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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

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Book Boyfriend a Frankie Morales x Plus Size Reader fic Part two the final

Book Boyfriend

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size F! Reader

Characters: Frankie Morales, Reader, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, William “Ironhead” Miller, Ben “Benny” Miller, Isabella Morales (OC)

Setting: Two years after the events in Colombia (Triple Frontier)

Rating: R, NSFW

Warnings: Smut, Soft Frankie (yes that has to be a warning), cursing, teasing, unprotected sex, oral (male and female receiving), tooth rotting fluff, mixed with a little hurt/comfort, mention of abuse,

Word count: Part 1: 10,284, Part 2: 16,388 (sorry not sorry, I blame Frankie for the wordiness)

Summary: You’ve been so engrossed in your currant book series its lead to Frankie feeling a little left out.

Notes: This is my first Frankie Morales/Pedro Pascal Fic, so I’m hoping everyone loves it as much as I did writing it. Something a little fluffy I thought of while thinking of my own favorite book boyfriends. Using the translator Systran for my very bad Spanish translations. A grateful thank you to @icanbeyourjedi for helping me out with Frankie’s Dog tags.

Tag list: @manalg14 @songbirdcannabe

From Part 1

Finally, home from running errands and wrangling a very fussy Isabella though you couldn’t blame her really. Exhaustion setting into your very bones from running around town, stopping around noon at a play/girlfriend's date. Talking with the girls as the kids played, laughing over the latest things their men have done and the newest book in the series everyones reading. Heat flared to life at the memory of Frankie from this morning during your talk when things turned towards the more intimate. Though you’d refused to share the details just saying he’s better than any book boyfriend you’ve read. Getting teased by your friends up until the moment you left for the grocery store with a very sleepy little girl in your arms.

Chuckling softly you put Isabella down for another longer nap so you could get the rest of the groceries in from the car. Pulling your cell out to dial Santi’s number putting the slim piece of tech between your shoulder and ear having forgot the buds in your purse. Not wanting to waste time on getting the steaks marinated for tonight, you decided a neck pain would be a better choice for now.

Breathing a sigh when he picks up on the second ring, “What do I owe for this unexpected call?” smooth baritone filtering over the line making you smile.

“I need a favor Pope.”

Chuckling, “Finally came to your senses and dropped Fish for me huh, hermosa?” teasing quality to his voice, you picking up the sounds of water running in the background.

Knowing he’s just playing with you though at one time you’d entertained the idea of asking Santiago out. You never got the nerve up instead one cold beer accidentally poured down your shirt later and here you were with the man of your dreams and his beautiful little girl who you’ve fell in love with. You still chuckle at how sweetly apologetic Frankie had been, cheeks stained red with embarrassment at having spilled his drink over you. Though in reality it almost hadn’t been an accident, as all three guys noticed the way he looked at you. Watching the sway of your generous hips to the music, glancing away when you scanned the bar. Never seeing your own eyes rest on him for longer than normal. Only to dart away and back to your friend on your left.

They plotted, Will trying to talk Pope and Ben out of the stupid idea, but neither would listen, while Frankie took off to the bathroom. Coming back, he’d made a beeline for the bar to grab another mug of beer, taking up the spot right next to you. That’s when Benny tried to strike, sneaking up to Frankie’s left side looking to ask you out himself. Only to be beaten when you turn towards Frankie and he to you, a guy from behind barreling his way through the crowd and into your back. Pushing you forward and into the glass he held. Cold beer pouring down your front as a warm hand pressed against your thick waist to keep you from falling. Your eyes locked and from that moment on you’d been a goner.

“Hello earth to Y/N you still with me woman? Or fantasizing about me,” knowing there’s a grin on his lips by the tone of his voice.

Eyes rolling, as your hands work to finish seasoning the steaks, “Keep dream Pope maybe one day it’ll come true. Through I wouldn’t hold my breath,” snarky comment leaving your lips with a grin tugging the corners. “You busy tonight and tomorrow?”

“Free as a bird, why you have something planned? Party? Or are you finally gonna ask Frankie to marry you?” the last question only a half joke knowing that the man in question wanted to ask that one himself.

Gapping for a moment but finding the idea appealing, “Think he’d be okay with that if I did?” Of course, you’d thought about marrying Frankie. Hell for the last year you wanted to ask or at least hint at it. But not wanting to overstep any boundaries he set up for himself. Never brought up, though you’ve thought about it a few times. Finding yourself for the most part content having them both in your life.

“He’d die, but say yes so I think it’s a go,” smiling at the thought. You fit right in with the boys, giving hell just as much as you got. But most of all helping Frankie through his demons, not shying away when things got tough. Rather suiting up for battle with a determination he hadn’t seen in seasoned soldiers. Not to mention the way you took care of Isabella as if she’s your own daughter. “Remember I’m best man, Will and Benny bridesmaids I’m sure they’ll look good in whatever color you choose.”

Giggling at that idea, “I’ll put them in hot pink dresses, halter tops to show off those muscles,” fully belly laugh roars from your lips at the very through of those two grown men in dresses. Santi’s gruff laughter only serves to spur yours on, making you grip the counter to keep from slipping to the floor in mirth. Sobering, grabbing the towel to dry your laughter tears away, “I’m gonna have to tell them you know that right Pope?”

Snorting, “Of fucking course you would,” wiping his own mirthful tears away. “Anything else you needed to ask me hermosa and please I don’t do flower arrangements. Cake tasting I’m all for.”

Finished with the streaks, setting those aside to grab the potatoes to get them ready next while answering, “So noted but you might have to fight Benny on that one babe.” Pulling the aluminum foil out to wrap up the fork stuck potatoes, “That’s not why I called actually. I’m wondering if you could baby sit Isabella till tomorrow afternoon?”

“That’s a no brainer of course I will, Uncle Santi to the rescue,” looking for the car seat and his keys. “I’ve got her bed set up and extra clothes.”

“No junk food Pope or I’ll skin you alive when I see you tomorrow,” voice taking on a hard mama edge. Already having packed a small bag of items, knowing full well that Santi wouldn’t have them on hand. Nor did you expect the poor inexperience man to know what to feed a two almost three-year-old. “I’ve got her a goodie bag packed with what you’ll need and if anything happens…”

“I’ll call Will and Ben, we’ll figure it out unless it’s an emergency,” placing his buds in to continue the conversation and setting to work on getting the new car seat in place. Double checking the instructions, he would never let anyone know he used, wanting to keep his goddaughter safe. The very idea of her getting hurt knocked the wind from his lungs. Shaking that thought aside, knowing you wouldn’t ask for this favor if you and Frankie didn’t trust him. “Better yet, we can three men and a baby it tonight.”

“Oh, good Lord if my child comes back with a tattoo or piecing and drinking a Budweiser, I will have all three of your cocks mounted on my wall.” Trying to make your voice hard but wanting to bust out laughing again. Almost straining yourself from holding back the giggles.

Fake gasp leaving his lips, “Have some taste woman it’ll be a tequila, if it's Bud blame Frick and Frack for that.” Catching the ‘your child’ comment makes him grin knowing his best friend and Goddaughter are in good hands. “Careful cariño your mama bear is showing.”

“I’ll show you three mama bear when I’ve strung you up by your balls if there is one hair on my precious child’s head missing,” grinning, knowing that you love that little girl with all your heart.

“Damn Y/N I didn’t know you were this blood thirsty or is it a cock and ball fascination? Bigger question does Fish know?” biting back the laughter bubbling up, triumphant look on his handsome face when he’s finished putting the car seat.

Shaking your head small giggle leaving your lips, “Watch yourself Santiago Garcia or you’ll find out just what I keep in my purse.”

“Now you have me intrigued. Thank packing heat in that monster bag of yours?” sliding into the driver seat phone call switching to the onboard Bluetooth. Plucking the earbuds out to stow them while driving. “When did Frankie teach you how to shoot?”

Heat tingling your neck, as you sputter out an answer, “He actually didn’t teach me.”

“What’d mean?” confused frown marring his handsome features as he stops at a red light. Hearing his phone ding for a text message from Frankie, deepening his confusion. “Does Fish know Isabella is staying with me tonight?”

Thanking God for the last question, “No, I didn’t tell him just yet. It’s a surprise. Why?”

“He’s texting me now, asking if I can watch Isabella I bet,” pulling into the nearest gas station to answer. “Shall I tell him?” smirking when he hears the low growl from the other end of the phone. “Take that as a no Bella.”

“I swear on all that’s holy Santiago if you tell Frankie…”

“Yes, yes you’ll have my dick nailed to the wall as a trophy,” rolling his eyes though you can’t. Light chuckle barely sounds when he reads what Frankie texted, “So, violent today Y/N.”

Catfish: Necesita un hermano favorito?

(Need a favorite brother?)

Pope: Nombrarlo

(Name it.)

Not hearing anything for a moment, bottom lip trapped between your teeth standing in the kitchen worried your plan could fall apart. But trusted Santiago, “What’s he asking about Santi?”

“Hasn’t yet, just chill Bella like I said he’s probably asking the same question.” Sure, enough the next text that comes in, has another chuckle leaving his lips.

Catfish: Puedes cuidar hasta mañana?

(Can you babysit till tomorrow?)

Pope: Lo que está en él para mí

(What’s in it for me?)

Knowing Frankie’s groaning at his answer, Santi can’t help but tease his best friend. “I was right he’s asking the same thing you owe me five bucks.”

“Fuck you Pope we didn’t make a bet,” rolling your eyes this time and breathing a sigh of relief. You set to work making the key lime pie for dessert, aiming to get everything ready before Frankie came home from work. Along with a shower and dressed in the new lingerie you bought a week ago.

“Shame I could use the dollar bills,” shaking his head at the stupid code he and Frankie came up with for strip club.

Chuckling, “Next time Pope I know the girls miss you raining them with those bills and sticking them in their G-string.”

“How did…” eyes wide when the phone dinged with another text message.

Catfish: Tiempo con tu ahijada y debía uno. Además, voy a preguntarle esta noche.

(Time with your goddaughter and owed one. Plus, I’m going to ask her tonight.)

Forgetting all about how you knew what that code meant, Santiago let out the loudest yell of excitement. Gaining the attention of a few people pumping gas with ‘you crazy’ looks and also making you worry.

“Pope what’s wrong? You, okay?” genuine fear lacing your tone, holding the phone tighter hand starting to shake. “You didn’t have an accident, did you? Don’t you dare ruin my plans for tonight Santiago Garcia.”

Knowing the last threat means nothing, Santi tries to calm down not wanting to give away that he knows something about Frankie’s plan. “Yeah,” clearing his throat to hide the fact he’s lying. “Yeah, I’m good cariño just found out my team won,” hoping you don’t see through his lie. Something you’re almost scary good at.

Releasing the breath held trapped in your lungs relieved sigh pushed out along with the air. Heart broken if anything happened to him. In a relative short period of time all four men have situated themselves into your heart in different ways. The very idea of loosing them would shattered the strongest muscle in your body. The wise words of your favorite whiskey drinking Hunter comes to mind that family doesn’t end in blood.

“Don’t ever do that again Santiago or might just have to punish you in ways that won’t you won’t like,” leaning against the counter trying to calm your racing heart.

“You wouldn’t cariño you love me too much,” grinning, leaning over to scoop up his cell phone from where it landed in his excitement to answer Frankie.

Pope: Acerca de maldito tiempo hombre, sí, voy a cuidar a mi godhija esta noche para que usted y el pronto para ser esposa puede carajo toda la noche.

(About fucking time man, yes, I'm gonna take care of my goddaughter tonight so you and soon to be a wife can fuck all night.)

Chuckling, Pope places his cell phone on the cup holder and restarts the truck heading first towards Will and Benny’s place. Hearing the groan leave your throat followed by a quick ouch. “Now what’d you do?” hissing coming over the speakers in his truck making him worry this time.

“Just nicked my finger is all Santi I’m not gusting blood or anything. Though I don’t recommend getting lime juice in the cut, hurts like a mother fucker.” Moving to the sink to clean the cut, just one more thing to put you behind in getting things ready.

“Do you kiss Frankie with that mouth woman?” pulling into the drive giving a couple of blasts on the horn.

“On the mouth and other places to Pope,” smirking at the disgusted sound leaving his lips. Bandaging your finger up to get back to work. Hearing a horn sound over the cell line, “You hear alright Pope? I heard you honk over the phone.”

“Picking Will and Ben up then heading over to yours,” seeing the two brothers come out he puts the call on mute to speak with them. Rolling the window down to talk, “Suite up we got ourselves a mission.”

Glancing between each other than back at Pope, “The hell you say man, the game’s on tonight, Ben and I were heading to the Roadhouse to watch and see how many times Benny get’s shot down.”

“Fuck you Ironhead,” punching his brother’s arm, leaning on the mirror hearing your voice muttering something over the truck’s speakers. “Why you talking to Y/N?”

“No thanks man you ain’t my type too many dangly bits for my taste,” snarking back landing his own punch to Ben’s shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, “Y/N called we got babysitting duty tonight, Frankie’s gonna pop the question but neither know of the other’s plans.”

Loud cheers erupt from both men to the point Santi must bang on the side of the truck to get their attention to shut up. Having heard you ask something he goes to unmute, “What did you say Y/N I couldn’t make it out over Frick and Frack’s noises assholes selves.”

Huffing, “I asked if one of you could start a fire for me, Frankie gets weird if he knows I did it myself.”

“That’s cause last time you tried you almost burned the house down woman,” Pope snarked pushing Benny away

Coming back, hitting Pope in the chest, “Of course, gorgeous we’ll take care of that for you,” Benny chimes in leaning into the window so you can hear him.

“Down boy, or you won’t get a slice of the pie I’m making,” chuckling you put the phone down long enough to put said pie in the oven and slam the door making you jump a little.

Playfully putting his hand to his chest, “Marry me Y/N, Frankie doesn’t deserve you.”

Both Pope and Will snort at that, but it’s your sweet voice that answers with, “Sorry sweetheart I’m spoken for by a sweet little girl who you’ll babysit tonight and one handsome flyboy that does some very wicked things with his hands.”

Groaning, “Don’t give us any visions please I’ll need bleach to get Fish’s naked ass outta my head,” shaking to get the images out. Laying his forehead on his arms while leaning against the truck trying to rub that idea out of his mind, having come to love you like a sister. Will didn’t want to know anything about your sex life.

“Aww what’s the matter William you didn’t see enough of it while bunking together on tour?” teasing tone to your voice plopping down in a chair to wait on the pie. “What time will you three Stooges get here?”

Shrugging, “Twenty or thirty minutes give or take, depends on how long it takes the blond wonder twins to pack a go bag.” Santi answers getting murders looks from both men.

“Make sure you ask them their measurements Santi,” biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder. “Let them know pink won’t clash with their skin tone.”

The looks only intensify combined with a confusion at your words, “Thanks Annie Oakley.” Groaning head dropping to the steering wheel. “Which reminds me you’ll have to tell us the story of how you learned to use a gun. See ya in a few,” hanging up before you can say anything else and dig his hole deeper.

“What exactly did she mean by measurements?” crossing his arms over muscular chest, glaring at Pope.

Resting an arm on his brother’s shoulder, “And pink? Really, I’m more of a coral,” trying to keep from chuckling while giving Pope his own glare. Benny realizing what he’d said at the end and tries to cover with adding, “When did Y/N learn to shoot, better yet where’d she get the gun?”

Shrugging, “Just found out today, gonna ask when we get there.” Knowing you can handle yourself more concerned that you’ve learned the correct way to handle a gun. Never wanting you to actually have a need to shoot but incase Santiago wants to make sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself. Especially if Frankie didn’t show you or know. His mind rewinding to the fact, “Coral? What the fuck dude? How the hell do you even know what that is?”

Dying of laughter, Benny turns giving both of them the middle finger salute heading back into the house to grab both his and Will’s go bags. As promised Pope pulled into the driveway thirty minutes later, all three exist, not even bothering to knock just walking right in. Fresh baked goodies and coffee brewing meeting their noses, along with a squeal of excitement from a little blur of yellow and blue.

“Ukcl Po,” flinging herself into his arms, as he’s crouched down to scoop her up unconcerned with his knees popping, spinning around to her delighted peels of laugher.

Hugging her close, seeing you come around the corner with an arm load of firewood bright smile on your lips. “Good y’all finally showed up thought I’d have to start the fire myself,” joking tone. Using your elbow to wave them in.

Will passes Pope and Isabella pausing to ruffle her hair, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead then going over to take the arm load from you. Making you roll your eyes reluctantly giving it over when he gives you that stern look.

“I’m not helpless you know I can move a couple of pieces,” tossing your hands up, smacking Will’s shoulder as he passes.

Shaking his head, “And have Frankie put us on freeze for letting his woman get hurt. Nope, no thank you ma’am I happen to like having certain body parts stay in respective places.”

“It’s not Fish you have to worry about rearranging parts Ironhead its Y/N,” bouncing Isabella in his arms smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ain’t that right Annie Oakley?” grin widening when you turn to scowl at Pope.

“Careful Santi or you’ll wearing the pink dress,” crossing your arms to glare at both men, as Benny chuckles beside Pope. In between making faces at Isabella, her giggles making beautiful music.

Rejoining the group after dusting his hands on his jean clad thighs, “Anything else you need done Y/N?” scenting the air a small growl leaving Will’s stomach.

“You got a bear in there William?” taking Isabella from Pope to put her on your hip while walking back to the kitchen and check on the potatoes.

Low whistle leaving all three men making heat race up your neck a small squirm moves over your body when they see everything you’ve got planned out for tonight. Steaks siting out ready for the grill along with the corn on the cob, salad finished and chilling in the fridge, and the pie cooling. Out of the corner of your eye you spy Benny going towards the pie. Quickly spinning making Isabella giggle to land a hard smack to his hand. He pulls back quickly puppy eyes in place and howls of laughter from the other two men.

“Ben Miller how dare you try to stick a finger in my pie,” scowl firmly in place, Isabella matching the look or at least trying to its more adorable than anything.

Unlike yours which is truly scary and has Ben raising his hands in surrender. “You sure you weren’t in the military gorgeous that look alone would’ve made plenty green recruits wet themselves,” backing up when you go to smack his shoulder.

“Shame none of you will get a slice now,” placing Isabella in the highchair feeling a rush of air pass you by. Looking up to see all three sitting at the table with pleading looks on their faces. Shaking your head smile sliding over your lips, “You three are the worse right Bella baby?”

“Ight mama,” nodding her head quickly, clapping her hands in excitement.

To which Ben leans over to tickle her sides making her squeal even louder. Will and Pope both making silly faces none of them noticing when you pull your cell phone out to take a short video. Sending it to Frankie with the simple words “Our family”. Soft smile gracing your features watching them interact. Your heart expanding in love but also hurting. Wishing, not for the first time, that your own mom and siblings where here.

“Hey,” calling from his spot. Having looked away so Santi wouldn’t see your eyes, turning to pull plates from the cabinet missing the frown turning down his lips. Raising to go over, “You, okay?”

Wanting Frankie there to chase away these thoughts you’ve tried to keep buried. You nod not trusting your voice right then to answer with words. Hating how your mood so quickly shifted spoiling the moment.

Placing a hand on your shoulder to turn and have you face him, “You know you can tell us, me anything Y/N, we’re your family and family takes care of one another.”

Taking a deep breath wringing your hands in front of you, knowing he’s right. Seeing for yourself the genuine concern in those deep brown pools. “My thoughts went to having my blood family here, my mom,” turning to look at Isabella, “she would’ve loved her so much.” Glancing up to see both Will and Benny giving you reassuring smiles that accompany nods of affirmation having heard Santiago’s words about family.

“Blood doesn’t always make family sweetheart standing by someone through thick and thin, never giving up, letting them into your heart that’s what makes a family.” Taking Isabella’s little hand in his, Ben looks at you his words making you tear up but this time in a good way. Eyes lingering on the youngest Miller for a bit longer.

Seeing your tears, “I’d cry to if I looked at Benny’s ugly mug, got a face only a mother could love,” trying to lighten the mood. Hearty laughter filling the kitchen when you toss a balled-up towel at Will’s head. Landing perfectly over his face getting high pitched giggles from Isabella.

“Thank you,” sincerity laced through you tone giving both Miller boys a smile once the towel is off Will’s face. Turning back to Pope to pat his chest, giving him the same smile. “Grab the coffee for me Santi please, looks like I’ve got a pie to cut into.”

With a two-finger sloppy salute and a kiss to your cheek, Santi grabs the glass coffee pot from the maker, sugar and cream sitting nearby. “Anytime cariño, anytime.”

Each with their hands full come to the table setting various items down, coffee poured, and pie sliced out with a heavy dollop of Reddi-whip atop. Moans of pleasure leave all three men, along with compliments and praise for your baking skills. Benny proposing once again which you turn down of course. Everyone tucking in after that first bite including Isabella who has more cream on her cheeks, chin, nose and shirt than her mouth. Her babbling on about different things while enjoying her pie. Brought a warmth to your heart, a rightness you hadn’t felt in your life till now.

Reaching over to wipe off her face, the smile gracing your lips made all three men grin. Santi pulls his phone out to take a couple of pictures to send to Frankie later, knowing he’d want to see them. Hearing the tale tell sound of a camera going off makes your head whip around.

Hating to have your picture taken when it’s needed, “Really I look like shit Santi and you’re taking pictures?” though you try to be mad at him, you fail knowing he’s doing it for Frankie.

“Shit…” little voice states making all four grownups turn to look at her, eyes wide before busting out laughing.

“You’re fault mama bear, I can’t wait till I tell Fish,” gripping the table to keep from falling from his chair laughing, fist banging the hard wood making the plates and forks jump around.

Face going into your hands to hide your embarrassment from the boys, all of whom can’t stop the gruff laughter from bubbling up in their chests. Worried, Isabella reaches out with a pie covered hand to touch your arm. “Oh, ta mama?” sticky fingers patting quickly.

Looking over at her you reach to taking her face in your hands, smile breaking through the embarrassment, to kiss her forehead. “I’m okay baby girl, your uncles are just evil is all,” giving her a wink that makes another peel of laughter leave her lips. Turing to Pope, “I may have to make good on that threat to hurt you by shooting you.”

Still laughing, Santi shakes his head never feeling more at home or free than when he’s surround by his family. Eyes crinkling, he sends a wink to Isabella before fixing his eyes on you. “Speaking of which you never told me who taught you.”

“Must you know all my secrets Pope?” teasing light entering your eyes that fixed on the man. With a heavy fake sigh, seeing the concern under the mirth, you answer. “My brother actually taught me years ago. Frankie took me to the range for practice a couple of times but we ah,” looking at Isabella she covers the little girl’s ears. “We got banned from the place,” giving them a shrug noticing the way all three were giving you a weird look. “Who knew Frankie like’s a woman who could handle a gun. He got handsy and one thing led to another…” smirk sliding over your lips.

“Stop, stop, stop I beg you,” from Will.

Waving his hands before covering his ears, humming “It’s the end of the world as we know it” trying to get what he just heard from his head. “That’s so wrong,” from Benny.

Santiago didn’t look to fazed just a grin on his lips, “That’s Frankie for ya. Should ah known he’s kinky as fu…”

Whipping around to smack Pope before he can finish that word, “Language Garcia.”

“Hey, you said a bad word,” winking at Isabella who clapped her pie covered hands at her uncle Pope. “How good a shot are you?”

Snorting, “Not nearly what Frankie can do but I managed to land a few head and chest shots before it got a little too hot and bothered.” Laughing when all three groan while you rise to pick Isabella up, “Fire please boys and light the grill too while I get baby girl here cleaned up and ready.”

“As long as you stop talking about yours and Fish’s sex life, I’ll do anything you ask,” Benny begs standing, grabbing the empty plates and mugs. Trying to push the thoughts running through his mind on film reel.

Pausing by the kitchen door leading towards the bedrooms, “Careful Ben I might have to take you up on that one. There’s gutters needing cleaned and a garage plus the house needs repainting,” giving him a mischievous smirk at his groan. Pausing to place a chase kiss to his stubbled cheek in thanks for cleaning up.

“If anyone is evil it’s you woman, go,” waving his free hand at you. “Get our little princess cleaned up we’ll handle this,” heading to the sink to wash dishes. Will heading to the living room to start the fire and Pope out the back door to get the grill going for you.

Standing there a moment tears pricking the back of your eyes, “Our family little one.” Heading then to her bedroom to change and clean the sticky pie from her hands and face. Coming back out ten minutes later a sugar high little girl running ahead of you and into Will. Who scoops her up holding her against his chest.

“Y’all might be in for it tonight with sugar baby there,” giving them an apologetic look, handing off Isabella’s backpack filled with cloths and the reusable grocery bag with food to Ben. Giving him a tight hug first, moving to Pope before ending with Will and Isabella giving your little girl a kiss on the forehead. “No, tattoo’s or piercings,” jokingly said a hitch in your voice at seeing her go.

It's the first time she’ll sleep somewhere that’s not her room it makes your chest tighten in worry. Though you know good well that all three men would protect her with their lives.

Slinging an arm around your shoulder as you all walk outside, “Don’t worry Y/N we got this have a good time tonight and know that Isa is taken care of.”

“Three men and a baby huh?” recalling Pope’s earlier comment. “My only question? Which one of you is Tom Selleck?” trying to shake the nerves, using jokes to set everyone including yourself at ease.

“Who and what are you talking about?” Benny chimed in opening the back door of the truck to place Isabella in her car seat.

“Guttenberg,” saying the same thing together, you and Pope laugh wrapping an arm around your shoulders for a half hug placing a kiss to your temple. “You’re too young to remember plus it’s chick flick,” quickly moving away from your pinching fingers.

“They’ve finally cracked, I don’t know what did it but they’ve cracked I tell ya,” Ben playfully mourned only to have Will slam the door almost in his face.

“Guess that leaves you as Selleck and me Danson,” Will snarks with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get this jalopy rollin the Roadhouse waits.”

“Don’t you even,” giving him a dirty look to which Will just grins, closing the door before you can throw anything at him. “Keep those two in line please Santi.”

Chuckling, “Don’t worry cariño, princesa is in good hands,” stepping away Pope turns to give you one last wave. “See you tomorrow sometime, just ah let us know when you’re done fuckin don’t want to bring Isa back too soon.” Ducking the mound of dirt you toss at him with a smile on his devilishly handsome face.

With a wave, you watch them go sigh leaving your lips feeling a little lost without Isabella around. Pocket vibrating breaks you from those thoughts, the guitar solo at the beginning of Angel by Aerosmith starts to play making you smile. Frankie asked you when you made it his ringtone why you picked a song that’s more suited for your ringtone. Shaking your head arms wrapped around his neck explaining that he’s your angel who saved you from yourself. Showing you that despite your size, the past you had you’re worth loving worth cherishing. It took a while for you to actually believe him but once you did, having Frankie Morales as your angel did wonders for your confidence and self-love.

“Hello, my angel,” answering while heading back too inside to get the steaks on the grill and check on the fireplace.

Leaning against the metal outside wall, one leg bend to press into the builds side, “I think you have that backwards hermosa.” Deep chuckle sounding from his lips, making you shiver despite the warmth of the house. “Pope come get our little one?”

A shiver of pleasure runs down your body at the sound of his voice, smile blooming widely. “Nope flyboy, my angel happens to actually have metal wings,” giggling leaning against the counter for a moment. “He did, enlisted the help of Benny and Will for the night too,” checking the clock to see you have just enough time to get the steaks and corn grilled along with a quick shower. “Can I expect you at the normal time?” hoping that his asshole boss wouldn’t keep Frankie any longer than a few minutes.

Bent knee shaking to a beat that’s none existent. His nerves shouldn’t eat at him but the small velvet box rattling around in his pocket gets heavier by the moment. Pulling it out to flip the top still a little unsure if you’ll truly like it. Sunlight caught the round cut chocolate diamond, simply done in rose gold with two trellis of white diamonds cascade down either side. Having bought the ring months back, paying it off a little at a time. Getting lucky by sneaking one of your much-loved rings out to get it sized and back before you noticed it missing. Even hint asking to find out what kind of gems you preferred. Surprised when you tell him about the chocolate diamond. Finding the beautiful stone on a birthday present run with your best friend to the local jewelry store. One that almost matched his eyes and reminded you of him. Soft blush dusted his cheeks at your words that night when you explained tucking away that tidbit of information for later.

