#see if it let me start the prompts with something other than 'this barbie is' i could have made them so much funnier | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

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rating: T (for cursing and drug use)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 2160

summary: in order to make a fundraising event bearable, you and Dieter take edibles. When the event runs long, your only chance to make it out alive is to find something to eat.

warnings: drug use (it’s just edibles c’mon you narc), eating, the munchies, messy kissing, dieter bravo being a giant goofball and i hate him, this fic is so self-indulgent i'm embarrassed FOR you, FLUFF

a/n: this one kicked my butt, idk why. But @ravensmadreads says its good so here you go. For my 100 followers event (this is the last one! wow!): @sp00kymulderr asked: Taylor!! Congrats on 100, you’re my favourite blog honestly I check your posts every day just to read your tags lmao. For the celebration can I request some of our sweet boy Dieter with the prompt “We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.” it’s absolutely perfect

🤍Masterlist

After thirty minutes, your eyes are starting to cross. Your high-ribbed dress pinches the soft skin under your tits and the boob tape is starting to chafe your nipples. The ruby red heels have officially given you blisters but the worst – the absolute worst of it – you’re fucking starving.

And the Layaway Barbie at the podium marches on, her big eyes wet and her mouth begging, as she proves to a roomful of donors why they should spend another million in . . . tree-frog rehabilitation. Dieter had been drawn to the little green guys with red eyes on the front of the invitation and as the guest of honor for his “philanthropic” work when he was “dating” a Doctor Without (personal) Borders six years ago, how could he not go?

Let’s take an edible before we go, he said.

Whatever the vibe, it’ll be better if we’re on edibles, honey.

That is the last time you let him convince you of anything while he’s not wearing pants and his hand is down yours.

Your stomach grumbles and you fight back a whine. You make a noise like that and someone will definitely know you’re on drugs. The portly man next you has been staring at you with poorly hidden disgust all night as it is. But for now, his eyes focus in on Layaway Barbie, his loose jowls around his permanently down-turned mouth reminding you of a cartoon character. But which one?

Your eyes narrow at him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and it comes to you.

“Droopy!” you yelp and immediately clap your hand over your mouth. Your table mates eye you as if you are some society dredge they did not wish to involve themselves with.

You turn as best you can in your seat, ready to either be scolded by Dieter or have him laugh with you, but he does neither.

In fact, cross-armed, low in his seat, he lets out a low snore.

It’ll be fun, he said.

“Dieter!” You hiss. Nothing. His face is relaxed, lips parting as he falls deeper asleep. Irate you didn’t think of it first, you smack him across the knee. “Dieter!”

He jerks, eyelids cracking open briefly, and suddenly he drops his chin again.

“Thank you for your blessing and influence, oh Lord. Am— oh, hey, baby, what’s up?”

“Don’t ‘hey, baby, what’s up’ me. You were asleep and you just faked praying.”

“Better than faking other things,” he yawns loudly, blinks a bit, and realizes the “inspiring” speech (and presentation) is still going on. “Oh, fuck, we’re gonna die here.”

“Can you please keep it down?�� The woman to Dieter’s right snaps. “You are making a mockery of a serious and pressing issue facing our society.”

Dieter blinks at her, his arms still across his chest. You can hear the bitch climb up his throat before he even opens his mouth.

“Well, you’re making a mockery of that dress and you don’t see me complaining–,”

You snag him by the hand and pull him away from the table before the woman has the good sense to throw her drink into his face.

He stumbles behind you as you push on the metal bar, the latch clicking, and you both tumble out into the empty hotel hallway. When the event started, everyone had been herded in from the other doors, where the lobby was. This looks like the kind of hallway drunk co-eds wander down while trying to find the bathroom after prom.

Which – ironically –

His big paw clutches your waist as he falls, or rather, stumbles into a tacky maroon and gold wall. In the fumbling under his legs as they overtake you, and keeping the rim of your heels from biting into your already puckered flesh, he manages to pin you beneath him. The instant the smell of his cologne washes over you, the instinct to claw his stupid eyes out evaporates. You sigh, both of his hands cupping your neck.

“Mhmm, there she is,” he murmurs, sing-song, kissing your nose. “Little hellcat turns baby kitten when she gets what she needs.”

“You are the biggest idiot I know,” you purr into his ear as his hands slide through the layers of your skirt to your ass.

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.” The cry you let out when he pinches your ass cheek beneath your dress is all the answer he needs.

Hands full of your thighs, he rubs you up the wall but there’s too many layers, too much gossamer to get him where you need him. His breath comes in short pants as he presses sloppy, wet kisses to your shoulder, your clavicle, your cheek.

There it comes again. Hunger. Driven on by –

You bite him.

“Ow!”

He pulls back and your mouth drops open in horror – you didn’t mean to bite him that hard and –

Your stomach lets out the most petulant growl.

Hand on his neck like it’s bleeding, Dieter follows your gaze to your stomach as if it had called his name.

And then you both break out into side-splitting laughter.

He eases you down, giggling, his nose pressed to your temple. Were you at home, the sex would have probably continued, but the atmosphere would be different – playful, teasing – he once did a Kermit the Frog impression while balls-deep inside of you and you laughed so hard you instantly came all over him.

“Baby,” he sighs through his teeth and kisses your hairline. “I know. I’m so fucking hungry.” He snaps his teeth by your ear and you push him back by his chest. Two goddam years of dating this moron and he still makes you blush like you’re fifteen and necking with a band geek.

His fingers wrap around your wrist to hold your hand above his heart, kissing your knuckles. He sucks your thumb once before you yelp, and he pushes your fist into his hair as you try to squirm away. He smirks into your neck.

“Dieter!”

“I’m hungry!”

“You’re the one who suggested we take edibles before coming to this thing.”

“Mhmm, let’s go home and do more drugs.”

“But you owe me dinner. Five Guys?”

“Baby, I have to eat something first to have enough stamina for that.”

“Oh my god, you –,”

He bites you on your earlobe again, grinning as he comes behind you to nudge you down the hall. “I know what you meant. I’m down for burgers, but I want, like, five.”

“Me too. Carry me? My feet hurt.”

“Of course, mah kwehn,” he nods as he scoops you up across his broad shoulders, momentarily taking on the affectation of Jon Snow and his loyalty to the dragon queen.

You’re working to kick your heels off as he marches the two of you down the hallway and you’ve nearly gotten your second heel off (the first in your lap) when he suddenly stops.

“Oi, Thomas, we’re not at the train station yet,” you grumble as you reach for your heel, awkwardly tucked under you and his arm. “Keep it going. Choo choo, you know?”

He still isn’t moving. You frown up at him, another transportation joke at the ready, but his wide-eyed stare gives you pause.

“What are you looking at?” You turn in his arms, hunger now officially twisting your stomach painfully. “Why’d you–,”

Your mouth falls open.

Beyond two double doors at the end of the hall sits a silver cart, loaded with tiny chocolate desserts.

You swallow the spit flooding your mouth. This time, his stomach grumbles as if to add to the argument.

“Dieter, put me down.” He all but drops you.

“Dieter, we can’t.”

“Why?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re only saying that because we’re both high as fuck right now and I’d eat bathroom soap if I could.”

That seems to rattle him out of his starvation-induced stupor. He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Please, when have I ever not eaten something I wasn’t supposed to?”

You blink up at him, now several inches shorter without your heels. “What? None of that made sense.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going for it.”

He strides past a very wide hallway branching back towards the lobby of the hotel, no doubt where several waiters intended to roll dessert out to the waiting reception. They’d be back at any second, but either due to being higher than a kite, his own innate lack of shame, or a combination of the two, Dieter is across the hallway in seconds and he snatches up two of the little chocolate spheres and shoves them both into his mouth at the same time.

“Holy shit, they’re cream puffs.”

Your hunger nearly doubles you over. “C-cream puffs? Those are m-my–,”

“Your favorite. I know. Mhmm, fucking get over here.”

Trembling from a lack of food and nerves, you slink over to him, hand out-stretched. He’s already had four more by this point and he’s stacking more onto a single plate as your fingers squish around one right in front of you. You pinch and the gooey white cream eases out the side. You whimper.

Dieter pauses, the tips of his fingers stained with dark chocolate and a dollop of cream on his cheek.

“That’s the sound you make when I eat you out.”

Rather than answer your boyfriend, you pop the cream puff into your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as the pastry melts on your tongue.

“Oh fuuuck.”

Dieter watches with growing concern as you scarf down pastry after pastry. “Okay, now I’m a little offended you’re so turned on by this.”

“Shut up, and let me eat.”

In minutes, the silver cart is empty. Chocolate smeared across a dozen haphazardly-arranged plates, dots of cream littering the spaces between plates and on the edge of the cart, it looks like a fucking war zone of confectionery.

You find yourself breathing heavy, your face and arms covered in the guts of those poor, poor baked goods. Dieter isn’t faring much better, his jacket stained and beard sticky. Your hunger is sated, for now, but you think of burgers and fries and a vanilla milkshake and immediately turn to Dieter, who stares back at you with wide eyes.

“I want six burgers–,”

“We should probably leave before we start a scandal–,”

You stare at each other, soldiers shell-shocked, rehabilitated werewolves in horror of their bloodshed. Bloodlust.

The second you get home you’re gonna give him the kind of blow job that stops his heart.

Half-way laughing, half-way crying, you take him by the collar, further smearing chocolate over the starched white linen and his neck, and kiss him soundly on his conspicuous mouth. He giggles through the kiss and cups your cheeks, his massive hands sticky and warm.

“We should go . . .” he murmurs again before pressing his lips to you again. Cream puffs or no, it all tastes better when you lick it off the corner of his mouth.

“We’re gonna have to walk past the lobby,” you bemoan into his patchy beard. Dieter smirks and without warning, squeezes your right tit, leaving a very clear chocolatey handprint on your dress.

“Dieter!”

“C’mon, baby, I wanna devour you. And I want all of them to know it.”

That was the thing about Dieter Bravo, he never did anything small. He never allowed you to feel small. He was obsessive about taking pictures of you, posting them everywhere, never ashamed of you and desperate to have the world see you the way he did.

Like you were delicious.

“I’ll buy you six burgers if you let us walk out like this.”

“Deal.”

Grinning like only a man with nothing to hide can, he takes you by the hand and leads you back towards the very fancy dinner you’ve both no doubt been kicked out of.

Something rises up in you the longer you stare at his broad back.

“Dieter, wait.”

He pauses, turns, and crumbles slightly beneath the weight and intensity of your kiss.

“I love you,” you say before he can slip his tongue into your mouth.

Dieter Bravo does nothing small, is nothing small. Except when it’s just you and him and the words you just uttered hang in the air between you. A small, hesitant smile expands across his lips, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing but it warms him nonetheless.

“I love you too.”

He kisses your nose and you sigh into him. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. But then you might just eat him alive.

“Burgers, Dieter.”

“Right, right. How many do you think we can buy at one time?”

You both ignore the paparazzi and their cameras as you walk hand in hand, your heels in your other hand, with Dieter out the front door and into the limo, arguing about which fast food joint would let you get at least twenty burgers.

Nothing about Dieter Bravo is small. Especially his appetite.

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fandomnsfw · 2 years ago

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Doll House - Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Prompt: Doll House by Melanie Martinez

Warning: None really...a little blood I guess? Mainly Fluff

Thank you to my Beta @lets-imagine-fanfics once again for fixing my screw ups! XD

ENJOY!!

******

You walked into the school, a smile firmly placed on your face as the girls spoke about their weekend. Jenny was talking about her date with Mark while Anna was laughing about something Hayley had said. You spotted your brother across the hall and waved as the girls started swooning over him.

“Hey, big bro. How was practice?” You asked with a sweet smile.

“It was good. Hey, what time is mom co-”

“Yo, Xavier, you forgot your phone!” You heard a voice exclaim as he spluttered out the changing room.

“Thanks, Stilinski.” Your brother laughed before pocketing his phone.

“Hi Y/N.” Stiles muttered with a grin.

“Hi, Stiles.” You giggled as he ran his hands through his hair which was still wet, from what you guessed was the showers. You walked off with the other girls who instantly started gossiping about your brother.

“I dunno about Xavier but Stiles got hot recently.” Anna sighed, fanning herself before bursting into a fit of laughter along with the other girls.

“Anna’s right, Stilinski buffed up and grew his hair out. He looked like the perfect guy, I mean if you get rid of the spazziness.” Jenny snorted, as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“I gotta go grab something from my car before class, I’ll see you later!” You exclaimed cheerfully before making your way to your car.

You took out a packet of cigarettes lighting one up before taking a much-needed drag. You felt yourself instantly relax. It wasn’t like you hated your friend it’s just they were very superficial and you had enough superficial people in your life to know that you’d never have true friends as long as you kept them around. You glanced at your phone as you took another drag from the cigarette.

Mom - ‘Going out tonight won’t be back till late. Use the credit card to eat out.’

Dad – ‘Working late tonight.’

You snorted as you read your parent’s texts before throwing your phone into your Prada handbag. As you took another drag you heard someone speak from behind you.

“You know that’s bad for you right?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere. That voice was attached to the man you’d fantasised about on a regular basis. Stiles Stilinski.

“You know it’s rude to pry right?” You snarled as you took another drag.

“Oh, so now that your friends and brother aren’t round you show your true colours.” He snorted sarcastically.

“No, more like I don’t feel the need to act like a fake Barbie doll now my friends aren’t around.” You sighed as crouched down.

“I used to know someone like you.” He chuckled, as he squatted down in front of you.

“Lydia Martin.” You huffed with a laugh.

“The love of Stiles Stilinski’s life.” You added sarcastically.

“Oh, so you heard about that?” Stiles laughed, running his hands through his slowly drying hair.

“Everyone knows. It’s also like everyone knows not to touch Lydia now because it’s like a written law that you two will end up together. Small town. People gossip.” You scoffed irritably.

“Lydia’s in love with someone else. I’m over her. We’re friends. I know you were dating Kieran and everyone kept saying you two were the perfect couple that you’d marry each other straight outta high school but last week you broke up.” Stiles retaliated softly with a sad smile.

“He didn’t know the real me. Seemed cruel to keep leading him on.” You muttered with a frown as you thought about your parent’s marriage.

To everyone in this town your family was perfect and rich but behind closed curtains, your entire family was fucked. Your brother smoked weed constantly, your mother was an alcoholic and your father was a cheating piece of shit that brought his mistresses home.

It’s not a family if you have to pretend.

“You’re different from what I thought.” Stiles whispered, more to himself than you.

“Why? Because I’m not perfect?” You huffed with a dark laugh.

“No. You seem less…Doll-like…I feel like when I see you I’m staring at a fragile doll-like if I touch you or stare too long you’ll break.” Stiles sighs sadly, causing you to stare at him in shock. He hit the nail on the head. You put out your cigarette before glancing up at him with a sad smile.

“Sometimes the things that go on behind closed doors are things that have to be hidden for the sake of the family.” You replied the words taken from something your mother once told you.

“If you can’t be true to yourself then you’re not living. You’re just breathing.” Stiles shot you a sympathetic smile that should have pissed you off but somehow it made you smile back.

“My mom drinks…” You started as you stared at the ground.

“She does it to forget my dad’s infidelity.” You laughed your tone dark and hateful.

“That’s fucked up, dude.” Stiles huffed angrily.

“You’re telling me…My brother started smoking weed last year to deal with it but now it’s like half the time I see him…He’s fucking stoned out his mind.” You whispered, the pain now evident in your voice.

“I’m the first person you’ve told about this aren’t I?” Stiles muttered as he stood up, holding his hand out so he could help you up.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you with your friends…You’re loyal. I feel like I can trust you.” You stated as you stared into his eyes looking for any sign you’d just fucked up by telling another person about your fake family.

“I won’t tell a soul.” Stiles chuckled a big grin on his face.

“Thanks, Stiles. You’re lucky to have friends and a dad like the Sheriff.” You commented shyly.

“You know my dad?” Stiles commented confusion in his voice.

“Yeah, he’s brought back my brother stoned or drunk a few times. Your dad never books him for it because I have a feeling he has an idea what goes on behind closed doors. He’s a good man.” You muttered softly as you remembered the conversation you had with the Sheriff.

“Thanks. I think so too.” Stiles huffed proudly. You giggled at his expression before walking off.

“Bye Stilinski!” You chuckled over your shoulder earning an excitable wave from the boy in return.

Over the next few weeks you hung out with Stiles after school, occasionally some days he couldn’t come due to plans with his friends but if he couldn’t hang he’d text you constantly. You’d grown closer and it made you happy to be able to talk to someone about your problems.

You got out of your car grabbing your white leather Chanel handbag before spotting Stiles’ jeep pull up. You looked around to check that your friends or brother weren’t about before running up to him and jumping on his back, not realising Scott was at the other side of the car.

“Good morning Sti.” You giggled as you kissed his cheek.

“Good morning princess.” He retorted sarcastically before glancing at Scott who was now staring with wide eyes.

“Stiles, why is Xavier’s baby sister kissing you?” Scott muttered making you now very aware of his presence.

“I-I only kissed his cheek I m-mean…It’s not l-like I…ya know.” You stuttered nervously as you looked around to check no one else had noticed the display.

“Hey, Y/N, breath he’s just shocked. He doesn’t care.” Stiles chuckled softly as he ruffled your hair, earning a glare from you as you fixed your hair.

“No, I don’t mind, just wondered. I didn’t realise you two were friends…Wait! Is this the girls you’ve been texting constantly, that’s had you smiling every 5 seconds.” Scott laughed as he pointed at Stiles with an amused face.

“No!” Stiles shouted quickly.

“No!?” You snapped angrily as you glared at him.

“I mean yes!” Stiles corrected earning an eye roll from both you and Scott.

“How come you never talk in school?” Scott asked causing you to freeze.

“I didn’t wanna drag her down to my nerd depths.” Stiles chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Scott’s right, we should talk in school too!” You exclaimed as your heart started thumping nervously.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-”

“No, come on you can walk me to my locker!” You giggled plastering a fake smile on your face which you were sure Stiles could decipher by now. You linked arms with him and began walking towards the school.

“Ha! No.” Stiles shook his arm out of yours shocking you and Scott.

“I am not walking in there linking arms. I’ll look like your new gay bestie!” Stiles exclaimed dramatically causing you and Scott to burst out laughing. He threw his arm over your shoulder with a grin.

“And walking in like you’re my new Bae is better?” You snorted as you wrapped your arm around his waist.

