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welllpthisishappening · 2 years ago

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Suggesting that she hated a single piece of wholly ridiculous, vaguely ancient clothing was absolutely insane. Which was never an appropriate description for Regina Mills. Not once, not ever. Insanity suggested chaos and a distinct lack of plan and for as long as Regina could remember, she’d always had a plan.

One foot in front of the other, one project to the next. Only, well, that wasn’t a great way to skate. It was a good way to fall, actually. And Regina had never been a very big fan of falling.

Still, that sweater was a thorn and a prick and several other clichés Mrs. Vankald would be proud of. So, it shouldn’t have surprised her that the stupid thing showed up here: at Killian’s number retirement ceremony.

———

Word Count: 3.3k AN: This is almost solely for @eleveneitherway who, I cannot overstate, is the absolute sweetest. Truthfully, I adore her. It’s also part of the prompts I got from that list that I am almost finished filling. They’re retiring Killian’s number. People are feeling emotions. I felt emotions while writing this. It’s also the first time I’ve written Outlaw Queen as, like, the focus and the first-ever Regina POV for me. Which was actually surprisingly fun? Let’s all ignore the fact that Matt would still be wearing 20 while he continued playing. I don’t care. I wanted the feelings. Also, in case you forgot (because I also had to look it up) Killian wore the sweater to the Opening Night ritual in the first Blue Line season.

———

“In my defense, I wanted to do it.”

Biting the inside of her cheek was an antiquated and instinctual response that no longer resulted in any bit of movement on Regina’s face. Which was good, really. Less because she’d managed to turn self-control into a science over the last few decades, but more because there were too many cameras. Pointed at them and this, and it was genuinely incredible that the New York Rangers organization had not evolved at the same rate. To purchase semi-comfortable seats for a ceremony that was growing increasingly impossible to hear over the roar of several thousand jersey-sporting fans.

“I am sure you did.”

“I did.” “Not a doubt in my mind.”

Laughter in varying volumes and familiar, tell-tale tones came from several different angles in the immediate area. Shaking shoulders bumped Regina’s, a quick glance to her left confirming her equally antiquated and instinctual suspicions. Henry’s lips were barely visible. Tucked behind his teeth as they were. The toddler on Roland’s lap was not all that interested in staying there, clamoring for Lizzie and her hair, tiny hands tugging on strands that induced brand-new sounds of the vaguely pained variety.

Emma did not try to hide the movement of her hand. When she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Tugging his wife’s fingers down with practiced ease, Killian didn’t turn around to the Locksley-filled row behind him, mumbling, “Why would I lie to you? Right now? In this moment?” “You ask questions,” Regina said, “when you’re uncomfortable.” The overall volume of Will’s ensuing snicker was likely simulcast into homes and onto phones across the continental United States, its assorted territories, and most of southern Canada. “A three-peat, Cap.” “Does that make sense?” “No,” Emma replied while Will nearly shouted “Yes,” and Belle’s eyes had been closed for an indeterminate amount of time.

It was all that sweater’s fault. The sweater Regina’s husband was wearing. At the ceremony to retire Killian’s number. With all these cameras. And all these people, and she hadn’t missed the reaction from all those people when Robin stood up and unbuttoned his jacket.

Regina was going to burn that sweater.

Or, well, so she’d planned. She wanted to. Desperately. Years ago, really. What was starting to feel like a totally different life the longer she sat there, in these torture-adjacent chairs while her kids and her grandkids and the rest of a family that sort of snuck up on her did its abject best not to embarrass themselves too completely in front of local and national media. She’d wanted to tear that sweater to shreds and toss those shreds into the sort of blaze that would inspire dramatic documentaries on multiple streaming platforms and over-the-top disaster movies based on those same documentaries with some of the facts skewed solely for entertainment purposes.

Every one of the letters seemed to mock her whenever that sweater appeared, far more often than it should have, stretched across an NHL-ready chest and shoulders that made both her and Killian quite a lot of money.

Mostly because they were capable of twisting at an angle concurrent with his hips that, more often than not, led to the puck finding the back of the net.

All I Want for Christmas Is Locksley

It didn’t even make sense. No pithy rhyme. Not even a slant-rhyme. Too many syllables to truly be a call back to the original, and Regina hadn’t grown up in a home that was especially fond of pop culture or its assorted references, but that one felt famous enough that it shouldn’t have been tarnished with a sweater that made a negligible amount of sense.

And, really, that was it. The rub, as they say. Mrs. Vanklad, too. The sweater was a perfect cliché that did not make sense—was covered in letters that, upon further inspection, during a season-opener in a year her memory could no longer quite lockdown, were not perfectly straight, surrounded by candy canes that frayed with alarming regularity despite never seeming to run out of string, and she hated it. In the depths of her very being, even as it became more and more clear that the sweater was there to stay, another bullet point on a list of stupid jokes made by stupid people that she loved more than she thought possible.

Despising a sweater was impractical.

Only, well, Regina was possibly a little threatened by the sweater for reasons full of childhood disappointment and adolescent trauma, and far too much early-adult tragedy.

Life was a line, she had been taught. For as long as she could remember. Point A to the next, a trip through the alphabet that could only deviate upon completion. And then it just progressed to Greek letters, anyway. Carrying on was a lifestyle drilled into her by necessity and what was frequently described as motherly love instead of popular early 2010s trends, and Regina followed instruction. Followed the plans and the lists and ignored the bumps and the disappointment and all that undeniable loss, until—

She sat at a dining room table on Thanksgiving in a downtown Manhattan brownstone that made something in her chest ache as soon as she walked inside, and she recognized the precise look. Of cautious optimism and patented suspicion of anything good in Robin Locksley’s gaze.

When he looked at her.

Directly across the dining room table.

It didn’t make sense, either. Regina was already running out of letters for plans and projects, and she wouldn’t learn any Norwegian letters for another four years, when Liam thought it would be hysterical to teach Roland certain sayings on the ice, and she’d never wanted… this.

All that motherly love, proclaimed loudly and perpetually as it might have been, had also done a fairly effective job of souring her on the role. But there was this guy. With his eyes and his quiet certainty and equally painful backstory, and, she was only human, so the overall muscle tone of his upper thighs coupled with the precise way his ass looked in dress pants helped, too.

She liked him. She liked his kid. She liked the general concept of them.

Loved it, eventually.

Without reservation, mostly. Old habits and all that. Another Mrs. Vankald-approved cliché, Regina knew. Even if she was also perfectly aware of the exact way Mrs. Vankald would tut her tongue in exasperation over emotional hangups and lingering fears, and Mrs. Vankald was a questionably good mother.

To all of them, no matter what their last name was or their tendency to get on the ice.

She’d squeezed Regina’s hand exactly three times before kissing her on the cheek and telling her she looked beautiful on her wedding day. Answered the phone whenever Regina called with questions about whether or not kids noticed vegetables mixed into fruit smoothies and how often she wanted to kick the shins of various four-year-olds for daring to bump into Roland on the ice. She was frequently reminded that they were all four, and none of them could skate that well yet.

Her kid went pro.

Like her husband was a pro with all the requisite merch and ridiculous merch, and she’d hated the sweater because it was a reminder of poorly-stitched chaos and a distinct lack of control and it was incredibly, undeniably, ugly as sin.

A cliché hat trick.

She wished Mrs. Vankald was there, and she probably, definitely, absolutely should have expected the sweater to show up at some point tonight.

Old traditions died hard deaths that rarely lasted amongst this group.

Without reservation, mostly.

“So, then,” Belle said, pulling Regina back to the present, “you’re saying you knew this was going to happen, Cap.” One of Killian’s shoulders lifted. The kid standing on his thighs wobbled slightly, drawing quick, jerky movements from two sets of arms on his other side. “Deep breaths, the pair of you,” he told both Peggy and Jeremy, who did not look even remotely pacified as their daughter continued to balance, before glancing over that still lifted shoulder, “and I had a general idea.” “Liar, liar,” Emma muttered. Gasps that would fit almost perfectly into the context of Regina’s wholly imagined disaster movie seemed to echo between her ears for their most impressive dramatic effect.

“Swan.” She kissed his cheek. Several people aww’ed. Not all of them were sitting in the Rangers-provided folding chairs. “Taylor’s had it for years.” “No shi—,” Roland said, before cutting himself off. Wide eyes filled with the same sort of guilt that came after multiple instances of sneaking Matt onto ice he was too young to be on with skates that were too big for his feet met Regina’s.

She bit her cheek again. Twice. Once more for good measure.

“But,” Emma added, voice dropping as the cameras moved for yet another seat pan and reaction shot, “Rook said he said he forgot he had it, stuffed it into one of his closets—” “Rich jerk,” Chris grumbled.

Lizzie tugged on the back of his jacket. “Are you not getting ten percent of your brother’s contract?”

“Twelve,” he and Claire said simultaneously. Matt was sitting on the bench. There was a game after this, and Regina wouldn’t be able to think about that for at least the first fourteen minutes of the first period. Twelve percent was a coup.

“How many closets do you have, Toph?” Peggy pressed, trying and failing to pull Maddie away from her dad. He winked at her.

Coughing into a microphone was not particularly subtle.

But neither was the sweater, really. Or deciding who got to speak first at this seemingly endless ceremony by staging a mini skills competition in that same downtown brownstone. Only in the living room, this time. There wasn’t enough room around the table.

Regina’s current working theory was that it might have been a two-fold competition.

Lifting her eyebrows at Robin’s bemused expression while he watched them with what could only be described as perpetual fondness, the edges of Regina’s mouth proved too determined. To lift and curve, a smile stretching her mouth and lifting the muscles in her cheeks, and he didn’t wink at her. He didn’t blink, even. Just kept watching—her, specifically. Waiting, that’s what he was doing. What he’d been since the table and the dinner and the family recipe for broccoli casserole that was far better than the bread pudding.

Waiting for Regina to catch up. To him and this and them, the optimism and the belief, a quiet and steady sort of reassurance that altered the plan with an entirely new list of goals and objectives, winding and twisting, bouncing between up and down and high and low, contract negotiations to wins and parades and could-have-beens, and realizing when it all was enough.

To know when it was ok to want. Beyond your means or what you’d been told you could want. What she’d been told, specifically.

Regina was never going to let him give that sweater back.

To Killian or Emma or Rook’s kid with his admittedly impressive number of closets. Even if she was sort of curious how— “Did he suddenly remember where he stuffed the sweater, then? Save us all with fashion, such as it is, in the nick of ceremony time?” Regina asked, and it would be impossible to believe that Emma’s eyes actually got brighter. Only it was that sort of night. Life, maybe.

“A girl whose name Rook did not know or would not report found it. Was looking for something to wear after—” More gasps. Hands over mouths. Bugging eyes and arms twisting to grab phones out of pockets without any regard given to the entirely unacceptable timing of that specific reaction. “Well,” Emma shrugged, “you get what I mean. It is not all that serious, or so several sources claim both on and off the record, mostly because the nameless girl who I’m sure is real nice found it, Tay was not cute about her laughing at it—” Everyone within a 15-year age range of Taylor, who was on a business trip that weekend and couldn't sit in one of the boxes upstairs with his parents, mumbled idiot under their breath.