As later came, he went to that very jeweler finding the perfect ring he hoped you’ll love. Above that he prays you’ll say yes to being his wife and mother to his daughter. The very thought of you saying no constricts his heart in a vise grip. One he’s sure will squeeze the organ till there’s nothing left but a hole where you once resided.

“Frankie?” frowning when no answer comes from the other side of the line. “Everything all right flyboy?”

Clearing his throat and closing the ring box to stow it back in his pants pocket, “Yes, mi amor everything’s perfect. Sam time as usual, since all the work’s completed there’s just clean up and inventory left.”

“Don’t be too long baby I’ll have dinner waiting for us, I’ve got a date after all,” teasing tone that’s touched by humor. Knowing you could take this one of two ways and deciding on the provoking one. “My book boyfriend is lonely without me.”

Groaning, shaking his head and readjusting the cap covering his hair, “Woman you’re teasing again remember what happened this morning when you tormented me. The promise I made you?” Licking his lips at the very thought, “I’m getting my dessert tonight and making you scream my name for everyone to hear.”

“Promises, promises flyboy I think you’re all talk and no action,” knowing you shouldn’t be teasing him but couldn’t help yourself. Especially when that sexy growl vibrates over the phone making you weak kneed.

Smiling, Frankie pushes away from the wall needing to get back to work so he could get home to you. “No promise sweetheart just facts,” hating to hang up. “I’ve gotta go mi amor, see you tonight, I love you.”

“I love you to Frankie, I’ll see you tonight. Now go finish work there’s a present waiting for you when you get home.” Biting your bottom lip, insecurities rising like bile in that back of your throat. Hope and fear warring in your mind after hanging up with Frankie.

Trying not to dwell on those thoughts while getting the steaks and corn cooked. Once finished you add them to the oven along side the potatoes on warm. Stopping in the living room to check the fireplace and arrange the blankets laying them out for maximum comfort. Heading to the shower to clean up quickly.

Thirty minutes later, body lotions, hair dry and lingerie in place, putting his camo robe over. You check for what felt like the hundredth time the clock on the wall. Seconds ticking by till Frankie comes home and you’re desperately trying to choose a spot for him to find you in. Laying first by the fire but figuring that didn’t look right. Choosing next to lean against the entrance wall just shy of the door, shaking that idea off as it could expose you to anyone walking down the side walk. The kitchen popped up just causally draped over a chair or the counter. Sighing in frustration when none of the places look right. Till that proverbial lightbulb goes off and your grabbing the book you’ve read for the last couple of nights. Laying on the couch, one leg bent at the knee to show off your bare legs, robe open just enough to display a touch of cleavage and the book open but you’re not really reading.

Listening for the moment you hear the key slide home into lock, door opening, “Y/N, hermosa where you hiding?” Voice deep and soothing to your nerves a smile tugging your lips upward at the frustrated growl that reverberates from his chest.

Itching to raise up, show yourself to him but the imp side has you staying in place on display for him. Catching the sound of boots toed off, keys dropped in the little ceramic bowel. Tracking his sock covered footsteps guessing he’s peeked into the kitchen when a soft groan meets your ears. Letting you know his nose took in the smell of dinner. Bottom lip caught between your teeth again patience wearing thin as excitement courses through your veins. Bare foot dancing to the tune of nerves as you peek over to see Frankie’s shadow in the kitchen. Hearing the oven open then close smirk sliding over your lips as another rumble of a groan sounds.

Soft giggles touch his ears, strong legs eat the distance from the kitchen into the living room. Seeing the fireplace alight, “Please tell me you didn’t…” train of thought crashing when his eyes drop to see you laid out so beautifully for him. Pink tongue coming out to wet his lips, chocolate pools darkening, the twitching in his jeans making itself known.

Growing even more pronounced with the slow trek your eyes take. Starting at his waist, couch hiding anything lower from your view, licking your lips to trap the bottom one between your teeth. Seemingly a permanent home for the abused lip. Trailing over his shirt covered chest, thick tanned neck that your wanting to nibble. Over his strong jaw and patchy beard, smirk in place when you see his lips parted in shock. Though a part of you worried it’s more because of how little you’re wearing, baring your thick, curvy body to his eyes. However, those thoughts died a very painful death as heat slips into its place with how he’s truly looking at you.

Unable to keep the gasp from leaving your lips with how desire darken his eyes have become, the crinkling of leather meeting your ears. Making your eyes drop to the callused hands gripping the back of the couch so tightly, knuckles white with the tension and you wonder for a moment if it’ll be ripping soon. Returning your eyes to his, making sure he’s still watching when you return to reading that same paragraph you’ve tried to finish for the last twenty minutes. Loud growl is the only warning you get before the paper bound volume in your hands is ripped away and tossed over his shoulder.

“Frankie,” trying to infuse a little bit of anger into your cadence. But to your own ears it just sounds breathless and needy. Swallowing hard you rise knowing the robe is opened more baring your black lace covered breasts to his gaze. Going to stand but a hand on your shoulder stops you, sliding down to your arm and tugging you to turn. Kneeling into the couch, the only thing between you both except clothing of course. “Dinner’s ready.”

Still staring at you, drinking in the sight of your body half exposed to his eyes. Chest raising quickly with every breath you take, the soft smile on your lips that you lick and make him groan. “I don’t want dinner mi amor,” placing hands on either shoulder to push the robe from your body.

Pooling at your waist the knot still holds fast, “Oh than what do you want mi Rey?”

“You,” simple word never held so much need and want packed into one syllabi, eyes held to yours. Palms sliding over your skin, talented fingers brush under the lace strap perched on your shoulder. Drawing it down to rest on your bicep, breath hitching when he leans in to place a kiss to where it previously resided.

Hands going to cup the back of his neck, toying with the short curls under the baseball cap. Head lulling to the side, giving him access to the sensitive skin of your neck. Taking advantage and rubbing his lips over the soft skin. Bearded cheek tickling, making your squirm wanting to pull away but also enjoying the slight burn. One arm stay’s at his neck while the other moves between your bodies giving a little push to his chest. Making another growl vibrate through his body and into yours. Arms coming around your waist to pull you even closer. Teeth ghosting that little spot just under your ear he knows will make you weak. Placing his lips right there to suck a mark while his hands drop to palm your ass and squeeze. A touch of frustration sings through his veins at not having you pressed against his body fully.

Trying to gather your scattered wits, body thumping with a desperate need, “Frankie,” short whine leaving a dry throat, you try to push him back once more. Not really wanting him to move but the position your both in is only making things difficult.

“Want me to stop?” Breathing the words into your ear, warm air making a shiver race down your spine.

Whimpering, “No, but I’d much rather want you closer and not this couch between us.” Loosening his grip on your body, you reluctantly pull back grabbing his ball cap along the way. Soft giggle leaving your lips as you dart out of the reach of his hands. Almost slipping from the couch backwards, managing to catch yourself and get up while placing the cap on your head. Eyeing Frankie as he stands where you left him though leaning forward, as if to jump over the couch to get to you.

Swallowing hard, heat rising over your skin in the best of ways with how he’s staring at you. An idea pops into your head, fingers going to the knot at your waist. His eyes following the path pausing for a moment to take in your heaving chest, nipples pebbled tight beneath the lace. Licking his lips at the sight before trailing lower to watch with held breath. While nimble fingers untie the knot, letting the Terry cloth fall to pool at your bare feel. Hands itching to wrap around your nearly naked form. To hide from those slowly tracing eyes.

That make there way back up to your face, hunger, desire, love all warring deeply in those swirling dark chocolate eyes. “Hermosa esposa,” (Beautiful wife.) words spoken almost reverently. Drinking in the sight of your body, wrapped in sheer black lace that hides nothing from his eyes, wearing his much loved ball cap. Only served to have a streak of possessiveness dance across his mind. Bottom lip caught between his teeth eyes watching caught in the trance that is your beauty with every step you take.

Swallowing, your feet having a mind of there own as they make the short trek around the couch to stop just shy of reaching him. “Like what you see Frankie?” Worrying your bottom lip, nerves have you fidgeting under the intense stare. Keeping your hands at your sides first then clasping them behind your back. The action pushing your chest out which draws his attention, trying to keep himself from drooling.

Knowing you’ve said something, asked him a question but his brain doesn’t fire off any response. Instead he steps forward, brushing his fingers over your collarbone, touch light as those deliciously callused digits ghost the skin of your shoulders and down your arms. Wrapping strong limbs around your thick waist to haul you against his strong frame. Gasp leaves your lips that he takes advantage of and swoops in for a kiss that’s anything but delicate.

Fierce and demanding, pressing his mouth to yours leading with his tongue that goes in to taste and mate with yours. Toying with the muscle before sucking harshly, tasting coffee, something sweet and a flavor that’s all your own. Pulling a moan from deep within your chest that bubbles up at the same time your arms wrap around Frankie’s neck. Pulling him closer wanting to merge the two of you together. His strong body pressing you into the couch, wondering for a moment when you turned, but not caring. As his kiss stole all thought and reason from your mind, turning you to mush in his arms.

Air becoming a needed commodity making the two of you break apart gasping and resting your foreheads together. “Cariño you can’t wear things like this when I come home.” Pulling back just a little only too groan at the innocently sexy expression in your eyes.

“Surprise,” tugging at the curls getting a low grunt from the man wrapped around you. “So next time you rather I’m naked spread out on the kitchen table?” Teasingly running your hands up and down his back. Stopping to slide both hands in the back pockets of his jeans, cupping his ass to bring him against your pelvis.

“Mierda,” head dropping to your shoulder, the bite of the zipper against his cock making him hiss. Needing inside you wanting to make you sing his name for everyone to hear. Panting for breath, “The guys find out about that and they will never eat at the table again.”

Soft giggles brush his ear, turning your head to press your lips to the shell, “You did say I was your dessert.”

“I did, didn’t I,” wicked smirk sliding over his lush lips, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to rock against your soaked panty covered folds. Letting you feel how hard you’ve made him, the throb of his shaft beating a rhythm only you can dance too.

Head tossing back at the feeling, you use that leg to pull him impossibly closer rocking your hips slowly. Lips pressed against his neck, flicking your tongue out to taste the sweat tinged musky skin. Hands moving to his shoulders under the fabric of the red and black plaid to push it from his body down his arms and adding it to the growing pile. Tracing little patterns over his chest soft smirk in place when your fingers brush over his nipples making him hiss at the contact. Lower to the hem of his beige t-shirt clinging to his skin, sliding your fingers under the fabric to tease the warm flesh.

“I’m your surprise baby, you’re in charge of where this goes,” low growl leaves his lips at your words, making your head spin in desire. That floods your panties with slick and a need to have the man standing in front of you.

Hands start to dance up his chest, when he bends cupping your ass with both hands and hauling you against his body tighter. Looking over your shoulder to see blankets spread out over the floor in front of the roaring fireplace. “That for us sweetheart?” You nod as he trails one hand around to slide between your thighs and over the soaked gusset of your panties sliding two fingers under the edge and over your puffy swollen lips. “This all because of me?”

“You’re to smug Morales,” bitting your bottom lip to keep from moaning. Hips however have a mind of their own as they rock over his questing fingers. “You know that book boyfriend is kinda talented…” rest of the sentence swallowed by the moan exited from your throat. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder a shutter racking your frame with the teasing slide of those thick work calluses fingers through your soaked folds.

Circling your clit with the tips to give a jolting pinch at the mention of your ‘other’ boyfriend. “Seems I have some competition,” dark chuckle leaving his throat at the same time a whimper leaves yours when he pulls his fingers free to suck clean. Helping you place the leg from his waist to the floor before taking you over to the fireplace.

Shivers skate across your body at the deep cadence of his tone, the dark promise of what he’s got planned making slick flood your core and drip down your quivering thighs. Fascinated by how deep his chocolate browns have become while staring into those beloved eyes.

Soft gasp pulled from the back of your throat with his hand upping your cheek, brushing his fingers over the soft skin, free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. “When did you get this little number? Better yet why didn’t you take me with you while picking it out?” Dropping his head to the crook of your neck nose brushing over your skin, drawing in the jasmine scent that’s burned into his memory as yours alone. Making his cock throb dangerously.

Swallowing harshly, “A few weeks ago,” head lulling to the side to give him access. Your own hands returning to that patch of skin just under his shirt. Short nails leaving little tracks over his flesh, marking him as yours. “I ordered it online, first time I’ve worn it other than trying on.”

“Next time I’m gonna be there to watch you try things on,” nibbling kisses dot your neck and shoulder. His path haphazardly moving to the hollow of your throat, biting down on the sensitive skin and leaving his own purpling mark behind. Sweet moans leave you lips a shiver of arousal pours through your veins at the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to.

“I’d never get anything tried on if your there flyboy,” nickname rolling off your tongue, brushing your hands higher dragging the shirt with wanting it off. Tracing little patterns with your fingers to brush over both nipples. Making another sharp hiss leave his lips that rest against your collarbone. Breath fanning out hot and moist over your body trying to focus on giving you pleasure. Yet with each brush of those skillful hands he finds himself getting weaker to your advances. Desperately needing inside you, all those lovely noises you make music to his ears. Taking advantage of the moment you pull back to tug his shirt off tossing it somewhere behind you. Pausing to admire the man who’s captured your heart. Drinking in the sight of his tanned skin, soft yet muscular body gleaming in the firelight.

You’re truly in awe of this man and so caught up tracing each piece of him you don’t realize he’s stepped closer till warm hands grip your waist. Inching the sheer lace up your body till he gets a peek at the lacy black matching cheeky panties your wearing. Hands gliding around to cup your ass, giving you a hard squeeze, drawing another moan from your lips. Eyes sliding closed as your body sways to lean against him. “Your right cariño you wouldn’t because you don’t need these lacy clothes to tease me. Your mire present does that. You make me rock hard and all you have to do is whisper my name.” Voice taking on an octave lower, filled with a longing and love for you alone.

“Frankie,” voice low, filled with a deep arousal you try to contain, his words making your heart flutter with love. Knees weakening to the point your sagging against him. Wanting to state the fact he’s got the same power over you. Voice like silk over your skin, making butterflies flutter in your tummy, tingles dance through your body and heat pools low, dampening your panties. “That damn voice.”

Dark chuckle leaves his lips, hands coming back to bunch the lace in his fists to pull it from your body, joining his shirt. He takes one step back to return the admiration of your body. Fire light dancing off the dips and valleys, highlighting the stiff peaks of your nipples begging for his mouth to worship the soft swells of your breasts and tummy. How your shyly try to turn away but stay still at the same time. The down turn of your chin however makes a frown appear and a dangerous growl leave his chest.

Reaching out two fingers to grip your chin raising it and making you look into his eyes. “Beautiful mi amor, you’re stunning, never think you have to hide your body from me,” letting go of your chin to trace a path down your cheek, between the valley of your breasts and around your waist. Pulling you flush against him, feeling his rough body hairs brushing against your softer skin. The satisfaction of having him pressed so intimately soothes all the nerves and dark thoughts making them run squealing back to where they came from. The affirmation of his words through his touch sets your blood on fire with a need to please him. To show him how thankful to have him in your life rises like a tidal wave.

Cresting the moment you lean in starting to place kisses along his jawline, searching for every spot that draws a moan from his lips. However, Frankie doesn’t let you get very far instead he pulls you back, helping you to sit on the pallet of blankets before the fire. On his knees, he takes the cap from your head placing it on the coffee table behind him. Cupping your cheeks between his large hands, watching you watch him. To lean in for a kiss that’s so achingly tender it has a shiver running over your body that’s got nothing to do with being cold. Arms going around his neck to pull him against you. Teasing the tip of his tongue against the seam of your lips that you open on a sigh.

Taking that moment to slip his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth. Tangling your tongues together as your noses brush and angle trying to find the right place to draw in air without having to break apart. When he does your bottom lip becomes caught between his teeth, nibbling the delicate skin, gathering air to dive back in. This time it’s deeper, demanding those little moans from you. He’s rewarded with one that’s dragged from the depths of your soul making a smile tug at the edges against his lips.

Both gasping for breath, clinging to each other, he noses your chin, running his lips over the delicate skin searching out your mouth again. Drunk on your kisses, the feeling of your hands fisting in his hair, clutching him closer. “Lay back for me hermosa,” opening his eyes to stare at you. Seeing the indecision war with the need to give instead of receive. “You said I’m in charge tonight right?” Nodding not trusting your voice to anything other than totally wrecked right now. “Use your words mi alma.”

“Yes,” swallowing thickly seeing the desire darkened chocolate eyes bore into your own. A shiver skating across your body at the promise those beloved eyes held. “Yes, I did my love, but you don’t…” he doesn’t let you finish that thought.

Instead pressing his lips back against yours unhurried. Taking slow sips from your mouth, nibbling your lips, dipping into the warm cavern for little tastes. Making whimpers of need push from your chest as you rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. Warm work roughen hands cup your breasts, giving the soft globes a gentle squeeze. His thumbs circle the peeking nipples before trapping it between it and the index finger. Giving a hard pinch that’s just this side of pleasurable pain. The little tug going straight to your core, knowing you love how he’s playing you body. Making your back arch against his hand a mewl of need leaving your lips.

Abandoning your mouth to trail nibbling kisses across your jawline, “I want to mi amor, you’re a goddess and I’m here to worship at your temple.” Breath falling over your neck as those words have a shiver running down your body. Heating the skin, heart thumping behind your rib cage he traces with those wicked fingertips.

Moving between your legs, rough blue jean fabric abrading the inside of your thighs as he hovers over you. Watching with passion filled eyes, tongue coming out to wet those kiss swollen lips you know you’ll never get enough of. Arms go to wrap around his neck to pull him down to you, but he shakes his head taking both wrists in one of his large hands to place them above your head.

“Leave them right there sweetheart because if you touch me now I won’t get to taste you,” desperation laces his voice making the cadence drop an octave and drawing a shuttering breath from your lungs.

Never have you seen this look in those beloved eyes as the one right now, pinning you to the blanket covered floor. Body squirming under that dark gaze, thighs rubbing as fresh slick coats your already drenched panties. “Please,” back arching to press your chest into his hands, desperate to have him in some kind of way. Not above begging to get what you want either, “Frankie I need you,” words coming out on a needy whimper.

“Patience mi amor I’m a starving man who’s just discovered his favorite dessert,” lips tipped up in a smirk. Resuming his path over your skin. Leaving goosebumps in his wake of teeth nibbling your flesh, sucking kisses placed in spots he knows only serve to make you moan and sigh. His name a whimpered plea from your bitten lips.

Till reaching the mounds of your breasts, taking one taut nipple between his lips. Sucking sharply and receiving a keening moan that surges straight to his cock. The throbbing pulse robbing a grunt from his chest though he tries to stay unaffected. Your breathy gasps and mewling whimpers start to drive him crazy with passion. Switching to the neglected breast while tugging with his fingers on the abandoned one. Tip of his tongue flicking over the peeked nipple before biting down at the same time his fingers tug the twin. Remembering how sensitive your breasts are and playing them like a skilled master.

His teasing pulls another shuttering breath from your lungs, sweat glistening over your body. Warmth filling your belly with those familiar tingles, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment drinking in the pleasure Frankie brings to your body. Short gasps and moans leave your parted lips as you try to brag air in your starving lungs. Feeling the first strings of an orgasm start to sing through your veins, knowing he’s trying to kill you sweetly with his mouth. Only to have your eyes fly open and look down when he bites the gentle swell of your tummy. Nuzzling the soft flesh with his nose, his eyes lock with yours. Fingers grasping the band of your panties to peel them down.

Placing kisses over each inch that’s bared to his hungry gaze. Tongue swirling around your belly button to dip in and nip before placing a kiss just before your soaked, puffy cunt. Impatience rides him hard, wanting to rip the flimsy material from your body. But also wanting you to wear them again. Biting back a groan of frustration he moves to the side pulling the fabric from your body, flinging it behind him. Pausing to taking in your beauty even as you squirm under the intense look in those gorgeous eyes.

So enrapt by your beauty he doesn’t notice your hands coming down to shield yourself feeling a little self-conscious, till they partially cover your breasts. “Don’t,” the word coming out on a sharp growl that has your eyes snapping back to his. “Don’t ever feel like you have to hide from me Y/N. You’re gorgeous mi amor,” voice rough with unspoken emotions that show in the tight clinch of his jaw. Eyes that drink in every inch of your plush body.

One hand intertwine’s with yours to bring down against the prominent bulge in his jeans. Hissing when you cup his shaft and squeeze. “You feel what you do to me cariño, what your body does to me?” Seeing you nod, swallowing hard as your fingers tip toe up to above the waist band of his jeans. Drawing your nails lightly over his tummy, watching as he sucks in then exhales making you smile.

Nimble fingers making quick work with the button and zipper, hand slipping inside the material feeling the throb of his cloth covered cock against the tips of your fingers. Before he pushes them away making you pout at the loss. “Put that lip away sweetheart you’ll get your chance later,” smirk making its way back over his handsome features. Hands placed over your collarbone to draw them down over your curves pausing to dip his head down. Drawing his teeth over the soft flesh of your hips, hands sliding under you to cup your ass. Giving the generous globes a squeeze while sliding down to his belly.

Groaning when the blanket covered floor makes contact with his erection, moist breath panting over the skin of your hip. Forehead resting on your lower belly to gather himself for a moment. Savoring the softness of your body under him, filling his work roughened hands. Lips worshiping the parts of you that at times make you want to cover and hide. Dipping his tongue along your folds grinning when another keening moan leaves your mouth on a gasp. Back arching to meet his mouth, one arm presses you back down wrapping around your thigh to hold you in place.

Using those skilled fingers to tease the pearl of your clit. Bullying the little nub with light circling pressure that has stars bursting behind your tightly closed libs. Teeth baring to sink into the flesh of your thigh, leaving marks behind for you to feel tomorrow when your walking a little funny because of him. Repeating the same treatment to the twin thigh while semi ignoring the place you want him most. Only those talented fingers keep with light touches. That serve to drive you crazy with need and want. Trying to buck against him silently demanding more but held in place by his strong arms around your thick thighs. Baring your pussy to his gaze, licking his lips he leans forward to draw just the tip of his tongue from entrance to clit through your folds. Making a soft scream leave your body, smirk sliding back into place.

That’s still there when you raise your head to look down at him, “Pay back baby…” gasping unable to form the last few words as his fingers have spread your folds. His lips attaching to your clit and sucking harshly, tongue flicking like the beating wings of a hummingbird. Another scream bouncing off the walls as your first orgasm rushes through your system catching you by surprise. Gasping for breath, fingers fisting the blankets below you, tight coil having sprung so quickly your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Hmm that’s one hermosa I think you can give me another before you take my cock,” chuckling the vibrations shooting through your body making you shake. You try to answer, the words disappear on another whimper, body sensitive to his touches.

Frankie unwraps his right hand from your thigh, fingers teasing along the seam of your body where thigh meets pelvis. Watching with hooded eyes as you gasp once more trying to collect yourself. Though he doesn’t give you a moment to think, sliding one finger inside your fluttering walls, thrusting slowly. Left hand spreading your folds as his tongue attacks your clit, slowly this time. Giving light little kitten licks, circling with the pointed tip before flicking the throbbing pearl. Crooking the finger inside you to press that little spot with each pass. Adding a second to stretch you open, groaning against your folds, “So tight for me mi amor, every fucking time, God.” Eyes dropping down to watch his fingers disappear inside your tight quivering walls. Curses leaving his lips in broken Spanish his hips rutting against the floor needing relief from the throbbing of his cock.

He stays transfixed by the sigh of your cunt taking his fingers, the wet sounds with each thrust, the way your thighs shake around him. He adds a third finger, your voice meeting his ears. Though all he can make out if his name and please. Sparing a glance upward his breath catching at what he’s witnessing. Your hands cupping and massaging both your breasts, fingers tugging and pinching the nipples in time with his fingers. The sight burned into his memory one he’ll gladly keep and try to repeat many times over. Seeing you so wanton and free like this bolsters his ego knowing he’s the reason your on display in such a manner. Even as a spark of possessiveness cuts through never wanting anyone else to experience you in this way.

Sensing eyes watching you, you raise your head to insnare his gaze, licking your lips slowly as your breath catches. Tingles dancing over your body at the way he’s mastered your pleasure. Giving you just what you need and when. Feeling almost as full with his fingers as with his cock though you crave having him deep inside you. But also knowing he won’t give you those desires till you’ve cum once more. Head dropping your back bows when his talented lips seal over your clit. Tongue lapping at the little nub and drawing different patterns to make you see stars explode behind those closed lids. His name chanted to the ceiling while those wicked fingers draw out your pleasure with each stroke and crook. Brushing that hidden spot no man other than Frankie has ever found. A moaning, withering mess under the man’s skilled mouth and hands. That coil tightening in your belly threatening to snap any second.

Caught between wanting the delicious torture to end but also to continue being the pleasurable pain masochist you’ve become. All at once it becomes too much and not enough, hands shoot down to clutch at Frankie’s head. Tugging his hair and pressing him closer as your orgasm washes over you, his name a scream ripped from your mouth. Breath gasping from your lungs, body shattering around his tongue and fingers. You try to push him away, cunt oversensitive from the two orgasms he’s brought you.

Yet he continues tormenting you, with slow thrusts of his fingers, little laps of his tongue. Drawing out your orgasm, working you through each shuttering after shock. Till your spent, hands dropping to your side, eyes closed as you trying to control your breathing. Pulling his drenched fingers from your quivering walls to suck them clean. Humming in satisfaction at your tangy essence, placing one more kiss to your quivering clit making you jump at the contact and moan at the feel, proud chuckle leaving Frankie’s glistening lips.

Placing kisses as he moved up your body, hovering over you once more. A shutter racing over his frame when your legs wrap around his trim waist, feet crossing at the small of his back to press his swollen jeans covered cock against your tender folds.

“You’re pretty proud of yourself huh Morales?” Lashes fluttering just peeking up at him to see the smirk forming on his lips. Wanting to be cross with him for all the teasing but couldn’t summing the energy. Fingers carding through his hair tugging at the mahogany strands to bring his mouth down against yours. Tasting the remains of your essence when your tongue dips into his mouth. Mating with his in a dance that pulls a groan from the man above you.

Hands tracing patterns over his back feeling the muscles shift, short nails lightly digging into his skin as your hips rut in slow circles against his groin. Your own smirk forming when you feel the shutter roll down his body. Detaching his mouth from yours to rest your foreheads together, breath fanning over your face as he tries to hold back just a bit longer. “Now who’s proud of themselves hermosa?”

Giving a small shrug, one hand coming around to glide up his chest. Brushing over his nipple before wrapping around his neck. “I’d say it’s pretty equal now. Though you’re a little over dressed my love,” free hand sliding down to his ass and giving a squeeze.

Wrapping his arms around you, Frankie rolls the both of you over, hands going to behind his head. Dark eyes watching you sit up, straddling his waist, wet folds pressing against his throbbing cock. “Undress me princesa.”

“Do I get to take my time with you flyboy?” Leaning down to place a chaste kiss to his lips, making sure you rub your body against his. Knowing he’s having a hard time containing himself, catching the way his hands are fisting under his head. “I could really draw this out, pay you back,” with each word you place a kiss. Starting just under his chin, to the pulse point on his neck. Nibbling that little spot for a moment to suck a mark. Moving on to flick each nipple, giving little bites to his sternum. Feeling rather than hearing the growl vibrate through his chest.

Glancing up to ensnare his eyes, lips pressing into his tummy more times than there are words. Nuzzling the thin line of wiry hair leading down and under his jeans. “Oh look a map it’s a little thin but it seems to lead me to what I want.” Grinning at the groan echoing from his throat, rubbing your cheek into his skin.