“Don’t ever say Bae again or I’ll disown you but yes it's better.” Stiles laughed sarcastically, earning a slap to his chest from you.

“I’d rather you really were my boyfriend but ya know.” You muttered under your breath.

You walked into school with Stiles’ arm slung around you and it took all of 5 seconds before the whispers started. You kept your head up knowing if you lowered it, people would think you had something to be ashamed of.

Scott glanced at you with wide eyes as if asking if you were okay but you just sent him a smile. He walked you to your locker where your friends were waiting. He gave you a hug before kissing your forehead.

“Laters, princess.” He chuckled as you shot him a heart-warming smile.

“Bye.” You whispered shyly and once he was gone the hyenas were on you so fast, you almost didn’t even see them move.

“You’re dating Stiles!?” Jenny whisper yelled with wide eyes.

“No.” You muttered quietly wishing you could say yes.

“Then why did he call you princess and kiss you!?” Anna questioned angrily.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You answered sweetly, trying to stop yourself from strangling each and every one of them. You ignore the rest of the questions and head to class as you took deep breaths and tried to calm down.

When lunch came around you were worn out from all the questions from other students had been asking, so when lunch came around you went to the cafeteria and took your food to Stiles’ table. You looked around the table seeing no chairs so you just sat on Stiles’ knee. He made no comment as you started eating your lunch but you could see every one of his friend staring at you.

“Why is Xavier’s sister sitting at our table?” Liam asked quietly.

“I have a name too, Dunbar.” You huffed angrily as you shot him a frown.

“Y/N, right?” Lydia asked sassily.

“Yes, Lydia.” You answered just as sassily.

“Woah! What happened to make you all pissy?” Stiles asked as he looked into your eyes.

“Nothing.” You sighed as you looked away from his intense gaze.

“Oh no, we’re not doing this again, princess. Tell me.” Stiles sighed his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’ve been hounded none stop since this morning and I really want a smoke but I promised you I wouldn’t.” You pouted as you glanced at him briefly. Stiles nodded before picking up a fry and holding it to your lips without any more questions.

“My question is why is she sat on Stiles’ knee?” Malia growled causing you to freeze. You remembered her and Stiles dating for a while but you were sure they’d broken up. Maybe you’d been wrong.

“Why does that matter?” Jackson huffed obnoxiously.

“There were no seats and Stiles is single and obviously her friend.” Ethan added earning a nod from Scott.

You tried not to smile so you shoved another chip in your mouth. Stiles tucked your hair behind your ear sweetly before holding out his water bottle for you. You took it with a thank you before taking a sip. The rest of lunch went like this, though I could tell his friends felt a little awkward. Stiles reassured you they just had to get used to you.

After you walked to your locker with him, he placed his hand to the side of your head against the locker. You glanced at him in suspicion before he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

“Your girlfriends are staring from behind their books.” Stiles chuckled against your ear, sending shiver straight down your spine.

“What, so you thought you’d make my life harder to explain by making it look like your whispering dirty shit in my ear.” You whispered back, purposely brushing your lips against his ear. He pulled back biting his lower lip to try and hide his smile.

“I mean if you’d like me to make it easier I could totally whisper dirty things in your ear?” Stiles stated with a smirk. You let out a little snort even though you knew your cheeks were likely red but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The rest of the day was filled with more questions and gossip but after spending lunchtime with Stiles you didn’t care. You head was filled with thoughts of him. Stiles had asked if you wanted to have dinner at his but you’d yet to go to Stiles’ house and you were honestly nervous. Would his dad be home? Would his dad like you even though he’d basically arrested your brother more times than you could count?

At the end of the day, you followed Stiles home in your car with a nauseous feeling in your stomach from nerves but you ignored it as you pulled up and got out with your handbag. Stiles slung his arm over your shoulder which made you laugh remembering earlier in the day.

You walked into his house following him to what turned out to be the kitchen. He grabbed two soda’s passing you one silently before his dad walked into the kitchen clearly shocked to see you in his kitchen drinking soda.

“Hi, Y/N.” The Sheriff greeted with a small smile.

“Hi, Sheriff.” You greeted politely, which made his smile widen.

“Please call me Noah. I didn’t know you and Stiles were friends?” He questioned as he pulled out a bottle of water.

“It’s a new development.” You laughed as Stiles looked between you and his dad quietly.

“Oh, are you the new girl my son has been goi-”

“Okaaaaay! That’s enough of that pops.” Stiles exclaimed with a glare.

“Well, it’s good to see Stiles dating again.” The Sheriff huffed with a proud smile.

“Oh, we’re not dating!” You squeaked with a blush.

“God, no need to sound so offended.” Stiles snorted sarcastically.

“The whole school thinks we’re dating if I was offended I’d correct them.” You replied, sticking out your tongue childishly.

“Why does the whole school think your dating?” The Sheriff asked with a raised brow.

“Cos Stiles put his arm over my shoulder when we went into school today, then at lunch he p-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT!” Stiles shouted rather loudly causing you to jump.

“Well, that sounds like an eventfully day.” The Sheriff chuckled you nodded cheerfully as he started asking about the rest of your day.

You sat in the living room with the Sheriff while Stiles made tea. His words were fatherly and caring which made you smile down at your lap happily. He asked about your brother which you awkwardly answered but he didn’t judge you or bring it up after that.

“So, you like my son?” The Sheriff questioned as he stared at you over his coffee.

“W-What?” You squealed a blush making its way to your face for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“He may be blind but I’m not.” The Sheriff chuckled causing you to laugh.

“Yeah…He’s sweet and he accepts me for who I am even though my family is screwed up. He’s very affectionate too.” You giggle as you remember all the forehead kisses and hugs he’s given you.

“It appears you’re just as blind as my son.” The Sheriff mumbled making your eyes widen as if you’d miss heard it.

“Pardon?” You asked politely.

“Nothing, anyway Stiles should be done soon why don’t we go and sit in the dining room?” The Sheriff asked with a smile. You gave him a nod and followed after him.

You sat down at the table with the Sheriff as Stiles served up lasagne. After he’d done he stroked your hair. You looked up at him and he kissed your forehead quickly before sitting down. You smiled happily as you dug into the food. Stiles cooking was beyond amazing, which honestly didn’t shock you because you knew his dad worked a lot and his mom wasn’t around so you figured Stiles knew how to cook.

“This is really good!” He exclaimed with a giggle.

“It’s my mom’s recipe she taught me how to make it.” Stiles muttered with a smile. You leant over and ran your fingers through his hair before caressing his cheek with your thumb. He glanced over at you with a grin and nodded to you letting you know he’s was fine.

“You two are so sweet!” You heard a female voice come from behind you. You turned round to see Scott and Mrs McCall stood there.

“Mrs McCall!” You giggled as you ran over to give her a hug.

“Hi, sweetie. I didn’t know you and Stiles had started dating.” You let out a dramatic whine as the Sheriff and Stiles started laughing.

“How do you know my mom?” Scott asked as he sat down with a plate of lasagne.

“Ermm well…” You flushed as you awkwardly pushed your food around.

“Y/N wants to be a nurse when she gets older.” Mrs McCall supplied while wiping sauce off the Sheriff's cheek causing him to grin.

“Really? You never told me that.” Stiles gasped as he reached out to hold your hand.

“This town is kinda accident prone so I want to be able to help people.” You giggled but for some reason everyone froze, causing you to frown. You felt like there was something you should know but you decided to leave it for now and ask Stiles later.

A few seconds later there was a knock at the door you stood telling them you’d get it but what stood at the door shocked you to your core. There stood Jackson and Ethan holding a bleeding man that looked vaguely familiar.

“Oh my god! Get him in here!” You screamed urgently.

“Stiles, can you get me warm water, alcohol and a towel please!” You screamed as they laid the man down on the couch.

“Wh- OH MY GOD, DEREK!” Stiles screamed as he ran up to the man.

“STILES TOWEL, WATER, ALCOHOL GO!” You screamed as you ripped off Derek’s shirt seeing several slash wounds it looked like an animal had mauled him.

“MELISSA, I NEED YOUR HELP!” You screamed as you took off your cardigan and held it to the worst wound. Melissa ran in with Stiles following. You took the towel and water before cleaning most of the blood when you’d done you grabbed the alcohol and looked up at Jackson and Scott.

“Hold him down.” Was all you needed to say before you began cleaning the wounds with alcohol the man thrashed around and roared but right now the fact that this man had glowing blue eyes wasn’t a problem or something you could get scared of, right now you needed to stop his bleeding.

“Ethan, hold his legs.” You screamed as his legs started kicking around.

“Melissa, hold this for now.” You said pointing to the cardigan on the vastly bleeding cut.

“I need you to tell me how to help him. He’s obviously not human and right now I have no idea whether I should call an ambulance or wait.” You sighed as you looked at Stiles.

“Werewolf. He’ll heal fast.” Stiles muttered but instead of questioning you nodded and turned to the Sheriff.

“I need a needle, lighter and thread. Even if he heals faster, it’s not going to stop bleeding until I close it.” You stated softly before turning to Melissa.

“I think we should stitch this one then bandage his torso just until the bleeding stops.” You muttered softly as if asking for her approval.

“Well done, Y/N.” She muttered in a soft motherly tone that made you smile.

After Melissa stitched him up and bandaged him, Derek passed out. You picked up the remaining vodka and took a swing earning a raised eyebrow from the Sheriff. You stood up and crossed your arms.

“I just tended to a bleeding dying man who turned out to be a werewolf. I think I deserve it.” You sighed before turning to Stiles.

“Explain. Now.” You snapped angrily. You weren’t angry because Stiles associated with werewolves you were angry because he didn’t tell you. You had thought he trusted you.

“That is Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf.” He stated simply with an awkward smile.

“That much I already figured out myself, thanks. How many of your friends are wolves?” You sighed knowing that going back a few years Stiles wouldn’t have been seen dead with Jackson but now it was like they had mutual trust.

“That’s not my secret to tell.” Stiles sighed softly.

“Scott, your one right?” You questioned as you turned to him.

“How?”

“My brother has been playing lacrosse with you since freshmen year. You don’t think I noticed when you went from asthmatic and benched to first line with perfect health and reflexes?” You snorted before turning to Jackson and Ethan.

“Ethan and his brother turned up when people started dying last year. I’m gonna go with your one and Jackson…You and Stiles used to hate each other and now you seem to have this weird mutual understanding. So I’m gonna go with you too. So that leaves you.” You pointed to Stiles.

“What, you can’t suss me out?” Stiles chuckled with his arms crossed.

“No, I can’t.” You muttered angrily as you glanced at Melissa you way wiping away Derek’s sweat.

“Derek Hale. Cora Hales big brother and has an Uncle called Peter. The family died in a fire 12 years ago.” You muttered as you stared at the man.

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

“Laura used to babysit me…” You whispered sadly as you remembered hearing about her death nearly 2 years ago.

“Derek probably doesn’t remember me. We only met once or twice.” You snorted as you remembered the huge crush you used to have on him.

“I used to have a huge crush on him. He’s grown a lot since I saw him so I didn’t recognise him until you said his name.” You muttered as you remembered all the times Laura teased you.

“Why does everyone seem to like Derek Hale!?” Stiles grumbled childishly.

“Because he’s hot.” You, Melissa, Ethan and Jackson said at the same time.

“Objectifying a man while he’s passed out from blood loss. Classy, Y/N.” You heard a gruff voice mumbled. You looked down to see Derek with one eye open.

“I was taught by the best.” You chuckled before you felt an arm wrap around you. You looked to see Stiles glaring at Derek who raised an eyebrow at you.

“No, we’re not dating!” You snapped at him but he sent you a smirk.

“Shut up, I don’t need your opinionated facial expressions, Hale.” You huffed as Stiles snorted next to you, before kissing your temple affectionately

“You grew up.” Derek huffed

“I feel old.” He added making you laugh.

“So who runs the pack?” You asked softly as you glanced at Stiles. Stiles raised an eyebrow at you as if asking how you’d know that a pack needs a leader.

“I read a lot of werewolf romance novels, okay? Don’t judge me!” You huffed with a blush as everyone laughed at you.

“That would be me.” Scott chuckled but his answer had your jaw hitting the floor.

“Scott McCall is an Alpha?” You gasped.

Months after finding out you’d been accepted into the pack as another human member. You had settled in with everyone else, you finally stopped caring about fake friends and pretending to be someone else.

You were currently sat at a pack meeting with Scott talking away about a pack that had asked permission to pass through. You’d zoned out to stare at Stiles who was sat next to Scott with a serious expression. He ran his hands through his hair before biting his lip in what looked to be stressed out manner.

Once the meeting was over you grabbed yourself a water from Derek’s kitchen with a sigh. You wanted to tell Stiles how you felt but you had no idea how. Maybe you should just kiss him? Or jump his bones?

You laughed at the thought, earning a raised eyebrow from Derek who had come to put the coffee pot on. You shot him a grin before skipping back to the living room. The pack were setting up a film so you sought out Stiles, spotting him sat in the corner of one of the couches.

You sat on his knee then looked up at him with a smile which he returned. You decided while the pack was busy you’d make your move. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before turning to the film with a blush creeping up your neck. However, as you finally started calming your heart, you were picked up.

“We’ll be back in a minute.” Stile stated as he carried you to the kitchen bridal style.

“Wanna tell me what just happened?” Stile asked seriously which honestly scared you.

“I-I kissed you?” You supplied, though it came out more like a question.

“Why?” He asked just as seriously as before.

“Because I like you…if not m-more than th-that…” you stuttered your blush coming back tenfold. Just as you were about to get down Stiles cupped both your cheeks and planted a passionate kiss on your lips before pulling back and gazing into your eyes.

“Thank god. I’ve wanted to do that for forever.” Stiles sighed before placing another kiss on your lips.

“Would you do the honour of being my official girlfriend?” Stiles muttered with a small hopeful smile.

“I would love to Sti.” You giggled happily.

#Stiles #Stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x you #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #reader #reader insert #fluff

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forsakenmissives · 1 year ago

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inspired by @izzyspussy’s prompt. hope u dont mind?? lol also tw for mention of james tartt. yknow how it is — also im thinking this takes place around the start of the season after the show ends 💚 but also (thanks nonny!) just pretend eras tour came out 2021 and barbie came out 2022 and not. now LOL

It starts as less than a handful of Tweets. Honestly, Jamie laughs at the first one, then scrolls by and completely misses the rest. And then he sees a group of lads donning West Ham merch pointing at him while on his morning run (sans Roy, who had to bow out due to a cold, the dick . . . Jamie's planning on picking him up breakfast) and whispering — but not quiet enough — that the Barbie has escaped his box. The Tweets (and comments and replies and DMs) appear more frequently after that.

The pictures of him in his pink tracksuit, tied to Roy’s bike, are passed around again. This time not by his loyal fans who begged for proper HD pics from him and thought he looked good as hell, but by the ones who call him Barbie and think his hair is blond and dumb and that he is just a dumb blond who isn’t even that good at football. At least that last bit could be easily refuted by his stats. He’s damn good at his job, and he knows it.

He doesn’t say anything about it, however, until they’re in the locker room after training, and Isaac huffs at something while looking at his phone. Jamie glances over to see him angling the screen toward him. “They’re callin’ you Barbie, bruv.”

Isaac is a really good friend, like, the best a guy could ask for. But Jamie kind of doesn’t want to think about this. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a compliment, innit? And kind of fittin’. I’m perfect, I’m everything. I am Barbie, ain’t I?”

At his easy dismissal, Isaac brightens up, grinning, and Jamie grins back. He finds the Tweet he was shown and posts a good selfie he took a few days ago, captioning it, I am everything. You wanna be Ken? It’s a bit stupid, but the insult is stupid too, so he thinks he’s allowed it.

The thing is — he wants to be unbothered by the nickname. The Barbie movie was fucking awesome, and though he’s still on thin ice with Keeley, even after their strictly-business trip to Brazil, they put aside their differences . . . that is, they put aside Jamie’s fuck-up to go and watch one of the screenings together. Yeah. It was fucking awesome. And he loves women. Like, major respect.

But the condemnations of the word are a knife’s edge away from a whiskey-tinged voice hissing soft and little bitch in his ear, and Jamie really can’t fucking deal with that right now. And he had gone and seen James in rehab, just for a couple hours, and he doesn’t regret going and seeing him, and he actually thinks it’s fucking mint the man’s getting help. He even enjoyed going through the old photos of his grandparents and James as a baby and even some of his own photos, when his mum looked a little less tired and he wasn’t afraid to smile too brightly. And in rehab, James is given limited Internet time, so the chances of him seeing the insults, seeing Jamie being called a girls’ toy, something pretty and pink, are small, and even if he does see, what can he do? They won’t just let him leave while obviously on some rampage.

It’s not like Jamie plans on going back to the man any time soon anyway. He’s not James Tartt’s anything. They just share a name. So what?

Jamie jumps at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He pockets his phone (his Quote Tweet is now at twenty thousand likes and counting), and when he turns, it’s Roy, staring at him with those impossibly dark eyes and wild brows that make them even darker.

“Hi, coach,” he says with a grin.

Roy grunts back.

Jamie stays still for another second before blinking. “Got any wisdom for me?”

The other guys have begun to clear out, and now it’s just them and Beard still in the coaches’ office. And Will, who seems to be some metaphor for God, the way he’s always around, not even lurking, just . . . around.

Finally, Roy says, “Good pass. Don’t be late tomorrow.”

It’s so unbearably Roy that it makes Jamie sick. It also suggests there’s more he’s not saying, but Jamie isn’t sure what. He doesn’t push, however, just salutes him. “‘Course, coach,” he leans back on his heels, “dark and early, yeah?”

Roy nods, then pivots and mechanically goes back to the office. Jamie watches him go before turning and gathering his things. As he packs, he can practically feel Roy’s eyes on his back, but he knows when he turns, both him and Beard will be staring down at things on their desks. Whatever.

Jamie doesn’t run into anyone on his way out, and he’s grateful, taking a breath when he gets in his car then speeding off. He feels itchy under his skin, like when his foot falls asleep but the sensation is all over his body, and he kind of regrets leaving Nelson Road because he thinks running a few extra laps up and down the pitch would soothe him, if only a little bit. Despite this, when he gets home, he just gets out of his car and goes inside. It’s not that he’s worried about a repeat of his solo jog that one morning. It’s just really hot outside, what with it being late July and all, and he just showered, like, thirty minutes ago.