Emma nodded once. “He said it was an important memento in New York Rangers lore, presumably got even more weird about hockey than any of us normally are, and here we are.” “Here we are,” Regina echoed. “Does Aurora know it’s not serious or has the invitation designer on retainer already been contacted?

Will wasn’t particularly quiet, sing-songing his “Making jokes is a flashing neon sign of all that bottled up emotion, Your Majesty. You getting sentimental on us?”

Fluttering fingers appeared between the seats in front of her, and she didn’t look before she grabbed them. Chris squeezed. Tightly. Three times.

That was probably a coincidence.

Timing up perfectly with the undeniable buzz of his phone and one last pointed cough.

“You guys good?” Robin asked mid-speech, unable to keep the laughter out of the question or the smile off his face. Wide enough to rival whatever was somehow still stuck on Regina’s. “Put your phone on silent, Toph.”

Roland and Henry more or less collapsed.

“I wanted to wear it,” Killian repeated, “but—” “Mom wouldn’t let him,” Chris whispered, and it wasn’t a whisper when Peggy added, “and it didn’t really fit all that great, either.”

Killian finally handed off his granddaughter. To slump in his chair, just enough to serve as a laughter-inducing response while still avoiding total farce. It was touch and go, though. Will was going to fall on the floor, Belle burying her face in the neck of whichever kid she was now playing chair to because there were too many kids, and that was good and great and the sweater was starting to evolve into some sort of thing in Regina’s mind, a marker and a memory and Robin looked at her first.

Again.

When he said, “You’re not guaranteed anything in this game. It’s weird how that works, actually. Infuriating sometimes. You should get what you want, after all of it, right? You work your whole life for the moment to dig your skates into the ice, to hear all those sounds that have been the soundtrack of an entire career, and you hope it’ll work out ok. Plan for every possibility. With coaches and nutritionists, athletic trainers who—”

He lifted a hand toward the boxes, another flash of smile that left Regina wondering if it was, in fact, possible to float upward solely on the force of all her bottled-up emotion. Like bubbles out of a champagne bottle.

“Hey, A,” Robin continued, “I still do all those oblique stretches you were always harping about.” Regina could only imagine Ariel’s answering shout of liar was nearly identical to the cry that came from both Will and Killian. She shook her head. In response to Emma’s questioning stare.

“Could bounce quarters,” she added softly.

Will scoffed.

Robin’s eye roll could only be noticed by those especially in tune with eye rolls more generally borne from fatherly exasperation and their collective inability to behave in public. As much as carpet-covered ice in Madison Square Garden warranted that description.

“I’m the only one the sweater fit,” he announced, “and I soundly beat Scarlet at skills because my one-timer is still more impressive.” Definitely not acceptable for public consumption, then. Any of them. The next cough was an obvious attempt to get back on track that only marginally worked. No one in the crowd noticed. “Anyway, the point is, you come into this league with a plan. With objectives and desire and it’s great to try that approach, but it never works. Nothing ever goes according to plan. Sometimes it sucks, and you’re bruised and your oblique exercises feel kinda like torture—sorry, A. And you’re on the road, and you miss your kids, but—”

He still didn’t wink. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just kept leaning against that podium with those letters on that sweater stretching across a chest Regina was certain she could describe in minute detail and waited. For her. To lift a finger, rest it below her left collarbone and tap. Three times.

She scrunched her nose for good measure, too.

Because plan zeta was simple, straightforward, and a rather massive undertaking: Live happily ever after.

He grinned.

“Sometimes, the chaos is worth it. It’s impossible and unpredictable and it’s got the sweetest wrist shot I’ve ever seen. Finding the back of the net, and winning us games, and we kinda won, didn’t we, Cap? In that grand-scheme, lifetime sort of way.” Killian sat up straighter.

“Cap’s one of the best guy’s I’ve ever known. I’m not even upset my kid modeled his wrister after Cap’s. It’s ridiculous how good it is, that’s why. But I could stand up here in this sweater that,” he raised his voice, “seriously only fit me, and list off everything Cap’s accomplished because it’s also ridiculously good. But we all know the facts and the stats and the records, and the moments. Plus, it’d probably only embarrass him, and it’d scandalize Matt. Hi, Mattie.” Stick taps came from the bench, a quick salute, and ducked head of curls in desperate need of a cut. Emma was crying. Belle was crying. Regina was not. “So, forget Cap’s numbers for a second. Retired or otherwise. Think about what you were doing during those games. Watching on TV or listening to the broadcast, holding your breath just like we were because you can plan and you can hope, but you never really know, and you’re never promised, and that makes it better. To find your way into this. Into everything we’ve all gotten from this team, and these people, and sometimes the plan sucked anyway. So you take what you can, and you skate as fast as you can, and I’ve never seen anyone skate as fast as Cap. I think we both get credit for, like, at least, like, a third of Rol’s career goals, don’t you?”

Killian beamed.

Roland cursed. Several adults admonished him. For doing it in front of so many children.

And the tears still didn’t come. Not when Killian had to stand in front of that shaky podium with a voice that matched, ignoring the notecards Regina knew he had to tell Emma, specifically, that he’d never been able to dream this life or this career, or when he put his jersey over his button-up, or even when that same jersey in a monstrously large size lifted into the rafters.

Because Regina had. Planned for success and victories and far too many closets in a house all her own.

Except, well—

That house became a home, eventually.

With mess and mistakes and wonder that she welcomed with wide-open arms. Once she realized it was ok to want it. So, no, Regina didn’t cry. Not during the ceremony or immediately after. But then. There was a game to play and a box to sit in, champagne to drink, and she’d never been much of a runner.

Obvious exertion was undignified when the plan was steady and laid out at her feet, and she didn’t think. Shoving her bag into Henry’s somehow expectant hands, Regina dodged other kids and grandkids and phone calls to Taylor demanding the name of the girl and the longevity of the relationship, and Robin didn’t stumble. Didn’t even flinch.

Arms wrapped around her middle instead, barely a huff of an exhale against the crook of her shoulder and the side of her neck, feet just a few inches off the ground. They were older now, that’s why.

He kissed the tears off her cheeks.

Kissed her lips, too. The bridge of her nose. The jut of her chin. Back to her lips until Regina tilted her head and opened her mouth, traced her tongue along another decidedly familiar line as her eyes closed and her heart stuttered, not entirely sure if she imagined the happily ever after, baby pressed to her temple. It didn’t matter. It was true all the same.

She bought a frame a week and a half later. To put the sweater in, hanging it on the wall in her office.

At home.

#outlaw queen #outlaw queen ff #blue line one shots #i have no concept of what year this is #also did i give roland and lizzie another kid? you betcha!

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

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opening weekend

part 1 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 1.9k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! That no one but me and @beautyagegoodnesssize asked for but I’m telling you... just give it a try. Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the groundwork for the series is laid: Frankie is a catcher, and your grandpa is the biggest fan of his team.

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was warm on the back of you neck and it was the bottom of the fourth. It was loud with chatter and announcements, music and cheers, and there were flashing advertisements and seas of merchandise – a typical opening weekend. If you were being honest, it wasn’t really your thing. Or it was, but it shouldn’t have been.

The man beside you was beaming with absolute joy, barely sitting as he leaned forward eagerly as if hoping desperately that it would bring him onto the field with the players.

It was always like this, every few weeks, every summer for years. His name was James, and years and years ago you’d grown close and he’d shared the single constant in his life: the game, and his team. It became your way to stay close, throughout all the chaos of the world, you always made time to make it to as many home games as you could to sit by his side and hear his stories and soak up the wonder in his eyes as he watched the ball and the bats and the sun on the grass. Season passes were his gift to you every year, and today was more exciting than normal, because it was finally time to pay him back.

He loved this team. Of course, it was constantly changing, but for such an old man, he could remember all their names and numbers and statistics. He collected the cards and loved the boys so much it was almost like they were his grandkids.

“No autographs,” he would tell you. “They’re already giving us their best, who are we to ask for more?” and you would melt a little, inside. He was careful not to idolize them, clicking his tongue when bad headlines would come out, constantly reminding you they were just humans, “Just boys! Leave them alone! They’re figuring it out,” he’d say, angrily. It made you laugh, how much he cared about them, and it warmed you heart.

“You want some nachos, Jimbo?”you asked, standing as the ads played and the mascots ran out into the field for extra entertainment. “They’ve got some picked jalapeños with your name on ‘em.” He squinted up at you and you shifted, blocking the sun from his sweet, wrinkled face. A nod and a smile was all you needed before you caught his hand, reminding him to let you pay. You shuffled towards the steps, trying to avoid the drinks and snacks and knees of the people in your row, whispering excuse me’s and apologies. Once you made it to the outsides of the arena, you ducked behind one of the looking pillars, checking your phone before making your way to the quieter, less commercialized area. A security guard checked your phone and ID, and you were ushered into a large office, show awards and photos and expensive amenities filling it to the brim. A man was leaning against a impossibly giant desk, an air of hurry about him, and he shook your hand.

After hasty introductions, you jogged his memory, reminding him that you had submitted an application and been chosen by the board to have your grandfather honored by the team, and today was the day.

He nodded absentmindedly and began to wave you off, ears listening to other words, you were sure. They assured you a team of security would come and escort him to the meeting area when it was time and you said quick thank-you's before stopping.

“Sir, one last thing,” you stood your ground against the rush, determined to be heard. “He’s not just a crazy fan, he’s a sweet old man. I know this is routine for you guys but…” finally, the man in the suit met your eyes. “Please remember how special this is to him.” And he nodded, a swallow pushing down his throat, making his Adam’s apple bob. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but this was important to you.

As you walked back, you got the biggest tray of nachos you could find, and tried not to trip over your own shoes.

It was a beautiful day.

Frankie was hot and sweaty and tired and having a great time. It was the first real game of the season and he hadn’t gotten sick of the noise… Just yet. People were cheering, spirits were high, and for now, Santi was pitching right into his glove.

Just outside the dugout, he and the others paused, hearing the announcer powering up for something unique. Normally, they tuned it all out, but for these, it was basically required that they pay attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today with us we have a very special –” he blared, but it faded to the background. Francisco had been told, with everyone this morning, that the board had chosen a submission of a dedicated fan to honor, someone they’d all have to say hello to, but he hadn’t expected… this.

All over the screens around him and front and center of the megatron was a shocked but beaming elderly man. He wasn’t screaming, or decked head to toe in merch, just smiling, with a tshirt design Frankie barely recognized from years and years ago. It had been washed enough times the team’s logo was barely visible, and that alone was awesome. More importantly, he was tugging at the hand of the most beautiful woman Frankie had maybe ever seen.

