaded them all with only threats and coin?" 

"I think when it comes to a gentler touch, you fall flat on your face." Pepper elaborated as they entered the apartment building.

Seven-twelve was predictably unit 12 on the seventh floor, but it became clear that whoever lived here was someone that knew people might be coming after them. The lock was definitely not standard for the building. 

Pepper was quick to pull out the gun, ready to use the butt as a hammer, but Silco caught her wrist before she swung. She scoffed when he pulled out some thin picking tools. 

"So much for the delicate touch." Silco jabbed and she playfully smacked the back of his head. 

The lock was an intricate mechanism. If Devoan had made friends across both cities, then it made sense that she likely knew any of the inventors that the academy was known for and had one of them build a custom lock for her. But, Silco was always good with his hands. 

The door was open and the two stepped into the apartment. She wasn't home yet, as promised and the two of them only needed to wait for her. 

Pepper busied herself with exploring the apartment and familiarizing herself with Devoan before she arrived. "Marcus was right, she studies stars and whatnot, but from what I'm getting here, she's also working on some mechanical project with a man by the name of Viktor." 

"Anything more personal?" He asks. 

"Judging by what's most obvious, her work is as personal as it get-" Pepper stopped when she came upon a framed photograph. "Scratch that. Devoan was close with the late Sheriff Grayson." 

Pepper turned the frame to Silco to show a photo of a rather excited, perhaps seventeen year old girl, holding a first place ribbon from the academy with the late sheriff wrapping an arm around her shoulder. 

Another photo on her desk was of the head of the council, Heimerdinger. The same girl, still somewhat young, sat beside his standing form in front of a telescope. 

"She makes powerful friends." Silco easily deduced. Between the creature, Sheriff Marcus, the late Sheriff Grayson, Councilor Heimerdinger, and the inventor, Viktor, who likely designed her lock, she was a well connected woman. 

"I might almost think she wasn't even from downtown." Pepper looked closely at a different photo. 

This one was more recent, and had the girl, a few years older with much longer hair, braided down her back, candidly photographed crowded over a table with a massive star map. A scrawny man stood at the other end, supported by a cane, while the two were frozen in an animated conversation.

"I know this girl." Pepper realized. "Few weeks ago, she came to The Last Drop and took a bite out of Sevi's paycheck in a card game." 

"She came to threaten me when Vander died. She was ready to make an attempt on my life if Jinx turned up dead." He explained. 

Pepper couldn't help but be impressed. "Marcus wasn't lying, she must be a smart little minx." 

"Marcus is paying me compliments now?" Devoan had slipped in without either of them noticing. "The world must be coming to an end." 

Devoan shut the door behind her, but left the door unlocked. "Forgive us the intrusion, Devoan." Silco gave a respectful nod. "We needed some information that it seems only you have." 

"The only reason you're alive is because Jinx isn't done with you yet." Devoan didn't look impressed. "And if I don't like what you're about to say, I might decide that she'll have to live with it." 

"Ever the amusing performance." Silco chuckled and sat himself down in one of the cushy chairs in her living room. "I'm looking for a friend of yours." 

"Don't have many of those." Her eyes stayed on him. 

He scowled for a moment, letting her get uneasy. "This will go much smoother if you're honest with me, Devoan."

Pepper was idling around, slowly making her way behind Devoan, but the younger girl was too smart for that. She pulled a knife off the kitchenette counter. "Right there is fine, babe." She warned.

Pepper put her hands up in surrender and sauntered backwards with a smug smile pulling her lips. 

"We're looking for the creature." He finally stated. "Rumor has it that you know where to find her." 

She was certainly far more concerned as soon as that title was said. "The creatures are dead as far as I've heard." 

Silco stood and slowly approached her. "What did I say about being honest?" Devoan stood up to him, which shouldn't have been a surprise, but it had been a long time since someone had this much confidence in his presence. 

"If you were allowed to torture me for the information, then we wouldn't be having this conversation." She deduced. "Based on that evidence alone, I'd say that you're trying very hard not to disappoint Jinx." 

Marcus was right, she's a lot smarter than he initially gave her credit for. 

"You have many friends, Devoan." Silco reiterated. "I've already had a hand in the death of one late Sheriff, Grayson-"

"You keep her name out of your filthy mouth." She spat. 

"And yet you push me to seek out – what was his name? Viktor?" 

Devoan ground her teeth as she watched him carefully. Her hand shook in rage, but ever so slowly, she set the knife back down on the counter. 

Silco had her. 

Until a sharp ache hit his face and he had to take a brief second to register that she had indeed thrown a punch. Devoan didn't bother to make a run for it or even move, so he held a hand up to stop Pepper from attacking her as he regained his composure. 

He didn't think she had it in her. "Got that out of your system now?" 

"If you're offering, then no." She answered honestly and Pepper snickered to herself. 

"I'm glad you find it amusing, Pepper." He accused. 

"You more than deserved that one." Pepper defended. "Now, if you're done getting thrown around, I could always give it a shot." 

Silco gave her the go-ahead and Pepper meandered around the kitchenette. "Sorry about him, Devoan. I reckon he don't know the first thing about you."

"You're walking a thin pipe." She deadpanned. "You're a sump bunny, aren't you?" 

"Guilty as charged." Pepper giggled. "But that's a very specific name for my folk. I reckon you come from the Entrisol layer." She took a longer look at Devoan than necessary. "Near around Emberflit Alley's where slang like that comes from." 

"Guilty as charged." Devoan echoed as Pepper opened her ice box and searched around for something. "If you're trying to get me to trust you, then your boyfriend already ruined that." 

"I wouldn't dream of you trusting me after that mess." Pepper agreed, pulling out a handful of ice and wrapping it in a washcloth before making her way across Devoan's position to meet Silco.

Pepper pulled out one of the dining chairs by the table and sat Silco down, taking his hand and placing the ice in it and holding it up to his swelling cheek. Unfortunately, Devoan was left handed. 

"Now, stop me if I'm wrong, but I'd like to go through what I know about you, Devoan." Pepper suggested while Devoan's eyes narrowed. 

Pepper continued despite her non-verbal warning. "You're a smart girl, you've connected yourself well. I reckon more than half the council knows your name, and if they don't, then they know another friend of yours. But your more interesting friends live across the river." 

Devoan didn't stop her when given a beat to say something.

"You see, I spent a lot of time in The Sumps, and I've heard some tales, tall and short, about famous bounty hunters that went by the title of creature." She elaborated. "Now, I don't have much reason to suspect that you knew her, but then again, I heard a story about one creature that retired and settled down after a hunt, taking up the name Minute."

Of course Devoan knew exactly what Pepper was getting at, but Silco would be lying if he said he was completely enlightened to what she was referencing.

"You might know a little something about her. Since that retirement happened near about five years ago, right when a certain astronomer was arriving in Piltover, with enough untraceable coin to buy her way into the academy." Pepper sauntered up to Devoan with empty hands. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" 

"Careful, or you'll get what he's having." Devoan warned. 

"I wouldn't dream of it, sugar. However I do find it a curious coincidence that an astronomer is named after a star." Pepper stepped back. "But if you can't tell me anything about why the creature might have retired, then maybe I could ask our mutual friend Mystique about where all your coin came from. I reckon she’d have a lot to say that you don’t want this Viktor fellow to know about." 

Devoan's expression changed from the defiant glare she'd show him, to a trembling mess as she slumped against the counter behind her. She still appeared angry, but with no strength to fuel herself.

"Now sugar, I'll ask again." Pepper stepped closer like a friend, but Devoan was far from trusting. "Where would we find Minute?" 

"I don't know…" Devoan answered in a trembling voice, but at least it was honest. "I don't find her, she finds me if we need to talk." 

"Then how do you approach her with a request to talk?" Pepper asked. 

"I don't." That was a lie, but Silco could tell that Pepper wasn't interested in getting the truth. "Mita isn't someone I contact regularly. She just shows up when she needs to tell me something." 

That might have very well been true, but it seems Pepper was satisfied with what she got. "Thank you very much, Devoan. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" 

She didn't respond, but just let Silco and Pepper leave. All that was left of them in her apartment was the rag full of ice left melting on the table. 

"That should be more than efficient to draw her out." Silco noted as they made their way back toward the bridge. "How did you know?" 

"How did I know what?" 

"How did you know that would work?" He clarified. 

Pepper didn't look very ecstatic that he was asking. "Well… Mystique owns a brothel that's a valuable source of information. But five years ago, she hired a creature to investigate a human trafficking ring that was abducting some of her girls. The same time Minute finished the job and retired, was the month before Devoan enrolled at the academy." 

"A girl with no traceable history, several thousand in unaccounted gold, and a connection to Sheriff Grayson." Silco figured. 

"Exactly. And Mystique was willing to tell me everything for a price before I even moved to The Lanes." Pepper explained. "I wanted to get a full picture of the situation before I came here, but I apologize if that's a hair too much." 

“I did my research on you as well after your stunt. However, I would have to say, your search was likely far more fruitful than mine.” He shrugged it off. 

After a few blocks into the boundary markets, Pepper stopped at one of the stalls that sold some kind of mechanized smoking utensils, but she wasn’t there to shop as she pulled Silco aside. “We’re being followed.” 

“Do you know by whom?” 

“The good news is that our plan worked.” She said, “The bad news is that neither of us are skilled enough to fight a creature and live to tell the tale.” 

“She’d know we’re headed back to The Last Drop, so she’d likely ambush us in a more deserted area.” He reasoned.

“There’s no way to avoid it.” Pepper warned. “No matter what way we take, we’re fucked.” 

“No need for melodrama, Pepper.” he chastised. “Follow my lead, and she’ll follow us into a trap.” 

“You just want me to trust you?” 

A smile pulled the side of his lips. “As if that’s the worst you’ve done for me.” 

Pepper forced herself not to laugh. “Fine. Lead the way.” 

The streets were busy enough to keep Minute away from them until they reached the warehouse. It looked abandoned from the outside, which would hopefully make their unwelcome tail enter thinking the two of them were at least mostly alone. 

Silco knew it would take a moment for his ace to get ready to face the creature as he pulled the lever against the wall, but at the very least, he was good at stalling.

“What now? Do we just wai-”

Glass shattered overhead and cables that hung from the rafters provided an easy landing for the woman they’d been looking to lure out. 

“I haven’t had the pleasure of a proper meeting with you yet, Minute.” Silco introduced. “Though, I believe your young topsider friend called you Mita.” 

She didn’t say anything, though Silco did notice that her mask had five eyes instead of four like how Pepper described. From the chin to the lowest right eye, there was a red marking that looked to have been dried blood that stained the white mask.

Her faceless mask gave no expression, but it understandably unsettled him. The unfeeling mask gave the impression she was only here to kill him, but she decided against it. Minute placed her swords on her back and undid the clasp on her mask that allowed her to remove the helmet. 

Suddenly, Silco did recognize her, but not by her face or mask. He remembered a woman that had joined the Children of Zaun in their raid on the bridge. She used hook swords, and she had been the only one to break through to Piltover. Yet, she came back through the smoke as everyone had realized that the attack was all for naught. And worse than that, he remembered hiring the four-eyed creature just over five years ago, when he’d lost track of a problem that made an attempt on Vander’s life. 

That had to have been where the two met. She would have waited for his renegade employee to attack Vander, where she more than likely heroically saved his life. Whatever he might have to say about his former brother in arms, this was a woman that had Vander’s type written all over her. 

“So you do remember me.” She noted. “Impressive considering this is the first you’ve ever seen my face.” 

“I remember your gait more than any mask you’ve worn.” Silco recalled, noting the scars that littered her exposed arms, shoulders, and back. “And I know you’d remember the man that took everything you hold dear. Out of everyone that has the honor of calling you a connection, I believe Devoan is the last one to lose their safety to me.” 

He was hoping to find something in her expression that would tell him she had more than just the young astronomer left, but Minute was practiced in keeping secrets. But that did tell him that there likely was someone else she was protecting. 

“You’re smart. I'm sure you know that you’re the reason I met Vander.” Minute pointed out. “Perhaps I just regret that I never told him, even as honest as I was about everything else. But maybe you just weren’t all that important.” 

“Then why aren’t you here to kill me?” He asked. 

Minute took slow steps up to meet him. She was just vaguely taller than him, but her stature made him feel easily a meter shorter. 

“Because I can’t kill Powder to show you what you did to me.” Minute threatened. “But maybe she’s close enough.” 

There wasn’t even enough time for him to fully process what she said before she’d drawn her swords again and held Pepper hostage in front of him. Panic set into his throat, but there was nothing he could do. The attack had definitely startled Pepper and she didn’t have the strength to fight against someone nearly twice her size. 

“Silco, don’t.” Pepper commanded. 

"What do you want?" Silco asked. 

"I don't want anything from you." Minute spat. 

"I don't have much patience for liars." He was beginning to feel like he was repeating himself. "If you didn't want something, then you'd have killed her by now." 

"Maybe I just want your attention." Minute chuckled. "I don't expect to win this war, but I can make sure you never recover." 

"You want me to know exactly who my enemy is." He realized. "Rather childish, don't you think?" 

"You killed my husband. I'm not concerned with your opinions." Minute jabbed.

Husband? Silco doubted they were legally married, since neither of them would show their face topside long enough to actually work it out, but undercity marriages were closer to intimate declarations of trust as opposed to a legal document. But even as he tried to work out her statement, Silco realized that he no longer needed to stall.

Pepper made eye contact with him for just a split second, and he knew she'd noticed. 

Silco lucked his teeth and took a few steps back. "What I did to Vander was a long time coming, creature. Perhaps you'd like to meet what did him in."

Minute released Pepper to block an incoming attack from the berserker behind her. Shimmer addicts were becoming more common in the warehouses and factories. Promising to feed their addiction was a powerful bargaining tool when the time came to defend his territory. 

Silco pulling Pepper away shoved her off balance and directly into him, but she was out of the line of fire. 

Minute was a much better fighter than Vander was. He had died even after taking the shimmer and killing Deckard, but Minute was more skilled and much faster than him by quite a large margin. 

What surprised him was that despite Vander's favor of her, Minute fought nothing like a pacifist. The intent to kill was in every swing of her blades, and in a very short amount of time, his muscle was losing the fight. 

"Time to go." Silco whispered to Pepper and she followed his lead as they escaped. 

Even as they made their way to The Last Drop, Minute had finished her fight and was giving chase once again. Silco didn't even notice the second Pepper pulled her gun, but the shot startled him and made his ears ring. 

Minute was hit in her side, but she disappeared into an alley as Pepper was frozen in place, holding her gun up. 

"Will that kill her?" He asked. 

"Probably not. Judging by the amount of scars on her arms and back, she knows her way around a wound." Pepper stood there frozen in place for a silent moment while Silco tried to ease the ringing in his ears. “Good luck getting her to show up again.”

“I don’t need luck.” Silco finally got the ringing in his ears to quiet down. “What we need now is bait.”

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 15 - No More Secrets

Chapter summary: Beach Bear finally gets to go home. Dook tells Beach Bear a secret. A/N:

these guys make me insane dude. I need them to kiss so bad but I do not control the pacing (I absolutely control the pacing, but this is a slowburn so the pace must remain at Agonizingly Slow) this one's kinda two smaller chapter ideas I had that I mushed together, but I think they work together well! id love to know y'all's thoughts- and I am now taking bets on how many chapters u guys think are left until they finally kiss ',:] enjoy the pining lol

Chapter word count: 1,963 <- Chapter 14 - Chapter 16 -> Read it on AO3!

Dook stands at the front desk of the hospital, Beach Bear sitting right next to him in a wheelchair. Dook glances over toward him– he seemed a little emasculated at the idea of being stuck in a wheelchair until his knee heals, but he didn't protest. Still, he avoids eye contact with Dook as he checks him out of the hospital.

Dook places the money they got from Mini on the counter. "This should be enough," he tells the receptionist. She counts the bills, and to his surprise, hands him back some change.

"D'you have means of getting home?" She asks.

"Shit," Beach Bear pipes up. "Oh, shit. My car."

"What about it?" Dook asks.

"Where is it?" Beach Bear asks, not to either of them in particular.

"You'd have to call your insurance," the receptionist says. "They all have their own preferred junkyards they sell to–"

"Sell?" Beach Bear nearly stands up. "They can't do that!"

"Your car was totaled," she tells him monotonously. "Insurance takes those totaled cars and sells 'em to junkyards. You can probably buy it back for cheap if you're quick."

"No, that's– That's my car," he says, "I shouldn't have to pay to have it back. That's my car."

"I can't do anything for you from here," she says. She rips a receipt from the printer by her computer and hands it to Dook, still keeping eye contact with Beach Bear. "Take it up with your insurance. Have a nice day."

"This is insane," Beach Bear says as Dook circles around the back of his wheelchair to take him out of the hospital. "This is ridiculous. I cannot believe this."

"I don't get it," Dook says as they exit onto the street. "If your car got totaled, what's the point in tryin' to get it back? It's probably gonna cost the same amount to fix it as it would to just get a new car."

"That's not the point," Beach Bear insists. "It's– that's my car."

Dook stares out into the street, watching cars pass by. He figured the car was sentimental to Beach Bear– he vaguely remembers him saying he's had it a long time– but even Dook would let something that close to him go, if it was totally destroyed.

"...Is there somethin' you're not tellin' me?" He asks slowly.

"I–" Beach Bear grows quiet for a moment. Then, finally, "That car was a gift from my dad. It was his, and he'd kinda left it to go to waste for a while. When he gave it to me, we made a thing out of fixing it together. It's... stupid, but..." He lowers his head. "It felt like the only time he respected me. Felt like the only time he saw me as his son."

"...Beach Bear, I–"

"I know," he says, then sniffs. Dook can't see his face from here. "I've been doing this touchy-feely stuff too much lately." He chuckles. "I just... we gotta get that car back."

"Even if it's totaled?"

"Even if it's totaled."

"...Might hurt to see it totaled," Dook suggests.

"Probably will," Beach Bear replies.

"You think..." Dook starts. This is a stupid idea. Beach Bear's going to say no. "You think, when we get it back, maybe you'd wanna... fix it together? Make new good memories about it?"

Beach Bear's head is still low. Then, he makes a noise– Dook isn't sure if he's laughing or crying. "Yeah," he says finally. "Yeah, that sounds really fun."

"I, uh, I don't know nothin' about cars or anything, though," Dook says, backpedaling a bit.

"That's fine," Beach Bear says. "My dad taught me everything I know about cars. I can teach you."

"...Yeah," Dook says, and he can't help the smile that forms on his face.

"...So, uh," Beach Bear says. "How are we gettin' home?"

"Oh," Dook says. "You think Fatz can drive us?"

"Probably," Beach Bear says. "You wanna go call him?"

"Oh," Dook says again. "Yeah. You got a quarter?"

"You have the money, Dook."

"Oh. Yeah. Be right back."

-–—–-

Getting home is a bit of a challenge, but they finally make it back and into Beach Bear's room. Dook helps him into bed, and Beach Bear only seems to relax then.

"Better?" Dook asks.

"Much better," he says, closing his eyes peacefully.

Dook watches him do this, unsure if he just wants to sleep now or not. He shifts awkwardly, debating if he should speak up, until: "Should I, uh, get outta your hair, or...?"

"Nah," Beach Bear says. He doesn't open his eyes, but waves his hand noncommittally at him. "I don't mind you being here. I like the company."

"Okay." Beach Bear hasn't wanted to be alone since he got hurt. Even in the few days between the accident and him being released, he seemed reluctant to let Dook go home at the end of the day. Dook isn't sure why that is. Still, he stays as he was asked, taking the time to wander around the bedroom.

He finds himself returning to Beach Bear's desk. It's unchanged since the last time either of them were here, and he finds his eye drawn again to the pictures hanging above it. An old picture of Beach Bear, laughing. Something indescribable twinges in Dook upon seeing this.

"Beach Bear?" He says, not pulling his eyes from the picture.

"Yeah?" Beach Bear says back.

"...Can we promise, no more secrets between us?"

Beach Bear pauses, then chuckles. "Wasn't I cute back then?" He says. Dook glances over finally– Beach Bear's opened his eyes now, propped up slightly as he watches Dook look at the picture of him.

"I, uh–"

"I think I was, like, seventeen in that one," Beach Bear continues. "That was when I'd just started living the guy life. I was planning on running away from home."

Dook looks back at the image. "Sounds rough..."

"It was the first time I was excited about my life," Beach Bear says. It's not clear if he's still talking to Dook. "It was the first time I felt like... I had somethin' to live for, y'know? Being myself."

When Dook looks back over, Beach Bear's returned to his relaxed position in the bed. He's tired... There's no other reason he'd be talking so plainly to him now. Dook looks to the desk once more, noticing a book he hadn't before. Not thinking much about it, he picks it up.

"Mm, that's my book," Beach Bear mutters. "You can read it if you want."

Dook eyes it, noticing a bookmark slid between its pages. "You're in the middle of it," he says.

"Start from there, then," Beach Bear tells him. "Read it to me."