Every time a notification goes off on his phone, his stomach flips in a really awful way. Jamie turns off his phone.

Maybe now that he’s said something, it’ll die down. Since he’s made it clear he’s not bothered by it, that he can take whatever they give, they’ll stop.

And then, the first match of the season, Jamie walks onto the pitch, and a familiar song starts up. It’s not his song — but it’s certainly for him.

“Are they singing . . . ‘Barbie Girl’?” Colin asks from behind him.

“And changing the pronoun to ‘he’,” Jan adds, helpful as ever.

Jamie catches sight of one of the cameras recording the match, grins and sticks out his tongue, and when he looks to the opposing fans’ side, he even gives a little bow. Just for them. He thinks about something Lasso said to him once about bullying, after he stopped being a dick to Nate and asked why Ted never stepped in. Acknowledging it almost always makes it worse. Sorry that Jamie had believed in the ‘almost’.

;

After getting booted from Keeley’s and after a dinner at a kebab place that Jamie knows is good because Roy didn’t actually make him sit and watch — he picked bits of lamb from the skewer and placed them on the napkin in front of Jamie without a word — it’s not unusual for him and Roy to get dinner together. Sometimes it’s just them at Roy’s, who’s a better cook than his mum but not better than Simon, and sometimes it’ll be at a pub, and sometimes they’ll go to a restaurant. It was with ruddy cheeks that Roy admitted the kebab shop was like his church, but Jamie wasn’t judging. He thinks he understood the ecstasy of St Theresa after a bite of that lamb.

Tonight, however, Roy drops Jamie off at his place, and then parks the car and follows him in.

“Uh,” Jamie says when Roy stands in the entryway, a hand behind his back, posture stiff, “can I help you?”

“Go to your room,” Roy replies, and Jamie’s eyes go wide, and he says, “O-kay, Daddy,” before he backtracks, but Roy is backtracking too. “I mean, go somewhere that isn’t behind me or the kitchen.”

Jamie’s mouth drops into an ‘o’. “Right. Okay. I’ll just go to the living room, then.”

Roy nods, and Jamie walks slowly to the couch, backwards so he can watch Roy watching him.

He manages to sit still on his couch for a good two minutes, listening to Roy clattering about his kitchen, before he hops up and goes to sit at his dining table instead. It’s there that he sees a paper bag, and it takes everything in him not to peek into it. At the sound of the chair scraping against the floor, Roy leans back from where he’d had his head stuck in Jamie’s fridge, and he turns to look back at Jamie, who smiles innocently at him. He even waggles his fingers in a wave for good measure.

Roy rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, so Jamie thinks it’s fine, and he doesn’t think about how good it feels to be the one behind Roy Kent’s smile. Roy goes back to rummaging through the fridge.

Eventually, Jamie gets roped into helping out, but all his complaints are customary, and he thinks if he had allowed himself — if he had been allowed — to dream about domesticity, this is exactly how it would’ve been. Right down to the celebrity footballer. It’s kind of perfect.

Then, Jamie’s phone goes off.

It’s his news app, which he keeps forgetting to turn off the notifications for, and it irritates him every time, but especially when he actually clicks the notification ‘cause the story looks interesting, only to find out he’s somehow already used up his articles for the month, and would he please be willing to spare a few pounds every month for more? In theory, yes, he is willing. In practice . . . he has other places to put his money.

That being said, the irritation he feels then is nothing compared to the humiliation he feels now, reading the headline: This Barbie is a Footballer: AFC Richmond Jamie Tartt’s new song.

Roy is turned the other way, so luckily, he can’t see the way Jamie’s smile immediately drops from his face. This shit isn’t even important! It’s just some stupid fan war mess, the opponents’ fans trying to get in his head, and it’s not fucking working, alright? He doesn’t care. He’s just embarrassed that it’s apparently made the news. It’s really not a big deal.

When he looks up from his phone, Roy is looking at him. Jamie swallows.

“It’s nothin’,” he tells him. “Just some politician, saying some stupid thing. Sam sent it to me to rant.”

Roy nods, but he looks like he doesn’t believe him. Jamie’s voice had wavered in the middle, so he doesn’t believe himself either. But he still doesn’t budge, just leans back against the counter and waits for Roy to either turn away or say something in return. Roy turns away. Over his shoulder, he says, “I have something for you after we eat.”

“Whatever’s in the bag?” Jamie asks. Roy grunts. “Is it concert tickets? Am I goin’ to see Taylor fucking Swift? The bag’s just to throw me off, obviously.”

“Fuck no,” Roy’s response is, pun intended, swift and immediate. Jamie grins. “You’ll see later. Just . . . wait.”

Jamie groans. “Fine. But it better be good, since you got me all excited for the concert.”

Roy gives him a stern glare. Jamie puts his hands up, then gets back to washing the dishes they’re done using.

All throughout their meal, Jamie struggles to sit still, and his eyes, without fail, return to the bag. It becomes enough of a problem that Roy takes the bag and hides it in his lap, but Jamie’s no coward, so his gaze still wanders to — well.

“The quicker you finish eating, the sooner you get to see it,” Roy growls out around his own mouthful of salmon and quinoa (Jamie was surprised he had those things in his freezer and cupboard too, but it made a damn good meal, so he’s not complaining).

Jamie grows a lot more focussed after that, and he’s done within minutes — nay, seconds. Roy raises his eyebrows in approval. Jamie licks the leftover glaze for the salmon off his fork for good measure. Roy looks down at his plate.

Once Roy finishes eating, the paper bag makes its triumphant return, Roy setting it between them. He nods his head at it, and Jamie takes it quickly, before the other can change his mind and take it back.

He doesn’t expect what he pulls out, but he feels like he should. He looks between the Barbie and Roy, who’s staring at Jamie with a gaze so intense Jamie worries he might burn up from it. If this had been bestowed to him any time the year before, especially from Roy, he’d think it a continuation of the insult. But all he feels right now is laughter, the weight in his stomach turning into something bubbly and light that works its way up his throat and past his lips. Slowly — because he’s out of practice, the old fart — Roy begins to smile back.

The stupid fucking made-to-move soccer Barbie is even wearing an England kit, and when Jamie turns her around, he grins at the number and name on the back.

“You fucking dick,” he says, the words coming out as a hiss through his teeth, that’s how hard he’s grinning.

“You’re Jamie fucking Tartt,” Roy replies, and Jamie wishes he had a word to describe the look the other was sending him, but the best he can do is say how it makes him feel — really fucking good; like nothing could ever hurt him; like there is no one else in the world but the two of them; like he could go win the World Cup, the FA Cup, all the Leagues, every award in the football world, and not break a single sweat. It makes him feel a lot like he’s in love.

Roy’s not done: “You are everything. Who gives a shit if some pricks call you Barbie? You fucking own it, Jamie. You are every-fucking-thing, and they’re not even Ken.”

And Jamie will make fun of him for it later, that he’s more than aware of the movie’s tagline, but at the moment, he’s clutching the Barbie to his chest like a lifeline, and he feels a sting behind his eyes, like tears are threatening to spill, and his cheeks hurt with how hard he’s smiling.

Roy clears his throat. “Phoebe said there are ways you can change the hair, but . . . don’t use heat. It’s plastic. You can cut it or dye it fucking . . . walnut haze or whatever.”

Jamie doesn’t even correct him that it’s walnut mist. He’s close enough.

He gives the doll one last squeeze. “Thanks, Roy, I mean it.”

Roy doesn’t reply, just gives a grunt and nods his head. That’s alright too. Jamie looks down at the doll again, then leans back in his seat. He holds it up to his face, angles her head so they’re cheek-to-cheek more or less.

“Like twins, ain’t we?”

And Jamie wonders if maybe there were something in the food, or maybe in their drinks, because it seems like Roy can’t stop smiling either.

;

The opposing fans are at it again. Jamie sees Roy glance back at him and grins. He considers mouthing all good, coach, but he’s more interested in using one arm to wave and the other to hold his Barbie up the same way he had when it was just him and Roy, teeth bared all the while. The crowd goes wild, of course.

He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. He’s everything. Of course no one is going to think of him as just Ken — that’s just ridiculous.

in case you can’t tell “condemnations” is supposed to be “connotations”. ily jamieisms 💚 also i wrote this rly fast on my phone so sorry & now on ao3 if u'd prefer to read it there ✌️

#my writing #royjamie #ted lasso #jamie tartt

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the-butch-of-blaviken · 1 year ago

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Aiden/Lambert/Keira, modern au, pure fluff, sharing food (890 words)

something silly and self-indulgent written for a discord server prompt

It’s a hot summer day and they’d thought going to the beach on their day off was a good idea – and it would have been, had not about a billion other people had the same idea.

Lambert has not been to the beach since he was eleven years old and Vesemir took him and his brothers to the beach on one of those rare, blessed week-ends where he didn’t work. Lambert remembers splashing around in the water and daring his brothers to see who could hold his breath the longest underwater. The ice cream cart had wobbled over to their spot and the three of them had turned to Vesemir with eyes like war orphans’. “Absolutely not,” Vesemir had said without looking up from his crosswords.

Turns out splashing around in the water all day was good enough for eleven-year-olds but he feels a little self-conscious about it now, and besides, kids and middle-aged dads in khaki bathing shorts standing perfectly still knee-deep in water with their hands on their hips are already taking up all the space.

Aiden does manage to lure him to deeper waters and for a moment they’re busy racing each other, shamelessly cheating by catching the other’s foot and tickling him or grabbing each other by the leg and dragging him underwater, but it rapidly gets old and after an hour and a half, they’re back on dry land. Keira complains that they’re kicking up sand and dripping all over her like dogs after a bath, but she still makes room for them under her parasol. After that, it gets rather dull and Lambert starts feeling like seasoned meat on a barbecue grill. As a matter of fact, all three of them are sweating profusely, even Keira, who somehow still manages to look like a Barbie straight out of the box.

When the ice cream cart wheels past their spot, they all share a look.

“Let’s share an ice cream,” Aiden suggests.

“They only come in cones.”

“Yeah, and? It’s romantic,” he replies, grinning.

Keira scoffs. “It’s disgusting and unsanitary is what it is.”

“We’ve done more unsanitary stuff than this.”

“What kind of argument is that?” She turns to Lambert, looking for support.

He just shrugs. “I don’t feel like getting ice cream just for me.” He still kind of wants the ice cream, though.

She stares at him over the brim of her thick-rimmed sunglasses for a moment before capitulating, sighing. She fishes a ten-florin bill out of her wallet and holds it out between her index and middle fingers for Aiden to take. He snatches it and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, mom.”

She slaps his ass on his way up. Lambert hides his smile behind a hand when Aiden yelps. He probably would have done the same.

They each choose a perfume: strawberry for Keira, chocolate mint for Lambert and peanut butter for Aiden. The ice cream starts melting before they’ve even sat back down on their towel, running down the cone in a glorious pink, green and brown mess.

Keira gets the first taste. After that, they pass the cone around in turns: Aiden makes a point of taking comically long licks whenever he can. It takes Keira and Lambert a while to notice, but when they do, Aiden has to sit out two of his turns to compensate. He looks at them like a kicked puppy while they enjoy their ice cream with overzealous noises of enjoyment until the mother of a nearby family glares at them.

Ice cream is running down their fingers in creamy, sticky streaks and it tastes everything Lambert thought ice cream from the ice cream cart would taste: cheap, too sugary and delicious.

In the end, Aiden sinks his teeth into the ice cream, raising exclamations of protest and indignation.

“Oh, Aiden, no!”

“You’re really bad at sharing,” Lambert says and he and Keira laugh when Aiden winces like someone who’s got a bad case of brain freeze.

“You guys just needed to eat faster,” Aiden replies when he’s recovered. “It’s survival of the fittest out here.” He holds out the remains of the ice cream to Keira.

“Oh no, you can keep it now. And don’t look so proud of yourself. You’re doing the dishes tonight.”

Aiden smiles, baring his teeth. “Worth it.”

“Terrible man.” She doesn’t bother keeping the fondness from her voice.

Later, Lambert takes Keira’s hand in his as they walk back to the car and Aiden slings an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t touch me, I’m all gross and sweaty,” she warns him and he presses himself against her side, squishing his cheek against hers. She groans. “Dishes duty today and tomorrow.”

He laughs. Nothing gets to him.

They hiss as they settle into their seats, fake leather burning every inch of exposed skin.

“Am I the only one thinking the beach is kind of overrated?” Lambert says, brushing sand from between his toes. Keira smiles at him in the rearview mirror.

“Too many kids, man,” Aiden complains as he adjusts his hair with his fingers in the little mirror inside the sun visor.

“Let’s stay home next time.”

Keira drives them away and Lambert rests his head against the car door, swearing he can still feel the waves as he drifts to sleep.

#aiden/lambert/keira #my fics #i wanted to write something simple and fluffy just for fun

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ellsbclls · 3 years ago

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White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here.

Your secret hideaway.

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response. “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare.

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you.

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice. “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way.

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her? “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb. “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach.

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking.

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening.

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake.

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss.

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines.

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse.

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears.

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill.

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open.

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene — opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you.

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that.

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you. “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #I CAN NOT BELIEVE I ACTUALLY FUCKING FINISHED THIS #the way this magically climbed from 4.7 to 9.5k in one day will never cease to amaze me #and i hope that this spawns a new love and excitement for country boy tom because i love arvin but #BOY does that man scare me a lil bit #this is more like a . . hart of dixie type of country #more apple pie! less homicide!#I ALSO DONT KNOW WHA THAPPENED TO THE SMUT THIS IS LIKE 40% SMUT #anyway i really do hope yall enjoy #mine*

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angelkurenai · 4 years ago

Text

Long overdue - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Title: Long overdue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Could you please do a Bucky and y/n where she is shy but is really close to Steve and Bucky thanks their dating and he gets jealous because he loves her but they don’t really talk that much? Love your work

“Still not ready to retire old man?” you smiled, teasingly when the blonde looked at you over his shoulder, but always with a warmth in your eyes that only longtime friends, family, at this point could have. Especially after everything you've all been through.

“What did you just call me, right now?” he narrowed his eyes at you, a lightness and easiness in both his movement and voice, as you couldn't see much of his face at that moment. Granted there was still some heaviness in the atmosphere whenever silence followed, and his moves if one was to pay close attention could notice were short and stiff. And you do notice it.

But who could blame him? Things are better than what they've been five years ago but still, that doesn't mean good. Not when people were still lost in the battle, important ones. Also family.

It's as good as it can get for now at least, and to have your best friend alive and here with you is really the second best thing at the moment. So you can't nor will complain.

“Am pretty sure you heard me. Just as I am sure that if I looked close enough, I could spot a white strand of hair here and there.” you smirked when his eyes widened “But that's not the point here. What I mean is, it's been a good couple months since you gave up that shield, and yet you're still somehow around. Changed your mind, maybe you need a new one? I saw one the other day when I was in town, I think it would suit you.”

“I'm just taking my time, it's not that easy to find an apartment in Brooklyn. You know that.” he turned to fully face you, a frown on his face but it was anything but serious as he crossed his arms over his chest “Besides, weren't you the one that said I should take as much time as I need and that this will always be my home? What happened now? Can't wait to get rid of me?”

“Oh you figured it out, at last.” you played along, letting out a long sigh of relief “Yeah, I'm so sick and tired of seeing that perfectly handsome face all the time. Distracting, taunting and at the same time reminding me of the 20 skincare products I have to use yet again tonight, to look even remotely human.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips, the easy smile managing to warm you deep to your heart, just as much as his arms did the moment they wrapped around you "If that is to say you look like an angel otherwise, then yes I will accept it.”

“Yeah, particularly the one that rules hell.” you chuckled.

“Why do I even try to say anything nice for you in the first place?” he laughed, shaking his head.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him as well, trying to find some comfort in your friend- in your family, before you inevitably had to throw yourself into this new world without him. The new age of heroes where many things had changed and in which you wouldn't have someone to turn to any given moment, as easily as it was with Steve. Steve had always been that important. There still was one, much more important of course, but that treacherous heart of yours made it impossible for you to even remotely think you could be so open with him as with Steve. Not without turning every shade of red there was, anyway. “In any case-” you cleared your throat “I could still get you that shield and you can be back on the business in no time. With a new title, of course, but still doing the job... which involves making me breakfast and dinner when I'm too tired. I mean, now that I think about it, you can still keep up that job even if you don't wanna be out on the field.”

“Ah so I do see why you want me to stay after all.” he nodded his head “By the way, what kind of shield are we talking about?”

“Oh it's a special one. I think it was based off a movie? You know how they are with superhero movies lately. And given how bright pink it was I'm guessing Captain Barbie or someth-” but you didn't even get to complete your sentence when a yelp left your lips and soon laughter followed. His fingers moved swiftly as he tickled your sides but you were faster at swatting his hands away.

“Fine, fine. Not a fan of cinema, I see.” you shook your head with a sigh.

“Yeah, forgive me, but we all have flaws. Even me. Is that the real reason why you want me out of here as soon as possible, maybe?” he raised an eyebrow.

“You've got me. Deep down I cannot stand the fact.” you shrugged innocently, but the smile on your lips betraying what you felt.

“Man, I feel the love. You all are glad I came back alive from returning the stones I see.” he said only as a joke, focusing back to gathering the papers filled with older drawings that he had on his table.

“... I am glad you are still here, though, Steve.” you said softly and he looked over his shoulder at you again. This time he didn't just pause, he let go of the papers and turned to face you.

“Where else would I be?” this time a frown set on his face, more serious than any other you'd seen on his face so far, because he understood what your words meant “This is where my family is.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean-” you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged “There still were more options. More than you had before.”

“More options, yes. A need for a choice? No. I'm good, more than good. And I wouldn't change a thing about what I have here...” he shrugged softly, looking at you carefully almost with calculating eyes before he started speaking again “I mean, save for one thing I suppose. There is always-”

“Don't. Don't you even-” you gave him a sharp look, fast enough to cut him off “Not unless you want me to kick your ass out of here, right now.” you shook your head, lowering your voice “We agreed we wouldn't talk about it. You promised me you wouldn't bring it up again, Steve. You promised.”

You adored your best friend, you honestly did, but moments like this you really wished you had not told him a single word. Not that he wouldn't have figured it out by himself. He was a persistent man, standing by his opinion no matter what. And this time, seeing as he was somehow convinced your feelings could be reciprocated, he did everything in his power to convince you to act on them. He was the only one that knew the truth and you didn't really know if it was a blessing to have someone to talk to about it or a nightmare with how he acted.