Of course, he’d seen lots of beautiful people, it was one of the stranger side effects of his job, but you… were something else. Maybe it was the joy on your face as you nodded, eyes fixed on your grandfather, maybe it was the way the sunlight was hitting your hair just right either way, his heart did a little flip in his chest, and on his shoulders the padding felt suddenly light. He was at loathe to put on his helmet, knowing the face cage would obstruct his view of you, but then you were gone, the ads replacing your face, and one of his friends was giving him a shove towards his corner.

It wasn’t until a ball was mere feet from his face that he remembered he was supposed to be catching it.

Catch, catch, walk, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

And then in a daze, he was making his way to the locker room, with a crowd of trudging cleats and sweaty scents, the roar of the crowds behind him.

Claps on shoulders, showers, and banter passed, and they all filed like sheep into a big, open room. The energy was different, though, less strained than it might have been, if it were an obsessive teenager, or an arrogant know it all.

Frankie’s ear pricked when he heard one of his teammates say, “Hope that girl comes along, she was hot,” all jokes and winks and maybe a crude hand motion or two. There was a twist in his gut, which was absolutely ridiculous, but he didn’t have time to ponder it, because suddenly the door was opening again and there you were.

The main event, of course, was the kindly man at your side, and Frankie tried to seem natural and he strained to see around his friends.

The news reporter was chattering, and he was vaguely aware that everyone was watching the manager give his speech – everyone but him and you. He watched, transfixed, as you tenderly tucked your abuelo's hand into your elbow.

Frankie was busy thinking he’d never quite felt so comfortable in this room before, never seen someone who made him wish he was at the front of the crowd, when your eyes were suddenly in his.

You gave him a half-smile and your fingers wiggled in the tiniest of waves.

It was just for him, not everyone else, and Frankie gulped, too pleased and too shocked to react properly.

When it was his turn to talk to the pair of you, Frankie felt more nervous than he had this morning, walking onto the field. He didn’t even know your name – something he begrudged the staff – and yet he was somehow aching to make a good impression, on you both. But then your abuelito stole his hat and ruffled his hair and he was grinning, and it was a beautiful day.

When he walked back to the lockers, he was pretty sure his heart stayed right in that room, somewhere next to a beaming little old man.

The two of you went separate ways but not at all the same as you’d been that morning.

Frankie ducked out of the after party at Tom's bnb. The boys were rambunctious and loud and more importantly they kept talking about you and he just didn’t want to hear any of it.

The memory of the little wave of your hand was burrowing into his chest, into his stomach, feeding him like food after a long, hot summer day.

Santiago’s footsteps were familiar, even off the sand and the grass of the field. His hand was warm on Frankie’s shoulder, pulling him slowly back to reality.

“Everything okay, hermano?” His voice was equal parts genuine and teasing.

Frankie shrugged. What could he say? He didn’t even know your name, and even if he did, so what? It's not like his mind had already created a scenario in which he'd chased after you in the long, curved corridors and you had beamed, happy to see him, and touched his hand with yours.

It’s not like he was kicking himself for letting you walk out the door without trying, anything. Not like he hated hearing the other guys joke about how innocent and sweet you looked. He certainly couldn’t explain how possessive he felt over a girl he’d only sort of met.

So he ignored the thump in his chest and just looked a the stars and shrugged.

As for you, James was seated next to you, trying to start sentences and getting overwhelmed with joy. Your hands slid over the steering wheel, listening to him as much as you could, filling in the ends, mind still on the handsome player who’s eyes had followed you through from over the sea shoulders and hats.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” he asked, pulling you back to reality.

You hummed noncommittally in response. Lying to him was absolutely out of the question so you pondered your options, while he watched you, amused.

“What’s the name of the catcher?” you asked, finally, feeling heat in your face as you remembers his broad shoulders and the twitch in his hands.

His laugh was adorable and mischievous and you felt almost silly. You weren’t a little girl watching t-ball, after all, that was a real, actual man.

A real man with dark, deep eyes, and tan skin and fluffy curls.

You shook your head.

“Never… mind.” He was also undoubtedly also a man with a life and a girlfriend or wife, and no lingering thoughts of you.

James laughed again and dropped the subject.

But you walked him into his home and he grasped your hand with newfound determination. He winked and whispered and you felt a thump in your chest.

“Francisco Morales.”

translations:

abluelo: grandfather

abuelito: literally, little grandfather, it’s affectionate

hermano: brother

taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #maybe i don't know people

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“You did not just bring a fruitcake into my home.”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.6K

a/n: hi lovelies! I tend to just start writing my Tae fics with little plot in mind and see where it takes me and that’s what this is a result of. I wasn’t sure about it but it’s been both Chlo and Mads approved so I’ll trust them haha. Tae comes to Peaches’/reader’s place with a fruitcake and that’s basically it lmao. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

SITTING on the floor of the living room, Yeontan in your lap, you spread the pink watercolor paint across the paper as you hummed along to the music playing from your phone. It was a fairly new hobby still, but you were trying to experiment with all sorts of art mediums.

Your humming was cut off by your own small yelp when the front door suddenly burst open, your gaze snapping from the partially painted sheet to your boyfriend beaming at you brightly. The quirk of your lips in response to the man was natural as Yeontan bolted to greet his dad.

“Peaches,” Taehyung breathed out happily, your eyes widening as you watched him expectantly. “Tannie,” he greeted the pup, kneeling down to pet the dog as Yeontan wiggled with unbridled excitement. “Peaches,” he said again, standing back up to look at you.

“What is happening?” You asked curiously, a small giggle leaving you as he nodded to the kitchen before walking away. “Tae,” you called out, quickly standing up to follow him, watching Yeontan trot along behind Taehyung.

When you reached the kitchen, your boyfriend was holding the dog as he stood at the island, his expression gleeful and adorable. “Why are you in such a good mood?” You asked, searching his frame before your eyes fell to countertop, in which a particularly festive dessert sat. “You did not just bring a fruitcake into my home,” you stated bluntly, though you were mostly kidding.

“Have you ever had a fruitcake before?” He asked, you quirking your head at the baked good sitting on the counter.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, looking up just in time to observe Taehyung as his eyes widened adorably, making him look innocent. He was innocent. Innocently ignorant to the horrors of fruitcakes. “Tae, baby, why do you have a fruitcake?”

“Are they that bad?” He asked in shock, looking down at the cake, lifting the plastic wrap that was draped over it.

“They aren’t good,” you chuckled. “Dearest, where did you get this?”

“Your neighbor,” he answered, still staring at the cake curiously as Yeontan wiggled in his arms, wanting to be put down. “She was so sweet,” Taehyung said as he knelt down to let Yeontan go. “How come I’ve never met her before?”

“How come I’ve never met her before? Which neighbor?” You asked, surprised that he actually ran into one of them, as you rarely ever saw them out and about.

“A few doors down,” he told you, finally looking up from the cake to you. “Her grandkids are here for Christmas and they were doing all sorts of baking,” he informed you, obviously having had an entire conversation with the woman, in true Taehyung fashion.

Staring at the man, you couldn’t help but feel extremely fond of him for being so genuinely kind and approachable. Everyone felt comfortable in his presence, and it was always something you admired about him. It was a trait you wished you had yourself.

“I love you,” you confessed randomly, catching him off guard as a shy smile overtook his features, a low chuckle slipping from between his lips.

Dipping his head down, he looked up at you through his long lashes. “Why all of a sudden?” He asked timidly, only making you even more smitten as you looked at him.

“You’re so genuinely good,” you told him, your heart growing by the second the longer you stared at him. “I love that about you. I adore your soul,” you continued, Taehyung’s smile growing on his face until he was flashing you a bashful boxy grin, shy under your compliments but radiant as the comments penetrated his stature.

“I love you too,” he replied softly. “You’re good too,” he assured you, knowing you far too well as he realized where your thoughts were taking you. He was far too versed in your mind to not realize you were feeling insecure for your aloof and shy demeanor.

“I’ve never stopped to talk to her,” you told him, a sadness seeping into your tone.

Without a word, he stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around the back of your head, yours closing over his waist as he held you close to his chest, comforting you with sweet kisses to your hair. “They made the cake for you,” he whispered, you humming in question. “Yeah,” he told you, leaning back a bit so he could look at you. “The two little kids told me to give it to you.”

“They know me?” You asked in surprise.

“Of course they do,” he smiled warmly. “You’re impossible to miss, Peaches.” Coming from anyone else, the words would have felt empty, easy to negate, but you knew Taehyung very much found you to be unmissable. He’d been telling you since you first met him. It wasn’t just fate that you two met, but also the fact that he simply couldn’t miss you.

Pouting at him, Taehyung stole a kiss from your protruding bottom lip, causing you to smile as a small breathy laugh escaped. “Wanna know their exact words?” He asked, you nodding instantly. “Ahem,” he exaggeratedly cleared his throat, you giggling at him. “Mister, can you get this to the pretty girl with the cute little dog?” he mimicked the cute voices of the kids.

“They did not,” you laughed, your hands soothing over his lower back.

“They did,” he told you with wide eyes, defending himself. “I swear,” he added, a chuckle escaping his lips in response to your amused grin. “They really did,” he remained adamant, giving you a single exaggerated nod of his head.

“Well now I feel bad for saying fruitcake is bad,” you remembered your previous comment, Taehyung smiling widely as a breathy laugh left his lips.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it,” he assured you as you tugged on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“Thank you,” you nodded with a grin, looking back to the fruitcake on the counter. “Oh my god, fruitcake,” you exclaimed in feigned excitement, Taehyung watching you in pure amusement. “My favorite,” you added, Taehyung falling forward in laughter, resting his chin against your forehead as you giggled at yourself.

You both stayed in each other’s arms like that for a moment longer, Taehyung pressing soft kisses to your forehead as your fingers dragged across the expanse of his lower back. “We need to thank them somehow,” you suddenly spoke, Taehyung pulling back to look at you.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, squinting at you in thought. “Were you watercoloring?” He asked randomly, you cocking your head at him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed questioningly. “I was trying to make a sunset with like a pink sky but,” you dropped off, pulling a face of distaste. “I’m not very good,” you smiled shyly, Taehyung glaring at you.

“You just started,” he told you. “You’re learning.”

“I know,” you said with a small pout.

“You don’t get to determine how good you are yet,” he ranted. “Besides, it’s for fun. How could you ever not be good at something you do for fun?” He questioned, your lips curving into a smile as you stared at him lecturing you. “You’re amazing,” he assured you. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you giggled, Taehyung nodding at you.

“That’s all that matter then, isn’t it?” He continued.

“Yes,” you whispered fondly. “It is.”

“You should paint them a picture,” he suggested. “To thank them.”

You opened your mouth to tell him you didn’t think that was the best way to say thank you when you could barely paint a gradient, but the man pushed his lips to yours to silence you.

