#sitting straight up in bed at night why was i posting about anybody else the most relatable character has been here the whole time

[miami2k17]

craziest thing is being into a show for like years and years and then one day you wake up with a new all time favorite character you never really gave a fuck about the entire time like a sleeper agent

[vivwritesfics]

Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter One

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

2K words

Hello everybody! Long break, I know (life throws curveballs), but I'm taking the blog in a different direction. Hope you guys like my first F1 imagine, I'm really passionate about it.

Series Masterlist

"Hello everybody and welcome back to another episode of Paddock Pals," Y/N said to the camera, holding her microphone in her hand. "Now, if you're new to the channel or don't remember the first installment, Paddock Pals is where cameraman James and I go around the Formula One paddock, dressed in the best disguises, and try to have the weirdest interview possible with the drivers," she explained. "Whoever recognises us first wins the game."

Y/N L/N was maybe the biggest name in Formula One youtube. She brought something to the game that nobody else had - access to the drivers.

Growing up as best friends with Lando Norris had its perks. She got to make a career out of her friendship and got to travel the world. She wasn't much into the sport until she met Lando. Now, she was a woman obsessed.

"As you can probably tell, James and I are not yet in disguise. We're filming this the night before so we had head straight there tomorrow, catch them bright, early, and unaware." She was stood in her hotel room in Australia, going over the previous installment of Paddock Pals. "Last time we got caught out by the honey badger himself, Daniel Riccardo. So, this time around, Danny Ric is going to be helping us out by letting us do a pretend interview with him when we need to."

The cameraman walked over to the mirror, showing himself. "This year we're making predictions on who we think will catch us out. I think it'll be Charles this year," he said. "He's been suspicious for a while, always asking when we're doing the next episode."

"As always, I think it's going to be Lando," said Y/N when the camera turned back to her. "I always try to leave him until last because, if anybody is going to catch us out, it's going to be him."

After that, James cut the camera. They needed a break, a moment to gather themselves together. "You really think Charles?" Y/N asked as they changed over the head of her microphone. Usually, it was the FormulaY/N microphone, but she changed it to a generic black one for the Paddock Pals video. "Not Max or Oscar?"

"And why would I say Max?" Asked James with a grin. Y/N glared, but she didn't push. Charles was a good choice. He spent almost as much time with Y/N as Lando did. Her audience loved him, and she lived to keep her audience happy. That was what brought in the money. "Want to put a wager on this one?"

Y/N shook her head. She positioned herself ready to start filming again. They filmed late into the night, Y/N showing off the props and the outfits they were going to wear for the rest of the video. Her phone buzzed once, and they had to film the whole section again.

By the time they were finished they had barely any battery left in the camera and were ready for bed. James had left to go to his own room but Y/N was sitting on her bed, texting Lando. It wasn't anything important, wishing him good luck for tomorrow and complaining about the heat in Australia.

And then it was a restless sleep. When Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, she stayed up scrolling through her comments. It didn't make getting to sleep any easier for her, scrolling through the comments on her youtube videos and social media posts. There were positive fans, most of them seemed to be young women. But there were some, commenting on her appearance and calling her friendship with the grid fake. Some said she didn't know what she was talking about when it came to Formula One, that she was only there because she was sleeping with Lando.

Of course, none of it was true. It played over in Y/N's head nonetheless. Normally, Y/N would text Lando when this happened, but he was asleep. And sleep was desperately what he needed leading up to the qualifying.

Eventually, Y/N fell asleep, her phone still in her hand.

Y/N and James woke up to their alarms in the early hours of the morning. They got up, set up the camera and got into their disguises. "You're so lucky I was obsessed with special affects as a kid," said James as he attached the fake nose to Y/N's face. He placed a bushy moustache under it and handed her the coloured contacts to put in.

Y/N's clothing was heavily padded, hiding her shape. She had her hair hidden up in a cap and an obviously fake press pass. She just had to help nobody looked too closely.

James did his own disguise. He changed everything but the camera, but they just had to hope nobody noticed that, either. Once they were ready and had given an update to the viewers, Y/N and James made their way down to the paddock.

"A lot of people have been asking us to include Alonso and Stroll in these videos. Truth is, I only do these videos with the guys I'm close with. Fernando is such a legend that I get nervous around him, and I just haven't spent that time with Lance," she explained to the camera as they walked.

"And now, for our first victim," said James.

The drivers that walked past were the ones Y/N didn't have anything planned for. Sargeant, Stroll, Checo Perez. Y/N and James waited and waited until somebody came by.

Oscar Piastri. The poor, young Australian was Y/N's first victim. "Oscar! Welcome to your first home race in Formula One!" Y/N shouted, calling him over for an interview. The second question was normal, something Oscar was happy to answer. But then Y/N got a little strange. "As all F1 fans know, the man who had your seat before you loved to do a shoey. Have you managed to try one yet?" The question itself wasn't strange, but it was about to be.

Y/N slowly eased off her shoe as Oscar answered the question. When he answered no, not yet in Formula One, Y/N passed him her microphone. "Hold this for me," she said and picked her shoe up from the floor. She grabbed a can of beer from her coat pocket and poured the contents of it into her shoe. "Here, try mine."

Oscar's eyes went wide. "Uh, no thanks," he said and passed the microphone back to James. Without finishing the interview, Oscar walked away. Y/N couldn't blame him, she would have done the same.

"Warm up complete. Time for the real thing," said Y/N brushing down the hairs of her fake moustache.

The next driver to walk past was poor George Russell.

Y/N went on and on, asking the drivers the weirdest questions she could think of. Most finished the interview, or walked away before it had finished. Halfway through, Y/N had her interview with the honey badger himself, Daniel Riccardo. It wasn't a real interview, but they made it look as such. The end of the interview was made to look like a success.

After that, Y/N interviewed Ocon, Tsunoda, and Leclerc. Charles went on the longest out of any of the drivers. Y/N asked him questions about Ferrari and how sad he is after almost every race. He looked at her with confusion when she spoke, and Y/N thought she had been found out.

Y/N moved on. It was Verstappen next. Y/N asked weird questions and got the perfect response. He definitely knew, she thought as he laughed. Towards the end of the interview, Y/N felt the hat come off her head, revealing her hair. She gasped and turned around to see Charles stood there, her hat in hand. "I knew it!" He cried, using her hat to smack her shoulder. "I knew it was you!"

"And there you have it, folks," Y/N began, placing her hat back on her head. This time it didn't hide her hair. "This years winner of Paddock Pals is Charles Leclerc! What do you win, Mr Leclerc? Bragging rights, of course," she said and passed her microphone to the Monégasque.

Charles did an acceptance speech. Like everything he and Y/N did together, it was all for a laugh.

"That concludes this years episode of Paddock Pals. Thank you everybody for watching. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and join us next week and in Azerbaijan for the next race."

James cut off the camera. "And we're out," he said and pulled off his fake nose.

Y/N did the same, pulling off the fake nose and the moustache from her face. "Did you have any idea?" Asked Y/N, turning to Max. The heat in Australia was sweltering. Y/N worked on taking off her multitude of padded jumpers, leaving her in a loose, classy shirt and a pair of shorts.

Not answering, Max looked away and let out a laugh. Of course, he knew, thought Y/N. Shaking her head, she turned away from him. "Good luck, Super Max," she said and took her leave, walking away from the Paddock.

It wasn't race day, but her viewers didn't have to know that. It was qualifying and Y/N wouldn't miss it for the world. James left the paddock, going back to the room to begin editing the video. Y/N made her way to the grandstands to watch. She loved nothing more than sitting with the McLaren fans to watch the qualifying and the race. In most laces Lando's fans were her fans, but they were also respectful, asking for selfies before the qualifying began so she could watch in peace.

***

Race day meant race day vlogs for Y/N. Everything from getting ready to after the race, the people wanted to see it all. Y/N tried to dress her best for every race, this time a McLaren shirt with a white tennis skirt.

Cameraman James didn't accompany her for race day vlogs. Sometimes he was in them, watching the race alongside her, but that was a rarity. Y/N had a separate camera for her vlogs. The video quality was worse than when James had his big camera, but the quality wasn't what people were there for.

After having breakfast and getting her final bits ready, Y/N headed down to the paddock. It had become a tradition that she heads down there to wish Lando good luck. She filmed herself going down to the paddock and wishing Lando luck, but turned off the camera after that.

"You look tired," said Lando as Y/N put the camera down.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "I thought my makeup covered it up," she answered, leaning against the wall.

Rolling his eyes, Lando put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her away from the wall. "You could have texted me if you couldn't sleep."

"And make you tired before the race? No way, Norris."

Lando laughed. "You better get going to the grandstands," he said, walking her to the edge of the garage.

Nodding, Y/N followed him. "Good luck out there, Lando Norris," she said and kissed his cheek.

Y/N filmed herself making her way to the grandstands. She turned off her camera for more selfies with the fans and waited for the race to begin.

The race started smoothly. Of course, Verstappen was on pole, but that's why they called him Super Max. He had Sainz, Hamilton and Leclerc behind him. Lando was stuck in the midfield, but Y/N still cheered him on.

Lap twenty and Lando was taken out of the race. "Shit!" Y/N cried, standing up. She watched as he was stuck in the barrier and thanked God he was near the pits. He drove the car into the garage and Lando climbed out.

Biting her nails, Y/N pulled out her phone and texted Lando.

Letting out a breath, Y/N pulled out her camera. "Update on the race, Lando has just retired after a crash. He's okay. He's in the garage right now and the race is still ongoing. Our favourite driver might be out of the race, but our second favorite is still going," she said and put the camera down.

Y/N sat back in her seat. She turned her attention back to the race, keeping her phone on and in her lap in case Lando needed her.

[remyfire]

Here it is anyway just so I don't lose it. Regarding the idea of Trapper offering himself up as a bet for a poker game.

CWs: References to coercion and dubcon.

Trapper being on a hot streak that gets him so keyed up when he suddenly starts losing every single hand. He'd had all these ideas in his head about how much he could buy for the girls with this, how he could get something decent from Seoul the next time he goes through instead of having to pick through some stalls to make sure that there aren't two zippers put in a pair of trousers, one in the front and one in the back. He barely thinks when he goes all in against Hawk in a hand.

And Hawk wins, and just, it's been stressful, okay, and Trapper's not gonna be able to just put this down. He instinctively blurts out, "Nah, c'mon, one more, one more, I can come back from this," and no one at the table is gonna loan him so much as a buck, and Hawk's the one who's laughing and saying, "It's over, Trap, you don't have anything in your footlocker that anybody here wants, get yourself some water and take your ass to bed." And Trapper who blurts one more thing, just. "Me. I got me, all right? One more hand, and either I take the pot or the winner gets 24 hours to make me do anything. Who's in?"

It's so clear he's not being sexual about it. He's expecting them to have him do all their shifts for them, their menial labor, even just make him embarrass himself in front of all the nurses, and everybody knows that. But still Hawk's quiet for a moment while everyone's teasing Trap about the stuff they're gonna make him do around camp if they win. And when Hawkeye finally softly says, "You're offering up your body for the winner to do anything they want?" he's grinning in such a playful way that Trapper doesn't hear what he's saying, just takes it at face value, emphatically agrees. And there's this secret little flare in Hawk's gaze as he says, "All right, I'll take your ante, Trap," and starts dealing out the cards to everybody.

And I'm thinking about Trapper who gets dealt the shittiest hand in the world and just barely holds onto his poker face, bluffing like a champ, completely not paying attention to how Hawk isn't saying a word, seems so deep in his own head about something. And at the end, Trapper manages to bluff everybody else out of the game but Hawk, which means he's waiting for Hawkeye to start shit talking him the moment Trapper lays down his pair of three against Hawk's straight flush. But he doesn't. Just slowly, slowly smiles in a way that Trapper doesn't...recognize right off hand. It's not him mocking Trap. It's kind of like when he scores two new nudist mags in one day, but not quite. So when Trapper takes a deep breath and just drawls, "All right, what'm I doing for you, Hawk?" Hawkeye shakes his head and says, "Go to bed, Trap. Clock starts tomorrow when we both wake up."

And this was all me trying to justify the first image I got, which was Trapper who has been made to just relax while Hawk's on his post-op duty. Has just been reading, writing a letter to his girls, flipping through magazines. Nobody to bother him. That was what Hawkeye insisted on. But once Hawk gets back, he's still just as quiet as last night, as this morning. He doesn't seem like he can take his eyes off Trap. And after they exchange the normal pleasantries and jokes, Trapper sits up and drawls, "All right, what's next? Gonna make me go kiss Hot Lips's boots or something?" And Hawkeye just slowly shakes his head, gathers himself, and says, "Trap, why don't you have a seat?" while gesturing to the chair, and...okay, sure, he does, so ready for Hawk's angle, whatever it is.

And that's why it's a shock to his entire system when Hawkeye simply climbs in his lap, straddling him, and it's uncomfortable because their thighs are almost burning from how little room there is for both of their legs on this thing, and Hawk's not that steady so Trap has to grab him by the waist to keep him stable. And when Trapper is staring up at him with huge eyes—a deer in the headlights—Hawkeye slips into that familiar terrible craning-forward posture so he can wrap his arms around Trapper and rest his head on the back of the seat right by Trap's curls.

And he's right there. Right there. Trap can't breathe without feeling every inch, every inch, of Hawk pressing into him. And for some reason, his whole fucking body is on fire. So when he whispers, "What're you doing?" his voice is shaky, and Hawk's is rough and deep as he murmurs, "You're just holding me, Trap. Relax." Which would be a hell of a lot easier to do if Trapper wasn't getting hard as nails even though he would swear to a judge in court that he's never thought about Hawk like this. Really. Mostly. And I think early Hawkeye is sometimes just selfish enough that he's been thinking this entire time, wondering how far he might be able to ease Trapper into if he's gentle about it—could he get a kiss? Would Trapper touch him? Would Trap let Hawkeye blow him?—and he has no interest in ruining their friendship, doesn't wanna push if Trap isn't being responsive to anything he wants. But Hawk's gotten away with a hell of a lot more than a friendly makeout as long as he couches it in a joke Hawk who does coax Trapper into a deep, tender makeout—not pushing too hard, not going too fast, just the slow exploration of each other's mouths while they have fistfuls of each other's jackets to keep themselves from touching anything else. And when there's no way for Trapper to hide how hard he is in his fatigues anymore, Hawk pulls back and looks him right in the eye as he touches just the tips of two fingers to Trap's bulge—barely can feel him at all—when he murmurs, "That's gotta hurt, big guy. You wanna take that out for me, give it some air?" Trap almost passes out from every single fucking drop of blood rushing into his dick. And he can't quite yet admit that he wants...that he wants, but he can tell the anxious twitchy nervous thing in the back of his mind that it's the bet. We gotta do it. He said 'for me.' So as he opens up his belt and his fatigues and Hawk shifts enough to let Trap shimmy them down just enough that he pops free, he keeps his eyes on Hawk's face. Sees how Hawkeye stops breathing as he stares at Trap's cock, stunned. And it's not the size, he doesn't think, because there's something else too, something...hungry.

And Hawk tells himself he's not gonna touch, okay, he's just...he's gonna see what Trap'll let him have before he doesn't want it anymore. So he rests a steadying hand high on Trapper's thigh as he leans in to kiss him with that same languid tempo, that same heat, trying to get him to relax and not be spooked by anything that might happen. But Trapper's the one starting to make these little abortive hip bucks, not Hawk. So when Hawkeye feels sufficiently fuzzy-headed, he pulls back and mumbles, "D'you wanna fuck me?" And when Trap's immediate response is, "Huh?" Hawk instantly replies, "D'you wanna fuck something?" And he can tell that Trapper knows that's not what he asked from the way that Trap's watching him with those big doe eyes, but Hawk still pivots to a very slow, "Do you wanna put your cock in something and fuck it however you want 'til you come?" And Trapper still doesn't reply, so Hawk goes for the three-strike policy with one last, "'Cause I've got something you could take, if you wanted to come," just being so careful with his language, framing it all for Trapper, all about his pleasure, nothing weird or queer about it, right, it's just, it's just guys helping each other out sometimes. And when Trapper breathlessly asks, "You got stuff for that?" Hawkeye takes one deep breath of his own, asks himself Am I really doing this? Then nods as he stumbles to his feet, roots through his trunk, finds his tub of lube, then murmurs, "Just gimme a sec. Don't think too hard. Just, just one sec."