Dook looks at him. "I–" What is Beach Bear getting at? Why does he want him to do it? It's not like he can't do it himself... it must be something about Dook, then. "I'm... not really a good reader," he says.

"That's fine," Beach Bear insists. "I just wanna hear your voice." A compliment. And a really sweet one, at that. Dook finds himself even more at a loss for motive now, somehow. Beach Bear's just tired, he tells himself. Tired, and maybe a bit delirious. That's the only explanation. That's the only reason he could be treating him like this.

He pulls over the chair from the desk and brings it to the side of the bed. Sitting down, he opens the book... the font is smaller than he was hoping it'd be. He really isn't good at reading aloud– he stutters enough in regular conversation, having to focus on words he wouldn't use normally just makes it worse. But this is what Beach Bear wants him to do, and... Well, he can't say no to him. He'll just try his best, and take it slow.

The book is a fantasy story, set in a world of elves and knights. The plot is about a group of adventurers on a quest to find a magical item... Dook finds himself somewhat entranced by the story, even if it takes him some time to catch up on what the plot is actually about. This kind of story is a little nerdy... it's amusing to think of Beach Bear being interested in it.

Eventually, Dook reaches the end of the chapter, and stops. "That's the end of the chapter," he says, "do you want me to keep goin'?"

Beach Bear doesn't respond.

"Beach Bear?" Dook turns to him. Beach Bear is asleep. His head is slightly turned toward Dook, as if he really was paying attention before he fell asleep. He seems peaceful.

"...Beach Bear?" Dook calls again, quieter now. He isn't sure what the goal is. He whispers hoping not to wake him, but he still calls his name in the hopes he might respond. Maybe he's just making sure he's truly alone.

Beach Bear sighs in his sleep contentedly. He seems to be much happier now that he's home. Dook's seen him at what's most likely his worst these last few days– stressed, tired, in pain– but never once did Beach Bear fully lose his ability to see the bright side of things. He was always just... happy to be alive. Grateful that it wasn't worse. Glad Dook's been there with him. He's not even upset with him about the accident. He hasn't even mentioned the money since their first conversation after it all happened... He's taking it so easily.

Some part of Dook finds that enviable. He would've caved by now, himself. He would've given in to the worst of himself and just... given up. Resigned himself to the misfortune. No point in fighting for a good mood when it feels like life itself just wants you beaten down. That's how Beach Bear found him. Given up. As the time passes, Dook just grows more and more embarrassed of that fact. Beach Bear met him at his worst. He isn't sure why he even saw anything in him that night. He's not fully convinced it wasn't pity that brought him to take Dook home. He's always been a runt, anyway.

Now, though...? Dook focuses on Beach Bear's face as he rests. If he was awake, it'd feel like a stupid topic to bring up. Beach Bear would say something about how he just wanted to do something kind, no reason past that. Maybe he means it. Maybe he's just a kind person. Maybe he just likes Dook. Of course he likes him. That's what stings. He likes him. Platonically.

Dook sighs. Beach Bear's left one hand extended slightly toward the side of the bed. It'd be so easy to hold it... it's not like they haven't held hands before, but Dook still cherishes it every time. Still, he wouldn't dare doing it now and risk waking him up. He just looks at him. Always looking. Never touching, never making a move. He could never. He would never dare. He feels cowardly.

Beach Bear wouldn't want him to feel this way, he thinks. If his feelings were toward anyone else, Dook might even confide in Beach Bear about them. He'd encourage Dook to be brave, even if the idea of something as simple as holding hands made him completely freeze up. He wants to be brave, he realizes. He wants to take some risk... especially now, in the safety of knowing nothing he does will be remembered by Beach Bear. The thought terrifies him... but it excites him too. A risk only to himself– to admit it out loud, just between him and a version of Beach Bear that will never know.

"Beach Bear," he whispers, one more confirmation that he truly is asleep. He'll never know. He can never know. "I love you."

[purple-babygirl]

you got me reading all your works from 4 AM till 6 AM today, and I have zero regrets. And I’d do it all again. I truly love all of your works, especially those that has anything to do with Bucky.

Now all I can think about is Bucky’s reaction and care to finding out that his Little got an injury—one that she been hiding from him. Omg the fluff.

Anyway, have a great day!

Pairing: Poly!SamBucky x little!f!reader

Word count: 3,381 (i know i know...)

Warnings: polyamory, ddlg dynamics, excessive, probably unnecessary, fluff no one asked for.

A/N: Nonnie, I'm honored💜. Thank you so much for sending me this, you've warmed my heart to no extent💜💜. It is everything when you tell me you like what I share with you. You're so amazing and I hope I'll always deliver and never disappoint you ily:"💜 I know you only said Bucky but I couldn't help but get Papa!Sam in there too, hope you're not mad at me?:" Please enjoy xx.

~~

don't hide

"Oh, we forgot the toilet paper!" Sam groaned, "I'll go get it. Wait here, sugar, okay? Eyes on the bags and don't move. Papa will be right back," he said before marching back to the big store's entrance, leaving her by the car with all the grocery bags.

Papa said to wait there. Papa warned her that the ground was snowy and slippery and dangerous. Papa told her not to move, she reminded herself but she just couldn't help it. She had to grab that orange.

A bag had fallen on its side out of nowhere and an orange had fallen out and rolled away. She needed to get it before Papa came back or else he'd know she wasn't watching the bags and was zoned out instead. She'd be careful and she'd take the fruit and come back to where Papa left her and he wouldn't even know it. She'd take small steps and she'd be quick. Plus, she was a big girl; she'd never slip, right?

Wrong.

Before she could catch herself, her foot was slipping, her arms were flailing and she was on her back on the cold, hard icy ground. She squeaked, pain shooting through her spine like an electric shock. Through panic and pain, she got hold of the stray fruit, managing to get herself up and back to where she was supposed to be standing the whole time before Sam made his way back to her.

"There we go," Sam sighed, setting the bag with the toilet paper beside the others and opening the car.

She was silent, biting down on her lip to stifle the pained whimpers ready to leave her mouth.

"You ready to go, sugar?" He asked her as he stacked the last bag in the car, slamming the back shut.

"Yes, papa." She nodded, the bones supporting her neck hurting as she tried her best not to cry when she slightly bent to get in the backseat.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't. Daddy and Papa were taking her sledding in the park the next day and she couldn't even be good and obey one single thing she was told. They'd definitely cancel the whole day and make her stay home if they knew what she did. And not only that but she'd surely be punished for not listening and not being careful enough. She could take it. She could play, sled and smile through the pain. Plus, she was a big girl; she could handle a little fall, right?

Wrong.

Her back was killing her. She tried not to hiss when Papa put her seat belt on for her. She had no idea how she'd make it through the day.

~

"Show daddy what you got him, sugar!" Sam encouraged after leaving the bag of goods on the table for her, walking to the kitchen to drop a bunch of grocery bags

She carefully pulled a chair out and slowly climbed on top, rummaging through the bag until she found a packet of Bucky's favourite cookies. She'd pointed at them as soon as she saw them at the store and didn't stop until Papa got them down the high shelf and into the cart.

Bucky's appreciative smile lit up the room, "oh, for me?"

"Yes, daddy. Got 'em for you." She nodded timidly, playing with her sleeve.

He accepted the cookies with a giddy grin and went to store them in place in the kitchen. She giggled, proud she was the reason Daddy was smiling.

"Thank you, love." Before she could stop him, Bucky was hugging her tight, metal arm pressing on her back to pull her body to his.

The chocked whimper she let out didn't go unnoticed by the super soldier.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky raised a worried brow, flesh hand rubbing circles on her back as a sort of habit.

"Yes, daddy. I'm fine," she lied, held-in tears burning the back of her eyes. She just needed him to stop touching her spine.

"You sure?"

"Sugar, go wash your hands we just got back from outside," Sam reminded, saving her from repeating the lie to Bucky.

"Yes, papa." Her socked feet padded on the floor as she left for the bathroom.

Bucky shrugged it off for now, walking outside to help Sam with the bags. She probably wanted more candy than she was allowed and Sam refused or something of that sort.

~

When she was done washing her hands, she tiptoed to her bedroom and did her best to redress herself fast. Her discoloured skin looked awful in the mirror. She couldn't let her daddies see the huge bruise that was forming on her back, innocently praying it'd disappear over night so they could still go sledding the next morning.

"You changed by yourself?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows upon seeing her in a comfier outfit. He knew for a fact Bucky didn't help her because he was washing strawberries in the sink behind him.

"Yes, papa," she muttered hesitantly, fearing his reaction.

"Why didn't you call me or daddy, baby? We could've helped."

"Papa and daddy are busy, didn' wanna bother you," she lied again.

"Doll, we'll never be too busy to look after our favourite girl. You can always ask for daddy and papa's help, okay?" Bucky assured her gently.

"Yes, dada."

"Good girl, here," Bucky grinned, offering her a strawberry.

"Tank you." She took it with a smile and hummed after the first bite, making Sam chuckle.

"You did a good job dressing yourself, sugar. We're proud of you." Sam let his hand cradle the small of her back so he could kiss her forehead.

She whimpered again, biting her lip hard and closing her eyes.

"Everything alright, baby?"

"Yes, papa. Strawberry tastes so good."

"Okay, baby. Go play in your room till me and daddy get lunch ready."

"Yes, papa." She pecked Sam's cheek before leaving the kitchen.

"She's lying," Bucky told his husband as soon as she got inside her playroom.

"I know."

~

She spent the rest of the morning suffering in silence. Her back hurt whenever it came in contact with anything. She couldn't lean forward, or backward. She couldn't even lay down for nap time, crying into her pillow as soon as her daddies left the room.

She'd try not to whine when Daddy's palm touched her upper back. She couldn't enjoy watching her favourite show on TV because she was too busy trying not to pull away when Papa hugged her to his chest while she was on his lap.

As the hours passed, she was in so much pain it was showing all over her face. Sam and Bucky were worried that she wasn't saying anything. They knew something was wrong they just didn't know what. They failed to notice her features scrunching up in pain whenever they touched her because, in their defense, they were always touching her. So they couldn't really pinpoint the problem.

"There you go, sugar." Sam handed her a plastic cup, half full of strawberry milk he'd just whipped in the blender for her.

"Thank you, papa." She smiled gratefully, stretching her neck to kiss his cheek, her face twisting in pain as a result.

"Doll, are you sure you're okay? Do you have a tummy ache? Do you feel sick?" Bucky questioned softly, all while rubbing circles on her upper back.

"No, dada. I'm okay," she continued to lie, sipping from her straw quickly so maybe Bucky would stop and let her drink in peace.

Bucky looked to Sam in defeat and the latter just shrugged at him helplessly.

"Love, me and papa are worried there's something you're not telling us." Bucky's hand caressed further down to the small of her back and she couldn't help but wince, dropping her cup.

Strawberry milk covered her chest and lap and she couldn't hold it in anymore. She started crying and apologizing, thinking there was no way out of punishment for her now. They were going to find out.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, sugar. It was an accident. It's okay." Sam tried to soothe her but her cries only grew louder as she let all the tears out.

Her body hurt so bad and it didn't help that Bucky was patting her back to calm her coughs and sobs.

"Come with me, doll. Let's get you cleaned up." She cried harder at Bucky's statement, knowing they were going to see her back now.

"No, daddy, please. Don't wanna." She shook her head, choking on her tears. She made no effort to go to his open arms like she would.

It broke Bucky's heart a tiny bit. He started to think he'd done something; that she was like that all day because of him for some reason.

"But baby, you're soaked in milk. You can't stay like that!" Sam didn't wait for her refusal, slipping his arms under her legs and carrying her body off the couch.

"No, no, papa, please." Her tears wet Sam's sweater, her thrashing hurting her muscles even more.

"Stop crying, sugar. Tell me what's wrong," Sam said, sitting down on the closed toilet lid with her on his lap.

She remained silent, her fist rubbing at her teary eye and her lips trembling.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me and daddy, baby?" Sam tried again, making brief eye contact with a worried Bucky preparing a bath.

"Wanna shower by myself," she muttered when her sobs died out, tears still leaving her red eyes.

"You know we can't let you do that, doll," Bucky sighed.

"B-But I dressed by myself," she cried more, leaning on Sam's chest.

"This is different, baby." He kissed her forehead.

"Why don't you want our help, doll? What is it?"

She was quiet again, making both men sigh.

"Alright, love, hands up," Bucky instructed but she shook her head.

"Come on now, be good. We gotta get you cleaned up, baby, or you're gonna be all sticky," Sam told her, fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater.

She gave up fighting; her back was sore and she knew her daddies were going to get her in that bath no matter what. She closed her eyes when the sweater was pulled over her head, preparing herself for Daddy's reaction.

"My goodness, doll! What happened?!" Bucky exclaimed in worry and she started sobbing again.

"What is it?"

"Look at her back, it's messed up!" Bucky gestured to the huge purple and blue bruise, whispering the last part of his sentence.

"Oh my god! How did you get this?!" Sam's eyes widened as he questioned her and she only cried more.

It broke their heart. She was in so much pain all morning and they had no idea. How could they be so inattentive?

"Hey, baby, no, it's alright. We just wanna know how you got hurt, sugar. You're not in trouble," Sam reassured, pushing her hair out of her face while Bucky ever so tenderly examined her bruises.

"I'm sorry, papa. I'm so sorry," she cried in his chest, "I- I didn' listen when you- told me to stay I- the orange fell out an- and I wanted to get it and I fell d-down an' hurt m-myself." She tried to explain between hiccups as Sam bit down in realization and regret.

"Aw, sugar," Sam sighed, feeling guilt gnaw at him for leaving her alone by the car. What was he thinking? How could he leave her all by herself like that? She was just a little baby!

"Papa's sorry, baby. Papa's so sorry he left you standing alone and went back inside." Sam apologized, kissing away the tears soaking her cheeks while she sniffled and hiccuped.

"Don't cry, doll. We're not sad with you. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky cooed, his thumb wiping the tears down her chin and neck.

"B-But I was bad." She looked at Bucky with teary eyes.

"No, doll, you weren't bad. You were just tryna help Papa because you're a good girl." Bucky kissed her temple, holding her forehead to his cheek while he looked at Sam.

The man was zoned out, probably beating himself up somewhere in his mind.

"Let's just get you in the tub for now and then we can let the doctor take a look at your back, okay?"

"What if he gives me shots?"

"He's not gonna give you shots, doll. Only something to apply to your bruise, nothing painful or scary." Bucky promised, easing her off Sam's lap to get the rest of her clothes off.

Sam scratched his head before abruptly standing from the toilet seat, "I'll go start dinner."

Bucky sighed when his husband left the bathroom. He knew Sam was feeling guilty for their baby getting hurt and while he wanted to assure him it wasn't his fault, he had to tend to her for the time being.

"There you go, doll." Bucky carefully lowered her in the tub, letting the warm, soaped water soothe the ache in her muscles.

"Dada, can you come too?" She asked quietly, noiseless tears still leaving her eyes.

Bucky stripped himself at once, cautiously getting behind her in the tub before pressing her back to his chest. She sighed as he held her to him, Bucky's chest being much comfier than the solid ceramic of the tub.

"Is papa mad at me?" She asked Bucky, her voice trembling and breaking as she continued to cry.

"No, no, doll. Papa's not mad at you one bit, he's just worried about you," Bucky said, his hands rubbing softly on her tummy as he kissed her shoulder.

"Then why'd he leave?" Her voice was squishing Bucky's heart and he just wanted both his babies to feel better.

"He's preparing dinner for you, baby. Papa loves you; he could never be mad at you." Bucky turned her head so she could face him and wiped her tears away.

"We love you, doll. No one is mad at you. Daddy and Papa only want you to be okay. We just wanna keep you safe," Bucky told her warmly and she nodded, wrapping her arms around Bucky's neck and burrowing her face in the crook of it.

~

After her bath, Bucky got out first, telling her to wait while he got towels. But instead his legs took him to Sam.

"I feel like shit for not noticing too," Bucky muttered behind his spouse.

"It's not only that- what are you doing strolling around the house in just a towel after a warm bath?! Bucky, you'll catch a cold-" Sam scolded when he turned around and saw Bucky undressed.

Bucky put his mouth on Sam's in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

"I'm gonna be fine and so is she," Bucky promised against Sam's lips, cupping his cheek.

"I left her alone, Buck. She got hurt because of me."

"No, love, no. It was an accident. It could've happened anywhere any time."

"I still shouldn't have left her."

"Then we know not to do it again. Don't beat yourself up over it and distance yourself like that."

"I'm not distancing myself."

"Sam, she thinks you're sad with her. Please, love," Bucky begged, his thumb swiping over Sam's skin until the latter nodded with a sigh.

"Now go put on something."

"I thought you liked me naked," Bucky teased.

"Go." Sam lightly slapped his rear.

"I'm going." Bucky laughed, kissing Sam's lips one last time before retreating to the bathroom.

~

Bucky dressed her in something warm and told her to wait a minute while he got ready so he could take her to the doctor's. She peaked out of her room, hearing onions sizzling in the kitchen. She walked over to Sam as he poured tomato juice and the pot hissed.

"Papa? Are you mad?" She tugged at Sam's sleeve, red-rimmed eyes staring up at the man.

Sam sighed, turning off the stove. He took her hand in his and walked out of the kitchen with her, sitting down on the couch and motioning for her to sit on his lap.

"Why didn't you say anything, sugar?" Sam asked, putting her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, papa," shs teared up, "I thought you'd be mad at me and think I'm bad and not wanna take me sledding no more."

"Baby, I'd never get mad at you for getting hurt. Ever." Sam reassured her, not letting his eyes get glossy with the tears he held in.

"If you get hurt me and papa will take care of you no matter what, doll. That's the only consequence. Do you understand me, love?" Bucky added, walking out of the bedroom with a jacket in hand.

"Yes, daddy." She nodded, throwing herself in Bucky's arms, "I'm sorry. I love you."

"We love you too, doll." Bucky kissed her head, careful not to hug or squeeze her too tight.

"Papa, will you come to the doctor wimme and daddy?" She asked Sam sweetly, leaning on his chest after leaving Bucky's hold.

"Of course, sugar." Sam's thumb stroked her cheek softly.

"And we can still go sledding in the park tomorrow?"

"Oh no, baby, we can't go tomorrow."

"But you said you weren't mad." Her lip jutted out in a pout.

"I'm not mad, baby, I promise, but you're hurt."

"But the doctor is gonna fix it," she whined

"He's a doctor, sugar, not a wizard!" Sam chuckled

"Because wizards don't exist."

"They do exist, but that's not the point," Sam argued and Bucky playfully rolled his eyes behind her back.

"But papa-"

"No buts, doll. We'll go as soon as you get better and we'll stay as long as you want, yeah?"

"Yes, daddy." She complied, knowing they were right; her back was achy and stinging.

~

As promised the doctor gave her no needles, only a prescription of a cream for her back and a painkiller.

"Daddy, I don't wanna," she whimpered as Bucky lifted her PJs up. She was afraid of the pain she would feel once Bucky started massaging the substance onto her skin.

"I'm gonna be gentle, doll. I promise."

"It's gonna hurt," she complained more.

"Here, sugar, hold papa's hands and daddy will be done before you know it." Sam opened his palms and she immediately put her smaller hands on top.

"There you go, all set. We're ready, daddy," Sam told Bucky, squeezing her hands and smiling comfortingly at her.

She gave half a smile back, blushing as she felt Bucky ever so softly lay kisses down her hurt back.

Sam chuckled, kissing the back of her hand. She slightly hissed when Bucky touched her skin with the cold cream, his pointer and middle spreading it around on the bruises.

"Anywhere else hurts, love?"

"Right here, daddy." She pointed to the back of her neck.

Before Bucky could, Sam tilted himself forward and kissed from the ends of her hair down to where her neck met her back. She giggled, Sam's lips tickling her. The man chuckled again, pecking her cheek.

"Papa?" She held his hands in hers.

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you." She wasn't unaware of how he blamed himself for her little accident and she wanted to let him know it was alright; she was alright.

"I love you more, sugar." Sam smiled, relieved, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Starting to feel seriously left out over here," Bucky said, wiping his fingers on a tissue.

Sam rolled his eyes at his needy-for-attention husband before cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead as well, sending blood to his cheeks.

"I love you, daddy," she whispered, squeezing Bucky's right hand.

"I love you more, doll." Bucky echoed his partner, kissing her hand.

For the whole week, Papa and Daddy let her sleep on top of their chests, seeing as cuddling and spooning weren't options and they still wanted to be close. She'd alternate between the men as the nights passed.

Eventually, they did go sledding in the park when she healed, three days in a row. She loved it and she laughed so much till her cheeks hurt. She could handle a little fall after all; she could handle anything as long as Sam and Bucky were there to take care of her through it.

[hanazuma-inactive]

Excuse me, just want to drop my request with bottom Yo Shindo.

Mreader caught shindo masturbating to reader clothes and reader find it amusing looking at shindo flustered face. Reader then ask him what he imagining then tell him to do what he want to do, so he start sucking on mreader nipple while Reader pumping his member until he climax and Reader asked him if he want something else and he want Reader to fill him up.