Smiling into the kiss, Taehyung giggled against your mouth. “They would love it,” he told you, kissing you once more before pulling away once again. “And if it’s really as bad as you think it is,” he gave you a sharp stare, “which it won’t be,” he interjected, “we’ll just bring Tannie to soften the blow.”

Letting out a breathy laugh at your boyfriend, you smiled widely. “Fine,” you agreed. “But you have to help me.”

“Happily,” he told you. “Should we try this cake?” He asked, looking to the pastry sitting atop the counter.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out in a rushed exhale. “I suppose,” you relented, Taehyung reaching under the plastic wrap to pull a piece off.

“I’ll go first,” he told you, bringing it to is lips. Placing the morsel on his tongue, he tested the taste, giving a thoughtful look as examined the flavors.

“You’re not going to give me any indication on how it is, are you,” you realized, Taehyung flashing you a bratty smile as you huffed. Grabbing a piece for yourself, you quickly tossed it into your mouth, your tastebuds actively trying to figure out what exactly you were exposing them to. “I-” you started, cutting yourself off as you pondered the taste. “It’s not the worst fruitcake I’ve ever had,” you said, trying to sound positive.

“It’s not good though,” Taehyung admitted, causing you to cover your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut as you began laughing at the comment. “We have to pretend we like this, she was the sweetest woman,” he told you in a hurry, feeling guilty for not liking the dessert.

“It was the best fruitcake we’ve ever had,” you nodded. “That’s not even a lie,” you pointed out, Taehyung shooting you a look that silently asked you to elaborate. “It’s your only fruitcake, therefore, the best,” you explained, “and like I said, it’s not the worst I’ve had,” you added.

Your boyfriend fell into a fit of giggles as he grabbed your body, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nuzzled his face against your neck, your arms draping over his shoulders as you laughed with him fondly.

“Best fruitcake we’ve ever had,” he repeated, his breath fanning over your skin in a light tickle.

“The best,” you added, both of you falling into more laughter as you held each other in the kitchen light.

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marktuansvevo · 4 years ago

Text

how got7 reacts to the sight of mistletoe

warning(s); cursing, a tiny bit of suggestive content in youngjae’s drabble.

happy december first loves ♡

mark; smug

mark knew how easy it was to make you red in the face. if he was being honest, it was his favorite thing to do. he just adored teasing you, and the tradition of mistletoe would help him embarrass you.

the two of you were holiday shopping, hand in hand as you looked for presents for the boys and for your siblings. you were having a blast until you went to get ice cream, where of course the local shop had to have mistletoe. you wanted to ignore it, didn’t want to bring attention to yourself. you tugged on mark’s hand, knowing he was amused already.

“what are you doing? we’re holding up the line,” you whined.

“y/n, there is no line,”

“I just really want ice cream,” you sputtered as he pulled you into his chest to kiss you oh so softly. you blushed as soon as he pulled away as the teenaged workers whooped and whistled at you, not wanting to look at mark’s shit eating grin.

“you’re so cute when you’re red, baby,”

jaebeom; playful

jaebeom loved mistletoe because it gave him an excuse to kiss you more.

one night while you were out with your friends, he stopped at the dollar store and bought a bunch of mistletoe. he hung it from your bedroom door, the front door, the back door, the opening to the kitchen and the dining room...even the door to the bathroom. it was all over your apartment now. he just wanted to kiss you anytime he could :(

he sat in the living room waiting up for you, not realizing you and your friends would be out so late. he was nodding off as you walked through the door. jaebeom stirred, flinging himself off the couch and into your arms. you immediately started giggling.

“what’s going on?” he didn’t say anything and pointed up, waiting for you to look at the pretty plant before diving in for a kiss. now both of you were giggling.

“aren’t you thirsty from a long night out? let me get you some water,” now you were confused. he lead you to the kitchen and looked above the entryway, looking shocked.

“ooh, mistletoe!” he kissed you again.

make no mistake, this would be how things would going for the rest of the month.

jackson; extra

as if he would be anything else. you would dread seeing mistletoe when you were with your boyfriend. especially out in public. it didn’t matter where you were, you could be at the mall, a restaurant...your bedroom. he would make it a big show. jackson would absolutely dip you and kiss you full on the lips, smirking against your lips. “a kiss for my christmas angel,” he would always say. and you would always cringe. he got a kick out of people watching him show you off, the voyeur.

one time, he actually dropped you on your head (on accident, of course). the two of you were out dancing at a bar when a bartender came over and held mistletoe over your head, making you groan. “please don’t encourage him,” you’d say as jackson got up off the barstool he was sitting on and took your hand. he was giggling now.

“my honey, i need to kiss you,” he said before puckering his lips. you got off the stool and let him dip you, waiting for it. what you got was him dropping you on accident.

“y/n!!!” he yelled before very ungracefully fell on top of you to give you a proper, albeit drunk, kiss. you were fine, just drunk and giggling and so, so happy. now maybe he’d stop dipping you.

(who were you kidding? the man would never stop showing you off).

jinyoung; cheeky

would make some many jokes to make you laugh. when the two of you went to your mothers to visit for the holidays, the two of you would mingle with your relatives and eat cookies before dinner. your mom invited the pair of you into the kitchen, to presumably help her set the table, but that’s not what she wanted.

you walked hand and hand into the kitchen, where your mom was waggling her eyebrows and pointing to the pretty mistletoe above you in the threshold. she wanted to get a picture of you two, but you were just embarrassed. jinyoung let out his signature laugh before thanking your mom. “thank you so much for this opportunity, she never kisses me at home,” he would tease, making you slap him in the chest before you let him kiss you. the photo your mom took of you would inevitably become your christmas card.

youngjae; reserved

youngjae thought mistletoe was a cute tradition, I mean, any time he had an excuse to kiss you, he’d take it. he loves sharing affection with you, so of course, he tapes some mistletoe over your doorway.

“jae!! come here!!” he could hear you giggling from your shared bedroom.

“what’s up baby?” he asked as he crawled onto the bed with you before pecking you on the lips.

“we’re in a youtube tea channel,” you were laughing hysterically. “remember those girls who were videoing us at starbucks?” you handed your phone to him.

earlier in the day the two of you went to get coffee after a long day of christmas shopping. while you were picking your drinks up, you noticed there was mistletoe hanging above you. youngjae noticed too, and gave you a simple kiss on the mouth before heading out. it wasn’t a big deal, just a cute simple peck on the mouth.

but apparently it was a big deal with youngjae’s fans.

“this looks like a loveless relationship, let’s replay the clip,” one of the girls said. youngjae just looks bewildered at you. “she just pecks him. I mean, if youngjae were my man, i’d be all over him. i’d have mistletoe hanging all over the place. but noooo, y/n just gives him a peck like a grandma gives her grandkid.”

“i literally kissed you,” jae muttered. “i literally leaned down to kiss you!!!”

“we’re in a loveless relationship because we don’t make out in public. should we break up? those girls seem to be a better fit for you,” you teased as you climbed your way into his lap to kiss him.

“god, maybe you should kiss me with tongue and the love will pop back into our relationship,” he giggled as you sucked hickeys into his neck.

“maybe if we go back to starbucks and I shoved my tongue in your mouth, they’d be satisfied?” you hummed as he pulled your top over your head.

“im sure they’d make another tea video calling you out.”

bam; dramatic

bam is always silly, sometimes when he sees mistletoe, he’ll pull you into his arms, old hollywood movie style, saying some nonsense like “kiss me, my love, or surely we will be cursed,” and makes a big, big deal of it. this is what mostly happens, he just loves to see you laugh. and he loves kissing your pretty full lips.

on the flip side, he could be annoying about it.

you were going out to jaeboems for a christmas party and had politely asked your boyfriend to change his outfit — only because it clashed with yours. you both surely couldn’t wear plaid, it wouldn’t look right. he huffed and puffed about it but did change his flannel for a sweater instead.

you walked through the door to see a piece of mistletoe above you. you moved to kiss him, and he dramatically ran away from you, making jaeboem giggle. “I don’t want to kiss you!! you have mean girlfriend cooties!!”

“fine!! I’ll have jaeboem kiss me then!”

he looks stunned at you, before running over and kissing you on the cheek. “there you go you meanie.”

yugyeom; embarrassed

oh yeom, such a big baby. he would just blush at the sight of the festive plant. yugyeom would always let you take the lead, being too embarrassed to be dramatic like bam or over the top like jackson. he followed your lead always.

you lead him into your brothers house, where you were going to babysit your niece and nephew while your brother and sister in law could go out on a date.

you knocked on their door before your niece opened and squealed. “you brought uncle yugy!!!” you looked at your boyfriend who was already blushing. “of course!!”

“hey guys!”

“yeom, there’s mistletoe!” your sister winked at him, knowing how to embarrass him.

“mommy!! don’t make them do it!!” your nephew wailed.

“but honey it’s a tradition!!” you told him before getting on your tiptoes to kiss your boyfriend, laughing as the kids screamed — your nephew fake vomiting. yugyeom was so red, hiding his head in your chest.

“I swear to god, every piece of mistletoe I see, I’m going to rip down so I don’t have to deal with that ever again,” he whined.

#got7 #got7 writings #got7 reactions #got7 drabbles #youngjae drabbles #youngjae imagines #jinyoung drabbles #jinyoung imagines #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan drabbles #jackson wang imagines #jackson wang drabbles #bambam drabbles #bambam imagines #yugyeom imagines #yugyeom drabbles #happy christmas first!!!#jaebeom imagines

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ye4gerismarchives · 3 years ago

Text

the bachelorette chp 5, final part

an: ha😅 a lil nervous rn. but thanks again y'all. i do have two links (i know i said i would stop) but yeah. the first link is to leave your thoughts in the series as a whole and just for me to get your thoughts and opinions on a few things. it is completely optional! click here! the second link will be at the bottom and i’ll explain what it is. i will also discuss the future of the bachelorette in the last few chapters!

tags: black fem reader

tag list: @taybird

You stare at Connie.

"What the hell...? You'll work on you and I'll work on me? Why couldn't you do that five weeks ago? I'm already ready for you. I'm ready to love you."

Connie had a confused look on his face. "What are you...?"

"No, Connie, I will not marry you. You aren't ready for this. And I'm not going to wait on you. I'm gonna marry Jean, who's prepared for this."

You start to walk away. Your movements are heavy due to the amount of sand that's in your way. You lean down to pick up your shoes and you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. Connie pulls you up. "What?"

"Connie, let go of me. Go back to the mansion, get your stuff and leave." You tug your hand away. "y/n...I...but..."

"But my a$$. You had five weeks to get out of the friendship thing. I don't want to argue with you about this. I said no."

You pick up your shoes and struggle up the sand but you make it to the top. As you walk towards the parking lot, you realized Connie would have to drive you home. You waited by his car, arms crossed. You were upset by his reaction. You thought he'd shrug it off, considering the fact that he's been friendly the whole time. But he seemed hurt. It took a while for Connie to meet you at the parking lot. He could barely meet your eye. You've never seen him like this before. He unlocks the car and you both slip inside. Connie silently starts the car and drives you to the mansion.