Fingers making quick work of the button, slowly lowering the zipper, hands slipping under the fabric to push from his hips. Leaving his boxer briefs on for now while working those sinfully sexy jeans from his body, depositing the behind you. Sitting on your knees between his legs, drinking in the sight of your love. Running the palms of your hands up his calves to strong trembling thighs, fingers edging the stretchy material that hides little from your imagination. Bracing one hand on his hip you lean down to kiss the very visible patch of wetness. Knowing the crown of his cock rests beneath, lips much like this morning teasing the sensitive head. As your fingers tip toe up to pull down the band of his underwear. Baring his shaft to your hungry glaze, yanking the undergarment down his legs and straddling his right thigh. Rubbing yourself over the quivering muscle that flex’s with the touch of your wet cunt against his skin.

“Shit ba… baby please,” whimper leaving his lips at the feel of your soft lips brushing over the crown. Warm breath making him twitch in need, hands having come from under his head to fist the blankets below. Knowing he won’t last long with how your teasing and tormenting him. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when the warmth of your mouth engulfs the crown. Free hand stroking his shaft, pulling the foreskin back to reveal the sensitive cock head to your lips. Tongue finding that one little spot just under the crown which never fails to make him lose his shit.

Hips thrusting upwards filling your gapping jaw having prepared yourself for that very moment and relaxed to take him down. Saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, coating your fingers helping to lubricate your movements. A whine leaves the back of your throat when Frankie pulls you off his cock, catching sigh of the wrecked look on his face. The trembling of his body, the curses slipping from his lips in a mix of Spanish and English.

“Can’t wait hermosa, need to be inside you, need you to ride me,” voice desperate and cracking. Not pausing in his movements to line you up, knees on either side of his waist. Like a rag doll you let him position you where he wants, not coming back to yourself till you feel the bunt tip of his cock run through your folds.

“Frankie…” calling out to try and gain his attention through the desire fogged brain. Unsure of the position, one that you’ve never tried together. Though you couldn’t say it not one you hadn’t thought about. You just didn’t want to hurt him by being on top.

Shaking his head, positioning your body over his throbbing length. One hand wrapping around the base, long light strokes as he lines himself up. Even with his passion hazed mind, he knows your wanting to disagree with him. Making him sit up, cupping the back of your neck, “My choice mi amor I want to feel you around me, watch you bounce on my cock. See these beautiful eyes,” tracing his fingers to your cheek, brushing over your closed lids. “I want to watch you take your pleasure from me. Please mi ángel,” voice deep and tinged with want.

Lifting your lashes to stare at Frankie, using his shoulders to raise up as he teases your folds with his cock. Brushing over your clit, making you tremble in his arms before lining yourself up and sinking down slowly. Till your thick thighs are pressed against his hips, head tossed back at feeling so full. The slight burn of being stretched by his cock never fails to make you shutter in his arms.

“So fucking wet, tight,” muttering the two words over while burying his face in your neck. Arms wrapping around your waist as yours move to wrap around his shoulders pressing your bodies together. Letting the fullness feeling wash over you, consuming your body. The steady throb of that vein reverberating through your system making you whimper, rolling your hips against his groin.

“Baby please I need to move,” little whines leaving you lips a gasp wrenched from the depths of your soul when he lays back pressing his cock even deeper inside you. Large hands on your hips grounding him, watching with hooded eyes. Feet planted to thrust slowly up into your quivering walls, filling you so completely you don’t know where you end and he begins. Not that you care at the moment, as your worry melts away with the tender heated look he’s giving you.

“Ride me sweetheart,” bottom lip trembling before caught between his teeth. Watching you place a hand on the center of his chest. Rising up till just the cock head rests in the circle of your fluttering walls. Slowly sinking back down teasing the both of you with long deep strokes, moaning when he brushes over your g-spot each time.

Eyes rolling back a gasp leaves your lips when warm hands come up to cup and massage your breasts. Tugging the peaked nipples making your walls squeeze his shaft tighter. A groan forced from his parted lips at the feeling. Watching the way your features morph in pleasure, biting your bottom lip with eyes tightly closed.

“Look at me hermosa,” the command is hard to ignore combined with the tugs of his fingers at your nipples making you gasp. You slowly do as he asked entranced by the way he’s watching. Tongue coming out to wet his parched lips, breath catching in his throat at the sigh you present him. Sweat coating his forehead, dripping down the side of his face, chest glistening as you take him in. Hungry eyes devouring the look of pleasure, the needy little grunts expelled from his mouth. “Lean back on my knees I wanna watch my cock disappear into that pretty cunt of yours.”

Whimpering, pausing your movements to do as he asks. Bracing yourself with hands on either side of you on the floor. Pressing your back against his bent knees that have lowered just a fraction so your spread out backwards on display for his eyes. Hips rolling against his groin, body undulating against him the movements slow and delicate. Filled with a passionate abandonment that never fails to make Frankie smile. Head tossed back gasping breath leaving your parted lips, forgetting about everything that’s not centered on Frankie and the movement of your hips.

“So beautiful amor,” licking his lips, hand moving down to circle the little pulsing pearl with light pressure. Watching you quiver around him, feeling your walls squeeze his shaft, almost to the point of sucking him in deeper. Eyes glued to the apex of your thighs, observing how his cock disappears while his fingers draw different patterns over your clit. The sight nearly making him cum right then combined with the noises your making he knows it’s not long before he’s falling into the arms of pleasure.

Siting up unable to keep his hands and mouth from you any longer, Frankie wraps his arm around your shoulders bringing you down with him. Mouth’s attached in a deep tangling of a kiss that’s pulling small little mewling whines and whimpers from you. Keeping his fingers on your clit tapping and circling making you gasp into his mouth. All the more with the vise like grip of his free arm around your waist holding you in place as his hips thrust upwards. In quick and deep punishing thrusts, chasing that high only you can give him but first he wants you to see the stars. Knowing your getting closer with each thrust, the tight clinch of your walls around his shaft, making him grit his teeth.

With that thought and a need for air you break apart, lips going to your ear, “So fucking good to me mi amor,” groaning breathless. “Taking my cock like a good girl, letting me fuck you like this. Christ the things you make me feel mi vida. I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Frankie,” another whimper of his name leaves your lips that your bury into his shoulder. Eyes dropping closed the closer you get to your release. Trying to grasp on to your sanity with each deep, hard stroke he delivers to your body. His words only serving to make you shiver even harder and when he hits that spot you blank. Mouth gapping in a silent scream of his name, release washing over you and coating his cock that keeps hammering into your quivering cunt.

Teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sucking a mark into the soft skin. Working you through your orgasm as his own begs for release. Balls tightening against his shaft as his hips start to falter in his pace. Hot moist breath leaving his nose that nuzzles the side of your throat over the mark he’s left. Eyes clinch tightly, cock throbbing to his heart beat as he spills his seed deep inside your body.

Both of you are out of breath Frankie moving his hips in short shallow thrusts feeling your combined juices seeping out around his shaft. Groaning when he remembers the one thing he forgot. Hearing the sound you place a kiss to his neck, loopy smile gracing your features. Raising your head to look down at him, hips finally stopped even as the pleasurable after shocks still make your body tremble.

Kissing his chin, nosing that little spot where no beard grows, nipping the skin gently, “Shall I move baby? Am I squishing you?”

“Fuck no you ain’t hermosa and if you don’t stop saying shit like that I’m gonna smack your ass. You feel too damn good laying there and I don’t want to move from inside you.” Realizing what he just said heat floods his cheeks staining them a soft red. “I’m sorry mi ángel, I just don’t like you talking that way about yourself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep the moan from escaping at his words, the force of his tone making you clinch around him tightly. Praying he hasn’t felt the change in your demeanor or the way your heart flutters at his words. Though you should’ve known better when thumb and forefinger pinch your chin to rise it from looking at his chest.

“Amor?” Having felt that squeeze around his shaft, making his heart hammer against his ribs. “Does that thought excite you sweetheart?”

Soft whimper leaving your lips with a shake of your head though you focus back on what you’d intended to ask him after hearing the groan. Trying to divert his train of thought away from a newly found kink. “Why’d you groan if not because…” biting your bottom lip when you feel the stinging bite of his hand coming down on your right butt cheek. Chocking on the moan that tries to leave your lips as his fingers rub the offended area. Burying your heated face in his chest that rumbles under your head. “S’not funny Fransisco,” pinching his side getting a yelp that brings a smirk to your lips.

“Woman you should be wore out,” hearing your playful huff. “Hmm seems I have more work to do mi amor, your still able to think and pinch.” Running his hands over your back, rolling the two of you over so he can stare down into your beautiful eyes softening cock slipping from your warm depths. Making you both groan at the loss. “And as to why I groaned a moment ago,” looking sheepish he leans up to kiss your forehead. Leaving his lips pressed there before speaking, “In my haste to have you cariño I forgot to use a condom.”

Thinking for a moment, small chuckle leaving your lips that turns into full giggles you can’t keep inside anymore. Holding onto Frankie tightly, burying your face back into his neck, breathless laughter ghosting over his skin. Frown marring his features when he feels the shaking that turns into confusion as those giggles reach his ears.

“It’s not funny sweetheart we haven’t talked about…” fingers covering his lips to stop the flow of words.

Eyes locking with the worried chocolate orbits, “Frankie my love if we happen to make a baby tonight I would be over the moon with joy. That’s why I’m giggling,” smiling, little chuckles still escaping. “I want to have your child mi rey,” cupping his cheek to bring his lips down to yours. Placing nibbling kisses before a full press slipping your tongue into his mouth, coaxing a moan from deep within. Pleased smile tugging your lips up as you draw back, “Even if it’s not tonight I wouldn’t say no to trying every night.”

“Mi amor,” endearment spoken on the tail end of a moan. Smile so blinding its as if the sun has been captured and brought inside to shine just for you. Holding you close he crashes his lips against yours, taking your moans and swallowing them. Sloppy and fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, each trying to dominate the other. Till air becomes needed and you break apart gasping for breath. “You sure?” Worry creasing his brow, chocolate eyes filling with uncertainty as he looks at you.

Brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek, leaning up to place your lips over his, “I’m positive Frankie I want to give Isabella a brother or sister to play with.”

Moving off you, hearing the whimper you make, “Don’t move baby I’m not going far.” Reaching for his jeans a nervous smile sliding over his face as he pulls the little black velvet box from the denim. Pausing to flip the lid staring at the chocolate diamond for a moment, till he feels you move soft hand coming to rest on his back.

“Frankie?” Undertone of worry in your voice as you raise up on your knees waiting for him to turn and face you. Bottom lip caught between worrying teeth, fearful that you’ve said the wrong thing. Pushed him too far with the baby comments, Santi’s words coming back to you about marriage and asking Frankie first. Before thinking things through fully the words fall from your lips, “Marry me Morales?”

“What?” Shock coloring his gasp, turning quickly to stare down at you. Swallowing hard, “What did you just ask me?” Trying to keep the box fisted in his hand so you can’t see it yet.

Knowing there’s no reason for these feelings and thoughts to flow through your mind but his quick movements and no real answer causes the doubt to creep in. Eyes downcast not wanting to see the rejection in those chocolate pools you love so much. “I… I… I mean you don’t have to answer it’s just a silly question. I just thought,” biting you lip to keep the tears from slipping out of there ducts.

“What silly question amor?” Fighting the urge to tip your chin up to see your beautiful face. Frankie waits and when you don’t answer he opens his fist in front of you. Flipping the box open, “You mean this question mi vida?”

Gasping, eyes landing on the beautiful ring nestled into the plush black velvet, “Frankie?” Hands coming up to cover your mouth as tears slip free though they’ve changed to happiness as you stare up at him.

“I wanted to ask you differently baby really I wanted to try something a little more romantic. Maybe candles and dinner, down the on one knee” rubbing the back of his neck scrambling for the right words.

“You mean,” hiccuping as a bright smile tugs your lip. “You didn’t plan on proposing to me naked right after we made love?”

Rolling his eyes at your snark, free hand coming over to brush your tears away and cupping your cheek, breath catching when you place your own hand on top. Nuzzling the palm and placing a kiss to the center, “You deserve better, something special, flowers and chocolates and music playing. Not us naked…”

Watery happy smile, placing your other hand over his mouth a moment, “Crap I don’t need Frankie I only want you and Isabella, you’re my life.” Taking a deep breath, scooting closer on your knees till your just a hairs breath away from him, “Yes.”

“I haven’t asked you yet woman you can’t… wait what?” Chocolate eyes shocked wide by that simple little word. He’d hoped you’d say yes, dreamed of it from the moment he fell in love with you. But to hear you say yes still stole his breath and any other words he’d planned to say.

Soft giggles leave your lips, dropping your eyes down to the ring box in his hand and back up to his. Wrapping your arm around his neck to pull his forehead down to yours, carding through the short curls at the back of his head. “Then you better ask me flyboy so you can make an honest woman out of me in case you’ve knocked me up.”

“God sweetheart,” eyes slipping closed for a moment just breathing in your scent and warmth, savoring you, for a few heart beats, until he finally gather’s his wits. “Marry me amor, become my wife mother to Isabella and as many more child’s as you want. I don’t want to live this life without you beside me, please marry me,” whispering he last three words. Heart thumping wildly, fearful it’s all a dream and he’ll wake up back in that rehab with no proper out look for his life.

“Yes Fransisco, yes I’ll marry you, I love you baby. Though,” watching his eyes open to stare back, so many emotions filtering through those beautiful eyes. “I’m not giving birth to five children I’ll leave at least two for you to push out of your dick.”

Gruff laughter leaves his lips, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, crashing your lips together in a hard, desperate kiss. Ring forgotten till it slips from his fingers in a bid to cup your ass and press you closer.

“We can have as many children as you want amor,” unwrapping his arms to bring the box back to show you. Plucking the band from its snuggled confines. He grasps your left hand bringing it to his lips and kissing the ring finger. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while slipping it on your fourth digit, before dropping to look. “Prefect fit.”

“Just like us,” leaning in to brush your lips over Frankie’s. Smirk gracing your features, “Remember we already have four kids and Isabella’s the mature one.”

Deep happy laughter leaves Frankie’s chest, arms going back around your waist to haul you against his body. Properly sitting with his back against the couch, cradling you in his arms, playful smile on his lips, “Shame that three of them still need house broken.”

“Frankie,” your laughter joining his as you straddle his thighs settling in his lap. Letting your mirth simmer while looking at your ring, still unable to believe you’re gonna be married. “Pinch me,” soft yelp leaves you, trying to summon a glare to direct his way but failing miserably.

“What you asked me to pinch you cariño,” soothing the pain he gave to your ass with the palm of his hand, cupping both generous globes to pull your pelvis flush with his. “Don’t worry I’ll kiss and make it all better baby unless you want something different.” Remembering the way you curved into his hand when he spanked you earlier. The memory of how tightly your quivering cunt gripped his cock, makes a moan leave his lips. Cock throbbing against your slick folds, demanding attention from the moment you straddled his thighs.

Experimentally smacking your ass feeling you quake against him, breath hitching in your throat chocking off a moan. “Frankie,” rocking your hips against his growing shaft. Feeling his fingers dip between your folds finding you soaked and throbbing.

“Like that don’t you baby, like when I smack this beautiful ass of yours,” low growl leaving his lips that attack your neck. Drawing another whimper of need from deep with in your body. “I know you do, can feel it you’ve soaked my fingers and I’ve barely touched you.”

Rubbing your nose against his neck breathing in his scent mixed with the heady scent of sex and sweat. Amazed how he’s flipped from the sweet Frankie to sexual beast mode in seconds. “Don’t tease handsome please,” whimpering, all thought leaving your mind except for the way Frankie’s talented fingers feel. Strumming your body like a master to drag out moans and whines of pleasure.

“As you wish amor,” slipping inside of you slowly, gritting his teeth at the tight squeeze of your walls. “I’m warning you now we’re not getting any sleep tonight baby. I’m gonna have you on every surface of this house I can.”

Smirking, “Promises, promises Morales,” pulling back to stare into his molten chocolate eyes. “Actions,” gasping when he pulls half way out and thrusts back home. Hitting your g-spot, his pelvis moving to rub against your clit deliciously making stars shoot across your vision. Trying to form the rest of the words to tease him, “Speak louder than,” soft scream leaving when he dips to the side rolling the two of you so he’s hovering over you.

Grasping your thighs to push them against your chest, pushing his cock ever deeper inside your depths. Eyes rolling back missing the smirk on his plush lips, “You’re saying amor?” Wedging his upper body between your thighs, legs draped over his shoulders, his knees braced apart for stability. Hovering over you with hands gripping your ass to lift a fraction off the ground and start a punishing pace.

Making good on that truth, neither of you getting much rest that night. Finally eating dinner around mid-night, thankful that Frankie had turned the oven off earlier in the evening. Rewarding him for his thoughtfulness with a blowjob at the dinner table, making good use of the Reddi-whip. In turn Frankie snatched up what was left of the pie having a second helping of his dessert, with you spread out over the kitchen table.

Reliving that moment in your mind you don’t hear the question Santi asks. Only breaking out of the smirk causing memory when Frankie places his hand on your thigh giving a squeeze. Looking from him back to Santi, “Hmm,” clearing your throat with a sip of coffee. “I’m sorry Pope what did you ask?”

Chuckling, “Off daydreaming again cariño, hope it’s as good as the smirk on your face.” Lifting a dark brow, Pope watches you for a moment catching the subtle shift of your body, Frankie’s cheeks dusting red. Guessing the two of you spent much of the night and early morning celebrating. If the marks littering the both of you indication anything accompanied by the way your both leaning against each other.

Thankful he called before driving over with Isabella and eager to hear weather you said yes. Though he knew better than anyone the answer which becomes confirmed while you hugging Will, chocolate diamond glinting in the sunlight filtering through the front door. After a round of hugs, claps on the back and congratulations along with very happy giggles from Isabella everyone settled in the kitchen for coffee.

Drawing your thoughts back from this morning smirk only growing on your face, Frankie leans over, seeing the intent in your side profile, “Don’t do it hermosa.” Warning growl in his tone, hand still on your thigh giving a harder squeeze. Isabella’s little giggles the only answer he receives to the warning, wrapped in her mother’s arms and oblivious to everything except playing with your hair.

“Well Santiago if you must know it’s even better,” chuckling evilly when Frankie groans head landing on your shoulder. Blindly reaching over to cover Isabella’s ears. “Just reliving late last night when Frankie got to have his second dessert.”

Confused for a second, eyes widening comically as he looks from you to the table place he’s currently sitting at and back. “Your telling me,” words sputtering out as he pushes violently backward, chair scratching across the tiled floor. “You could’ve warned a guy Y/N,” shaking his head in part disgust and part amusement. “Tell me you at least disinfected it before we sat down?”

Shrugging, “Where’s the fun in that Pope, besides it’s only fair after all Frankie got to see the stars right there in that chair first.” Licking your lips glancing at both Will and Benny who haven’t caught on yet. The harsh crash of his chair makes you bust out laughing, holding onto the table for support and cleaving into Frankie who’s red as a tomato.

“That’s just… fucking hell,” wiping at this ass and thighs like there’s something there.

Confused till he looked between the two of you, the table and Santiago. Deep groan leaving his lips as he head comes down to rest in his hands, “We eat on this table now it has to be burned.”

“What? Why?” Thinking for a second, comprehension clicking into place Benny jumps up scrubbing his hands along his pant legs. “That’s just wrong so fucking wrong now I have that in may head to. I take back the marriage proposal Y/N, Frankie can have you.” Though the grin on his lips speaks differently. It however doesn’t reach his normally expressive eyes. Hiding a secret he’s kept buried for far to long knowing now there’s no chance of it coming to the light of day.

“How generous of you Benjamin,” playfully rolling your eyes, giggling when you look at Frankie seeing his eyes have narrowed on his friend. You lean over, ��No worries flyboy you know you’re the only one.”

Chuckling he places a kiss to your cheek giving you a wink, “I know.” Standing to round the table, “So you proposed to my girl huh?” Trying to infuse a touch of anger to his tone that fails miserably with the grin on his lips. “Dude what happened to the code of friendship huh?”

Stepping back, hands up in mock surrender, playful grin o his chapped lips. “You know I didn’t mean it like that Fish, Y/N’s a sister to me.” Words tasting and sounding bitter to his own ears. Looking too Will and Santi for help, finding none except fake disapproving frowns, arms crossed. Glancing at you and Isabella with a pleading look getting no help.

“Shit,” little voice speaking into the silence every set of adult eyes land on her, giggling follows with little claps of her hands before burying her face in your chest shyly.

Peels of laughter ring out around the kitchen Will beating the table with his fist, head hanging with broad shoulders twitching. Benny and Frankie leaning on each other as tears of mirth slip down their cheeks, Pope leaning against the island to stay standing up right his own body shaking in laughter. While you hold her close laughing, shaking your head at the sight of your family. “Your daddy and uncles are silly little one,” kissing her forehead locking eyes with Frankie when he turns to you. Seeing the love saturating those chocolate eyes, soft grin pulling at his lips.

“I love you mi alma’s,” playfully pushing Benny from his shoulder to come around and kiss both your foreheads.

Reaching up to cup his cheek, bringing him down to touch your lips together in a tender kiss, “I love you to my real soon to be husband.”

Sure you still read get carried away into another world of your books. However, not so deeply that you neglect your husband’s needs and wants along with your own. Besides you know he’s so much better than any old book boyfriend.

THE END

#Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales x Plus Size Female Reader #Triple Frontier #Frankie Morales x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x Plus Size F!Reader #Female Reader

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spasmsofthought · 4 years ago

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find me a way (i’ll be yours in a landslide) [pietro maximoff x reader]

I love Pietro and I miss him so so so much. He is the best. I hope you enjoy what has been running through my mind today and a little bit of a different writing perspective.

Inspiration for the title (and what I was listening to while writing this) goes to the song State Lines by Novo Amor.

Let me know what you think! xo

TW: Death, grief, violence (?).

Word Count: A little over 2.4k

+ + +

You and Pietro aren’t friends.

At least, not at the beginning.

He had this sort of roguish charm, and as the one who always followed the rules, there’s a certain danger to his very presence you detect the first time you see him. You have always walked the straightest line, valued for being good, and discovering your own powers turns that dial to 11 even before you find yourself with The Avengers.

A’s in school and curse words that never leave your lips, and your previous co-workers had only good things to say. And when the news talks about you, when they find a second to recognize you, it’s only ever about how perfectly suited you are to be an Avenger, doing good and bringing justice and seeking the peace of all. It is all they know you for: the good you do. And then you fade into the background once again, like a shiny trophy on a shelf only brought out to relive the glory days.

When he starts to live at the compound with his sister, after the Battle of Sokovia, he sees the way you look at him. All wary and standoffish and hesitant. He knows, for some reason, that you don’t look at his sister like you do him. No, you sit with her and eat with her and there are times you laugh together at the dinner table. But with him, well, he’s lucky if he can get a word in edgewise with you. It makes him think that you classify him as an enemy, and if not that, then someone you clearly want to keep your distance from.

But it’s not that clearly defined for you. It takes time for you to even be remotely comfortable around someone who clearly enjoys sparking mischief and making trouble. He has no problem questioning authority and going against orders; he does what he wants. And for someone who has always had this golden star on their forehead, and taught never to make company with troublemakers because it would only cause grief in the end for you, there’s an underlying reluctance to be around him at all due to the complex nature of his shift from bad guy to good guy.

When he and Wanda open up about their Hydra experimentation with the whole team, though, that’s when the first crack starts to form. The empathy you have always felt for Wanda, well, it starts to extend to Pietro too. Because you know that no one should be subject to such an experience, even if they volunteered for it. There is something in his eyes that makes him older than he appears, and there are lines by his eyes that tell you of his sorrow, of his anger.

Your reluctance diminishes over the week and when he happens upon you and his sister in her room on Sunday evening, and invites himself inside, you don’t leave and you don’t close off. You two openly discuss your varying exposure to sitcoms as children and there is something that lights in his eyes, too.

And it is the first time you listen to him with your eyes, not just your ears.

The friendship you extend to him after weeks of Wanda’s hints and outright suggestions to you begins on rocky grounds. Because you and Pietro are inherent opposites, and while you are mostly black and white, he is all gray.

The difference in beliefs and values leads to frequent, and heated, debates when the two of you aren’t training or trying to save the world again. The whole team enjoys watching them, whether outright from the kitchen or secretly listening in a shadowed hallway, whispering and smirking and betting who will will this one. They are always exchanging money in hands, especially when it is you that wins the round.

He gets you, though, one evening as you two sit on opposite ends of the same couch in the open common area of the Avenger compound. It’s been a slow week and leaves much free time for you to discuss all of your differing beliefs. It is passionate and spirited, but this one is also personal. War makes it so, and the twining of both of your experiences cannot make the conversation as objective as others have been. “Rules exist for a reason Pietro!” “I didn’t have the luxury of following the rules when my life was in danger, my parents were dead, and my country was little more than rubble.”

It is fast and quick as usual, but there is a hardness in his face that you have never seen before. A glint in his eyes that tells you he sometimes wishes he lived in a world where following the rules meant living in peace, meant a better future for everyone; where it meant one was doing the right thing, the good thing.

There is a pause that you have to take, because your country still exists the same way, and there is not a giant crater in the ground where an entire city used to be. And it did not suffer from war the ways his did. And your parents were not killed by bombs manufactured by a man with power and wealth and unlimited resources. And it turns out you may be wrong this time and it turns out it’s true that he had been trying to do the right thing the whole time he was on the opposite side of you.

Now you are on the same side and that forces a change in perspective. You are forced to not stay the same.

“You’re right,” You admit and the words are soft.

Maybe rules are a luxury for people like you who can always choose to follow them; and maybe following the rules doesn’t necessarily mean you are the right one. His eyes connect with yours and there is something that happens, an understanding that forms.

Something ties together and the knot cannot be untangled. A string tethers you to each other, somehow, someway, in that moment.

The conversations don’t end there, they never do, but he notices that you bend for the first time that night. Usually you’re as stiff as a board, planting your roots deep and refusing to move. But this time, well, this time your hands open a bit instead of clenching and your knuckles aren’t white.

It takes some more time, and a little help from Wanda, but both of you smile more and the conversation turns less into a debate the more you spend in each other’s presence. Empathy exudes from you, and now it’s less about being right and more about trying to put yourself in his shoes. To see through his eyes instead of your own. You bend for him more, growing less afraid to no longer put your value in being seen as good, and he takes stock of his own beliefs and he learns from you, too. And he’s not a jackass about it.

(Clint saw it coming from day one, though he certainly expected it to take longer. Maybe he’s getting old and that’s it. But, there’s something about the two of you that he knew would click together. He watched you both from the kitchen when he was at the compound, and in training, and he saw the puzzle pieces. He knows you well, has for years, and Pietro’s the kind of person you need, though he would never admit it to you outright. He’s a dad and so he can see these things coming from miles away. Laura is going to be intrigued to hear about this when he tells her.)

And you curse for the very first time when he kisses you, pressed softly against the wall near your door.

He moves so quick it comes as a surprise to your very slow (normal) senses, but the tension has been building for months. Months of his flirting that have been flying over your head or have just left you confused.

He touches you more, now that both of you are growing more comfortable with each other. A hand cupping your elbow when he grazes by, a soft brush against the small of your back when he’s behind you as the team gathers together for a meeting or to train together. A light touch to your shoulder when he is about to whisper in your ear. A tender hug when you both have survived another day where his hands come to the back of your head and he holds you against himself for a moment or two. A kiss to the cheek when he can sneak it in and you’re not paying enough attention.

It is in those moments where you truly understand what safety feels like.

Nobody explains the flirting, or anything else, to you, though, so you brush it away and smile innocently back at him. It kills him, every time. Wanda is just glad you’re making him subconsciously work for it, earn it; making him be worthy of you.

And it is a year after the day where you officially met each other when he follows you to your room after a solid day of training and playing a board game at the dining table with him and Wanda after dinner is done.

You are laughing at something he said, and what happened when he lost, and he can’t resist but softly steering you to the wall. You go quiet, a little startled, and he can see your eyebrows furrow. He leans in and you can hear him ask under his breath if he can kiss you. You are barely finished nodding your consent when he does.

Being a teenager, and then young adult, that had discovered and then wielded weird powers didn’t leave much room to have a significant other who could put up with your schedule and wack powers which interfered with your ever day life. Joining the Avengers left you with even less time to date.