Have a good day :D

distracted, (nsfw) yo shindo x top!reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: nipple sucking, degrading + praising combo, spit as lube, rough sex, creampie, barely any prep, rough sex

a/n: god this man is so fucking fine both as a top and a bottom MMM! sorry if this was a bit short btw :/ i'm kind of bad at controlling word counts sometimes i overwrite and sometimes i don't write nearly enough. also wtf is this request it's so hot anon marry me??/j

_____

"shindoo, i'm home~" you cooed while taking off your shoes, returning from a long day at work. 

"shindo? you there honey?" you heard no response so you went into the bedroom to see if your husband was just asleep. 

what you didn't expect was something that would push all your other plans for tonight right down the drain and focus on something else instead.

your dear spouse shindo, was playing with himself in your hoodie that you usually wore at home. his eyes were closed and didn't notice that someone had already opened his bedroom door because he was too into it, thinking about all the dirty things he wanted to do with you while pleasuring himself in your hoodie. 

"mmghm~ fuck…y/n…you smell so good, fuck me more…" 

"oh? is that what you want?" you said, arms crossed leaning on the door. 

shindo opened his eyes suddenly and covered himself with the blanket out of surprise. 

"woah! y-y/n?! aren't you suppose to be at work!" shindo glanced over at the clock to see he lost track of the time. 

"looks like someone got a little horny while i was gone hm?"

"ahaha yah...m-maybe just a little." he replied nervously.

"if you were so into it...why don't you tell me what you were thinking about? doing all those dirty things while wearing my clothes. did you want my scent all over you darling?" 

shindo blushed and looked away, you've always been dominant but not like this. especially since you caught him red handed, he found it hard to open his mouth. 

"i was just thinking about...how i could suck on your nipples as you jack me off…later maybe you could fuck me too if you want…" shindo whispered, still facing away from you. 

you leaned in closer, to a point where you could breathe in his ear to make him even more flustered than he already is. 

"what's that? i couldn't fucking hear you, you're gonna have to be louder. so tell me, what do you want me to do?" 

all the hair on his skin stood up and you could feel him getting weaker from you words. 

"y/n…i-i wanna suck on your nipples…please." 

"see? wasn't so hard was it?" you took off your dress shirt and opened your fly, making shindo blush again. you got up close to him and gave him a smirk before allowing him to make his fantasies come true. 

"go on, suck em, you asked for it." 

without waiting he applied his lips onto your chest. starting with the right one and playing with the left one with his other hand. even though you were the one getting serviced he probably felt better than you. you could hear his tiny moans coming out everytime he sucked on your nipples. you started to stroke his dark and soft hair while he was at it, slowly gaining a rhythm. 

while enjoying this you noticed something hard hitting your knee. shindo's cock was covered by your hoodie but it was already leaking and hard as a rock. you wanted to hear his moans more clearly and see his expression that you missed earlier when he was doing it by himself, so you grabbed onto his cock and started to stroke it at a medium pace and he continued to work on your nipples. 

he squealed a little, unable to handle the pleasure with only your hand on his cock. but it only motivated him to suck on your nipples. he was so focused on them to the point where he didn't even realize he was leaking so much pre and about to cum. and of course he did after getting his cock stroked again and and again, leaving his cum all over your hand and even some spilling onto your knees. 

"wow...look at you? cumming so much from just a handjob?" 

"i-it's not enough y/n...please, i want more!" 

"well you gotta be clear then, what do you want me to do to you?" you said, holding his chin

"i want you to fuck me...and fill me up, inside, please y/n." 

he was already doing such a good job and you didn't want to wait any longer either, so you agreed to his request and pushed him over, back against the bed with you towered over him. 

"don't regret what you just said then, pretty boy."

you spat on your dick and spread it by stroking your cock. not giving anytime for shindo to prep, you were gonna go in and you were gonna make him feel it. instead of putting it slowly like you usually do you just slammed your cock into him. reaching deep inside him and past his prostate, making him tilt his head back from the pleasure. immediately after, you started moving fast, not giving him anytime to adjust to your fast rhythm. 

"ah~ ah! y/n, s-slow down oh fuck…you're so big-" shindo said, barely being able to make out the words. 

"too fucking bad...you asked for this didn't you? you begged like the good little slut you are and i'll give it to you like the good little slut you wanted to be!" you said once again slamming your cock hard deep inside him. 

shindo came again and again as you fucked him to the point where he passed out. but that wasn't going to stop you, you weren't going to stop until you're satisfied. after an hour or so, you were finally content. you looked at the mess you made and your lovely and cute husband's ass filled with you cum, asleep on the bed. being too tired from work you simply laid down next to him and held him in your arms as you rested on your pillow. 

"goodnight darling, you're gonna hurt in the morning because of this…" 

[deathbymeow]

Chandelier

This is my first Dickinette fic and song fic.

This started off as a funny idea form @boldlyanxious followed by a silly conversation that lead to creating this.

I wanted to gift this to @boldlyanxious because without her this wouldn't exist. Not only did she give me the idea but listened to me talk about it for the last week and found all my spelling mistakes.  💝

The song is Chandelier by Sia

Warning : some sexual references

Party girls don’t get hurt

Can’t feel anything, when will I learn?

I push it down, push it down.

Marinette struggled to open her eyes. Everything was too bright and the noise from the busy street down below seemed ten times louder than normal. She rolled over and yelped as she fell onto the floor. This wasn’t her bedroom. This wasn’t even her apartment. Where the hell was she?

“Oh, look sleeping beauty is finally awake.” Steph snickered. “Coffee?”

Marinette rubbed her face then stood up and stretched. “Do you even have to ask?” She felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Every muscle protested as she walked over to her blonde friends.

“Never thought I’d see the day that miss goody two shoes partied harder than me.” Chloe said pulling the chair out for Marinette and putting a plate of pancakes on the table.

“Ease up on her babe. If anyone deserves to let her hair down, it’s Mari and you know it.”

Steph grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and pulled her down for a kiss.

“I’ve gotta go. I have a thing.” Marinette looked away from the girls and downed her coffee before standing up.

“Hey, you don’t have to run off. There’s no judgment here.” Steph grabbed her hand. “It’s been a year since you defeated your enemy. Six months since you broke up with Adrien. This is the first time in your life you’ve been able to actually let go.”

Marinette felt the but coming on and she had to force herself not to run out the door. She wasn’t used to letting her emotions run wild and it had been her downfall with Adrien. His carefree attitude drove her crazy in the end, but she hadn’t been able to detach herself from the troubled relationship. Instead, she’d pushed him away till he couldn’t take it anymore.

She missed him but in the same breath she didn’t. Emotions were not her strong point, so she’d decided to finally let go. Maybe she’d taken it a step to fare though. She worked on her commissions during the day and partied most nights.

A few hours’ sleep if that, then repeat.

Her friends were starting to worry but they were torn between letting her finally live and making her slow down before she did something she regrated. The Kwami seemed divide as well. Half of them were happy she was finally living like a normal 20 something year old and the other half were on her case about responsibilities.

“Thanks for not letting me go home with that guy.” She couldn’t remember his name and she didn’t care to be honest. “I’ve got a meeting and commissions to get through today, so I have to go.” She gave Steph’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and smiled at the girls.

“Get some rest too M but don’t forget we have the gala tonight.” Steph called out as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “We’ll pick you up at 7pm.”

“Sure, I’ll see you guys later.”

One, two, three, one, two, three

One, two, three, one, two, three

One, two, three, one, two, three

Throw ‘em back ‘til I lose count.

The masquerade gala was as expected. Rich people flirting their wealth around like it was a competition. Everyone loved the dark blue dress and mask she wore. One of her many creations she hand crafted in hopes to get her name out there. So far, the sleepless nights were paying off and she’d nearly run out of business cards.

The woman wanted to look like her and the old men didn’t seem to know how to keep their hands off of her, even with their wives standing right there. The wives seemed preoccupied, to distracted by all the young bachelors running around anyway. Marinette was left wondering if the masks had made people forget their inhibitions.

After two hours of Steph dragging her around to different groups of people, she excused herself and headed for the bar. She ignored the questioning look the bartender threw her when she ordered three tequila shots and a vodka and lemonade.

She’d already downed the first two shots before she heard the conversation down the other end of the bar.

“Tt, Father has obviously forgotten Dick’s obsession with chandeliers.” The shorter of the three said.

“It’s like he’s asking for trouble so how do we get Dickie bird to do his thing.” The tallest this time, who was ruggedly handsome with a white streak in the front of his dark messy hair.

“You both know B is going to be pissed if one of us ruins this event. That said Dick totally set me up last time so as long as it doesn’t get back to me, I’m in.” The third guy was dressed in an expensive suit and looked the part except for his shoes. Black and white converse of all things gave away the fact he’d probably been forced to attend.

Marinette downed her last shot and turned to the men. “And here I was thinking this was going to be a boring night.” She smiled wickedly at them. “I must say I’m intrigued. Is there some type of entertainment I don’t know about?”

The tallest of the three smiled at her and walked over. He leaned on the bar next to her and she couldn’t help but notice how his muscles flexed under the fabric of his suit. “If it’s entertainment you’re after doll I’ll be happy to help you out.”

“Tt, as subtle as a freight train as always Todd.”

“Shut it, Demon spawn.”

“Hi, I’m Tim.” The guy in the converse extended his hand passed his tall friend. Marinette took it and smiled warmly at him. “And these are my brothers Jason and Damian. Now if you’re finished embarrassing yourself Jay, we’ve got about two minutes before he makes his way over here. $100 for whoever can talk him into it.”

“Who and into what?” Marinette asked looking between the three brothers.

They all looked at each other then back to her. “Our brother Dick use to be in a circus and let’s just say he has a thing for hanging off chandeliers.” Tim answered while Jason snickered, Damian just looked annoyed.

“So, you’re trying to get him to what exactly?” She asked trying to keep the grin off her face. Well, this wasn’t what she was expecting at a gala. She was sure the host Bruce Wayne would have all of them kicked out for this and banned from the social events in Gotham for life. But Marinette was intrigued and always up for chaos.

“See the row of chandeliers little lady.” Jason pointed at the ceiling and Marinette noticed the rows of small gold chandeliers hanging in-between the garlands of flowers. There was a large chandelier in the middle of the room that looked to be a permanent fixture. The smaller ones started in each corner of the room then met the larger one in the middle. It made a decorative X across the ceiling. “We want to see if our brother Dick can make it across the room.”

Marinette did some rough calculations in her head. Wouldn’t be the same without her yoyo but with any type of circus or parkour training the distance was doable. “If he has any type of skill that shouldn’t be impossible.”

“And you know this how?” Damian asked with his calculating green eyes studying her masked face.

She just shrugged. “How about if I can talk him into it all three of you pay up? So that would be $300.” She smiled at their shocked faces.

Jason recovered first. “Tell you what doll, if you can get him to race you across the chandeliers, I’ll make it $500 if you win?”

Marinette thought about it for a moment then downed the rest of her drink and extended her hand. “Deal.”

I’m going to swing from the chandelier

From the chandelier

I’m going to live like tomorrow doesn’t exist

Doesn’t exist.

It was easier that Marinette expected. After the three brothers left her at the bar it didn’t take Dick long to join her.

“Are you lost ma’am? Because heaven is a long way from here.”

Marinette turned and looked up into a pair of blue eyes surrounded by a dark blue mask. He was gorgeous, with a carefree smile on his face. “Does that ever work monsieur?” She asked trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know yet, but do you have a name, or can I call you mine?” His smile grew impossibly big, and he reminded her of an over excited golden retriever except with dark hair.

“If you stop with the cheese pick-up lines you can join me.” Marinette said giving him a dazzling smile.

She watched as he swallowed and seemed to falter with his comeback. He nodded and sat down next to her and cleared his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.” She looked at the bartender and smiled. “Same as before please.” The bartender studied her for a moment then poured her drinks.

“I’ll have what the ladies having, thanks.” Dick said without looking away from her eyes.

“I’m Richard but everyone calls me Dick.” He held his hand out to her.

Smiling she took his hand and giggled when he kissed it instead of shaking it. “I’m Marinette.”

“Beautiful just like its owner.” He said still holding her hand.

“How did you get Dick from Richard?” Marinette asked trying not to focus on the warmth from his hand.

“It’s kind of a long story but my mother use to call me that so after she died, I couldn’t bring myself to change it.” He looked away for the fist time since sitting next to her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I…”

“It’s ok. It was a long time ago.” He finally noticed the line of drinks in front of them. He looked back up at her and raised an eyebrow.

An hour passed with more tequila than planned. By the end of the hour Marinette was licking salt from his hand and vice versa. It wasn’t till she caught Jason looking at her from across the bar that she remembered her task.

Marinette was thankful it wasn’t as crowded as before but either way she wasn’t one to back down. “So, I heard from a little birdy that you have a thing for chandeliers?” Marinette playfully asked running her finger down his defined jaw.

He looked down at her lust clearly visible in his eyes. “Wha, who told you that?”

“I have a proposition for you.” She grabbed his tie and pulled him down till he was only an inch from her red lips.

“You could probably ask me anything right about now and I’d agree to it beautiful.” He breathed against her lips using all his will power not to kiss her.

She bit her lip and giggled when he seemed to blue screen at the action. “A race.”

Dick scrunched his eyebrows together and stared at her, confusion clear on his face. “Like a running race?”

“No silly. Up there.” She pointed up to the chandeliers.

“From the chandeliers? You want to race me, up there?” The amusement was clear on his face and mischief danced in his blue eyes.

“Don’t be too sure of yourself hot stuff.” She breathed against his lips then let go of his tie.

“And if I win, what do I get?” He asked tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, letting his finger brush against her cheek.

“My number.” She bopped his nose and straightened up.

“Ok, but first I have to ask have you done anything like this before? Because the one in the middle is really high and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could say that. I’ve been flying since I was twelve.” She smiled brightly at him and giggled at the way he was staring stary eyed at her.

Dick cleared his throat and shook his head. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t falling for this woman already and if she wasn’t lying about this, he may just have to propose to her. But first he had a race to win.

“You sound too good to be true Mars bar, you’re on.” He shook her hand as he was checking out the first chandelier. It was lower than the rest and they seemed to get higher as they got closer to the middle one. He should be able to reach the first one from a chair, but he wasn’t sure how Marinette was going to reach.

“How are you going to get up to the first one?” He asked.

“Oh I have my ways, you just worry about yourself.” She gave him a wicked grin then kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll know when to start.”

I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night

Feel my tears as they dry.

But I’m holding on for dear life

Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes

Marinette walked over to Jason. “Care to give me a hand.” She asked as she slipped her hand into his and pulled him behind her.

“Baby you can have whatever body part you want.” He said following her blindly.

She snickered as she approached the corner. Once under the chandelier she looked down at her full skirt. Her dress was made up out of two parts and she couldn’t have planned her outfit better if she tried. The top was a bodysuit that sat low on her back. The skirt sat perfectly against the bodysuit and gave the impression that it was all one piece.

Marinette reached down and undid her heals. She stepped out of them and turned to Jason who was now a whole head and a half taller than her. “We need something so Dick knows when to start.”

“On it.” Jason grabbed his phone out of his pocket and sent a message to someone. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

She turned back around. “Can you unzip me?”

“I’m completely down for PDA sweetheart, but shouldn’t we take this somewhere a little more private.”

“It’s a skirt Jason. I can’t win in this.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled at his flustered face. Why did they have to be brothers, she would happily take them both home.

“Yeah, no I knew that. I was just messin with you.” He rubbed the back of his neck before reaching for her zipper. He ran his finger down her spine and snickered when she shivered.

Marinette stepped out of her velvet skirt that pooled at her feet. She turned back around to Jason and caught him checking out what her full skirt was hiding. “Eyes up here buddy.”

“Sorry, can’t blame a guy though. Nice ass...”

“Hey.” Marinette hit his shoulder with her clutch.

“I was giving you a complement and if you’d let me finish, I would have said assets.” He winked at her.

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to put me off my game or you’re just really bad at flirting.”

“Hey! Now who’s being rude.”

Marinette ignored his pout, as cute as it was, she had bet to win. “Tell your person one minute.”

Jason nodded and sent the message. “I’m guessing you need me to get you up there?” He said pointing at the chandelier over their heads.

“Not just a pretty face then.” She smiled at him as she stepped onto his linked hands.

The music stopped for a moment and then the song ‘The Greatest Show’ started to play louder than the music before.

Marinette looked at Jason and nodded. The grin he gave her was nothing but wicked as he sent her flying up into the air.

Hugh Jackman could be heard singing ‘Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for’ as she grabbed onto the first chandelier. Trust these brothers to be over the top in their music taste as well.

Marinette heard the crowd below ‘aww’ as she swung on the chandelier. To them they probably just thought this was all part of the entertainment.

As soon as her hands closed over what should have been metal, she knew she was in trouble. The chandeliers were made from bloody chocolate. She’d just got up enough momentum to swing to the next one as she felt it start to crumble.

It was too late to back out now. All she could do was move as fast as she could till she got to the actual chandelier in the middle. She had no idea how Dick was going or if he’d fallen yet.

Her hands were slippery from the damn edible lighting and maybe all those shots weren’t the best idea. It was the last one before she could rest and wipe her hands for a second on the real chandelier.

She let go but she hadn’t gotten up enough momentum. Her hands weren’t high enough to grab the chandelier and all she could think was ‘this is going to suck’. Closing her eyes and accepting her fate she felt hands grab her wrists before she fell any further.

Keep my glass full until morning light

‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight

Help me, I’m holding on for dear life

Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes

“I didn’t know angels flew this low.”

Marinette looked up at a smiling Dick who was hanging upside down from the chandelier. His eyes were sparkling, and, in that moment, she decided she needed to know this man. Cheesy pick-up lines and all. “What can I say. Maybe I’m falling for you.” She breathed out smiling up at him.”

“Was that, was that a pickup line? Be still my beating heart.”

“Ok Romeo, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Oh and she’s punny too.”

“No, no I didn’t mean too. Argh can we get this over with before security is called.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Really? We’re hanging from a chandelier in Bruce Wayne’s Mansion what gives you that idea.”

“Manor.”

“What?”

“It’s a Manor and well, he’s kinda my dad.”

“What the hell Dick? And what does kinda mean?”

“How bout we finish what we started and then I can explain over drinks?”

“Sure, splendid, super.” Marinette made the mistake of looking down and was sure she could pick out Bruce Wayne. He’d be the one shaking his head while pinching the bridge of his nose, his mask long forgotten on a table nearby.

“I have an idea.” Dick smiled down at her.

“I don’t know you well enough to know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Do you think you can stand up here if I swing you up?” He was still smiling like a kid on Christmas morning and God was he beautiful.

Marinette looked from Dick to the chandelier and did a quick calculation in her head. “Sure.”

This wasn’t even the most ridiculous thing she’d ever done but all those other times she’d been Ladybug and had the excuse of fighting an akuma.

Dick started to swing the chandelier and Marinette quickly caught on that she could help if she swung her body in the opposite direction.

“Ok on the count of three I’m going to let you go. Ready?” Dick asked looking slightly hesitant.

“I was born ready.” She gave him a playful wink.

Dick counted and when he reached three, he let go like he said he would. Marinette flew into the air then felt the free fall that she hadn’t realized she missed before the chandelier swung back. She landed gracefully on the metal structure and quickly grabbed hold as it swung back in the opposite direction. Within moments Dick was standing next to her smiling widely.

“Damn if being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged.” He breathed into her ear.

“You’re lucky I’m not lactose intolerant because you’re as cheesy as they come monsieur.” She pushed his face away giggling.

“I’ll take that as you think I’m a snack.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“That may be so, but you can add loser to that list in a minute.” She surprised him by kissing him on the lips then took a few carefully placed steps and jumped off.

The descend was easier and Marinette had worked out the strongest points to grab before the chocolate chandeliers gave way. Within minutes she let go of the last chandelier and landed in Jason’s waiting arms.

“Now that was impressive sweetheart.” Jason said as he hesitantly let her go and helped her into her skirt. His fingers linger on the small of her back as he did her zipper up and she tried to ignore how good it felt.

“I’d say thank you but I’m curious to know if you all knew those chandeliers were made of chocolate?” Marinette questioned as she turned around and looked accusingly at him.

“What do you mean chocolate?” Jason asked looking confused.

Marinette pointed to the broken chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and held up her chocolate covered hands. Before Jason could answer Dick ran up to them smiling.

“You, you cheated.” There was no heat behind his words as he grabbed her hand. “If you weren’t so darn cute, I’d be annoyed.”

“Wait you cheated?” Jason asked.

“No, technically you let yourself get distracted. There’s a difference.” She shrugged.

“Thanks for that Dickhead you cost me $500.” Jason grumbled pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

“Wait, what does he mean.” Dick asked as Jason handed Marinette her clutch and a pile of notes that she promptly stuffed into said clutch.

“No time to talk circus freaks.” Steph followed by Chloe rushed up to them. “Bruce is coming this way. Time to get outta here.”