Which is how Trapper ends up sitting on the edge of his seat and watching Hawk finger himself open as expediently as possible, watches how Hawk doesn't touch his cock or any other part of himself, that he just works his hole with the same sharp focus that he has in surgery. So Trap doesn't touch himself either. Doesn't make any move to undress. Just stares. And Hawk gets himself all the way to three fingers just to be safe before he looks over. Realizes Trapper hasn't moved a fucking inch. And they stare each other down for five whole seconds as the guilt drips through Hawk before Hawkeye finally clears his throat and says, "Well, uh, good news, no abnormalities in my prostate," and sits up and grabs at his trousers to start pulling them back up. "Sorry you had to see that, but, y'know, peer examinations and all that, making sure I'm doing it right—"

And Trap suddenly shoves Hawk flat on his back. Just murmurs, "I thought I was gonna get to fuck something 'til I came." And Hawkeye's heart starts pounding so hard that he almost blacks out too. And they can't be normal and talk about whatever this is, not yet, not when one wrong word could break the tightrope they're sharing. So Hawk just kicks his pants all the way off and Trap's medical brain makes him grab the lube and slick himself up. And they don't look at each other's face when Trap spreads Hawk's legs until his hamstrings burn and pushes inside him. They don't even make a sound at first. They stare right at where Trap's first inch or two are buried in Hawk's hole. And it's only when Trap pulls back out to the tip, then thrusts back in a little more forcefully that the most punched out, desperate moan slips out of Hawk and drives Trapper absolutely out of his good sense.

Wrote a 1.8k-word vaguely imagined headcanon scene today that I'm just staring at, like "Wow, you literally typed almost 2,000 words for one Trap and Hawk concept that you can't even pretty up to make it into a postable fanfic, you could've put that into any of the fics that are waiting for you to finish them." But unfortunately I love them.

[softlymellow]

flaws -- B.B

pairing: Bucky Barnes x ! insecure reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angst and talk about body image, insecurities and a persons flaws. 

summary: reader compares herself to Natasha as she see’s her and Bucky getting close. She think’s he doesn’t have feelings for her due to her not being perfect and because of her flaws but Bucky reassures her it’s not. 

note: i hope this imagine isn’t taken this wrong way as me trying to romanticise someones insecurities. if i did please dm me or let me know so i can help fix it!! i promise i wasn’t trying to make anyone feel bad or anything and EVERYONE IS SO BEAUTIFUL IN ALL SHAPES AND FORMS and everybody is insecure about something and that’s completely normal but you are loved and you are perfect and you don’t need a man ( or girl! ) to tell you that. hope you guys enjoyyy

You loved being the reason he smiled or laughed.

 Not that he would do it often, his face masked from the trauma he experienced. But when you were the reason he was happy, it gave you almost a sense of pride, but it was taken away from you.

There she was, Natasha Romanoff. 

Her incredible orange hair that sat on her shoulders was eye-catching, her glowing skin and her full scarlet lips complimented her appearance tremendously. 

You couldn't blame her. She was everything you couldn't be and everything you should be. Yet, the lump that rested in the back of your throat was difficult to ignore as you watched Bucky and Natasha interact with each other. A genuine laugh arose from the male, yet you could only wish you were the reason he laughed.

It wasn't as if you weren't friends with him. Hell, it seemed like a lot more to you. Maybe only to you.

You pulled your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly, watching the pair chatter among each other near the dining table as you reside in the comfort of the couch across from them.

Steve sat beside you, busy fixating himself on his new cellphone and playing around with the features.

You drew small circles on your knee to comfort yourself, ignoring the voice that was calling out to you.

"Y/n!" Your head snapped to your right, looking at a semi-concerned Steve. "Almost lost you there," He chuckled while you rubbed your eyes, gaining your full attention.

"How do you change the ringtone?" He innocently asked, poking his phone.

"Just go to settings and search it up." You told him, relocating your gaze to the pair. Steve hummed as he did what you instructed him. You sat quietly before you began to chew on your fingernails, thinking of every possible explanation on why Bucky would choose Natasha over you.

It almost felt as if you were being toyed with, one minute you'd be two peas in a pod, often being teased as one of the only people Bucky began to get close to other than Steve. On the other, he'd be flaunting off to every girl he would see.

"You know you should stop staring before you make it obvious," Steve whispered next to you,  jumping at the sudden break in thought and looking over to a smirking man.

"Steve," You hissed, glaring at him, "before making what obvious?" You innocently asked, attempting to cover up the embarrassment you felt.

Steve shot you a knowing look and you felt your cheeks flare-up, "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Steve responded with a smug expression. You rolled your eyes jokingly before turning your attention to Bucky.

"You should give it a shot, yknow," Steve whispered.

You shook your head 'no', snapping your gaze to Steve, "Trust me," He said in a hushed tone. Looking back to Natasha, you couldn't help the sickening feeling as you watched the pair flirt with each other.

"What would he see in me that he wouldn't in Nat," You mumbled under your breath, not intending for Steve to hear.

"You wouldn't know," Steve cleared his throat, poking at his phone with a pleased look on his face. You tilted your head as you narrowed your eyes at him. Getting up from the couch, you had decided to leave to wallow in your sadness.

You made your way past the pair and you heard the silence that fell among them, their gaze darting holes in your back as you walked away from the room.

Ignoring the distant mumbling behind you, you made your way towards your bedroom. Locking the door behind you, you hadn't bothered to turn the lights on. You dropped on your bed as you felt a swarm of emotions hit you. Once mostly consisting of jealousy.

You took out your phone and headed straight to Instagram. You scrolled through for what could only be interpreted as hours before you paused on a single post that lied on your feed.

It was a picture of Natasha that was posted only a few hours ago. It was taken during Tony's infamous parties last night, one that you had skipped out on due to feeling ill. She sat on a red velvet couch, and she wore a skin-tight black dress that sparkled in the light. She held a drink to her mouth as her red straightened hair fell over her eye. You had noticed that Bucky liked the picture, and you felt the tears brim your eyes. Your grip holding the phone as if your life depended on it suddenly faltered as it fell beside your head, briefly missing your face.

Getting up towards the large mirror that was framed on the closet door, you noticed every imperfection on your figure. Your hands travelled to your shirt as you pulled it off your body, leaving you only in your bra and your negative thoughts.

Your eyes wandered to every flaw, the extra fat and skin on your stomach. The way your body wasn't the perfect hourglass figure. Your fingers traced over your stretch marks that lied on your hips, feeling the slight dent in your skin. Tears began to fall down your face. Your flabby arms and that your breasts wasn't the ideal type.

Sitting on the ground in front of your mirror, you hugged your legs tightly against your chest as you sobbed.

You couldn't fit the standards that were made. The more you looked and the more you scrolled, just end up bringing newfound insecurities. That was a problem you had faced many times during your life and you began to doubt yourself. You would rather be anybody else, feeling unfit in your own body, one that was especially for you. All you saw was what you should be. A happier person, a prettier girl, and a stronger Avenger.

You threw your shirt back on, making your way towards your bed. Lying your head down, you allowed yourself to think about nothing. Empty thoughts. Thoughts that had no meaning and brought you no use.

A knock on the door brought you back to your reality. Getting up, you brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks as you sniffed. Suddenly feeling exposed, you pulled your sleeves down to hide your arms before opening the door.

Your eyes widened as you saw a concerned Bucky waiting outside. His eyebrows furrowed upon seeing your puffy eyes and your red cheeks.

"Can I come in?" He politely asked, his eyes watching every move you made. You nodded, not trusting your voice.

You stood aside, allowing Bucky to slip into your room as you shut the door behind him.

You leaned against the door, your arms crossed against your chest as you waited for him to say something.

He sighed, not knowing where to start, his hands ruffling his hair. "Are you avoiding me?" He obliviously asked. You could almost laugh at how stupid of a question it was.

Your lips could only quiver as you attempted to respond to him. "What?"

"Doll, I don't know if I did something wrong, but you seemed pretty upset back there." He tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

You shook your head as you bit the insides of your mouth, "No, no, it was nothing." You muttered as you sat on your bed, staring at your palms.

"Doll, I know you well enough to know when something is wrong." He shot you a small smile.

"Do you like her?" You instantly regretted saying that, your insecurities creeping in again.

Bucky was taken back by the sudden question, his eyebrows raised in confusion. "Who?"

"Natasha."

"What, no. Where'd you hear that from?" He enquired.

You looked up at Bucky, tears glossing over your vision. "I've seen the way you look at her, Buck."

"No, Y/n. I've never liked her."

"You don't have to lie for me. I mean, what's there not to like. She has the perfect body, face and hair and-" You were interrupted by his sudden grasp on your hands.  

"And you don't have those things?"

"I-I don't." You whispered.

"That's a lie, and you know it." His firm voice alarmed you as if you somehow offended him.

You got up and kept strong eye contact with him. "What are you trying to say, Bucky? Have you seen me?" You scoffed and started to point and poke around your flaws.

"There's nothing wrong with your body, doll." He said in a calmer tone, realising you were insecure about your body image.

"Bucky, you can just stop faking it. Go back to Natasha." You muttered, sniffing as you looked down at your feet.

"I don't love Natasha, Y/n! I love you, doll. I always have." He confessed, slightly panting as he raised his voice.

You stood still, finding it difficult to believe in his words.

"I love you and every part of you." He took your hands in his and planted a small kiss onto your knuckles.

"Then what about-"

"Forget about her, doll. I tried to forget about you through her. Steve told me." He looked up to your eyes, watching your reaction.

You felt the heat creep onto your face as you realised he knows your feelings towards himself.

"Do you really?" You asked, hope in your eyes.

He nodded, still holding your hand and planting small kisses. His kisses travelled up towards your arms as you felt a swarm of butterflies swarm your insides.

"I love your arms," he left a trail of kisses as he went further up.

"Your shoulders," he mumbled against your skin, a tingling sensation was left after every kiss as you felt yourself biting your lip in admiration.

He made his way towards your neck, loving the way you tensed under his touch. "Your neck," he kissed behind your ear as you bit back a moan.

You tilted your head, allowing him to move further, his lips moving alongside your jaw. He finally reached your lips and caught your gaze on his. His lips were mere inches apart from yours, you felt his breath fan over yours.

"Your lips," he whispered, his mouth slowly reaching yours as they gently kissed. Your lips dancing over his, enjoying the moment. His lips were soft against yours and he kissed you as if you were fragile, something to not be tampered with.

He slowly let go of you, his forehead against yours. "I love everything about you, doll. Don't doubt that and don't compare yourself to other women. You're equally if not more beautiful than them." He whispered, pecking you on the cheek.

"You'll realise your worth, Y/n." He kissed you on the forehead.

You felt better after Bucky had come found you that night. Your insecurities didn't go away, instead, you found them as someone else's treasure. And that made you feel better.

-----

a/n: man that last part has me embarrassed. 

[bethansfandoms]

/post/647279129847283712/okay-so-anonymous-on-instagram-asked-me-how-do : your take on why sirius sent snape to the willow hasn't left me since you published it, so good! i know the prank has been written about time and time again, but i'd just love to see your take on the aftermath of the prank - how mad remus is, how and when and why he finds it in him to forgive sirius... your writing is incredible and i would be grateful forever if you wrote this! 🐺⭐🙏

You don't have to have read part one of this for the post to make sense <3

Sirius panicked the moment he landed on the floor of the Potter's living room.

He hadn't been thinking, he had been so scared, so in pain, that in the moment he had grabbed the floo powder and requested to be taken to James', he had temporarily forgotten that James didn't want to see him. He had been so desperate to escape from his house that he hadn't taken the time to just think.

Sirius hadn't spent Christmas at home in a long time. Usually, the marauders would stay at Hogwarts or he would go to James'. For the Christmas of his fifth year, however, he had announced that he was going home. The brief conversation in which he had informed them of this had been the most he'd spoken to them in months.

Sirius knew he wasn't welcome to spend Christmas with the marauders, not after what he'd done, not after he'd told Snape how to get past the whomping willow.

To Sirius, it didn't matter the circumstances, it didn't matter that Snape knew legilimency, that he'd been provoked, none of it mattered because the first thing Remus had told him was that he didn't want to hear excuses, and so Sirius had decided not to go against his wishes, not then and not ever again.

He'd kept his distance, it had been killing him, but he'd stayed away. The only time the four of them were together was late at night when Sirius, his head hung, would enter the dormitory, quickly walk over to his bed, and draw the curtains.

James had shouted at him more than Remus had and Sirius stood there and took it, he'd never seen James so angry, not at anybody, and so, even in the delirious state he was in, he knew he'd messed up coming to his house.

"Sirius?" Sirius took a moment before his eyes were able to focus on the doorway. James was stood in his pyjamas, only for a brief moment, before he was running to Sirius' side. "Mum! Dad! Fuck, Sirius, what happened?"

"Parents. I’m sorry," Sirius croaked.

He only caught a brief glimpse of James' parents entering the room before consciousness escaped him.

He awoke still on the floor, James and Euphemia knelt at his side. "Fleamont has locked the floo network," Euphemia said softly, "he's writing to Dumbledore now, you're safe."

James squeezed his arm, "You're staying with us. You're not going back to your parents, Padfoot." Sirius almost cried at the nickname, he'd missed it so much.

He was, however, confused. Had James forgotten to be angry at him? He didn't get much time to dwell on it, he felt his eyes closing and blackness claimed him again.

This time, he awoke in a bed, the one in the room he usually stayed him. James was there still, fiddling with his glasses. "Feel like passing out again?" he asked, smiling weakly.

Sirius tried to smile in return, "No, I think I'm alright for now.”

James nodded, "Look, Sirius, mum said... she said it looked like someone had performed the—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he whispered. James nodded in response and dropped the subject. "I'm sorry I came here," Sirius said, voice breaking, "I didn't know where else to go."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because... because of what happened in September, because I told Snape about the whomping willow. You're angry at me."

James ran his hands through his hair and sighed, "I know I said I wouldn't forgive you until Remus did, and I meant it. But I— Sirius, I told you going home was a good idea. If I'd just let you come here, been the bigger fucking person..."

"I would have gone home anyway, no matter what you said."

"Yeah," James scoffed, "you're a stubborn git like that. Look, I was about to write to Peter and Remus so they—"

"No!" Sirius had tried to sit up too suddenly and his back gave a painful twinge, "no, you can't tell Remus. He'll feel bad and forgive me and I can't have him do that until he's ready. You can't write to him."

"Alright," James said, "try and get some sleep then, okay mate?"

Sirius nodded, "Promise not to write to Remus?"

"Promise."

Sirius slowly blinked awake to daylight streaming through the curtains. He tentatively sat up, stretching as much as the pain in his bones allowed him to. Then, he almost jumped half to death.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." Remus was smiling at him from his chair in the corner, and Sirius had missed his smile so much.

"What are you doing here? It was the full moon last night!"

"Yeah, yeah, it was," Remus sounded almost surprised that Sirius had remembered, like he would ever forget. "James wrote. I got the letter early this morning, used the floo network to get straight here. I probably look like shit.”

"I told him not to write," Sirius mumbled.

"I know, he told me. Sirius, what you did, it was... but I never wanted you to think I was so irreversibly angry that I wouldn't be here for you after something like this."

Sirius nodded sadly, biting his lip in an attempt to stop any tears. "Remus, I know you hate me for what I did, but I... I hate myself for it more than you ever could."

Remus sighed, sadly, "I don't hate you, Sirius. I think maybe I want to, but I don’t, I never could.”

"Snape knows legilimency," Sirius blurted. "I know you didn't want excuses, this isn't one, I just... I tried to block him, my mother had used it on me before, I was blocking him but he kept trying to use me to confirm you were a werewolf and I got so angry and I told him. I know it doesn't justify—"

He stopped speaking as Remus got up and walked across the room, sitting in bed next to him. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"Doesn't change anything. I still told him."