So, when Pietro kisses you, it’s your first kiss.

And you think it might maybe somehow be spectacular.

And whatever it is, it’s different and glorious and it almost overwhelms you and that is when “Shit” slips out from your mouth when you are able to catch your breath. Because you just want more of this, and more of him; more of all of whatever this is becoming. It’s like this feeling drops into the pit of your stomach and sinks deeper, weighing you down with some sort of longing, maybe, or a desire that has been unnoticed and unfulfilled until now. He has always been a contrasting force to you, but now he just seems irresistible. Like a polar opposite magnet that you can’t help but be pulled to: the north to your south.

The curse is said almost under your breath, a whisper that you can’t hold in, but Pietro hears it. His mouth slips into a grin, teetering more to one side of his face than the other. He is handsome in that moment, and oh so irresistible. His eyes sparkle with a sort of pride, glimmering with a deep satisfaction, and you can tell he’s a bit cocky about the effect he clearly has on you, even though you deny it. You think maybe he is banking on his promise to corrupt you, even just a little bit. He presses his forehead to yours and releases a breathy chuckle.

“I have been waiting--”

Before he can finish his sentence, before he can say anything else, you press your lips to his. He sort of smiles into it for a second, but then there’s a shift, as quick as you could blink if your eyes were open, and it’s intense suddenly. All-consuming. There is a sureness with him, a substance you hadn’t been expecting when you first caught a glimpse of him.

Your hands gravitate towards his hair, his towards your face, tilting just slightly. And then his hands are flying to the back of your head, and then one down your arm and to your waist.

This is my reality, you think happily, the inside of you turning into butterflies and pure giddiness. He presses you against the wall and you press yourself against him, desperate for just a little more, a lot more--

and you wake up.

No, no, no, no, the word runs a loop in your head. Not again.

The image of his body hitting the pavement, the sound of gun fire ringing through your ears, is what you are immediately awoken to as you are torn from sleep yet again. He has been dead. He is dead. And it is not a reminder you need yet again, because you barely knew him. And all of this is in your head.

Your eyes open to the breaking dawn you see out your window.

The sheets on your bed are the same they were a year ago.

And you stare out the window for a second, trying to breathe, your mind recollecting everything, and then the tears come. Your arm comes across your face as you involuntary release a sob. Another gets caught in your throat and you are nauseous to your core.

You gather your face in your palms as you move to sit up, and you just cry. Your hair hangs around you, not having been washed in days, and your muscles are sore. Your heart cries out for some sort of relief, but there is nothing anyone can do for it, not even you. The sobs don’t stop for half an hour.

You don’t tell Wanda about it. You never do. You can barely bear it yourself.

You try not to spend much time dwelling on it when you finally get out of bed that morning, but there are some times when you like to imagine things differently. When you wonder what it would have been like if fate had intervened, or some sort of mercy had been given; you give yourself a glimpse of a different future.

And when you actually allow yourself the time to sit there after you wake up, every once and a while, you usually can picture it all almost as clear as day, the sun shining. There are no clouds in the sky, not a drop of rain. The whole world seems right and perfect and complete before it shatters in front of your very eyes and it all turns to dust.

Grief has taught you that you will always wake up alone and that dreams always remain dreams. And this one will never come true.

+++

“The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you'll never have.” — Søren Kierkegaard

#pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x oc #pietro maximoff x y/n #pireto maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff reader insert #pietro maximoff preference #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver reader insert #quicksilver preference

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lunar-lair · 3 years ago

Text

ok say hello to my insanely new oc who ive made entirely to be a villain who is still an excellent adult and a decent parent, probably. cares too much abt kids. think reigen mob psycho with a drop or two of milla. worked under Nick From The Mailroom and was actually in on his scheme.

has always been rather cold and brash towards adults, but is more caring towards kids. in my brain he has a brooklyn type accent? rough and tumble, walks around without a tie, yknow? they keep him cause he sorts mail real good, though.

(added a read more because this got INSANELY LONG AKSKSK i spent like an hr on this h)

he was a delugeionist, but only because he kinda just wanted to rip the world apart a little; lysandre vibes, thinks a lot of it is scum and needs to go. thinks the *psychonauts* are scum and need to go. hes psychic but suppressed it, think aquato parents but extra toxic about it, and straight up just saying being psychic is unnatural. wouldnt go to loboto parent lengths tho. so he adopted that thought of 'being psychic is unnatural and wrong', which contributed to a lot of self hate that was never learned out. likely, he realizes hes a shitty person and thinks he needs to go too. so like...yknow hank, dbh? kinda the vibe im gettin right now. way more formal, of course, and while usually gruff, is more polite when its needed; can and *will* beat the shit out of you verbally in a factual way, though, and can talk more street-lingo if hes talkin to real thugs. (probably winged it on his own after failing college or smth, hes got the vibes.)

anyways, its this plot where he slinks off and starts planting mistrust in the psychonauts or something. and inevitably he just...shows up and starts kidnapping people. dismantling things from the inside and all that. he left and formed a group who also hated psychics at some point, likely friends of his parents and friends of friends, all from his hometown. all of them fight *insanely* dirty, and a lot of them are insanely vulgar. the kids are supposed to be kept away.

but theres a line to follow here.

this man is a fold to raz. hates the psychonauts, hates being psychic, adopted his parent's hate of psychics, hates the *world.* raz is young and unburdened and unjaded...mostly. hes not the shock of water some young characters can be when it comes to being the foils of other characters; think steven with a villain or something, right? but raz is sassy and a little jaded, and not total sunshine positivity.

hes a child this man could look down on and not be immediately annoyed by, who is worried by yet respects raz's realization of the world as it is, however little that is.

and yet raz is still his foil. he still mostly loves the psychonauts, despite it all, he loves being psychic, for the most part, he dodged adopting his parents previous values, he still seems to have an even view of the world as a whole.

raz is jaded, if only a little, but he moved past it and accepted that things could still be bright. this man is jaded, but he stayed in his stormclouds, never looked for the sun.

ok where. was i. RIGHT ok so. at the beginning of this...story? the man finds raz being talked down to by one of the office workers; someone with weak psychic powers whos insanely jealous of his prowess. an adult who envies the young prodigy. and theyre giving him some insane task to do, like cleaning all of the closets within the hour, but hes saved the world twice, so he smiles and nods along, because he said he would help around the motherlobe, and this adult is asking him to do something that seems simple enough.

and this guy, internally, goes 'bitch.' for a good long second bc 1. dude even if you envy a kid, kinda fucked to show that?? not their fault 2. WHY are you asking a 10 year old to do that. why is there a 10 year old here. holy shit thats a 10 year old oh my god hes so tiny (no one told him there was a 10 year old because they knew hed stomp right up to management but. regardless. he is going to stomp up to management after this and no one can really stop him. except maybe raz well see)

so yknow. dude fixes his slight slouch and walks forward and politely tells this woman that 1. hes 10 why are you jealous of him and 2. hes 10????????? and shes like shit hes 10. and apologizes. and walks away

and raz is VERY ?? bc she was doing what? why is him being 10 important? and its that young part of you that gets pissed when people try to keep you from doing things because youre young and hes DEFINITELY yet to learn that piling responsibilites that should be handled by adults onto a child is fucked up in its own special way (looking at you ford, *nick*)

and the dude calmly explains because yea. he gets that. and he still sounds gruff and a little peeved but he squats down to razs height and he talks simply and factually, telling him straight on why it isnt right.

and. huh. people dont really do that for raz. except for sasha, sometimes, everyone likes to dodge the truth a lot with him, because hes 10, and sometimes, hes too nice to tug it out of them.

and this guy, this man that raz is already polishing a trophy for 'good adulting' in the back of his brain with his striking statements about how adults should handle things and kids should-kids should...get to have fun. not be traumatized.

for the shock on his face when raz said hed already saved the world a couple times, whats some closets. he reigned it in, said that its weird he saved the world, because thats usually their jobs.

and this guy offers his hand on instict before he stands up, even though he doesnt seem very sweet and kind like the adults that usually offer raz a hand. and he takes it, i think. he takes it.

warm. warm, a little nice.

reminds raz of his dad, maybe. he wonders if this man has any kids himself, but keeps his mouth shut, because he thinks he already has the answer, and its yes.

(he doesnt have any. he would wish he did, but he knows hed fail to raise them right.)

and when he stands, he asks raz what he was asking that woman for, and he says hes doing tasks around the motherlobe because his papers are still coming in. the man doesnt ask. (he knows what 'papers' means, realizes this is the tiny junior psychonaut every room in the damn place has been buzzing about, and he has fucking words for forsythe.) he just offers for the kid to sort mail under his supervision.

and that sounds boring. at least, it usually would.

this man is interesting, and a good...person? a good adult? hes...hes new. hes new, and calm, and a little like sasha but a lot not, and he thinks he trusts him.

so raz grins and says yea, mail sorting sounds nice.

(debatably, raz does not take his hand. hes too jaded when it comes to adults. debatably, he does not feel any warmth from this man who has taught him every adult has been telling him wrong. debatably, im projecting. but thats the whole point of ocs, hm?)

and then holes crop up in motherlobe systems. people are kidnapped.

raz keeps seeing the strange man, keeps telling him things, keeps hearing back, gruff and factual and a little annoyed, but raz can almost-just-barely tell its not at him, with the way he talks.

he can tell. he can tell.

he can never tell. this man is making sure he can tell.

raz trusts the man, is still polishing that trophy for 'best adulting' he has settling in the back of his mind.

and then the man comes with a militia.

he did not seem jaded. he did not seem hateful. he never showed any anger or hate towards raz.

but thats because he knows kids dont deserve it.

an excellent moral or two. a rotten, broken heart.

and at first, they keep the kids away, because these people fight dirty, because this isnt their battle, because the man has been sending emails about why 15 year olds are in a secret psychic agency.

(he does not mention raz. by razs second visit, he had just marked the boy down as another reason to hate the psychonauts as a whole, and especially its higher ups.

hes also regretting his alliance to nick by about the third. if he had known the man would puppet a child as if they were a toy, he would have organized his own rebellion ages ago.)

but eventually, the psychonauts need all hands on deck.

they send the children to find the missing agents.

the interns are fought on the way. some of them avoid the child, know the boss would pummel them.

they get to the base, and the strange man, the one with the broken trophy for 'best adult' (still barely-polished, because hes still so sure) still nestled in the back of razs brain, is still there.

the junior psychonauts are spotted. one of the guards throws a few rocks aimlessly.

they surprise them. one almost hits raz.

its intercepted instead.

and the other junior psychonauts watch as this man, their enemy, a villain, in their eyes, reprimands the other man for even accidentally daring, for even trying. for doing something they might have done just a month or so ago, if they had decided he was too much weirder than they already had.

and he yells something like, "Why the hell is he even here?! This is an enemy base, of whats a rebellion! This is a *10 year old*! What kind of adult sends a child *near* something like that?!" and he truly sounds angry this time, raz finds. hes too angry to keep it in. he still sounds gruff and oddly proper. raz is standing there, arms hanging. hes baffled in a specific way, the way he was every time the man's brow furrowed when he mentioned a harrowing story, the way he was the first day they met.

and he asks, a little quiet, a little small, a reminder of how young he really is, "Why are you still trying to keep me safe? We're supposed to be enemies now."

And his brow furrows further before flattening out, and he tilts onto one leg, and he swears he almost kneels to a knee.

He cant believe it. He really cant.

"You're 10." he says simply, softly, that factual way. "You shouldn't even be here."

and raz pauses. the interns freeze.

"...well, here I am."

and i think...it would be so intriguing if this was done halfway out of the mind, because this man is so against anything psychic. it would be so *compelling.*

so raz steps forward and asks again, asks why hes doing this.

and the mans eyes harden, he tries to turn off that soft heart, trying to remind himself of all that he hates. because he hates the psychonauts, because he sort of hates the world.

and raz asks why he could ever hate the psychonauts, head tilted, before listing off the few he knows to be true. but other than that, how? and ok, the world sucks a little, yea, hes seen that, gets that.

and he appreciates that this kid isnt totally gung ho about existence.

but he hates that he isnt, too.

and its this back and forth. everything the man hates, why he hates it. raz saying why its good but admitting why its bad.

and hes swayed, just a little.

but the man stands up from the kneel hed inevitably instinctively put himself into, and walks forward, hand held out yet again.

"You shouldn't be in the Psychonauts," he tells him, soft, factual, brow furrowed. "Come with me. I'll bring you back to your parents, or wherever it is you want to go."

raz contemplates. thinks, for a long moment.

he grabs the mans hand, warm and firm, yet again, for a terrifying moment.

before he reaches up to slap a mental door on his forehead, and astral projects into it.

he thinks this man is good. thinks hes just jaded.

thinks hes the best adult hes ever met, one who just happens to hate a lot of things.

hes only 10.

hes not letting someone who can tell him so clearly whats wrong and right for adults to tell him go that easily.

aaaand yknow. raz does his razzy thing. learns about why the guy hates the world and the psychonauts and himself. helps him learn that its not all bad, that he was excellent to raz, and still is, that things can be bad and good all at once.

the man concedes that raz is very capable, very smart, and can do a lot. but that doesnt mean he should have to.

raz tells him, though, that he likes working for the psychonauts. its his dream. and he realizes some things he was told to do were kinda screwed up, now. that maybe, in honesty, he was dealt a bad hand.

but hes done what he can with that hand, and he ended up with a royal flush.

and uh! yknow!! then raz leaves his mind and he calls off the rebellion! its like a rhombus of ruin type adventure, except without the villain being present beforehand. its just not clustered in insanely close with a ton of other wild shit.

anyways this got really long? sorry?? its an oc i just saw good adult and slight father vibe potential in the vibe i instantly got on him and then i went feral???? rip maybe someone will read this and if you did. congrats i honestly really liked how the whole foil and good-yet-bad and consideration of raz being 10 thing worked out. this oc is almost like our representative in the psychonauts world the way reigen is for the audience in mp100. yea :) i match them up a lot but thats just cause they vibe a lot. anyways its 1:40 am now and i spent abt an hour on this hope it vibed mildly byeeee

#GOD THAT GOT LONG. ALSMSKKS APOLOGIES OH MH GOD #psychonauts #psychonauts oc #and my personal tag:#pn oc #trash talks #long post #like! insanely long!!!!!!! i am so so sorry maybe i should make a cut #psychonauts 2 spoilers #like a lot tbh alskssk #OK READMORE SUCCESSFULLY ADDED!!! THNX GOOGLE <3

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bi-writes · 5 years ago

Note

Medieval fantasy AU with prince Tom plsssss 😍😍😍

ooooooh here we go down this rabbit hole lmao

The corset of your dress was so tight, you could barely breathe properly. You refused to wear them in your own home. They made you uncomfortable, and you weren’t able to mount your horse properly. They made you stiff and proper, and you hated being stiff and proper. But your mother had begged you, and you gave in.

You were happy to do it for her until she forced a new dress on you and put you in her best jewels. Emeralds on your neck, rubies in your ears, and diamonds littering your tiara and making it sparkle unimaginably. She was powdering you up for the party, and you hated feeling like a trophy to be passed around. But how could you protest when...you weren’t allowed to even have an opinion?

You were on your mother’s arm when you entered the large hall. The ceilings were high, tens of feet tall, and the chandeliers were glowing with lit candles, casting a gorgeous light on the party below. There was music and tables full of food, trays of wine never going empty. You saw chocolate and sweets, and then you saw everyone staring. Of course they were staring. You were a princess, unwed, polished like a golden trophy for all of them to gawk at. Lords staring at you to see if you were fit for their sons, and men staring at you to see if you were fit for their households. It was insulting, but your mother tugged you along anyways.

You grabbed a handful of sweets, popping them into your mouth before your mother could see. She let you go to get a few glasses of wine, and that was your cue. You ripped your tiara off and hid beside a server as you followed them into the kitchen. You greeted the staff warmly before going out the back, into the stables. You were going for your horse, that beautiful black horse that stood at the back of the stables. You hurried, picking up your skirt and running, and thats when you bumped chest first into someone else, both of you falling backwards onto the floor.

“Oh, Christ!” The other person swore, sitting up, rubbing their chest. “Oh! Oh, my lady—”

You let out a breath as you were picked up off the floor quickly, put onto your feet. You were dizzy for a moment having hit the ground so fast and so forcefully.

“N-No, it’s...it’s all my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you said after a minute, putting a hand on your head. You blinked, trying to focus, and you swallowed hard when you noticed the man in front of you. He was wear a simple dress shirt and trousers, tucked into his riding boots.

“Getting away from the party so quickly? I hear it’s grand,” he tried to lighten the mood, and you sighed, rolling your eyes a bit.

“Grand for who?”

“The princess, of course, is this party not for her? The invitation said all eligible noblemen were to attend this evening,” he chuckled, and you picked up your crown, hiding it as you went to the back, towards your horse, towards Eve. You tossed your crown into the hay, putting both hands on her and petting her warmly.

“Of course it did,” you muttered. “The queen is adamant on her daughter finding a husband. But...it doesn’t even matter. I don’t know why she pushes so much. Don’t you think a woman should be allowed a few years to herself before she even begins thinking about uprooting her life and starting a family?”

He laughed behind you, shrugging, “I...I suppose a woman should be entitled to that. But...they aren’t.”

“No, I suppose not,” you replied with a hard tone. “But they should be. You can’t even be pardoned of that burden as royalty. It’s as if all a woman is good for is marriage. They teach us to dance and to sing and to paint and to curtsy and to...to sew. And for what? No one will want to watch us do any of those things. They don’t care.”

You laid your cheek against Eve, sighing deeply.

“In our lifetime, I suppose that is all a woman can do. But perhaps they can find men that make them feel otherwise.”

You turned your head to look at him, and he was blushing all over. His cheeks were red, his ears were red, and he was adorable, looking so flushed.

“You’re funny,” you said finally, laughing. “To think such things are possible.”

He came towards you, offering his hand. “I’m Thomas.”

“y/n.”

“Shall we...get away from this party? Go for a ride?”

You nodded slowly.

“I’d...I’d like that very much.”

He helped you onto your horse, his hand in yours as he lifted you up over Eve. You got comfortable on her back before clicking your tongue a bit, patting her to walk. Tom reached for his horse and followed you close behind. You took him on a small tour of the grounds, following the paths you walked everyday with Eve. You went through the gardens, around the lake, through the trees.

You didn’t ride in silence. Tom was quick to pick up conversation with you, and you were laughing, always. You bantered back and forth about who was the better rider, who could eat more chocolate tarts in two minutes, and the first time you both got drunk on old cellar wine. You were starting to get tired as he helped you off of Eve. You both sat on a bench near the edge of the lake, which was lit by torches all around. Your horses were tied behind both of you, relaxing.

“Do you think the princess is having fun then?” Tom asked after awhile, looking over at the castle in the near distance. “Surely. This whole...thing was for her.”

You looked in the same direction as him, watching the figures in the windows dance and eat and move around. You sighed.

“I don’t think the princess cares for parties all that much.”

“No?” Tom looked back at you. “What does she like then?”

You frowned, “why are you so interested?”

He bit his lip, “my father instructed me to come down here. He said I was to come, meet the princess, and give her my best. He talks too much. Of course I’d never catch the attention of the princess.”

“Oh? And why not?” You asked, sitting up, curious now.

“They say the princess is...the most beautiful woman in this country,” he murmured, turning back to look at you. You smiled a bit at him, and he smiled back, staring at you, intrigued. You looked lovely bathed in moonlight. “They say she has a sweet tooth, that she wears dresses made of silk always, and that she has a voice like a siren.”

You snorted a bit, “she sounds terrible!”

“What?!” Tom blushed, so embarrassed. “Is it so bad to secretly admire someone I’ve never met? To think that...in some alternate universe...a princess described such as that could ever be mine?”

You stared at him longingly, nudging his shoulder.

“Are you a nobleman? Looking to...rise in station by marrying a princess?”

Tom shrugged, “it isn’t like that,” he muttered. “It’s just...I’ve met many princesses. And I’ve been to a lot of countries, love. And they...they all have stories written of them such as that, but then when you meet them...” He closed his eyes. “I am disappointed when I meet them. Because they are not always sirens that sing and...and they are not always as sweet as others might tell you. Sometimes they mock others beneath them and rule with wicked hands. Sometimes they...sometimes they are cruel.”

“Women can be cruel,” you said softly. “They ought not to be, but sometimes they are. And it’s not always their fault.”

“No, it’s not always their fault,” he murmured. “Women with history...women with pasts...sometimes they are damaged here,” he touched where his heart is, “but sometimes it makes them better. They feel deeply. They love stronger. They speak wiser. My mother was like that.” He smiled a bit to himself. “That is the kind of woman I’d like to have. I suppose I’m just chasing stories until I find the right one.”

“What if you never do?”

“Then I suppose I will never marry.”

You looked out at the water, tucking your hands under your knees.

“Me neither,” you said softly. “I wish...I wish I could be the woman you dreamt of, Tom. I wish...perhaps tonight would have been that night for you.”

He nudged you a bit with his shoulder. “Aye, I wish that, too. Do you think I still have a chance with this princess then?”

You took a deep breath, shrugging. “I don’t know. Perhaps you should go find her inside.”

Tom stood up, nodding to himself. He picked up your hand and kissed it gently, and your stomach fluttered a bit.

“You deserve someone very special, Thomas,” you said sheepishly, smiling at him. “You’re...too kind for this world.”

“As are you, sweet y/n.” He leaned over and gave you a kiss on the cheek next. You watched him mount his horse and ride back to the stables. You stayed a little longer outside, looking out at the water. Thomas seemed lovely, lovelier than any prince your mother could throw your way. You refrained from kissing him, from pulling him close. If he was anyone else...if he was a lord or a nobleman...your mother wouldn’t approve.

But what did it matter? You were never traditional, anyway. What would it matter who you found yourself with? Didn’t you owe it to yourself to try?

You got onto Eve, pulling on the reigns so she could hurry back to the castle. You slipped off of her quickly, brushing your dress off as you looked for the crown that you threw in the hay. You started to panic when you couldn’t find it. Your mother gave it to you to borrow for the night, and you had thrown it like some cheap child’s toy into the hay.

“Looking for this, love?”

You turned abruptly, and Tom stood there, holding the glittering tiara in his hands. You blushed.

“Tom...I...I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Didn’t want me to know you were a princess?” He asked, raising a brow. “The princess? The princess of all the stories I’ve been hearing?”

You looked down, “What do you want me to say? I don’t...I don’t sing much. I’m not...I’m not the most beautiful woman in the country, and...and I don’t wear dresses made of silk. I’m just me, Thomas. And you’re...you’re you. Why would you want someone like me? I have no idea how to be the princess you said I was.”

He chuckled a bit, “you know, I did come all the way from England to meet you, Your Highness.”

“Please don’t call me that,” you sighed, coming closer to him. “Please call me y/n.”

He smiled down at you, “then don’t call me it either. We’ll have a truce.”

“What does that mean?”

“Formally, you should call me your highness, but I suppose I’ll let it slide for you, love,” he teased, and you pushed him a bit.

“Y-You’re...you’re the prince? The prince of England?”

“Aye, love, I am, but let’s not talk in detail, yeah?” He reached up to touch the side of your face with his knuckles, and you laughed.

“And you said nothing?”

“I didn’t want you to get a crude impression of me. I thought you were...”

“More humble?” You asked, touching the collar of his shirt. He nodded a bit, and you put your head on his chest.

“I like to be. I don’t care for theatrics, Thomas. I like the simple things,” you said, looking up at him. “Don’t you?”

“Oh, love...” he smiled wider. “I’ve been chasing after a story all my life. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just a woman on my arm as sweet as the stories they told about her...”

“And?”

He leaned in, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Tell me, darling...how long would I have to kiss you to find out?”

You broke into a giggle, “forever, I suppose.”

“Then I suppose that’s what I’ll do.”

#just wanted to write something soft dont come at me #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland fluff #prince!tom #requested

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wosofan14 · 4 years ago

Text

Jackie Groenen House Tour Interview - 22/10/20 (Rough English Translation) 

Little note - The format of the interview was a little weird. The interviewer guy was very random with what he said, so some things in the translation are very random. But other than that, the video was super interesting. Hope you enjoy the translation :)

 Interviewer: Welcome to a brand new episode of “Inside”, a show where we get an inside look into the houses of professional footballers, e-sports players, Youtubers etc... I’m very excited about today’s guest, as we get to go international on this episode. We are going all the way to Manchester, England to get an inside look in Jackie Groenen’s house.

*On screen text* Woonkamer = Living Room

Badkamer = Bathroom

Slaapkamer = Bedroom

Logeerkamer = Guest Bedroom

Balkan = Balcony

Interviewer: There is an Easter egg hidden in this video, so if you pay attention, then you can spot it, then you’ll have a chance to win some cool prizes. If you’re as excited as I am about this video, don’t forget to like this video and subscribe to the channel to not miss any cool videos. Hopefully after this video, there will be more people that will want to give house tours. Or not, I’d also understand if no one wanted to show me their house. Haha just joking. Now let’s ring the (imaginary) doorbell, or we can knock. Please ignore the huge headphones I am wearing.

Jackie: Hi Matthy (interviewer’s name) and viewers of this show. Welcome to the tour of my crib and welcome to Manchester!

Jackie: Come on inside, this is the hall. I can’t show you too much of the guest bedroom, as my dad is currently visiting. He is also currently filming this video and he’s filming for the first time, so don’t be too cruel on him.

Interviewer: I think your father is doing very well to be fair.

Jackie: Because of the current situation we are in, I’ve frequently had people sleep over and it’s been fun, as it’s meant that I haven’t been alone very often. Now here is my fantastic closet with, if I’m being honest, way too many clothes in it. And I see my father is already looking a little bored behind the camera, as this is his least favourite part.

Interviewer: Yes, I could hear him sigh deeply or take a deep breath behind the camera. You could also see him in the reflection of the closet.

Jackie: This is Mimo (it’s a cushion of a bunny) and he’s my best friend’s bunny. I’ve been able to take this cushion of with me so that I can always think about Mimo and Jenny because I miss them a lot when I’m here in Manchester. I also have a sweater here from training with Manchester United. As most of you will probably already know, I’ve always played with number 14 and I’m lucky enough to be able to play with that number here at Manchester United as well. That’s something I’m very proud of if I’m being honest. I’ve always been a huge fan of Johan Cruyff and I’m always very proud whenever I get to wear the number 14.

Interviewer: Very cool.

Jackie: Alright, here we have the first bathroom. I’ve never actually watched MTV Cribs before, so I don’t really know how people present their bathrooms to the camera.

Interviewer: I’ve never watched MTV Cribs either, but I can tell you that this is a very nice bathroom.

Jackie: People brush their teeth here.

Interviewer: (laughs). I hope that people brush their teeth in the bathroom. People at home, if you don’t brush your teeth, then start now!

Jackie: One of my favourite things about my apartment is obviously my bedroom.

Interviewer: If you have the same bed in your own bedroom as you do in your guest bedroom, then you know that the guests are really well cared for. That is really good to see. I’m adding points on for that!

Jackie: Another of my favourite things about my house is the view. At the moment, you can’t see too much because of the rain. That gives you a good idea about what the weather is like in Manchester.

Interviewer: I was just about to say, that’s typical in Manchester. The view is really pretty though.

Jackie: And here is my very very first guitar. I began playing on this guitar in Frankfurt. I take this guitar with me if I ever go with the girls to the park or somewhere like that. I’m still very careful with it though, as it’s my first ever guitar

Interviewer: I used to play guitar as well. The fact that you have the courage to play the guitar in front of a crowd of in public is very impressive and something I never would have done. I am intrigued though to know how long you’ve played the guitar for.

Jackie: Ummmm I think I’ve been playing the guitar for around 3 years, but I’ve only started taking it more seriously in the past 6 months or so with taking lessons. In Germany, I also had some lessons, but there weren’t very many of them. At the moment though, I play a lot and take a lot more lessons than I used to. I try to have 1-2 lessons every week and I try and play as much as I can before I go to bed so that I can keep improving. I’m still not very good, but I can play some songs. For example, if my dad is sitting on the couch in the evening, or if we are sitting by the heater, I always find it fun to then play a song on my guitar. Slowly but surely, I’m getting better and better at playing.