Jason looked at Marinette longingly, passed her shoes to her and gave her a two fringed salute before vanishing into the crowd. Steph groaned at her hopeless pseudo brothers before grabbing Marinette’s hand and dragging her and Dick to the nearest exit.

Once they were all piled into her car and leaving the gates Steph turned to Marinette and Dick who were giggling in the back seat.

“What the hell was that shit show and who the hell said you could corrupt my best friend Grayson?”

Dick looked between the two girls. “Hang on a minute, I had no idea Marinette was your friend and it was her idea.”

“Actually, it was your brother’s idea and don’t act like you didn’t jump at the chance circus boy.” Marinette playfully pushed his shoulder. “How do you guys know each other?”

“Of course it was them. I bet that little shit Tim was behind the chocolate chandeliers as pay back for the last gala.” He grumbled.

“Last gala? You guys make a habit of chaos?” Marinette asked as a thought crossed her mind. Did chaos intentionally hunt her out or was it her that was drawn to it?

“How bouts I buy you a drink and I can explain everything, if you’re up for it?” He asked taking off his mask.

Marinette smiled at him and nodded taking off her own mask. She thought he was hot with the mask on but without it he was truly beautiful. “Hey Bee, since you love me so much do you think you could drop us off at that cute little bar on 5Th Pleasssssse?”

Both Steph and Chloe groaned but agreed as the two chandelier swinging idiots shamelessly flirted in the back of the car.

Two hours later after way too many dinks and flirting that turned into a shameless exhibition of PDA the two stumbled into Dick’s apartment. Marinette looked around the apartment momentarily before turning back to Dick. He shut the door and threw his keys onto the hallway table then walked over to her and gently grabbed her hips, wasting no time to pull her back into his arms.

Marinette looked up into his lust filled eyes before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet her already swollen lips. The kiss was messy and needy as she pressed her body against his.

Dick pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “We don’t have to take this any further if you don’t want to.” He breathed against her lips.

“I know what I want, Dick.” Marinette ran her hands up his chest and under his suit jacket, taking it of in one swift movement. “But that goes both ways. What do you want?” She whispered in his ear then playfully bit his earlobe, snickering when he moaned.

“Have I told you how amazing your dress looks tonight? The only thing that would look better on you, is me.” He winked at her as she groaned and smacked his chest.

“Killing the mood Chandelier boy.”

His lip quirked up in a lopsided grin as he grabbed her and assaulted her neck with kisses, running his hand up the split in her dress earning him a soft moan from her parted lips.

“How bout now beautiful?” He asked against her lips.

“Stop talking, more kissing.” She ordered as she make quick work to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt.

He laughed as he captured her lips again. His hands found the zipper on her skirt and quickly tugged it down letting the soft fabric fall to the floor as he lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked over to the table. He swiped the contents on the ground then gently dropped her onto the smooth wooden surface.

“As you wish.” He breathed against the inside of her thigh.

Marinette lay back on the table as Dick found the clasp for her bodysuit. She quickly realised that swinging from chandeliers wasn’t going to be the only reason she remembered this night.

Sun is up, I’m a mess

Gotta get out now, gotta run from this

Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to adjust to the soft light coming in from somewhere in the unfamiliar room. An arm was wrapped around her, and she could feel a warm body behind her.

Memories of the night before flooded back to her. The gala and the stupid chandeliers. The car trip back into Gotham and seeing Dick’s face without the mask. The embarrassing shovel talk Chloe and Steph tried to give Dick before they got out of the car. The bar seated in a secluded corner. Learning things about each other before the sexual tension came to a head and the two could hardly pull away from each other to make it back to Dick’s apartment.

The apartment that she’d barely seen too busy losing herself time and time again to Dick. She knew there was a table somewhere and a couch that was soft. A plush rug that was to blame for the carpet burn on various parts of her body and who could forget the oversized shower with its waterfall shower head. And last but not least the king-sized bed.

The very bed that she was naked in, wrapped up in Dick’s arms. Who turned out to be her best friends kind of brother. Shit, had she taken things too far this time? The drinking, stupid risk taking, flirting with strangers all just to feel alive again.

Dick was boyfriend material. Someone she could see herself settling down with and she’d stuffed it up by giving into her desirers and having a one-night stand. What was Steph going to think of her? What about Dick?

Marinette could feel the panic start to creep over her skin like a hot flush, her chest tightened, and her stomach started to twist. She needed to get out of there fast before Mr sleeping beauty woke up.

She tried to escape his hold but the more she wiggled the tighter his hold got. In the end she only made it worse and now she was facing him. He looked so peaceful. She really could get use to this.

“S’wasn’t just a dream, you’re still here.” He mumbled into her hair.

“I should really go.” Marinette said pulling away from him.

That seemed to fully wake Dick up. He rubbed his eyes then reached for her wrist before she could get out of the bed. “Did I do something last night that made you uncomfortable?”

She flinched when she saw the hurt in his blue eyes. “No, no I just. I shouldn’t have stayed.” She slumped back against the bedhead holding the sheet over her chest. “You’re amazing. Last night was amazing.”

Dick rested his head on his arm so he could look into her deep blue eyes. “There’s a but right? Look I don’t want you to think I do this all the time.” He ran his hand through his hair, and she couldn’t help but watch the way his muscles flexed. “Maybe I did when I was younger. Young dumb and well you know the rest. I really like you Marinette. I know we kinda rushed things and maybe if I’d been more in control last night, I would have asked you on a date and taken things slowly. You came out of nowhere and literally swung into my life on a chandelier of all things.”

He smiled up at her and she felt her panic slip away. There was something calming about him. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite place it. “I think you need to have a talk to your fathers’ decorator. Who the hell uses chocolate chandeliers?”

He burst out laughing. “Maybe I should just keep my feet on the ground for once.” He pulled her back down and wrapped his arms around her again. “Is this, ok?”

“Yeah, I think I could get use to this.” She breathed against his lips before catching them with hers.

Dick broke away slightly breathless. “You know I always thought happiness started with a h, but turns out mine starts with u.”

Marinette groaned and playfully bopped his nose. “What am I getting myself in too?” She grumbled as Dick laughed against her lips before kissing her again.

[venusiangguk]

gold rush | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, smut, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 5k+

>>warnings: oral (m/f), fingering (f), phone sex, normal sex, explicit sex, slapping tits, slapping, crying, degrading, dirty talk, all the sex stuff, jks a lil mean and condescending but it’s very cool and sexy

>>notes: hello! this is my first post on here :) it’s part of a longer scenario i’m just seeing how it’s received before posting the full length version~~

>>summary: jk comes back from a weekend away and he wants to show you just how much he missed you. 

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

It’s a Saturday night and you’re laying in your boyfriends dorm room bed by yourself. You’re bored and alone because Jeongguk had an away tournament that was far enough to warrant a hotel for the weekend. Typically you would have tagged along like many of the students at your university, but you had had a test on Friday that you couldn’t miss. Which is why you found yourself wrapped in one of his t shirts, under his blanket scrolling absently through your phone not really paying attention to anything much, just going from app to app.

Due to the lack of anything better to do, you boredly slipped your hand under the waist band of your panties. Not particularly horny... just passing the time you would say. You casually ran your fingertips over your smooth lips before yanking your hand out, being struck with an idea. You quickly type a text to Jeongguk.

you :

hi

i’m touching myself rn

Short sweet and to the point. You nibble on your lip as you see the typing bubble pop up not even 5 seconds after it says ‘delivered’.

koo 🥴:

hi

pics ? 🥺

You roll your eyes. Two years of dating and that’s still how he responds.

you :

no way

wyd rn ??

koo 🥴:

:(

why not

i’m at dinner w my team

jimin and tae say hi

-insert pic-

You smile at the pic your boyfriend took of his friends. You were pretty close to all of the team but more so Taehyung and Jimin, seeing as you and Jeongguk would go on double dates with the couple quite often.

you:

tell them i said hi and that they should kiss 😌

Immediately he responds.

koo 🥴:

they said only if u send me pics 😌

You laugh before snapping a selfie to send to him.

you:

you didn’t even ask them but ok 🙄

koo 🥴:

ur in my shirt while jerking off ?

😩 🤌 🏻

pics PLASE

PLEASE**

You giggle and you’re about to respond when you get a facetime call from him.

“You’re so impatient,” You scold. From the looks of it, he’s in a bathroom stall.

“And you’re so mean.” He pouts. “Lemme see ‘em.”

You think about being annoying and making him wait more, but he looks so handsome and hopeful that you just can’t bring yourself to tease much. You grab the bottom of his loose t shirt and pull it up and tuck it under your chin. The cool air of the room makes your nipples harden and you grab one of your tits in your free hand and squeeze and shake it gently. “These?” You ask sweetly.

His eyes are hooded and he subconsciously runs his tongue over his lips before biting the plump bottom one softly. He’s blushing when he says, “Mhmm, they’re so pretty. Will you lick them for me, baby?”

You groan. “You know I hate doing that.”

He swallows, and fusses with his hair for a second before his hand goes out of frame again. “I know it just- makes me so hard, I love watching you do it. You don’t have to though.”

You sigh and grip under your boob, and do your best to get your nipple to your mouth. They aren’t small but at the same time they aren’t the biggest so its kinda tough, but if you really try you can get it done. Once you swirl your tongue around your nipple, you hear a soft moan come from your phone speaker and you feel it go straight to your pussy. You suck on your nipple a little more before pulling off with a loud pop!

“Are you hard?” You ask, a slight shake to your voice as you get more and more turned on. He nods. “Are you touching?” He nods again. “Show me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls his sweater up and holds it between his teeth so you can see his toned stomach as well as the bulge in his pants. He runs his hand over it, toying with the tip some, making soft muffled noises fall from his lips. His stomach tenses a little bit.

You put your hand down your panties again, and tease a little at your clit. “You look so good, I wish you weren’t so far away...” You whine quietly.

Jeongguk groans and brings his face back into view. “I know, baby. I can’t even stay here with you to help or coach will get suspicious. We are supposed to be team bonding before the final game tomorrow.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve got to will this boner away and go back out there.” He sounds like it pains him as much as it pains you to finish off alone.

“Take it out really quick, just for a second,” You say quickly before he goes.

He scowls playfully. “I really can’t stay, so just a little.”

You lick your lips and nod quickly, rubbing your fingers on your clit a little faster.

He gets the angle right and unbuttons his pants and pulls his hard cock out just enough for him to stroke up and down. He groans once he gets a hand around himself at the same time that you let out a high pitch moan.

Jeongguks cock is so pretty. It’s fat and plump and pink. Shiny at the tip where he’s already leaking. He always gets so wet for you, just like you get wet for him. His hand wrapped around himself is truly a sight. His long slender fingers moving up and down before the whole hand grips around his girth. He’s thick and long and the thought of him filling you up makes you whine and your pussy pulse.

“Are you touching yourself baby?” He whispers.

You nod. “Yes, yeah... please come home. Right now.”

He hums on a laugh. “Show me how wet that pretty pussy gets for me.”

You swirl your fingers around your wetness before bringing the glistening digits up into view of the camera. He groans and his head falls back before putting the camera back down to his cock to show you how fast he’s stroking.

“You get that wet for me even though I’m miles and miles away? How slutty baby... How do you taste hmm? Sweet like when I last tasted you just a couple of days ago?”

You’re just about to suck your fingers into your mouth for him when you hear a door open through your phone speaker.

“Kook? It’s time to stop jerking off and participate in the bonding activities, Captain .”

You can tell from the deep voice that it’s Taehyung that came to get him. You giggle quietly.

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming give me a minute.” He says through the bathroom stall. He sighs, and gives you a playful eye roll like he’s exasperated.

“Don’t cum while I’m here, and be thankful that it was me that came to get you and not coach. Bye y/n!” He says loudly.

“Bye Tae!” You squeak as you hear the door close.

Jeongguk groans, but smiles lazily at you. “Guess I gotta go.”

You hum. “Guess you do Captain.”

He laughs a little as he does his pants back up, tucking his now mostly soft cock away. “I love you. Cheer me on tomorrow. I’ll see you after, but I probably won’t get back to the dorms till late. Are you gonna be there still or are you going back to yours?”

“I’ll wait for you. Score a goal for me, and text me later. Love you.” You smooch at the screen and Jeongguk does the same before the call ends.

And with that you are once again left alone, but a lot more horny than before the talk. So you do what any sensible person would do.