Remus kicked off his shoes and pulled back the duvet, lying down and sighing. Sirius slowly mirrored his position. "I forgive you, you know."

Sirius thought he might cry. "You don't have to, just because my parents... it doesn't mean you have to feel bad for me or whatever."

"I was always going to forgive you, Sirius. I hated to admit it to myself because I was so fucking angry at you, but I knew I was always going to forgive you. So why not now?"

Sirius shuffled closer and hugged him, then. They would hug s like this sometimes after one of them had had a nightmare. Sirius had never been big fan of physical affection, not in the same way James was, but he hugged Remus tight, only relaxing when he felt Remus hug him back.

James pushed the door open slowly, he couldn't hear Remus and Sirius talking, he’d left them alone for a good hour. Briefly, he wondered if maybe they'd killed one another and that was why there was complete silence from within the room.

Instead of any casualties, he found Sirius and Remus asleep, the duvet over them but not enough to hide the way their limbs were tangled together.

He sighed to himself. He'd found them this way before, some mornings in the dormitory, the two of them sleeping soundly in bed together for reasons he didn't quite know.

"Knew I was right to send Remus an owl," he muttered to himself, closing the door and letting them sleep.

[hargrove-mayfields]

The first summer after the incident at Starcourt, things have finally had enough time to slowly ease back into normalcy.

The day after school lets out, the kids talk Steve into letting them come swim in his pool. It’s only for a couple of hours, and honestly, it does them all some good, the kids getting to pretend things are okay for a while, and Steve getting to soothe that worry that crept in every time he didn’t have an eye on all of them, so despite the guilt they all certainly felt for having fun, they let themselves enjoy it, for a little while at least.

The gimmick of what made summer fun ran out pretty quickly for them though, so once they’d all gotten sunburnt shoulders and had tangles in their hair and wrinkles on their fingers from the chlorinated water, they decided it was time to go home. They weren’t up for the arcade or ice cream after the pool like they used to be either, but they had had just under a year now to decide they were okay with that.

So Steve loads them all up into his new Mercedes-Benz, the replacement for the BMW that became necessary post battle when they discovered his car had been crushed at some point during that night by the Mind Flayer, and took them all home.

Max’s house was the last on his route no matter which way he went, the only member of the party who lived on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town now that the Byers’ had moved, so it’s just the two of them in the car. As they pull up outside though, she hesitates to get out, instead nervously picking at the stitches in the seat, mulling over something in her head.

They aren’t really close, no bond between them beyond babysitter and grumpy teenager not happy to have one, but Steve feels an obligation towards all of these kids, so he shifts in the seat so he’s facing her, and asks her in a way he hoped sounds approachable, “What’s up, Max?”

Max takes another second and a deep breath before speaking, wringing her hands nervously, “Billy’s birthday is in a few days and I don’t think anybody knows that, but I want to do something for him.”

Steve nods, doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do at first, “Have you talked to your mom about this?”

He asks because word traveled fast in a small town like Hawkins. Everyone and their mother knew that Neil Hargrove had split before they’d even stabilized his son in the hospital, and his wife had stayed with their children, taking full responsibility for Billy and Max. If anyone should be having a party for Billy, it should be Susan.

“Yeah and she liked the idea, but she’s been really busy with work and stuff, double now with Billy’s medical bills, and I know a lot of the other parents are too and some of them I just don’t know well enough to ask, and I don’t know who else to turn to because normally I’d take this stuff to Billy and I can’t do it by myself.” Max rambles all in one breath, has clearly been thinking about this for a long time.

Steve obviously wants to encourage that, so he asks, “What did you wanna do for him?”

“I just wanted to have a party for him at the hospital, but I know that’s kinda dumb since nobody goes to see him anyways.” Max mumbles, wrapping her fingers around the door handle like she’s going to get out, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. What day is it, his birthday?”

“The sixth. I know that’s kinda short notice but-“ Max starts again, but Steve interrupts, a small smile on his face as if to prove he’s genuine, “No, it’s fine. We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to let Billy be alone on his birthday.”

It doesn’t seem to have the effect Steve wanted though, because Max scoffs and pushes the car door open, snapping before she gets out, “You do every other day.”

Even though Max had been so short with him at first, after that, she and Steve work on a plan at the end of every day when he was driving her back home, Max slowly evolving from tense about even bringing it up to actually excited for this thing they were working on together for her brother.

Steve doesn’t really have the time or the know-how for home made anything, but he buys everything you typically would find at an under twenty one birthday party, balloons and streamers, a chocolate cake, per Max’s request, and a tub of Superman ice cream, also a suggestion from Max.

He doesn’t buy Billy a present, he figures he doesn’t have use for much for anything material in the hospital, and although he’s willing to help, he feels he still doesn’t really know Billy like that anymore.

Or maybe he does, he just doesn’t know if the friendship they had been reluctantly developing would withstand the strain the accident at Starcourt had put on it, and didn’t feel it was very appropriate just to show up with an expensive knick knack that would just rub his wealth in Billy’s face.

Instead, he gets him a card, because who doesn’t want a birthday card, and leaves a hundred dollars and a heartfelt note in it. The money is because he has it and Billy needs it more than he does, and a hundred dollars was standard for milestone birthdays, in his family at least, and since Billy was lucky to see his nineteenth come around, he figures this counted.

So on the sixth of June, they’re ready to celebrate Billy.

Steve drives the kids all to the hospital that day, surprised that even without El around right now to convince them to, they were all willing to come. He guesses they’d all seen how torn up Max was when Billy was admitted to the hospital, and now that eleven months later he still hadn’t got out, it was bound to be hard on her.

It wasn’t a surprise anymore, Max had let it slip to Billy a few days beforehand in her excitement, so they just went straight up to his room, each kid and Steve carrying something, decorations or food or presents.

At first, Billy doesn’t really seem to thrilled to see them, but Steve supposed he wouldn’t be either, it couldn’t be any fun aging in the hospital, especially surrounded by nobody but your little sisters friends.

But they still set it all up for him, tying balloons to his bed and hanging streamers above the door. Max sits with him and keeps him entertained with stories, but what makes his mood significantly improve is when a nurse interrupted them to give him another dose of his pain meds.

Once they’re all set up, it’s Lucas who points out, “We forgot the candles for the cake.”

And it’s Max who, without really thinking about it, reminds him, “We probably have some with all the decorations and stuff we bought.”

It’s Dustin who looks and finds a pack of candles that someone indeed had brought, and calls out, “Found some.”

But it’s Steve who is seemingly the only one able to remember that the birthday boy was still on oxygen after a lung transplant and didn’t think he needed to be blowing out any candles, reminding Dustin very pointedly, “Actually, Dustin, I don’t think we need any candles.

Of course he argues, because kids do, “C'mon Steve, it's a birthday cake. All birthday cakes have candles.”

“Yeah, but I said I don’t think this one needs any.” Steve says, through his teeth this time, nodding subtly towards Billy, and Dustin's eyes widen a little, and the candles get put back without another word about it.

Instead, Steve gives Billy the zippo from his pocket, flipping it open for him so a tiny flame dances in front of his face, “Make a wish, Hargrove.”

Billy takes the lighter, a little apprehensively, but he stays quiet, looking up at Steve as he presumably makes his wish to himself, then clicks it shut, extinguishing the flame.

Ever impatient, the kids decide that’s their cue to cut into the cake without really asking anybody, but Steve doesn’t stop them, because as Billy reminds Max when she sits down on his bedside with a piece, “I can’t really eat that right now, kiddo, but thank you.”

She blows him off, teasingly uncaring in that sibling way, “Oh, I know, that’s why I picked chocolate cake, ‘cause I know you don’t like it. I just wanted you to have one, so it felt like a real birthday.”

Billy smiles wide, holds his arms out the best he can anymore for a hug, “Aww, come ‘ere, shitbird.”

Max spends the rest of their little impromptu party at his bedside, talking to her friends but sitting with her brother, the both of them chasing that sense of normalcy that everyone else had been able to move on and achieve, but they had no chance at grasping so long as they were apart.

That is at least, until to keep himself busy while the kids argue about something, Billy reads his card from Steve, that long written out note that detailed all his feelings and regrets and thoughts about Billy that he had been grappling with since Billy was hospitalized, sorrys and thank yous and happy birthday, everything crammed into that card but the part about how Steve had been falling in love with Billy since they met in ‘84.

It makes Steve nervous, twitchy and vulnerable with Billy reads it, until he gently closes the card and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and a little teary.

The first thing he says is an unrelated question, ruffling his little sisters hair and asking her, “Maxi, can you go down to the vending machine at the end of the hall and grab me some stuff? I’m running out of candy to hide in the bedside drawer.”

Max nods and slides down from his bed, and Billy adds, “Take all your friends too. See if they want anything.”

He waits until all the kids are gone, their voices echoing distantly down the long hallway, to ask Steve, “D’you do all this for me, Harrington?”

Steve shrugs, not sure if he’s more humble or nervous about why Billy wanted to talk to him alone, “It was Max’s idea.”

“But you still organized it, right?”

“I guess. I don’t want a thank you or anything though.” Steve insists, but Billy smiles, a bright one like Steve hardly ever saw anymore, and insists right back “Too bad, you’re getting one. Thank you.”

Steve just shrugs again, “It’s your birthday, Hargrove. I wasn’t going to let you be forgotten.”

“I would’ve been okay, Steve. Birthdays were just… never really a thing in my family anyways.”

Steve can tell they were going to go back and forth all day, arguing over whether or not he should be celebrated, and if he needed someone by his side, if he doesnt change the subject, so he asks him, “What’d you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.” Billy hums, thoughtful, and he says, sounding like his sister, “And it’s sort of dumb anyways.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s not dumb. If it’s something you want, it can’t be.”

Billy looks up at him, a little smile on his face, and explains, “I don’t know it’s just, I’m going to be sick for the rest of my life, I’m stuck in the hospital for another month at least and my dad disowned me, but, my wish still wasn’t for any of that to change.”

“What was it then?”

Billy takes a deep breath, a noticeable flush to his face, “I wished that I would have the guts to finally do this.”

For a second Steve wonders what he’s talking about, worries briefly that he was going to use the distraction and the relaxed attention from the nurses on his birthday to make grand escape from the hospital or something, until Billy leans up and kisses him.

It’s chaste and it’s sweet, everything that he’d expect from anybody that wasn’t Billy Hargrove, and everything that Steve could ever have wanted. He sits down on the bed beside Billy to make the angle easier on the both of them, not breaking the kiss for even a second, bringing his hand up to cup Billy's cheek, and deepening the kiss.

They’re interrupted by the squeaking of tennis shoes on the waxy hospital floors in the hallway, the kids coming back already, so Steve pulls away, just as flushed as Billy was now and keeping one of his hands resting on top of Billy’s, “Happy birthday, Billy.”

[lifesabe-ch]

brat - spencer r.

summary: while out with the time, a comment from the group gets spencer thinking… and god, if he thought like this every time, you’d be in luck. Because your night just got a hell of a lot better.

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: smut!!! oral, male and female receiving, penetrative sex

a/n: this is the second time posting this. A couple people had some mean things to say the first time so… let’s try this again. when a word is in caps and bolded, it’s a scene change (Tumblr doesn’t have cuts anymore so kindly get off my dick about this) 

“So let me get this straight…”

The others laughed as Morgan fumbled through his confusion, his gaze never once wavering from yours, “You don’t want to make sweet sweet love to me?”

His fake offense was obvious, but you’d have to praise him for his theatratics. Man sure knew how to put on a show.

“I’m sorry, you’re just not my type,” you sigh, playfully laying your hand over his.

“You can’t have two dominant people in one relationship, it’d never work,” Emily quips, glancing between the two of you with a smile.

“Truth. She needs someone more like… Reid.”

At this, the genius’ head perks up, taking note of the way the tips of your ears flushed.

“What?”

“I think you’d be the perfect sub for Y/N.”

You throw a balled up napkin at Garcia, glaring as she laughs off your attack.

“Penelope! Leave him alone.”

And she would’ve, you’re sure. But he’s no longer interested in being left alone.

“No, come on, now I want to know. What makes you say that?”

“Well, Y/N is obviously a dominant person. You’ve met her. And you’re… not. I just think it'd work. In the bedroom, you know?”

The others share a laugh as you groan, shaking your head, “I’m pretty sure he knows, no need to clarify.”

“I don’t know, I feel like she’s got a lot more underneath the surface.”

Your eyes snap over to Spencer, taking him. He’s staring at you now, eyes burning into you with a glint of… mischief? He was watching you, waiting for your reaction.

“Well, maybe my depth is surface level! Just a, a pond.”

“A pond, huh?”

“Or a puddle…”

“A puddle…”

“Stop repeating me!”

“Why should I?”

Morgan glances between the two of you, grinning, “I don’t know, Pen. Maybe he’s a brat.”

“I am not a brat!”

“That’s exactly something a brat would say.”

Spencer huffs and glances over at you, seemingly as ready to drop the conversation as you were.

“Whatever,” you shrug, “does anybody know if that restaurant near here burned down, or if it was just fake news?”

The team eagerly took to your distraction, arguing their own opinions on the matter and what they had heard, before the topic naturally shifted to something else.

All throughout the night, you noted the way Spencer was acting differently. Glancing at you more often. Touching you longer, and even when unnecessary. He was joking, he had to be.

Later on, as you excuse yourself from the group, you make your way over to the bar, quickly ordering another drink before glancing back over at your friends.

More specifically, Spencer.

You had liked him for a while, and by now you were certain that he knew about it. There was no way he couldn’t, with how much everyone brought it up. He never talked about it, though. Instead, he just ignored the entire thing. Which was answer enough for you.

“Well, here I am. What’re your other two wishes?”

Rolling your eyes, you glance over to the man who now stood besides you, hand instinctively covering the drink the bartender had brought over.

“Is that the best line you’ve got?”

“Do you like raisins?”

“What? I… yeah.”

“How do you feel about a date?”

You stare at him for a moment, thoroughly confused, “I… I guess? Why’re you asking me about—”

You cut yourself with off with a laugh, realization flooding through you. The man looks quite pleased as he watches you, an easy smile on his lips.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way. I’m Pete.”

You took a moment to look him over. His eyes were dark, his hair cut short. He had a sturdy build, but it wasn't overly obnoxious. His accent was thick with certain words. He was probably from Jersey. Or New York. Somewhere they couldn’t quite pronounce the “r”s. New England, maybe?

Admittedly, he was hot.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Pete. Where are you from?”

The two of you chat for quite a few more minutes, conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You were having such a good time, it almost didn’t seem real. You had even forgotten about Spencer. That was, until he made his way over to you.

By then, you and Pete had gravitated closer together, your hand on his arm as he spoke, the other holding up your chin.

“Hey, Y/N. Think it’s time we head home.”

You barely glance over at him, “I’ll be fine, you go ahead.”

“No, I’m not leaving you, you’re drunk.”

“I don't feel that drunk, Spencer. I haven’t even had a drink yet.”

“Ah, boyfriend.”

Your “no” comes at the same time as his “yes”, the other man’s sigh being ignored by you both.

“So now we’re dating?”

Raising his hands in surrender, you're suddenly aware that Pete has started to back away, “Seems complicated. I’ll let you two work this out. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You don’t have time to respond to him, his retreating frame quickly dipping into the crowd of people in line. Turning back to face Spencer, you glare at him.

“I was about to get laid. Fuck you.”

“Oh you’d love to wouldn’t you.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me. You wanna fuck? I’m right here.” He moves closer to you and it’s unnatural to see Spencer, of all people, act like this.

“What is wrong with you?” You mutter, trying to push past him. He stands in front of you.

“I’m gonna make you regret having said that.”

“What?”

He takes your hand and pulls you with him back over to the table, quickly pulling his jacket off the chair and flashing the others a nonchalant smile.

“We’re going to head out, Y/N isn’t feeling too great, so I thought I’d take her home.”

His lie was so obvious, but the others only nodded, your confused expression apparently enough to make them believe him.

“Of course, hun. Get home safe, okay?”