“I try but it is too hard seeing how idiotic the two people closest to me can be.” he crossed his arms over his chest, making you frown for a moment in confusion “And I'm still having a hard time understanding why. I get that you have trouble opening up to people, more than just get it. I know how it is. I'm not the most open person exactly, either, and the thought of getting attached to someone is terrifying given the job we do. But it's not just someone, someone random, we're talking about here. There is nothing to be shy abo-”

“I'm not shy about a damn thing, Steve, stop saying that.” you huffed, giving him a hard look “I'm a grown-ass woman who has saved your ass and the world at the same time, more times than I can count. I'm not some schoolgirl to be shy or crushing or daydreaming or whatever word you wanna use again about- about me and you-kow-who.” the fact that you couldn't even say your name for fear of him somehow being around and hearing did make you look no more mature than a schoolgirl.

“All I'm saying is that if you opened up more, you may be surprised in ways that you couldn't even imagine.”

“Oh like him telling me he feels the same? Well, let's see: you are his best friend, practically his brother. He confides in you, trusts you with his life and everything important to him. Has he told you he sees me as anything more than a friend?”

“Well, he-” he paused “No, not really. He doesn't seem to want to talk much about it... you, with me. Like when I bring you up he gets too stiff but I- I see the way he looks at you! He may not admit it-”

“Because there is probably nothing to admit! It's all in your mind and I can't get my hopes up over just a feeling, Steve.”

“Look, all I'm saying is-” he sighed, shaking his head “All this- All this waiting, and pining because you know that's what this is-” he pointed a finger at you before you could get to retort “You know that's exactly what this is! Waiting and hoping it- it goes away somehow? That your feelings for him are something that will just pass like a scratch on knee, or that you'll cover it up and it will be like they don't exist? This is not how it works. You have to try your chance because if you don't then you'll only live to regret it, and I know you will the same I know it's not something that goes away. He may not see it, but I do. And the way you look at Buc-” he stopped himself when your eyes widened, he sighed instead and raised his arms in surrender “The way you look at him, the way you care and-” he stopped himself, shaking his head before slowly approaching you again.

“For god's sake, the way you love, (Y/n), that is not something that can easily be found. This love that you have in you, this big heart that you are so willing to give without a second thought, the care and selfless devotion is- it's one of a kind.” he slowly wrapped his arms around you, looking you carefully in the eyes “You are one of a kind. And anyone that has even part of your love should thank his lucky stars because it is a blessing to be loved by a woman like you. Waiting is one thing, but to be loved like this and not know it, it would be the biggest tragedy in one's life, (Y/n).”

You knew he was only saying everything because he wanted to help you out, to give you a push as gentle as possible towards the right direction. How right was it for you to confess to his best friend that you've always had feelings for him for so long and possible ruin the dynamics and relation you'd built with all of them (besides making a terrible fool of yourself), you didn't know. You were scared to even think of telling him the truth when you could barely utter a few words in his presence because of that treacherous heart of yours that jumped around like crazy whenever he was near.

“Says the world's leading authority on waiting too long.” you mumbled as a weak excuse, knowing he was right, and let your head rest on his chest as he tightened the hold around your waist.

“Yeah, well, speaking from experience I suppose.” he kissed the top of your head “I just want you to be happy, you know how important you are to me. And I would hate to-”

He didn't, however, get to finish his sentence when another voice was heard “Hey, Steve, you done with those-” but his words were also cut off as he breathed a low, gruff “Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Wha- No, hey, Buck. Not interrupting.” Steve gave his friend a soft smile, pulling away from you and giving you a chance to take a goo look at his friend, and a good look you did take “Just having a word here with (Y/n). Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”

“No I uh should've thought so. Judging from the heartfelt words and all that. I shouldn't have assumed you were talking to yourself, I suppose.” he was mostly speaking to Steve but his eyes were mostly on you, a soft smile on his lips though it didn't reflect on his eyes at all. After barely half a beat, he spoke to you “Hey (Y/n). How you've been?”

“Hello Bucky.” you smiled as well, your throat closing up “Good, you?” you asked and he gave you a soft nod, without taking his eyes off you. Not that you did either. How could you?

Even if somebody were to warn you about it, it would never be able enough to prepare you for what you were seeing. You always knew and would easily admit that the man was good-looking, but this- this even more attractive than you could even imagine. You had seen photos of him back in the days, with his hair shorter and his face on full display, but to see him in person was a whole other thing. It took your breath away to have his eyes fully on you and not for a second hidden. It felt like his whole face was more open, even though his features were still somewhat clouded; the weight on his shoulders wouldn't go away anytime soon that was for sure. But to be able to be like the man he was back then was more than in looks, he could slowly feel like him again.

“Because that would have made so much sense now, wouldn't it?” Steve spoke up.

“Probably. I don't know, I just heard the last sentence anyway, so-” he shrugged, his eyes only stealing a glimpse at you before looking away in what seemed like guilt which you could not understand “Apologies about that. If you guys wanna stay alone some more, I can go by the car and wa-”

“Nah we're good here, all that lady's been doing is distract me anyway.” Steve shot you a playful look “Maybe you can help me out here a bit. I'll take this bag to the car and (Y/n) can tell what else we need from the desk.”

“Alright, I-” Bucky hesitated only for a second, his eyebrows pulling into a frown when Steve all-too-eagerly grabbed his only full bag of clothes and left his room, all excited to leave you alone with Bucky and you would have glared at him if you didn't feel terrified “There he goes.” Bucky sighed before turning to you with a soft smile “Ok, so is there anything you need help with?”

“I uh ye-yeah. Steve was gonna gather his drawings next so given they're important we could... do that.” you breathed out a little hastily but also in a low voice as you rushed to get to the desk. Bucky didn't say a word himself, only letting the tense silence hang in the air; while you struggled on the inside to come up with something good enough. It wasn't just that you were shy or quiet, you were always so unsure of what was best to say to the man, fearing you'd mess it up or make a fool of yourself.

“He's got plenty of these, must have felt really inspired hm?” Bucky spoke in a soft voice, looking over at the drawings Steve had done of you. You got distracted for a moment, taking the warmth in his eyes and the smile that look bittersweet if not sad on his face.

“Uh yeah.” you cleared your throat “It was around the time I was trying to get him back to drawing after I found his art. I was a bit shy about it at first but I suppose they're good.”

“His art always was, he's got a way of bringing things to life, capturing things in a different way but this-” he pause, looking up to meet your eyes, locking them in a look that only made your knees weak if the small distance hadn't already “It would never even compare to the real thing. That is one of a kind. You've always been anyway, I don't think there is a single person that knows you and could deny that.”

“I- I'm not that special.” you could feel the heat rise up on your cheeks and forced yourself to look down.

“I didn't just say special. I said one of a kind, unique. As is... everything about you. But then again, Steve has always been lucky without even knowing it.”

Glancing at him you did notice the honesty in his eyes, the warmth that almost reached out to you like that of the sun. If it weren't for his words that had your heart hammering in your chest, you would have paid more attention to the way his smile didn't really reach his eyes or the longing with which he looked at you.

“I suppose.” you mumbled, though you couldn't understand the meaning behind his last sentence. Letting the silence fill the room again you desperately searched for something else to say. You didn't speak much with Bucky but you wanted – despite your fear – to be the one to keep the conversation going because the truth was you loved talking with him “You look good, you got a haircut.”

Well, when you weren't making a fool of yourself that is.

Bucky paused for a moment, looking at you and you really braced yourself for him to laugh at you and call you out on what a stupid thing that was to say. But instead all you got a smile that you would be damned if it wasn't shy. It was almost too sweet for your heart to take, and the way he ducked his head as if some bashful... schoolboy (you almost laughed at the word that came up in your mind) had your breath getting caught up in your throat once more. You had never seen this side of Bucky. Never.

“Yeah I uh-” he smiled, fully smiled, and your own heart jumped to your throat “I thought that maybe it was time for a change. I didn't know if I could pull it off again after all these years but I-”

“No” you whispered “No, you're- you look great, really, Buck.” you confessed softly and his smile only got bigger “Not that you didn't before, don't get me wrong. You just look like you did back in the days. I- I saw a couple photos of you and Steve, and it's- it's good. Real good.” you gave him a small nod, which he return.

The smile stayed on his lips as he admitted “Yeah, truth is Steve was the one that insisted on it for some reason.” some reason, yeah, more like you saying how good Bucky looked with short hair better yet.

“Well, I'm glad you took that choice. It does look great. And... not that I think you had any trouble before, but now you'll have all the ladies swooning over you, you will barely have time for us.”

“That would never happen, never. I would never put anyone else before you.” he spoke with so much sincerity that you had to look away for a second because of the intensity “Besides-” he cleared his throat “Looking forward to go on double dates or something? I figured you and Steve wouldn't have time for us.”

“Steve, probably, he's got a lot on his plate now. But what do I have to do with any of it?”

“I just-” he shrugged softly, frowning “I figured that moving in a new place is... a lot.”

“It is... hence Steve having a lot on his plate. I still don't get what I have to do with that? I mean, sure, I'm his best pal besides you and Sam, but it's not like I'm moving in with him or anything.” you shrugged with an smile, focusing for a few moments on the drawings before you.

“Oh I thought-” he paused, nodding his head before he let out a soft breath “Well, I suppose I was just assuming. It's not like... this changes anything, right?” his words were so hesitant that it confused for a second.

“...No? Why would it? Steve is still Steve. Things are and will continue to be the way they've always been.”

“I mean-” he cleared his throat again, shifting in his place “You two are good right? Like, together and all that, you're good?”

“Just like we've always been, Buck, I don't understand why you're asking this. Honestly... Is there something not right with you, maybe?” you asked softly, trying to meet his eyes even though he avoided it.

“No, why would there be?” he swallowed thickly, nodding to himself “And besides, I should've thought so.” he offered you a smile, albeit weak “He wouldn't have given up a chance with... A chance to the life he would've had for something that's not important. As far as that is concerned, I don't blame him. I would do the same.”

“You... you mean Peggy, don't you?”

“I-” he shrugged softly “I didn't really wanna mention her in case... Well, he did leave her for you. He stayed here, didn't go back to live his life with her. Which, again, is the right choice. To tell you the truth, I feared for a moment that we wouldn't see him come back from that time travel unless he was graying and old.” feared, and that terrible part of himself that was too selfish, hoped he would stay back in time to have his life with Peggy so that Bucky could maybe get a chance with you in case-

“But he did come back.” you whispered “And he did it for all of us, there's no reason to give me all the credit, Bucky.”

“I mean, you're still the main reason. And as I said, he did make the right choice. Hell, I know that if he had even so considered staying back there, I would have kicked his ass for it. But I guess I'm more than glad you two are so good like this, that I didn't need to.” liar, he knew he was such a big liar for saying all of it.

“Main reason, yeah sure.” you breathed out a laugh, feeling proud with yourself for how casual you sounded “Just say what's on your mind, Buck. Steve's so tired of my single sorry ass that he had to stay here to make sure I don't end up being a crazy cat lady. I mean can I blame him? No. I can't even tell the guy I... the guy I like how I feel about him.” you shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

You were saying things you never thought you would, but feeling bold maybe you would slowly get somewhere in the end “I'm sure Steve's just gonna snap one of these days and tell him 'She likes you you idiot, for fuck's sake do something cause I'm sick and tired listening to her talk about you non-stop.' and I'm not even joking. That will be it, word for word. So-” you let out a low laugh “I better hold him back huh?”

“What?” you did expect to see such a dark and serious look to meet you when you finally looked at him “What did you just say (Y/n)?”

“That... you know, with me being single all this time, Steve might try to set me up with- I'm sorry.” you shook your head “Did I say something wrong? Was it something that I-”

“You're... what?” his voice was so gruff that you felt even more worried.

But before you could voice your concerns, your best friend was walking inside the room again “Sorry for the delay, though I suppose you guys barely noticed my-” but he stopped himself when he was met with the hardest glare you had seen Bucky give his friend “Uh is everything alright?”

“We'll see about that.” his voice was deep “Come on. You. Me. Talk. You have lots explaining to do.” he took a deep breath, looking at you for a few too long seconds too many emotions on his face for you to tell apart, before looking back at his friend “And it's been long overdue.”

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ally-writes-many-things · 3 years ago

Text

Heh, always loyal, huh? (Eric King) Part 2

Summary: You were Eric’s assistant who he was been seeing for the past few years while still married to his wife. Eric and you were ordered to go to Camp Slayer to find where the chemical weapons are, but things go awry when you are literally dropped into the middle of Earth.

Words: 4k ish

Prompts:

Requested: Yes

Warning or A/N: Blood mention.

Tag list: @fruitcup4prez @thefictionalgemini

You were in a helicopter for the second time today and it was your most hated thing about your job, you weren’t necessarily afraid of heights but more of the fact you were flying at an incredible height over enemy territory. After saying a few things to Nick who was checked out, he addressed the boys.. “Get your game face on boys. We’re coming in fast,”

You really weren't paying attention to the coverstations on the helio as the boys were saying some stupid yo mama jokes. These grown ass men are acting like immature little boys. This is one of the reasons you didn’t hang out with the boots. You looked over at Rachel and she was looking forward, I don’t think she was paying much attention to the boys either. “Are you doing all right?”

You looked over at Eric and smiled softly.. “As I can be,”

“You two wanna cut the bullshit and focus on the mission?”

You didn’t hear what was said but obviously something that Rachel didn't like. Merwin looked at Rachel with so much disdain. “Hey. That’s the second female whose told me that and there’s only one place I let a woman boss me around like that and that’s between the sheets,”

“I’m surprised your mom lets woman into your bedroom, don't want her getting jealous, now,”

You chuckled and so did the rest of the team.

“Damn,”

Nick, Merwin, Joey, and Jason were the first ones to get off so they could make sure everything was safe before Rachel, Eric and you landed. It took a few minutes but they eventually cleared it. You guys started walking up to the houses when Jason walked out of one. “Lieutenant Kolchek, a sitrep, if you will,”

“No shots fired, sir. No casualties. The farm is secure and we are processing captives,”

Eric kept asking questions. “Have you located an entrance to the underground silo?”

“Negative sir. If there is one, it’s well camouflage,”

Eric stopped walking which made all of us stop. “‘If there is one?’ What does that mean, Lieutenant?”

“We have yet to do a full search, we’ll find it, sir,”

“You took a risk giving up the element of surprise, Lieutenant. But it looks like it paid off. No casualties and clean work,”

“Thank you, sir,”

“Nonetheless, any hideout Irquis might now be on high alert,”

“My team is ready for anything, Colonel,”

Eric nodded and looked at you. “You stay out here with Nick while Rachel and I go in to talk to captives,” You saw Merwin walking out of the building and Eric walked over to you and whispered to you. “No fighting with Merwin,”

You looked back at him and didn’t bother to whisper. “No promises,”

Merwin looked at you and then Nick. “That went smoothly,”

“You think?”

“Got the place locked down tight than a virgin’s-

Rachel was done playing Merwin’s games as much as you were. “Do NOT finish that sentence. Are they ready for questioning?”

“Yeah, just don’t ask them any tough physics questions,”

Jason looked around at the others. “Stay sharpe if anyone even raises an eyebrow, I wanna know about it,”

“Copy that,”

You walked closer to Merwin and Nick. “I don’t know about you but there’s something not right with this place,”

“Oh yeah? So is that this, uh, women’s intuition I keep hearing about?”

If you were back on the other place, you would’ve already gotten Merwin to shut the fuck up but you knew that Eric needed you to keep calm and focus on the mission itself but there’s only so much shit you can take. “Yeah, you want to see what happens when you piss it off? You are dangerously close to pissing me off and you’re not gonna like it,”

“Oh the barbie thinks she can take me on,”

Nick turned around and looked up at Merwin. “Merwin. Stop. She’s here for a reason. I think it’ll be funny when she decks you but you gotta quit fucking with her, man,”

“Come on, can you not see it? She’s fucking King,”

You knew that Eric wanted you to keep the peace between you and Merwin but at this point, you couldn’t hold onto your anger as your fist connected with his face. The impact wasn’t hard enough to make him bleed but it was hard enough to make him take a couple steps backwards. “I’m here because I’m good with tech. I’m here because I’m good at weapons. I’m here because I’m good at research. I’m here because I’m trained because my specialty besides technical things is first aid. I’m here because Colonel King needed someone he trusted. I’m here because I’m good at my job. Now if you’re gonna keep saying stupid shit, you’re gonna get hit again,”

Nick laughed. “I told you bro. Also that bandana is cool, where’d you get it?”

You had forgotten that Eric had put the bandana around your neck and reached up and touched it. “Oh it was given to me by someone close to me,”

All the sudden, you heard something crash loud, which made you jump a mile in your skin, then the gunfire started. You ran and took cover over by the stone fence then you saw that you and the team were under fire by Iraqis. You grabbed your gun out of the holster and started shooting back. Whatever was happening, it was happening way too fast. You couldn’t get a single thought in, all you knew was to shoot and cover yourself. After a good amount of gun fire, you heard another explosion but the smoke was white. You didn’t know why but then you remembered Eric was talking to Jason and Nick about White Phosphorus. One of them must have just used it. You took a moment to look around and you saw everyone was shooting to save their lives. You looked to your right and saw Eric standing there but the moment you stood up to try to run over to him, the ground started to shake and it swallowed you.

You had just woken up on the ground in some type of cavern, as you started to move around dust had started going everywhere which in turn made you cough. “Get up Y/l/n,”

You sat up okay, no pain. You wiggled your fingers and moved your arms, no pain either. You looked down at your pants and saw that your right pant leg was ripped and you were bleeding. You sighed and reached down to finish ripping the pants leg off. . You saw that there was a pretty big gash on the side of your leg. You felt for the strap of your backpack and you said your thanks to whoever as you felt it still on your back. You took the backpack off and started rummaging around it to find what you needed to clean it and dress it.

Your backpack was always filled with first aid items as someone that is specialized in it. You looked to see if there was any debris in your wound, which there was not. You took your water bottle and poured a bit of it on your wound to clean it, then took the alcohol wipe and started to clean the wound outward, dried it and then bandaged it up and wrapped gauze around it. While cleaning the wound you came to the conclusion that you weren’t going to need stitches but it’ll probably leave a nasty scar. You put the backpack on your shoulders and slowly got up to see if you could put any pressure on it. You could but only a little as pain shot up your leg but you couldn’t sit there and waited til it stopped hurting, you had to find the other others. You had to find Eric.You didn’t want to yell as you didn’t know what could be down here, Iraqis or something else.