You pull up the hub.

~~~

Jeongguk walks into his dorm room around 10 pm, and the first thing he sees is you, right where you were when you hung up the night before after your little facetime sesh. The only difference is that you’re wearing a different shirt, still his, and you have ice cream in your hand and your laptop set up on your lap a show playing in the background.

At the sound of the door opening your eyes find his and you quickly set your food down on his night stand, and fling the covers off your lap, paying no mind to the mac book that is now buried somewhere under his comforter, before squealing and flinging yourself into his arms.

He grabs you easily, bags dropping to the floor, hands under your butt to keep you hoisted. You wrap you legs around his tiny waist and smush your lips to his cheek and mumble a distorted, “I missed you.”

“Okay so kiss me about it,” He says back, eyes glinting and lips puckered.

You giggle, placing your hands on his cheeks, angling your head to slot your lips between his. He parts easily for you, and starts to walk you both back to his bed before he drops you where he found you. You bounce lightly and take a second to take him in.

He’s wearing oversized comfy clothes, grey sweats and a big white long sleeve shirt. His long hair is soft and shiny, falling over his pretty face delicately. He must have had a shower at the hotel after the game. He looks soft and oh so sweet. You just want to devour him. From the looks of the semi in his pants, he’s feeling the same way about you.

“Ah, already getting hard for me?” You coo, hand cupping him over his sweats. He pushes against your palm, unashamed. “You just got here baby.”

He shrugs looking down at you. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend. I had to rub one out in the bathroom room last night as soon as we got back to the hotel. Tae and Jimin were right outside.”

You nuzzle into the material of his sweats feeling his cock quickly become fully erect as you mouth at it. His hand comes down to cup your cheek, run through your hair. “I watched porn after we got off the phone.”

“Did you?” He asks, shifting away for a second so he can pull his sweats down, leaving him in his briefs. You see a little wet patch where the tip is. You suck lightly over the material and he moans loud and clear for you. He sounds so much prettier in person, over the phone just doesn’t compare.

“Yeah, came so hard. Was thinking about you and me.”

“Fuck. Did you make a mess all over my sheets?”

You shake your head as you slowly pull the waist band of his briefs down his hard cock. Once it’s free it bounces in front of your face, flushed and begging for your mouth. You stroke lightly while saying, “No, but I did find something that I wanna try.” You flick your tongue under the head and the hand in your hair tightens and pushes slightly. You part your lips and let him in.

“Mmm, you can tell me all about it once I’m done with you. I can’t wait any longer baby. Swallow me,” He moans, both hands going to the back of your head and pulling you farther onto his cock. He jerks when he feels you swallow around the tip. “So fucking good.” He sighs.

You let him have his way, fucking your throat a little, although he’s much gentler than he usually is when he does it, and he does it for a much shorter time. He must be tired from the weekend, or he must have something else in mind for tonight.

“Lay back baby.” He says when he pulls out of your throat, crawling on the mattress. He finds your discarded laptop and places it under the bed out of the way. You both remove the rest of your clothes before you do as he says and he settles down between your legs.

You figure since he got hard literally on arrival, that he wouldn’t waste time with teasing, would get right to the good part. But no. He takes his sweet time kissing, licking and biting at your thighs, squeezing them roughly in his hands. He nuzzles into your skin flicking the lightest lick over you pussy lips before pulling back and blowing a little. You gasp and roll your hips, trying to get him closer to where you wanted, spreading your legs even farther apart, presenting yourself to him. But he’s having none of that.

“Stop fucking squirming,” He groans before you feel his grip tighten on your hips. But still he doesn’t go where you want him, so you fight against his hold.

“Stop teasing then,” you whine with a scowl.

He bites at your inner thigh. “Hush baby.”

You huff and hit your tiny fists on the bed, frustrated and fussy. “Make me.”

Jeongguk stills and you gulp. He glances up from between your thighs, and he quirks an eyebrow at you.

“What was that?” He asks, much too calmly.

“I said make me.” You whisper poutily.

He sighs and sits up. You get to whine for just a second before you’re yelping and squeezing your legs shut. He just smacked your pussy.

“Shut up.” He says. He doesn’t sound angry, very casual in fact. He rubs his hands over your legs, easing them back open. “Y’know y/n, I had a very long weekend. Travelled hours to play 4 games in two days. Travelled hours back.” He’s running his fingertips over your pussy lips, smearing around the slick you know is pouring out of you. You shiver. You love it when he gets like this. You love it every time your guys are together, but when he’s extremely one way or the other, extremely dominant or extremely submissive? It just makes your entire body burn and your pussy ache. “I even scored a goal for you in the final.” He glances at you, finally sneaking his finger between your folds, he grazes your clit and you shiver, legs spreading even more. “All I wanted to do was get home and take care of you... Make my girl feel good...” He’s rubbing circles around the little nub and your hips slowly start to rock into his touch, breathing heavy from the pleasure. His girl. Yes. You’re his girl. You tell him so.

“Really?” He asks. You nod. He hums. “That’s funny because all I see here is a brat .” He spits out, before another smack lands on your sensitive cunt.

You cry out, trying to close your legs again, but he holds them open. He settles between them again and says sternly, “Now be good. I’m going to do it how I want. Do you understand?” You whisper a tiny yes. He sighs like he’s relieved that you’re not going to be difficult and put up much of a fight, so he can finally do what he’s been wanting to for days. He pushes back on your thighs so your cunt it fully exposed to him, and he spits on it before rubbing his fingers around the sticky mess. Every time he rubs over your clit you twitch, but you’re trying to be good.

“So fucking messy baby. So gross.” He says sweetly as presses his tongue flat on your opening before licking all the way to your clit. He moans at the taste of you despite his words just a moment ago and your eyes roll back. He’s in a mean mood now. And you’re gushing for it. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty baby... because your little cunt is so nasty , just leaking all over the place. I’ve barely even touched her, and she’s dripping down to my sheets. How did you manage to keep them clean while I was gone hmm?” He doesn’t let you respond, quickly sucking your clit into his mouth suctioning it just a bit before flicking the tip of his tongue over it quickly.

“Ah, f-fuck-“ You gasp. You raise yourself onto your elbows so you can watch. He hums around your clit before he flicks his eyes to you. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut before falling to your back again, not able to handle the gaze he gives you.

He pulls off and uses his fingers to open your lips and pull the hood back before making his tongue flat and licking slowly over your exposed clit.

“Oh my god- That’s- that feels so good baby,” You say between breaths. Your legs are starting to get a slight tremble to them but still, you pull them farther back, making yourself as open as you can for his tongue.

He hums and then smiles, biting at your clit gently, making you jolt. “Feels good baby?” He rubs his fingers all over your core again. You nod and he says, “Could have felt good before and not had spanks if you weren’t so fucking bad.” He swats your cunt again lightly, before sighing and kissing your clit sweetly. Your head is spinning from the switches in his mood but you love it. Love that you don’t know what to expect when he slides his fingers into you. He moans and rests his head on your inner thigh, watching as his fingers slip in and out of your heat. He looks like he’s in awe of your cunt, watching as it clenches and sucks his fingers in. He looks so lovely between your legs.

“Always so fucking tight, can’t wait to get my cock in here.” When he says ‘here’ he curls his fingers inside of you and your back arches off of the bed, and you moan his name loudly. “That’s it baby...” He whispers against your core before he starts to thrust his fingers into you, curling on the pull out. He adds his mouth and you start to shake. Your hands find his hair and you pull him closer, feel him lick and suck at your clit like its the best thing he’s ever tasted. He moans while he eats your pussy. And he has the nerve to call you nasty. He’s absolutely filthy.

“I- close-“ You choke out, relishing in the sloppy wet pleasure that his mouth and fingers are giving you.

He says ‘mhmm’ against your clit before pulling away to get out a quick, “Fuck. Yeah you are, cum for me.” and then he’s diving right back in, focusing on where you’re most sensitive, your clit and your g spot.

“There baby, yeah- fuck , don’t stop ,” You whine quietly as your body tenses. Your legs are shaking out of control, before the string in you snaps and you cry out. Your thighs close around his head and you grind your cunt into his face riding out your orgasm before it gets too much and your try to squirm away. But Jeongguk holds you there until you’re almost crying from the overstimulation.

You pull at his hair, begging him to stop, and finally, he does. He pulls away from your messy cunt, and lays himself on top of you before kissing you deep, wasting no time sticking his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself on him. You moan and twine your fingers through his long hair, arching your body to get as close to him as you can. You feel him start to rut his cock over your sensitive core, and gasp. He’s so hard, you can feel him throb against you. He pulls away and grips his cock at the base, lining it up with your pussy before sliding it up and down, teasing your clit even more, mixing his precum with his spit and your slick. He focuses his frenulum on your clit, and his hips twitch. His head rolls back, and his mouth opens in a silent moan. He pulls back and when he looks at you again, he looks wild. His eyes are dark with desire and his pupils are blown. His hands grip at your body like he can’t get enough of you. You’ll have pretty little bruise blossoms all over your body in the morning. Finally, the tip of his cock breaches your center.

You’re so hot, and tight, and so fucking wet around him, that Jeongguk can’t keep the moan that falls from his lips locked away as he pushes inside of you. He pushes all the way to the hilt, you can feel him flush against your clit. Your mouth falls open in pleasure, but your eyes never leave him, the first thrust always being your favorite. Finally getting filled up like you wanted. You can feel him in your belly, heat pooling there as he lets you adjust to his size. Sometimes he likes press his hand into your tummy while he fucks you. Says can feel his cock splitting you open. You watch the man above you part his lips and furrow his brows in pleasure while he does his best to not go too fast, tries not to thrust into you wildly like he so wants to.

He’s leaning over you, hands on the side of your head. You run your palms up his sides, whispering, “I’m good, you feel so good. Give it to me please.” You lean up and press a kiss to his collarbone.

He’s quick as he hikes your legs up and hooks them on his shoulders. He rests some of his weight on you, bending you in half as he starts moving his hips. He pulls out to just the tip before slamming back in with one swift motion. Your hands claw at his back, the angle he has you in allowing him to reach even deeper. Gasps are punched out of you as he starts to set his brutal, sharp pace, not forgetting how bad your were earlier. He’s going to make sure you feel every inch of him for days.

“Oh my god, fuck. That’s so fucking good, Jeongguk. Please fuck me,” Your moans are high pitched and close to sobs.

He leans back some and spreads your legs wide, hands on your ankles to keep them open and he looks down slowing his thrust to watch as he slides into your little cunt. Your pussy is swollen and pink around his cock. He can see your arousal shiny on the base of his cock. “Fuuuck,” He moans as he closes his eyes basking in the feel of you clenching tight around him. He’s slowly pulling his cock from you, only for you pussy to pull him right back in. “This pussy was made to take my cock, huh?” He says speeding up. You nod and tell him, “Yes only your cock gets me this wet, this fucking hot.” He pumps his cock into you hard enough for you to get jostled, so your words come out in choppy and incoherent moans.

The way he’s fucking you makes your tits bounce, perky and pretty. He growls and leans down to suck a nipple into his mouth. You arch into his touch, cute little mewls falling from your lips as his tongue flicks over the small bud. You brush his long hair out of his eyes, holding him to your tit as he makes goosebumps rise to your skin.

“That feels so nice baby,” You say. It’s quiet and desperate, you head thrown back, neck extended and bared to him.

His eyes flick up to look at you, still playing with your nipples. He sees you bared in submission and can’t help the hand that rubs up your torso all the way to your neck. Just begging to have a hand around it. He pulls off your your tit, letting one of your legs fall to around his waist and you moan loud and long as the picks up his pace again.

Your favorite position. He knows how to fuck you any and every way, but like this he fucks you just right, making you fall apart in no time at all. The hand around your throat tightens at the sides, making the moans and whines that come out of your mouth high pitched and airy. The lack of blood flow to your brain makes you feel lightheaded and fuzzy, almost euphoric as he fucks you into submission. His free hand smacks your tits lightly, and you clench from the dull pain as they jiggle. Jeongguk swears.

“God your pussy is just milking my cock, not even letting me pull out all the way. Such a greedy , selfish little cunt. Can’t get enough of this cock filling her up.” He grips your hips with both hands and watches your pussy swallow his cock.

You giggle, soft and delirious as you feel the first signs of your orgasm pool in the pit of your belly, right where Jeongguk’s cock is pounding into you.

“You think that’s funny?” He questions. He grips your jaw and makes you look at him. Your cheeks are smushed and your eyes water from the hold he has on you. “You think being a selfish, greedy little slut is funny?” He presses against the side of your face, biting at your cheek like he just needs to sink his teeth into something to let out some of the pent of feelings coursing through his veins.

“I just love it. Love your cock so much,” You whimper.

Jeongguk pulls back so he can look into your eyes again. He looks at you mockingly. “You love it?” His voice is condescending and it makes your pussy drip. “You fucking love it?” He looks crazed as his hips jackhammer into your cunt, the slaps of his skin meeting yours ringing loud and clear throughout the dorm. Bless his poor neighbors.

“Yes, yes I fucking love it,” God you’re going to cum.

He feels how close you are, sees the way your legs are trembling. He’s moaning when he says, “Shit baby, show me how much you love it. Show me, make that little pussy cream all over my fat cock.”

You nod helplessly as your body jerks in his hold. You can feel your pussy contract over his cock as he brings you the precipice of your pleasure. Tears fall from your eyes from how overwhelmingly good it feels.

Jeongguk fucks into you a few more times, the last of your orgasm leaving your body, as you listen to the higher pitched moans falling from his lips at a faster rate than before. He gasps as he pulls out and positions himself over your heaving chest, cock right in your face as he fists it fast.

“Fuck, open you mouth,” He says, voice dripping with pleasure. You do, smiling, tongue out. He groans deep before his hips jerk and he whispers, “I’m gonna cum,” with heavy lust filled eyes. You feel the first shot of cum land on your cheek.

“Mmm yeah, cum all over my face,” You hum, blissed out.

He milks every last drop of his load out, and you suckle on the tip until he’s whining and shivering, pulling back with an overwhelmed, overly sensitive gasp.

He catches his breath for a second before he gets up and makes his way to bathroom. He sees you about to wipe the cum off your face and says, “Wait a sec.”

You sit patiently, criss cross apple sauce, cum on your face, eyes red and wet from the tears you shed, until he comes back with a wet wash cloth in one hand. He makes a stop at his bags on the floor and fishes his phone out.

He sets the wash cloth on the night stand next to your forgotten, melted ice cream and pulls up the camera.

“Smile baby,” He says, softly giggling.

You do, big and radiant, throwing up a little finger heart. You hear the shutter a few times before his phone takes the place of the wash cloth on the night stand. You reach for it to clean yourself, but he pulls away, wanting to do it himself.

You smile as he concentrates and gently cleans up his mess from your face. His tongue peaks out of his lips and you peck him. He stills before scowling with a small smile, and continuing.

“You look so pretty when you have my nut all over you face,” He says absently. His thumb brushes under you eye. “When you cry too.” He cups your jaw and runs his thumb over your cheek bone. “I wasn’t too mean was I? Too rough?” His eyes search yours. You shake your head.

“No I like it when you get like that, ‘s sexy,” You say wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him so that you both are laying down. You wrap around him like a koala. He yawns and settles in your hold, snuggling into the bed.

“Okay good. You can be mean next time,” He sounds sleepy.

You scoff, knowing that you both know that when you take control it’s in a softer way. Degrading and being mean was his thing, what you liked. Jeongguk liked to be praised.

“Yeah okay,” You say sarcastically. “You’d cry in a non sexy way if I was even half as mean to you as you are to me,” You scratch at his scalp and he purrs.

“I’m sensitive,” He whines. Another yawn. “And sleepy. Shhhh.”

“Jeongguk wait,” You say.

“Hmm?” He says already close to knocking out.

“I wanna eat your ass next time.”

“Mhmm, okay. Now sleep please. Turn off the lamp.” He turns over, wanting to be the little spoon.

You know he didn’t actually listen to what you said, but that would not stop you from holding the ‘yes’ he gave you over his head in the morning when he’s more coherent. You flick off the lamp, and throw an arm over his waist. He snuggles back into you, fitting his body against yours. You kiss his shoulder and say, “Okay, remember that you said yes in the morning.”

All you get in response is a soft snore.

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

and there it is! let me know if u want me to finish and post the whole thing! comments and feedback are appreciated!

part 2 here!

part 3 here!

[sacredsorceress]

Know You Better || Bucky Barnes

pairing: 40’s!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

summary: your brother’s best friend, bucky, rescues you at the dance club and walks you home, but you both have feelings that are a bit more than friendly

a/n: i have been on such a 40s!bucky x rogers!reader kick i’m so sorry but i hope you enjoy! reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.0k

warnings: attempted assault, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

1940

Listening absentmindedly to the brunette seated beside him, Bucky took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes trained on you dancing across the room.

He wasn’t sure if you had seen him when you walked in, but he sure as hell did. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as soon as he caught you walking into the establishment with some of your friends, not even taking six steps into the building without some guy asking you to dance. Although he was there with his own date- a girl he had asked out at the diner yesterday- he regretted it as soon as he saw you in that other man’s arms and felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He hated it- thinking that way about you- he knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong. You were Steve’s sister. There were thousands of eligible ladies in New York and he just had to have feelings for his best friend’s little sister.

He should have seen it coming- he had always had a soft spot for you- getting into fights any time someone looked at you the wrong way, making up lies about his sister begging him to ask you to braid her hair just so he could see you without Steve there, and even the simplest things like knowing he laughed harder when you were there laughing along with him. 

As much as he hated it, he wasn’t the only one who had seen it either- his mom teasing him that one day he was gonna settle down and marry that Rogers girl, him having to slap his hand over his sister’s mouth because he just knew the little punk was gonna let it slip one day- he was undeniably soft for you with only you and Steve being none the wiser.

Watching as the guy rested his hand on your lower back, pulling you closer to him, Bucky began to feel his blood boil. Who did this guy think he was anyway? He didn’t deserve to hold you close like that. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know you the way that Bucky did.

As the band continued to drone on in the background, Bucky began to grow tired watching the sight of you two together and was ready to head home until he saw you shake your head adamantly and part from the man, making your way to the far corner of the dance club where the bathrooms were situated, the man you had just been dancing with following behind you.

As soon as you left his line of sight, Bucky put out the cigarette he had been smoking in the ash tray. Cutting off the brunette whose name he couldn’t even remember, he pulled out his wallet, leaving cash on the table before standing up.

“It’s been nice, doll.” He said. “But I’m gonna have to go.”

Without another word, he shoved his wallet into his back pocket, striding over to the back corner of the building.

-

Swinging open the door of the bathroom, you saw the man you had just been dancing with waiting right outside the door in the tiny hallway just off the main room.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, bumping into the man you had never caught the name of.

“One more dance?” He asked.

Shaking your head, you chuckled nervously trying to push past him. “No, sorry. I can’t.” You faux apologized. “My brother’s waiting for me at home and I don’t wanna worry him.”

Just as you attempted to move past him, he pushed you against the wall of the dimly lit hallway and grabbed your hands when you tried to shove him away. Struggling in his grasp you jolted backwards as his head made its way into the crook of your neck.

“C’mon sweetheart.” He whispered. “The night’s still young-”

“She said no.” A familiar voice spoke up from behind him.

Feeling a sense of relief wash over you, you took advantage of the man’s distraction and shoved him away from you, Bucky grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as he stumbled into him. Shoving him against the wall you watched as Bucky’s face came inches away from the man’s.

“Listen man.” The guy said throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked. “Didn’t look like that to me.”

“C’mon pal,” The guy chuckled nervously. “Just let me go and we can forget this ever happened.”

“Y/n?” You heard your brother’s best friend ask.

“Yeah?” You answered, standing up straighter.

“What do you think I should do with this guy?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself and checking the time on your wrist watch, you shrugged.

“I don’t know, Buck.” You sighed. “It’s getting late. Steve’s gonna wonder where the hell I am. I told him I was just goin’ to dinner.”

Heeding your words, Bucky pulled the man’s face closer to his.

“You got lucky this time.”

Once Bucky saw fear in the man’s eyes, he felt satisfied, throwing the man to the floor and watching as he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the hallway. Turning back to you, Bucky pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, slipping one out.

“I could have handled that myself, ya know.” You said, still leaning against the wall.

Shaking his head, he scoffed slipping the cig into his mouth.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” He said looking up at you, pulling a lighter from his other pocket. “You and your brother, Y/n... ya know... sometimes it would be nice to hear a ‘thank you’.”

You understood what he meant- Bucky was looking out for you just as he always had and as much as your pride hated to admit it- you were glad he had come to your rescue when he did.

Watching him bring the lighter to the cigarette that hung from his mouth, you shook your head.

“C’mon, Buck.” You groaned, snatching the lighter from his hand. “Those things will kill you.”

“There’s a war going on, doll.” He said plucking the lighter from your grasp. “I think a cig’s the least of my worries.”

Hearing the pet name slip from his mouth, you began to feel the heat rise to your face.

In all the time you had known James “Bucky” Barnes, you had heard him call dozens of girls that name, but never you. He had always called you by your name or teasing nicknames like “punk” or “kid”- never “doll”. That name was saved exclusively for girls you took on dates and kissed on the walk back to their apartments - not you.

But as he used the name on you for the first time, whether it was an accident or not, you felt butterflies floating in your stomach.

A part of you hated that you didn’t hate it and the other wished he would call you that again and again.

“James please.” You urged. “You know I hate the smell of those things.”

James.

As much as he loved his nickname, the sound of his first name falling from your lips was sweet as honey and so intimate he swore he would do whatever you asked when you said it.

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he shoved it back in the pack and into his back pocket, pulling up his sleeve to check his watch.

“You’re right.” He said, clearing his throat. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back home.”

Following him out of the hallway and into the main room, the sound of the band still playing in the background, you spotted the man Bucky had just thrown out speaking to what you assumed was one of his friends. Adverting your eyes from him, you instinctively moved closer to Bucky, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Feeling your touch against his clothed skin, his heart skipped a beat as he pulled open the door of the club, both of you moving outside into the cool summer night air.

“Why were you here anyway?” You asked, walking alongside Bucky on the sidewalk. “You have a date or something?”

“Yeah.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach.

“But I wasn’t interested. I stopped listening to her story about her last date two minutes in.”

Just now realizing that you had been holding your breath, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Buck.” You apologized half heartedly, a part of you glad that his date with another random girl he had just met didn’t work out.

“S’alright.” Bucky assured you. “There’s plenty of better girls in the city. I’m walkin’ with one of 'em right now.”

Glancing up at your brother’s best friend beside you, you met his eyes and smiled.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirtin’ with me, Barnes.” 

Gazing down at you, your face highlighted by the dim glow of the streetlamp illuminating the sidewalk, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say next. You had been consuming his thoughts for months- years even- that now as you tested the waters he couldn’t find the right words to speak next.

He couldn’t risk losing you, but as he admired you in the soft glow of the moon shining above the apartment buildings, he knew he couldn’t risk not having you either.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Now the one speechless, you stared up at him, noticing the seriousness in his face- not a hint of his usual teasing smirk in sight.