“And take care of her, Spence.”

With a loose grip around your waist as he wound you through the crowd, the man leaned closer to your ear, a devilish smirk on his lips as he led you outside, “Oh, I will.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you retort, immediately engulfed by the feeling as his lips on yours before he turned to hail a cab.

“Trust me, you’re going to be feeling it too.”

THE cab ride from the bar to his place was short, both of your hands finding every inch of exposed skin as discreetly as possible, feverish kisses being shared at every chance granted. As soon as the two of you had made it inside, he was pushing you into the bedroom, slipping the tie from around his neck, eyes burning into yours.

The top buttons of his shirt were quickly undone, your hands joining him at the bottom so the two of you could meet somewhere in the middle.

After his shirt was pulled off, you reached for his pants, your fingers eagerly working on the belt buckle there.  But just as soon as you had it undone, he had your hands pulled away, his tie coming up to tie them together.

“Get on the bed.”

His voice was even deeper than it usually was, his lips quickly finding their way to your neck after fastening the tie to the headboard.

He made quick work with his hands, roaming them lower on your waist, pace tantalizingly slow.

His fingers found their way to your underwear, eyes locked on yours as he ran them over the soaked fabric.

“All this for me?”

You nodded quickly, glancing between him and his hand.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. For you,” you breathed, moaning as his hand slipped past the fabric, his finger dipping into your wet core.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, thumb moving to rub against your clit.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips in response, a silent cry for more friction against him.

“Uh uh,” he tsked, free hand moving to hold down your thighs, “No moving.”

You don’t respond, instead stilling the movement of your body against him. He rewards you by slipping another finger inside you, his pace quickening.

You can barely think as he continues his motions, keeping your entire focus on staying still as he requested.

The room itself is filled with the sound of your moans and whines, your release inching closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever.”

His words are soft, but you hear them.

With the added stimulation of his hands against your breast, you reach your high, his name the only coherent thing spilling from your lips as you do so.  Your only focus was on the way your body clenched around his fingers, back arching as he continued his assault on your senses throughout.

As your back finally landed back onto the bed, he pulled himself from you, a whine leaving your mouth as you watched him inspect his fingers, your juices dripping over them.

“Good girl,” he cooed, bringing his hand up to your mouth and watching as you sucked yourself off of his fingers.

His fingers pressed down against your tongue, reveling in the whimper that sounded.

“You look so pretty like this,” Spencer murmured, eyes flicking from your gaze down to your bare body, “All laid out, just for me.”

You nodded eagerly, speaking as he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“Anything for you, sir.”

The laugh that spilled from his lips was intoxicating, the easy grin he wore enough to make your legs shake again.

“And the team had you pegged as the dominant one. Some profilers.”

A soft laugh left your lips, but before you could respond, Spencer’s were pressed to yours, tongue running against your bottom lip, awaiting entrance permission.

When he finally pulls away, he stands, pulling off the rest of his clothing, completely aware of your gaze running over his frame, willing yourself to commit this to memory.

He helps you sit up on the bed, positioning himself above you, his length just above your mouth.

You lean forward instinctively, abruptly reminded of the tie holding you back against the bed.

With a huff, you glance up at the amused man.

“Please,” you whine, bucking forward to take him again, but this time his movements allow you to, pushing closer to you and letting your mouth reach his length.

You swirl your tongue against him before closing your lips around his tip. Without the use of your hands, you were forced to let him buck into you at his own speed, only moving your head as far as he allowed you.

Instead, you varied your pressure against him, pressing your tongue hard and then soft again, using the sounds of his moans to guide your actions.

After a few moments of doing this, you could feel him twitching against your tongue. But he didn’t let you finish him off, instead pulling off of you with a moan, watching as you lick your own lips with a grin.

“Please,” you mutter, watching as he adjusted his position, aligning himself with your entrance, “Fuck me, Spencer. Please.”

Shifting to untie your wrists, he moved into you, inch by inch. The pace was painstakingly slow, but now that your hands were free, you wasted no time in moving them against him.

You scratched your nails down his back as he fully entered you, pulling out of you just as fast, but this time quickly slamming back in.

His first few thrusts were experimental, but soon enough he set his rhythm, pushing into you relentlessly.

As your whines grew, he began grinding your bodies further together, your hips bucking up against him.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling you up and closer to him as his lips found their way to your neck, sucking against your hot skin.

“I’m going to leave you all marked up,” he muttered, free hand reaching between you to rub circles against your clit.

“I’m going to leave you so spent that you won’t even be able to think about anybody else. You won’t even be able to look at anybody else, without thinking of me.”

You already weren’t able to do that, you think to yourself. Much less after this.

As he pulled out of you fully, he slammed back in, your scream of his name enough to spur him forward.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

He was now plunging into you faster, the force enough to push the headboard into the wall with each shove of his hips against you.

It was hard to breathe, to move, to feel anything besides his cock fully burying itself inside you.

As you came down from your second high, you called his name, the words barely leaving your mouth as more than a whisper. But he heard you, your own name leaving his lips soon after as he came inside you.

Finally finishing he collapses against you, his arms the only thing keeping him from crushing you completely, his lips pressing light kisses to your face.

As you feel his hot breath and sweaty body against yours, you’re hyper aware of your situation. The reality of what you had just done has hit you. You had slept with your coworker. The person you were partnered with on most cases.

Closing your eyes, you realized how monumentally you may have screwed things up. While you had feelings for Spencer, you didn’t know if he felt the same. And now, you feared, you wouldn’t ever. You would just forget about this hookup, move on, and never speak to each other again. And it scared you.

As he recaptured your lips with his, the kiss reassured all of the thoughts swirling around your head. It was different from the others, softer and filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever too.”

“I’m glad we finally did,” he responds, pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

Those were the last words he muttered to you before pulling out, getting up to grab a damp towel from the bathroom.

After cleaning the two of you up, he slid back in besides you.

“Thank God for Pete,” You joke.

“Say that again, I dare you,” he murmurs, face burrowing into the crook of your neck, breath hot.

“Thank. God. For. Pete.”

“Look who’s the brat now.”

The two of you share a laugh this time, bodies relaxed as you cuddle close together. Sleep takes hold of you both not long after, but you stay like that. Scared, even in slumber, that if you move your bubble would burst.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Home is Us

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez

Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."

A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.

AO3

The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.

Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”

He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”

“T.K.!”

His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”

“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”

“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”

There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”

T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.

Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small. 

They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.

“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”

“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said. 

“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.

He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”

She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”

It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.

Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.

“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.

Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”

He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”

The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.

“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked. 

“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.

And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.

“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”

“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.

“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“

“We had no way of knowing.”

Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”

T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”

“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”

T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”

Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”

Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.

Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.

Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.

“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”

“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”

“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.

“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.

Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.

A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”

“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.

“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.

“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”

“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”

Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”

“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked. 

“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend. 

“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”

“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”

“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.

“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.” 

The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them. 

Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.

The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.

“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room. 

“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall. 

“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”

Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.

He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.

T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.

Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.

“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him. 

The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.

T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.

Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet. 

When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.

Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”

His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”

T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”

Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”

“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.

Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”

“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”

Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”

Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”

Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”

“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.

His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”

“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”

Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.

Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“

“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.

Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.

“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly. 

They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”

“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.

It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips. 

Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”

Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.

T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”

T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them. 

Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.

“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.

Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.

Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers. 

Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials. 

“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs.  “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”

T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”

“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.

“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”

“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”

“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.

“Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.

“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”

“Good,” T.K. said.

The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”

He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.

“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”

“What?”

“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”

“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”

“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”

T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”

“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”

T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.

“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”

“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.

T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”

“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”

“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously. 

Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”

“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”

“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.

“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.

“Is this you finally freaking out?”

“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”

“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”

“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”

“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.

T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead" sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Erased From the Stars: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4254

Series Warnings: Toxic Relationships, Cheating, Physical Abuse, Underage Drinking, Drug Use (marijuana), Motor Vehicle Accident, Cursing

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Sex, Cocky Bucky, Nervous Bucky, Bucky Bucky

A/N: I actually have ideas for this story, so I’m cranking it out! I definitely wasn’t expecting to post today, but here we are! This chapter has a lot of dialogue and some of Reader’s thoughts, but not much action, yet. We’re kind of still getting in the roll of things, it still being the first week of college and all that. We do get to meet Bucky, though! Next chapter we’ll meet mostly everyone else, and there will be more things happening other than classes and work. I kinda feel like I’m rushing these first few chapters, so I’m sorry about that, but it’s mostly introductions and setting up the story and I’m the type of person who likes writing the climax and only the climax. So this is steady growth for me.

I do want to point out the series warnings, just in case! I don’t want anyone feeling uncomfortable or being triggered while reading this so please take those seriously as it will happen later on in the story! Thank you!

Once again, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Erased From the Stars Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts’ Masterlist

You woke up in a much better mood on Tuesday, having gotten more sleep than the previous night, especially considering how tired you were when you got home past midnight from working at Shield. You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You took your time getting ready and eating breakfast, saying bye to Christine and the kids, leaving first that time since your Public Speaking class started before Kayla’s preschool did.

Which you were late to.

Of course as soon as you let your guard down, thinking you’d be fine since your first day was fine, you weren’t fine. 

Fortunately, you were only a few minutes late and didn’t miss anything, since today would be another day of going over rules and course requirements for the two new classes you had.

Public Speaking was the worst. You’re older - and only - sister, Kimberly, convinced you to take the class after saying it was one of her favorites. Of course, you forgot that you and Kim were very different people. For starting at 9:05, it was too early of a class, especially when the whole point was, you know, public speaking. You hadn’t done anything yet, but one glance at the plans your professor had for the semester and you were dreading it already.

Your next class was a US History lecture, which started fifteen minutes after Public Speaking. You were again late because you severely underestimated how far the buildings were and your professor let you out a bit later than you anticipated.

You practically threw all your stuff into your bag the moment he dismissed you and sprinted out.

Arriving, you tried slipping in as silently as possible, but the door slammed shut, rather loudly, making you cringe. You felt yourself heat up as several pairs of eyes snapped towards you, but luckily the professor, Coulson you remembered, was just gathering papers and hadn’t started yet. Ignoring your peers - none of whom you knew and you weren’t sure if that made it worse or not - you shuffled over to the nearest empty seat a few rows down and to the right. You were surprised and extremely grateful to find it was an aisle seat.

Pulling out your laptop, you huffed when it wouldn’t turn on. You hadn’t used it in your previous class, meaning it was dead before, but you could’ve sworn you plugged it in last night. Whatever. You were fine with pen and paper.

“Aw shit.” You resisted the urge to smack your head on the table as you dug through your bag. Seriously?! You forgot to pack a pen?! That couldn’t have been your only pen, right?!

This is why you were anxious. Next morning, you swore you’d get up early and triple check to make sure you had everything.

You quietly threw your bag to the ground and slumped in your seat, your arms crossed. That meant you couldn’t even doodle! You had to sit there for over an  hour and listen to this guy talk about another syllabus. Joy.

Suddenly, something hit you in the back of your head. You rubbed where it hit and looked down at your feet, eyebrows knitting together at the scrunched up ball of paper sitting there. “Psst.” Another hit to the head made you whip around, glaring at the culprit.

“What?” You hissed before faltering. Damn. Now that was one hell of a specimen.

Steel blue eyes crinkled at the corner as pink lips pulled up into an entertained grin, pearly whites on display. Sharp jawline covered with light scruff. Fluffy chestnut hair styled with the perfect amount of gel fell a little past his ears, with a single pesky strand falling in his eyes. The white shirt he was wearing was loose with a low collar, a leather jacket thrown over it. You could see the combat boots from underneath the table. He was a pretty boy, yeah, but you hung out with (*cough cough* dated) enough guys dressed like him in high school to know his game.

“Need a pen?” He offered in a whisper, holding up the said object.

“Uhm…yes?”

He smirked, leaning forwards in his chair, closer to you. “I’ll let you have it on one condition.” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Just a name, babygirl. Yours, specifically.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing around the room to see if you were disturbing anybody. Not seeing anyone paying attention to you two, you turned back to him. “Y/N.”

“Bucky.” He introduced himself, reaching over to shake your hand. You took it, a bit hesitant, blinking when you felt something fall into your palm once he pulled back. The pen.

“I, uh, thanks.”

He winked at you, leaning back in his chair, hands linked behind his head. “No problem, doll.”

You turned back to the lecture, holding in your scoff at his pet name, hating the fact that it nearly made you smile. He was definitely a fuckboy and you told yourself before college that you wouldn’t play around with them anymore.

So you tuned him out of your mind for the rest of the lecture and, thank God, you had to rush out of class once it ended because you had to work in half an hour, not even letting the blue eyed pretty boy say a word in your direction.

You worked for the rest of the day, Russo’s for lunch, a few hours break to look over school stuff and have dinner with your family, before Shield from 9 to 1. It was fine. Long, but nothing you weren’t used to already. You really enjoyed both your jobs and you got lucky with your bosses. 

Joe and Anthony were brothers who took over Russo’s for their parents. The pizzeria had been in their family for generations, and they gladly took on the tradition. They had kids of their own and dealt with their school, so they were very understanding - almost parental - to you.

Phillips had started Shield after retiring from the Army, wanting to settle down with a place to drink, smoke, and play poker with his buddies. He was stern, but that was to be expected. He always told you, “you can take the man out of the Army, but you can’t take the Army out of the man.” Despite him being strict, though, he was reasonable, and had taken a liken to you since the moment you stepped foot in the bar.

And not only did you like your jobs, the money wasn’t too bad either.

But, despite that, you were still human, and having two back-to-back college classes and then working two jobs for over eight hours was draining.

You made sure everything was ready for the next day before you left for Shield, that way you could just get home, change, and sleep. Tuesday might’ve been a rough starting day, but you’d learn for Thursday, and Wednesday’s morning was definitely better.

Peter even texted you his coffee order, telling you he’d probably be late. You chuckled to yourself when you got the text at breakfast. You totally called it.

In his defense, he really was running late, and you could tell just by looking at him. One shoe untied, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed, sweater haphazardly thrown on like it was an afterthought, which it probably was.

“You,” he puffed, sinking into his chair and taking the coffee cup you held out. “Are my savior and I’ll love you until the end of time.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “And you, my friend, are so much more chaotic than I thought. What’d you do? Stay up until three last night?”

He shrugged, shooting you an innocent smile while his cheeks turned red. “I got caught up binge watching Clone Wars.”

“Of course you did. Here’s the notes you missed so far.”

He gave you an adoring smile. “Did I tell you I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sap. Hurry and copy them down so I don’t miss anything.”

********************

It was when you were checking your things Wednesday night when you realized you had an extra pen. It took you a moment to remember the blue eyed pretty boy from Coulson’s History lecture, but when you did you groaned.

Your dating record in high school was pretty bad. Not that you would really call it dating. But Whitney was right when she said it was you wanting attention. It wasn’t easy being the middle of seven. But you dealt with it and now that you were across the country from your family - who you loved but Jesus Christ did you need a break - you didn’t need to act out to seek attention. 

You were an adult. Meaning you wouldn’t goof off with guys like that anymore. Meaning you didn’t even want to talk to guys like that anymore.

Meaning you were severely regretting taking his stupid pen.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice if you didn’t give it back. Yeah. Maybe you could just ignore him and he won’t even remember that he let you borrow it.

Those were your hopes as you walked into your US History lecture, taking the seat you had on Tuesday.

“On time today? Glad to see we’re learning.” And there go your hopes, crashing straight into the floor, shattering into millions of tiny pieces. Going for ‘not interested’, you quirked an eyebrow, twisting your head as a bag landed on the table next to your open laptop, a body falling into the seat beside you. The leather jacket was replaced with a denim one, his black button up tighter around his chest than Tuesday’s white t-shirt. “And you charged your computer! Very nice, doll.”

You shrugged, going back to your doodling. “Time management’s always been a bit of an issue for me.”

“Ah. Gotchu, gotchu. I’ve got a pal like that too. A couple of them, actually.” He chuckled. “Is that why you high-tailed outta here Tuesday?”

“I’ve got work right after this class.” You answered shortly.