"Jean..."

You can see the erratic stars lighting up in Jean's eyes.

"Of course I'm alright with a future with you. I'll marry you, Jean," you finally say.

It takes him a minute to process that. "Huh?"

"Jean," you chuckle, "I'll marry you. I'm yours and your mine."

Jean silently slips the ring onto your finger. He slowly stands up but wobbles a bit. You hold on to his shoulders. "Hey, chill out."

"Sorry...it's just that...this is so unreal. We're engaged," he breathes. "We are," you say admiring the ring. You loved how it looked so simple on your hand.

It's crazy. All this fighting and drama, for a simple ring.

"You know, I could have bumped into you one day and we could have started dating like a normal couple," you say. Jean chuckled softly. "I think we still have time to do that. I don't mind waiting a few years to sign papers. We can do things slowly. I would like that."

You nod in agreement and pull yourself into Jean's chest. You really hope he was the right choice.

When you and Jean got back to the mansion, the first thing he did was say his goodbyes to Connie. They did one of those silly man handshakes and hug before Connie came over to you to say goodbye.

"Honestly, I didn't think things would play out the way it did. And I’m not talking about our relationship but our relationship with Sasha and Mikasa. I honestly thought this would be a little joke we would all laugh over in like ten years,” Connie admits. “Yeah, me too. But we all have a story to tell to our grandkids, right?” you reply, trying to lighten his mood. Connie nods. He picks up his bags and makes his way to the doors.

“Hey, Connie, you wanna be my best man?” Jean steps in. Connie whips his head around. “What?”

“Be my best man. I don’t know a lot of guys so…and you would be perfect,” Jean continues. Connie turns his head around before answering. “I’ll think about it.” Within a few minutes, he’s gone.

You and Jean stare at each other for a moment. “What do we do now?” he asks. You realized Levi hasn’t given you a plan. All you had to do was say ‘yes’ to someone and move on.

“Let’s just relax. I’m sure Levi will talk with us when he’s ready.”

sorry connie stans😞 this was a jean based blog so i’m not surprised that the jean fans showed up and out. but don’t worry! i do plan to write for connie in the future, so eventually y’all will get domestic connie content in the future!

the second link is to add more details to your future with jean + extra things about past contestants, mikasa, levi and sasha. this is completely optional too. i just want to fill in some blanks. i don’t mind adding my own details but i want your opinions too!

#black!reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black! reader #connie spinger x reader

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elldell1204 · 4 years ago

Text

Tented - Matt Casey x Reader

Anonymous: yesterday’s fic was amazing! may I request casey x fem reader on going on a trip together? maybe you could include some smut? thanks xx

Thanks so much for the request! I am getting them all and am working my way through. 🥰 So, I started writing this and then realised that I had read a fic with a similar concept to mine by @shelswrites so definitely go check out their’s here! ❤️ I don’t know whether to apologise or not for the smut that is in this, but there is definitely a lack of hot Casey smut on the internet, so I’m here to do my bit to fix that, even if that does mean I’m going to hell 😊😜 Enjoy! 😉

Warning: VERY NSFW, pure smut and swearing ;)

wc - 2,787

(Also, 😍😍😍 ⬇️⬇️)

“Easy, Matt.” You scolded, throwing your arms out to grab onto anything you could find, hoping and praying that whatever you did wouldn’t get in the way of his driving, not that you cared when he was going fifty round a bend.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I know what I’m doing. I drove the truck for three years before I became lieutenant, so a car is like that with training wheels.” He chuckled, a sound that twinkled in your ears to calm the racing of your heart. It was only semi-successful.

“I’ll remind you of that when we end up at the bottom of a cliff.” You huffed, trying to stop a smile spreading across your face to prove a point.

You had absolutely no idea where you were going. When you and Matt had gotten home from shift last night, he said that he had sorted out a surprise holiday for you both and shoved you in the car. He hadn’t even let you pack your own suitcase or look in the trunk. You sat for approximately a half hour before he re-emerged from your apartment building, the only thing in his hand being the blindfold you preferred to use in the bedroom, only it was now being used to keep you in the dark about where you were driving. ‘Yep, definitely prefer it in the bedroom.’ You thought.

Now, around forty-five minutes and several wrong guesses later, you were slightly frustrated, mildly travel sick and pulling up to your destination.

“We’re here.” Matt smiled, which you couldn’t see but could hear in his voice, which automatically brightened you up and returned you to the cheery and excited state you were in when you first started on your journey.

“Am I taking this off?” You gestured to the blindfold.

“Mmm…not yet.” He hesitated, and the next time he spoke he was close enough that his breath fanned over your ear and his hand was gently brushing your thigh. “You do look really hot in it right now. Reminds me of the other night.”

You visibly shivered, a heat flowing to your core at the thoughts that now flooded your mind. You released a shaky breath as Matt pulled back, opening the car door and stepping out.

“Jesus Christ.” You breathed to yourself. The things that man could do to you.

The sound of your door opening startled you, but the warmth of the hand that grasped yours calmed you immensely, and you chuckled. The warmth of the air hit your skin as you stepped out, a change from the air-conditioned interior of the car. Matt guided you along what felt like grass under your toes, stopping after about twenty feet.

“Surprise, baby.” He whispered in your ear as he carefully untied the blindfold. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light, but as soon as they did, you were astounded by the view. A glistening lake stretched before you, cut off by an emerald forest on the other side as the golden streams of light from the sun cascaded over the tops as it set. Different layers overlapped where the ground was higher in places, offering endless opportunities for long walks and hikes. To your right was a clearing with picnic benches and spots for tents to be set up, only one of them currently in use.

You turned your head to the side to face Matt, a smile brightly illuminating your features and he couldn’t be happier at the sight.

“Oh Matt…” You sighed happily, reaching up a hand to cup his face. “This is gorgeous.”

“I’m happy you like it.” He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and peppering sweet kisses up your neck. You hummed in content, fluttering your eyes closed to savour the moment.

“Is this because I told you I had never been camping before the other night?” You murmured.

“Mhmm.” He confirmed. “My dad used to bring me and Christie here when we were little, and I loved it, so I wanted to share it with you.”

“Well thank you.”

“We should probably get set up before the sun sets fully.” He said, and you nodded, turning and walking beside him back to the car to help out.

Matt practically put up the tent himself, since you just felt you were getting in the way as you didn’t have much experience, not that he minded; he was in his element. You instead decided to get acquainted with your temporary neighbours. They were on the opposite side of the row to you, about ten yards down, with you being at the closest to the water and them being the furthest. They were sat in a couple of camping chairs in front of their campfire, smiling and waving as you made your way over. Mr and Mrs Miller were a lovely couple, a couple of generations older than you but still very lively. You got to know them relatively well in the fifteen minutes you spoke to them, telling them about your jobs as firefighters and how it was your first camping trip. They told you about their grandkids, how they liked to travel to different campsites around the country now that they were both retired, and even offered for you and Matt to join them if you so wished. Matt came over once he was done with the tent, joining in the conversation before you bid farewell to go and unpack what was left from the car and get something to eat.

“So, do we have to piss in a circle around the tent now?” You asked Matt half-jokingly after swallowing the last bite of your sandwich that he had packed for you both. You were sat beside each other on the grass, looking out to the lake, the sun very low behind the trees. The Millers had gone to bed an hour ago, so you were the only people in sight for at least a mile.

“What?” He burst out laughing at your unexpected question, as you had previously been sat in comfortable silence.

“You know, to keep the bears away.” You shrugged, chuckling along.

Matt placed a hand on your knee as he came down from his laughing fit. “No, Y/N, there aren’t any bears around here, so we’re good. Although, be my guest if you really want to.”

“Oh, shut up.” You playfully shoved his shoulder as you smiled. “Do you have anything planned for tonight then?”

“Not really. We made it here quicker than I thought we would so I don’t have anything pre-planned. However,” Matt began to draw circles on your thigh with his thumb, leaning in closer to you, beginning to trail kisses down your neck, stopping at the junction of it to suck a hickey into your skin, painting it a sultry red that would shift hues as the days pass. “Christening the tent doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

You let out a breathy moan, melting into his touch like a candle to a flame, his skin leaving tingles wherever it touched yours. He moved a hand to your shoulder blade and gently lowered you down on the grass so that he was hovering over you, his hands roaming your body like yours were roaming his.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” You managed to get out as Matt coaxed your t-shirt halfway up your torso. “I have a better idea.”

He stopped his ministrations and lifted his head to look at you quizzically. All you did in reply was give him a mischievous smile before sitting up, taking him with you, and standing. You began walking backwards towards the lake, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt to tease him before pulling it fully over your head and throwing it to the side. Matt’s eyes were glued to your body, seductively walking backwards with a heat in your step, as he stood, doing nothing but watching you, transfixed. By now you had begun unbuttoning your jeans, unzipping the fly and pushing them off your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. It wasn’t anything overly risqué (comfortable lilac cotton with lace trim on both of the matching pieces) but it practically had him drooling.

“Ever been skinny dipping, Matt?” You said, voice dripping with lust like nectar from a flower, your teasing head tilt making his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“Someone’s feeling daring.” He pointed out, his voice seemingly deeper than before.

You winked in reply, turning around before pulling down your panties, stepping out of them then unclasping your bra, pulling it off your shoulders and throwing it to the floor. Your nipples were already fully erect, and because it was a humid summer’s day, you knew it wasn’t due to any cold air. Now fully nude, you looked back over your shoulder to see Matt getting undressed himself, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his bare chest in the dim light that shone through the trees. You couldn’t help but turn around and enjoy the show, him pushing down his pants and boxers in one, allowing his cock to spring free against his stomach, granting it its much-awaited freedom. He lifted his eyes to see you watching him, biting your lip, and suddenly all your thoughts of running to the water’s edge dissipated, being replaced with him taking you right there and then on the grass.

“I don’t know about you,” He said as he walked the ten feet distance to you. “But I don’t think I can wait till we’re in the water.”

He was right in front of you now, his skin just begging for your touch. All you could do was nod, your bottom lip still trapped by your teeth until he reached up his hand to your face, his thumb tugging your lip free. He then threaded the same hand into your hair, the other one wandering down to grab your ass as he leaned in. You slid one hand up his chest and the other down to wrap around his cock, then you met him halfway, locking your lips in a devilishly hot kiss. You were both heavily aroused already, your nipples pressing hard against his chest, his dick twitching as you ran your hand up and down it.

In seconds you were laid down on the floor, Matt hovering over the top of you as he his lips began to drift over your jaw, down your neck, and to your left breast. His breath was hot and the occasional moan left his lips, but he stayed on his quest. He sucked at your nipple harshly, eliciting a moan from you. He peered up from his spot on your chest, quirking an eyebrow.

“You need to stay quiet, babygirl.” He smirked.