Interviewer: *says something about the Easter egg in the video and not wanting to spoil anything*

Jackie: Moving on, this is my record player. I’m obsessed with LPs and I find it lovely to put some music on in the evening before I go to bed. Because of my dad, most of my LPs are from the 70s and 80s.

Interviewer: *sees Black Stories in the cabinet* Black Stories is a fantastic game. It’s good to see that you play that game too. But LPs are old music aren’t they? I see and LP of the Beatles, which I like listening too as well. No modern music ever comes out on LPs though, so what do you listen to? Do you only listen to older music?

Jackie: There’s a bit of everything here. 80s music, Beatles, Queen, Jeff Buckley. My absolute favourite LP though is this one of Jim Croce. My dad first introduced me to his music and now I listen to it nonstop. I also love Fleetwood Mac, which is in the record player right now.

Interviewer: I think that most of the people watching this show will have never heard of Jim Croce. This type music is really not something I would enjoy listening to. But I do like that you have such a specific taste in music. You could have also listened to the Top 40 or Despacito.

Jackie: This is something that might be nice to show everyone. I feel like I don’t look at it enough, but I always enjoy holding it. This is the medal from when we became European Champions in 2017. I also have the silver medal from the World Cup in 2019 here where we got 2nd place and lost against the USA. Hopefully now everyone has forgotten about that though (laughs).

Interviewer: That’s still super cool though. A silver medal from the World Cup and a gold medal from the Euros is something that not many footballers can say they’ve achieved.

Jackie: Moving onto my nightstand, I have a picture of all my friends. One of my friends made this painting of us. She’s a very good artist. This is actually my friendgroup, and this painting reminds me of them a lot. And umm... (picks up book of crossword puzzles)

Interviewer: Yes! Zweedse Puzzelboekje (crossword puzzles). Those puzzles are so fun people!

Jackie: I know, I’m old (I guess because she likes doing those types of puzzles that makes her old).

Interviewer: If you’re old then I’m old too.

Jackie: Alright, on to the second bathroom. I think they call this an en-suite. Here is also a place where people brush their teeth.

Jackie: Alright, moving on again. Welcome to my living room/kitchen. This is the room where I study a lot. I also have my Player of the Match award from the World Cup semi-final game against Sweden.

Interviewer: A Player of the Match award is so cool to get, and especially in the semi-finals of a World Cup. It doesn’t even seem that much smaller than the trophy you’d get if you won the whole competition. Obviously they can’t give the big trophy to everyone though. That award is still super cool though.

Jackie: This is my most recent player of the match award from last Sunday from the game against Tottenham.

Interviewer: I think they have those awards in the Premier League for every game as well. Super cool that you have one of those.

Jackie: Someday I’ll make a nice decoration with all these Player of the Match awards.

Jackie: Welcome to my kitchen! I’ll give you guys a small look at what’s in my refrigerator. There’s not too many interesting things in here. I have some fruit and some yoghurt in my fridge.

Interviewer: I think I see some vanilla yoghurt or honey, one of those two things. There are lots of Dutch foods in the fridge though, which is good to see even if you’re in Manchester.

Jackie: Something that is more fun to tell you about is my guilty pleasure. I am obsessed with beschuit met muisjes (a sort of cake like thing with sprinkles - it’s a little hard to explain, so here’s a link to a picture: https://www.iamexpat.nl/lifestyle/lifestyle-news/strange-and-funny-dutch-traditions-beschuit-met-muisjes). I always have some beschuit and some muisjes here, as my dad always brings them for me from the Netherlands.

Interviewer: I assume that they don’t have De Ruijter (company that makes muisjes and hagelslag) in England, so it’s good to see that there’s still lots of Dutch foods in your kitchen in England.

 Jackie: On to the living room, and this is where I relax a lot. I lay on the couch a lot to recover after trainings. For me, this is the most comfy part of the house. I’m always ver relaxed here.

Interviewer: I see another guitar there.

Jackie: Now, this second guitar is one of my most prized possessions. I bought this right before the lockdown and I am really proud of this guitar. I try and play some songs on it as much as I can in the evening.

Interviewer: Now this is the third or fourth time that music has come up on this tour and the second or third time that the guitar has come up. I don’t know if I dare to ask you this, but Jackie, I think that you should play a little bit of a song for the viewers of the show and for me.

Jackie: Now, I don’t play very much on camera because I’m not very good yet.

*plays song and sings*

Interviewer: I did not expect this at all! Jackie can sing! You acted as if you were shy and didn’t want to play the guitar, but then you started singing as well.

Jackie: The song goes on like that for a while, and for the viewers, anyone who can guess that song has a good taste in music.

Interviewer: Unfortunately, I do not know that song. Clearly I don’t have much knowledge about music.

Jackie: Another fun little thing to know is that since the lockdown, I have a Nintendo switch. I must say that I’ve used this quite a lot. Especially when some of my teammates where living with me in my house and we all played Mario Kart. A little secret about that that I have to tell you as well is that we always used the Player of the Match award from the World Cup to hold conversations and give a little speech (thanking your parents friends, etc - think about thank you speeches after awards ceremeonies) thanking people after someone won a game of Mario Kart.

Jackie: This is my balcony.

Interviewer: That’s really high up.

Jackie: It’s really nice to have. I’ll point to some things now.

*points* Here are some restaurants that I would usually eat at frequently.

*points again* That’s one of my dad’s favourite restaurants.

Interviewer: I’m not very familiar with the city of Manchester and I don’t recognize the area that you live in, but is the stadium close to your apartment?

Jackie: *points towards stadium* The Man United stadium is right over there behind that building. It’s about a 10 minute walk away from my apartment. I go there quite a bit as well.

Interviewer: A 10 minute walk?! That’s so nice to have the stadium so close.

Jackie: So, from rainy Manchester, I’d like to say thank you for watching my crib tour. I hope you enjoyed watching, and I hope to see everyone very soon again in the Netherlands. Bye!

Interviewer’s report of Jackie’s crib tour:

Inside Challenge: 5/5. I think that everyone who saw that was flabbergasted by your singing.

Football Factor: 3,25/5. The location relative to the stadium is perfect for a footballer. The fact that you can walk 10 minutes to the training as well is so nice to have as a footballer.

Food: 5/5 I saw a lot of Dutch food there, and you also get some bonus points for the beschuit met muisjes.

Chill area: 2,75/5. The chill area was okay. I don’t think you need much room for a chill area as long as there is somewhere to brush your teeth (laughs).

Final score: 4,5/5

#jackie groenen #translations

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bamon4bamily · 4 years ago

Text

TVD 9x16 - What happens in Vegas... (part 2 of part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – The hospital location. As soon as they arrive, they figure they must have made some kind of mistake. It is in fact a Psychiatric Hospital, but it looks like it has been abandoned for years.

UBER DRIVER: Looks like you might have the wrong address…

KAI: It’s the right address, look (shows Damon his phone with last night’s route).

DAMON: Guess it is…

UBER DRIVER: Are you sure you guys want me to leave you here?

IKER: Trust us, man, after last night, it can’t get any crazier.

UBER DRIVER: If you say so. Good luck! (Drives away).

ALARIC: (Looking at the creepy place, already regretting whatever they did there the previous night) Why?! Why on earth would we come here!

DAMON: Guessing princess bride here (referring to Kai), had something to do with that.

IKER: There is no way that call came from here...

DAMON: Let’s check it out. We’ll do it fast, in and out; just to make sure Stefan isn’t passed out somewhere inside.

ALARIC: I’m getting too old for this shit…

DAMON: Oh, come on, Ric! Think of it as another one of your Indiana Jones adventures (mocking him for the photos he took in cosplay), the Last Crusade, if you like.

ALARIC: Shut up…

They go inside… the place is straight out of a horror movie.

IKER: Okay, I’m officially creeped out.

DAMON: I say we split up; it’ll be faster and we can cover more ground.

KAI: Have you ever seen a horror movie? That’s exactly the kind of decision that gets everybody killed… Trust me, I would know.

DAMON: Fine, Michael Myers, you can come with me.

We’ll look this way... Iker, you and Ric can search down that corridor.

IKER: Sounds like a plan. But, 20 minutes max, then we meet back here.

DAMON: 20 tops. (Teasing, as him and Kai are walking away) Oh, and watch out for the killer clown…

IKER: Yo, don’t play with that shit, man! You know I hate clowns...

ALARIC: So do you, Damon. So, if anyone is pissing their pants, my money is on you.

(Damon and Kai walk towards one direction, Iker and Alaric, towards another).

KAI: Do you really think Stefan is here? I mean, I know he’s dark and gloomy, but this is a bit extreme… even for me.

DAMON: The only reason we are here is because your crazy ass is definitely responsible for dragging us here last night.

KAI: Yeah, probably… but still, creepy AF…

DAMON: Now you know how we feel when you’re around. But… what I am really intrigued about, is how the hell you joined our little party.

You must remember at least getting on a plane or something...

KAI: No… Last thing I remember, I was taking a nap, and then… puff! I woke up here…

DAMON: You couldn’t have driven; so how the hell did you get here… Makes no sense.

KAI: Ooh…! What if I can do that Bonster trick?! That’d be freakin awesome!

DAMON: Of course you can’t, that’s stupid. Unless… No, no, I refuse to believe that…

KAI: What? You think Bonster...? Hey, it makes more sense than the alternatives…

DAMON: No way! Hell no! Let’s just drop this little mystery of ours and do what we came here to do… (they continue searching; suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks) Shhhhh, do you hear that?

KAI: What? No…

DAMON: Listen…

KAI: I am! I don’t hear anything…

DAMON: I thought you had vamp hearing…. Listen harder.

KAI: (Standing completely still and in total silence, trying to listen…)

DAMON: (Does a vamp speed trick, scares the shit out of Kai) Killer clown!

KAI: Jesus mother of Christ! (Damon cracks up) Not funny, asshole!

I literally almost shit myself! And, I’m hung over, so that was a real possibility!

DAMON: Ew, no, no, no… you’re disgusting.

KAI: Just being honest… don’t act like you don’t know what that’s about.

DAMON: Yeah, no... definitely not having this conversation!

Come on, let’s pick up the paste; vamp speed our way through this place before we become the victims of the “based on a true story” Saw movie.

Cut to – Iker and Alaric

ALARIC: Sorry we got you into this mess, man.

IKER: No worries. I’m used to it. These types of situations pretty much sums up what it’s like being friends with Damon.

ALARIC: Tell me about it. My life said goodbye to “normal” the day we became friends.

IKER: Ditto (they laugh in complicity).

ALARIC: He’s a good guy, though. I mean, considering…

IKER: He is… I’m really glad Bonnie gave him a chance; never seen him this happy… like, really happy.

ALARIC: Me neither… I think we both know he wasn’t truly happy with Elena. Don’t tell her I said that… but no matter how hard they tried; it just wasn’t going to work; too messy. Gotta say, it’s kind of ironic that when he “got the girl”, turned out it wasn’t the “right girl” … After all his love drama, it was about time he finally found “the one”.

IKER: It sure was… Hey, man, look… (spots something strange ahead, vamps to it. It’s a black garbage bag; which wouldn’t be all that strange if it weren’t new). Check this out… (Alaric opens the bag, and starts taking memorabilia from iconic Britney Spears videos, which are clearly originals) What the…

ALARIC: I’m starting to believe Stefan wasn’t kidding…

IKER: Nah… you don’t think… Can’t be, right?!

ALARIC: When those two (referring to Damon and Stefan) team-up, anything is possible, so… maybe?

IKER: Oh, shit! This is getting crazier than I thought!

ALARIC: Straight out insane. Let’s go back. I’m pretty sure Stefan isn’t here, and this place is giving me the chills.

IKER: Me too… (they head back to the meeting point).

Cut back to Kai and Damon.

KAI: We’ve searched everywhere, I really don’t think he’s here…

DAMON: You’re right. Another dead end; let’s go back. (Just as they are about to turn around, Damon spots something) Wait… do you see that?

KAI: Hell no! I’m not falling again.

DAMON: No, I’m serious. Look... (they see something shiny. Damon takes a closer look, picks it up) It’s Donovan’s badge.

KAI: So, they were definitely here with us…Anything else?

DAMON: Nop, just the badge.

KAI: Well, let’s head back, see what we all make of it. This place is really starting to freak me out… the vibes, you know?

DAMON: Yeah, I know… (they speed vamp back to the meeting point and reunite with Alaric and Iker).

ALARIC: Find anything? Cause we did…

DAMON: Stefan?!

ALARIC: No, this (shows him the bag with the memorabilia).

DAMON: What is all this?

IKER: (Teasing) You know perfectly well what it is…

KAI: All too well, sweetheart.

DAMON: At least I didn’t get married in a tutu, princess.

KAI: That princess thing got old like an hour ago. You really need to start thinking outside the box, Damon.

DAMON: That’s right! Yes! A box! I remember a box!

ALARIC: Great! And…?

DAMON: That’s it, that’s all I got.

ALARIC: (Sarcastic) Very helpful, Damon.

DAMON: Well, we also found this… (shows them Matt’s badge)

ALARIC: Interesting… still not a lot to go on, but that confirms we were all here. Listen, guys, I may have a theory…I still don’t know how, or why, but I believe we actually did go to Britney’s house, the real Britney; at some point during the night…Look at the props; they don’t seem fake… Which brings me to the conclusion, that we must have stolen them from her house. Now, as for why? … I have no fucking idea, and I can live without knowing…

KAI: The Britney Spears?! Nah, there’s no way we would be able to break into her house!

DAMON: But what if we didn’t break in… What if, and just hear me out on this, Sheriff Donovan pulled the cop card… and that’s how they let us in.

ALARIC: Matt wouldn’t do that.

DAMON: Maybe not sober, but…

ALARIC: Still, they wouldn’t have let a wasted cop and his pals in for some tea.

KAI: But if we sneaked in… let’s say, hiding inside a police car?

IKER: A police car! Yes! I told you I remembered something about a police car; it was one of those suv ones…

DAMON: We must have stolen one…

IKER: Wouldn’t be a long shot.

DAMON: Don’t those things have trackers though? They would have found us in seconds.

KAI: Not if you know how to disable a tracking device… which I do.

DAMON: Why am I not surprised…

KAI: I had a lot of time on my hands, figured I’d learn a trick or two.

ALARIC: Okay, this is getting even more confusing. I say we go back to the villa, for all we know Stefan might be back. We can check the hotel parking lot, see if we find a stolen cop car; work it from there.

KAI: Agreed. We really need to get out of this place; freaking me TF out. Uber’s on me.

(They wait for a while, until their uber arrives. As they drive away, on one of the top floor windows, a freaky clown waves goodbye).

Cut to – The boy’s hotel villa. They walk inside, and hear the piano playing…

DAMON: It’s that damn monkey! (They walk into the living room, only to find Britney Spears, in the flesh, playing the piano).

BRITNEY: Hello, boys…

KAI: Britney…the Britney Spears…?

BRITNEY: The one and only…

KAI: (Totally fanboying) Oh my god!

DAMON: (Totally fanboying too) OMG! OMG! OMG! It’s Britney, bitches!

BRITNEY: Aw, you’re sweet…

(takes a gun out of her purse and points it at them). Now, shut the fuck up and tell me where the hell is the rest of my stuff!!

ALARIC: Wow, wow, wow… please, don’t shoot! It’s right here (hands her the bag, she looks through it).

BRITNEY: You’re lucky I like to handle somethings on my own. You’d all be dead if my security were involved…

DAMON: (Still fanboying) Lucky… I love that song!

BRITNEY: Now, where is Stefan? We need to settle this little feud of ours, once and for all.

ALARIC: Wouldn’t we all like to know…

BRITNEY: What do you mean? He was with you (referring to Damon), the cop, and the howling boy, at my house last night.

DAMON: Wait, so, neither of these guys were there with us?

BRITNEY: No… but if you had brought him (referring to Iker), maybe things could have turned out differently (winks at Iker).

Tell you what, boys, I’ll help you find him. As long as you help me get my long-awaited trophy win, on “Mr. Bon Jovi”.

DAMON: Wait… so that concert story; that was you?

I thought Stefan was messing with me!

BRITNEY: Oh, that was me… Prick made me think he was Bon Jovi, I was totally fangirling, so embarrassing. That was before I got really famous, and I met the real John. Made me feel like a fool when I told John we had met before, and he was like: “uhm, no we haven’t”. So, as you can understand, it was only fitting that I would get him back for that.

DAMON: I’m with you, Brit, Stefan is a dick!

ALARIC: Can you give us any insight on what happened at your place? Might help us figure out where he is.

BRITNEY: I know from my security cameras that they used a police suv to gain access. Then you (referring to Damon), did some weird eye thing to my security team, and they just stood there, doing nothing. I also know from the cameras, that Stefan took my babies Justi and Kevi (referring to the baby elephant and the monkey). And you (to Damon), stole the memorabilia I had from my videos… My red leather suit better be intact, or I’mma kill you!

DAMON: Oops…

IKER: Don’t you dare say: “I did it again”...

BRITNEY: Wait… I think I might know where he is… Back when we first met, we were here, in Vegas. He took me to this spot in the desert he liked to go to; he’s such a weirdo… Anyway, maybe he went there? You know, for old times’ sake…

ALARIC: Maybe… but it’s gonna be hard to find a “spot” in the middle of the desert, and we don’t have much time; our plane is leaving in like 3 hours.

BRITNEY: Well, if you want to go back home with the rest of your pack, you really don’t have much of a choice.

KAI: There’s no way we are going to find him if he is in the middle of the desert.

BRITNEY: It’s Britney, bitch!

Of course we’ll find him. Listen, you boys take the cop van and follow mine, I’ll lead you to the spot.

IKER: Except, we don’t know where it is…

BRITNEY: (Smirks) But I do… (shows them live cctv footage from inside the cop car) See, boys, I have eyes everywhere! It’s in the parking lot.

(They go to the car and find Matt and Tyler inside, a cellphone in Matts hand, and a lot of empty bottles lying around. As expected, neither of them remember anything about the previous night; it’s a miracle they even know who they are. The only thing they keep repeating, and cracking up about is, Rawson Neal Psychiatric Hospital. They are clearly either still drunk or high on something. They decide it’s best they stay behind and get some rest in the villa. Damon, Iker, Alaric and Kai get in the cop car, and follow Britney to the site.)

BRITNEY: Okay, boys, this is the spot. (They get out of the car, start looking around. She get’s out as well, points the gun at them). Did you really think I was going to help you?! Aw, cuties…no one messes with the Brit! I gave Stefan his, now it’s time for yours …

KAI: But, Britney, what about us (referring to himself, Iker, and Alaric)? We didn’t do anything!

BRITNEY: Guilty by association… Now, give me your clothes, and the car keys… Quick, or I swear I’ll shoot! (They hand her the stuff; she gets in her car. Just as she is about to take-off, she opens her window) If you want to know where Stefan is; it’s easy, he’s exactly where he belongs… Good luck trying to find an uber to pick you up here… And, by the way, sweetheart (talking to Damon), there’s only one princess of pop, and it ain’t you.

(Gives them the finger, and drives away).

DAMON: (Looking heartbroken) But… Britney…

ALARIC: (Sarcastic) Well, isn’t this peachy!

IKER: At least she left us our phones.

ALARIC: There is no way we are going to catch that flight, or find Stefan any time soon. I think it’s time to call Caroline…

DAMON: Shit! Shit! Shit!... Fine… I’ll do it… (dials). Care, it’s Damon… Listen ...The bachelor party got a little crazy and, well...we lost Stefan.

BONNIE: Uhm…think we might have a problem of our own…

DAMON: Bon?

BONNIE: It’s me, I think… Anyway; the bachelorette got a little crazy too, and, well… we lost Caroline.

TVD 9x16 (part 2) coming next! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

#TVD #tvd fanfiction #vampire diaries #bamon #bamon fanfic #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #ilovefanfic86 #mademoisellevalerie85 #stephm1587 #bamon-fanfiction

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galacticidiots · 5 years ago

Note

AUs,AUs...how about either a Regency AU or a Victorian AU, if either of those strike your interest? (Or any other historical period, if not.)

Anonymous asked: Fake dating AU (I’m combining these two prompts, I hope you don’t mind!)

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Less universally acknowledged is that a single woman in possession of a fortune just wants to be left alone to enjoy it, without a husband to contend with.

That is why, when presented with the opportunity, Lord Solo, Duke of Alderaan and Lady Palpatine, heiress of Exegol Park and owner of half of Sithshire, plotted a scheme — mutually beneficial, if not altogether proper by the standards of polite society — and began a fake courtship, essentially binding themselves to each other, with the sole purpose of appearing unavailable to other suitors.

For Ben, it was a means to escape his lady mother’s loathsome reminders that he must marry; for Rey, it was a way for her to go on enjoying life as an unmarried woman, free to do as she pleased.

And even though they both prized themselves on their wit and intellect, neither accounted for a most unexpected turn of events: that their pretend feelings would, slowly but surely, become real.

They met at a ball, because every story worth telling has its start among the swishing of skirts of ladies wearing expensive chiffon and the passing around of imported cigars by gentleman in elegantly tied cravats.

Lord Solo, recently returned from a tour of Europe where his reputation as a rake and a fiend only served to bolster his standing in Coruscant’s society, was the reason for every lady’s giggle and blush. All, except for one - Lady Rey, who herself was used to being the topic of conversation at every social gathering. As one of the most eligible young ladies of marriageable age, her resistance to being seen as little more than a trophy to be won by one of the men in her social circle was first met with surprise, then with scorn and finally with antipathy.

She had heard all about him through her cousin Rose, who dedicated more time to the Society Pages than to her studies. He intrigued her, she could admit as much - a man of his social standing, with his fortune, was certainly allowed his eccentricities, but Lord Ben Solo had always appeared, at least to Rey’s well trained eye, to be resolutely against any and all societal rules of decorum. It mattered little she could relate to his familial woes - well known and extensively documented in every issue of the Society Pages - because even though they were both products of complicated families, they were complete and total opposites.

Which is why she is quite taken aback when Lord Solo seeked her out at the ball, just when she had managed to flee from yet another encounter with a boorish bachelor and his tenacious mamma.

“Would you like a respite?” His voice startled her.

“A respite?” she echoed. He nodded, a bemused smile gracing his features, which even she had to admit were handsome.

“You seem to be hiding from every gentleman in attendance.”

“I’ll remind you, your grace, that you are also a gentleman in attendance.”

Lord Solo shook his head. “That’s debatable, I’m afraid - the gentleman part, at least. And I meant a respite from the party. It seems we have both grown bored of it.”

“And here I thought the weak lemonade and ratafia would be right to your taste.”

“Not quite,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm.

“Well, you’re right on both accounts,” she conceded. “I have grown bored of this dreadful music and I am currently hiding from Lord Herrington and his frightfully heavy feet.”

Ben’s laugh was soft and low. “I believe you.” His appraising gaze weighed on her. “But surely one of them must suit your fancy. Enough to marry, perhaps?”

He was teetering on the edge of impoliteness and he knew it; a gentleman should never be so forward with a lady. And yet there was something about her that made him press on, that made him desperate to know more about her.

“I will never marry,” she said decisively, her tone final, almost like she was expecting to have to defend herself to him.

Ben was unable to hide his shock. “No?”

“Not if I can help it. Why should I give up my freedom?”

He didn’t know what he expected from Lady Palpatine, but this was surely not it.

“And you, your grace?” she asks, jutting her stubborn little chin. Her profile waas elegant and regal and Ben could see why so many men rushed to prostrate themselves at her feet. He’d seen it happen right before his eyes, thrice that evening alone. “Do you want to get married?”

“I don’t.”

Rey scoffed. “You think you don’t. All men think they don’t, but you will.”

“No,” he replied. “I truly won’t.”

Rey balked. “What about your title? If you don’t marry and sire an heir, it will expire.”

“Let my cousins take it, I don’t want it.”

She was at a loss for words. Could it be that they weren’t so different after all? He would never marry, and he was free to come and go as he pleased. That was all she wanted for her own life.

Suddenly, Lord Ben Solo didn’t seem quite the conceited rake she made him out to be.

He eyed her speculatively. “Miss Palpatine, I have a proposal for you.”

Rey grinned, curious. “Go on.”

And so it was agreed - Ben would take time out of his schedule of appearing busy and avoiding his family to call on Rey at her home, fiendishly expensive tulips in hand, to pretend to woo and court her and decidedly scare off any young bachelor who had the misfortune of assuming he could try to win Miss Palpatine’s affections. She in turn would have to do very little; by indulging his visits and being seen taking a turn around the park with him, she would put a stop to Lady Leia’s matchmaking - which would, in turn, decrease the number of headaches she caused her son.

“I can’t remember the last time I conversed with someone with such obvious good sense.”

They had walked the length of Jansaari Park together - Rose, their unwitting chaperone, a few steps behind. Conversation flowed easily between them. So easily, in fact, that their walks had turned into a daily affair.

“You must not think very highly of your usual company, then.”

“No,” he mused. “I think it's just you, really.”

Rey frowned. “What about me?”

“You’re… quite spectacular, Miss Palpatine.” His words were almost hushed. He seemed to regret saying them, for he rushed to correct himself. “What I mean is, I-... I take great pleasure in your company.”

It was Rey’s turn to blush. “Thank you, your grace.”

“Ben, please.” His smile was coy. “Just Ben.”

They carried on walking, silence settling comfortably between them.

“What I meant, earlier, is that you seem to know what you want out of life.” He inclined his head graciously. “I admire that.”

“Do you know what you want?”

He took some time to ponder her words, gazing out at the sprawling field ahead. “I made some decisions when I was younger. I hope to live my life according to those vows.”

Rey respected that. She recognized in him the same values, the same hopes and dreams, the same ideals she herself treasured. Not for the first time, she had to make room in her head for this new version of Lord Solo - Ben - that she was getting to know, little by little, every day.

Their daily walks became daily calls and then biweekly trips to the theatre. Soon enough, they became the talk of town - how Lord Solo and Lady Rey could never be seen more than two feet apart.

The Society Pages betted on a spring wedding.

His proposal, when it came, wasn’t the most gracious or the most eloquent.

“Rey,” he started, and she knew what was coming, could feel it in her bones and in her heart.

“You know I never wanted any of this. I didn’t want a wife, or a family and I definitely didn’t want to fall in love-”

“That’s not terribly romantic,” she interrupted with an amused huff.

“It’s the truth,” he shrugged. “But you changed all of that. You came into my life and changed it all for the better and I…”

He swallowed thickly. Patience had never been Rey’s strongest suit, but she made herself wait for him to finish, needing to hear him say it.

“I love you.” His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and it pierced Rey to her very soul. “Desperately. Because it’s impossible not to love you.”

She captured his mouth with a kiss and melted into his arms.

The answer, predictably, was yes.

#ask #reylo #au meme #this is a tribute to jane auten AND julia quinn because they're my forever fave period gals #I hope it's not garbage *hides*#au #txt

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kittensjonsa · 5 years ago

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Trophy Wife

Another day, another detective-lawyer tag team duo Jonsa AU nobody asked for lol. Has this been done before? No idea but for some reason, this was dying to get out of my system, so I just had to -so please bear with it. Or not, up to you (trigger warning below).

Summary: Sansa needs help in bringing down one of the worst criminals of the century - and save her abducted best friend. Jon, a shy elusive private investigator offers a helping hand. Sparks fly when things heat up, while going undercover. *winks*

Rated NC-17 to E for language and content. Major trigger warning for abuse (various). I am neither a lawyer nor a PI so forgive me if I get some of the terms wrong. Part One of (maybe, let’s see) Three. Enjoy! x

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Part One

Eviction. Jon hated that word. He hated hearing it, hated being threatened by it and now there it was, written all over his door on a notice in red capital letters. Fuck you too, he thought as he tore off the paper. I'll say when I'll go. This was not a time for moving houses or looking for a new place. He was busy, there were things to do and places to hide in. If only they could spare him a couple more months, that was all he needed, if the rent he owed was correct in his head. Jon had lived in his car once and he couldn't live through that again.