He leaned his elbow on the table, his legs spread as he turned fully to, a slight smirk on his face. “I haven’t seen you ‘round campus before. You new here? A freshman? You don’t look like it.”

You hummed. “Maybe. It’s a big campus.”

“Which you don’t live on.” 

Frowning at the question that he said more like a statement, you moved your head back to him. “I don’t?”

He shook his head, setting his cheek in his palm. “Nope. I know everyone who lives on campus.”

A bit distracted due to Professor Coulson just walking in and announcing the lesson for the day, you hummed and shut your notebook and set up a page on your laptop for notes. “Everyone, huh?”

He nodded with a click of his tongue. “I get around.”

There it was. “Oh? A party animal?”

“I wouldn’t say that. My friends and I are just outgoing. We enjoy life.”

“Enjoy life or enjoy getting into girl’s pants?”

He hissed, shaking his hand like he burned it. “Ouch, doll. That stung. For your information, quite a few people in my group are goin’ steady. And we’re of mixed genders and sexualities. It’s not always girls’ pants.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to him while still trying to pay attention. “For you or your group.”

“Does it matter?” He shrugged. “Would it bother you if I did fuck guys? ‘Cause I have experimented and it’s not half bad.”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’, shaking your head. “You do you, pal. Or…do whoever you want to. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to-”

He nodded. “Right, right. Yeah. Sorry. Just…listen. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, you know. Yeah, sure, I’ve seen a few beds around campus, but I’ve got female friends who I don’t sleep with. What if I just wanna be friends with you, huh doll?”

“Just friends?”

“Yup.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay. How many of these so-called female friends you don’t sleep with single?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “The list gets smaller, but yeah.”

“How about single straight female friends?”

He paused at that, eyebrows scrunched up. After a moment you clicked your tongue with a slight smirk, facing your computer and typing the notes Coulson was writing on the projector. “Hold on, hold on. Yes, I’ve got a few of them. Listen, babygirl, you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

You scoffed. “Don’t call me ‘babygirl’ and we’ll see where that gets you.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fair. What? Don’t you believe that guys and girls can be friends with nothing between ‘em?”

“Yeah, I do. Just not guys like you.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing. “Well that’s not fair. You don’t even know me!”

“Mister Barnes.” Bucky winced at the teacher’s annoyed shout, before throwing Coulson a dashing grin.

“Hey, Phil! How was your summer, man? You still goin’ out with that cellist?”

The professor raised his eyebrows, unamused. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Oh yeah! Thanks for the reminder, Phil!” Bucky stood up and cleared his throat. “Yo! First football game of the season is next Friday! It’s gonna be a blast! Watch out for number 41! Handsome devil’s gonna score the winning touchdown! Avengers assemble, am I right?!”

Coulson gave him an unamused look as the room cheered, making you laugh behind your hand. Bucky fell back into his seat, shooting you a wink as Coulson calmed down the room.

“You’re a football player?”

“Fullback, yes ma’am. Co-captain of the team, in fact.” He smugly leaned his seat onto the back two legs, setting his feet up on the desk.

Unbelievable. Why were you always attracted to these idiots? A player in both senses of the word. “There it is.”

He blinked, his chair falling forwards with a ‘thud’ that made Coulson shot him a warning glare. Bucky smiled innocently, before shifting his chair so he was turned towards you again, the smile turning upside down. “There what is?”

“That cocky, conceited air you fill the room with. Attention is what you live for. I should’ve guessed you were a jock too. I’m surprised you’re not wearing a letterman jacket or something just to make sure everyone knows who you are.”

His frown deepened. “Look, doll. I dunno what you think you know about me, or what you’ve heard-”

“I’ve never heard about you before you lent me a pen Tuesday. Which I appreciate and here it is back, by the way. But I know your type. I’ve been down that road. So excuse me for trying not to make the same mistake twice.”

He stared at the pen you set down by his bag, before his gaze flitted back to you, but you wouldn’t meet those pretty eyes of his. “Fine. Sue me for trying to get to know the new girl.”

“This is a mainly freshman class. Half the girls in here are new.”

“Yeah, but they’re chattering away with the posse they’ve already discovered.” He nodded over across the room. Your eyes scanned the lecture hall to find that he was right. Most girls were giggling and whispering to each other, no doubt freshman straight from high school. The others were most likely maturing sophomores. “And, hey, if you want extra reassurance I’m not trying to get you in my bed; I don’t fuck with freshman. Nothing against you or anything, just…straight outta high school and all that? Not really my jam.”

You eyed him, before shrugging and looking down to make sure you got the notes Coulson was starting to talk about. “Yeah, well, too bad I’m not straight out of high school, then.”

He tilted his head, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. “So you’re not a freshman. I didn’t think you were.”

“No, I am. But I took a year break between high school and college. But if you didn’t think I was a freshman, that reassurance doesn’t really work, now does it.” He opened his mouth to defend himself, but you continued, not wanting excuses. “What about you? You’re definitely not a freshman.”

“Nah. I’m a junior. I studied abroad for a semester last year and there were mishaps my freshman year, so I’ve got a few classes to make up. My friend had this class last year, so I just took all his notes. Coulson never changes his lectures. Pretty sure he doesn’t even change the tests.” You hummed, pretending you were barely listening when you really heard every word loud and clear. Bucky huffed, reaching out to grab your wrist gently, making you stop typing and look up to meet his eyes. “Can we start over? Please. I don’t know what type of guys you used to know or whatever and, yeah, I’ll admit I started the conversation like an idiot, but I promise I’m not that bad.”

Pursing your lips, you scanned his features, taking in the pleading eyes and the pouty lips. Clearing your throat, you took your hands off the keyboard, straightened a bit, and turned to him, holding out your hand, your full name falling from your lips.

The beam he gave you had you severely doubting your initial thoughts about him, his larger, calloused hand taking your eagerly. “James Barnes. Everyone calls me Bucky.”

You nodded, before starting to type again. “What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering.”

You paused, not expecting that answer. Maybe you were wrong - majorly wrong. “Really?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Technology’s always interested me and I like fixing cars and stuff; I work at an auto shop actually. I dunno what I’m gonna do with it yet, but it feels like a step in the right direction, ya know?”

“I’m afraid not.” You shook your head. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He chuckled, drumming his fingers against the table. “That’s alright, doll. I don’t think anyone does. They just think they do.”

“That’s…very true, actually.”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I told you: I’m not an idiot all the time. I swear.” That made you laugh.

Bucky talked to you throughout the rest of the class, never going above a whisper as he babbled about his other classes and how one of his friends, Sam, tripped down the stairs that morning. You were almost annoyed at him, but he was a very good conversationalist and he wasn’t distracting you too badly. There weren’t any awkward pauses while he stumbled around for something to talk about and if he wasn’t talking, it was a comfortable silence filled with Coulson’s voice, pen scribbling on paper, and the clicking of computer keys. He never pushed you for responses, either, only asking a couple questions, like where you worked and what other classes you had.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you.” He said a few minutes before class was over. “I’m just bored.”

“No. You’re fine.” Honestly, besides a few flirty comments and that pet name ‘doll’ popping up here and there, he wasn’t as bad as you were thinking.

He went quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, almost nervously. Your forehead creased as you snuck a glance at him. He licked his lips, a hand combing through his locks, scratching the back of his head. You wondered why he did that so often.

“So, uh, there’s this cabin in the woods by the lake about half an hour away…” His eyes widened at the weird look you shot him. “Oh fuck, that sounds so bad. No, no. It’s not - I’m not a serial killer or anything. My friend owns it. Well, technically his dad does, but it’s his. Anyways, he always throws a party the first weekend of a new semester. On Saturday. Noon to midnight. If you’d wanna come.”

You quirked an eyebrow, packing up your stuff as Coulson dismissed class early. “You’re asking me to go to your friend’s cabin in the woods-?”

He shook his head with a little laugh. “It sounds so sketchy. I promise it’s legit, though. Honest. You can ask anyone. It’s Tony Stark’s party. He holds one every-”

“You’re friends with Tony Stark?”

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. We’re in the same circle. I know how it sounds, but-”

“I’m working.” You cut him off, finding it amusing how he rambled. Who knew a fuckboy could get so nervous about asking a girl to a party. “But if you give me the address I’ll see if I can get some time off.”

“That’d be awesome. Yeah, yeah. Here.” He quickly grabbed the post-it note you handed to him and scribbled the address down. “It’d be really cool if you could make it.”

“I’ll try. Cross my heart.” You smiled, taking the paper from him. “I do have to go, though-”

“Oh right. Yeah. Work. I’ll see you this weekend, then. Maybe.” He grinned.

You bit your lip, nodding. “Maybe.”

As he started walking out, you looked down to grab your bag, the pen left on the table catching your attention. “Hey!” You called after him, making him turn around, walking backwards with that grin still on his lips. You lifted the writing utensil to show him. “Your pen!”

He shook his head. “Keep it! I don’t take notes in this class anyways!” He shot you a wink, before spinning on his heel, his hands in his pockets, whistling some random tune, without a care in the world. 

**********************

“There she is! So?! How’s school been?! I wanna know!”

You grinned at Whitney as she bounced in, looking at you excitedly while going to wash her hands. “You’re working early today. It’s only 3.”

She shrugged. “They wanted me in before dinner rush tonight. Don’t dodge the question!”

“It’s been fine. I’ve met a couple people, doodled a few things, ignored syllabus talk - the usual.”

She sniggered, moving her eyebrows. “Any cute guys so far?” You thought back to your History lecture and Bucky, who confused the hell out of you. Whitney’s squeal pulled you out of your thoughts. “That’s a yes! Tell me about him immediately!” 

“It’s not a ‘yes’. There’s nothing to tell.”

“But he is hot, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips pulled up at the corners. “He’s…very easy on the eyes.”

Whitney gave an excited squeak, quickly drying her hands and putting on gloves before sliding up to you. “So? Tell me all about him.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“Bull.” She called out. “What’s his name?”

You huffed, focusing on the pizza you were making. “Bucky.”

She tried it out on her tongue before nodding. “Cute, cute. How old is he?”

“He’s a junior, so I’m guessing 20. Maybe 21 if his birthday was in the past week.”

Whitney hounded on you for every detail of your conversation, which you told her with some exception, leaving out the pen and some of the random stuff he told you. “So he’s a fuckboy?”

“Oh yeah. No doubt.”

“But he’s a charming fuckboy?”

“Mhmm.”

“And he’s not a dick?”

“So far.”

“So…he’s your type.”

You scoffed, giving her a look. “I don’t have a ‘type’.”

She gave you a bemused expression back. “Honey, it’s not a secret you like the charismatic guys that every girl swoons over. You just don’t swoon over them and that’s what makes you different.”

You scowled. “I don’t swoon over them because they don’t deserve my effort. And no. I don’t have a thing for them. I just…tend to get their attention more than other guys.”

“Because you don’t swoon over them.”

“Whitney-”

“Okay, okay. What happened next?”

You shrugged. “Nothing. He just sorta…talked the entire class. He did invite me to a party on Saturday though-”

“Oh my God! You have to go! College parties are the best! You’ll have so much fun!” She stopped to give you a serious look, pointing a finger towards you. “You’re going, right?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I’ve got to ask Phillips if I can get time off and I-I dunno if I even want to go.”

Whitney groaned, throwing her hands in the air and letting her head fall back. “This is the first party of your college life! There shouldn’t be any doubt!”

“Apparently Tony Stark is the one throwing it-”

“Are you fucking - you can’t not go!”

You snickered, Whitney’s persistence amusing you. “Again. It depends on Phillips. We’ll see. I promise.”

“At least tell me you got this guy’s number.”

“Nope.”

Whitney glared at you. “You are the absolute worst person to try getting drama out of, you know that? You’re not interested at all in this guy?”

You shrugged, turning to throw the pizza in. “Maybe. I wanna try out this whole friend thing first. Tommy’s the first real guy friend I’ve had since middle school and that’s mostly because he’s gay and we barely even talk outside work. I’ve never just…let myself take a break from dating before.”

A sigh came from the other girl, who reluctantly nodded. “That’s good, actually. Take a mental break. I respect that. But please, for the love of God, please try to have fun.”

You smirked, nodding. “I’ve told you, Whit. I know how to have fun. Don’t worry; if I do go to that party, I’ll have enough for both of us.”

“Yes! I have to live college through you now, so it’s your responsibility!”

You mockingly saluted. “I won’t let you down, babe.”

[kipscorner]

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!” 

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

[bibbumblebee]

If I posted an excerpt of a fic I’m writing about Stardew Valley’s Elliott, would it motivate me to write to it more? There’s a supreme lack of Elliott fic, and that needs to change!

(Probably should note in includes two original characters: Charlotte and Levi.)

————

In his anxiousness to be on time to meet Charlotte, Elliott wound up being twenty-five minutes early. Instead of waiting inside the Stardrop, he chose to stand outside under the streetlamp, hoping that Charlotte wouldn’t think he’d been waiting too long. It wasn’t his fault, not really. He took his time getting ready, but he’d started getting ready just after lunch; his brain was too hectic to write. Every time he sat down at his desk to pen a line or correct an older passage, his thoughts turned to her, and he found himself staring at his papers for minutes on end. Daydreaming.

How had he not noticed it before? He was taken by her.

He leaned against the cool metal lamp post and smiled at Marnie as she made her way up the lane. She waved, said something, and disappeared inside the saloon. Elliott must have said something to her, but what? He hadn’t been paying attention. He hoped it hadn’t been rude.

He wasn’t sure when he first fell for Charlotte. It must have been recently, otherwise he would have noticed sooner. Right? It couldn’t have been from the very start, when he caught her sitting on the dock, bare feet pointed toward the water, sketchbook propped in her lap. He hadn’t even formally met her at that time; he’d only seen her from the shoreline, watched the way her dark curls rippled around her face in the sea breeze. Admired how smooth her skin was in the cool blue ocean air. She hadn’t noticed him then, and he’d retreated to his cabin to write. He didn’t go over and say hello, so he couldn’t have fallen for her then.

But then why did he remember that day so vividly? Why did Leah question him the moment she saw him that evening if not because she could see it in his eyes? She had told him he belonged to her, after all. He’d always belong to her.

I’ve got you, she’d said. And I don’t want to let go.

When they first met, Elliott adored that possessiveness. After so many years of belonging to no one, and having no one to belong to, Leah made him feel whole and wanted. Now he wasn’t so sure how he felt about her. All he knew was that when Leah touched him, he thought of Charlotte. Her hand on his wrist. Her soft breath in his ear.

He hugged himself in a sudden chill. Whatever Charlotte had done to him, whether by breath or touch, didn’t mean anything. She’d never said a word to denote how she felt about him, beyond her general concern for his wellbeing. She never said she wanted him or cared for him explicitly or anything of the sort, and so Elliott couldn’t be sure. He was a writer. He needed words. He needed her words.

In a rush, he was reminded of Leah, hair wild, eyes wide, cornering him in her bedroom.

Listen, she’d said, it’s you and me, remember? Where are you right now?

What? He’d said, even though he knew the question well.

In your head. Where are you?

He couldn’t tell her where he really was. He was on the beach, sitting in the light of a late-night fire, toes buried in the sand. He was reading poetry to Charlotte, who sat next to him, eyes trained on his mouth. She had such expressive eyes, glowing and blue like fairy-lights in a garden. Even though he could never tell what she was thinking, he could often read emotion in her face, could sense her moods like weather on his skin. And even though she wouldn’t suggest one way or another how she felt about him, in his head, he knew quite well: She wanted him, just like he wanted her. Because he did want her. And he feared Leah knew that, could tell in the way he shied away from her, made excuses, hid himself away.

I was thinking about my cabin, he said. It wasn’t wholly a lie.

You’re not at your cabin, she replied. You’re with me.

I know.

You belong here with me.

I know.

We just work so well together, don’t you think? Her voice grew soft, just like it always did. I don’t think you could be with anybody else.

His voice grew soft, just like it always did. I know.

So stay.

I’ll stay.