You didn’t know how long you were walking or well limping until you heard yelling. You cautiously walked towards the yelling so you could make sure it was your team not the Iraqis. When you made that turn you saw that it was Merwin yelling as he was trapped in multiple ropes and they were cutting deep into it to where he was losing a lot of blood and Nick and Jason were trying to cut him down. You walked up to them by the time you got up to them, they’d finally got Merwin down. “There’s morphine in my pack, get it,”

You saw Merwin grunting out in pain and knew that the pain was what was gonna take him out. “Hurry the hell up,”

Nick and Jason looked up at me for a quick second before Jason went back to rummaging through the pack. Jason was struggling to find the morphine in Nick’s backpack. You walked up to Merwin and swung your backpack off your shoulder and opened one of the side pockets and grabbed the morphine bottle and basically forced fed it to Merwin. “Y’all should’ve double checked your bags before leaving to know where everything is. First aid 101,”

Your body turned as it reacted to hearing a loud screeching noise coming closer to you four. “What the fuck was that?”

Jason and Nick pointed their guns but as the screeching got closer, they decided it was best to run. “MOVE! MOVE!”

You followed Nick and Jason who were dragging Merwin with them. You looked at the blood trail that Merwin was leaving. “He’s gonna bleed out if we don’t do something about that,”

Nick and Jason pulled him into a cavern and pulled him to the very back of the cave thing and Jason went to defend us and Nick stayed with Merwin. You reached into your backpack and grabbed cloth to hold down on Merwin’s wound until what was chasing us would stop but Merwin kept yelling in pain and it was drawing whatever was out there to us,. “Why isn’t the morphine working?”

You shrugged. “It’s not kicking in fast enough,”

Nick placed his hand over Merwin’s mouth to keep him quiet. You took your eyes off what Nick was doing and looked down at the cloth you were holding on Merwin and it was already filled with blood but there was nothing you could do until you weren’t in danger, your clothes were covered in his blood. When you looked back, Merwin’s face was trying blue. “Nick, you’re suffocating him,”

He looked down and saw that Merwin’s face was turning blue and lifted his hand off his mouth just enough to get him a breath of air. After a few times doing that, Merwin finally passed out but it was too late as you saw some fucking creatures coming for you. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT IS?”

Jason didn’t have time for Nick to play around so he picked up Merwin and threw him over his back and took off running. You followed them as there was no other option but to follow them. You kept running until you spotted a place that you thought you could be safe in but Jason had made a sound and whatever these creatures are, they took Merwin and finished killing him. You three, didn’t have time to process this as you had to keep running to save your lives. You didn’t stop running until you heard Rachel on the coms. She said something about taking fire but when Jason tried to reach back to her, there was nothing.

You heard someone talking but you couldn’t make it out but as soon as you got to an opening you saw that it was Eric struggling to stay on the cliff. You and the other two ran as fast as we could to get Eric and Nick had managed to save Eric from slipping off the cliff. Eric was yelling for Rachel but she wasn’t answering. Nick pulled Eric onto solid ground. Once Eric was on solid ground, Nick had looked at him and grabbed his tactical vest. “Where’s Rachel?”

Eric looked like he couldn’t take much more. “We were ambushed by the enemy. He opened fire on us and Rach. She fell. I held on. I held on as long as I could,”

Eric was on the verge of crying and you couldn’t fault him for that as much as it killed you. Rachel was his wife. You knew he still loved her and that’s something he couldn’t help. Nick quickly looked over the edge and tried to call out for her but she didn’t answer. You started to walk up to Eric but Jason told us to keep moving. Nick pointed over to an entrance with the flashlight on his gun. “Over there,”

You don’t think Eric even saw you, which again, you don’t fault him for. You walked into what looked like a temple and Eric walked forward. “Be careful, he could still be here,”

Jason didn’t care about the Iraqi. “Right now, Colonel, the Iraqis are the least of our problems,”

You turned around and looked at the entrance and saw that they weren’t coming. “They’re not following,”

Eric turned and saw you. Finally saw you. You could see he was forcing himself not to come over to you and scoop you into his arms.

Jason grabbed his walkie and talked into it. “This is mailman two one actual to all callsigns. How copy? Over,”

No answer.

“Joey, report in, over,”

Nick walked closer to Jason. “Joey’s dead,”

“The fuck you talking about?”

“The Iraqis tore right through him. He died in my fucking arms,”

Jason sighed. “Aw no, not Joey. How do we get out of this?”

Jason shut the door to the entrance. “We got to lock this place down. Form a defense perimeter and buy ourselves some breathing space,”

Eric walked toward Jason. “Lieutenant, what did you mean by the Iraqis are the least of our problems?”

“Do you believe in God?”

“Absolutely not,”

“Well, start believing we are under attack by..I don’t know what. You wouldn’t even believe me even if I tried. I don’t even believe it and I was there,”

Nick was looking around the area that we were in. “Monsters,”

“Monsters? Come on. You’re jumping at shadows!”

“Sir, with all due respect-”

“Lieutenant, we’re trapped down here with an enemy Iraqi, maybe more. Whatever you think you saw, it's bullshit,”

You sighed. “Eric,”

He looked at you. “What?”

“It’s true. There’s fucking creatures down here that are fucking bloodthristy. They fucking snatched Merwin up and killed him like it was nothing. I respect you and all but don’t fucking undermind what we just spent who fucking knows how long running away from,”

Jason just stood there looking back from me and Eric in disbelief of how I just talked to the C.O. At this point, you don't care about who's in charge and if I’ll get yelled at, oh well. No one's gonna try to tell you what you, Nick, and Jason just went through. Eric just stood and looked at you in pure shock at the tone you just spoke to him with. He opened his mouth to say something but you held up your hand to make him stop talking. “Before you say anything, I really don’t care if you don’t like my tone. You can reprimand all you want. You can fire me. You can do whatever you like but you’re not gonna discredit what we just went through,”

Eric closed his mouth and didn’t say anything. Nick, who had been quiet throughout me going off on Eric, had been looking at the surroundings. “These statues,”

Jason wasn’t dealing with Nick all too well. “Nick! Take a mental picture and snap the fuck out of it,”

That didn’t even bother Nick as he turned around to look back at the surroundings. You were seriously wondering about him. “What is this place?”

“It’s not the Silos that for sure. This mission is a bust,”

You looked over at Eric and you can clearly tell he is beating himself up over this. “I can fix this. The satellite. I’ll go over the data to improve the algorithm. They’re clearly teething problems,”

“Understand, sir,”

“We should move on,”

You started to walk to look around the room but it went out. The only lights that we had were the lights coming from our lights that were above your ears. Jason looked between you both. “Stay and guard the entrance. We’ll check it out,”

You watch them walk further into the darkness, hoping, praying that they’ll be okay. You didn’t say anything to Eric, you didn’t know what to say to him. It was maybe a few minutes before the lights turned back on. “Dropkick, this is Mailman Two-One Actual. We’re heading deeper. Over,”

“Acknowledged. You be careful in there. Dropkick out,”

Once the lights were turned on, you looked over at Eric and didn’t care anymore. You didn't care. You didn’t care if Rachel knew. You didn’t care that anyone knew. You just wanted, no, you needed to be held in Eric’s arms. You dropped your gun and ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. He took no time in wrapping his arms around you and hugging you as tight as he could. “I thought I’d lost you,”

You didn’t want to talk, you just squeezed him harder not wanting to let him go so you buried your face into his chest. Once you held on to each other for long enough, you pushed off him and stood on your tippy toes and kissed him. He placed one of his hand on your cheek and kissed you back. The kiss didn’t last too long because you didn’t want to be distracted for too long.You pulled away from him and he took a look at you. You looked down at your neck and he grabbed the bandanna and slightly tugged on it. He then looked you up and down and noticed that your clothes were covered in blood. He looked at you. “Is-Is that your blood?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s Merwin’s,”

His hardened face softened and he backed up. “It’s all my fault, you’re here. If I would’ve-”

You walked to him and grabbed his face because he refused to look at you. “Eric, you’re not the one who made me come here. CENTCOM asked me to come and I told them yes,”

“Yes, but I should’ve made sure the satellite findings were accurate and-”

“Listen to me, you didn’t know this was under here. You didn’t know. You’re not to blame. You were just doing your job,”

Eric finally looked up at you and his eyes were filled with sorrow. “It is my fault, no matter what you say. It was my findings that led us here. It was my data that Merwin died. It’s my fault that Rachel is gone. It’s my fault we’re stuck here,”

You shook your head. “Then it’s my fault too,”

Eric pulled his face out of your hand and looked at you bewildered. “How is it your fault?”

“After you found the first set of data, CENTCOM came to me and asked me to look at it and give a second opinion and I agreed with you that it looked promising. CENTCOM was having second thoughts about sending a team here until I said it was a good place to look,”

Eric looked confused. “How come you never told me this?”

“You never asked,”

Eric grabbed your hand, brought them up to his lips and kissed them. “Is that why you came on such short notice a couple of years ago?”

You nodded. “CENTCOM thought we’d be a good team,”

Eric chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think they planned on us being that type of good team. I didn’t even plan on falling in love with you,”

You gasped at that. This was the first time that he’d ever said that in the year that we were sneaking around. “Falling in love?”

“Yes, in love. I’m crazy about you. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved before. I just needed to tell you this in case, we don’t-”

You quickly removed your hands from his and placed them on this face. “I love you too,”

You two just stood there like this for a good moment just taking everything in. “Dropkick, this is Mailman Two-One Actual. Do you copy? Over,”

Jason’s voice broke you out of the moment you two were just sharing. “Dropkick receiving. How’s it going out there, Kolchek?”

“Your friend sprung an IED on us. We’re good but you might want to keep your eyes open. In case, he’s left any more love notes. Over,”

“Copy that. Moving up. Dropkick out,”

You bent down and grabbed your gun and started making your way to find the others. It took a few minutes before you finally found them but there was just standing there looking down a tunnel. “Hey, someone wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

Jason was the first to speak. “We heard Joey through the tunnel.”

“We think we heard Joey,”

“It was him alright. We’re gonna rescue him,”

Eric nodded and cocked his gun. “Good, I’ll take the lead,”

Jason got in his way and stopped him. ‘I’ll take the lead,”

Eric backed down and let Jason take it. You were walking down the tunnel and you haven’t heard Joey again for a while but you countined you with the rescue mission. Eric was reminding them to keep checking their weapons and ammo. He tried to contact the outside world but nothing came through. You eventually came across items that Jason and Nick recognized as Joey’s. Eric walked towards Nick and looked at him. “What actually happened to him?”

“He died. Whatever’s out there now, it sure as shit aint Joey,”

“Well in battle, these things are often difficult to judge,”

Nick didn’t like the way Eric said that. “I know what I saw,”

Eric seemed to believe him. “My God,”

Eric started walking in front of everyone and you all followed him. “We just have to hope he’s still alive. We lost enough today,”

The team stopped walking again. Nick walked up to Eric. “I’m sorry, sir. About Rachel,”

“Is that so? Kolchek told me you people called her Queen Bitch,”

“Not by me. I knew her better than that,”

You picked up on what he meant by that but Eric didn’t. Was Rachel also having an affair? With Nick? You kept your mouth close and continued on walking. Jason noticed that they were losing focus. “Stay focused. Don’t let this place fuck with you!”

You coutined you on the path until you got to an opening. You walked into the opening and Nick found a paper that was from 1946 explaining that they have found some pretty great things. It goes on to say that a member of this team named Mary found a crate of explosives that another member named Crow was going to use. Mary wasn’t too happy about it because it could destroy the items that were done here. Crow then returned to pick the explosives and told the other two that he had found something and that’s where the note left off. “What the hell did they find down there?”

“I don’t know but whatever it is, it can’t be good,”

Nick looked at you and was about to say something but you heard yelling and grunting. Jason started walking towards where it was coming. “He’s close,”

“This is fucked up,”

“Be quiet,”

“We’re walking into a trap,”

Nick walked into a little craven and there was a big and deep hole. “How deep is this hole?”

“I saw fissures like this back at the temple. Best guess is the quakes opened them up,”

“Let’s just keep going. We know what we’re facing now. Eyes up. Stay frosty,”

You continued until you saw a light but whoever this was, was not Joey as they started shooting you. You quickly took cover behind a boulder and started taking shots at this enemy. “Gerande!”

You saw the gerande land but it wasn’t close enough to injure you but it was close enough to Nick that if he didn’t jump out of the way, it would’ve injured or killed him. After the explosion, rubble had blocked Nick in.

#eric king x reader #eric king #eric king x you #house of ashes #house of ashes eric king #dark pictures house of ashes #dark pictures x reader #jason kolchek #rachel king #nick kay

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thesmokingguns · 3 years ago

Text

24 Hours

Word Count:3454

Request/ Summary: “Can i request one where nicki gets turned down by their makeup artist or like stand in manager and hes upset and he finds out the the manager just doesnt sleep with people she just met”

I tried to write this where she breaks rules for him and turns him down. He understands what her restrictions are but he can see that living by her strict rules she created for herself she is making herself unhappy.

I hope I hit the prompt you wanted!

A/N: This turned out longer than I expected it to be so sorry about that one. I do have three requests I’m writing right now on top of some of the stuff I am writing so you can all still make requests but I'm going to be saying it’s a two week wait for a new request right now. I also want to say I am going to write a third and fourth part to the 3am Duff series because I have no self control. Thank you for everyone being patient with me and all your kind words! If you want to be added to my tallest please message me or go HERE

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all�� , @agroupiewhore , @ayablackwood

You were having a bad day. Not just a bad day but one of those days where everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. From morning to night it was the literal day from hell for you.

8:12am You woke up, an hour after you had hit snooze on your alarm, twelve minutes after you were supposed to leave your house to get to work.

8:34am After throwing yourself together and rushing out the door, you were running out of the apartment with the cup of coffee you had economically and time consciously thought to make. On the last step before you had escaped into the day you slipped, the hot coffee spilled all down the front of your red dress, because of course it was the one day you weren’t wearing black. Rushing back up the stairs you realized that the keys to get into your apartment were in your apartment, hanging on the hook just out of reach behind the door. So you would be going to work in your coffee dress.

9:01AM You made it to work, only thirty-one minutes late. Your boss wasn’t happy that you were late on a Friday, thinking you had done this on purpose as some slight to them. Which meant they had pulled you in the office and chewed you a new asshole.

They also told you about coming to work in a clean, tidy appearance as if you had wanted to be wearing your coffee.

As you were being yelled at you watched the line back up and couldn’t help but think about how yelling at you was just making the situation worse. You also were also thinking about how next time you’d just call in sick instead of being late.

11:59AM One minute before you were scheduled to take a break, one fucking minute, and the crazy man came in. Throwing his shit smelling money at you and proceeding to vomit all over your window.

Your window, your mess. So instead of having a much needed timeout from the day from hell you were trying to scrub the smell of puke off a counter.

1:47 PM You finally stepped out for lunch. Moving to the payphone to call your roommate. She thankfully answered on the second ring of the apartment phone. At least the door would be unlocked after work, which was one thing you had been worried about.

She was quick to tell you about how she had gotten you a gig for the night. Knowing how you wanted to travel, you two had come up with a plan a few months ago to find work in Hollywood for bands or on film sets. She had been pretty popular making costumes and helping to come up with whole concepts for the upcoming Glam Rock scene. One of her usual bands needed help because their makeup artist had been sick, so you were going to work for her tonight.

This would be considered a good thing but since it was a trial run you were not going to be getting paid for this gig. So your time would be free. The makeup you used on them you needed to provide. And you have to be there at 5PM to set up, which is the exact time that you need to get out of work. Your roommate agreed to help set you up and she was going to bring you a change of clothes to the gig. It would be fine because the band wouldn’t need to be made up until 6 or 7 but it was just another thing on your plate.

So you would be losing money that you needed to pay rent on a bunch of entitled rock stars who would probably not hire you and this whole night would just leave you feeling exhausted and annoyed. Really looking forward to it.

3:49PM Your coworker went home sick with a headache so now you had to do twice the amount of work and there was no hope in hell that you would be making it to the gig in time tonight. That great first impression that you would need to get an actual long job was gone. And you were stuck with a line out the door of people trying to cash their checks all seeming to want to kill you. Happy Friday.

5:02PM You were running down the street, thankful you worked around the corner from the venue. A sigh of relief left your lips seeing your roommate waiting for you. She dragged you inside pushing you towards a bathroom and giving you a bag of clothes to change into. You lined your brown eyes with the kohl liner, winging your eyeliner and adding a deep burgundy lip shade that complimented your darker skin.

“Y/N, hurry up.” you rolled your eyes, repacking the bag and heading out where your friend was waiting for you. “I put your makeup in the dressing room already. It’s not set up yet.” she pulled you down a few hallways. Equipment for the band was more around as they started getting ready to set up everything for the show.

You entered the dressing room, seeing there was a table for food and drinks set up, a rack of costumes for the band to wear, and finally a vanity where your makeup bag was sitting ready to be unpacked. Your friend handed you a cup, pouring a few fingers worth of vodka into it before splashing in some juice to help the taste.

“Cheers,” you tapped red solo cups drinking heavily. If you weren’t going to get paid for the gig you might as well take advantage of whatever free perks came with it.

6:23PM Sitting on the couch, legs crossed, you were chatting aimlessly with your friend when the door opened and a man walked in looking at you confused.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m the makeup artist for the night.” you were quick to introduce yourself not wanting him to think you were another girl who was just trying to sleep with the band.

“Mick.” he moved to pour himself a full cup of straight vodka, “Can you do my makeup now? The three pretty boys take too much time.” Ushering him into the seat you started out on him, wondering what the hell he meant about the other guys being divas.

7:45PM A blonde burst into the room, seeming surprised that you were standing there. The girl on his arm laughed too loudly and you looked over to your roommate who was handing Mick a belt to wear. She just shrugged, this was normal for her.

“Vince, new makeup artist. You should sit now before the Terror Twins stumble in.” Mick warned him. He pulled away from the girl on his arm headed over to your chair with an easy smile.

“You're going to make me prettier, doll?”