Besides, he was on a roll. At least, he'd like to think so. Clients were coming in and he had more jobs that he did a year ago. Of course, that was largely due to his success in uncovering the biggest scandal in all of Westeros - involving the Lannisters and a certain pair of twins who had relations with one another, in a biblical sense, or so it seemed. It did not help one bit when the Lannisters were also the family everyone loved to hate, and Jon probably did the country a huge favour when the news went public. Within days, it was reported that any Lannisters who planned to run for government office were rejected, shunned and ridiculed. So much so, that they went into hiding. Good riddance.

You reap what you sow. They had it coming, Jon told himself. And truthfully, he relished every second of it, bringing down the notorious family - such a satisfying accomplishment it was. It was just ironic that a member of the Lannister family had hired him, turning the evidence into a weapon and declaring war against the Lannister legacy. So much for a happy family.

The pay check from the Lannister job was substantial enough and managed to pay his debts that he owed but when it came to maintaining the business, the cash quickly ran out. Furthermore, it did not help that his clients would only pay once they had received proof that their suspicions were right all along, which took some time. Jon hadn't even counted his gas money and meals during stake outs or the electricity bills that soared after spending late nights playing and watching video tapes over and over. Surveillance was a costly, slow and painstaking process but essential, in getting the dough and the job done.

Maybe I'm too nice. Jon wished he had stipulated a clause in his contract that required a deposit before he accepted any assignments. But frail crying wives desperate to get out of loveless marriages were not people he wanted to take advantage of and a lawyer, he was not. If he had a therapist licence, perhaps it would be more useful in bringing in the bucks. Still, through word of mouth, steadily the business grew - apparently, spying on people was a lucrative outfit. Jon couldn't recall earning this much when he worked at his former security firm at Castle Black.

“So, you'll do it?” the gentleman asked, sliding an envelope towards him. Jon opened it and took a peek, in it had a flash drive and a rolled up wad of cash, which looked like a few thousands.

“I would. But you must know that I work best alone,” Jon agreed.

“Oh no. Not for this one. It will be difficult to crack this one without a partner.”

Smart ass. Trying to tell me how to do my job. The cash looks good though. It'll help tide over a couple of things.

“All right. So I need a partner. You have to give me some time to look for one. And that's going to cost you, you know that right?”

The gentleman smiled and drummed his fingers on the dining table. “Oh, I know that. But what if I already have a partner for you? She's ready to work on this with you.”

“She? Whoa.. back up for a second. I didn't say I needed female partner. Besides, this isn't a job for a lady, if what you told me is true.”

“Trust me, she's on board with this a hundred percent. I trust her to do the job, above and beyond.”

Jon was still reluctant. The quick and easy cash advance had come with its own conditions. “Okay. Does she have a name? I'd have to do background checks, you know and all of that, for safety reasons.”

“Of course. All you need on her is on the flash drive in there,” he pointed to the envelope Jon was resting his hands on. “Besides, she's my niece.”

“Your what? And you're okay with her getting involved?”

He nodded and turned his attention back to his newly refilled coffee. Jon couldn't believe his ears. What kind of uncle are you?

“She feels as strongly about this than just about anyone. Maybe more. And she volunteered. I suppose she has her reasons. How can I say no that?”

“Yeah... but we're investigating an alleged sex ring. Are we not? Seems a little inappropriate, don't you think?” Jon whispered as he leaned in, wondering what kind of shenanigans people are up to these days.

Jon watched as he put down his mug and adjusted the glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose. He didn't strike Jon as a sleazeball, the kind who would sell and pimp anything or anyone to make a buck. He was mysterious yet friendly, sophisticated yet ruggedly worn, as if he had seen enough ills in his lifetime.

“A human trafficking ring, to be exact. We've been trying to go after them for years but they get away with it every time. You know why? Because all evidence pointing to them were ruled inadmissible. Come on, you've read about it in the papers, on the news. Day in, day out we built the case and every time we find something worthwhile, another detail or another statement comes up and render the leads useless.”

It was true. It was all over the media - the Boltons and the Freys accused of allegedly running an illegal sex trade. But to Jon, it seemed that there was all there was to it. People wanting to have a bit of fun at a party isn’t that new or illegal, he thought, even though he depised the Boltons and the Freys as much as the next decent guy on the street. Unless of course, if the ring was made up of abducted girls or worse, minors. That would truly be despicable and one that warranted medieval torture and capital punishment. This is going to be quite the undertaking, Jon suddenly realised.

“Have you considered going to the police... or your client going to the police for help? Instead of a private investigator.”

Jon waited for an answer as both their eyes met, one was smiling and the other was not.

“You don't think the police isn't involved in this? Not investigating, no that. We have reason to believe that members of the police are themselves the perpetrators. I'm talking high ranking officials, son. So, you see why we have to.. approach this in another way.”

“Okay, I see your point. All right then. I'll need to meet this niece of yours, so I can clue her in on how to go about this. Though, I'm not sure how it'll work.”

“I am sure you'll try your best. Believe me, Jon, if we win this case, it'll be the biggest one yet. It's something greater than all of us. It's for the greater good. I can't quite discuss names or details than what I've just told you or who my client is but the money? There's more where that came from. Here's my card, should you need anything.”

Jon looked at the name card. “ Well, you sold me there. We'll be in touch, Mr Stark.”

“Likewise, Jon. Oh, and call me Ben. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Jon watched as Benjen Stark left the diner and into his Mercedes, as he contemplated his next step. This was a big job, and Benjen was right, he probably could not handle it alone. Still, Jon was curious and intrigued, wondering whom his partner was.

Jon jolted up from his bed when the doorbell rang. It was only eight in the morning and Jon did not recall ordering anything that required an early morning delivery. Ugh, what..

Jon stumbled out of bed, clad only in yesterday's jeans and stepping on notes scattered everywhere in his room. His living room wasn't spared either, with boxes of carefully labelled tapes stacked haphazardly in every corner.

“Jon Snow? Hi, I'm Sansa Stark. My uncle.. he spoke with you yesterday..”

Jon rubbed his eyes and squinted at the blurry figure in front of him. His eyes were stubbornly still asleep. Slowly but gradually, in the few minutes that it took for Jon to recover from his sleep-ridden stupor, his vision came round and found himself gazing at a tall redhead standing before him. Whoa.. okay.

“Bad time? I can come back later,” she said, sheepish at the sight of a sleepy half naked man yawning at her.

“No.. wait. You're the niece? Of Benjen?” Jon said, as memories from last night's meeting came to mind.

Sansa nodded. “The very one. He says I'll be working with you. On the case?”

It was way too early to be discussing details about work or anything, really and Jon needed a cup of good strong black coffee to stay awake. Shouldn't have read the file at three in the morning.

“Right. Come on in.” Jon opened the door wider as he led her into the living room. Sansa accepted the invite, albeit with caution as she stepped in, carefully steering clear of the boxes and files around her.

“Pardon the mess, I don't get visitors much. Coffee?” Jon apologized as he helped himself to a cup of chilled coffee from the fridge. It was a norm now, keeping coffee from the night before, to save money. It didn't taste as good as freshly brewed coffee but it woke him nonetheless.

“Uhh.. no thanks. Water's fine.”

Jon watched the lady seated on his couch waiting politely for him to finish. He had gone through the file on her as Benjen had given. Graduated with honours at the top of her class at University of Westeros' Law School. Interned for two years at one of the top firms right after graduation and now a junior partner at Stark, Tully & Reed. Perhaps one of the most fascinating fact was that Sansa Stark had been on the prosecuting team in the 'Lannister vs the people' case. It was no wonder the Starks had come looking for him. He guessed he probably didn't need any further introductions, for now.

“So, how about we start about why you're here, Miss Stark,” Jon said, handing her a glass of tap water.

Sansa thanked him as she took the glass from his hand and set it down on an empty spot on the cluttered coffee table.

“Sansa, please. First of all, I apologize for not letting you know that I was coming. I did call and text yesterday but I suppose you were asleep. It was late anyway. Sorry about that.”

Jon then remembered his phone, which was now likely dead since he forgot to charge it. Oops.

“Oh, did you? Lately been trying to kind of de-plug every once in a while. But yeah, I might have fallen asleep too. Had some notes to go through and kind of forgot about my phone. My bad.”

Sansa smiled and took a small sip of water. “Oh.. that's all right. Anyway, let's start over. I'm Sansa Stark and I'll be working with you. I believe my uncle has filled you in? Pleased to meet you, Mr Jon Snow.” Sansa offered her hand.

Jon returned the handshake with a wary smile. “Pleasure's all mine. And please, Sansa, call me Jon. So, I'm guessing you know what we're working with?”

“I do. I was the one who put it together so I should know more about it than anyone.”

Benjen said he couldn't share details about who the client was and now Jon was curious. Sansa Stark seemed a force to be reckoned with - coming up and putting together a case of this magnitude could either be the ruin or the highlight of her law career.

“I see. Well, I must say I'm impressed. But you do know this can be dangerous work, right? If what your uncle says is true.”

“If it means saving hundreds from a cruel fate then I'm all for it. Besides-”

A loud rumbling growl startled Sansa to a pause mid sentence.

Jon's cheeks reddened, patting his stomach. “Umm..Do you think we could talk about this over breakfast? I.. I had a light dinner yesterday.”

Sansa bit down her lip as tried to stifle her giggle. This man is hilarious. Cute though. She didn't mind at all working alongside him. “Sure. I'm buying.”

Awesome. I don't mind it at all. Nothing more Jon loved than rich people willing to spend. But a cheap greasy diner breakfast with all the works was just what he needed right now. He can think of other fancy things later.

“I hope you don't mind. Not many fancy places around here,” Jon pointed to a booth in the diner, right in a corner where he usually sat every day and night. Grenn, the owner and chef who was also a friend and neighbour, made sure it was always empty and reserved just for him.

Sansa beamed at him, her striking blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. “Are you kidding me? Diners are the best. The only places that helped through mid terms and finals. And man, they were gruelling. I would retreat to a diner and have a chocolate banana milkshake whenever things got a little tough. This.. is nice.”

Jon felt at ease immediately. Something told him he was going to have a great time working the case.

“So, tell me. Why 'Trophy Wife'? I mean, can't you call it what it is?” Jon asked, in between mouthfuls of bacon and French toast.

“Well, it's a code word you know. Human trafficking, sex ring.. these are terms people are not comfortable hearing, especially in public or in an office. Besides, not many people know about it and it is absolutely crucial that it stays that way. Too much information shared with anyone else won’t be good for us. Plus, I think it's also because.. it seems the victims are forced and paraded as wives of these predators. You know, so it seems legit. But that’s just a guess. I know deep down, there's nothing legitimate about it.”

“Good point.” Jon concurred, shoving the last piece of French toast into his mouth.

“You want to hear a story? We actually managed to get hold of a marriage certificate, you know, one that shared a victim's name on it. But get this - it was fake. There was no such church nor was there any minister with that name. It was a bust.”

“Yikes. Okay, so that should be proof enough right? I mean, right there is already fraud.”

Sansa sighed. “Yeah, up until someone accused us of fabricating the marriage certificate. I mean, we couldn't use it at all since it was fake. It definitely derailed the investigation for a while and it was the only promising lead we had. I believe there are still many. Out there. We just have to make sure the case won't go cold.”

Jon had to ask, seeing how fired up Sansa seemed about the whole thing. “Can I ask you something? If you don't mind my asking. Why this? I mean there are so many easier cases out there waiting.. but why this one?”

Sansa looked at him and looked away, turning towards the window.

“Jeyne Poole was twenty five years old when she went missing last year. Next month would be her seventh month missing. Her parents are worried sick and her mom had a stroke because of it. Jeyne was last seen at her place of work and that was it. She just disappeared and dropped from the face of the earth. That's not Jeyne to pull something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Jon's furrowed brows prompted her further. “She's my age and my best friend, Jon. And no matter what, I have to search for her. Whether she's dead or alive.”

Jon was no stranger to hearing heavily personal details and he thought he could handle all the doom and gloom thrown his way, but this had him a little shaken up.

If he wasn't convinced before, he was sure as hell now. It was a dark treacherous path ahead but Sansa was a woman on a mission. And Jon knew well already, not to get in her way.

“Right. So, what do you need from me?”

It was a quiet walk back to his apartment as the brevity of the situation started to sink in. He may be a mediocre private investigator but a mediocre human being, he was not planning to be. Armed with new information and Sansa's fervour rubbing off on him, Jon was determined to find and annihilate the fuckers, if they really were the Boltons and the Freys, even better. Two less scumbags in the world would be a huge win; they won’t be missed. Sansa and him would be saving, hopefully, not just Jeyne Poole but dozens of vulnerable young women from the very clutches of evil itself.

“I can share the workload with you, if you want. You know, go over the details, help out on surveillance, research all that stuff,” Sansa suggested, as she flipped through the pages of the folder Jon had compiled. It had only a couple of handwritten notes with addresses and names along with documents he printed from the flash drive he was given. He was keen to find some kind of link and honestly, two brains were definitely better than one for it.

“Don't you have a job to attend to? I mean, I don't mind the help but I don't think it's fair that I take you away from what pays your bills. If... you do that sort of thing.”

Sansa shrugged. “One of the perks of living with your parents, I guess, is not paying bills and still having a roof over your head. I've got some money saved and since this is my case, I managed to get an expense budget for it. So, that's covered I guess.”

Jon scoffed. Rich people. “And this expense budget... is from your client?”

“I am not at liberty to say but up to you what to believe. All I know is, what we need for this case, is settled and paid for. Nothing is spared.”

Must be nice being rich.

“Well, you don't say, this client could give us a temporary office to work in, no? I mean, I don't mind doing it out if my house but-”

“You're being evicted in less than two weeks. I know. I had some checks done on you, Jon. Safety reasons, I'm sure you know. But granted, it's not ideal, But I think we may have just the place.. I mean, for the time being. Though.. it's going to take some work and I'll brief you on that soon.” Sansa offered as Jon unlocked his apartment door.

“Okay..that’s a first for me. I mean, if it’s no imposition, I-”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. But hey love to chat but I kinda have to go. Can I take this with me? I'll make you a copy,” Sansa grabbed the folder and walked up to the door, casually glazing over the bit where he was about to be homeless soon. Damn lawyers.

“I was going to pay, you know. It's just that I had to settle other bills first,” Jon explained, though it was futile knowing who he was talking to.

“That's all right. Doesn't make you a bad person. You had priorities, it's understandable. Although if you’re planning on living in your car, I don't think all the boxes in your living room would fit.”

It didn't faze Jon how she had known about him living in his car once upon a hard time and he couldn't agree more. He couldn't exactly afford a storage unit either since the material he had was sensitive and would spell trouble if anything got lost or stolen.

“So, I'll show you the new place? You can come pick up your stuff later this weekend if you want.”

Jon found himself with renewed enthusiasm, relieved that he said yes to the assignment. Whatever tomorrow brings, he'll face it head on, with a swanky new roof over his head.

Bring it on.

#jonsa #jonsa x sansa #jonsa au #jonsa fic #crime fighting jonsa #super sansa #jon is kind of a sidekick but a good one #jon snow is a feminist in my aus #trigger warning: various kinds of abuse #modern jonsa au

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yeeterparkersblog · 5 years ago

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Last Days | PART 2

Pairing: 6 Underground! Four/Billy x reader

Word Count: 5.9 k

Warnings: Stealing is bad, kids; Fat shaming, oops; drinking?; bleeding? Ohno!; baby boomers.

Summary: To everyone else, he was a suave young man in a gang of thieves, someone they would rather not get tangled up with. To you, he was a cheeky bastard who wouldn’t get out of your hair and most of all, a rival thief. But one day, Billy decides to reach out to you, proposing that you work together.

Publishing Date: 22 January 2020

A/N: Right. It’s been a month. I am sorry. Point is, school started and I hate Chemistry. I didn’t expect all the love that Last Days Part 1 has gotten. Thank you so much for all the likes, reblogs and hella nice comments I’ve gotten. Thank you for being so patient. I have no idea when Part 3 will come out, but I will always try my best. You guys are the best, thank you so much, you have no idea how much my face lights up when you leave a sweet comment or you message me to tell me how much you liked the story. Anyway, here’s Part 2.

PART 1

((this is what reader wears to the gala. ALSO OSCARS BEN!!))

“Now remember the plan. Be confident.”

The BMW neared the country club, and even from the car, you could see how luxurious it was. Elegance was radiating off the pristine white walls. The topiaries were clean cut and even the grand fountain in the courtyard seemed to mock you.

“Yes I remember.” You shifted uncomfortably in the car seat, the nerves undoubtedly setting in. “We’ve gone over it a dozen times.” But it was easier said than done.

“It’s alright. The gala is an open event.” He glanced at you sideways, pulling into the main entrance. “But the snooty rich can smell peasants from miles away, so I’m going to need you to stop fidgeting.”

“Just act like you know you belong. They’ll feel too stupid to ask what you’re doing here.” He nudged his head towards the gate. “Steady, (Y/N). Security guards.”

You sat up in the seat, putting on the most snobbish face you could muster. You hear Billy quietly chuckle beside you.

“Like I said, it’s fine.” Billy whispered, his lips barely moving as he drove past the guards. He gave them a small nod, the kind that rich people would give to ‘simpletons’. The security guards didn’t give either of you a second glance and just proceeded to let the car in. As soon as you were out of their range, you resume your relaxed form almost immediately.

“Wow.” You chuckle. “Did it take you long to learn that nod?”

“Took me a while to get the amount of narcissism just right. But the whole ensemble is what ties it together.” He smiled. “Lavish clothes. Expensive car. Trophy wife.”

“They really should get better security.” You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. “The museums too. It’s like they want us to rob them. They’re practically begging for it.”

When you don’t hear a response from Billy, you turn to him, only to see a hint of a smile ghosting the corners of his lips. “Yes, they are.”

We were pulling up closer to the banquet hall. We could hear the slight chatter of the upper class and the hum from other luxury cars.

“One month of planning.” You take a deep inhale to attempt to soothe yourself. “Let’s see if it’s all worth it.”

“Eyes up. Stay sharp.”

As soon we reached the hall, two valet attendants rushed to our car, opening the car door for us. The attendant on my side offers his hand, and with my nose in the air, I take it and assume my role for the evening. He guides me to Billy’s side at the foot of the stairs, and almost instantly the other attendant sticks out his hand.

I mentally sigh. These people probably make more money in one evening than I do at Ritter’s in one year. Must be nice.

Meanwhile, Billy didn’t bat an eye. He gracefully took out 2 hundreds and placed them in both attendants’ hands. It was probably the last of his money, but he wasn’t fazed at all.

All to play the part, I guess. This heist better work.

The two attendants thanked him with a small smile, and the two of them strode off. One to park the BMW, one to find another rich customer.

“Right.” Billy clears his throat next to you and the two of you face the grand staircase that leads to the banquet hall. He holds up his arm.

“Ready, Charlotte Hallowell?”

You smile up at him, lacing your hand in his. “Why of course, Arthur Hargreaves.”

---

“…and he left me the fortune in his will, including the company. My dear father, may he rest in peace.”

The two middle-aged women nodded solemnly, too intrigued in Billy’s sob story to notice your smile. You swirl the flute of champagne in one hand, the other still holding onto his. Billy’s thumb would occasionally swipe over yours, a reminder to play the part.

“Well I know you’ll do a brilliant job.” The brunette spoke first. “You must be devastated after your father’s passing though, Mr. Hargreaves.” Her words sounded sincere, but her face, probably from too many Botox treatments, failed to convey any emotion.

“Please, Dolores. Call me Arthur.” He smiled charmingly at the now blushing woman.

“Oh- Oh my.” You hear her let out a giggle. “Aren’t you delightful?”

An unsettling feeling suddenly made its home in your gut.

“So Arthur.” The second woman, Margaret, spoke next. “You and uh… Catherin-?”

“Charlotte.” You cut in. “It’s Charlotte.” A fake smile crept on your face. You took a steady breath to calm down.

“Fine. Charlotte.” She turned her attention back to ‘Arthur’. “So are you two dating? Married? I don’t see a ring.”

There it was again. That unsettling feeling rearing its ugly head. A visible frown made its way upon your face, and your hand instinctively gripped the champagne flute tighter. But of course the ladies didn’t notice, too fixated on what ‘Arthur’ was going to say next.

God, you really shouldn’t be letting this affect you. But the two women’s complete disregard of you was throwing you off your game. Or maybe it had something to with Billy? Nah, can’t be. You doubt rich housewives are his type.

So you kept quiet. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak sensibly if you were to open your mouth. Too much was at stake.

“Charlotte and I are married.” Billy suddenly blurted out, and you felt his hand squeeze yours tightly.

Shock was evident on you and the ladies’ faces, but you did a better job at hiding it. But this wasn’t the plan. The plan was Arthur and Charlotte were supposed to be just dating. You felt his thumb run over yours again – this time a comfort.

But no matter how taken aback the ladies were by the news, they still had more prodding to do.

“If you’re married,” Margaret interrogated first. “How come Charlotte isn’t a Hargreaves? I seem to recall her last name being something else.”

“That’s right. Her name is Hallowell.” Dolores continued. Good to see someone remembering your name. She suddenly turned to you. “Are you too proud of a woman to take your husband’s name?”

Oh wow. Okay, fuck you too.

Steam was practically exiting your nostrils. It took all of your will to hold yourself back from saying something that you’d regret. You took a sip of your champagne, all while maintaining Dolores’ piercing eye contact.

You felt Billy’s hand let go of yours, and protectively wrap around your shoulder instead.

“The Hargreaves may be a family of class, but so are the Hallowells.” Billy’s voice was controlled. “Charlotte isn’t too proud to take my name, she’s proud because she knows her worth.”

You grin to yourself. How nice of Billy to stick up for you, even if it was a cover story. But if Billy felt that this was okay… Oh well, a little wouldn’t hurt.

“See? I didn’t have to take my husband’s name to be somebody.” You gave the both of them a sickeningly sweet smile. “But you two wouldn’t know anything about that.”

The two women clasped their hands to their hearts in unison, and it would have been creepy how on beat it was if it hadn’t been so bloody hilarious! They gasped audibly, their form amusingly resembling that of Joffrey Baratheon when he had been poisoned.

You bit down on your lip to stop your grin from spreading any further. You were trying your best, but you could already feel Billy’s body shaking with silent laughter beside you.

It was only now you’d realize how close you two were. His body was pressed against yours, and his laughing had sent jolts of electricity down your spine. Your shoulder, where he still has his hand on felt warm with his touch.

“WELL I NEVER!” Margaret suddenly burst out, and you force yourself to swallow your oncoming fits of giggles. “You millennials are just so rude! How-!”

“Come. Margaret.” Dolores interrupted before she could go into a full rant. “We know when we’re not wanted.” The both of them stuck their noses in the air and shoved their way through you and Billy, separating you two.

The spot on your shoulder felt excruciatingly exposed.

“I don’t think they know when they’re not wanted.” Billy scoffed at the ladies who were making their exit hastily. He smoothed down his white suit. “Or they wouldn’t have come to the gala at all.”

You let out a hearty laugh, the first real one ever since your arrival here.

“I think they’re just intimidated, (Y/N).” His voice dropped to the lowest whisper at your name. “Their husbands would take one look at you and drop them the very next second just to get a chance with you.”

You chuckle quietly, a pink hue tinged your cheeks. “Aren’t you a charmer?”

“Of course. Why else did the women approach me?” He stood up just a little bit straighter. “Maybe they would have backed off if they knew I had you as my gorgeous wife.”

You shoved him playfully. “Piss off.”

But you didn’t fail to notice how your heart had sped up with his words.

“But I don’t think it was a complete waste of time.” You continued.

“How so?”

“Dolores strikes me as a person who’d love attention. I mean, did you see the pearl necklace around her neck?” You were received with a small smirk of his. “Would be a shame if she lost it.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The clinging of a fork on a champagne glass brought you and Billy out of your hushed discussion. A silence went over the crowd as all heads turned towards the man.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re so very delighted to have you all here tonight. But you’re not here to listen to me talk, you’re here for my newest addition in the collection, of course!”

Resounding applause came from the crowd, who were now anxious to see the necklace. Many of them were tiptoeing and tilting their heads, trying to get a better view of the covered case at the front.

“Forget everything else that the committee has to offer. All the other gems that you’ve all seen in the country club’s jewelry room? That’s absolutely nothing!” The man boasted loudly, and the crowd was egging him on. Billy’s demeanor shifted to that of concentration, his body suddenly rigid. But you barely noticed, you too were caught up in the man’s boast.

“This is the most beautiful and priceless artifact I have ever set eyes on. That’s why I am honored to present to you…” He took a step back next to the case with a flourish, whipping off the black cloth in a second.

“The Ruza!!”

Oh, it was beautiful. It was glittering gold and as bright as the sun. The small gems on the necklace made for intricate patterns on the design. It was big, but not so bulky that it felt like too much. 5 million pounds. Not too shabby.

But of course, you weren’t the only one who thought so. Oohs and aahs from the crowd were taken in by the presenter with pride. He had more words to say, more facts to gloat about, but you’ve heard enough.

“Billy!” You whisper-shout at him. “The Ruza. We gotta put the plan in action now.”

He didn’t say anything back, he looked too deep in thought. His brilliant eyes darting back and forth between you and the gold necklace.

“Billy?” You waved your hands in front of his eyes. “You should get ready. I’ll go get Dolores’ pearl ne-”

“(Y/N), I don’t think we should steal the Ruza.”

His words took you by surprise, and a stunned silence was your first response.

“What!” You took a deep inhale to calm yourself down. “Billy, please don’t tell me y-”

“I’ve got a better idea.” He cut in. “Like I said before, there are always certain risks involved in this job. But my new plan will significantly decrease those risks.”

You pursed your lips in uncertainty. “Billy…”

“Trust me, please.” He scratched the back of his neck. “(Y/N).”

You bit down on your lip. “I trust you.” A small smile creased his lips. “Let me hear it.”

---

“This must be worth at least 50 million.” You managed to breathe out.

The sight before you was one to behold. Twinkling and shimmering in their individual cases, more than thirty types of jewelry. Diamond necklaces, ruby rings and Swarovski crystal earrings. SO! MUCH! MORE!

“Billy, this could set us up for life!” you gasped. You were shaking with anticipation, looking around like a little kid at the toy store.

“We’re only taking one.”

Your smile dropped. “Of course we are.”

“Question is, which one.”

He walked around the jewelry room, examining each case and the treasure inside. He took his time. There wasn’t a single person in or near the room besides the two of you. Security guards were either posted at the front gates or in the banquet hall where the gala was.

“(Y/N), do you know why we’re taking one of these and not the Ruza?”

Your memory went back to when Billy stiffened up during the Ruza’s reveal.

“Forget everything else that the committee has to offer. All the other gems that you’ve all seen in the country club’s jewelry room? That’s absolutely nothing!” The presenter had said.

Billy saw the glint of recollection in your eyes. “They don’t care. They really should know better.” He did a double take at a gold bracelet, and kept on walking. “All the attention’s on the Ruza now. But I bet someday, it’s going to be replaced just like these.”

“Well, which one of these is going to get a new home?”

“Even though they don’t get a lot of attention anymore, somebody’s gonna notice if we steal an important one.” He shook his head at a large assortment of gems on main display. “We’re choosing something that people won’t miss.”

You made your way to the corner of the room, where the display lights weren’t as bright, where the display cases weren’t clean. A sapphire tiara caught your eye. You ran your finger along the glass case, leaving a clearer line.

“A tad dusty.” You observed. “Probably hasn’t had any love since its revealing.”

He strode over next to you, and observed the case. “’S nice.” He circled the case, looking around for any security measures. “Do you see anything to look out for?”

“The pedestal looks different from the newer ones.” You remarked. The displays at the front had a shiny gloss, the glass looked too thick to even cut, and clean as a whistle. Meanwhile the tiara’s pedestal was older, dusty. It looked like no one even bothered to upgrade it since its installment.

Billy took a few more seconds to deduct it.

“I think this is it.” Billy said. “2, or maybe 3 million?”

“The Ruza was 5.”

“The Ruza has 200 sets of eyes on it right now. This one doesn’t.”