Just as you opened your mouth, you watched as the light switched on in your apartment above. 

Shoving Bucky against the wall of the building so he was out of sight, you looked up as the window opened and your brother’s head popped out.

“Y/n?” Steve asked. “That you?”

“Yeah!” You called. “I’ll be up in a second. I just gotta... fix my shoe.”

“Were you talkin’ to someone?” He asked, checking the sidewalk below you.

“What?” You asked, shaking your head. “I wasn’t talking to anyone. You’re hearing things- go back to bed before you wake up the block!”

With that you watched as your brother shrugged, moving himself back into the apartment, slamming the window shut. Emerging from the shadows, Bucky gestured towards the apartment.

“You’re lying to your brother now?” He asked. “You really don’t want to be seen with me that bad?”

Strolling towards him, you laughed.

“I love Steve, Buck, but sometimes he can be a bit too protective.” You said, grabbing the end of his tie. “I gotta go, but...”

Tugging on his tie, you pulled him towards you and when his face lined up with yours, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, James.” You whispered in his ear.

As you dropped his tie from your hands, he stood up straighter, watching with wide eyes as you made your way back towards your apartment, throwing him one last glance over your shoulder with a smile before climbing up the steps and out of his sight.

Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, fearing that he was blushing so hard anyone could see it even in the darkness of night, he held his hand up to the spot on his face where you had just kissed him, leaning back against the wall.

Feeling his heart thump against his chest, he knew he was done for.

A part of him had always known that his mother was right- that he was gonna settle down one day and end up with the Rogers girl. As much as he had dismissed it, promising “Ma, she’s Steve’s sister. She’s my friend”, he knew better. As he stood there leaning against the brick wall of your apartment building on that cool summer night, a part of him knew- as he would recount to you on your wedding day- that it was the end of the string of new girls on dates every other night for him and the beginning of the rest of his life.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+ 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, Sandy and Carl being bad parents, 18+ content in later chapters 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: Here is the first part of my newest series and I want to thank the anon who reached out to me with this idea! 

If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know!

Taglist Form is in my bio and should be updated to now to include this fic! (If for some reason it isn’t working send me a message and I’ll make sure you’re added!!)

“Damn it, Sandy, can’t you handle that?” Carl yells from his dark room as the baby starts crying again.

“Fuck you, Carl,” Sandy shouts back, hurrying to put out her cigarette before heading to the nursery.

Their little girl was just about a year old, and neither one of them knew what they were doing. Carl was incredibly indifferent and despite her honest attempts at motherhood, Sandy’s maternal instincts never kicked in like she thought it would happen. Carl was annoyed that it cut into their time they would be on trips. They weren’t able to photograph models with the baby on the road, so he’d been itching to get back on the road.

“Is she hungry?” he shouts back, not even bothering to take his eyes off of the most recent photographs he had been developing.

“I just fed her!”

“Then why is she crying?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sandy shouts back exasperated. She scooped up the baby from her crib and started to rock her back and forth in her arms. Sandy also tried burping her, humming a little lullaby she made up on the fly… no luck. She walks around the house with the baby on her hip, trying to rock her back to sleep.

“We haven’t able to get back on the road in a year,” Carl says, clearly frustrated.

“That ain’t purely my fault,” she spits back, “Takes two to make a baby, Carl.”

“Fuck I know,” he groans, “But I need new inspiration. If I take one more picture of nature…”

“If she’s such a hindrance, pay for a damn sitter like I suggested months ago,” she counters.

“We can’t have no stranger walking around the house Sandy,” he points out.

“Just keep your damn room locked, it’s not a huge deal,” Sandy sighs. “Besides, no one is gonna snoop around if you pay ‘em enough. You damn well produce your own incriminating evidence; you should always have that room locked anyways.”

“We only have to worry about your damn brother,” Carl points out, “We hire a fucking sitter that’s two people we need to worry about.”

“You’re just to goddamn cheap to hire somebody,” Sandy states, moving back towards the nursery, the baby now snoring softly.

“You know what? Fine,” Carl says defeated. “But you’re in charge of putting the ad out and hiring somebody.”

“Thank you,” she says in a sing song tone, happy she got her way. But the moment of quiet that follows is short lived as they baby starts crying again.

“Please for the love of God can you just take care of that?” Carl yells, and the argument circles back to the beginning.

You had sat in the small dinner in the corner booth hunched over the newspaper and nursing your now cold cup of coffee. You had just arrived in Knockemstiff and were looking for work. “Any leads?” Julie asked as she topped off your coffee. Julie was your roommate. You had found her the same way you were currently looking for a job. You must have answered at least ten terrible Roommate Wanted ads until you had found Julie. The two of you now share an apartment- the top floor of a three-family owned by a sweet older couple.

“Thank you,” you say without looking up from scanning the ads. “Maybe this one?” You say pointing to one of the ads. She looks to see her manager stepped out for his smoke break before sliding in the booth across from you. You slide the paper over to her and she reads the ad out loud.

NANNY NEEDED Knockemstiff, Ohio

Couple that travels for work in need of a nanny for one-year-old daughter.

Temporary live-in position for several weeks at a time. Pay negotiable.

Call Sandy Henderson at the below number.

“I can sublet the room temporarily while you stay there,” Julie offers. “It’s a pretty vague offer,” she continues. “I wouldn’t commit until you call and speak to that Sandy woman.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll need to be interviewed,” you agree. “What kind of people are comfortable just leaving their baby for weeks at a time with a perfect stranger?”

“Paul is still out back I think,” she chuckles, “I’ll let you use the wall phone.”

You take a seat at one of the stools at the counter, and she dials the number for you and then passes you the receiver. You mouth a thank you and she waves her hand in dismissal as she heads over to take someone’s order.

“Whaddya want?” the woman on the other end answers abruptly.

“Oh, I’m calling about the ad in the paper regarding the nanny position. Is it still available?”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, hun,” the woman says, now in a much nicer tone. “Thought it was my brother calling. Yes, it is, and we need it filled as soon as possible. When are you available?”

“For an interview?” You ask.

“Yeah,” she says mumbled, like she is dangling a cigarette from her mouth. “Can you come today?”

“Oh, wow. Yes, I can,” you reply.

“Great, um, you got a pen? Take down this address.”

About two hours, a change of clothes and a cab ride later, you were standing outside a house towards the end of town. It was a little run down, but what building in this town wasn’t? You were a little nervous of course, but it was also the most unconventional way you have gotten an interview. Part of you was relieved, because the woman on the phone sounded real, not phony, but the circumstances still made you uneasy. Julie had the address and said you’d call when you got back to the taxi dispatch.

“Welcome, welcome,” Sandy smiled, opening up the door for you. She had one hand on the doorknob and one of the cutest babies you’d ever seen in the other. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable.”

“Who is this?” you coo, leaning down to the baby’s eye level. “She’s darling.”

“This little sweetheart is Valerie,” Sandy smiles, passing the baby to you. “She’s so well-behaved. Hardly ever cries.”

“She’s adorable,” you smile, as the baby cuddles up close, resting her head on your shoulder. “I didn’t properly introduce myself on the phone. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I’m Sandy,” she introduces herself. “Please take a seat on the couch, get comfortable. I hate things that are so formal. Bleh.”

You take a seat on the couch, and readjust the little girl in your arms so she’s sitting on your lap and her back is resting against you so she is supported.

“So, my husband and I are on the road a lot, usually,” she begins, “We took some time off when we had Valerie, but we really need to start working again, you understand.”

“Of course, what do you both do?” you ask politely.

“We’re photographers,” she beams, “Mostly nature and landmarks- which reminds me! We have a darkroom in the house, but that door will be locked when you’re staying here. We don’t want any damage to any of the negatives we have stored in there you understand. Everywhere else in the house is yours to explore! And of course we gotta spare bedroom you can call your own.”

“Fair enough,” you joke.

“So, tell me about yourself, honey,” she smiles, crossing her legs in the armchair where she sat.

“Well, I just moved here a few weeks ago actually,” you begin, “I just recently finished school, and now I’m looking for work. I just got my degree in early childcare from the state college.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says with a clap of her hands. “So, you’re local?”

“Yes, I live in town.”

“Excellent! We’d also love for this to be like an on-call thing as well, you know for date nights and things like that for times when we’re home. Like for a few hours here and there. And of course, we’ll always live money for groceries or whatever you need on top of your pay for emergencies incase Valerie needs formula or diapers or anything.”

“Perfect,” you smile, surprised how well the conversation was going. Sandy was easy-going and nice to talk to. The two of you sat and talked for a little under an hour, her asking all the standard questions you anticipated. You also were able to ask her some more of your own questions as well. It was the most effortless interview you had been on easily.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to meet Carl today,” she says when she is showing you out. “But hun, I feel confident to offer you the job. We haven’t had many applicants and you’re the most qualified one I’ve spoken to. The job is yours if you want it?”

“When can I start?” you smile, making her laugh.

“Your number is on the resume, right?” she says, scooping up the baby. You nod, waving goodbye to the baby and then saying goodbye to Sandy.

“I’ll call you when I speak to Carl, but I think once he knows he’ll want to head out as soon as we can. Plan for Sunday,” she says as you get into the cab.

Just like she had promised, you get a call from Sandy on Saturday afternoon asking you to show up the next morning at 9. You spend the day packing up your clothes and anything else you’d need for a few weeks. Sandy said they’d be back in two weeks but you pack for three just in case. Julie was also nice enough to help you. You didn’t need to do much. Ever since you had settled in Knockemstiff, you had been pretty lazy with unpacking and for once procrastination played out in your favor.

Julie insisted on taking you out to celebrate that night before starting your job tomorrow. There was a small little bar, a little shack of a place just on the outside of town you went to. Julie had a car and you drove, anticipating she’d have a lot more to drink than you. It was a hotter summer night, so you drove with the windows down and the radio playing a little louder than you normally would.

The outside was decorated with string lights of primary colors and the wooden awning looked like it was one more storm away from collapsing. But the atmosphere inside was to die for. The jukebox was playing loud dance music, and the place was crowded. Empty recycled glasses lined the walls on a high shelf as decoration along with weathered posters of anything Americana. A row of motorcycles and trucks were parked outside the little place and it looked like a pileup from how crowded the lot was. People lingered outside as well, and you both hoped you’d find seats inside.

The two of you found a high-top table and Julie made her way up to the bar, skillfully maneuvering through the crowd to grab you both some drinks. You let your eyes wandering, surveying the room and just people watching. Couples were dancing closely to the music that was rattling the jukebox, and a group of people were sitting at the bar huddles in to watch the little black and white portable television. You also noticed a group of men in uniform several tables down, local police. They weren’t paying any attention to anyone but their own conversation, except one.

He just so happened to have looked up just as your eyes landed on their table. Steel blue eyes cutting across everything and just staring right back into yours. It was a fraction of a second and his gaze was broken by Julie taking her seat across from you. You cleared your throat, and finally allowed yourself to exhale. You felt her raise an eyebrow at you but she didn’t press, just gave you a knowing smirk you brushed off. You still felt his gaze on you even if your view was now obstructed.

Sandy and Carl were in a rush when you arrived in the morning. Sandy ran you through the details of where everything was kept and told you that she would call to check in when she could when they made stopped. She helped you carry your bags in from the trunk of the taxi while Carl packed their bags in their car. He was polite enough, but you felt in your gut to just keep your distance. Sandy led you upstairs to the guest room she told you she worked to clean out for you. It was simple, a bed and a dresser with a small closet. She said it mostly had been storage and her weekend project had been clearing it out for you. It was simple, but good enough for you for sure. You thanked her and she dismissed it saying you were the one doing her a favor, making you laugh.

The whole ordeal was very hurried. Carl was rushing to get on the road as soon as possible and you could tell he was clearly irritated at how long Sandy was taking showing you around and explaining things about Valerie. Carrying the baby in your arms, you finally were settled in to your new role and Sandy gave one more big hug and a kiss on Valerie’s head before rushing down to the car. You waved to the pair of them from the small front porch, Sandy looking back and waving to the baby from the passenger seat until they were out of your line of vision.

The first day was a little daunting. New space, living in a house that isn’t yours and a baby babbling in your arms. She was a sweet thing, and she already had taken a liking to you. Heading over to her nursery, you saw that she had a little play pen folded up in the corner of the nursery and you quickly set it up in your room so you could unpack while keeping an eye on her. She babbled just happy utter nonsense to you while you navigated around the space and her big eyes just followed you, just watching you was entertaining for her for now. You were a new face and she was entertained just by that for now.

A few hours later, Valerie had settled down for a nap in the early afternoon. She was sleeping soundly in her crib and you were getting formula ready for when she woke up. It was quiet, the only noise in the house was the small sounds of your own rustling in the kitchen. You wondered when you would hear from Sandy, if it would be later tonight or in a couple of days. You just were lost in your own thoughts when you were startled by a loud knocking on the door. Instantly, Valerie began to cry. You wiped your hands quickly on the skirt of your dress before grabbing her. You rested her on your hip and rocked her gently, shushing her to calm down while you went to grab the door.

The first thing your eyes saw were the same blue eyes who was looking at you at the bar last night. The man’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked really confused. He had one hand rested on his hip and the other against the doorframe, but he stood up straight when he saw it wasn’t who he expected. Your eyes then went down to the shiny Sheriff’s Badge fixed in place on his uniform.

“Who are you?” he asks abruptly. “Where’s Sandy?”

“Sandy and Carl left this morning,” you explain, not sure if he recognizes you. “I’m their nanny.”

He laughs and shakes his head as he looks down, almost like he doesn’t believe you, or he just doesn’t believe the situation. “Carl? Carl Henderson hired a nanny?” he scoffs and you nod, holding Valerie a little closer. The little girl rubs her eyes and yawns, when her eyes flutter open, she looks at the stranger in the doorway and immediately reaches out to signal she wants to be held by him. You ignore her resistance to wanting to be in your arms until you get more information about why the Sheriff is at their doorstep, though she obviously knows him.

“I’m Sandy’s brother,” he explains, “Did she say when they were coming back?” He doesn’t try to hold the baby yet, just holds out one of his fingers and her little hand holds onto it tightly.

“Two weeks.”

“They hire a complete stranger to watch my niece and live in their house unsupervised while they drive around?” he scoffs, shaking his head again in disbelief.

“I’m more than qualified…”

“It’s not a jab at you, sweetheart,” the man tries to explain, “More so a reflection on my sister and her husband is all. They are… fairly selfish people and I wished this situation surprises me more than it does.”

“Should I tell her you came by when she calls?” you ask.

“If she calls,” the man chuckles, “Sure, let her know Lee stopped by to visit.”

“You don’t think she will?” you ask, tilting your head.

“We’ll see,” Lee shrugs, “Do I know you from somewhere?” He rests his arm back up on the doorframe and looks down to the baby again, extending out his free hand to her again and scrunching her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, not wanting to admit you remembered seeing him last night. He purses his lips together and nods, not pressing further. He pushes off from the doorframe and puts his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Must’ve been in a dream then,” he smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. He walks down the steps and back towards his cop car. “What did you say your name was?” he asks, turning back around.

“I didn’t,” you chuckle.

“Hmm,” he nods, and raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to fill in the blank. You tell him your name and he repeats it back to you like he’s thinking about it, trying it out to see how it sounds.

“Well,” he says, standing behind the open driver’s door, “Good luck, and I hope Sandy proves me wrong. Let me know if she calls.”

Taglist: 

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro​ 

[legends-of-apex]

The Jacket Thief

Robbie Reyes/Ghost Rider x Reader (18+)

Word Count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ (smut, car sex)

Summary: Having been craving him all day you decide that it's a good idea to steal Robbie's jacket when you meet him at the garage after work one day, knowing it's the very best way to push his proverbial buttons. It is. So is wearing very little other than said jacket whilst lounging on top of his precious car. Reader is presented as female.

A/N: If you’d like to be tagged in future Ghost Rider stuff (as I’m sure there will be more where this came from 💀) please feel free to let me know!

“Cariña, have you seen….” He trailed off when he saw you sprawled out on the hood of the charger wearing none other than,”… my jacket.”

He cursed under his breath at how good you looked. You were just sitting there waiting for him, his jacket wrapped around you as though you were a present with his name on it. Your legs were spread wide so he could see you only wore panties. You sat back on your elbows, your chest covered only by his jacket and nothing more. It hung open slightly, leaving the valley of your breasts exposed and he swore that was the best that jacket had ever looked. 

He wasn’t expecting such a lovely surprise to be waiting for him, least of all after hours in the dimly lit garage where he worked. 

You looked up at him beneath your lashes, relishing in how he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you like this, “Come and get it if you want it, baby.” You knew he’d be the one to lock up that night and that he’d have the place to himself. The perfect time for you to set your plan in motion once he went to get changed. 

He swallowed. Hard.

With wide eyes, he took in your appearance and silently thanked whatever god was listening for letting you walk into his life. “You really want to do it here? It’s not exactly the cleanest, chica.” He was looking at you over his nose as he slowly walked towards you, trying to seem casual and like he wasn’t at all imploding at the sight of you and the prospect of what came next. Seeing you in his jacket did something to him. It always had done. But seeing you wearing it in just your panties whilst you sat on top of his car? He would have toppled Rome if you’d asked.

As much as you knew this was a fantasy of his, you also knew he’d literally just finished work and was probably more tired than he’d ever admit, “If you don’t wanna, it’s cool. I can just take care of it myself.” By ‘it’ you of course meant your absolutely insatiable lust that day and as much as he would have loved to watch you deal with the issue yourself, there was a problem already growing in the confines of his jeans. 

When he finally reached you, placing a hand on the car’s hood on either side of you, you knew he was game and willing to do whatever the hell you wanted him to, “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” You asked, but already knew the answer. 

You had him wrapped around your finger, tighter than a glove.

“You know I have,” he’d told you about it once and you’d listened, listened to every little detail he let out about his fantasy of fucking you in his jacket, “Gotta admit, it suits you.” He opened the jacket wide so your bare chest was exposed to him, the cool leather teasing your skin. A flash of orange made its way across his eyes as he looked at you before bringing his mouth down to your breasts. That meant he liked it too. You tried not to think about the demon being a passive on-looker to all this, to everything in Robbie’s life.

“Shit-“ you gasped as he took one nipple into his mouth and palmed the other. The harsh leather of his driving gloves was a sharp contrast to the softness of his warm tongue. He pulled back with a satisfied chuckle when you were getting really into it, his inclinations that you were strung about as high as a harp right now were correct. You must have really needed a good fuck to go to all this effort. He probably should have guessed based on the text you’d sent him earlier.

“You want it here?” He asked when he pulled away from your chest and let you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, bringing him as close to you as the car beneath would allow. You nodded once in affirmation, and he tugged your hips closer to his and brought you in for a kiss that left you breathless. Robbie’s kisses left you breathless more often than not with how passionate he was. With the way he poured his soul into you every time. But today he was especially fervent, it probably had something to do with the jacket.

“Baby, please…” you huffed as you both caught your breath, “I need you.” The desperation for his touch rippled throughout your body and straight to your pulsing core. And here was nothing in this world that got Robbie off more than knowing you were needy for him.

He loved to see you like this, to hear the desperation in your voice. Knowing he was the only one who could help ease your frustrations made his insides coil. “You want me that bad, huh?” He asked, and you didn’t miss the smile on his lips as he said it. He was proud that he’d gotten you in such a state. All it took was a lingering kiss to your neck before he left to take Gabe to school that morning and you’d been craving him ever since.

You released a quiet affirmation, your eyes pleading with him to take you, to give you what you desperately craved.

With a reassuring kiss to your forehead, he started undoing his belt and unzipping his fly. That was his way of telling him he had you, that he was going to take care of you and give you precisely what you craved.

“Come on baby, spread 'em wide for me.” 

It was a good thing you were already soaked through your panties. Robbie of course made sure you were ready for him, fingers delicately working through your folds once he’d torn the fabric from your hips. He was so turned on by your little display that he was much quicker to enter you than usual. Normally he’d take the time to caress every inch of your precious skin, to taste and savour you. He liked to take his time. But today you were both so needy and the garage didn’t exactly make for an intimate setting that something far quicker was called for.

Once you were comfortably wrapped around him, the pace he set was immediately relentless, working you open so you had to brace one hand around him and another on the car for balance. 

“God, you take me so good.” He groaned, running his fingers over your thighs.

You gasped, begging for more and he obliged you to the point where he grabbed handfuls of your hips as he slammed into you repeatedly, pointedly. Relishing the moans falling from your lips at finally getting what you’d been craving all day. 

Each groan that left him fell so close to your ear that you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound. He pressed kisses to the side of your head when he wasn’t praising you. His words got lost in a sea of obscene sounds.

“Lie back,” his voice was rough and strained, and it sounded so good you probably could’ve come just listening to it when it sounded like that. 

You obliged him, detangling yourself from him in favour of laying back on his car. You were grateful for the new position as it meant you could get a good look at him and he at you. He looked strained, he always did when he was inside you and you knew it was because he was holding back. If he didn’t hold back he’d likely split you in half with how strong he was with the demon inside him. And you caught glimpses of that strength sometimes, although only when you asked and even then he was so careful with you. You placed your hand on the base of his stomach, diving beneath his shirt just so you could feel the muscle that tensed and released as he rolled his hips forward.

The new angle gave him perfect access to your clit and he made sure to take advantage of that, tugging off one glove so he could tease your dewy folds with precision. 

“Shit- Robbie, I’m close” You reached forward to cling to him, face tucked right into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” His voice was low, teasing the shell of your ear, “That’s it… just like that-“ he cut himself off with a groan as your walls clenched around him.

He pulled back away from you a little just to get a look at your face. Your eyes caught his, still glowing slightly orange, and you met together in a kiss. It wasn’t long before you were both finished and heaving, willing air to fill your desperate lungs. 

He kissed your face all over as you laughed until you caught his lips with yours once more. Then you just sat there for a moment, your foreheads resting against one another’s until you had to move. It was time to go home.

“Maybe I should steal your jacket more often?”  you suggested, looking over at him as he drove. His jacket still hung firmly around your shoulders, zipped up to cover your chest. He let you keep it for the drive home and he was going to have to pin you down to get it back later.