“I’m thinking that you would look with some blue eyeshadow. It would really complete your Malibu Barbie look.” You retorted, watching amused as his mouth dropped open, not used to having someone give it back to him.

You hated cocky assholes who thought that they were God’s gift. There was nothing wrong with a man who was confident but the way that he was looking at himself in the mirror as you did his makeup you knew he was the type that thought he was above everyone else.

8:21PM Two men burst into the room as you finished up Vince. Looking at the two taller men you let your eyes wander over them. Vince was a diva but there two were going to be where you had the most trouble. They must be tber terror twins Mick had mentioned.

One of the guys fell into the chair, laughing about something as he sipped the beer he was drinking, rubbing his nose. He lit up a cigarette as he sat back in the chair not seeming to care if it was annoying that he was blowing smoke in your face as you tried to work.

You bit your tongue, annoyed as you tried to work around his cigarette, that he almost burnt you with seven different times. As you worked you could feel a set of eyes on you. Looking up you saw the man he had walked in with, staring at you with these intense olive eyes.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be interested in any of these loudmouth guys, who all seemed to be drunk and hyperactive. It was kind of like you were doing makeup for a bunch of chimps instead of men.

8:55PM Finally the last man was sitting in your chair. His eyes gazing up at you with such intensity you stopped moving around to just look at him.

“Have we met before?” there was something familiar about him and you wondered if you had met him at a bar or at a show before.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m Nikki.” Usually when a guy used a nickname instead of your given name you chalked it up to them being a douchebag but with him it seemed natural and not derogatory, “Thank you for coming out to do our makeup today. I heard the other artist got sick at the last minute. We appreciate you taking your time to help us out…” he left it blank waiting for you to give him your name.

“Y/N.” You were surprised by how talkative he was. The kindness in his tone is different from the way the other guys have been. Just when you thought he was different you felt a hand on the back of your thigh, “If you don’t get your hand off me I’ll break your fingers so you can’t play tonight.” you warned him, looking into the olive eyes gazing up at you.

He was too good looking. The type of guy you could get into trouble with if you allowed yourself but you wouldn’t be taking home a stranger tonight.

“Do you always talk to your clients like that?” he asked with a coy smile on his face. This was the type of smug you liked. The funny easy going type who could make you laugh if you had not been on your feet for twelve hours.

“Only the ones that don’t pay me.” you replied, swiping his eyeshadow on. You wanted this to be over so you could go home and sleep.

The drummer came over, bumping into the vanity and knocking the eyeshadow off and not seeming to notice as the makeup smashed into a thousand pieces on the ground. You were officially losing a lot of money on this job and didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“Jesus, T-Bone, watch where you’re going.” Nikki commented, watching you start to pack everything up, “Aren’t you sticking around to watch the show?” You shook your head. “Why don’t you stick around and I’ll take you out after for a late dinner. As an apology for this being a bust for you.” You were sure that the way he smiled and how his eyes were so clear made it easy for him to pick up chicks but you weren’t going to be one of them.

“I had a long day. I’m not going out with you.” You zipped up your bag ready to leave

“Listen, Y/N, just stay until we go on. Maybe I can talk to someone and you can get paid for coming out.” You did need the money. So reluctantly you stayed.

9:57PM You shouldn’t have stayed. Nikki had seemed to think you telling him you were not going out with him was a maybe you’d go out with him.

It had been an hour of him sitting on the couch getting to know you, asking questions and being nice to you. Men weren’t nice to you just for the sake of being nice, they were born without the concept of human decency.

But he had also talked to their manager, pointing at you and saying stuff you didn’t get to hear. Now you were stuck in a weird limbo wondering if you were going to get paid.

11:15pm The band rushed on stage and you were pulled aside by the manager. He handed you and envelope that you knew contained cash.

“The boys are going to have a few California gigs. If you can stick it out for a couple weeks I’ll consider hiring you for the tour. I’ll pay you $100 bucks a gig and you need to bring your own supplies to start but if you go on tour you’ll get a contract.” He said. You agreed and he handed you a piece of paper with four dates, the upcoming week, times, and his phone number to call if you couldn’t make it. There was also a chicken scratch handwriting with the name Nikki and a phone number

You were stunned when he walked away. You not only got paid but you have jobs lined up to make even more. It was a dream.

Looking up, you moved towards the stage watching the bassist move around the stage. He was high energy, loving what he was doing. There was this presence about him that drew you in. If you did get the tour position that would be trouble.

11:59PM You had finished packing up and we’re heading out of the venue to head home. You were ready for your bed and a few hours of sleep. The guys were playing tomorrow and you wanted to not be having a bad day.

Trying to sneak out, you almost jumped back when four sweaty men came barreling into the room. Your heart instantly went to your throat seeing Nikki. His smile dancing across his lips, hey black hair stuck to his forehead just oozing self confidence and sex appeal.

“You’re leaving so soon?” You just nodded at his question, wondering if it would be considered rude to tuck his hair out of his face. “Did you call a taxi or need a ride? There’s a lot of unsafe riff raff out this late.” He warned and you almost thought he sounded concerned.

“I’m a grown woman. I can walk myself home. It’s only like 15 minutes from here.” His eyebrow raised as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you won’t.” You shoe back, “I don’t know you and I don’t leave with strangers I’ve only known for one day.” You responded. It was practical to have rules to keep you from getting hurt.

“Well, Y/N, we’ve known each other for two days now since it’s past midnight.” He was so calm saying this to you, “And I’m trying to cut back on drinking so if they see me leave with you I won’t be harassed so you’ll really be doing me the favor.” Thinking about what he said, your tongue licked your top lip nervously. The way his eyes followed this motion gave you your answer.

“Thank you for the offer. I’m going to say goodbye to my roommate. I’ll see you in 20 minutes outside?” You gave him a smile and saw the way he was melting under your touch as you moved away from him.

You moved over to your friend letting her know you were leaving and you’d see her at home.

12:22 AM Adjusting the bag over your shoulder you weaved through the crowds pouring in and out of all the clubs. No one ever really bothered you walking home. It was just the cat calling and guys thinking that they had a right to run their mouths

“Y/N.” You frowned hearing your name. The roar of a motorcycle speeding up had your eyes looking out on the street.

Oh Shit. There was Nikki, looking at you with a line where his smile had been, his kind eyes looking annoyed at you. You had left him after saying you’d let him take you home but he was too pushy.

“Get on.” the steely tone of his voice made you stop what you were doing, thinking of what to do next. People were looking at the pair of you, some probably recognizing Nikki from his band. You rolled your eyes, stepping forward.

“Listen to me, I’m not getting on. I don’t know you.” His look softened and it was like for the first time he understood what the issue was.

“I just want to make sure that you make it home safe. I know you don’t want anything happening to you. It would feel like my responsibility if you went missing after doing the band's makeup.” you rolled your eyes. Eyeing him and the bike. It had been a long day and it was onlya five minute drive. What was the worst that could happen?

1:02AM The worst thing that could happen was happening.

When you got on the back of Nikki’s Harley he had asked where you lived. As he drove, you wrapped around his back you realized for the first time of the night you were smiling a genuine wife smile.

Watching the lights of the Strip and the hustle and bustle fly by when wrapped around his warm body, the noie drowned out by the roar of the bike was nice. It felt good. So when you pulled up on your street and he asked if you wanted to drive around more you didn't say no like you should have.

Weaving around the empty highways with just the pair of you was nice. There was no conversations but it felt like you two were getting to know each other on another level.

3:55AM Nikki pulled the bike into a donut shop on the side of the highway. The smell of fresh baked pastries and coffee brewing awakening you much like the wind whipping your face had been keeping you awake but it had been almost twenty four hours awake.

The pair of your ordered black coffee and a donut, sitting on stools at the counter and eating in a comfortable silence.

“Are you mad at me?” He didn’t have a cheeky grin on his face like you had expected but he was serious. “I know you said you wouldn’t go out with me but it just seemed like you were having a bad day and I have a hero complex.” you snorted when he said this. Surprised he admitted that he had a heroes complex.

“I’m not mad. I got on the back of your bike and stayed out.” you thought for a second, “I think I needed it. I always follow my rules and never break them. I think sometimes I need a break from the rules I create.” you said all this with your heart beating wondering what the hell you were doing with this guy in the middle of nowhere.

5:41AM Nikki had wrapped his leather jacket around you, both your boots abandoned by the motorcycle as you sat with toes in the sand watching the sun rise over the Pacific. You hadn't even seen the sun rising over the ocean before so you were wrapped up in the orange and golds of the sky, how the inky black of the water came alive into blue and purple hues with the light.

It was beautiful.

It felt like something was washing over you as you watchined it. Something was changing as you watched the sun start a new day. A new day that you had this feeling in your bones was going to be a good day.

Wiping a tear away, you took a deep breath remembering that you had moved here to make your dreams come true and for the first time it felt like it was going to happen.

A hand on your back reminded you that you weren’t alone. His olive eyes looking at you, concerned. You wiped a tear away trying to laugh it off.

“I never saw the sunrise over the ocean. It’s beautiful,” It was at that moment, wrapped up in the beauty of everything that you realized that he was going to kiss you. The way his hand was against your check, wiping the tears away.

But you surprised both of you leaning forward to push your lips against his. Making the first move. You were breaking all of your rules for him but it felt good and you could tell you would be breaking more rules with him

6:00AM It was going to be a good day.

#nikki sixx fanfiction #Nikki Sixx #Nikki Sixx headcanon #Nikki Sixx X You #Nikki Sixx X Reader #Nikki Fucking Sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfic #Nikki Sixx Imagine #Nikki Sixx writing #Nikki Sixx Request #Request

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wincestation · 3 years ago

Text

Just Tonight

Prompt: Stanford Era

Pairing: Sam x Dean

Summery: Inspired by the song "Just Tonight" by The Pretty Reckless. Sam drunk-dials Dean in the middle of the night and tells him he needs him, but after a year apart, is one night enough?

Word Count: 2,059

Written For the SPN Trope Round Robin 2021 (@spn-trope-round-robin) - Round 3 (Remix/Inspired By).

A/N: My first SPN writing challenge ever! I really enjoyed this one. Hope you do too! also, @stanfordsweater your brand is in there for a moment ;)

Read on ao3

Sam’s world is narrowed down to the sound of the dial tone. He waits in the cold, his breath forming visible little clouds. Finally, someone picks up on the other end.

“Sam.” he sighs heavily. “It’s 2am. On a Wednesday.”

Good, Sam thinks. He’s in the same time zone as me. “Dean, I need you.”

“What?” Behind Dean’s voice, Sam can hear the engine of the Impala rumbling to a halt in the background and the familiar sound almost makes him cry. “What do you need me for?”

That question has too many answers, and Sam can’t think straight, he just knows he’s cold and alone and tired and he needs his brother. “I need you to take me home,” he says in a pathetic, tiny voice, leaning against a tree to keep his head from spinning.

Dean tries to sound sympathetic, Sam knows this, but his words come out patronizing. “Can’t you get a cab or something? Or... walk?”

“Dean, please.”

“It’ll take me forever. I’m in bed.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in the car.” He feels sick. Dean never lied to him before.

His brother might be thinking the same thing, because he doesn’t reply.

“C’mon, De, please.” Sam is begging but he doesn’t care, he’s the one who left, he’s the one who hurt Dean, and if Dean wants him to beg, he will. He’ll do anything. “Start the car and take me home.”

“You’re drunk.” Dean says in disbelief.

Sam slides into the Impala and slouches against the seat. “And a bit high,” he confirms.

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” and Sam knows he meant it as a joke, but he can’t say anything because the lump in his throat threatens to overflow if he does. He gives Dean the directions and leans his head on his brother's shoulder, ignoring the voice of reason that screams at him to stop making a fool of himself.

If Dean minds, he doesn’t show it. He drives slower than usual, as if he doesn’t want this ride to end, and for a few minutes, Sam lets himself feel a little hope.

The car stops too soon. “Looks like we’re here,” Dean says. It’s an unnecessary comment just to break the silence and Sam drags his pounding head away from his brother’s shoulder.

When he doesn’t move, Dean adds, “Need me to walk you inside?”

Sam nods. “Please,” and Dean agrees, because he could never say no to his little brother.

They both blink when Dean turns on the living room light. Sam groans and sinks into the couch while Dean looks around.

“Nice place. How can you afford - “ he stops abruptly and Sam raises his head.

Dean is holding a framed picture of Sam and Jessica, both smiling happily at the camera. She’s wearing his Stanford sweater - the one he has on right now, in fact. Dean looks at him and Sam knows he noticed that. “Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Sammy.” his voice is bitter and he puts the picture down as if it was burning his fingertips. “So you two live together, huh? Where is she?”

“She’s - not here.”

“Is she out partying on a Wednesday, too? When is she coming back?”

Sam winces. He doesn’t want to talk about Jessica right now. “I don’t know,” he says.

Dean turns to him with a cold smile. It’s the smile that Sam fears most - the one that doesn’t show his teeth, doesn’t reach his eyes. “So you invited me in, for what? So we can wait here for your perfect little girlfriend and - “

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam cuts through his words. He stares at Dean angrily. “Not anymore.”

Dean looks genuinely surprised. “What, she… left you?” Sam nods. “Like, for good?”

Sam pauses for a moment. “She’ll come back eventually.” Before the cold smile can return, he clarifies, “To pick up her things, I mean.”

“Oh.” Bitterness gone now, Dean looks a bit lost in the middle of Sam’s Stanford living room, and Sam almost laughs. Dean was always better at dealing with broken bones than with broken hearts - but it’s not like Sam himself was any better. The memory of the last time he saw his brother starts to creep back at him, and although he banishes it away, it kills any chance of laughter.

“So…” Dean starts, looking at Sam, as if he wants him to say something. When he doesn’t, Dean continues, “Unless you want to cry into your pillow while I stroke your hair...”

“No - don’t go.” Sam blurts out.

Dean just stares at him. Eventually, he says, anger underlining his words, “So you want me to stay, and, what? Get you through your hangover, help you get over your breakup with college Barbie? Is this what you meant when you said you needed me?”

Sam’s too hazy to properly respond, can’t even see straight. “Just tonight, Dean, please.” His hands reach out to the edge of Dean’s jacket and he grabs handfuls of the leather, bringing Dean as close to him as possible, trying not to sob his next words, throwing any inhibition away. “Please, De, need you to stay with me.” He knows his eyes are probably leaking. He doesn’t care. He looks up to his brother’s face, trying to memorise it so he can remember it tomorrow, because right now he can’t decipher what that look of his means.

Dean grips Sam’s hands and holds them for a moment. “Just tonight.” He says at last, and lets Sam drag him onto the couch and wrap himself around him. The anxiety that bubbled up in him is settled down, and Sam allows himself to relax into his brother's arms; even if it’s just tonight.

The light hits Dean’s eyes and he blinks furiously before finally making out his surroundings. A moment later, last night’s memories come back to him and he sits up, completely awake.

He can hear the shower running. His nose picks up the scent of coffee - and toast, too. His watering mouth is what makes him get up eventually, and when he does he feels his clothes stick to his skin, a reminder that he slept in them last night. Sam did, too. They didn’t even bother with as much as kicking off their shoes before drifting off to sleep - together, legs tangled, arms holding each other close.

Because that’s normal, right? Nothing says “Hey, Sammy, I missed you” like a casual brotherly spooning, Dean thinks grimly and sits at the kitchen table.

He nibbles on a slice of toast while contemplating his next move. Sam is bound to leave the shower soon - it’s taking him forever, what a princess - and Dean has to be ready when he shows up. He let himself slip last night, lost in the face of Sam’s desperation, that genuine need… But he shouldn’t have stayed. He should've tucked Sammy safely into his bed, say goodnight and drive the hell away from this stupid prissy college.

Dean braces himself when he hears the water stop. Any moment now, Sam will enter the room, apologize for calling him up, and send him on his way.

Dean is already thinking of a way to tell his father about this (cuddling excluded, of course) when Sam steps into the room, casually rubbing a towel over his wet hair, completely naked.

“Dude, what the - “

“Oh - shit, Dean, I thought you were still asleep.” Sam flashes an embarrassed, apologetic smile as he wraps the towel around his waist. Dean feels heat creeping up his cheeks and tries his hardest to repress it, seriously, it’s supposed to be Sam who blushes like a girl, while Sam sits in the chair in front of him and grabs a piece of toast.

Trying to keep his eyes away from his almost-naked brother, Dean stares at the clock on the wall, trying not to think of it as counting away his time. Finally he asks, eyes still fixed on the clock, “Don’t you have classes or something?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders. “Professor is sick,” He says with his mouth full. “Want me to show you around campus later?”

“Show me aro - aren't you going to apologize?” Dean snaps, moving his gaze back to his brother. He lets more anger into his words than he intended and he curses himself for it, but it’s too late to back out from this conversation now.

Sam swallows his food, troubled, and sets the rest of the toast aside. His hands drop to his lap, where he plays with the towel, until finally he says, “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have done this.”

Disappointment starts to bloom in Dean’s chest like blood stains through a t-shirt and he pushes it away violently. This is exactly what he was getting ready for, so how come he still has any glimpse of hope? “Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

“I was just so - “ Sam won’t look into his eyes, and traces of last night’s desperation start creeping into his voice. “When you told me all those things, I, I panicked. I was already pretty unhappy for a while - you know me and dad, always butting heads - and that was kinda like a final push or something.”

Dean has a weird feeling in his stomach. “Sam, what are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to apologize, Dean. Please, just let me finish.”

“For drunk dialing me last night and dragging my ass out here in the middle of the night,” Dean says, not asking, trying to convince himself that this is all the conversation is about.

“What?” Sam looks at him. Dean notices tiny tears hanging from his lashes, like fish caught in a net. “No. For leaving you.”

The silence thickens while they look at each other. The clock keeps ticking away in the background.

“I told you to forget everything I said,” Dean says eventually. His voice is hoarse even to his own ears.

“But that’s the thing, Dean,” Sam speaks quietly, “I just couldn’t. Even here, all those miles away from you, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I tried to put it all behind me, find a girl, build myself a normal life… But I couldn’t.” His eyes are focused on the towel and Dean’s head is working overtime to make sense of this.

Sam sniffs. “I know I hurt you.” He says in a small voice. Dean sees right through him - sees his teary-eyed baby brother, who simply did something he isn’t proud of and now aches for his forgiveness. “I said things I regret.”

“Called me sick,” Dean reminds him, mercilessly. “Said I needed to go see someone to fix everything that’s wrong with me.” Many other things were said, too, but those are the only ones he can bring himself to repeat.