You smacked your lips. “Suppose 1.5 million is better than prison.” Your mind went back to the original plan. “Do I still get to steal off Dolores?”

He sniggered at your question. “Right now I just need you to make sure no one comes in here. That, and delete the security footage.” He pointed up at the corner of the room, the red blinking light of a security camera staring back. “So no, you don’t get to steal off Dolores.” You frown in disappointment.

Heavy footsteps suddenly neared the jewelry room. A guard! Billy caught your look of distress.

“But you get to do Plan B.”

And your frown was replaced with an excited grin.

---

“Hey, please!” You run up to the security guard, the click-clacking of your heels echoing in the hallway. You fan yourself, taking shaky breaths as you approach him. “You’ve got to help me!”

“Ma��am, what’s wrong?” He asked, watching you as you wiped away a tear, a trail of mascara streaking down your cheek.

“My earring. It’s missing!” You pointed at your left ear, which was without an emerald stud. “I don’t know where it’s gone. You must help me! Please, please.” You let out another sniffle and sob, adding onto the act.

“Oh uh…” He looked nervous, he didn’t know how to comfort a hysterically wailing woman, losing her mind over a missing earring. “Does anyone else know ab-”

“NO! You mustn’t tell either!” You dabbed away your nervous tears. “You mustn’t tell my husband. He’d be livid!”

“Where’s your h-”

“The banquet hall!” You spat out a little too quickly. “But I don’t dare go in there. Arthur will see its missing! And then… ” You wail loudly, your hands covering your face to muffle it. The security guard looked around uncomfortably, finally settling on awkwardly patting you on the back.

Needless to say, ‘Arthur’ or Billy wasn’t in the banquet hall. Duh. He’s getting his hand on the tiara. And the security guard had been walking too close to the jewelry room. Plan B was that you’d kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of the guard, and delete the footage. And so you had stuffed your left earring in your bra as Billy watched in amusement, and ran out the room in inconsolable tears.

“Maybe it’s in your purse?”

“Don’t be daft!” You shoved your open purse in his face. “I’ve checked!” And that was why you had to, unfortunately, stick the earring down your bra.

“Oh!” You shot up, wiping away another crocodile’s tear. “The cameras! Perhaps you could see where the earring has went!”

“I doubt the cameras can-”

You cut him off with another loud dramatic weep, and a fat tear rolled down your cheek theatrically. “Arthur will never let me hear the end of it. This is all YOUR FAULT!!! The committee will be hearing about this!”

That did it. The guard silently sighed and with a final roll of his eyes, he plastered on a fake smile. “Alright we’ll go check the footage. Please follow me.”

---

Either you played ‘damsel-in-distress’ too well, or the guard was dumber than he let on. He had left you alone in the surveillance room.

The moment you two had entered the room, you cried out for a drink. And the guard, not wanting another tantrum from you, obliged immediately without giving it a second thought. That, or he wanted to get away from your whining.

Again, there was no one else in the room but you. There was a lock system at the door, where you needed an authorization card to get in. Security was probably confident that no one could enter.

You executed the plan immediately. Your fingers danced across the control panel, pulling up the current feed from the jewelry room.

Billy was looking at you, well the camera. You couldn’t help the grin pulling at your lips. He waved up at the camera, knowing that you had probably made it to the surveillance room already.

“Hey there.” You said back, fully knowing that he couldn’t hear you.

You took one last look at his smiling figure before disabling the camera and security measures in the jewelry room. And when Billy saw the red blinking light on the camera go off, he got to work.

For good measure, you deleted the footage that placed the two of you at the scene of the crime. Footage in the hallway which you and Billy had to pass to get to the jewelry room. Footage when the two of you were inspecting the displays. Footage when you ran up to the guard. And of course, footage inside the surveillance room.

You were sure to replace the missing footage with stills, as to make it look like it hasn’t been tampered with.

And... Done!

You took a breath of relief, leaning back into a chair.

“I’ve done my part, Billy. Now it’s all up to you.”

---

After chastising the poor security guard for not finding your tiny earring on the cameras, you left with a huff and headed for the banquet hall. If things went off without a hitch, Billy would be right there waiting for you.

But he wasn’t. Though you were sure he wasn’t caught or anything.

No alarms had gone off. No security guards have ran to the jewelry room. No blond man had been tased and handcuffed. That was enough to reassure you. For now.

You head towards the hor d’oevres table anxiously, stuffing down a bruschetta in an attempt to calm yourself. You took a quick once-over of the large room, but there was no sign of him still.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn around rather excitedly, expecting to see Billy. Instead, you were met with the cold and calculating eyes of Dolores. Your shoulders drooped with disappointment, but you plastered on a smile nonetheless.

“Charlotte.” She smacked her thin lips. “Where’s Arthur?”

“He’s g-”

“Oh dear, has he gotten sick of you already?”

A sly smile accompanied the nasty remark. You bit down on your lip to keep yourself from throwing all of the curse words in existence at her.

“But not to worry. A pretty thing like you.” She stared you down head to toe, tutting. “But I think if you scarf down another bruschetta, I’m afraid that dress of yours won’t be able to contain anymore.”

OH! You fumed quietly, purposely taking another hor d’oevre from the tray with a flourish.

“I don’t appreciate your passive aggression, Dolor-”

“Why I’m just stating facts now, dear. No need to get upset.”

A silent stare-down ensued. Dolores, judgy and critical; you, silent and furious.

“If I may ask Dolores,” You start. “How much money does your husband’s company rake in per year?”

She suddenly threw her head back in shrill laughter, as if you had said the funniest joke she’s ever heard. “My dear, if you’re comparing that, I’m afraid you’ve already lost.”

You scoffed. “Humor me.”

She tossed her curls back with pride. “At least a billion a year.” She boasted with a conceited smile on her face. “Why do you ask?”

You mirrored her smile. “Then you’re living proof that all the money in the world can’t buy you class.”

You took a big bite of another piece of bruschetta in front of her, savoring the taste. The offended look on her face added a satisfactory zest to your bite. The red on her cheeks resembled that of the cherry tomatoes on your snack.

While Dolores struggled to form words, you noticed Billy enter the banquet hall. He was fidgeting with his suit jacket, arm placed strategically over the outside of his pocket.

He caught your eye, and nudged discreetly at his pocket, then the hallway.

Dolores suddenly grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to look back at her. “This is extremely disrespectful. You’ll regret messing with me and my name. My husband will be hearing about this.”

“I don’t even know your last name.” You dusted off the crumbs. “Is it Malfoy?”

“But I know yours, Charlotte Hallowell. And I’m asking you to leave.”

You laugh. “Gladly. Oh and, remember that name.” You brushed past her towards Billy. “The woman you chastised for being in a happy marriage.”

“Watch it, Hallowell.”

You stopped in your tracks and looked at her over your shoulder. “I’m just stating facts now, Dolores dear. No need to get upset.”

And with a final grin, you strut off to Billy, much to the fury of Dolores. You were greeted by his curious smile.

“What was all that? She looks like she’s about to explode.” He offers you his free arm.

“Just teaching someone a lesson.” You laced your hand in his. Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you get it?”

He nodded, fingers tapping on his pocket. There was a barely noticeable bump, but it was scattered, definitely didn’t take the form of a tiara. You questioned that.

“Had to break it into smaller parts. More discreet.”

You nodded. Makes sense, all you needed were the gems on the tiara. It didn’t matter if it was whole or not.

“But it was a lot stiffer than I thought.” He subtly turned over the hand covering his pocket. A napkin was bundled in his hand, it was stained red. He discreetly moved it to the side, revealing a gash on the inside of his palm. There were wisps of dried blood around it, hastily wiped. The gash looked red and angry.

“Dear God, Billy!” You whisper-shouted at him, suddenly stopping in your tracks to rummage through your purse. “Let me ge-”

“Not now. Not here. Keep walking.” With his voice hushed, he turned his hand over like nothing ever happened. His arm tugged on yours to keep walking.

“You’re b-”

“Later.” He insisted. “The sooner we leave the better.”

You didn’t argue with that. The two of you left the banquet hall, fortunately, without a problem. And it was at the valet, waiting for the car, where you realized the two of you didn’t plan for what happens after the heist.

Perhaps you may work together again. Or maybe you’ll take your share of the money, and part ways.

Your heart, unbeknownst to you, ached at the possibility that this might be the end. And so your grip on his forearm tightened.

---

It wasn’t until after Billy had drove the car out onto the main road, that you two could let out a huge breath of relief. You immediately hunch down into a more comfortable position, kneading your back which was sore from standing up as straight as a plank the entire night.

“Wow.” You sigh. “You know I actually anticipated a lot more Mission Impossible out of this.”

“I only wish my other heists have gone this smoothly.” Billy removed his injured hand carefully from the wheel, leaving a small stain there. “Do we have any ointment or bandages in the kit?”

“Hold on.” You pulled out a small box from the back seat, looking through it. “Bandages yes. Ointment no.”

“That’ll do for now.” He sticks out his hand to you, but with his eyes still focusing on the road. “If you don’t mind…?”

“You’re going to need to disinfect it.” Your fingers wrapped gently around his wrist, guiding it into the light. “God knows how long the tiara’s been polished.”

“You said there’s no ointment.”

“There’s a convenience store not so far away. We’ll go there.”

“In these clothes?”

“We’ll be quick.”

“Fine.” He took a quick glance at you examining his palm. “But can you wrap up the cut? Bandage it or something. At least to stop it from bleeding out.”

You nodded, returning your focus to his wound.

Up close right underneath the dim light in the car, you could see how rough and calloused his hand was. The concealer on his knuckles, just slightly wearing off to reveal the tattoos underneath. Tiny scars dotted along his thick fingers, from scrambling up too rough of walls or ledges. They left small white dashes that were barely visible.

“(Y/N), if you could just stop my bleeding instead of caressing my fingers, that would be gr-”

“Eyes on the road, tosser.”

---

You had just finished up bandaging his hand when he pulled into the parking lot of the convenience store. You were careful to not slam the car door shut on your silk gown. Billy watched, entertained, as you lifted up your dress to walk, like a proper princess.

“Don’t laugh.” You bunched up the bottom of the dress, kicking off some material with your heels. “You wouldn’t want to get this dress dirty if you knew how much it was.”

“I paid for it.”

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to go to a convenience store dressed like you were going to the Oscars. Two people smoking outside the door gave you and Billy some funny looks. You avoided their curious stares while continuing to struggle with you dress.

“(Y/N), this is hard to watch.”

Billy started to crouch down behind you, collecting the flowy material in his larger than yours hands. He ignored the stings in his palm and lifted it up like a cape, or like a really long bridal veil.

“Hurry on in.” He stood up. “Floor inside is definitely cleaner than tarmac.”

You blinked at him with large eyes. You quickly whip your head to the direction of the store, hiding the tinge on your cheeks that just barely showed up. Shrugging it off, you nodded your head in response.

“Right.”

You headed towards the store, walking slow enough so that Billy could keep your pace steadily. As soon as you stepped in, the lone cashier slightly widened his eyes at you and Billy’s fancy get up, but didn’t say anything else. ‘Beat It’ by Michael Jackson blasted through the speakers.

“Is the floor okay?”

His voice was right beside your ear, his hot breath fanning your cheek. His deep voice a sudden contrast with the loud music. You instinctively bit down on your lip in response.

“Yeah, you can put it down.”

He carefully let down your dress, bending down to smooth out any wrinkles that have formed. You smiled at this, heart fluttering.

“Thank you.” You suddenly whispered. “Thank you so much.”

“’S nothing. No need to be so grateful.” He laughed, brushing it off. “You look great!”

If he had just stayed one more second before leaving abruptly to get the ointment, he would’ve noticed your face fall with disappointment. You had so much more to say to him.

But you digress. There was a time and place for everything. And the doorway of a 24-hour store while a cashier looked on from behind a comic book was neither.

While he looked over the variety of medications on the shelves, you chose to browse through the refrigerated beverage section.

Deep green bottles catch your eye. Bottles of beer stored neatly in the fridge, the same one that you had served Billy months ago.

“Okay alright.” He pursed his lips and gave you a twenty. “I’ll buy a beer. But I want to talk to you, alright? It’s about the ring.”

You glared daggers at him, trying to see if he was just playing if you. Maybe he’s finally come to his senses and has decided to give you ring.

“Fine.” You said. “Hold on.”

You came back with a warm bottle of beer and sat down, pocketing the change. It was the least he could do for you. You shoved the bottle towards him. “Well?”

He shot you a look before he started talking. “Look I’m very sorry to have left you behind like that. I’m glad you got out fine, yeah?”

“Good, thanks.” You mumbled. It was nice, but not quite what you wanted to hear. “So I’ll be taking the ring now.”

“W-What? No?!” Billy looked almost baffled. “I already pawned it off! Where do you think the money for this disgustingly warm beer came from? And the ring is rightfully mine, by the way.”

A/N: I use the word ‘ointment’ a lot, I’m sorry. I hate it too. It sounds too much like ‘moist’. I can’t, for the love of baby yoda, think of a more suitable word. Also I’m thinking the beer bottles as Heineken because it suits the mood board I made and its green like Ben’s eyessss, but this is not sponsored obviously, I just like the green. Also Billy in the store, is inspired by Ben Hardy at 7-11 after the Oscars so just imagine that :3. Alright, back to the story. yeet~

A light bulb went off atop your head- an idea. You grabbed two cold bottles straight from the fridge, and trudge towards the cashier counter, where Billy was already paying for a bottle of ointment. ((im so sorry lol))

The two bottles thudded against the counter and you looked up at Billy expectantly.

“What?”

“As a small celebration!” You nudged the bottled closer. “It’s just one bottle each. I’ll even pay you back if you want me to.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s no need.” Billy remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The confused cashier looked back and forth between the two of you. “You’ve had quite a bit of champagne already tonight.”

“Oh you’re no fun.” You push the bottles in front of the cashier and looked at him instead. “We’ll buy these.”

---

“What are the beers for, really?” He asked, both of you getting in the car.

“Fine, an apology. For the crappy warm beer I gave you a few months back.” You admitted. “It’s an apology.”

“It’s not really if I’m paying for them.”

You shoved him playfully in his seat. “Then it’s a thanks.”

“A thanks?”

“I meant what I said inside the store, Billy. Thank you so much.” You put heavy emphasis on the ‘so’. You had on a sincere face, trying your best to express your genuine gratitude for all that he’s done for you. But you were still met with his puzzled stare.

“It’s just a dress, (Y/N)” He laughed. “I mean it’s expensive but it’s j-”

“NO! I mean…” You trailed off, taking a few seconds to think of what to say. Billy looked questioningly at you the whole time.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname he’d decided to call you.

“Okay can we find somewhere we could talk? Have a drink?” You pointed at the two bottles in the cup holders. “A car isn’t going to cut it.”

His lips creased with a soft smile. “I tell you what.” He put the bottle of ointment ((sigh)) into your hands. “Fix up the cut for me, and I know exactly where we can go.”

No words were spoken on the way there. The silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Only the occasional hiss of pain from Billy or a check-in from you temporarily broke the silence while you cleaned and re-bandaged his wound.

“It’s alright.” You said quietly, finishing up the job with medical tape. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better now, thanks to you.” Billy smiled at you warmly, and you knew he meant it with every word. Your smile followed his, only bigger.

The car had stopped and Billy got out before you. You didn’t know where you were, or at least you weren’t familiar with this area. But you weren’t complaining.

It was gorgeous up here. Yes, up.

You two were on a sort of hill, overlooking the city. No buildings or other people around, not bustling with the sound of traffic and loud chatter. You and Billy were probably the only people within the mile radius. It was quiet. And peaceful.

The closest light source was from a solitary streetlight a few feet away.

Billy was sat on a nearby bench. He patted on the seat next to him, brandishing the two bottles of beer you had bought earlier. You gladly accepted, making yourself comfortable.

Even in the darkness you could see the outline of his sharp features, see how handsome he was. The distant city lights reflected in his emerald orbs, and his plump lips curved in a small smile as he handed you your bottle.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked.

---

A/N: Yes basically thats the end of part 2. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE like, reblog or tell me what you think. IT MEANS SO MUCH! it would make my whole day. I can’t promise you when 3 is coming out, but i’m trying oml.

Tags:

@pippin248 @takemetoneverland420 @queenlover05 @sjeunhaelover

#6u!billy x reader #6u!four x reader #6 underground #ben hardy #borhap cast #bohemian rhapsody #queen #roger taylor #ben!roger taylor #billy x reader

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luna-almighty-god · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort a Little Dream N°10 [Once upon a time...]

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Careful, there are explicit scenes in this story (violence) !Have a good read!

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

[Once upon a time, he would have given anything to keep it that way.]

[ All given to continue their daily lives as he liked it. ]

[Until I realized, with poorly concealed horror…]

[That all his happiness was a lie.]

Dream flickers, throat dries up. He kept his eyes glued to the ground, unable to face his brother, unable to face his words.

“... The multiversal ellipse... ?” he blew gently as his hands began to shake in anguish.

[ Chuckles ]

[He wished we'd never told him about it again.]

Nightmare himself was struggling to look up. His soul and spirit seemed for once to be on the same wavelength as they shouted in a common cry "Shut up, don't talk about it".

But the nightmare master had no choice:

“Yes, the multiverse ellipse. It's going to happen in a couple of days.”

Dream piteously swallowed his saliva, his fingers coming to play with the bottom of his tunic while his voice became even lower:

“...why... are you talking to me about this... ?”

Flashes were coming at him. Bits of distant memories, too distant, which nevertheless kept a certain clarity in his mind. He and his brother, the rare times when an ellipse had appeared, when they had united, mingled, to the point of merging into a being of light and darkness.

It was by instinct that he backed down:

“...it was you who didn't want to talk about it anymore…”

Yes, it was Nightmare who had put an end to their complicity, who claimed they didn't want to hear about this 'stupid ellipse' anymore. But the guardian of the nightmares regretted it, felt terrible about it, because he was now aware of the magnitude of his words, of the impact that this decision must have had on his twin.

“Dream... I'll be honest. The black apples are consuming you much faster than I feared.”

The Dream Keeper hiccupped, finally raising his face towards his brother to reveal his tear-fogged eyes. This sight petrified Nightmare, who had to use violence to not let his negativity implode.

“They... they're gonna turn me? Or kill me? Dream asked in panic.

- ... I don't know how much I owe. I just... (Sighs) They should have turned you a long time ago. You should have become like Shattered. I don't understand... why it didn't happen. Why you're still... you.”

Nightmare was feeling fragile. Fragile and helpless. He hated to be misunderstood and feared the moment when the situation would turn more dramatic, when they would reach a real point of no return. But for the time being nothing was at stake, and he preferred to bury in a corner of his mind the threat uttered by Error.

“Dream, I'd like to get your approval for an idea. An idea that could save you.”

The little dream looked away:

“... Why do you want to save me?

- ... ...l...

- ... You don't make sense, Nightmare... You go from one idea to another without any explanation... You let me know that you hate me, that you want me gone... Then why are you helping me?”

Nightmare was about to respond but the retreating movement of his twin interrupted him.

Dream lowered his eyes once again, without being aware of the darkness that was taking over his being even more, of his negative feelings which, although mastered until then, were only asking to explode once again, in a much more violent way than facing Ink, Cross, or Nightmare himself.

The sweet dream became icy, his pupils suddenly darkening, accompanying the tension that weighed down the room:

“You've always hated me. What's happening to you? Are you remorseful, you, the master of bad emotions? Or are you waiting for me to feel better so you can stab me in the back?”

Nightmare hiccupped, opening his one eye to his perfectly justified accusations.

Yes, at one time, he probably would have done that. But not anymore. Not now that he's realized what a fucking idiot he is.

He took a step towards his brother:

“Dream...

- Back off.”

The nightmare stopped abruptly, with an unpleasant chill. He gauged his twin with his eyes, wondering for a moment before he was certain that yes, Dream's voice had become more hoarse, full of danger.

[ Negativity was gaining on him again. ]

Nightmare gritted his teeth, realizing their time was running out. If his brother started to give up, to let go of negative emotions, he probably wouldn't make it to the ellipse.

“Dream, I...

- ... wants to sequester me? Tie me up, lock me up, torture me so I'll never see the light of day again? Do you want to keep me in your castle like your precious trophy, to tell you that you will have been the best because it is YOU who will have defeated the guardian of positivity, and not Shattered? Ahah... ahahah... ahahah..”

The giggle froze Nightmare, whose body suddenly became heavy. His soul squeezed painfully as his throat tightened, as he felt a deaf terror take hold of him, exactly the same way as when Dream was in a coma, that he had given him a fit of insanity before shouting his four truths to him.

He wanted to challenge his twin again, to deny what he had said, but the laughter of his brother petrified him, and he thought he was dying of fright when his sweet Dream, his little dream, his adorable brother, raised his head to plant a lifeless gaze in his direction:

“Ahahahah! Oh my God, that's hilarious ! Why are you looking at me like that Night ? You should be happy, you have everything you wanted ! You even managed to get my soul, that's to say !”

Nightmare is swallowing. So Dream noticed it? At the same time, hard to ignore when your soul is missing...

“What are you going to do with it now? Display it in your art gallery? Attempt to absorb it, unless you want to torture me with it? Because, if you're going to sequester my body and my mind, you might as well go all the way and go straight to the source of my life! Huh? HUH? Ah... AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!”

The nightmares are receding.

[It wasn't Dream]

He repressed a sob.

[It couldn't have been Dream!]

He wiped his eye brightly, lest the tears escape him.

[ Was this what he looked like when he was corrupted? Was it the spectacle he had given to his twin, the day he had swallowed his black apples, when he had metamorphosed in front of him? ]

Goddamn, he was still in charge of some bullshit? Of course he did, and life kept reminding him of it every fucking second of his existence.

But right now, he didn't give a shit. His remorse and regrets, he'd deal with them later, he'd take them in his face another time!

“DREAM! I won't do anything to you! Neither to your body nor to your soul! I will never hurt you again! I won't let anyone else hurt you-

- Mercy then?”

Nightmare blinked, realizing that Dream had cut it off without the slightest hesitation, with a look of false intrigue:

“Is the great master of misfortune then capable of mercy? After all, it's a negative emotion, I suppose it's normal.

- I-it's not...

- So that's it, you figured fighting a miserable being wasn't good for you? How would you like to have a worthy opponent again? Even though... Ahah... ahahahahah, have I ever lived up to it? I have my doubts! Why don't you go see Ink, HE is up to the task! He will fight you properly! After all, the Keeper of the Multiverse always puts his duty before his friends! I guess that's what it's like to be soulless too, isn't it p-”

The slap cut him clean off, as did the pain on his cheek.

Dream remained stunned, gently resting his palm on his painful face, before looking at Nightmare who was standing very close to him, trying to understand if ... if his twin had just slapped him good and proper.

“...you can talk about me as you please," the master of woe ....whispered. But don't even deign to insult Ink. - ....What's that? Why shouldn't I? WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT THIS SO-CALLED FRIEND?! HE WHO SHOULD HAVE... - WHO SHOULD HAVE COMFORTED YOU, RIGHT? WHO SHOULD'VE SUPPORTED YOU, SEE YOU WERE HURTING?! INK IS THE KEEPER OF THE MULTIVERSE! HE'S GOT A LOT OF PROBLEMS TO DEAL WITH! AND UNLIKE YOU, HE CAN'T FEEL EMOTIONS! HE CAN BARELY FEEL HIS OWN! HOW COULD YOU EXPECT HIM TO KNOW HOW BAD YOU ARE IF YOU'VE ALWAYS…”

...hidden. The twins widened their eyes. Dream acted the same way as Nightmare. From beginning to end.

[Hiding his feelings] [Cracking] [Corrupting] [Losing it]

Dream turns pale:

“No.....”

He took his head in his hands:

“No... no, no, no, no!”

He couldn't... he... Did he really blame Ink? How long had he...? No... no, those weren't his words, not his initial thoughts! Why was he blaming the others? Why was he picking on others?!

Nightmare took his hand:

“Dream... - I didn't want to! - I know you didn't. - I never meant...! - I know you didn't. - I DON'T THINK THAT!”

His brother pulled at him, squeezed him with all his might:

“I know Dream.”

[He knew that better than anyone] [The apples crept into their minds like vile snakes, whispering nonsense, nonsense, nonsense] [They were corrupting their feelings. They diverted them from those they loved.]

Dream sobbed:

“I don't want to be like that...! - ... I know you don't. - I want to get better...!”

Nightmare kissed him gently on the cheekbone:

“I'll take care of it…”

The young dream closed the eyes from which escaped his bitter tears. His trembling palms clutched his brother even harder:

“I'm afraid Night…”

The nightmare placed his forehead against his own, surrounding his twin with his magic and tentacles, embracing him, enclosing him in a warm and protective cocoon:

“...you don't have to see fear.”

[I'm here] [I'll protect you.]

*** ***

The living room was plunged into an oppressive silence. Only the particularly cliché and annoying ticking of the clock could be heard in the vastness of the room, and Horror hated himself for thinking he wanted to mess the place up.

He couldn't get angry, let his blood pressure go through the roof. He was at Plum's after all. And by the way, his adorable Plum was sitting next to him on the couch, gently holding his hand and caressing his palm with the tip of his phalanx.

“It's going to be dangerous... ?” asked the host distractedly.

Horror shrugged his shoulders:

“I don't know.”

Nightmare had not specified anything, having been satisfied with the minimum information: to carry out a ritual and to cure Dream.

That's easy.

Much too easy.

“... He wouldn't have summoned everyone if it wasn't dangerous, Horror confessed softly, shaking his boyfriend's hand more tightly.

- ... And what? I have to expect... not see you again?

- ... I don't know, Plum. I really don't know.”

He didn't want to lie or give false hope. He just... wanted to let him know. Prepare him for all eventualities. Oh, it wasn't the first time either of them had come close to death, but... Nightmare had also asked Ink and Error to be present. To ask for support from the Creator and the Destroyer, it meant that the danger was far greater than they had seen so far.

Plum came to curl up against him, enjoying their tender cuddle.

“...I could come with you...

- No, sweetheart... you stopped being a bad guy on purpose to live a quiet life. We don't have to drag you into this.

- But I'm gonna miss you...

- I'm gonna miss you too…”

They exchanged a feverish look as Plum hesitated, words burning in his throat. 'Promise me you'll come back to me,' he said. But wasn't it a selfish request? Of course Horror wanted to come back, and if he couldn't... it wouldn't be of his own free will, of course. And Plum didn't want his soul mate to be filled with regret in case... he couldn't keep his so-called promise.

“... I love you, Horror.”

The cannibal twitches, his throat tied, before coming to gently kiss his boyfriend.

“I too, Plum... I love you like crazy…”

So many unspoken, silent promises...

[I'll be back]

[I'll get back to you.]

*** ***

Killer looked at the remote control between his fingers for a long time, without having the reflex to turn on the television. But it was the right time: he always watched a stupid show when he was depressed, just to take his mind off things. But not today. Today... he had an empty mind, as if his thoughts didn't want to flow any more.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dust came to him, sitting next to him to watch the black screen.

A short silence during which Killer put the remote control on the table:

“... I don't know about that.

- You thinking about the mission?

- ...not really. It's going to be the same as always: dangerous. And as always, we're going to risk our lives. And as always, there's no guarantee we're coming back.”

Dust raised an archway:

“... You look even more depressed than before. I thought I was getting better...

- ... I'm thinking Color.”

Dust tensed gently:

“Color? That bastard?”

Killer looked down, playing distractedly with the sleeve of his sweater as if to give himself some kind of a hold:

“... He hurt me, you know... But, um…”

He hardly swallowed his saliva, feverish:

“...I lied to you... he's not the one who broke it off…”

Dust blinked, surprised, before coming a little closer to his friend, coming to put a hand on his shoulder:

“Is that you? Why is that?

- ... I panicked, okay? I-I just... I thought I was ready to leave you, to go live with him, to be like Plum! But, um…”

He clenched his fists, trembling:

“ ... I can't do this... you're my family, and... I don't want to leave. I don't feel ready, I…”

Dust sighed softly, came to caress his skull to comfort him when he felt himself on the verge of sobbing:

“I love Color... I love him with all my fucking madness... But...