He laughed, a rare sound from him these days, “I wouldn’t make it a habit…” As he said it he took your hand in his before delicately bringing it to his lips, all whilst keeping his eyes on the road. With a gentle squeeze, he let your hand fall back to your lap but kept his there firmly at the curve of your thigh. The weight was comforting, a reminder of his affection and appreciation of you. Not that he’d ever let you forget it.

You covered his hand with your own and interlocked your fingers whilst his thumb continued to knead the softest of circles into your thigh. It was moments like these that made you fall in love with Robbie. His overwhelming gentleness despite the anguish he endured.

[weasleylangs]

swipe right / f.w

Summary: Finding your best friend and your biggest crush on Tinder is always awkward.  Pairing: Muggle!Fred Weasley x Muggle!Fem!Reader Warnings: Discussions of sex, language, alcohol, food/drink mention.  Word Count: 6.9k (this is the longest thing i’ve ever written)

AUTHORS NOTE / hiiiii... this is my first fic in SO long but thank you for waiting for me!!! a huge thank you to my lovely rosie @spacexcowgirl for inspiring this fic and also listening to me ramble on about it for hours on end as i was writing it and for also beta reading it guys this fic rly wouldnt exist if it wasnt for rose so.........

/ also, george’s girlfriend in the fic is named ‘em’ and she has no physical description besides also using she/her pronouns. i’m trying this out so even people who aren’t (primarily) fred simps can self insert in this fic!!!

taglist / @amourtentiaa​ @weelittleweasley​ @lumos-barnes​​ @lumosandnoxwriting​​ @loveboyhalo​​ @harrysweasleys​​ @freds-slut​​ @rcwenaclaw​​ @barneswidow​ @fandomhideout​​​

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

Y/N stared at her screen, the Tinder profile of Fred Weasley staring right back at her, teasing her ominously. She eventually decides to lock her phone to avoid the familiar and unwelcomed feelings rising in her throat. The last thing she ever expected to see during her mindless swiping at 1am was her best friend’s Tinder profile. 

She knows it’s hypocritical to feel this way but she’s also not stupid. She and Fred both have had their fair share of dates and hookups thanks to dating apps- they’re in the twenties and single after all. But she can’t shake how weird she feels finding Fred. Like she’s stumbled across something private.

Y/N unlocks her phone again, curiosity eventually making her cave after staring at her ceiling blankly for way too long. 

‘Pros: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that's a good thing). Cons: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that’s a bad thing).’

It’s a short and simple bio, much like her own but she has to stifle a choked laugh. She and George’s girlfriend have said these to both the twins and she feels a sense of accomplishment that she can’t explain. Almost like Fred thinking of her while he sets up his dating profile means something. 

She hesitates a moment, debating between swiping left and never thinking about Fred and dating profiles ever again and swiping right just to see what happens. Y/N’s definitely making it a bigger issue than it has to be, which is why she doesn’t realise when George’s girlfriend and her roommate suddenly appears in her doorway holding chocolate.

“Em, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow?” She questions and the girl in the doorway shrugs, making her way into the room and sitting down without an invitation.

“I can vaguely hear you monologuing next door,” she laughs as she breaks a line of chocolate off the bar and hands it to Y/N. She groans, in her moment of panic she completely forgot about the fact it’s late and their bedroom walls are paper-thin. “All I heard was something about Fred and the word fuck. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” she winks and Y/N cringes, Em’s usual 15-year-old boy humour shining through as she pops the piece of chocolate in her mouth. 

“You’re hilarious,” Y/N says rolling her eyes but she can’t deny the fondness that’s there for her best friend. “No, you’re not interrupting anything, rather the opposite actually, look.” She passes her unlocked phone to Em and Y/N wishes she could have captured the shocked look on Em's face.

“Fred has a fucking active Tinder?” She’s quickly swiping through his profile and she hates to admit he has good pictures, but when she gets to his bio she snorts and rolls her eyes. “That’s something you say, Y/N.” 

Y/N feels her face go red at Em’s comment. She’s acknowledged this already but when someone else says it she feels like she isn’t being as far fetched as she’s convinced herself. While she outright refuses to acknowledge her feelings for Fred to anyone who isn’t herself, she knows Em knows without having to tell her. Call it best friend instinct, ‘dating-his-twin-brother’ instinct, whatever she pleases, which is why when there’s a mischievous glint in Em’s eyes, Y/N immediately is reaching for her phone. “No.”

Em whines, rolling onto her back. “Why not, you’re so boring!” 

“I am not swiping right on Frederick fucking Weasley.” She feels her face becoming warmer as she says it. Em gives her a look as if to say ‘I believe you’ with a glint in her eye that makes Y/N know she doesn’t. “I’m just never going to open the app again!”

Em rolls her eyes but the fond smile on her face is unmistakable. “And do what, love?” 

Y/N falters for a second before shrugging. “Not perceive his profile. It’ll be gone into the abyss of people who live in London and I’ll never think about it again.” She’s smiling, thinking she’s concocted the most perfect plan.

-----

It wasn’t the most perfect plan, for when Y/N is hanging out with Fred two days later she’s faced yet again with the ‘Tinder Predicament’ as dubbed by Em. Fred and Y/N are sitting in their favourite park, the new spring weather of London on their skin as they soak up the friendly sun rays after a harsh winter. Y/N is laying on her stomach, the book open but she’s barely reading as she pretends to listen to Fred ramble on about only God knows what. 

It’s 11am, not too early for the park to be empty but busy enough that other people are turning up, mostly couples. Y/N tunes Fred out, quickly getting lost in her own thoughts. Do other people think we’re a couple? she thinks to herself. She knows if Em could read her mind she’d say yes and Y/N is quick to push the thought out of her mind. 

Everything is interrupted when her phone lights up with a ‘You’ve got a new match!’ notification and before she can hide it from prying eyes, Fred’s wolf-whistling. 

“You’ve got dating apps, do ya, Y/L/N?” he teases and Y/N wants the Earth to swallow her up, she can’t think of a worse situation to be in. 

“Yeah, don’t you?” The second the words leave her mouth she regrets them. Fred’s smirking at her, a signature smirk of his he only does when she knows he’s up to something. Unfortunately for her, she is on the receiving end of that something.

“Something along the lines of ‘looking for a golden retriever boy?’. Ring any bells, darling?” Y/N feels her blood drain from her body and Fred releases a laugh that can only be described as a full-body chortle. “You know I have one, darling. Besides, you popped up last night. I already knew.” 

Y/N groans. This shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it feels but it’s Fred and knowing Fred has seen her dating profile was low on her wishes for this week, or for her entire life for that matter. 

“Did you at least swipe right on me?” 

It’s said with a teasing manner, falling right out of Y/N’s mouth before she can stop it. Her curiosity always gets the best of her and she wants to kick herself for it. But she doesn’t even notice Fred’s slight falter, the red tint kissing his cheeks and emphasising the freckles across his face at the comment. “You’ll have to swipe right on me to find out.” 

She can’t tell if he’s joking. But Fred is always joking. So she laughs and pushes him slightly, “If I come across your Tinder profile, I’m reporting it.” 

“It would be a blessing from the universe for you to come across my dating profile. I’m sure you’d appreciate my bio.” 

“Let me guess. ‘6’3 if it matters’?” Fred scowls looking down at her and she knows she looks way too proud for that comment but she doesn’t care and after a few seconds, Fred doesn’t care either. He starts to feel a small shred of jealousy from knowing Y/N has a Tinder profile, but he swallows it, tabling it for later when he isn’t with her.

“Why do you have the app?” He blurts out, annoyed at himself for letting it slip out. “Just… Curious, y’know?” He adds on when he notices Y/N looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t really want to know, but the words are out there and the cute scrunch of Y/N’s nose as she thinks of an answer almost makes it worth it.

“Male validation, mostly,” she laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck when she hears Fred laugh along with her. “I don’t know, Freddie.” She says, exasperatedly. “I barely use it. What about you?”

“Sex, if I’m honest.” Now it’s his turn to awkwardly laugh because he knows he answered that way too quickly and a little too honest for his own comfort. Y/N’s been his best friend for years, probably knows him best besides George but she didn’t really need to know he uses his Tinder profile to hook up with people. 

When Y/N doesn’t respond immediately, Fred takes it badly. He knows she would never judge him, not about anything and especially not this, but his thoughts get the best of him and sometimes he can’t help it. He has no idea Y/N is in her own head, jealous other girls get to hold Fred at a distance closer than she ever will. 

He clears his throat and checks his phone to see no notifications besides a direct message from Lee Jordan. He knows George isn’t expecting him home- cursing his brother when he remembers George demanded the flat to himself (and in turn, also Em) today for a few hours. “Hey, uh. I’ve gotta go. Emergency with George apparently.” 

He knows he shouldn’t have lied, it’s not even a good lie but it was the first thing he thought of. He notices Y/N’s eyebrows furrow before she shrugs, nodding before closing her book. “That’s okay, I was getting tired anyway. I might pop back to my flat for a nap.” 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Fred asks and his chest feels warm when Y/N meets his face with a smile. 

“Of course, Freddie.” 

She watches Fred leave, her thoughts getting the best of her. She knows for a fact there is no ‘George emergency’- she knows George is with Em probably being sick and in love and she’s sure Fred knows this too. The realisation Fred made an excuse to not spend time with her hits her like a truck, her mind frantically searching for what she could’ve possibly done to upset her best friend. 

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, the second she realises.

-----

To: Em > if you come home tonight dont mind me being drunk x 

Y/N sends the text as she stands in the kitchen, pouring herself her second glass of wine before it has even hit 6pm. On her way home, she stopped by the liquor store, picked up her favourite wine and decided to drink away the anxieties of upsetting Fred.

From: Em > ill be home. ill pick up chinese on the way. save me some wine!!! x

She smiles down at her phone, knowing Em would always be there without even realising it. She sits down on their couch and turns on the television- old reruns of early 2000s sitcoms playing on almost every channel. 

It’s 20 minutes late when Em turns up. She’s nursing the Chinese food as if it’s a child as she tries to unlock the front door without dropping the food or her bottle of wine. She smiles proudly at Y/N the second she gets in, putting the food on the table before she grabs her own wine glass. 

“What happened today?” 

Y/N is caught off guard but she shouldn’t be shocked. She doesn’t usually drink and when she does, it’s very rarely without Em. “Nothing’s wrong!” she says, skulling the rest of her wine when Em gives her a knowing look.

“You were with Fred today and now you’re sad drinking. What happened?” Usually, she loves when Em is her all-knowing best friend, but right now she wishes she’d shut up. 

“Nothing happened!” She’s adamant to not say too much. She knows it’s probably all in her head, that she and Fred will be fine in a few days but when Em gives her one more knowing look, she breaks. “Okay, fine. I think I upset him today.” 

Em’s confused, to say the least. Fred, for as long as she has known him, has never been upset with Y/N- even on accident. She has the tall redhead wrapped around her finger. “How?” she questions, because she truly can’t think of a single thing that Y/N could do to hurt him. 

Em places Y/N’s food in front of her when she starts speaking. “We were talking about Tinder- don’t give me that look he saw a notification and it came up and he asked why I had it. I said I don’t know and when I asked him, he said he uses it for sex,” Y/N says softly, pouring herself another glass of wine before continuing. “I didn’t say anything when he said that, because… Well… You know why.” 

Em does know. She knew the second she became Y/N’s roommate their first year of University that she had feelings for Fred and she knew immediately Fred liked her too but Y/N’s never believed her. “You think he got upset you didn’t say anything about sex?” 

“I think he thinks I was being judgemental.” Em sighs at Y/N’s response. She loves both her best friends- they’re her favourite people besides George but she knows they can be idiots. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the forks against their Chinese containers before Em grab’s Y/N’s phone, unlocking it.

“Well if Fred’s using Tinder for sex, so should you!” she says matter-of-factly and when Y/N groans from the kitchen sink, Em speaks again. “It’s true! He likes you but won’t tell you, you like him but won’t tell anyone! Who’s a good meaningless shag going to hurt?” 

That’s how they end up in Em’s bed, cuddling under the duvet with ice cream and Y/N’s Tinder profile open on her phone. “You’re so fucking picky, holy shit,” Em says when Y/N scrunches her nose up at the sixth consecutive guy. “It’s a shag, not a hand in marriage, love.”

“They don’t do it for me!” Y/N is avoiding the elephant in the room- that she’s comparing every guy that pops up to Fred. “I have to be attracted to them for this meaningless shag you’re preaching about… See, he’s cute!” His name’s Cormac, he’s 21 so only a few years younger than Y/N and he’s not bad looking. 

“He looks like a douchebag!” Em exclaims and Y/N groans. 

“You told me to stop being picky!” 

“Stop being picky doesn’t mean saying yes to the first conventionally attractive guy we see!” Em exclaims as she swipes left on poor Cormac. Y/N gets up to pour herself and Em one more glass of wine each and she hears Em starting giggling to herself when the new profile shows up, hiding the phone from Y/N’s eyes when she walks over. Without even questioning Y/N, Em swipes right and immediately she starts howling laughing. 

‘New Match!’ the screen reads and Y/N feels her breath hitch when snatches the phone from Em’s hands and she sees who she matched with.

Fred, 24. 2km away.

“I remembered after dinner, you said he told you to swipe right to see what he did,” Em says proudly, and Y/N regrets even mentioning it to Em offhandedly. Y/N’s eyes are transfixed on the tiny screen. There’s no way he seriously swiped right, she’s sure it’s only a joke- people jokingly match with their friends all the time. “So here you go, Freddie swiped right on my lil Y/N/N.” 

Y/N shakes her head at this. “I’m sure he only did it as a joke. People do that when they find their friends on Tinder all the time!” she says, sitting back down on the bed and cuddling up next to Em. “You were telling me to swipe right on him last night, after all.” 

Em looks at Y/N and sighs, clearly sensing how uncomfortable Y/N is feeling right now from the confrontation of her feelings for Fred. “I was telling you to swipe right because I know you’re in love with him,” she says softly, not missing the way Y/N’s eyes soften at the mention of her feelings for Fred. “I’m sorry if I’d known-”

“Don’t apologise! I’m just going to ignore the fact we matched,” she says softly, unlocking her phone and immediately exiting from Fred’s profile. The tension from a few moments ago quickly dissipates as Y/N receives another match, this time from a boy named Neville who Y/N knows is friends with Fred’s little brother. 

“When did you swipe on Nev?” Em asks and Y/N shrugs. She knows she probably did it to be funny, like what she thinks Fred’s done to her, but the more she thinks about it, Neville isn’t a bad match. He’s nice, friendly and now he’s in his twenties, he isn’t bad looking either.  

“Nev’s sweet. If he asked me out I’d say yes.” She says. She isn’t lying- there’s been times she’s considered going on dates to avoid her feelings for Fred, to get over him once and for all but whenever it gets to that point, she chickens out. “I know you want a meaningless shag, but I think maybe a date would be a good idea. You know?”

Em nods, pulling Y/N closer to cuddle her and suddenly feeling bad about preaching for meaningless sex. “Maybe you’re more of a date before shagging kind of girl, and that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

-----

Em’s fast asleep and Y/N’s overthinking next to her when she gets a message from a match. Y/N rolls her eyes when she sees the time reads 2am; knowing whoever's messaging at this time is just looking for a booty call but she opens the notification nonetheless.

From: Fred > i can be a golden retriever boy :) 

She smiles at the message, Fred’s presence always does that to her. She never expected him to message her on tinder considering she’s convinced it was just a joke swipe right, but this is probably just a joking message too. She checks his bio is still the same Aries joke before quickly replying.  

To: Fred > good thing im a big aries fan then ;)  > how tall are you though? im sure youre well aware it matters

She hopes Fred laughs at her messages because making Fred laugh is her favourite pastime. The three dots signalling Fred’s typing pops up and her heart starts to race.

From: Fred

> im 7’5 if its that important :/ 

She giggles and when doesn’t know how to reply after that, she exits out of their messages, but it’s not like she has to keep a conversation with Fred going. She’s trying to think of a funny message to send Fred when she gets another message; this time from Neville.

From: Neville > hi Y/N! i hope this isnt a weird time to message you, i just finished grading some work. i was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime this week? we were kind of friends at school, after all, and it’ll be nice to catch up :) 

The message from Neville is sweet, and she almost feels guilty reading it. Attached is his number and everything and Y/N feels her throat closing up. She would feel terrible going on a date with Neville despite what she claimed earlier, knowing her heart currently belongs to Fred. 

But Fred’s lack of interest in her is eating at her as much as her own feelings for him do, and she knows she deserves better than to sit around and wait for him any longer. If Em was awake the date would already be confirmed, she knows that much so she decides to say yes to Neville, to at least put herself out there. She can imagine the little Devil version of Em dancing on her shoulder as she begins to type out a reply to Neville.

She doesn’t even think to look at who it’s being sent to before clicking send. But by then it’s too late- she doesn’t even know how she ended up back in Fred’s messages but now she wants to roll up into a ball and die.

To: Fred > hi neville! id love to grab dinner one day, here’s my number and we can organise it tomorrow because im going to bed now! x

She’s staring at the message for so long she doesn’t even notice the ‘???’ she gets back from Fred. She quickly copies and pastes the message to the right recipient this time before plugging in her phone and rolling over to sleep.

Em’s slight snoring lulls her to sleep, thoughts of Fred filling her mind before she passes out for the night. What she doesn’t know is that while she falls asleep, Fred lays awake, staring at his ceiling. Contemplating the knowledge he has knowing Y/N’s potentially organising a date with one of  his little brother’s best friends. 

-----

Fred hates this feeling; this feeling of jealousy in his stomach that’s threatening to spill out of his throat. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Y/N accidentally messaging him about a date with another person all morning and he knows George is getting annoyed with him. 

“Why are you being such a prat this morning?” George had asked when Fred scowled at his brother for simply standing in the kitchen. Fred had huffed as a reply, grabbing the milk for his tea before sitting down at their table to munch on his toast.

“Not being a prat,” he says, words muffled by the food in his mouth and George gives him a disgusted look before taking a bite of his own toast. “Do you remember Neville Longbottom?” 

George nods, of course, he knows Neville. “Ron’s friend? Super nice bloke. Think him and Hannah Abbott just broke up, why?” 

Fred shrugs, he’s almost positive it’s the same Neville now. “Think Y/N’s going on a date with him, that’s all.” When George raises his eyebrows, Fred speaks again, “Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t going on a date with a prat.”

“Wanted to know who she is going on a date with in general, more like it,” George mutters under his breath. He knows Fred better than he knows anybody, better than he knows his girlfriend and almost better than he knows himself. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

Fred squints at George. “Why would I be jealous?” Fred stands and makes his way to the kitchen to wash up his dishes and he almost drops them in the sink when George speaks again.

“Because you’re in love with Y/N?” He says it so casually Fred almost chokes on air. He’s never thought about himself and Y/N in that way. Sure they like to cuddle when they’re drunk and they spend every waking moment together but he’s not in love with Y/N.

Is he?

“What makes you say that?” Fred asks quietly, hoping to hide the red blush forming on his cheeks. George might be his best friend and twin brother but he knows he would never live it down admitting he has feelings for Y/N. 

“You two are worse than Em and I, and we’re actually dating,” George speaks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “When Em first met Y/N, she asked how long you and she had been together for, mate.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Fred says a little too quickly. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t, Freddie,” George smirks as he speaks, getting up to wash his dishes now. Fred stands in the kitchen, nursing his cup of tea as he contemplates George’s words. Sure, he always knew he had some kind of feelings for his best friend, but being in love was another whole ordeal. It means wanting long term commitment, probably a house together, maybe marriage, perhaps kids if Y/N wanted them and the longer Fred sits with these in his mind, he quickly realises he does want all that and even more with Y/N. He’s probably wanted it with her for a while and he just hasn’t ever realised.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, low enough for George not to hear but when Fred doesn’t have a rebuttal to George’s words he knows he’s accidentally sent Fred into an existential crisis. 

“Look, Fred. If Y/N going on a date bothers you, you need to tell her.” George knows he’s about to cross some lines that he promised himself he would never cross but it’s getting dire in his eyes. “Y/N likes you and deep down you know you like her too, even if you’re oblivious. She deserves to know and if you’re too much of a chicken to admit it to her, then you don’t get to be bothered about her going on a date with Neville Longbottom.” 

Fred huffs. He knows George is right, but he can’t help but feel like he truly noticed too late. He swiped right on her on Tinder hoping she would swipe right back and they could go from there. But he knows Y/N only swiped right to see if he had done it first, that she only swiped right out of curiosity and right now, Fred is cursing the app under his breath. 

“Well, fine, yes I like Y/N, but I can’t just stop her from going on a date. That’s controlling and mean.” Fred states and George just sighs. “I’ll talk to her after her date, if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

George stares at him. “Since when are you mister Que sera, sera, Freddie?” Fred shrugs, not understanding the reference George made. “Since when are you just letting it happen?” George translates when he notices the blank stare on Fred’s face.

“Since right now. I don’t want to come off controlling to Y/N.” Fred says. In actuality, even though he knows George would never lie to him, he’s scared. Y/N is his best friend and the last thing he ever wants to do is ruin his closest friendship all because of some jealousy. 

“Okay fine, but if she gets a boyfriend, I’m sorry mate,” George says and he knows putting the threat of losing Y/N romantically on the line is harsh, but it’s what he has to do. He’s watched the pair pine for each other for years and he’s sure this is the last straw. 

“We’re going out with the lads in a few days, by the way! Maybe you can stop moping enough for a shag!” George calls out and Fred flips him the finger as he walks off to his bedroom. 

-----

Y/N and Neville decide on getting dinner together three days later. It’s a Friday so neither of them has to worry about work or coursework the next day, which is perfect. Neville tells Y/N about his favourite Italian restaurant right near Old Street subway station in Shoreditch, so that’s where the pair decide to meet. 

It’s rather busy when Y/N gets to the station. Neville has apologised profusely for still being fifteen minutes away but she reassures him it’s fine and that she’ll meet him outside the station so they can walk to the restaurant together. 

Y/N’s on her phone, texting Em and telling her she’s safe when she feels a presence next to her. She tenses up quickly but she soon relaxes when she looks at the person next to her and realises it’s Fred. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling. She hasn’t seen him since the day in the park, but they’ve texted and called so she’s sure everything is fine. “What are you doing all the way on this side of London?” 

Fred smiles and shoves his hands in his jeans pocket before replying, “Grabbing a drink with the lads tonight, love. What about you?” His tone is casual and Y/N has to stop herself from checking him out. He’s dressed in a nice dress shirt, it’s orange and on anyone else, it would clash with his hair but Fred somehow manages to pull it off. He’s got a black jacket over the top of his shirt, alongside black jeans that show off his long and muscular legs on and his outfit is paired off with a pair of boots on his feet. 

He’s not making it easy to get over him, that’s for sure. 

“I’ve got a date,” she’s shy when she says it, looking away from Fred and then back down at her phone. The time reads 6:47pm and Neville’s train will be getting in any second now. She’s trying to get over Fred and the last thing she needs is Fred lingering when said date turns up. 

“Ah yes, with Neville, if I remember correctly,” Fred’s teasing and Y/N has to force a laugh out. She blocked out the fact she’d accidentally messaged him instead of Neville and was hoping he would forget as well. But this is Fred she was talking about, and Fred never lets up a chance to tease Y/N for something.

“Yeah, Neville Longbottom,” she says and she catches the look of recognition that flashes across Fred’s face. “He was friends with your brother in school.” 

Fred nods in acknowledgement while he can’t decide whether or not he’s happy with the confirmation that he was right. He’s sad and jealous, that much is obvious, but he’s a little happy. Happy that even though Y/N is going on a date with someone who isn’t himself, it’s someone he knows would treat her like she deserves. 

“Neville’s a good guy, I’m happy for you,” he forces out and Y/N smiles up at Fred and he wants to sink into the Earth. The smile on her face is one he wants to be the cause for forever. “I should get going, tell Nev hello for me!”

He pulls Y/N into a quick hug, presses a quick kiss absentmindedly on the top of her head before letting her go and crossing the street and making his way to the bar he’s meeting Lee, George, Harry and Ron at. 

Y/N watches him leave, dumbfounded. The kiss on the top of her head is nothing less than usual; Fred’s always been touchy with her but now it feels weird. All she wants is to call out to Fred and demand the redhead take her on a date instead. 