“But that’s the thing, Dean,” Sam lifts his head at last and meets Dean’s eyes. His eyes tell Dean he’s right - this is his best, desperate attempt to fix this. “I don’t think you’re sick anymore. I think I know how you feel.”

What is he saying?

“I tried not to, tried to run away from it. But nothing else was enough, no one else was.” He’s visibly crying now but he continues, and Dean realises Sam needs to say those things, not just to him but out loud, to make them true, to make sure there’s no turning back. “De, you’re my big brother. And I love you. I don’t care if people think we’re sick, okay? I want to be with you - “

Dean doesn’t know how he got there - he doesn’t remember getting up - but he’s kneeling next to Sam, reaching up to brush away the tears, and it’s hard to reach his face because when did his baby brother get so freakishly tall? “It’s okay, Sammy. Don’t cry.”

“Mean it, Dean. I need you. I can’t - not without you.”

Dean stands and hugs Sam’s teary face to his chest. “Not going anywhere, Sammy. I’m right here with you.” Sam wraps his hands around his big brother and they melt into each other, bright morning sunshine and the smell of burnt, forgotten coffee, and little drops of water and tears mixing together and they don’t know where Dean ends and Sam begins but that's exactly what they're craving, wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wincest #wincest fanfiction #spn trope round robin #sam x dean #my writing #stanford era #hurt/comfort #eventual fluff #sam needing dean so bad he cries is apparently my thing now

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tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

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Return To Sender

Ok so I was eating a corn on the cob earlier and it made me realize how similar it is to.....other things. So this came out. Yes, a corn on the cob prompt.

Don't judge me. Or do. Just enjoy.

PART 2

You had been working at SVU for several months now, and you loved every moment of it. Especially the moments with the ADA, Rafael Barba. You couldn’t deny you became enamored with him the moment he walked into the squad room on your first day. But you kept your little infatuation to yourself; at work anyway. When you would go home to your childhood best friend and current room mate, they’d ask you to spill details of your day, and many of those details included Rafael.

This one particular evening, Amanda had invited you out to eat with the squad. You hadn’t exactly “bonded” with anyone yet, and it was a welcoming gesture that you happily accepted. To your delight, the “squad” included Rafael! You desperately tried to hide your excitement as you followed Amanda to the back of the restaurant where the gang already had drinks and a calamari appetizer.

“I uh, I didn’t realize we were going fancy,” You sheepishly stated, after greetings of welcome were exchanged.

“I didn’t think Fazolli’s counted as ‘fancy’. Liv and I come here all the time” Rafael shrugged.

“Any food that doesn’t come out of Styrofoam containers is fancy to me, counselor,” You bit back with a bit more attitude than you meant. Rafael raised an eyebrow at your sudden bold demeanor.

“Ah. Well, I suppose we could take up a collection plate for you to eat something,” he smirked back as he sipped his scotch.

“Rafa, don’t be a dick. If you need a spot sweetie I got you, i invited you,” Amanda gave you a sympathetic look.

“I don’t think she’d have any trouble getting any guy to buy her anything in here,” Sonny chuckled, gesturing to your outfit.

Okay, so you were younger than them; Significantly younger. You couldn’t help it you were a child prodigy, graduating college at 18. And instead of being a rocket scientist, you used your many scholarship offers to go through the Police Academy AND Law School, because you wanted to use your smarts to help people. So yes, you were quite younger than the rest of them. Probably a big reason this was the first time you had been invited out to their “Grown Up” dinners.

You glanced down to the outfit Sonny was referring to; nothing fancy. Although you had to admit it showed off more cleavage than any of them were used to seeing on you. You blushed and pulled your jacket over your top and grabbed a menu to cover your red face.

“Thanks, I think,” You muttered a small thanks to Sonny, to which he winked back. Good lord maybe this wasn’t a great idea. You flipped out your phone and texted your roommate, begging them to help you get through this. You discreetly dictated the progression of the evening, like a play by play in a football game.

However as the night went on, you became more and more comfortable with your coworkers. They really were wonderful people; and the three drinks you had didn’t hurt either.

“Damn Y/N, I didn’t realize you were so funny!” Fin laughed, recovering from one of the jokes you had continually kept in the conversations all night.

“Oh yeah, Clown College is one of the most prestigious degrees I have in my collection,” You nodded your head as if in a subtle bow.

“That’s right, you’re like a child genius aren’t you?” Liv asked; she had definitely noticed that when she went over your resume to hire you.

“Emphasis on child,” Rafael muttered with food in his mouth. The group stopped laughing and glanced at him with perplexed looks.

“Really man?” Sonny asked with a hint of defense in his tone.

“Oh it’s fine, old man river is just upset he's not the center of attention for once,” you smirked at him without missing a beat. He huffed and muttered grumblings in Spanish under his breath while the rest of the table chuckled in amusement. Nobody had dared to mess with the big bad DA in social settings, he was scary enough in the courtroom.

You were so engrossed in the little cat and mouse game you were playing with the man you’d been obsessed with for months that you had forgotten you were in the middle of a conversation with your roommate. Your phone finally began vibrating on the table, causing Amanda to notice.

“Someone waiting on you?” She asked. “Boyfriend maybe?”

“Or a sitter, perhaps?” Rafa once again tried the young thing, but he was a bit more drunk than earlier and his quip made no sense.

“That would mean I HAVE a kid, counselor. Which I do not.” you rolled your eyes.”Or a boyfriend,” you added with a smirk. Oh God why were you being so brash NOW? Reign it in there, Don Juan.

You quickly jotted a text to your roommate letting them know you were ok and that the evening was going significantly better by the moment, and you’d tell them more when you got home later.

Not a second after you hit SEND did Amanda’s phone go off in her pocket. She looked at it with an amused smile.

“Uh how sloshed are you, newbie?” She giggled, starting to read the text.

Your face drained of all color, your expression frozen in fear. Oh God OH GOD she’s going to read that, let’s just say, ADULT detailed text you had just sent. You watched her expression go from amusement, to confusion, to absolute delight as she looked between you and Rafael. The rest of the table looked at each other in confusion, as she added “Ok ya’ll listen to this,”

Was she SERIOUS? She was going to read this intercepted text of your most private thoughts ALOUD to all of your coworkers?!

“Oh um, Amanda you know I really don’t think…” You tried going for her phone while looking at her with pleading eyes.

“Ok Ok, you’re right. I’m just teasing girl,” She smiled as she patted you on the back, and you started to relax back into your chair. That is, until you heard Sonny’s voice next to you:

“Oh my God the way Rafael is sucking down his corn of cob definitely confirms my thought of him giving EXCELLENT head,”

Your head spun so fast you swore it might have twisted off like a Barbie doll as you saw your phone was left unlocked and open on messages right on the table, and Sonny had just read a text you had sent your BFF earlier!

The entire table fell silent, Olivia had done a spit take as Sonny was talking. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at ANYONE, you just snatched your phone off the table and stuck it in your lap while glaring holes into the floor. Should you leave? You should probably leave. Would it be worse if you left?

“Wow Y/N I am so sorry, I just...I ain’t the smartest guy and sometimes I read stuff out loud without thinking and I...I shouldn’t have been lookin at your messages,” You heard Sonny’s soft apology, but it sounded so far away. Oh God, were you having a panic attack?!

Suddenly, you hear a boisterous laugh that knocks you back to reality. You lift your head slightly from your lap to see Rafael laughing and shaking his head.

“So that’s why you're so mean to me, carino,” he smiled, dying down his laughter. “You have a crush on me!”

Oh good God, you’ve had nightmares go better than this.

“Wha-- n-n-no, you’re mean to ME, counselor,” You found yourself shooting back at him like a five year old.

“Oh good lord, just make out already!” Fin laughed, the others followed suit. The two of you locked eyes and blushed before quickly looking anywhere else but each other.

“Um...you know maybe I should go, I have court early tomorrow,” Rafael cleared his throat, gathering his belongings.

“Let’s all just agree the last 10 minutes never happened, yeah?” he proposed to the group, who all nodded back with amused smiles.

“I’ll see you all on Monday,” He nodded to the group as he got up from the table, walking behind your chair.

“....And for the record, I AM excellent in that area,” He whispered in your ear. Your face turned hot, your core tingled. Your head whipped around to confirm what he had just said, but he was already out the door. Did….Did you just make that up in your head?

You glance at the now three remaining dinner mates, huge smiles on all of them back at you.

“Well, I guess you’re welcome then!” Sonny laughed, Amanda hit him in annoyance.

Yeah. That had DEFINITELY just happened.

#rafael barba #raul esparza #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #svu #law and order svu

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mlqcconfessions · 4 years ago

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So i think tumblr sent my ask before I could even tell you what’s on my mind. Lol. Oh well. Let me start over, heyyyy!! So big fan of your blog here. ☺️💙 Never fail to brighten my day. May I ask, how do you think it would be like if MC isn’t a producer but have a different job? (Like say, a medic or whatnot) How will she be able to interact with the guys (and possibly fall in love with them?)

Thanks for the request! Sorry this took so long to answer.

To make things interesting, I gave MC the boys’ occupations (minus Shaw, because he doesn’t have a clear job(?) yet). There may be slight spoilers regarding certain backstories. Also, MC will already be in a relationship with the guys.

Enjoy!

MLQC Headcanon - More Jobs than Barbie

Victor (MC as *police officer*)

Victor wasn’t always supportive of you joining the police force

He was concerned that you would be overworked by the other seniors in the station (but who would dare to, honestly)

But when he saw how passionate you were, he quickly changed his mind

He technically owns a part of the station? (as a part of a partnership with LFG)

Despite his extremely busy schedule as THE CEO of THE LFG, he always finds time to pack you lunch

He won’t hear any excuses as to why you had to settle for 3 choux buns today

“Victor, we were trailing a suspect!”

“If you faint on the job, it’s a bother to your co-workers” (he says while feeding you his homemade fried rice)

He was irritated one day when he noticed you came home without your lunch box

“Oh, Tony (bringing back the LEGEND) forgot his, so I shared mine with him”

“........did you now....”

You know that face too well

“Don’t worry! I made him promise to return it tomorrow” (Dummy, that’s not the issue here)

The next day, Victor didn’t leave a lunch box on the table like usual

Maybe it’s because Tony still has my lunch box?

You went to your shift without giving it much thought

Lunchtime came around, but you still didn’t have anything to eat

“MC? Here’s your lunch box” (you turned around to see Tony standing there with your box)

“Ah, thanks!”

“Uh...if you don’t have any plans, do you wanna go eat somewhere?”

“Yeah sure, I didn’t bring food anyways!”

“Who says you don’t have food?”

A chilling voice suddenly appears behind you

“Vi-Victor?” (Tony’s jaw drops in fear)

He’s holding a lunch box you’ve never seen before, stacked with 3 layers of cooking by Souvenir’s finest

He tosses your old lunch box back to Tony

“She won’t be needing this anymore”

Kiro (MC as *neurologist*)

Your work as a scientist was demanding, without a doubt

But it’s not as tiring as answering Kiro’s endless array of questions

“MC! What does this one do?” (Kiro, stop pressing those)

“Will this turn my hair purple?” (Kiro, that’s anesthesia)

“Look at this! My knee is going all bouncy!” (Kiro, put that reflex hammer down)

It’s like setting a kindergartener loose in a zoo

It’s not like you hated him being there when you worked

If anything, it was really adorable (especially when he looked at you so intently with those bright, shining sapphire eyes)

He has his own corner in your lab (he spent 5 days decorating it)

He bought a mini-fridge to hold the sweets, and a pantry for the chips

He doesn’t visit ALL the time, though (and it actually feels lonely without him)

When he has work, he would call beforehand (he says you can eat the cake on the top shelf of the fridge)

Kiro likes taking naps on the couch by your desk

It was originally meant for YOU to use (something about letting your brain rest along with your body)

But he’s the one sleeping in it (Savin has to drag him out when he has a schedule)

Because he’s not authorized to handle the materials in your lab, he just stands close to you while you work

But he INSISTS on wearing a lab coat like yours

“We’re matching, MC! Do I look like a scientist?”

One day he brought stole glasses from his stylist because he wanted to look smarter (gosh he’s precious)

He spends so much time at the center that all the other scientists keep expecting him

Some of them were fans of Kiro, and figured out the way to his heart was by feeding him food

Which was a lie, since the only person he opened his heart to was you

He just doesn’t turn down food

Lucien (MC as *CEO*)

He was always proud to call you his fiancée, especially when you’re running such a huge company as its CEO

Lucien’s job as a neurologist and researcher meant he wasn’t able to be with you for long (and same with you)

You became so lonely that you decided to invest in Lucien’s lab

“MC, are you sure you don’t want to discuss this with Anna and the others?”

“Yeah! I’m just happy I get to see you more often now!”

Lucien laughs softly (What am I going to do with this sunshine)

But that doesn’t mean you’re terrible at your job

If anything, your ability to run one of the biggest companies in Loveland is immeasurable

Before your father passed, he made sure to teach you everything there is to know about entrepreneurship

Thanks to him, and with the help of your trusted employees, you’ve never ran into major problems

You’re happy with your job, and satisfied that you can continue what your father did when he was alive

Plus, you get more time with Lucien

He sometimes visits your office to give reports on how the various projects the lab is working on (it gives you a boost every time)

“Wait, hold that pose!” *click

When he’s reporting, he always changes out of his usual lab coat and into a suit (because he is meeting his “Boss”, after all)

And you take OOTD pictures to save in your hard drive

He never says anything about it

In fact, he enjoys it as much as you do

He loves it even more when your face turns red after Minor walks in on your photoshoot session

“HA HA! Boss, have you been doing this every time Mr. Xu comes?”

You say nothing, and just bury your face on your desk

Lucien doesn’t say anything either, but the smile on his face marginally grows more sinister

Minor senses something is wrong and nearly drops the files he was holding

“We-well, have fun Boss!” (he dashes out the door in an instant)

You look up and see Lucien tidying your messy hair

“What’s wrong with Minor?” (didn’t he bring the files I need to sign?)

“(he tucks your hair behind your ears and smiles) Hmm.... who knows?”

Gavin (MC as *idol*)

He had heard from his sources (Minor) that you graduated Loveland University with a major in the performing arts

He knew you would pursue this field from the beginning

After all, he would listen in on your rehearsals for the plays in high school (he never told you, of course)

He was afraid that you might be uncomfortable if he was there, with all the rumors going around about him

That’s why he never attended any of your plays (he paid no mind to Minor’s constant begging)

Instead he liked sitting on the theater roof, happily drowning himself in your voice (the same voice that saved him that day, when he discovered his Evol)

The day you reunited with him was when you were filming a show outside

He had to do a double-take when he saw you surrounded by cameras and fans (Isn’t that guy getting a little TOO close??)

You actually spotted him too, but pretended not to (you were still caught over the scary rumors about the upperclassman)

But that was nearly a year ago

Now the two of you are in a relationship (something neither of you thought was possible)

He knew you weren’t allowed to date publicly because of scandals, but he still wanted to show off his beautiful “Ginkgo” (which is what your name is saved as on his phone)

The only other person who knows is Minor

He doesn’t go around blabbing about it, but he does tease Gavin any chance he gets

“Hey, Gavin. Guess what I have for you (he hands a limited issue of your exclusive magazine)? There was only 1 copy left, and I got it for you. Now you can go brag to your cop friends”

Gavin promptly yanks the magazine away from Minor, who has an unbelievable grin on his face

“Shut it”

He doesn’t give back the magazine, though

This was such an interesting prompt to write! Thanks to @aliaisreal for the amazing request!

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chrwrites · 4 years ago

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Bad Ideas - Chapter 1: “I'm his girlfriend”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I wrote this for @astronavigatrix for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirer Exchange! The prompt was Fake Dating and I decided to write '5 Times Luka and Marinette pretended to be dating and one time they didn't need to'. I had a lot of ideas for this and I ended up splitting it in chapters. I hope you like it! 💖

read on ao3

Marinette's mouth twisted at the scene in front of her, an unpleasant feeling making her stomach twist.

Luka was standing in front of his locker, nodding at a girl Marinette had never seen, a polite smile on his face as she got way too close. She was tilting her head, one finger twirling around a strand of platinum blonde hair as she raised her free hand to his arm. Her long fake nails danced slowly up and down his bicep.

His expression twisted in annoyance and he tried to shrug her off and put some distance between them, but yet again she leaned in and all Luka could do was roll his eyes at whatever she was saying.

Marinette grit her teeth. Didn't that girl notice how uncomfortable she was making him? Or how he wasn’t really enjoying her presence at all? Damn, Luka wasn’t even the type of person to show his annoyance like that. He was usually calm and collected. What had she done to make him act like that?

Marinette couldn’t just stand there and watch without doing anything. She had to do something before that girl, whoever she was, made Luka feel more and more uneasy. She watched him look down, his fingers twisting the spinner ring on his thumb, before deciding to take action.

“Lu!” she called, sliding her arm into his as soon as she was close and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as a greeting. She felt Luka stiffen before he relaxed into her, his eyes wide in surprise at her unexpected display of affection. “Marinette?”

The girl in front of them finally took a step back, a startled expression forming on her face while she studied them. She blinked before speaking. “And you are..?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Marinette.

Marinette frowned, but her mouth twisted in a sweet smile as soon as she looked back at Luka, “I'm his girlfriend,” she chirped.

Fortunately, her voice didn't betray her. She slid her hand to hold Luka's and squeezed tight, looking up at him.

His eyes were wide, and a strangled sound escaped his lips before he shut it close. Marinette giggled and gave him a confident smile in the hopes that it would reassure him. She leaned her head to his shoulder and Luka didn't flinch away, but all he managed to let out as his thumb brushed the back of her hand and tried to keep himself grounded was a choked out “Yeah…” that got him to clear his throat.

“You have a girlfriend? Since when?” the girl asked, feigning innocence in a way that sounded so familiar that made Marinette's blood boil.

Luka opened his mouth to speak, but Marinette cut him off, “That's none of your business,” she snarled. The girl huffed in annoyance, and Marinette glared at her. Luka next to her straightened up and took a deep breath, and Marinette gave a comforting squeeze to his hand.

She then turned her attention back at the girl, who had crossed her arms as her eyes went up and down to study her.