You sighed in frustration. You loved letting him know vocally what he did to you, even though he could tell by the way you writhed and squirmed beneath him. He went back to your nipple, licking a stripe up it as his left hand rolled your other between his fingers, pinching harshly every now and then to make your blood rush to your centre. He lightly bit the one he had in his mouth, and you had to clamp your teeth down onto your bottom lip to stop yourself from groaning. He soothed it by swirling his tongue before moving onto your other breast, his right hand dancing down your side softly, caressing your hip, trailing further and further down until it met your hot, wet lips.

You gasped out as his finger drew circles around your clit, his lips tracing patterns with kisses down your torso on their way to meet his fingers. You bucked your hips into his hand, grinding your wetness against him, telling him that this was all for him, that he had done this to you. You felt his lips turn upwards into a smile against your hip, letting you know he understood, as his teeth nipped gently at the skin there.

He finally arrived at his destination, drawing back his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss of contact. He pushed your legs further apart, his warm breath fanning over your glistening lips as you began to squirm in anticipation of what was to come. He knew he was damn good at giving oral, as did you, and he loved to hear you and see you work yourself up before the act.

“Please, Matt, please, I-I need-“ You started to plead, only to be interrupted by his tongue flattening against your aching nub, running back and forth in long, slow strokes that caused your muscles to tense at each one, however hard you tried to relax.

“Holy fucking shit…” You breathed out, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle the moans that were bound to come. His mouth vibrated against you as he chuckled at your response, but he didn’t stop. He sealed his lips around your clit, making your head spin, swirling his tongue around and around. You reached out your free hand to entangle your fingers into his golden strands, tugging gently at them, just how he liked it. He moaned against you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He continued to suck and lap at different spots to make to writhe beneath him, using his hands to pin your thighs down on either side of his head.

You felt your orgasm beginning to coil tighter and tighter in your stomach, and he seemed in no rush to get out of there, lavishing attention over every part of you, leaving nothing untouched. Sliding his hands underneath your ass, he pulled you further into him, filling his mouth with you as if he could never get enough.

“Matt, I’m…I’m close.” You panted, and he got the hint, removing his mouth with one last lick and moving back up to meet your lips once again. You could feel his hard on pressing against your core, teasing you whether it was intentional or not, as his tongue danced with yours and your lips fought in a battle to devour each other’s.

He was grinding against you now, just enough friction to make you beg for more but not enough to reach your high. He knew what he was doing, and he was enjoying it. Time for a taste of his own medicine.

You took his moment of weakness (in the form of a groan) to flip your bodies over, you now straddling him, lips still connected as you grinded down onto him. He was craving his release, as were you, and as much as you were relishing the moment, you gave in. You lifted your hips, wrapping a hand around his throbbing cock to line it up with your entrance before sinking down onto it, both of you releasing a guttural moan in unison, attempting to be as quiet as possible but failing pretty miserably. His hands were gripping your hips so hard they would probably leave bruises that would linger for days, reminding you of this night every time you looked in the mirror.

You tried to hold on, continue teasing him, but pure carnal pleasure took over, and soon you were raising your hips and slamming them back down, each motion causing a delicious bliss to flood your veins. Your movements quickened, both of you panting with how close you were to the brink of an orgasm, when Matt drove his hips up in time with you, the force at which he did making you lift a hand from where you were bracing yourself on his shoulder to your mouth, clamping it over it to muffle the scream you let free.

“Come with me, baby, I want to feel you clench around my cock.” Matt groaned, and you flew over the edge, hurtling into the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced, Matt joining you as you felt him release into you. You could’ve sworn you saw a galaxy of stars behind your eyelids as your legs shuddered with the force of your high, and as you lifted yourself off of Matt and collapsed next to him in a post-orgasmic daze, you took deep breaths of the fresh night air that enveloped you.

With some sense of reality restored, Matt placed an arm under your head, wrapping it around you to draw soothing circles on your shoulder as you both watch the real stars above your heads. You turned towards him to nuzzle into his neck, pressing lazy kissing along his pulse point as you enjoyed each other’s company, blind to the rest of the world, at least for a few minutes.

#chicago fire #chicago fire fic #matt casey #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey fluff #matthew casey #matthew casey imagine #matthew casey x reader #matt casey smut #matthew casey smut

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

Note

67. “Speak for me again, and I’ll punch you in the throat.” For Ell x John pwease 😌

skdjhfsdlf gosh i just!! hmmm!!! just love u to bits u always seem to know what my heart needs and i think that is honestly very delightful of u. send me a prompt + a pairing and i’ll write a warm-up blurb!

john/ell + “speak for me again and i’ll punch you in the throat”, set pre/no-cult AU, as a follow up to this blurb here. no warnings other than the insinuation john would like to pass on his genes, and also elliot’s mouth (lol).

words: 1.4k yes i am the mayor of clown town

The afternoon was going as smoothly as could be expected. Scarlet was on her fifth drink—Vodka martini, dry, “no olives, please, John”—and where most of the time John would have thought that drinking would make someone as ostensibly obnoxious as Scarlet Honeysett more bearable, it, in fact, accomplished the opposite. Alcohol did not soften Scarlet, but somehow managed to make her more sharp.

Out of the frying pan, John thought dryly, setting the glass down in front of her.

“You know, you’re very good at mixing drinks,” Scarlet remarked. “Do you have practice? Bartended before?”

“No, I just enjoy a nice cocktail,” John replied lightly, clearing his throat as he sat back down, glancing back in the kitchen where Elliot was making herself a drink. Just moments ago, she’d dragged him in there for a nice, secret little moment—but like always with these kinds of affairs, her absence was quickly noticed, and they’d gotten drawn back out into the bustle. “Have you, Scarlet?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, I’d never,” she replied, laughing as though it were cute he’d thought that she might have. “You’ve just got the look of one, you know.” She lifted her glass to her lips, and then added, “A bartender. It must be the tattoos and the ear piercing. You hardly look like a lawyer.”

John stifled a sigh and fanned the shirt away from his chest, feigning as though it were the afternoon heat and not irritation that was drawing the breath out of him. He had just opened his mouth to divert the conversation—a thing he’d done several times that evening already, perhaps evidence enough of his skills as a lawyer—when Elliot returned, saying, “Mama, you’re being obnoxious.”

“I’m not,” Scarlet defended. “Come here, bunny. Did you cut your hair? You know I love it long.”

It was like this, always. No amount of sweet-talking would have brought Scarlet into the fold for him; she was as impervious to charm as she was apparently to alcohol poisoning, unfortunately, which meant she was living long and remaining a thorn in his side until her long-awaited passing.

She really liked Jacob. For whatever fucking reason. It only served to make John more determined to try and win her over, even when he felt like his attempts were fruitless.

As Elliot explained that no, she had not cut her hair, her mother just hadn’t seen it in a few months, he heard Scarlet say, “Oh, I expect I’ll have grandbabies at this table soon anyway, then I’ll be seeing you all the time. Don’t you think, Elliot?”

Oh? John thought, swallowing a mouthful of his drink. Scarlet wants grandkids, is that all?

“Oh,” Elliot said, blinking owlishly. “I—”

“Absolutely,” John said, without thinking, because there was no way he wasn’t taking an in with Scarlet when he saw one. It was an instant rush of dopamine to see Scarlet look at him with anything other than thinly-veiled contempt, let alone with pleasant surprise.

“We’re—” Elliot stopped and looked at him, as though he’d just sprouted a third arm. “We’ve only—it’s—we’re not in a rush—”

“But it would be fine,” John continued, “if we were. Planning, I mean.” His eyes darted from Elliot to Scarlet. “For kids.”

Joey said serenely, “John and Elliot have always been on the same page. Very like-minded individuals.”

“Well, Hudson, I don’t think that’s fair,” John defended plainly, “as we all know you’ve barely gotten to know me.”

“Don’t need to,” Joey replied, not having looked up from her plate once, “to know you’re not trying to get Elliot pregnant and you’re just pulling it out of your ass to get Scarlet to like you.”

“You wouldn’t know,” he snapped.

“So,” Scarlet said, feigning confusion, “you are planning to have children soon, then? Bunny?”

“We’re not!” Elliot exclaimed. She groaned, trying to gather herself before she continued hurriedly, “John and I haven’t bothered talking about children because we’re not in a hurry. We don’t have a plan. We’re not planning anything. Right? John?”

John busied himself with his food. He still felt the petulant little sting from Hudson’s words—he knew she didn’t like him—but with Scarlet looking at him, clearly leaving an opening for them to be in agreement about something, well. He’d be stupid not to take it, wouldn’t he?

“Of course, baby,” he replied casually, “but no reason in waiting, either.”

Scarlet looked pleased. An expression of understanding crossed Elliot’s face; and it wasn’t that she was pleased to know what he was doing—but that she understood he was trying to squirm his way into her mother’s good books, and that alone was enough to set her off.

She said, “Excuse me,” before abruptly pushing her chair out. John sighed.

“Elliot,” he started, reaching for her hand.

She yanked it out of his reach and said, under the sound of Joey chatting pleasantly with Scarlet about the older woman’s garden, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Her words were venomous. John was certain that Scarlet heard her, too—if the quick, furtive glance their way was any kind of indication—which only made them sting more, like maybe her mother had wanted them to be at odds this whole time and he’d just done exactly that. And hearing Elliot say that kind of thing to him when she so frequently confided in him that she found his touch to be grounding, calming to her just made it all the worse.

John retracted his hand, reluctantly, and instead picked up his beverage from the table to take a big swallow. He let a minute or so pass, muddling his way through Joey’s pleasant conversation with Elliot’s mother and her own parents before he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I think that’s best,” Scarlet replied, and sipped her martini.

Inhaling through his nose, John made his way back into the house—this time, under less-fun pretenses; last time he’d been following Elliot to slide his hands up under her skirt, but now she’s—

“Are you fucking stupid?” Elliot demanded once he’d stepped foot inside the kitchen.

“Don’t be mad,” he tried, reaching for her, “I was just working the—”

“If you say working the room in reference to telling my mother we are planning on having children soon,” the blonde ground out, tugging her arms out of reach of his hands, “you’d better pick a god and start fucking praying, John Seed.”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” John exclaimed. “Your mom really hates me. I saw an opportunity to score some points, and I went for it. You missed the whole conversation earlier where she asked me if having tattoos means I go to hell, according to Joseph.”

Elliot stared at him. She was clearly still pissed off, arms crossed over her chest and a pretty, frustrated little blush rising in her cheeks. John lifted his hands, like he was afraid of spooking her (or maybe preparing to dodge a blow), before he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll go right out there and tell her in no uncertain terms will I be fucking a baby into you any time soon.”

“Good,” she snapped, letting his hands come to her face now. He cradled his palms against her cheeks, watching the little furrow of her brows, the way the blush under her cheeks made her freckles come to life.

“Unless you want me to,” John added, tucking some hair behind her ear, “because that’s pretty sexy, and we can do it right here in this kitchen, if you’d like.”