But when they returned to bed, and he finally heard her fall back asleep, his mind had wandered away again, back to the beach. If he ran, he’d be able to steal a few minutes alone on the shore, or write poetry by the quiet hum of the ocean.

Instead, he turned on his side and watched the shadows grow longer across the floor.

It was a memory that came to him often, although he wasn’t sure when it happened. More specifically, it happened so often that he couldn’t be sure which time he was thinking about. He sighed and looked at his watch, taking a deep breath to slow his breathing. He still had ten minutes before Charlotte was supposed to be here.

Maybe I should just go, he thought. He’d only asked Charlotte out tonight because he knew Leah would be gone. At least, she’d said she would be. There was an exhibit in Zuzu this weekend. The moment she’d told him that, he fabricated some excuse to stay in Pelican Town (something about revising his novel in the quiet, even though he had no novel to revise), and however he’d said it must have convinced her.

Still, to be going behind her back…

Behind her back? Elliott watched the second hand tick around the face of his watch before glancing upward down the shadowy lane. We were never exclusive. And by exclusive, he meant they weren’t dating at all. She took him everywhere with him, forced him along to her events and insisted he sit with her, talk to her, stay with her, always stay with her.

But she’d never called him by anything except his name.

Besides, this wasn’t a date, what he was doing with Charlotte. It was getting drinks and listening to music. It was two friends catching up. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He heard footsteps on the cobblestone, and from the shadows he saw two figures emerge. Levi strode forward, his shoulders broad in a snug shirt. He smiled when he saw Elliott, his face easing open like a garden gate.

“Hey Elliott,” he said. “Glad you’re here.”

Elliott wasn’t sure why Levi would be glad. Just before he could reply, or ask why he was happy to see him, Levi stepped inside the saloon and disappeared.

In his wake came another figure. Charlotte.

Elliott’s breath caught in his throat.

Whatever words Levi had just said left his mind. All he could see was her. She wore a black dress that hugged her waist and curved in a heart-shaped neckline. She tugged a lavender cardigan tighter over her shoulders as she stood in the yellow light. A strand of hair had fallen loose from its twist, and Elliott watched as she tucked it behind her ear.

“Hi,” she said.

It took him a moment to reply. “Hi.”

She looked so small, hugging herself in the evening chill. Elliott stood up straight, his back stiff from leaning so long against the lamp post.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

He would have waited all day for her.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

FP//The Midnight Club (part 4)

hey! thats right, after the long awaited return, its back!!! and because i feel so terrible about leaving it for so long, the rest of the series is written too (and edited!!!), it just needs posting. anyway, i hope you like it!! and i hope it was worth the wait. seriously, thank you for being so patient, i love you all. (part 3)

In movies, Saturday detention always looks fun. Sneaking around, pouring your heart out to people you see everyday but know next to nothing about and making new life long friends. In reality, its spent doing a whole load of nothing.

You rest your chin in your hand and stare at the blank board ahead. You were the second one here, after Penelope Blossom and as soon as you walked through the door she sent you a disapproving look.

You and Penelope get on almost as well as you and Alice. She’s an annoying teachers pet that likes to write you up when she catches you and FP so much as holding hands.

The seat you chose when you got hear was a good one, near the back and away from Penelope. But then the rest of the your classmates turned up and suddenly you found yourself sat between FP and Alice, both of which were trying to kill each other with just looks. 

“Leave me alone FP.” You whisper. It’s the third time he’s tried to talk to you since he got here, and every time you’ve told him to go away. It seems finally he gets the hint and huffs loudly before leaning back in his chair.

You glance behind you to see Alice already looking at you and you send her a small, unsure smile. She just scoffs and looks down at her gloved hands, leaving you to stare at the top of her head.

“Welcome...to Saturday Detention.” Principal Featherhead’s loud but tired voice draws your attention the front of the class again and you force yourself to try and listen to whatever’s he’s droning on about, but in the 2 seconds its taken for him to let out a breath, you’ve tuned out.

It’s weird when the closest thing you have to a friend is Alice Smith. The rest are just acquaintances...and FP, who right now could be dead for all you care. You’re still not over last night. 

There’s clearly something going on between him and Alice, the more you think of it, the more it makes sense. And you’ve thought about it a lot, all of last night in fact. 

Your boyfriend knocked up Alice Smith...and then you. It makes you wonder if anybody else is expecting, you could make a little football team at this rate. 

It’s bad enough having Saturday detention, but it’s even worse that he’s here, especially when you’re running on less than an hours sleep. 

It’s just one Saturday. Eight hours, seven people with nothing in common.

Well, almost nothing.

The bad girl

“Alice Smith?”

The rebelling Catholic

“Hermione Gomez?”

The teachers pet

“Penelope Blossom?”

The artist athlete

“Fred Andrews?”

The political animal

“Sierra Samuels?”

The good girl

“Y/n Y/ln?”

And the ladies man

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr?”

You piece together the reasons everyone’s here. Alice and Penelope are here for fighting, something Alice told you about in detail last night, despite you wanting to sit in silence and watch Winona and Johnny fall in love. But you will admit...she did deserve it. 

Sierra and Hermione are probably here because they were in the bathroom just before you left, so they got caught in a wrong place, one time thing like you. The friend that you’re covering for isn’t even here, instead she’s probably in bed, or at Pop’s while you’re sat here taking the fall for her. 

Fred and FP were caught streaking, which was funny at the time. Seeing FP and Fred run down the corridor with no clothes on was a sight, made even funnier by Principal Featherstone catching them. But now you just want to slap the smirk that seems to permanently reside on FP’s face off. You have never hoped he has a hangover more.

“While you’re here today you will not talk.” Featherhead starts while making his way around the desks, handing out paper as he goes and you have to hold in a sigh. “You will not play” He says and snatches Fred’s drumsticks away, making the boy huff quietly and sit up straighter. “You will not move. I don’t even want you to breathe.”

“Charming.” Alice mutters and you stifle a laugh. Sierra clears her throat and everyone looks at her.

“Yes?”

“What if we have to pee?” She asks.

“You hold it, Miss Samuels. And at the end of the day, you will deliver a 1000-word essay as to why you’re here today.” He replies and you all let out a collective groan. “I will be right down the hall, in my office, all day long...cause I have nothing better to do.”

The clock reads 11am, meaning you’ve only been here for two hours and they’ve been the longest two hours of your life. Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you for so long has made your vision go weird so you  focus on the clock instead. You know why you’re here, ‘caught smoking’ is what you’ll have to write, despite the fact you were just holding it. But how are you supposed to stretch that into 1000 words?

A scratching behind you distracts you from your thoughts making you look behind you. Alice sits on the windowsill with a knife in her hand as she scratches against the wood.

“Dude, can you not?” Fred asks annoyed and she stops abruptly.

“Dude? Can you bite me?” She retorts. Fred rolls his eyes before turning back around.

“Oh, my God. Shh.” Penelope says loudly and now its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Psst. Sierra.” A different voice is a welcome distraction for all of you and everyone looks at the door, hoping and praying that its something exciting.

Tom Keller peeks his head round the door, a smile growing on his face when he spots Sierra and she quickly stands up, making her way towards him.

“Sit down. We’ll get in trouble.” Penelope scolds but Sierra ignores her.

“Tommy.” She smiles and the two of them kiss. Your eyes widen at the sight and you hear a few muffled gasps from the other students.

“Brought you some sustenance.” He says and waves a paper bag at her. She smiles again and grabs the bag from him, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods and kisses him again before he leaves as quickly as he came.

“Sierra?” Fred is the first to break the stunned silence. “You and Tom Keller?” She nods and he lets out a short laugh. “Guys we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten. How do we not know anything about each other?”

“We’re not friends. Cliques don’t cross pollinate.” Penelope replies. “Haven’t you seen Heathers?”

“Well, we’ve got six or more hours to kill, and no one to impress. How about a round of Secrets and Sins?” Sierra says, a small twinkle in her eyes as she looks at each you.

You gulp and share a look with the rest of the group, yours and Alice’s lingering for a little longer than the rest.

Sierra is the first to sit down, an excited smile on her face as she watches the rest of you reluctantly sit. Fred’s next, and then Hermione who sits beside him. Penelope sits on the other side of Sierra, FP sits next to Fred and you sit beside him, making sure to put a good amount of distance in between you. Alice is the last to sit, doing it as dramatically as she can and earning an eye roll from Sierra and FP.

“I’ll start!” Sierra says. “Tommy and I have been secretly dating for a few months now.” She admits.  

“Why secretly?” Hermione asks.

“Our parents don’t want their children dating someone so...different. To use their euphemism of choice.” She replies, the previous happy smile is long gone. It’s replaced by sadness and she looks at the old, faded carpet, trying hard not to think too much of it. 

“My mom’s all up in my relationships, too.” Hermione adds. “You know Hiram Lodge?”

“Uh, yes.” Fred replies and a few of you giggle at his response. “Dude is ripped.”

“And a petty criminal.” Penelope mutters.

“He’s a self starter who provides for his family.” She defends. “But to my mom, he’s a scrub. ‘Thats the way to to the American Dream, mija.’ But what dream? She cleans hotel rooms in that stupid Five Seasons, 16 hours a day. Hiram’s got the right idea. Get out of Riverdale. No matter what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” Fred starts. “Except...Riverdale’s not the problem. Me? I wanna stay here my whole life.” He says making Sierra laugh and you shake your head. You can’t think of anything worse. 

Although now, you just might be stuck here. You’re destined to live in a crappy trailer, barely keeping it together and watching your friends move on with their lives. Oh god, the thought alone makes you want to cry and throw up all at the same time and you let out a shaky breath. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach as you try to slow your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Fred asks and you force yourself to look at him, faking a smile and quickly dropping your hand to your thigh.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod. FP moves to hold your hand but you quickly pull it away, sending him a scowl and he quickly retracts his hand back. Fred notices of course, but decides to stay out of it, instead looking at the old carpet. Alice rolls her eyes at the two of you and looks straight at Fred. 

“Is that how longs its gonna take you to decide between music or baseball?” She asks and Fred flips her off.

“Our minor league is solid. And we’re close enough to the city to play music gigs. This towns got it all. Could even see myself running for mayor one day.” He says, and he’s the only person in this room that you believe could actually do that.

Fred Andrews is something different. He’s friendly to everyone, no matter where they come from or what they are. He’s somebody you wish you could be more like, and you can see him changing the world someday.

“Ugh. Nightmare job.” Sierra huffs. “Why not shoot for something bigger? You can do all those things in a real metropolis.”

“Yeah. Except look after my dad. He’s sick. Real sick. And he took care of me my whole life, so, now it’s my turn.” He replies, his expression saddening and a frown appears on your own face. Tears well behind your eyes and one rolls down your cheek. It lands on your hand and your curse your hormones for making you cry.

FP reaches out again but you just shuffle further away from him, wiping your tears as you go and he lets out an annoyed sigh.

Hermione places a comforting hand on Fred’s knee and he looks at it for a few seconds, seemingly getting lost in his thoughts for a while before quickly changing the subject.

“Alice, you’re up. What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

The tension in the room shifts. Penelope, Sierra and Hermione share a look and you watch as FP and Alice glance at each other.  

“Um...”

“Lets skip her.” You interrupt and she sends you a glare.

“I don’t need your pity Y/n.”

“Alice just tell them about the time you lit a dumpster on fire on the southside” FP says bored.

“Wait, that was you?” You ask, earning a few confused looks from the rest of the group. You remember that fire, it caused quite the rage on the Southside because the serpents thought it was a rival gang seeing as though it was right outside of the Wyrm. “...FP told me.” You add quietly.

“Why don’t you tell them that you actually live in Sunnyside Trailer Park?” She replies and for a second you freeze, thinking she’s talking about you.

“I thought you lived on Elm Street.” Penelope says shocked and you realize she was actually talking to FP.

“Yeah, of course. Because it’s what Forsythe wants you to believe. You parade around the school in your varsity jacket like a Northsider. You even got yourself a northside girlfriend to help you fit in.” She says and looks at you. “But don’t kid yourself. You’ll never escape the Southside. You’re gonna end up just like your dad.”

“Alice.” You warn. He may have pissed you off, gotten you and some other girl pregnant, but he is not his father. He never will be and you feel yourself jumping to his defense quicker than you probably would have liked.

“Downing six-packs in your double-wide.” She continues, staring straight at him.

“Maybe, but I’m not gonna hit my kid. Not like my old man hits me.” He replies and looks at you, his eyes glancing at your stomach for a split second before looking back at her. The group goes silent, no one daring to look at each other and even you avoid eye contact with him.

“Oh really? Which one?” She laughs and you quickly look up. Everyone looks up surprised, but before they can question anything Alice storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Its quiet for a few minutes, before FP takes a deep breath and continues his story.

“I told him I didn’t wanna join his gang. That I wanted to be the first Jones to go to college. He didn’t like that.” He holds up his broken wrist. He hates the way they’re looking at him, like he’s broken, like he’s a victim. But he feels better when he feels your hand resting on top of his. “I guess he sort of got what he wanted. It looks like I won’t be going anyway.” He whispers the last part, turning his hand over and holding yours as best as he can.

“Okay. I guess I’m next.” Penelope interrupts the moment you’re having but you don’t let go. Instead you shuffle closer to him, you’re still pissed, beyond pissed even, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a hug. “Fair is fair. The Blossoms. They’re...terrible people.”

“But, Penelope, you’re a Blossom.” Hermione replies confused.

“No, I’m not. Not really. I grew up at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy orphanage.”

“Oh, my God, Penelope. That place has like, violated every humanitarian code.” Sierra says.

“When I was eight, the Blossom’s came and asked to see all the red-headed children. The next thing I knew, I was leaving with them. I was so excited. I very quickly realized this was not an altruistic adoption. I was being groomed. To first be Clifford’s sister. Then, eventually, his life companion. Every second away from that house, even today, is a relief.”

“Why are you still living there?” You ask, genuinely curious as to why she would stay there.

“They’re my family.” She replies.

“That’s not family. It’s basically incest. It’s disgusting.” Hermione adds.

“At least I’m not cleaning other people’s toilets like your mom.” Penelope argues and Hermione stares at her annoyed, trying to think of an insult.

“Well, at least she has class. She’s not stealing child brides out of orphanages.” She spits and Penelope gasps.

The two of them start fighting and you hear Fred and Sierra complain before moving to separate them. FP stands and helps you up, quickly moving you out of the way and you end up backing into something much worse that an accidental punch. 

“Congratulations. You all just upped your sentence from Saturday detention...to four.”

[dibberdipper]

Cheap frat party beer

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Drinking, suggestive themes, language

Word count: About 1,500

Summary: Pining was never Poppy’s style. No matter how much she’s going against her gut feeling, she just might not regret going to this boring party.

Author’s note: I tried to fix as many grammar mistakes as I could, I am so sorry if you found a few. Thank you so much for the comments of support on my last post, this is my first official fic on here so I really hope everyone enjoys! 

Her name was Poppy Min-Sinclair. She needed no introduction, she knew it was pure luck and privilege that led her to the top of the Belvoir food chain. She had everything, from the perfect grades, the perfect ranking, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect boyfriend, she could go on.

But for some reason ever since that new girl stepped foot in her life, she was left wanting something more. Bea Hughes came along and took over her entire life in an instant. It frustrated Poppy to no end. How could a girl rise the ranks so quickly in mere days? How did she already gain the attention of the whole school?

More importantly, the question she was the most startled by was why she was so infatuated. She had never felt this helpless over someone since private school. It felt like every encounter was a ticking time bomb until she finally gave in and forgot about who she was. She could be absolutely anybody she wanted, yet she wanted nothing more than to be the Belvoire’s newest fascinations girlfriend.

Instead of paying attention in class, or actually paying attention to the daily mindless gossip, she found herself reliving memories made days prior. The intrigue when she first met her, the pure rage and what almost felt like fun when Bea pretty much threw her in the jello pool, and the embarrassment that was her take down.

“What, are you obsessed with me?”

Just thinking about that moment sent her butterflies in her stomach fluttering, she’s never felt that familiar warm sensation on her cheeks at least since elementary school.

Before she could finish her daydreams, to her disappointment they just had to be interrupted.