Marinette held her gaze and didn't flinch at the disgusted expression forming in front of her. If she was going to come up with a hurtful comment, Marinette was ready to snap back. It’s not like she hadn’t dealt with disrespectful brats over time, and she wasn’t letting some cheap dollar store Barbie imitation — okay no, actually, she was pretty, but that couldn’t make up for her personality — put her down or harass her best friend. She was Marinette, she was strong and—

“But aren't you a seconde ? Such a shame Luka here's into little girls… you could do so much better,” the girl said in a saccharine voice while fluttering her fake lashes at Luka.

Marinette felt Luka's hold on her hand tightening. She raised her free hand to his chest and gave him a reassuring look, trying to wordlessly tell him that she could handle it, but his jaw was still clenched when she spoke.

“Yeah, I know, a 16-year-old dating a 17-year-old. Shocking,” Marinette gritted through her teeth and pulled Luka towards her, making the girl scoff and check her nails. Good, now they could leave.

“Come on, I don't want us to be late for class,” Marinette said, holding Luka’s hand tighter and walking past the girl. She didn’t miss the chilling glare Luka sent her way.

When they were far enough from Luka’s locker, Marinette started walking faster, as Luka didn't have trouble following her nervous pace with his long legs. The closed doors of the classrooms and the colorful posters on the walls passed through her eyes in a blur even as she tried to focus on them instead of the anger that was building inside her. Marinette didn't want to let some stupid Barbie wannabe ruin her day, but all she could think about were the girl’s words. The deprecative tone in her voice when she called her a seconde and told Luka that he could do much better. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

That was stupid, Luka never failed to remind her how extraordinary she was. Even now as she led him through the school and he followed her quietly, he took the first chance he had to shake her from her thoughts.“Marinette, that's not where your class is…”

“I don't care,” she said, looking for an empty classroom she could calm down in. Luka squeezed her hand reassuringly, and his thumb slowly brushed the back of her hand. Marinette took a deep breath, but his action didn't help her forget about long nails moving on his arm and the words still ringing in her head. It actually made her think about it more.

Who the hell did she think she was?

She had no right to belittle her, to imply that she wasn't worth enough for Luka to spend time with. It didn't matter if it was only because she was trying to hit on him and Marinette was rightfully putting herself between them. She was being disrespectful towards him, invading his personal space, and Marinette couldn't just stand there and watch, right?

No, Luka was her friend and she had every right to rescue him from unwanted attention. It's not like anyone cared about who they were da—

Just as the thought crossed her mind, she realized what she had done, and how Luka had just silently rolled with it and was still holding her hand. Why would she even say something like that?

She picked a turn, opting for the art classroom that was always empty in the early hours of the morning and, when she finally found it, she slammed the door closed behind them.

“Marinette, what the fuck ?” Luka said. His bewildered expression made Marinette’s stomach twist unpleasantly.

She groaned, letting his hand go to hide her face and lean to an empty desk. “I’m so, so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said it, but she was making you uncomfortable and I wanted to help you get rid of her.”

Luka let out a breathless laugh. “By saying that you’re my girlfriend?”

“I couldn’t come up with anything better, I’m sorry! And if you think she’ll spread the rumor, we can just say that we broke up or something. We’re not even together in the first place and I know I was stupid and I understand if you’re mad at me, but I did it because—”

“Marinette,” Luka interrupted her, his hands reaching for her wrists to gently pull her hands down and reveal her face. As he looked her in the eyes, he held a soft expression that made her feel incredibly better. “I don’t care about the rumors. Honestly, I should thank you for stepping in. I’ve been trying to let her down gently, but it didn’t work. I’m sorry you had to deal with her, too,” he said, his voice tense.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently before speaking. “It’s alright, Lu. I’ve learned to deal with that,” she said.

“I know, but you shouldn’t have bothered...” he sighed.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I’m your friend Luka, and friends help each other out,” she said. Luka nodded, but something about him seemed off. She knew Luka was the type of person to handle things by himself, but he never rejected Marinette’s help when she offered it.

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me for saying that I’m your girlfriend?” she asked hesitantly.

Luka looked up at her and gave her a small smile. “I’m not mad at you, Mari,” he reassured. “You’re fine. Just… don’t catch me off guard with stuff like that.”

Marinette nodded and leaned to wrap her arms around him. She felt his chuckle rumble through his chest as he held her, and when she pulled away, she could finally see the easygoing smile she liked so much.

“Who was she, by the way?” Marinette asked.

“Just some girl from Terminale D. We met at a party last weekend and she got a bit clingy,” Luka said sheepishly, one hand going up to rub his neck.

“That's putting it nicely,” Marinette chuckled.

“Well,” Luka sighed, “I did tell her I wasn't interested in her, so having her still trying to catch my attention was kinda frustrating.”

“Just a little bit,” Marinette teased, pinching her thumb and index together.

Luka chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for coming at the right time.”

Marinette giggled, and the uneasiness she felt from making up a lie to rescue him from someone's hold disappeared. “I'll be your fake girlfriend whenever you need.”

You could be my real one.

Luka shook the thought out of his mind. Sometimes the feelings he hid deep down in his stomach made their way back up to his heart, and all he could do was push them down again. They'd already been through this, and Luka was happy with being close with Marinette without wanting more. It was only in times like this, when she was careless and maybe made some stupid choices to help him out (like, for example, saying that she was his girlfriend) that they would resurface.

But he learned how to deal with that. A few deep breaths, thinking about the smell of the Seine, and he would be fine. No more thoughts about being more than friends with Marinette.

They had known each other for years and, now that they went to school together and grew closer, he was happy that Marinette had found he was someone to count on. It was the same for him, even if sometimes it meant that he had to control the impulse to kiss her on the spot or scold himself for staring at her for too long.

The sound of the first bell rang, making Luka wince and Marinette giggle in response. He shook his head, taking a moment to recollect himself and clear his throat before speaking. “Can I walk you to class?”

“Don’t you always do that?” Marinette teased before walking to the door.

There was only easy chatter after that, and Luka took a breath of relief as he realized he was listening to Marinette without focusing on the way her lips moved or the feeling of her shoulder brushing against his. She was complaining about some group project she had to work on in the afternoon when they reached the door of her class.

“Well, let me know if you need to be rescued again from some overly-clingy girl,” Marinette said.

Luka shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “Of course, I will.”

Marinette smiled at him but, before she could reply, the second bell rang.

Luka's hand ruffled the hair on top of her head, making Marinette wince, and his mouth moved before he could even realize what he was saying.

“See you at lunch, girlfriend.”

#lukanette #LBSC Exchange 2021 #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #my writing

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 4 years ago

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⛽️ 🔥 FIRE AND GASOLINE 🔥⛽️ (PART 1?)

Prompt: Y/N’s life has changed drastically, precisely 10 years ago and all because of an adorable lunatic and two little maniacs. But what will happen when a divergency of thoughts leads Y/N and her lunatic to say some pretty harsh words, that they know they will regret it later?

Word count: Maybe too long?

Pairing: Jon Moxley (or even Dean Ambrose if that’s your liking) x Reader

Warnings: For now, just some cursing and angst

Notes: His time has finally arrived and I couldn’t be more nervous about it! This goes out to my sincerely unhealthy love for Jon Moxley and my mixed feelings about having kids (sounds like a good match right?). Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

A light smile formed on my lips as I watched through the kitchen sink window Atticus and Rosie play in the backyard as I did the dishes. I never thought that my life could change for the better with a 6 and 4 years old..and to think that I never thought of myself as the maternal type.

The plate I was rinsing off almost broke on the sink as my body jumped from fright, when a pair of hands embraced my hips

“Oh God, you almost gave me a heart attack! Are you crazy?”

“Not really, just a little lunatic..” He laughed “I’m sorry it wasn’t my intention to frighten you, but once I saw that ass kitten I lost my fucking mind! Just like I did 10 years ago...” His hands roamed on my hips until they reached my ass that he lightly slapped. “Did you miss me, cherry?” His lips glued on the nape of my neck

‘Cherry’ that lame ass nickname he gave me 10 years ago...and all because my cheeks go incredibly red when I blush or whenever the weather gets cold making a huge contrast against my pale skin.

“Of course I missed you! This house gets too boring without you in it” I lightly chuckled

“Is that the only reason why you missed me?” He grinds his bulge on my ass, as an insinuation to what he actually meant by that question

“Jon, the kids are outside...”

“I’m not doing anything, I’m just asking an innocent question kitten” He nibs my neck

I turn around to face him, placing my arms around his neck leaning in for a kiss. It started innocently, but Jon Moxley wouldn’t be Jon Moxley if things were kept innocent.

His hands reached the hem of my tank top, sliding in to meet my bare skin, he roams up til he finally founds what he was looking for.

“Fuck baby, I missed these” He whispers as he softly but firmly squeezes my breasts. As much as I would like to have some fun time with my husband it’s not ‘adult time’ yet, which meant the kids were still up. So no ‘dirty deeds’ for us just yet.

I took the little bit of sanity I still had and broke the kiss

“Jon, that’ll have to wait babe”

He sighs “C’mon Y/N is just a quickie kitten, the kids won’t even notice you’re not here..just a few pumps in, I swear!”

“The last time you wanted to give it just ‘a few pumps in’ I was birthing Rosie 9 months later” I reminded him

“So? We love each other, we’re an adult couple with a beautiful family and a lot of love to give” He nibs my bottom lip “What’s wrong with having another little maniac? I wouldn’t mind! We make some pretty fucking good looking kids, we should start practicing another one now” He vaguely said

Oh God not this again... This has been a pretty heated topic between Jon and I, he was always crazy about kids but I wasn’t very fondly of them. When I found out I was pregnant with Atticus I lost my mind! I wasn’t sure about the whole ‘mommy’ commitment for life thing, I didn’t even knew if I had one single bone of motherhood in me. That soon changed though when I first held Atticus on my arms, at that moment I knew my heart was sold to some stinky bum that would call me ‘mom’ for the rest of my life. Rosie was a surprise too, we haven’t even talked about the possibility of having another kid and I was already pregnant with her.

Right after that the baby factory was officially closed to me but not for Jon, he wanted at least two more kids and I didn’t, he had a bit of a trouble understanding that back then I didn’t even wanted my first one! I love my kids, I would die for them in a blink but that doesn’t mean that I eagerly look forward being pregnant every goddamn year.

Jon’s job doesn’t help either, with him constantly being on the road I do most of the raising when it comes to the kids. Of course he still is an amazing father in the short amount of time he is home but still, I’m the one who has to do the working, cooking, cleaning, give baths, put to bed, take to swimming classes, brazilian jiu-jitsu classes, dentist appointments, running to the emergency at 3am because one of them is suddenly sick while the other one sleeps at the emergency’s waiting room chair, wiping off their tears whenever daddy has to leave again..

“Jon, not this topic again, please” I beg

“What is wrong with me wanting to discuss having another baby with the woman that I love?”

“It’s not that simple Jon, I wish it was but is not” I said slightly angry

“Yes it is that simple Y/N! You’re the one who’s always trying to complicate things” He let go of my hips

Great! Now he’s angry too. That’s just what I needed!

“Jon look, I don’t want us to fight ok? You just got home and we all miss each other so why don’t we drop it for now huh?”

I tried to wave the white flag, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t work with Jon ‘The Stubborn’ Moxley

“Of course you want to drop it, it’s not of your interest is it? No it isn’t! You always do this! Whenever a subject doesn’t matter to you, you don’t wanna talk about it, you’re always so selfish! Always thinking about yourself, never once caring about me or what I want! Selfish as fuck!” He raised his voice

When people say that words can hurt more than actions they were right. If he had punched me in the face it wouldn’t hurt as much as the harshness of his words. To say that I am selfish? After everything I left behind just to be with him? That hurt! And instead of doing the adult thing and keep my mouth shut before I said something I knew I would regret it, I did the Y/N thing where I run my mouth with harsher words than he’s previous ones just so I could hurt him as much as he hurt me

“I’m selfish? Me? Oh you better place the mirror in front of your own face to find the definition for that word Jonathan! You are the one who gets to make your ‘wrestler life’ on the road, living like a single man with not even one worry on your mind while I get behind with two kids and all the shit that comes with the package! It’s easy for you to say it with your 15 minutes FaceTime parenting that you do! In the mean time I have to be the bad guy who has to always say no because glorious dad is on the road chasing his dream for when he gets home he will do all of his kids luxuries so he can try to compensate his absence with Barbie dolls and hot wheels cars! So yeah I’m the selfish one Jonathan, good thing you notice that” I regretted those words as soon as they fell from my lips.

Jon’s eyes briefly showed the hurt caused by them but he soon replaced that with rage and pride before lifting his head up to say

“And is thanks to glorious dad that you have this comfortable house, a nice car and a shit ton of food on your table sweetheart. Let’s be honest here Y/N, how are you supposed to support yourself and the kids with your shitty excuse for a salary? I wipe my ass with the pitiful money that you make” He huffed

I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life. Yes my paycheck was mere cents compared to his, but I worked hard for my money, I was proud to have my own money, to share the bills with him and was proud for not taking the easy path of relying on a rich man to support myself (like my dear old mother proudly did). So the fact that he took something that was so prideful to me and used to humiliate me, made me for once rethink all of our 10 years together and if it was worth it at all.

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes and Jon seemed to have realized what he just said as for he reached his hand to cup my cheek

“Kitten, I-“

“Don’t! Don’t touch me, I don’t want you anywhere near me” I said in between sobs

“Y/N please I-“

“Mommy, why are you crying?” I saw Rosie’s smile die on her lips once she saw me crying.

I heard Atticus’ fast footsteps coming by the french doors to stop by Rosie

“Yay, daddy’s home- Mommy are you ok? Why are you crying? Did you get hurt?” His small but smart baby blue eyes roamed my face and my body for any signs of physical hurt

“Yes stinker, mommy got hurt” I said trying to hold back my sobs

“Where? I can’t see anything” Those clever blue orbs that were a faithful copy of Jon’s roamed through me once more trying to find the injury

“Why don’t you guys come here and tell daddy how much you’ve missed him while mommy goes upstairs to clean up the scratch?”

They just nodded and ran towards Jon, who took them both in his arms

“Y/N” He started but I gave him a look that made him go silent.

I reached the safety of my bedroom, feeling the urgent need to run away. Run away from him, from this house, from this country. Taking with me only the clothes on my body and my two little beasties...the immature part of me yelled ‘do it, do it’ but the grownup in me knows I can’t do this. It’s not fair to the kids, they barely get to see their father whom they love and miss so much. It’s not fair to Jon either, he loves those kids more than he’s own life.

But right now I needed my safe place (or better, person), I needed to breath so I called her and when I received the ok on spending 3 days at her house I packed a small little bag with enough close for just those days, as I was zipping up the bag a faint knock came from the bedroom door soon after being followed by it opening.

“Kitten, can we talk- What are you doing?” He asked in urgency as he bursts into the bedroom approaching me.

“I’m gonna go to Nancy’s” I vaguely said looking at anywhere but him

“Nance? Your sister?”

“She’s the only Nancy I know, so yeah..”

“But why? I just got home, I wanna be together Y/N”

“It’s just for 3 days Jon..you’ll be with the kids, they need you and they miss you” My voice is a faint whisper

“But I need and miss you too! I want you here! How am I supposed to enjoy my family if it’s not complete? I’m sure we can figure it out whatever it is that happened earlier” He grabbed my shoulders turning me to face him and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to look me in the eyes.

“Y/N, kitten, I know that I’ve said some pretty harsh things to you earlier. I’ve been stressed out. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry cherry. Please forgive me baby” He pressed his forehead with mine

That was typical Jon, always pulling the guilt towards himself, he has a hard time understanding that he was not always the only cause of a disagreement.

“Jon, we both said some stupid things ok? This is not all on you, love” I released myself from him, if he continued this close I wouldn’t resist, and right now I need to think.

“Yes it is Y/N. Me and my stupid fucking mouth, not you. You’re perfect kitten”

I scoffed “Trust me, I am not”

“Yes you are! Look at who I am now because of you, I stopped doing drugs, I’m not a drinking mess anymore, I eagerly look forward coming come because I know that the three pieces of my heart are waiting for me, look at what I’ve achieved, what you gave me, how you gave up everything and everybody to be with me”

Oh yeah,that.. my ‘high society family’ was not happy at all when they met Jon, they said that we were a very dangerous combination of fire and gasoline, that we would never be happy. I had two options they said, either them or him. I hated my family and loved Jon so it was a simple math. I left my house and all of the luxury behind to live with him in his ridiculously small one bedroom old apartment. The only person that I still talked to was Nancy my older and just as rebel sister, who gave everybody the middle finger and left the not so humble abode of my family never speaking with them again. So it made sense that the two rebellious black sheeps would become their own family, mine was Nancy and I was hers.

“Jon I need some time to think, we need it ok? Please, we both need to digest what we’ve said to each other. It wasn’t just a simple ‘fuck off’ we’ve said some pretty bad stuff so let’s just process this ok?” I beg

“Are you gonna leave me forever? Please don’t tell me you’ll want divorce because of this...I won’t handle it kitten” His voice was strangled by tears

“Jon-” I was thankfully interrupted by Rosie’s and Atticus’ screams of joy on the hallway as they ran towards our bedroom

“Mommy, daddy the movie is about to start c’mon” Atticus says as he jumps from excitement. They have been wanting to watch Moana for a while now, but only when daddy got home so he could watch it too.

“We’re going buddy” Jon fastly said

“Actually” I begin “Only daddy will watch the movie with you” It crushed my heart to see the disappointment on their faces

“Why?” Rosie asks

“Because auntie Nancy called and mommy’s gonna need to go and help her”

“Is auntie Nana in trouble?” Now it was Atticus turn to ask

“No stinker, she just need momma’s help with something, it’s nothing bad I promise”

“Can you go to Nancy’s after the movie?” Jon hopefully asks, he knows that the longer I stay the less likely it will be for me to leave.

The kids gasped at their daddy’s amazingly smart idea.

“Please mommy, please!” The kids started to beg as they kneeled down to make their begging really serious.

Jon kneeled down too, by my side. I looked at him confused and he just said

“Yeah mommy, please stay” He placed his hands on my hips “Please kitten, don’t leave me” He whispered

And now I have 3 pairs of incredibly beautiful and pleading baby blue eyes staring at me waiting for my answer.

What am I supposed to do?...

To be continued (?)

What do you think? Should this story continue? Would you like to see what will Y/N do? What would you do? Please let me know your thoughts, they are so very important to me and help me with my writing 💕🥰

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