“Speak for me again, and I’ll punch you in the throat.”

“O-kay, message received loud and clear.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, chaste and innocent as can be. “So, no fucking in the kitchen?”

“John.”

“Okay, okay, just checking.” He could feel her smiling reluctantly against his mouth, and he said, “So you want me to go out there and make a big fool of myself in front of your mom, huh?”

Elliot sighed. “I know she’s—a lot. I know she’s not kind to you. But please, please do not entertain this weird legacy fantasy that she has. You know she doesn’t even want me to take someone else’s last name? It’s fucking insane. Honeysett isn’t even her maiden name.”

John hummed in understanding, and then kissed her once, twice, three times. “For you, I will suffer the consequences of my actions,” he promised. “But for you and only you.” He saluted dutifully. “Into the fire.”

She watched him, mouth twisting in amusement as he wandered towards the patio’s sliding door again. “Godspeed, soldier.”

He heaved a sighed.

“It’s not much, but it’s honest work.”

#hey? jess?#i love u #thanks for ALWAYS HOPPIN IN HERE #UR JUST RAD #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #my writing #writing prompts #ask games #far cry 5 fic #john seed x deputy

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imjeralee · 4 years ago

Text

Wallflower: Chapter 5 - The Long Day

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers.

You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

THE LONG DAY

...

It's been a long day.

A match has just finished. He lost, again. The gym challenger jumps up and down happily whilst he recalls his fainted Duraludon and the sandstorm subsides. There's sand in his eyes but he forces himself to blink through it. The crowd's cheers gradually die down as both challengers make their way to the middle of the pitch and shake hands.

"Congrats." Raihan says, before he goes over his rehearsed line. He's said it so many times, he's lost count. He hands out the Dragon badge, gives them a TM as a gift and sends the gym challenger along their merry little way. He'll also keep his eyes peeled whether the gym challenger makes it to the finals or not.

The audience leaves, the stadium grows quiet and Raihan retires to the changing rooms where he pulls off his hoodie, leaving himself in his dragon uniform, plops himself down on a cold, hard bench, removes his headband and checks his phone. He goes through his selfies and opens his trusted app, uses the filters and chooses which one suits his liking. When he's finished with the minor edits, he posts it up on his account and a slew of likes and comments appear within several seconds of being uploaded.

'Great match, Raihan!'

'Loser'

'Ur so hot my king <333'

'Lost again, huh? not surprised'

''I get how u like to use weather in ur battles - sandstorm, rain, hail - but that was a pure shitstorm'

'Sending u so much luv, ur ma precious bby (ง︡'-'︠)ง'

’DADDY’

'Marry me!!!'

'Maybe if u spent more time training ur pokemon rather than taking selfies, u wouldn't b a shitty trainer. Just sayin ¯\_(ツ)_/¯'

'can I suck ur cock??'

The comments are mixed, needless to say. He scrolls down the growing list until he spots one from a fan with a username that seems familiar to him. The message says 'Plz go 2 Spikemuth??? I know u lost but I’ll always b ur biggest fan'.

Huh. Interesting. He hadn't been to Spikemuth for a long time and he hadn't seen Piers for a while either. Checking his Rotom calendar, he sees that he doesn't have any matches scheduled until next week. Maybe he should go and unwind, take a quick break. Replying to the message, he says 'Great idea!'. He doesn't even need to pack anything because he'll just be there for one night; instead, he merely books a return ticket from Hammerlocke to Circhester online and grabs his hotel keycard. Being a gym leader meant he had several privileges, including a twenty four seven hotel room courtesy of Macro Cosmos in Hotel Ionia.

Once he arrives in Spikemuth, it's already nighttime and he hits the nightclub after visiting Piers. He doesn't remember the name of the club but he frequents it and before he enters, he snaps another photo of himself and uploads it.

Inside, the nightclub is bustling. He's used to this type of scene and he goes to the bar, orders a drink. The first drink is on the house because he comes here so often. Although he's alone, he's approached various times by attractive women of all shapes and sizes who take selfies with him. In almost every photo, they stick their tongue out and do the peace sign. The amount of people who recognise him and go up to him as the night goes on makes him a little exhausted, so he doesn't stay in one area of the club for long, opting to change seats often. As soon as he's changed seats for the umpteenth time, he's immediately approached by a girl in a black dress; she's very attractive and slim.

"Hi." She says coolly, looking at him through half-hooded eyes.

"Hey." He replies, taking a sip of his drink.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugs.

She smiles widely. "I'm Louisa. Are you gonna buy me a drink or you gonna leave me hanging?"

He takes another sip of his drink and settles the glass on the counter. "Sure."

Calling the bartender over by waving his hand lazily, Louisa excitedly takes the seat beside him and he allows her to order what she wants. It's something expensive but he puts it on his tab. For a few minutes or so, they chat and flirt, and she orders more and more drinks and her words become garbled and she asks him invasive questions which he’s used to, then she tells him she wants to be as rich and famous as he is and asks him for his secret. When he tells her there is no secret, her demeanour changes - she rubs her foot against the length of his leg before she slips out of her barstool and tugs at his hand playfully, inviting him to dance. He lets her take the lead and once on the dance floor, she begins grinding against his hips and taking his hands with hers and putting them on her waist.

Louisa's pulling some pretty bold moves but he finds himself looking away and it's then Raihan spots a girl sitting amongst a group of women in one corner who are chatting loudly; he remembers that interview he did recently and this girl - he has never seen her before and she is definetely not a gym challenger either - but she fits everything he described. He can't help but stare. She's wearing a tight, black dress which she doesn't seem to be comfortable in as she sits at the very edge, looking rather lost as she holds her drink in hand. She doesn't even look like she's enjoying herself. He watches her for a few moments or so, noticing how she lifts a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and glance at her companions before she shifts her gaze to her lap. She's clearly not at home here. Raihan stares at her for a little longer than intended, drinking in the sight of her until Louisa steps on his foot with her pencil heel.

"Oh! I'm so sorry - " She says, before she immediately slams a hand over her mouth and rushes away - and promptly projectile vomits all over the floor. Looks like someone’s had too much to drink. She collapses and some concerned members of the public go help her out.

After making sure she's okay, he watches as she's carried out and returns to his seat and orders another drink. He downs it in one sip and wipes his mouth, finding his eyes glued on this other girl who’s captured his eye and piqued his interest; he sees her leaving her seat and walking towards his direction. It appears she's been asked to order drinks because she's the only one sober. Raihan watches her; she walks right past him, not even batting an eyelid.

What the Bidoof? She totally ignored him!

Doesn't she know who he is???

He observes her as she returns to her seat, balancing three drinks on a tray which her friends end up making her drink. A while later, she seems to be drunk as well because she heads to the dancefloor on her own, looking around and swaying slightly. Raihan finishes another drink and his head's throbbing too but what the hell - he wants to talk to her so he heads over and once he reaches her, he slides an arm around her waist and she looks up.

"Hi, do you wanna dance?"

She squints her eyes at him; she didn't hear him over the loud music. "...What?"

He repeats his question.

"I don't...I don't talk to strangers." She manages to slur out.

He's fairly amused; she's so cute, like a little Skitty with her pink cheeks and somewhat dazed expression. "I'm not a stranger, I'm Raihan."

"Who?"

He pauses, momentarily stunned.

Then he grins.

A girl who doesn't know him.

What are the odds, really?

...

Present.

There's a team of investigators at your house; the box has been removed and they opened it.

A pokemon's heart was inside.

You didn't see it but these men dressed in white came and took something red and fleshy out and deposited it into an icebox. The date has ended miserably; you sit on your sofa with the front door open as Looker’s team scour the rest of your house but the culprit is long gone. After taking down your testimony, you wonder what's going to happen next - Looker speaks to a man in scruffy shorts, flip flops, t-shirt, cap and sunglasses. People would've thought this man was a hobo but it was actually Chairman Rose in his civilian disguise. You can't hear what they're talking about but it can't be good. His secretary stands stiffly in silence with her hands clasped together, looking rather solemn.

Raihan sits beside you and you're stuck in his embrace. He's been hugging you the entire time but you feel he needs a hug more than you do because no-one should be facing this alone and also, you are grateful he's here so you wrap your arms around his waist and when you look up at him, he smiles at you reassuringly and pecks you on the forehead before snuggling you, and you do the same. It feels good to be in his arms, even though the date is over and there’s random men in your house, going through your things and trampling over your nice pristine carpet with their mucky boots.

Luckily, your Pokemon were fine - you flung open your door and when you saw Drifloon and Phantump in the living room, you pulled them into a hug and returned them to their pokeballs. Then you looked around for Espie and found her sleeping in your closet so you quickly returned her safely into her ball as well. Poliwag never left the bathroom and was swimming in your bathtub which he had filled with water so you quickly recalled him too. You tucked all your pokeballs into your safe box and counted them three more times just incase. Everyone's accounted for. Thank Arceus, your Pokemon are unharmed. You will call Glenn later and ask if he can pop by your house and look after your Pokemon if he’s free.

What a shit way to end the first date you have with Raihan. You'll remember this for the rest of your life. Oh boy, what a story to tell the grandkids. Jokes aside, the Chairman's presence here doesn't bode well because you know once he finishes talking to Looker, he will probably speak to the both of you. This is bigger than you, Raihan and Looker...no matter how much you wanted to keep the Dusclops in the closet. More and more people are getting involved and will find out about the one night stand. This is humiliating.

Groaning, you close your eyes and Raihan hugs you even tighter than before that your lungs might pop. "Are you okay?" He's asked you that question a few times now.

You're not okay and you don't know whether to humour him or not, so you utter, "This isn't the first time I've seen a dead pokemon. Did I tell you that too?" Sarcastic, cynical response it is. He doesn't deserve it but you can't help yourself in this situation.

"Yeah," He replies (thank goodness he's not offended), "I'm sorry I got you involved."

"It's not your fault."

You resume your cuddling but it's cut short when Chairman Rose finishes talking to Looker and begins heading towards your house and enters through the front door. His secretary follows silently. Immediately, you climb out of his lap, allowing Raihan to stand up and you follow his example, except you begin to tremble slightly until Raihan squeezes your hand. Once Rose is directly in front of you, he exchanges glances between the two of you before he smiles warmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Rose and I'm the Chairman of the Pokemon League. You must be Raihan's new belle." He says.

Belle? Like the character from the popular, classical movie, Beauty and the Buzzwole? This guy is kind of weird. There's something off about him but you can't just put your finger on it.

Before you can even speak, Rose turns to the gym leader and adds, "Raihan, it's been a while since we last saw each other; usually I have no business in your affairs but this time....well, where do I even begin?" He's smiling but you don't think this conversation is heading to a good direction.

"Chairman Rose." Raihan greets him; he's different when dealing with this man. He's more stoic and serious. "We're taking care of it. I've got Looker helping us."