But before Y/N can do anything drastic, she hears Neville call out her name and she turns around quickly. He’s just as sweet and cute as she remembers and even if she wishes Fred was the boy she was on a date with, Neville is someone she would be friends with above anything. 

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” He says when he reaches her, kissing her cheek as Y/N pulls him into a hug. His presence is comforting and he smells like cinnamon and Y/N feels herself instantly relax.

“Not too long!” She replies as she begins walking towards the restaurant with Neville. During Spring, the cold weather still returns at night so their hands are shoved inside their jacket pockets to keep warm but they’re walking closely together. “I ran into Fred just before, so he kept me company.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Neville says as he grabs the door to the restaurant, “can’t have a pretty girl waiting outside a subway station alone.” Y/N feels her cheeks heat up at his comment. 

They’re quickly seated and wine is ordered. They’ve been placed in a booth right near the window, where they’re able to watch the City of London go by. “How’s teaching going?” Y/N asks when she remembers Neville recently graduated and got an immediate job offer at the Agriculture department at a college in Surrey. 

“It’s going well! I specifically teach the floriculture courses so I love it, of course,” Neville’s smile couldn’t get any wider. Y/N specifically remembers his constant fascination with plants and flowers in school and she couldn’t be happier for him to be doing what he so clearly loves, “What about you?” 

“Being hammered by my postgrad coursework,” she says, laughing and taking a sip of her wine. “My job at the bookstore near my flat doesn’t suck but I definitely don’t work as much as I used to, unfortunately.” Neville raises his glass, almost to say I’ll drink to that when the waiter comes over to take their order.

Dinner goes quickly, conversation flows easily between the two and soon enough the bill arrives and Neville grabs the cheque before Y/N can even say anything. “You can grab it next time.” 

Y/N falters at this. She knows she should say something to Neville; that this has been nice but there won’t be a second date. She’s too caught up in her panic and she’s beginning to curse Fred Weasley under her breath when Neville gently places his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the restaurant. 

“Are you okay?” Neville asks when they get outside. He noticed the tensed look on Y/N’s face the second they got outside and when she nods and sighs he takes it as a sign to stop walking.

“This has been nice, Nev,” she starts and she feels terrible even though she knows it’s better, to be honest. “But I don’t think I’m-”

“Ready for a relationship?” Neville finishes for her, and he’s not condescending when he says it. He could tell even before dinner was finished that she probably felt that way and he doesn’t mind. “I don’t think I am either. But this was fun, was it not?” 

Y/N nods, smiling as the anxieties of hurting Neville wash away. “It was fun!” she says, “I hope we can do it again. Even as friends?” 

He nods back, a warm smile gracing his cheeks. “Of course.”

They walk back to the station together, promises of seeing each other again soon leaves their mouths as they walk to their respective platforms. 

From: Neville  > thanks for tonight. i forgot to mention, please tell me when you’re home safe!

She smiles down at the text, shooting Neville a reply of reassurance that she will before opening her messages with Em to let her know she’s on her way home. She’s jumping through her apps, Snapchat that she only uses for filters, Facebook she only uses to check the ‘Dogspotting’ group until she lands on Instagram. 

She sees a story from George and when she opens it, she immediately regrets it. It’s their friendship group, that much she expected but she sees a girl sitting next to Fred nursing what looks like a Gin and Tonic and Y/N feels sick. 

She immediately closes the app, pretending she didn’t see it. She has no right to be upset over this but it plagues her thoughts for the entire subway trip home.

That’s when she decides she’s going to demand answers from Fred. She doesn’t know how, or when or if she’ll even do it without Em forcing her to, but she knows she deserves better. That she doesn’t deserve to hang on the end of every touch, every word of Fred’s in hopes he’ll hold her closer than arm's length while she desperately wants more. 

-----

The next night, Fred’s laying on his couch in an uncomfortable position searching Netflix at 10pm when he hears a knock at the front door. He knows it isn’t George, or any member of his family for that matter and any normal person would ring before coming over this late at night. So when Fred gets up and looks through his peephole to ensure he’s not about to be murdered, he’s shocked to see an angry-looking Y/N.  

He opens the door and she’s immediately inside, pushing past Fred’s body and when she turns around, she has the most determined look on her face he’s ever seen. 

“I’m annoyed at you.” Fred’s taken aback, he tries to think back at their interaction the evening before, trying to piece together anything that would annoy Y/N but he’s coming up blank.

“What did I do?” He wearily asks and when Y/N purses her lips together and looks like she’s about to cry Fred has to resist the urge to apologise without knowing what he needs to apologise for.

“I’m annoyed at you because,” she pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I’m annoyed because I went on a date last night. I went on a date with the loveliest man I’ve ever met. And I spent the whole fucking time wishing I was on a date with you. And I’ve spent all of today debating coming over here and telling you that so I drank half of Em’s bottle of wine for some liquid courage and here I fucking am!” 

That’s the last thing Fred was expecting to come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Well, that’s not-” 

“I’m not finished.” She stares at Fred and he immediately shuts up. 

“I’ve been in love with you for years and it’s not fair on me anymore, Freddie.” Her voice is shaking like she needs to get everything out as soon as possible. “I need to know if you feel anything for me, even in the slightest, because if I need to move on, I’m begging you to be honest with me.” 

Fred feels his heartbreak at how sweet, how broken, how defeated Y/N looked standing in front of him right now. He can see the need for an honest answer swimming in Y/N’s eyes and he’s never felt braver to admit his feelings than he does right now.

“I’m an idiot,” Y/N scoffs but lets him continue, “because I didn’t realise how fucking in love with you I am until I almost lost you. I thought…” he pauses, looking for the right words and when his eyes meet Y/N’s, there’s a softness there that wasn’t there previously. “I thought what we had was normal; the cuddling, the constant need to be with each other, the constant subtle touches. But George knocked some sense into me.” Y/N lets out a breath as she laughs, of course, it was George’s doing.

“I’m in love with you, and I think I have been since we were 17. So I’m so fucking sorry, for ever letting you think you meant any less to me, my love.” 

Y/N’s eyes are overflowing with tears at his words and Fred panics for a second before he sees the biggest and most loving smile overtake Y/N’s face. “Fucking hell, you big dummy.” 

She crosses the room, quicker than she’s ever moved before and pulls Fred’s 6’3 frame into her arms. She feels Fred pull her away, only slightly, so he can look down into her eyes and cup her cheek with his hand. His thumb is providing comfort as it strokes across her cheek and wiping away any stray tears. 

She cups the outside of his hand with her own and brings her face to the side to kiss his palm. This is the closest the two have ever been and both their hearts feel like they could beat out of their chests at any moment. It’s the adrenaline from this moment that causes Fred to blurt out his next question, without any hesitation.

“Can I please kiss you before I die?” 

Y/N laughs as she looks up at Fred. She doesn’t even give him an answer, she just pulls the tall boy down before locking their lips together. They’ve both kissed plenty of people, had many first kisses whether it be with first dates or partners but they can both agree this is the best kiss either of them has ever experienced. 

Y/N is pouring everything she can into the kiss, knowing she will never get tired of the taste of caramel that she will forever associate with kissing the love of her life. She presses her lips harder against his, her tongue running along Fred’s chapped lips asking for more before he opens his mouth to massage his tongue with hers. 

Fred decides to be a tease, pulling back slightly before capturing her lips again and biting her bottom lip slightly. This action pulls a moan from Y/N’s throat, soft enough that Fred almost misses it but he can’t help but smirk into the kiss. He wants nothing more than to kiss Y/N for the rest of his life, but eventually, he has to pull away to catch his breath and the whine that leaves Y/N’s mouth might be the cutest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

“I hope to God you know I’m never letting you kiss anyone else ever again, holy shit,” she says, cheeks flushed red and when she looks at Fred she thinks she’s fallen even further in love with him. His hair’s messy, thanks to her running her hands through it and his lips are slightly swollen. She thinks this might be the most beautiful she’s ever seen Fred in her life and if this is how gorgeous he looks after a few minutes of kissing, she’s secretly anticipating how gorgeous he’s going to look laying in her bed, naked. 

Fred smiles dopily down at her, “Don’t worry darling, I never want to be with someone who isn’t you ever again.”

[ponderinqs]

Pushed Away || JJ Maybank

pairing: jj x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, underage drinking, angst, gun usage, SLOW BURN!!!

word count: 3.3k

summary: you’re best friends with jj, but something happens one day, leaving you and the rest of the group confused and worried about him. what happened to him? did you do something to hurt him? or maybe, there’s something rather... emotional going on inside him. something he’s never felt for anyone before in his life.

a/n: here’s me apologizing for not posting this WAYYY sooner. listen,, i got huge writers block for a very long time, and i wasn’t feeling up to anything obx. but now that season 2 has come out, and the fact that i’m at the beach right now (approximately 2 hours away from where they film outer banks), i finally have some motivation to write. soooo yeahhhh. hope you enjoy LMFAOOO. also, read the other parts if u haven’t already!

unedited. please excuse any typos :)

comment if you want tagged !! :)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

—————————

It’s been about four days since your friends found out about your past. A week since you spoke to any of them.

When you came home that night after seeing Rafe, you and your mother got into a screaming fit over how she needs to stop trying to change you back to who you used to be.

“You don’t get to tell me who I am! I get to choose that!” You yelled, finger pointed at your mother.

“Excuse me?! I am your mother! I can do whatever I need to do to get you to stop turning into someone you’re not!” Now your mother was screaming at you, probably waking the neighbors.

“Life was better when dad was here! Now you’re just a pathetic excuse as a mother!!” You felt regretful for the words that left your mouth, but in the heat of the moment, it felt like the right thing to do.

You felt a hand come across your cheek. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, young lady!”

She left the house shortly after you two fought. Your mother has been gone for a few days, which left you holed up in your room, alone, letting the nasty thoughts fog your brain.

You groaned as you got out of your bed, trudging to the bathroom to see how awful you looked. Your hair was disheveled and you looked like absolute shit. “God…” You whispered, letting your fingers graze your cheek. You winced as you felt a slight sting from the movement. It was still sore, and even if there wasn’t much of a mark anymore, you could still see a slight red tint to it.

You finally decided it was time to leave the house. The sun was beginning to set, but you didn’t want to be holed up in your house for another day. After cleaning up and looking somewhat normal, you walked downstairs and went to open the door, but someone was at the door, just about to knock. It was Pope, looking frantic and scared.

“Y/N! Hi!” He pulled you into a quick hug. “You gotta come quick, there’s something wrong with JJ.” He looked at you, scanning your face for any response, when he saw the slightly reddened cheek mark.

“Who did that?” He spoke softly, his finger touching the mark lightly. “My mother.” You sighed. You didn’t feel like worrying everyone, but it was already happening.

“We can talk about this later, okay? But c'mon, we gotta go.” He nudged his head to his car as the both of you made your way over to the car.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong with him?” You spoke after a few minutes of pure silence while Pope drove. “I really don’t know. He went back home last night and something must’ve happened there. You’re like the only one that can get him to calm down.” He smiled at you as he pulled into the Chateau.

You both got out and walked towards the front, where JJ was seen pacing back and forth, Kiara and John B just watching him. They both saw you and stared, not saying a word.

JJ turned around and saw you, the two of you making eye contact. He stopped pacing, and you saw the sun shine through his beautiful hair, but you also noticed more cuts and bruises scattered around his pretty face.

You approached him with caution, looking into his ocean blue eyes the entire time. The two of you didn’t speak any words, but somehow you still calmed JJ down. You grabbed both of his arms as you looked at his face, examining each and every cut and bruise.

Instead of speaking, you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his torso tightly, resting your head on his chest. He was hesitant at first, but he also wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in your neck.

You felt wetness on your skin, making you hug him even tighter. JJ let out a choked sob, still holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping him from completely losing it. You stroked his back, your eyes watering as you listened to him cry into you.

“I can’t do it.” He mumbled into your neck in between sobs. Your heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time this week. And again, you couldn’t do anything to help him, which made you feel helpless. All you could do was stand here and hug your best friend, hoping something would make everything stop hurting.

JJ went limp in your arms as the two of you fell to the ground, JJ covering his face with his hands and he continued to cry. “JJ..” You whispered softly, grabbing him and holding him to your chest. You ran your hand through his hair a few times, trying to get him to calm down.

You looked around at the other Pogue members, signaling that they need to give you two a minute. They understood and nodded, walking into the Chateau and closing the door behind them.

After they were gone, you moved JJ away from you as you pulled his hands away from his face. Your foreheads rested against each other’s, the two of you not daring to break eye contact.

His eyes were red and puffy, tears still streaming down his face. He looked at you with his sad eyes as you felt raindrops beginning to fall on the top of your head.

Soon it was beginning to rain even harder, but the two of you just sat outside, staring at each other and not speaking a word. “I can’t deal with him anymore..” JJ’s voice cracked at the end, letting out another choked sob.

You cupped his face with your hands, kissing his forehead lightly. As you pulled his face away, he noticed the faint cheek mark on your face. “Who.. who did that?” He said quietly, his hand coming up to touch it.

Shivers went down your spine as you felt his touch, along with a slight sting. “Shit.” You hissed, looking down at the ground.

“It was your mother, wasn’t it?” He moved his dripping wet hair out of his face, looking into your eyes.

You nodded slowly right as a bolt of lightning cracked in the air. Thunder boomed through the atmosphere within seconds, and the two of you shared the same look. “Let’s go inside, okay?” You grabbed his hand and helped him stand as the two of you went inside.

The three friends looked up at the sound of the door closing, seeing the both of you drenched with your hands still intertwined.

You squeezed his hand, leading him to the extra bedroom. You watched the fragile boy lie down on the bed, turning his back to you.

You turned around and went back out to the rest of your friends. “Um, we’re gonna stay here tonight.” You shuffled your feet.

“Everyone is staying here. The hurricane is coming through right now.” John B sat on one of the couches, finally looking up at you.

You nodded. “He’s gonna be okay, Y/N. Just give him time.” Kiara looked up at you, giving you a slight smile.

You sighed and made your way to the bathroom and grabbed a few towels before you returned to the extra room, seeing JJ in the same position that he was in when you left him.

“Hey, I got some towels so we can dry off.” You got onto the bed and set the towels in front of you. JJ turned around and sat up, grabbing a towel and drying off his hair.

“Do you have extra clothes here?” You asked, and JJ just simply nodded, pointing to the worn down dresser across from the bed. You stood up and walked over, opening it and finding some random clothes for you and JJ.

You tossed JJ a random marina shirt, and a pair of shorts. You found a blue shirt and some sweats, and put them onto the bed. “Well, close your eyes.” You grinned at him, and JJ smirked before covering his eyes with his hand.

You stripped from your wet shirt and tossed it to the corner of the room, making a note to wash it tomorrow. When you looked at JJ, he was peeking out of his hand. “Maybank!!” You giggled as you hurriedly put the shirt on.

“Well, I like the view.” He commented, making the heat rise up to your cheeks. You shook your head and pulled off the drenched pants you had on, rushing to put on the sweatpants.

“Keep em off.” He smirked, his hands now completely away from his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” You finished changing and got into bed, JJ now getting up and changing. “Do I need to close my eyes?” You spoke as if you were a little child.

“That’s up to you.” He smirked again. You decided not to as you watched him slowly peel his wet shirt off of his body.

Without realizing it, you were biting your lip and staring at his defined torso. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” JJ laughed, pulling the dry shirt onto him and then taking off his drenched shorts.

Seeing JJ in his boxers was something you never thought you would witness, but I guess it had to happen sometime, right? He slid on his shorts and got back into bed.

Rain pattered against the window, along with the occasional lightning strikes and thunder. The two of you sat in the darkness for what felt like hours.

“Why did your mother slap you?” JJ spoke, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite explain.

“I called her a pathetic excuse for a mother. So she slapped me. Then she left.” You turned to face JJ, your faces inches away from each other.

“Why didn’t you come to see us? You were gone for a long time, or at least a long to the three of us. We were all scared and confused.” JJ’s hand moved to rest on your cheek, staring at you. Even in total darkness, he could make out your features.

“I didn’t want to. I thought you guys hated me.” You relaxed into his touch, sighing.

“We don’t hate you, Y/N. We are all just a little disappointed that you never told us.” He moved a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

The tension was thick, and it scared you. You’ve never been this vulnerable to each other. JJ never let his guard down, and neither did you. The time you shared outside was something that has never happened before.

“Do you feel better?” You spoke softly, wondering if that was the right thing to say. You didn’t know if you were overstepping any boundaries the two of you had. A lightning bolt lit up the sky, followed by a large boom of thunder as JJ began to talk.

“Yeah.. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He shrugged it off and pulled the thin blanket up to his chest. You gave him a confused look. “JJ, I will always worry about you. That’s what friends do. We always look after each other and make sure the other one is okay.” You scooted yourself closer to him. You felt him shiver as your arm grazed his.

“Just don’t bother worrying about me, okay? I’ll survive.” His finger reached up to his face to touch the multiple cuts and bruises on his face. You heard him wince as the wind picked up outside.

Rain began rapidly pattering against the window, wind shaking the trees and scraping up against the side of the shack.

“JJ look.. I’m sorry for going full ghost on you guys for that long. I should’ve let you all know that I was okay.” You whispered, your hand resting on his shoulder as you laid your side to look at him.

“Nah I get it. I do it too.” JJ shrugged. You stared into his blue eyes, trying to figure out what was going on inside of that beautiful brain of his. He was too focused on the storm outside to realize that you were staring at him. When he finally made eye contact with you, your heart seemed to have skipped a beat.

“What?” He asked, his voice soft and caring. “Nothing.” You mumbled and laid down, getting comfortable with your pillow and the blanket you were currently sharing with JJ.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” JJ said before he turned on his side and tried to fall asleep. You were facing his back, your eyes glued to him. Slowly but surely your eyes closed and you both fell asleep to the sound of the wind and rain outside.

-

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you felt a heavy weight on your chest. Looking down, you saw JJ sleeping on you, his hand draped across your stomach with soft snores emitting from his mouth. You smiled and brushed some hair out of his face. You inspected his small cuts and bruises on his face, your index finger grazing each and every one of them.

Soon JJ’s eyes peeled open and he looked up at you. “What are you doing?” He mumbled, his eyes darting to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Good morning.” You replied, moving your finger away from his face. JJ rolled himself off of you and got out of bed, mumbling a ‘good morning’ before he exited the room and went to find the others. You followed him shortly after, finding no one in the living room.

“Uh.. guys?” JJ questioned, walking around the small boat house as he tried to find his friends. You then spotted John B outside, along with Kiara and Pope. “JJ, they’re outside.” You spoke before walking outside.

You looked around at the damage the hurricane had caused. Branches and twigs were scattered around the yard, along with a lot of random debris covering most of the grass. “Holy shit. She really did a number.” JJ admitted, walking around the yard, stepping on some twigs and picking random stuff up.

“Yeah, no kidding.” John B replied, his hands on his hips as he looked around at all the damage.

Surprisingly, the Chateau didn’t take much damage. You had noticed a bucket sitting on the floor earlier, so there must be a leak. Other than that, there wasn’t much else that needed repairing.

Suddenly, your phone in your pocket started to ring. Grabbing it, you saw the caller ID and it showed that it was your mom. “You have to be kidding me.” You muttered under your breath.

Catching your friends’ attention, they all turned to look at you. “Your mom?” Pope asked, wincing to himself once you nodded.

You answered the call and put your phone up to your ear. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She screamed through the phone.

“What do you mean?” You kept your voice calm and controlled, because you knew if you raised your voice this phone call would be a lot worse than it already is.

“Leaving the house when I’m not there?! Doing god knows what with those low life’s?!” Your mom responded through the phone, her voice getting increasingly louder by the second.

“First of all, you left me!! What the hell was I supposed to do holed up in that house?! And I have told you this time and time again, they are not low lifes!” You retaliated back, making sure that your mom knew that she was in the wrong.

“That’s what you think.” She responded flatly. You just scoffed. “You make me sick, mom. You really do.” You responded, beginning to walk around in circles.

“You need to come back home. I mean it.” Your mom responded sternly. She could do anything, but nothing would tear you away from your real family.

“No. I am not coming back home for a while.” You shook your head, making eye contact with Kie.

“Excuse me? Yes you are. I will send the cops after you if I have to.” She responded, now raising her voice yet again.

“I cannot believe how disrespectful you are right now, mom. No, I am not coming home. You have given me so many reasons to not come home. I am going to stay here where I am more loved. Fuck off.” You yelled and ended the call, not caring about what she had to respond with.

“God, Y/N, I am so sorry you have to deal with her. That’s horrible.” Kiara walked up to you and gave you a hug. You hugged her back, resting your head on her shoulder.

The rest of the Pogues soon surrounded you and hugged you. You smiled as everyone hugged you.

-

About 30 minutes later, everyone was standing around a large fire that had started to burn all the twigs and branches scattered across the yard, when a Range Rover pulled up next to John B’s van.

You were not surprised when you saw Rafe get out of the car. “Oh hell no..” John B scoffed, walking over to Rafe.

“John B.. John B. Relax. I’m just here for Y/N.” Rafe smirked as he looked over at you, holding his hand out to stop John B.

“Rafe. Get out of here.” You told him, staying near JJ just in case he tries to do something.

“I got you, I got you.” JJ whispered in your ear, placing his hands on your hips as he held you close.

“It was your mom again.” Rafe’s voice got louder as he started to walk closer to you.

“I don’t care about her. Now leave.” Your heartbeat began to rise as he got closer and closer.

“Nah, I don’t think I will do that.” Rafe was now four feet in front of you.

“Hey, buddy, back it up!!” JJ yelled, staring at Rafe to make sure he doesn’t make any sudden movements.

“Aw look, you have a bodyguard. How adorable. You know, Y/N, me and you had history. I used to be your bodyguard. Isn’t that right?” Rafe smirked at you.

Before anyone could react, Rafe grabbed you by the arm and pulled you towards him. He held you close to his back, his arm locked across your chest.

“You dickhead!” JJ screamed and ran over to grab you.

Suddenly, Rafe pulled out a gun, causing everyone to stop in their tracks.

He clocked the gun at you, the barrel sitting right on your head. You gasped, tears trickling down your face.

“Tell them, Y/N. Tell them what we were.” Rafe said, smirking as he looked around at the group.

“Put down the gun and I will!!” You yelled, only causing Rafe to push the gun onto your head more. You let out a yell.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you just better tell them now.” Rafe looked down at you, smirking.

“Me and Rafe,” you sniffled, looking down at the ground. “we had.. history. More than what I have told you. We… we dated.” You let out a choked sob.

Rafe slowly moved the gun away from your head. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He grinned, stilling holding you close to his body.

All of the Pogues looked at you in disbelief. You couldn’t even find it in you to look at JJ.

“Cmon, Y/N. Let’s go.” Rafe gave your friends a little wave before he walked over to his car with you and shoved you into the passenger seat.

You were unable to fight him. You gave up, just staring at the floor of the car.

As Rafe started the car up, your friends started to run after you. Rafe quickly backed up out of his spot and peeled away. The last thing you saw out of the passenger side window was JJ, looking scared and very upset.