- You'd rather leave him than burden yourself with a long-distance relationship.

- ... It's stupid, huh... ?

- Totally. Why didn't you offer him a place to live in the castle?”

Killer straightened his head, outraged:

“What? But he would never have agreed!

- Did you even ask him?

- Of course not!

- So what do you know? Seriously, Kill', this guy's always been crazy about you! He even went so far as to fight Nightmare for you! Then living with us must be the least of his worries!”

Killer lowered his eyes again, in terrible shame. He cast a doubting glance at Dust:

“...do you think... I should go back to him?

- Do you want to?”

The one with the round soul hesitated... before he nodded his head timidly.

Dust smiled and gave him a little pat on the shoulder:

“So yeah, go to him.”

Killer was smiling again, but there was no time to get up and a desperate Cross entered the room furiously, only to fall down on the couch beside them:

“What's the matter with you? wondered Dust in front of his dark face.

- ... According to Error, we have to expect the ritual to fail.

- Great... We're not going to make any old bones.”

Killer chuckled and elbowed him:

“Please, it's to be expected. Of course we were going to bump into a bone!”

Cross the gunshots with his eyes:

“Because you think it's funny? Dream's in danger, Nightmare's on the edge... We don't have time for your stupid jokes! You don’t even hit my funny bone!!”

Nice try, which was rewarded by the smiles of Killer and Dust before they came to put their arms around the monochrome's shoulders.

"We're going to get through this, said the skeleton of dust. I mean, we've been through worse.

- It's clear! approved the one with the black marks. And then we'll celebrate in front of 'Isn't it Romantic'!

- Oh no, you're giving us a break with your shitty movie!”

They left in a frenzy of laughter, their souls still oppressed.

This may have been the last time they took advantage of it...

This feeling was supported by the arrival of Dream and Nightmare. The twins looked terrible, marked by tiredness and tears, but were doing violence to make themselves look good. The bad ones had the decency to make no remarks and hugged each other a little to allow the other two to join them on the couch.

“Are we watching a show?” Killer suggested.

A shrug of the shoulders from his comrades. He took this as a yes and retrieved the remote control, finally turning on the TV to look for some entertainment. If possible something funny, to make everyone smile again.

Nightmare, positioned between Cross and Dream, gently passed a tentacle around their waists to gently bring them back against him, surprising the other two who had no hesitation in curling up in this warm embrace.

Dust threw a light glance at them, before smiling fleetingly and turning his attention back to the screen, his soul nevertheless tight. He had done his best, the three of them didn't need him anymore ...

He had obviously forgotten that twins are capable of feeling other people's emotions.

“Dust, you come next to me... ?” rose timidly the voice of the keeper of dreams.

Surprised, the skeleton of dust looked at him, only to find that Cross and Nightmare were also looking at him. Caught short and embarrassed, he grunted a slight "Yeah" and stood up, coming to take his place next to Dream, before a tentacle grabbed him in turn and brought him closer to the trio.

Sticking to the guardian of good emotions, Dust swallows, his face getting slightly impregnated just like Dream's, before the latter chuckles:

“I like being against you.”

This ended Dust, whose face turned tomato-coloured, wrenching a snigger from the other bad guys.

Killer was touched when he saw his four friends like that. He hoped with all his heart that he could have such a fusional relationship with Color... Maybe soon. Very soon.

Finally, when Horror came home - at a rather late hour, it must be said - he discovered with amazement the rest of the gang slumped on the couch, sleeping against each other in front of the broadcast of an episode of Steven Universe.

It touched him as much as it hurt him: he prayed that this would not be the last time they would see them all like this ...

*** ***

Ink checked one last time that he had not forgotten anything. His memory was playing tricks on him, and while normally he didn't have much trouble with it, this time was different. Not that this was the most dangerous mission he had ever been on, far from it. But it was no less important, especially since Dream's life was at stake.

Dream... he hadn't spoken to him, hadn't even seen him since they fought. But Ink had never stopped thinking about him, about his friend, about that sweet little guardian who had never abandoned him, not even when the Creator had betrayed everyone, had stopped taking his vials just for fun, just to get on the 'wrong' side, so wrong side there was.

Right and wrong were abstract notions but, for Ink, Dream was definitely a 'good' person. Someone you could rely on, who trusted anyone without judging them, accepting even the worst of criminals at his side.

Dream was his friend, it didn't matter what other people thought, see what Dream himself thought.

And Ink wasn't going to let that friend die. Not without trying.

“Inky, are you ready?” Error questioned him as he entered the room.

The painter took a final breath. It was the big moment and it would have been a lie to say Ink was confident.

The Creator turned to his companion, determined, his Carmine wards filled with determination.

“Yes.”

[I'm ready]

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Dreamtale -> Joku

Shattered Dream -> ErroredArtist’s

Cross -> Jakei

Error -> Lover The Piggies

Ink -> Comyet / Myebi

Dust -> Ask DustTale

Killer -> Rahafwabas

Color -> Superyoumma

Sugar Plum -> undertale Community (formerly NSFWShamecave ?)

#Hurt / Comfort #comfort a little dream #dream #Dreamtale #nightmare #bad sanses #feel bad #sugar plum #horror #dust #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #undertale

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hollandtomholland · 5 years ago

Text

Like I Love You - T.H. - Part One

---> Roommate!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: This is the first part of a trope-heavy gift for you all, which I really hope you like. Thank you so much for all the love on the teaser and my other work, you guys are seriously the best. Also it’s my birthday so if you want to give me a gift, feedback would be very very very lovely. Much love as always x

Summary: The flirty friendship you’ve always had with your roommate Tom is threatened when a game of spin the bottle gets a little out of hand. Bed sharing, mutual pining, light angst, all the good stuff.

Word count: 5K

--->

Most people who fall asleep alone would be alarmed upon waking up next to someone; not you.

Not with Tom Holland as a roommate.

You’re not sure how long he’s been here, but he’s fast asleep. His face is pressed into the pillow on what would normally be the empty side of the bed, sheets tucked right up to his chin. Well, that explains why you’re so cold over on your side. He’s a chronic sheet stealer, always taking up more than his fair share of the space whenever he crawls into bed with you - which is often. There’s a different excuse for every time, ranging from “Your mattress is more comfortable” to “I just got lonely”, which so far is the closest to an honest answer.

A well aimed kick to the shins is enough to rouse him from sleep, eyelids fluttering open to gaze sleepily at you. He lets out a contented sigh, stretching out even further as he blinks in the light. “No need to dream about me anymore, I’m right here” he drawls, propping himself up on his elbow as he leans over you.

“Yeah, very funny. What’cha doing in my bed?”

Lifting your head from the pillow, you squint bleary eyed at the face looming above you. Pillow creases decorate his cheek, his hair a just-woke-up mess of curls that fall into his eyes as he grins lazily at you. “Well good morning to you too” he murmurs, eyes shimmering with delight as he watches you scrunch up your face at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Good morning Tom. What are you doing in my bed?” you ask, rolling your eyes.

“Like I said, making your dreams come true” he says, obstructive as always. “Besides, the heating in my room is broken again. You don’t want me to freeze to death, do you?”

It’s a poor excuse, but you’re too tired to argue. “I guess not. What time is it? I was planning on heading to the shops to grab a few things for tonight”

You’re referring to the party the two of you are hosting this evening, a little get together to make the most of a rare free weekend. Tom leans even further over you to grab your phone from your bedside table, his body weight nearly crushing you for a brief moment. “Get off!” you protest, swatting at his chest as he checks the time. “And would it kill you to wear a shirt when you’re in my space?”

“Ahh, but this is all for you” he smirks, flopping back down onto the mattress. He runs his hands up and down his bare torso, tilting his chin in the classic fuckboy nod. “And It’s still early, we can get another couple hours of sleep in before we have stuff to do”

“Fair enough” you tell him, burying your face back into the pillow. “You going back to your own room, or…?”

Tom simply shakes his head and winks at you, confident in the knowledge that you’re not going to kick him out of bed; you never do. You sigh, resigned to the situation. “Fine, as long as you stick to your side”.

“You sure you don’t want me to get a little closer?” he teases, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. “I know you want it, don’t lie”.

“Damn, you’ve got me. Snuggle on up, dream guy!”

“Really?”

“No. Go to sleep” you groan, too tired to think of a better comeback.

He chuckles, brushing a stray curl out of his face as he snuggles into the sheets. “You love me really”.

You have nothing to say to that. This is partially because you know better than to keep arguing with Tom – the two of you could go on exchanging quips forever, and honestly you just want to get back to sleep.

Mainly, though, it’s because he’s right.

You really do love him.

That attraction, that little spark that hangs undeniably between the two of you? It’s always been there, ever since the first day you met. It’s not just you either; you’ve seen the way he looks at you, you can hear the slivers of truth that hide amongst the teasing. You both know it, the elephant in the room your constant companion for the past two years. It’s even a long running joke amongst your friends, every social gathering filled with references and allusions being made to your ‘will they won’t they’ situation.

The point of the joke, though, is that you won’t. The idea of you two being a real couple is laughable, something to poke fun at and tease you with. You’ve even earned the title of ‘mum and dad’, seen as the de facto leaders of your circle of friends. It stings, certainly, but you’ve learnt to simply roll your eyes and play along.

It’s a game, almost, one that continues even when you and Tom are alone – especially when you and Tom are alone. He throws around the flirty banter and suggestive comments with little caution, and you’ve been known to give as good as you get, but there’s always a line.

And that line is never crossed, no matter how close you may get at times.

To cross it would be to ruin your friendship, to enter new and uncertain territory. And besides, with the constant barrage of naysayers who know you so well, you both know better than to do the unthinkable. So a joke it remains, your real feelings never acknowledged.

Right now, with him lying so close to you, it’s hard not to dwell on how frustrating this situation is. You turn over and bury your face in the pillow, hoping that sleep comes quickly. Tonight will no doubt be yet another bombardment of jokes at your expense, but at least you’re used to it by now. Nothing a few strong drinks can’t take care of.

***

You wake up before Tom does, managing to leave the apartment and run your errands before he even wakes up. The day passes fairly quickly, and before long it’s time to prepare for the party.

You’re still getting ready in your room when Haz turns up, with a case of beer in his hand and a warm backslapping hug for Tom. “Good to see you mate!” he says, slinging an arm round his best mate’s shoulders. “Where’s the Mrs?”

You hear Tom laugh, before he calls out to you. “Y/N, light of my life! You coming out any time soon?”

You poke your head around the doorframe, giving Haz a friendly wave before raising an eyebrow at Tom. “Nearly ready, darling, have some patience”.

By the time you’re actually ready the flat is already filling up with guests, a mix of work friends, old friends, mutual friends, and everyone in between. You greet people as you pass through, though your smile turns to a grimace as you spot a familiar face sat on your sofa. Isaac, who despite being an old friend of both you and Tom, is someone whose company you’d rather not have tonight. He’s always been the ringleader of your least favourite long running joke, taking it just a little too far and always managing to rub you the wrong way. Tom seems to still like him, though, so you’ve said nothing about it. As you past he gives you a nod by way of a greeting which you return, before your attention is caught by your name being called from across the room.

Tom stands in the doorway to the kitchen, holding up an empty bottle of off-brand vodka. “Where’d you hide the new bottle?” he asks, tossing it from hand to hand.

“New bottle? I didn’t buy any, didn’t realise we were out”.

“Aw seriously?” Tom groans, pouting. “I definitely told you”.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Isaac standing up to address your friends. “Hey everybody, mum and dad are fighting again!” he calls, before flashing you and Tom a distasteful wink. “Have you guys tried couples counselling?”

His comments provoke a flurry of laughter, and Tom chuckles as he walks over to you. He slings an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, the familiar scent of his aftershave washing over you. “Nothing but a little lover’s tiff” he says, smiling winningly. “I could never say mad at you, baby”.

The pet name stuns you momentarily, spoken so close to your ear that his breath sparks goosebumps across your skin. “Wish I could say the same about you, sweetheart” you retort, extracting yourself from his grasp. Tom loves playing up to the jokes, but for you, it’s starting to get old. You busy yourself chatting to a group of girls from work, grateful for company that isn’t so caught up in your personal life.

***

The night wears on, your apartment seeming impossibly full of people. Most you know well, some you’re barely familiar with, but everyone gets on well enough for the party to feel like a success. Red cups litter the surfaces, empty bottles already stacking up in the kitchen. Somewhere around midnight you find yourself sitting up on the worktop, chatting to Tom and Haz.

“You guys always throw the best parties” Haz says, downing the last few drops of his beer before raising the bottle in a toast. “To mum and dad!”

“To mum and dad” you echo, somewhat begrudgingly.

Haz rolls his empty bottle between his palms, before his eyes suddenly light up. He grins at the two of you, pushing himself to his feet. “I have an amazing idea”.

He continues through to the living room, holding the bottle aloft like a prized trophy. “Hey, guys! Who’s up for something a little old school?” he calls, attracting attention from the other party goers. You and Tom follow close behind, intrigued by his sudden energy. Haz plonks himself down on the ground in front of the sofa, before setting the bottle by his feet. “Ta dah!”

Tom catches on seconds before you do, scrunching his nose up as his best mate waves over the rest of your friends. “Spin the bottle? I don’t know mate, isn’t that - ”

“Fun? Potentially Scandalous?” Haz cuts in, backed up by approving murmurs from around him.

“Kinda High school-ish?” Tom counters.

You nod in agreement. “It’s a little bit Riverdale, don’t you think?”

“So? It’s fun! Come on, get involved” Haz says, patting the empty spaces either side of him. “Unless, of course, Mum and Dad are too chicken?”

Tom scoffs, taking the bait. “No way!” he says defiantly, arms folded across his chest in mock exasperation. “How dare you, in my own home!”

Isaac joins Haz on the floor, leaning back against the sofa. “You sure? Maybe you’re just scared of what you might have to do… who you might have to do”

“Who you might have to kiss, no one’s doing anyone” you correct him, rolling your eyes. Ah, what’s the harm in it. What’s the worst that could happen - you end up kissing someone you’re not into? Yeah, it’ll be fine. “I’m not scared. Let’s do this”.

You take a seat next to Haz, leaving Tom standing a few feet away. There’s a hint of hesitation in him, something holding him back from simply leaping in like you expect him to. “What’s up?” you ask, sensing the impatience of the people around you. Everyone’s itching to get stuck in, forming a circle of tipsy excitement sat on the floor or perched on the furniture.

“Come on, chicken boy, let Fun Tom out to play!” Isaac teases, nudging at the bottle with his shoe.

Tom raises his eyebrows, before removing his jacket and throwing it carelessly across the room. “What’cha saying? Fun Tom never left!”

A drunken cheer erupts from the group as he strides into the circle, taking a seat on the floor across from you. “Who’s starting?”

Haz spins first, landing on a girl you know from work. Their kiss is brief, broken by her nervous laughter as he topples forward and nearly knocks her flat. Her spin lands on one of Tom’s mates, and so on and so on, until it’s a flurry of messy make-outs and hesitant chaste pecks that moves faster than you can keep track of.

Haz was right, you think, this was such a good idea. Everyone is having a great time, whooping and cheering each other on as the bottle picks out pairing after pairing. You’re kissing people left right and centre, boys and girls, embarrassment be damned. Haz gets more than his fair share, and Tom gets a few in too.

Those kisses hold your attention even more than your own. You can’t help but feel a little sting of envy when he locks lips with one of your old school friends for a little longer than you deem comfortable, her hands gripping his shirt with a reluctance to let go.

No matter.

It’s just a game, it’s not real.

Anyway, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen him kissing other girls. He’s always done well for himself on nights out, even before the fame took off. You’re used to it. It’s truly not a big deal.

Honestly its not.

One of Haz’s countless spins lands on Tom, and he launches himself across the floor to plant a series of enthusiastic kisses all over his friend’s face. Tom pushes Haz off with a laugh, wiping his cheeks theatrically with his sleeve. “Down, boy!” he jokes, before reaching out for the bottle and setting it spinning.

Who’s it gonna be this time? The bottle starts to slow, the anticipation building second by second. Hannah, Jamie, Isaac, - slower - Lydia, Sam – stopping – Becca, Kai – Stopped.

You.

Oh.

You were wrong when you’d thought the worst thing that could happen was having to kiss someone you didn’t like.

No.

That’s nothing.

This is the worst thing that could happen – having to kiss someone you do like.

Kissing has never been part of whatever it is that you and Tom have. You’ll cross most other intimate boundaries up to that point, but it’s a line that’s never been crossed and you certainly never wanted it to be crossed in this way – in a stupid game, full of drunken people who think the two of you are just a joke for their amusement.

This is all wrong.

The atmosphere shifts, the whooping and cheering punctuated by stifled laughter and murmured amusement. Oh, they’re loving this. Haz slaps the floor in excitement, filled with pure delight at the thought of what’s about to happen. “Get in there, lovebirds!” he announces, throwing an arm around Tom’s shoulders.

Tom laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Calm down mate, I think you’re getting way too into this” he says, swatting Haz away.

As for you? Well, you have no idea what you should be doing right now.

It’s a lot to process.

Still, you chuckle along with your friends, smiling gamely at the cheers that are more teasing than supportive. Yeah yeah, very funny. The idea of you and Tom kissing is just so fucking funny, isn’t it.

Absolutely hilarious.

“Must we?” you sigh theatrically, looking Tom up and down with a grimace.

“You know you want this” he shoots back, leaning leisurely on the palms of his hands. He’s way too cool about this, looking around at his mates with a cocky grin. His gaze suddenly locks on to yours, and he rolls his eyes as if sharing a joke. There’s a hint of something behind them, something that you recognise, maybe, as wariness. What exactly is he thinking right now?

You pull a face at him, playing along as the room watches your every move. “You wish”.

The line is there for a reason.

“Get on with it!” someone jeers, and you start to feel very uncomfortable.

Tom looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, waiting for permission. “What do you say, sweetheart? Give em what they want?”

It’s just a game, you tell yourself. Maybe you should chill out. Given the context, it would be weird not to kiss him. It’s getting weird already, your friends sharing confused looks as they wait for someone to do something. The longer you two hesitate, the weirder this looks. Let’s get this over with, and then get another drink.

Something strong.

You sigh and shrug, a silent “why not?” that defies all the reasons why the fuck not that spin round and around in your head. The room erupts in another round of cheers, your friends gearing themselves up for what will probably be a hilariously awkward moment for them to add to their favourite running joke. “I can handle it”.

Tom sets his beer down on the floor. “See, I don’t think you can” he says breezily, shuffling across the floor towards you.

“You’re all talk” you smirk, propping yourself up on your knees.

“Exactly!” Haz bellows. “Stop talking and start kissing!”

“We’re waiting!” Isaac adds, tapping his watch impatiently.

You’re grateful for the buzz of alcohol coursing through your veins, swaying ever so slightly as Tom stops inches away from you. He’s so close you can see how blown his pupils are, darkening his eyes to an irresistible molten chocolate. They search your face, a lazy grin on his lips as his hand comes up to gently rest on your waist.

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. Any closer and he’ll be able to feel it.

His nose nudges against your own, and his free hand tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. He’s putting on a show, you realise. Playing up to his audience.

The second his lips meet yours, however, you forget all about the people watching you.

It’s gentle at first, slow and soft and yet at the same time, all consuming. You’re hyper aware of every point of contact, from the warmth of his skin to the way your knees bump against each other as he pulls you in closer. You’re flush against him, the kiss deepening suddenly as he cups your face in his hand.

Oh.

Wow.

You lose yourself in the intensity, his lips pressed against yours with a hint of urgency, a connection that binds the two of you together in the moment. What surprises you even more is how easy it is, your hands moving up to lace themselves in his hair as if the synchronicity of your bodies is second nature. The heat, the passion, the neediness – it’s enough to make you forget where you are entirely.

“Fucking hell, you guys need to get a room!”

Isaac’s interjection shatters the moment, and you’re snapped back to reality.

You’re kissing Tom.

You’re kissing Tom, and it’s all for show.

You pull away, pressing your hands against Tom’s chest to force some distance. He stares back at you with half lidded eyes, lips swollen, fingertips still pressed into the bare skin of your waist. His chest rises and falls under your palms, his cheeks flushed. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t recognise, but it’s gone in a split second as he turns to face his friends with a broad grin.

“That good enough for ya?” he smirks, dropping his hand from your side and shuffling back to his spot. You miss the warmth of his body instantly, nerves still sparking from where his skin touched yours.

“Average, at best” you manage to retort, wiping your lips with the back of your hand for good measure as you sit down again.

Isaac scoffs. “You sure you guys aren’t together? Looked pretty convincing to me”.

Felt convincing, too.

A few of your friends murmur their agreement, others stifling laughter as a few wolf whistles make their opinions clear. “Mum and dad!” Haz cheers, punching his fist in the air.

“No way” Tom says, eyes flicking back to you for a second. They hold your gaze, dark and intense, before dropping back down to the bottle at his feet. “As if”.

Ouch.

It’s an unusually brutal comeback, where you’d usually be expecting him to charmingly play along. The pet names and fake flirting, once annoying, suddenly seem a million times more appealing than whatever this is.

But fine, if that’s how he wants to play this. “Never in a million years” you affirm, suddenly very preoccupied with a loose thread on your skirt.

Isaac laughs, taking a swig from his beer. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. No one in their right mind would think you two should be together, mum and dad need to get a divorce” He quips, sparking off another round of laughter.

Yeah, it’s all a joke.

Just one big joke.

“What mum needs is a drink” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “Wash the taste of that out of my mouth”.

Tom watches you go, a slight frown creasing his brow. He opens his mouth as if to say something and you hesitate for a second, but he quickly looks away and the moment is gone. The game continues around him, but he seems removed somehow. You don’t need to ask him is everything is ok; you know it isn’t.

What just happened?

***

The party continues with no further incident, though you do find yourself avoiding being to close to Tom. A few people try to bring up the kiss, but you always laugh it off with a well-rehearsed eye roll and quickly change the subject.

For a while the sheer volume of people in your house feels like a blessing. There’s plenty to distract you from what just happened, but eventually the crowd starts to thin out. Around four am, the house is quiet. The only one left besides you and Tom is Haz, who’s sat by the front door waiting for his uber to arrive. You’ve already excused yourself to your room, putting off the clean up efforts till tomorrow.

All you want is to fall into bed and drift off into a blissful sleep, giving your frantic mind a rest from the contact replay of that kiss. Maybe it won’t feel like such a big deal when you wake up tomorrow. One thing’s for certain though, you’ll be waking up alone.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. “Hey, Y/N? Are you still awake?”

Tom. “Uh, I’m actually kinda –“

The door opens before you can finish your sentence, the very fact that you’re answering him providing enough of an invitation. He enters the room with his eyes downcast, and it takes a moment before he can look at you.

It’s a strange atmosphere, and you speak first to try and diffuse some of the tension.

“Is Haz still here? I can’t believe it’s this hard to get an uber so late at night”.

Tom nods, looking towards the hallway. “Yeah, think so”.

There’s an awkward pause, and you get the sense that Tom’s not sure of exactly what he’s doing here. Suddenly, though, he looks up with a renewed air of purpose.

“We need to talk about earlier. It was…”

He falters, shakes his head a little. “I mean, that kiss, it felt –“

“Super weird? I know right!” you interrupt, throwing in an eye roll for good measure. Keep up the act; nothing has changed.

He frowns, his nose crinkling. “Not weird, it was like –“

“Kissing your cousin? So messed up” you chime in again, standing up and heading for the door. “I was about to –“

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N, I know you felt it too”.

His tone is jarring, a sudden burst of urgency that stops you in your tracks. This isn’t a side of Tom you’ve seen before, harsh and serious and uneasy.

What’s happening?

He stares at you, wide eyed. Swallows hard. “You felt it too” he repeats, his tone softer as he takes a step towards you. Instinctively you take a step back; distance, emotional and physical. That’s how you do things here.

You don’t do emotions.

“Come on, Tom,” you manage, struggling to look him in the eye. Keep it light and breezy, pretend the elephant in the room is nothing more than a speck of dust. “It was just spin the bottle”

“Just spin the bottle, just spin the – what is it with you!?” he says, exasperated. He throws his hands in the air, moving past you to start pacing around the room. “Even after that – that kiss, you still wanna keep up the act?”

Don’t, Tom.

Don’t cross that line.

“What act? Honestly Tom, you’re acting super -”

“The ‘we’re just friends’ act. The ‘we joke around but none of it means anything’ act. This whole bullshit charade we have going on” he snaps, and suddenly the atmosphere flips.

He’s done it.

It’s out there, now. The topic you’ve never broached, the unspoken truth you never acknowledged. He’s not just crossed the line, he’s thrown himself over it and taken you with him. This is uncharted territory and you’re deeply unprepared to navigate it.

Maybe you can still go back.

It’s worth a try.

“Aw, you let them get in your head, didn’t you? They were just messing with us like always, it’s a joke!” you counter, hoping to diffuse the situation. You’re not ready for this bomb to go off just yet.

“This has nothing to do with them!” he protests, shooting a pained glance in your direction. “This is between us, and you know it’s not a joke. We act like it is, dancing around the subject, but it’s very fucking real to me”

There’s no going back, you realise. Not anymore. There’s no witty one liner you can throw out to ease the tension, no comeback that will reinstate the delicate balance you’ve worked on for the past two years. You take a few steps backwards until your calves hit the edge of the bed, something solid and stable to anchor you as your mind draws a blank.

You’ve never dared imagine what this scenario would be like. Never practiced the right things to say, never ran it through your mind until you were sure of how to handle it. What would be the point? You’ve always been so certain it was never going to happen, and yet here you are.

Tom fixes you with a determined, piercing gaze, lets out a deep and ragged breath.

“Fuck everyone” Tom says, gesturing to the door. “Fuck the jokes, the comments, the cliches. Fuck everyone saying we’d never work together. Fuck all of it, okay?”

Each expletive bursts from his lips coated in anger, but it doesn’t come from a place of aggression. It’s rooted in sheer desperation, his words not a threat but a sincere promise.

“Friends, roommates, whatever… none of that matters”.

He shakes his head, glancing at the open door. With one hand he reaches out to push it shut, never taking his eyes off you even for a second. “Right here, right now, it’s just us. Just two people with a connection. Away from all the things that get in the way and keep us from acknowledging what’s really going on.”

He takes a step towards you, swallowing hard as his eyes lock onto yours. You want to look away but you can’t; this new energy, this passion – it’s magnetic.

“That’s what I want, Y/N. Forget everything out there. It doesn’t exist anymore. We are the only two people in the world and the only thing that defines us is the way we feel about each other.

Tom takes another step towards you, still too far away to touch you but close enough that you can see the desire reflected in his eyes. You know he’s waiting for permission from you, for a sign that you’re finally ready to open yourself up to everything he’s offering. Everything that’s been there since the day you met.

“It’s just Tom,” He says softly, “It’s just you and me. Just us”.

Just us.

This very much feels like a now or never moment.

And it’s so easy, right?

You like him.

You love him.

So why are you still hesitating?

Tom runs a hand through his hair, staring at you with a softness that melts you a little inside. “Say something, Y/N. Please”.

Just a “yes” is all you need. Come on, you can do this. You swallow hard, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. “Tom, I –“

“They fucking cancelled on me again!”

Haz bursts into the room, brandishing his phone in his hand. “Third one in a row who’s done that to me, I hate uber” he whines, completely unaware of what he’s just interrupted. “Think I’m just gonna crash on your sofa tonight, you got a blanket I can borrow?”

He grins at Tom, whose gaze remains fixed on you for a moment. The determination in his eyes is replaced by a gentle sadness, and you can see the last embers of the heated moment dying away.

“Sure mate, there’s one in my room” he says, looking away to smile at his friend. “We’ll leave you in peace, Y/N”.

He guides Haz out of room with a hand on his shoulder, stopping only to give you a brief glance as he reaches for the door handle. “’Night” he says, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Goodnight, Tom” you mumble, as he pulls the door shut.

You’re frozen in the same spot, mind refusing to process what just happened. One thought manages to push to the front, a bitter, heavy realisation that sends a chill up your spine.

That was definitely a now or never moment.

And you’ve just made sure that Tom left thinking the answer was never.

(MASTERLIST)

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