“Poppy? Poppy!!”

She rolled her eyes.

“What am I, a dog your trying to train? Stop yelling in my damn ear.” She sneered at her friend.

Chloe huffed. “Poppy, you need to go to this weekend’s party. The last one was like, so embarrassing for you-“

Poppy sent her a warning glare, she gulped in response.

“My point is you need to show up and try to embarrass her back.”

Though deep down, she felt a rush of excitement for what could possibly go down, silently regretting her relationship status, but she could never let her thoughts be known.

She gave her right hand woman a sly smile. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll give them a show.”

Over the weekend

“Oh, um, babe I didn’t expect to see you here after the last one.” He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for her response.

Poppy’s attention wasn’t on her boyfriend, but on the girl at the other side of the room. Bea took a moment to notice her, and gave her a sly smirk when she did. Poppy gave her a cold look over her shoulder to keep her facade of disgust up. After a tense moment, Carter nudged her shoulder.

“Babe?”

Poppy finally came up with a response after not paying attention to him, her eyes still glued on Bea’s.

“Well, I had to show somebody I’m not willing to give up my spot so easily. I have to show everyone at this party that I’m Poppy Min-Sinclair and not just ‘Bitch that was yeeted into jello’-“ Before she finished her rant, she tore her eyes away from Bea for a moment to glance at Carter. It was evident Bea hadn’t caught only her attention.

Time seemed to freeze as she felt a plan spin in her head. She was no stranger to orchestrating these evil ideas, otherwise she wouldn’t be ranked number one. She took in her surroundings; Carter’s wandering eyes, the cooler behind them that was filled to the brim with cheap canned beer, and the inviting stare from the girl across the room. She took a deep breath, no matter how many times she’s concocted these ideas, they didn’t make her feel anymore secure.

“Fuck it.” She reached behind her, opened the cooler, and chugged the bitter taste as fast as she could.

Thinking she was only trying to prove herself ‘cool’ Carter chuckled.

“Baby, I don’t mind leaving for a bit to get you something you’ll actually like from-“

“No, you listen here!” She jabbed a finger to his chest.

“I’m not going to be humiliated and stand around while you’re eye-fucking another girl. You’re as disposable as anybody else in this damn school, and I’m not!”

She knew she was no lightweight but nobody else knew that, not even Chloe. She caught Veronica live-streaming her whole ‘meltdown’. If everything backfired, she knew she could easily hide behind the classic too much beer excuse.

She played off most of the eyes watching her, as she swayed her hips over to the only pair of eyes she cared were watching. Perhaps to everyone else it looked like a cat fight about to go down, or a thinly veiled threat. But only Bea Hughes and her partner in crime Zoey Wade knew what she really whispered.

“Go upstairs, turn left, and walk ahead until you see the last dorm on the right. Leave five minutes after me.”

Before she walked away, she was sure to send a glare to Zoey.

“Alone.”

Poppy impatiently tapped her fingers on her lap wondering if it was all a mistake. She bit her lip, questioning herself and whether everything backfire until the door slammed open.

“Poppy I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but-“

“Kiss me.” The words blurred out of her mouth without her even realizing it.

Bea’s mouth hung wide open in shock. “I… I’m sorry, excuse me, but what the fuck?”

“Do you want me to say please or what?”

Bea closed the door behind her, and took a few steps over. The room was almost completely dark, with the exception of the moonlight crawling in with the party lights. She felt Bea’s hands, that she noticed were bigger than hers, cup her face. She took in her deep dark eyes, the beautiful brown tone of her skin, and her inviting lips adorned in red lipstick. Bea drew back.

“Look your breath smells like alcohol, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She was turned her away, but Poppy grabbed her hands in protest.

“I may not look like it, but I swear I can handle plenty of drinks. Don’t walk away when I’m not even drunk.”

Bea met her eyes, and gave the woman in front of her with pure desperation in her eyes her signature sly smirk.

“Is Poppy Min-Sinclair, ranked number one in Belvoire, begging the small town girl to kiss her?”

Poppy swallowed any cocky remarks back, along with her pride. “She is. If you keep her waiting, she might just walk out.”

Poppy felt Bea’s warm hands on her face again, and her sultry whisper in her ear. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we…”

Bea nibbled her ear, making Poppy let out a soft moan. A sound neither of them knew she could make until that moment.

Their lips met after only a week of glaring, pettiness mixed met with almost immediate pining, and just all around sexual tension. Neither of them knew a sensation could be so intense with somebody they had only just known. They skipped the friends milestone, straight to enemies, to whatever they were now.

Bea’s hands wondered into her hair, Poppy’s hands roaming over Bea’s back. Her fingers trailing downwards, her heart beat’s pace quickened. She anticipated every moment next. Poppy felt Bea’s hands linger at the hem of her skirt, when they heard the knob turn. They pushed each other away, straightening her clothes. Poppy immediately dropped down and hid under the bed as the door opened.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while and I wanted to be sure you didn’t need any backup.”

Bea sent a playful glance to Poppy, Poppy’s heart freezing. The rush of excitement overwhelming her, she didn’t know whether Bea would expose her right now or keep their secret act in the night a secret.

“Little miss Poppy Min-Sinclair never showed up. A shame really.”

Zoey laughed. “You really scared that girl into chickening out of talking to you.” Poppy glared at Bea, and Bea stifled a giggle.

“Anyways the guys downstairs want to play beer pong, you can go up a few ranks since Veronica’s live-streaming. You can’t miss it!”

Bea shot a sneaky look at Poppy, and looked back at Zoey.

“Ten minutes tops, ever since Poppy essentially ditched me here I’ve gotten a bit sleepy. When I’m done I’m going to sleep in here, I’m sure whoever this room belongs to won’t mind too much.”

“Sounds like a plan, ready to kick some ass Bea?”

They walked out of the eye sight for Poppy, and she heard them leave the room with one last piece of dialogue slipping out. Poppy’s heart sunk.

“Please don’t try to wake me up or anything, I have a feeling I’ll be in there for a few hours.”

Poppy slowly tiptoed to the door, closing it. She sighed and sat back on the bed. There was nothing for her to do for the next ten minutes but sit there and smell like cheap frat party beer.

Thank you for reading! Tagging: @lolimugly @origmansello @grapecaseschoices @mvalentine @greatestflirt-hero​ @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @coldbatfriendroad@that-one-choices-person @ariel-0318 @drethanramslay @queensayeed @kawaiibanditmoneytaco @rotten-teddy-bear @aguywiththreepairsofglasses @elijahmessenger @axiel90 @ritafarrr @erza-elcy-crimson @poshbiscuit @sarasansone98 @ghalind @that-one-choices-person @dervaux @generaldameronss @adrianadmirer @anonymous--anteater @everythingchoices

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 3/?

-

They end up avoiding each other for days. From what she can tell, Diego spends barely any time in the flat at all. She suspects he’s not even sleeping in his own bed most nights. And so she’s effectively all alone, except for the couple of days she goes to work in a small café, a job she basically does to keep busy, not because she actually needs the money.

On the first day she thinks she might find somewhere else to live, half out of wounded pride and half because she feels a bit guilty for apparently making Diego practically move out. But who is she kidding, money isn’t the obstacle in this city, the fucking housing market is. There’s no way she’d find a place like this, with a roommate who does his part to keep the place clean, has, so far, never brought people over, and in fact spends most of his time at work and out of the house, anyway.

And Lila liked– no, likes Diego.

In hindsight, the worst she can accuse him of is that he put his foot in it when he had ultimately been trying to do the right thing… if very badly. Apart from that he’s generally easy going, if a bit stressed out about work, from what she can tell, and… well… a lot of fun in some respects. He also really seems to care about people. He mentioned a brother one time, who he seems to look out for a lot, though he didn’t say it in so many words.

And the other night when she left her room after their argument, and the flat was completely empty, she found her abandoned sandwiches covered by an upturned bowl, and the considerate gesture made her feel even more foolish about how she’d blown up at him.

So yeah, she won’t be moving, but she does hope that things can just go back to normal between them, that she can at least feel relaxed at home, living with someone who she casually gets along with, who doesn’t hate her, and if that’s what it takes, she’ll even do her best to stop remembering what his lips feel like all over her body.

-

Lila’s a bit at sea in her life. She’s recently given up halfway through a post grad history programme and she doesn’t quite know what she wants to do now. And the long days doing very little, only broken up by the occasional hours working in the café and getting to deal with the full force of the public make for a very effective insomnia cocktail.

So Lila gets up in the middle of the night to make herself some chamomile tea.

The kettle has just boiled and she’s pouring the hot water over the tea bag in her mug when she hears Diego quietly come in through the front door and only making it to the couch before sitting down with a near silent sigh.

She really hopes, for all the trouble it ended up causing them last time that he’s not going to whip out his dick again.

She takes a cautious look out into the living room and spots Diego sat on the couch, leaning forward with his hands buried in his hair, shoulders hunched over and looking tense.

On a whim, Lila grabs another mug and tea bag, fills it with more of the hot water from the kettle and then picks up the two mugs and carries them out into the sitting room.

She’s not actually being particularly stealthy, but it seems Diego’s wrapped up in his own head, because he doesn’t notice her until she sits down on the edge of the sofa, leaving a respectful bit of distance between them, and he startles out of his hunched position and looks up at her warily.

Lila does him the favour of ignoring the brightness of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth are drawn downwards, and instead holds out one of the mugs towards him and asks, with true sincerity, because this could be her chance at things going back to normal, “Tough day?”

Diego stares at her for a very long moment, not even studying her, just staring straight into her eyes, and in the end Lila sighs and is just about to put the mug on the coffee table in front of them, when Diego’s hand shoots out and he takes it off her.

“Yeah…” he says quietly while holding the steaming hot tea in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t take a sip though, he just stares into the gently swirling tendrils of steam.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lila asks carefully.

Diego gives her a sideways look, almost as if to gage her sincerity and then stares back at his mug.

“D’you think it would help?” he asks back. It seems like he’s both resigned to the idea that it wouldn’t, but almost hopeful she’ll say it will.

“Only one way to find out,” Lila offers with a shrug.

It’s ridiculous, really, how the tiny upwards quirk of the corner of his mouth affects her.

Diego pauses nevertheless and Lila waits him out. It’s not like she has anything better to do.

Then he sighs heavily and says in a low voice, “Had to tell a mom who hired me to find her runaway daughter that her kid got killed in a car crash six months ago…”

Lila watches Diego rub his thumb over the droplets of condensation on the outside rim of the mug and doesn’t really know what to say to that, so she goes with the first thing she can think of.

“That fucking sucks!”

Diego makes a noise that’s halfway between a harsh laugh and a sniff and just says, “yeah.”

They sit like this for a while, neither speaking, just sipping their slowly cooling drinks until Lila breaks the silence.

“What would you have done if you’d found the girl and she hadn’t been dead?” It’s an odd question, she knows, so she does understand why he turns to look at her quizzically, but it makes her almost squirm under his scrutiny nevertheless, so she starts explaining, “I ran away from home once…” but she doesn’t know how to finish the thought.

Lila ran away from home when she was sixteen and she hated everything about her life with her adoptive mother. Absolutely every single one of her material needs had been met and yet she had felt so lonely and so unloved that she had thought then, she’d rather live in squalor with just a scrap of affection from anybody than spend another day in that big empty house of her mother’s.

Diego stops staring at her and instead turns his attention back to his mug again, slowly moving it around in between his hands.

“I’d have asked the kid what she wanted to do next, that was the deal her mom and I had.” He turns to look back at Lila and holds her gaze. “She came to me, telling me her daughter ran away when they were living in a bad situation with the kid’s stepdad, but that she’d managed to get away from him now. I checked up on that info and it seemed legit, so if I’d found her daughter alive, I would have told her that her mom was looking for her and where she could find her… Shit didn’t work out that way though.”

He casts his eyes down to where Lila is fiddling with her own mug. She wonders for a moment how her life would have gone if someone like Diego had come looking for her instead of one of her mother’s semi-legal contacts.

Diego looks back up at her and something changes in his expression and Lila only notices that some of the tears that she could feel brimming in her eyes must have slipped out, because he lifts his hand up to her face and brushes over one cheek and then the other.

Lila makes a tiny noise that’s a bit of a gasp and a bit of a sob and she doesn’t know if it’s because of her own sadness or his gentle touch.

Diego’s hand lingers for a short moment on the side of her face and then he pulls it away abruptly, turns away from her, and facing forwards again he says tensely, “Uh, sorry for ruining your night with my sob-stories.”

The shift in the mood is too rapid for Lila to react and Diego must take her lack of a response as tacit agreement because he goes on, suddenly not able to look at her, “Yeah, uh, it’s pretty late anyway… are you done with that? I can take it to the kitchen with mine,” he asks carefully taking her empty mug out of her hands and then getting up off the couch at the carefully calculated speed that doesn’t quite look like he’s fleeing, but it’s also very clear that he’s trying to get away as quickly as possible, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Lila has no idea what just happened.

-

Diego’s lying awake in his bed.

The apartment is completely quiet, he’s had a whole mug of fucking herbal tea, and when he walked in through the door he felt like the only thing he could do at that point was sleep, but of course now he’s wide awake.

He doesn’t allow his thoughts to drift to Julie Brown and her mom because that’s just too devastating. He was only the messenger, he barely knows Ms. Brown, it’sjust one of those small tragedies that happen all the time all over world, and yet he feels like if he thinks about the lost opportunities and the terrible fucking timing of it all, he might just shatter.

But where his thoughts do drift isn’t actually that much better.

He did it again. Somehow he upset Lila again, even though all she’d tried to do was be a decent roommate, maybe even a friend to him. And if he could only keep his hands off her for five minutes, respect her fucking boundaries, maybe they still have a chance at some kind of cordial relationship.

Diego moves angrily about, trying to find a comfortable position. He punches his pillow to get it to co-operate but when he settles down he still doesn’t find sleep.

Consequently he is still as tired as last night when he drags himself out of his room and into the kitchen in the morning, and absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he walks in on.

Lila is there.

As is Allison… as is Klaus.

His two siblings are currently arguing over something that Diego is too stunned to tune in to and he quickly glances at Lila to see that she’s watching their back and forth with amused bewilderment.

For a second he has to quell the urge to pinch himself to check he’s not wondering around a very strange dream, but then Klaus spots him in the door and claps his hands once and then says in that never quite sincere tone of his, “Oh Diego, wonderful to see you and how nice of you to join us! Want some coffee? I made some coffee!”

His brother swivels around in the small kitchen as if looking for something, and apparently Lila catches on because she turns to a cabinet above her head, pulls out a coffee mug, and as she moves back around to hand it to Klaus, their eyes meet. Traitor, Diego think and almost as if she can hear his thoughts, she gives him a half smile and a tiny shrug, and suddenly Diego’s stomach swoops and can feel heat creep up his neck. He hopes his siblings don’t embarrass him in front of Lila. Which is ironic, seeing as he’s been doing a damn good job of that himself.

Of course he has no such luck.

“Ok, I’m in a hurry,” Allison says tersely, looking at her wrist watch and then crossing her arms.

“Diego, we’re here because this is unbearable to watch. Clearly you are in debt, when you absolutely do not need to be. So once again, I’m asking you as nicely as possible: Would you please for the love of god, accept your fucking inheritence?” Her volume gets increasingly louder and by the end she’s thrown her hands up in exasperation. “I mean, you’re a thirty year old man with a failing business and you’ve had to resort to taking a roommate!” She adds a bit more calmly, “No offense, Lila!”

“None taken,” Lila says. But Diego notes that there’s a tiny edge to her voice that indicates she may have taken some offense. Diego can’t blame her.

“Jesus, Allison, it’s not the fucking nineties. Loads of people, in their thirties, live in shared accommodation, don’t be such a snob!” Diego is absolutely not in the mood for this ambush and he almost doesn’t care at this point if they end up having their weekly family argument in front of LIla. “Anyway, I renounced my inheritance!”

“Yes, and it was all very dramatic!” Allison adds, sarcasm in her voice. “But then your share reverted to us and we all agreed we’d hold onto it until you come to your senses, so just take the damn money, Diego!”

“I’ve told you before, but I’ll happily tell you again, if I have to, I do not want the old man’s money! Give it to Klaus, if it’s burning a hole in your pocket, I’m sure he can think of more fun ways to spend it than on loan interest payments!” Diego stares down his sister, but out of his entire family, she is probably the one who has never once been cowed by his quick anger.

“Oh I absolutely would,” Klaus says chirpily into the tense stand off.

“Urgh, whatever!” Allison says with an eyeroll and then pulls her arms apart and turns to Lila to say politely, if not particularly warmly, “Lila, it was nice meeting you,” but Allison doesn’t let her answer before she starts making her way out of the kitchen.

She stops right by Diego and the genuinely gentle hand she lays on his arm is quite the contrast to what she says next.

“Do feel free to come crawling to me when you can’t stand the taste of instant noodles anymore.”

She then leans up and kisses his cheek before disappearing around the corner and before he can decide to call a snide comment after her, Klaus is in front of him, handing him the forgotten cup of coffee and then also leans in to give him a delicate kiss on the cheek and he says, “Don’t be a stranger, Diego!”

“What are you talking about, Klaus, you basically never get in touch with me!” Diego responds with some genuine indignance, and a slightly dumb and puzzled expression passes over Klaus’s face and he says contemplatively, “Oh is that the case? Well, I’ll try and do better.” He pats Diego’s cheek, but in true brotherly fashion, it’s just a tiny bit too close to a slap, before following Allison out of the apartment.

When he hears the door shut, Diego suddenly remembers Lila and he turns back into the kitchen and for a second the words die on his tongue just from the way she’s watching him intently and with bright eyes.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “Sorry about that! Siblings,” he shrugs uncertainly, “you know how that can be.

“I really don’t!” says Lila, her tone remarkably even, and Diego only realizes belatedly that there’s a tiny twitch to the corners of her mouth and it strikes him then that she’s trying not to laugh, “but that sure was educational!”

[lovelyirony]

I have this college au headcanon that was inspired by a post I saw on Twitter: rhodey and tony aren’t roommates so they don’t know each other but they do see each other in the library and rhodey has the biggest crush on tony, so one day when they both finish studying really late tony offers rhodey a ride home and ofc rhodey agrees it’s the boy of his dreams he can’t say no, and that’s how he found himself walking back to the library at 2 am to get his car from the library’s parking lot

At the start of college, Rhodey doesn’t know anybody. He’s a kid from DC going up to Boston. No one else from his high school was going to MIT, and he felt pretty much alone. 

Sure, he’d make friends along the way. A guy in his biology class had already made a funny joke he could comment on next class. But there still wasn’t anyone here he knew. 

So he went to the library. Libraries didn’t care if you were there with friends or not, and maybe he could find an interesting book about planes or something. He didn’t know. 

What Rhodey found instead was a very cute boy already two-books-deep, with three more piled to his right. He has a the geekiest classes (lenses thick as a damned textbook), a charming way of focusing on the text, and was apparently the only person on campus who could rock the rattiest sweatshirt he’d ever seen. 

Of course he’s in love. 

Rhodey sneaks glances and doesn’t really get any reading done. The guy also sneaks glances at him, and they look away. 

When Rhodey leaves for the night, he waves goodbye. The boy does the same. 

It’s a good start, right? 

Except...there’s no real reason for Rhodey to just straight up go talk to him. 

Or when he does try, there’s something that happens. 

He’s about to go sit next to the boy, who he’s been smiling and waving at for about three weeks now, and there’s someone else going over to him. 

“Tony, are you seriously still at the library this late?” She asks. 

“Pep, of course I am. Studying doesn’t wait for daylight.” 

“Neither do I. For bed. Come on, before you stay up until four in the morning again because you convince yourself you found a conspiracy theory in a math book.” 

“Technically, I could be right...” 

And so he leaves his books and waves goodbye at Rhodey. 

Rhodey is not sure if Pep is a girlfriend or not. 

(He feels bad, but he really hopes not.) 

At least now he knows his name: Tony. That seems like a good name for him. He likes it. 

-

The next time he sees him, Tony is looking bad. Like, seriously tired. He has deep under-eye circles, can barely lift a page, and generally probably needs to be in his bed more than the library. 

He falls asleep on top of the book he’s reading, and Rhodey takes his cue. 

He first stops by the coffee shop next to the library, picking up a hot chocolate and cookie. 

He then leaves his jacket draped over Tony. 

His old sweatshirt was just not cutting it. (And maybe Rhodey thought Tony just might wear his instead.) 

So he leaves and drives to his apartment for the night. 

- 

Tony wears his sweatshirt. 

Like all the time. 

Every time he sees him at the library, there it is. 

(Rhodey also had to explain to his mama why he needed to buy another one, and he said that his “mysteriously disappeared under questionable circumstances.” We all know it did not.) 

Tony waves at him and almost looks like he’s going to talk to him, but then Carol comes over to Rhodey and starts talking about their new assignment in class and time gets away from him. 

- 

They end up don’t talking that first year. Like, at all. 

Pepper and Carol both think their friends are stupid. 

“Oh my god, you seriously didn’t say a word to him?” Pepper asks. 

“It’s a library!” Tony stresses. “You don’t talk unless you want to give the librarian a license to kill!” 

“They won’t kill you,” Pepper says, rolling her eyes. “You know how many business majors go to the library?” 

“Including you? More than enough.” 

“Hey--” 

Tony smiles. 

- 

Carol is trying to coach Rhodey. 

“You can go talk to him. You’re a smart guy, cute under certain lights, and the most capable person I know.” 

“Are you...are you pep-talking me? Is this what you’re doing? To talk to Tony?” 

“Of course I am! You haven’t done it all year!” 

“It’s not for lack of trying, Danvers. Believe me.” 

- 

It’s final’s week, and this means everyone is in the library. But there’s an unspoken rule that you don’t mess with other people’s tables. Except Rhodey’s table gets stolen by sorority girls who he’s too intimidated to even approach. 

So he sits with Tony. Doesn’t say a word. Just sits, smiles, and gets out his study guides. 

They’re there later than anyone. Most everyone has accepted their fate/doom/journey, whatever the hell you wanna call it. They’re headed to get dinner or drinks or maybe both. 

Rhodey and Tony are not. 

They are there until midnight, when the assistant at the library is tearfully begging for them to leave. 

“You need a ride home?” Tony blurts out. 

“Um, yeah,” Rhodey says, distinctly remembering that his car keys are hidden by a stack of books regarding mechanisms of various machines. 

So he technically doesn’t need a ride, but this is a chance to maybe get coffee with Tony later, so he’s taking it. 

He just needs to swipe his keys and walk casually out. 

“I’m Rhodey.” 

“Tony. Sorry we haven’t seemed to get a word in until now.” 

“I know, weird right?” 

(This was not a coincidence. Pepper is in a sorority, and has been working steadily on getting a “study group” together at a very specific table at the library.) 

Rhodey climbs into Tony’s car. 

“Wow, I love the car.” 

“Thanks! I helped to rebuild the motor, and...” 

They get into a whole conversation about rebuilding cars. Rhodey misses the turn and apologizes like crazy, and Tony giggles and smiles. 

“Would you...would you let me take you to coffee sometime this week? As a thank you and an apology for getting me a ride and finally talking to you after so long?” 

“I would love that,” Tony says, grinning. “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey.” 

Honey. 

This keeps Rhodey from collapsing from tiredness as he walks all the way back to the library (about a mile and a half away from his apartment) to get his car. 

Worth it. 

[darling-i-read-it]

Supposed Fiancé

Mob AU

Series Masterlist  

Al Pacino x reader, Robert De Niro x reader, also including Uma Thurman, Emilia Clarke and Rachel Weisz

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: talks of murder, cussing

Author’s Note: I did it, I really started a new series. I’m going to plan this one out before I post this part too. I’m thinking like three or four parts or something but we shall see! I really hope you guys like it! 

I’m using the actors to play a role I have created. This is not based off of real life. 

Summary: You are marrying Al, the biggest crime lord in New York, despite the fact you don’t want to. Many people surround the wedding that’s going to happen, people from different lives. 

(not my gif)

After everything happened everyone knew your face. Everyone knew that it was the only thing they should fear. That they shouldn’t fear Bobby, they shouldn't fear Al or even Rachel. What they were meant to fear had always been you in the end. 

They should have known earlier. 

They should have looked at the two worlds that you were ripping apart, the people that you had wrapped around your finger and thought twice before they underestimated you and your ideas. 

The world needed to learn to take a step back when it came to you.

The world needed to learn to take a step back when it came to you.

The world needed to learn to take a step back when it came to you.

Let you do what you need to do and move along.

Otherwise the wedding would happen again, that one wedding that never should have happened in the first place because the bride was not in love with the groom but the groom had more explosives than the government. 

World collided at that wedding that should never have touched.

In the middle of it all, there was you.

-- 

“Alright, I’m out of here,” Emilia said. If she had been a police officer like she had been to school for people would have wished her a nice weekend. Instead she only told her cat that she was heading to the other room for bed.

Ah the world of being a private investigator. 

She was able to do the same things that the police did but without being in a corrupt organization. She was her own boss and she could buy her own donuts when she wanted them.

She stood up from her desk that was where she usually worked. It was raining outside, despite the fact that it had been sunny only a few hours earlier. She hadn’t realized that it had even started to rain until just then as she looked behind her desk at the gloomy night weather. New York had never been the best place to live and she wanted to leave when she was able to. 

But for now she was stuck here, looking down at a couple of files she was able to snag that she shouldn’t have had.

She was already wearing pjs but she walked over to her bathroom and brushed through her teeth, mentally wondering what she needed to get done the next day. Her mind started to wander and she wondered if she was ever going to get that case she needed to get done. 

Emilia was so caught up in her own head that when she heard the front door open it startled her enough to jump. She turned around in the bathroom and opened the door a tad to see if anyone had entered her apartment. She didn’t see anyone but still grabbed a towel stand from in the bedroom and walked outside with caution. Maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe she hadn’t actually heard the door open.

She saw the front door was shut and checked each room in the small apartment. Her cat was still there and no one else seemed to have been inside. Nothing had been touched at first glance. 

She walked over to her desk which had papers strewn around, along with photos she had taken of unfaithful couples that she was about to pass on. On top of the stack was not one of her files. 

She picked it up and looked around one last time before flipping it open. 

There was a picture of a man everybody recognized on top of a thick stack of papers. 

Al Pacino stared back at her, the crime lord of the city. She stared back at him, wondering why someone thought it  was necessary to drop a file of him on her desk.

She sat back down at the desk, deciding sleep was to be pushed back a while longer.

--

Uma cocked her gun one last time and the bullet she released hit the man in the neck down on the streets. There were screams down below her but she sunk back underneath the window so that no one else would see her. She let out a long sigh as her phone rang. 

She stood up, her combat boots hitting the empty warehouse with an echo.

“It’s done?” Al asked. She nodded even though he couldn’t see her.

“Who was the guy?” she asked. He chuckled on the other end and she wondered yet again if he would give her any kind of straight answer. Likely not. 

“Someone that should be dealt with.” 

“Right.” 

She put her phone between her ear and her shoulder. She put her large gun back into the bag that looks vaguely like a violin bag.

“I’ll call you when I need you,” he said. She took the phone back in her hand and nodded.

“Course.”

The phone line went dead and she shoved it into her pocket.

Uma walked down the stairs of the warehouse and walked right past the man she had just killed without anybody stopping her.  There were more people surrounding the man now and some people had called the police but she would be long gone before they got there. 

She put her sunglasses on as she walked to her car. 

She had been doing jobs for Al for a while now. There was nothing personal that she felt about him, no need to be on his good side except for the need for a good paying job and not being killed. 

Al was the most dangerous man in the city, everyone knew that. She was simply ensuring that she wasn’t killed along his rampage by helping him out here and there. That was all that she could do in her line of work.

Uma got into her car and drove away, just as the police passed her to the scene of the crime she had committed.

--

“No. No I am not going to go out and kill someone Al,” you said leaning against his desk. Al was looking at you as he paced the small office, his hands waving wildly around as he spoke to you. He stopped and turned to you after a moment.

“You have to. You’re my fiance. It’s going to be your job soon.”

“My job will be to be a good housewife, if I heard you correctly when you were talking to your friends.” He shook his head and walked closer to you, waving his finger in your face. You let him and thought about biting it as it got closer but you thought better of it.

“Do you know how many girls want to be you?” he asked. 

“Plenty of those dim witted ones that worship the ground you walk on.” You walked around him and then behind the desk, looking out at the New York night sky. It had started to rain. “Or those men who act like they worship you but really are too scared of you to do anything else.”

“The wedding is in two weeks. I don’t know why you feel the need to pester like this,” he said angrily. You turned back around to him.

“You think I want this wedding Al? You think I asked for this?” 

“You did in bed last night.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head. 

“We’ll never be in love. Not the way you want us to be.” He grabbed your arm and was close to your face. His father had been the person to set this whole wedding thing up. Prior you and Al had been nothing more than fuck buddies who looked good together. You were on his good side. His dad thought him having a wife like you would get him to stop fucking around with those girls who would ruin his repuation. 

“You’ll learn.” 

You almost spit in his face but instead he backed away. You never felt scared in his presence, not like everybody else did. It was one thing he hated about you. That he could ever use fear to his advantage.

“I will never belong to you.” He looked back at you and smiled charmingly.

“Don’t kid yourself. You always have.” 

--

Robert was sitting in the bar that he owned. He was fishing out some money for a poker game that he was rigged to win, people around him that he barely knew the names of because they came and went so quickly.

He stood up, looking around them.

“I’m going to get some air,” he said and the man sitting beside him nodded, hitting his back a bit.

“Hurry back Bobby!”

He walked through the bar and people parted ways for him. 

He was the man who could rival Al. He was the only man who could rival Al at all. New York had Bobby and Al to be afraid of. Bobby walked outside and leaned against the wall. He was really waiting for someone else to throw in their cards so he could go back in. It was raining pretty hard and he looked across the street to see a girl running through the cold, her hands over her head as though it would protect her from the cold. 

He kicked himself off the wall as you ran closer to him. 

You didn’t know where you were. You had gotten out of Al’s and just started to run. You wanted to run, truly. But it was cold and when you saw Bobby standing there you didn’t recognize him enough to avoid him.

“Where am I?” you asked. He recognized you immediately. The supposed bride. 

“You’re at Bob's Bar,” he said. You looked up at the sign and then back at him. You scoffed.

“Of course I would end up here.”

“Do you want to come inside? Get warm?”

“I shouldn’t. You..you know who I am right?” He nodded, chuckling slowly.

“I won’t shoot you in there.” You purse your lips and teetered on your feet.

“You swear?” 

“You haven’t been in this life long have you.” You shook your head. “Come in.” You followed him inside and immediately felt warmer. You were somewhat glad you had made it there somehow. At least you knew what you were dealing with.

“What got you engaged to Al?” he asked, holding a hand up for a beer. You took it happily and took a small sip. 

“I was a stripper. A good enough one to get a proposal,” you joked. “Al’s dad thought it would be better to nail him down. No more strippers.” You looked at Bobby. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“You probably shouldn’t.” You looked down at the beer and your phone rang. You looked down and saw that it was Rachel, Al’s sister. You hit decline.

“We’re fighting.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

You looked over at him and you were half smiling. He liked it. 

“You can stay here tonight if you want. Give him a good scare.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” 

“There’s a small room upstairs. Take it.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

--

Al looked out the window. You had left a few minutes ago and he was just left alone to think. 

His mind was reeling.

The door opened and he turned around, hoping it was you. It was only Rachel who was standing there dumbly even though she looked good. 

“Where is she?” Al shrugged.

“Don’t you have some sort of crush on her? Shouldn’t you know sis?” She scoffed and walked over to where he was sitting behind the desk. 

“What if she wanders to the wrong part of the city? She’s still new here, how are you supposed to keep her from heading to the bar.” 

“That bar is beginning to be more of a pain than anything.”

Bobby and Al were rivals who had never spoken. It was wordless.