"I'm taking your word for it, but I'm disappointed in you. Get this sorted out right now. This could ruin everything I've worked for and I'm not taking any chances. Why else do you think the paparazzi aren't going crazy over this? I'm paying them to keep their mouths closed."

Raihan's expression doesn't change. "I'm aware."

"I'm glad you understand the severity of the circumstances here." With that, Rose turns and leaves. The tight-lipped woman doesn't say anything and follows after him.

There's a brief silence between the two of you until Raihan sits down on the sofa again.

"Raihan?" You mutter; he keeps his eyes trained on the floor but he looks up when you sit down beside him. "What did he mean? Is...is that why...when the photo of us got posted online, it just vanished the next day? I mean, okay, I guess it's a godsend something else came up but...did Chairman Rose really pay the press off? I'm sure that man won't do things for free......Is it coming from your pay cut?" Although you're not sure exactly how Raihan's making money - either from being sponsored by various companies or individuals, or from his social media - you're not sure but now that you think about it... well, you didn't think about it until now.

He nods.

Oh, shit. Your lip trembles slightly and you rub your elbow awkwardly. "Oh, Raihan."

"It's fine. I didn't want you to worry or get hurt." Raihan says, smiling gently before he reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers with his. You gaze at him worriedly and when he drops the smile, you carefully pull your hand free from his and taking a deep breath, you attempt to calm your thundering heart as you awkwardly slide your arms around him. This is your first time taking the initiative and your cheeks feel warmer than usual. He realises this too and he looks at you in surprise before you give him a squeeze. So... here you are, showing affection and care.

"I think it's best if we lay low after this." You mutter, "Chairman Rose is right. This is getting worse...and your career might be ruined. It's not worth it."

In response, he gives you a tight squeeze.

You hear someone clearing your throat and that's when you both throw your glances over. It's Looker; he looks slightly disgruntled. "Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to check if you’re both okay.”

“Thanks, Looker,” Raihan replies, "We're fine."

”Good.”

As he begins to leave, his Rotom hovers into the air and exclaims, "Bzzzt! Confirmed visual! Suspect is at Rose Tower!"

"Thanks, Rotom. Let's go."

You turn to Raihan and your gazes meet. "...Should we go with him?"

....

Looker leaves Ballonlea and makes his way to Rose Tower; arriving at reception, he shows the receptionist his badge and proceeds to tell her he's looking for someone. He gives a name - a female's - and the receptionist checks internal employee records and informs him this particular employee is located on the fifteenth floor, belonging to the IT department. Looker thanks her and enters the awaiting lift. He's only been to Rose Tower a few occasions and discovers it's quite a sterile environment. He watches various Macro Cosmos employees walking around, all donned in the casual, cool uniform, with the hat and shades and the funky-looking triangle shaped pokeball holders stuck to their hips. They're all role model trainers - friendly, intelligent and hip.

Rotom did an excellent job - Raihan's biggest fan is a Marco Cosmos employee who lives in Spikemuth. It was typical - drunk father, dilapidated environment, hundreds of photos of Raihan in her room... This will be over soon.

Once the lift doors open, Looker finds the next reception desk and asks the lady for the girl and where she sits; the lady asks if she should call her - Looker says no, but asks for access inside - the lady kindly grants permission to enter the IT floor using her pass. Once inside, there are rows and rows of desks in open plan all filled with large computer screens - many employees are looking at two or four screens at one time, tip-tapping away rapidly into their computers. There's numerous Porygon floating around but they don't pay attention to him.

Looker goes up to a random employee and asks if he knows where the girl is. The employee tells him that she's at a booth and points down the hallway. Looker curses and makes his way as quickly as he can to the hot desk area where he sees a lone girl with her back to him, sitting at one of the terminals. Looks like she's in the middle of uploading something. Shit, it's not the video, right? A Banette stands beside her and once it senses Looker's arrival, it tugs on her elbow and hisses, a rattling noise emitting from its body.

"Stop!" Looker yells; he's just a few feet from her and the girl abruptly turns round in her swivel chair. "Don't do it."

It's a young girl; maybe even younger than Raihan's current girlfriend. Looker wasn't sure what to exactly expect but she seems perfectly normal. "Who...who are you??" She demands, clearly stunned by his arrival.

"Don't do it." Looker says sternly; he doesn't bother with any introductions. "I know who you are and what you did. Are you sure you want to do this to Raihan?" Looker points to the computer where the screen is frozen with the commands 'Confirm' or 'Cancel' and she throws her glance to the monitor. "Do you have it in your heart to do something like this to him? Is this something you really want to do? Think about it. If you press that button, you'll ruin everything he's worked for and you know he's worked hard to get to where he is now."

The girl looks annoyed at his words, "I-I don't know what you're talking about. Please leave."

"I went to your home and spoke to your father, and I found the hotel room with the slot behind the light switch where you put the camera. We know what you did to the Deerling. Do you really want to go through with this?"

He's expecting some kind of angry response, some form of retaliation to his claims. However, she merely closes her eyes, re-opens them and says, "You don't understand, nobody does. If I don't do this then he won't even bat an eyelid at me. I did everything for him. He is my everything. I've done everything for him and it's still not enough. He didn't see me at all. He doesn't see me...why doesn't he see me? I do so much for him. I comment on every video and photo, I go to as many matches as I can, I changed myself, I changed my hair, my eyes - but it didn't work, nothing did."

"And are you happy with yourself? With who and what you have become?"

She grows silent.

"You aren't, are you? You probably don't recognise yourself anymore. You probably don't even know who you are anymore. Deep inside, you know this is wrong."

"She was one step ahead. It should've been me, it was supposed to be me."

"But it wasn't. And now you're angry, you're upset and betrayed."

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

A brief silence spawns before she casts her morose gaze to the floor. She utters, "He helped me get up every morning....helped me get through the day. If it wasn't for him, I probably would've killed myself a long time ago."

"I understand." Looker replies, "If you really love him, then you would forgive him."

Before the girl can say anything, however, there's the sound of footsteps approaching and Looker turns to see Raihan and his girlfriend standing at the hallway along with a random Macro Cosmos employee - looks like they've just arrived and everyone seems stunned to see each other.

Chaos ensues:

"What's going on here?!" The Marco Cosmos employee demands.

"Goddamnit, what the hell are you two doing here?!" Looker barks angrily; he rarely loses his cool, but this...? Motherfurret!

"What the...what is she doing here?!" The obsessed fan begins to screams; her calm demeanour vanishes at once and her expression turns murderous as she glances at Banette. "Go Banette, attack! Use Shadow Ball!" She promptly turns to the computer and Looker fumbles for a pokeball.

"Growlithe, stop her!" He throws the capsule and releases the puppy pokemon who immediately dashes over and bites on the sleeve of her uniform, pulling her arm away from the mouse but she's able to start the upload.

Banette's Shadow Ball hurtles towards the gym leader's direction; Raihan releases his Duraludon to shield his girlfriend whilst he also throws himself over her. She cannot react in time to Banette's attack but a pokeball stuck to her waist opens up and a burst of light appears, revealing another pokemon that blocks the attack along with Duraludon - it's a Garchomp - and it immediately retaliates with a Dragon Claw, knocking the Banette out in one smooth hit. Looker rushes up to the desk and grabs the mouse, cancelling the upload before it reaches one hundred per cent. Banette's attack bounces off Duraludon and the room grows silent.

”No, Banette!” The obsessed fan screams as Growlithe tugs her away from the computer and Looker quickly pulls out the USB device. With her other hand, she grabs a pokeball off her belt and tosses it forwards, “Druddigon, go!"

As a massive pokemon appears and attacks Growlithe, she is released and she quickly returns her fainted Banette into an Ultra ball before making a run for it. Looker chases after her as she disappears into the emergency exit.

...

"Beldum, use Take Down!"

From that day on, you took Beldum outside to train everyday. The mountains near your home was an ideal place and after a few days of scouring, you found a small patch of grass containing weak pokemon which you could use to train Beldum, namely Trapinch who are at a level much lower than Beldum. You direct Beldum when to attack and avoid and when the Trapinch faints, you jump and down on the spot with joy.

"Yay! You did it!"

Beldum turns to you, eye curling with happiness. You can't always tell what it's thinking but you know it enjoys training. You can also feel it's growing stronger as the days pass. Beldum is not strong enough to face other pokemon so you only have him face Trapinch and so far, you're also noticing that his attack stats are getting stronger compared to his others.

"Phew! Let's go home!" You exclaim, "It's been a long day."

Beldum nods in agreement. You've used up all your potions to keep his health up; no worries though, because Glenn will be going to the pokemart tomorrow and you can ask him to buy some for you. As you return Beldum to his pokeball, suddenly it disappears from your hand and you're shoved from behind. Landing on the ground, your knees scraping in process, you look up to see a group of boys on their bikes who are clutching Beldum's pokeball. Urgh, if it isn't Graham and his little gang.

"Hey! Give me him back!" You yell angrily as you get up wobbly. Your knees are bleeding and so are your palms, but Beldum was more of your concern.

"You want him? Then come get 'im!" Graham exclaims, before he starts pedalling away on his bike. His cronies follow and you growl under your breath, grabbing the handlebars of your bike and lifting it off the ground. You follow the boys as fast as you could go, going deeper and deeper into the forest and up a steep mountain path until you see them up ahead and looks like they've ditched their bikes to crouch in front of some bushes; once you arrive, you climb off your bike and run up to them, furious.

Before you can even yell, Graham grabs you and slaps his grubby hand over your mouth, silencing you. "Shhhh! It'll hear you!" He hisses and you blink, wide-eyed.

He drags you towards the rest of his group where they're spying on a large dragon pokemon in a cave that is hunched over a Deerling... it's a small, feeble thing - and your eyes widen as you see the large pokemon smash the Deerling's head into the ground and it lets out a weak but horrifying, pained bleat until it stops moving. Growling low, the massive dragon pokemon begins to sink its jaws into its body and tear at the flesh. Using it's massive claws, it proceeds to tear the body apart and you see nothing but blood and entrails. The boys are staring, transfixed, whilst you watch in horror. You try to escape but Graham's grip on you is too strong as he forces you to watch, much to your disgust.

"W-what is it?" One of the boys asks.

"I think it's a Druddigon."

"And it's eating that Deerling!"

In unison, they all coo in awe even though you're horrified and repulsed and you try to escape once more, your foot stepping over a twig and causing it to snap loudly. Everyone gasps as the Druddigon immediately turns its head to your direction and the boys make a run for it; Graham lets go of you and pushes you to the ground once more and your head smacks against the dirt. As you sit up, your vision is slightly blurred as you watch the boys grabbing their bikes and pedal away, leaving you behind. You don't know where Beldum is until it appears in a burst of light and hovers in front of you protectively.

"Beldum!" You exclaim with relief. Glancing around, you find Beldum's discarded pokeball and grab it, just as a massive shadow covers your form and you look up to see the huge Druddigon before you. It lets out an insanely loud roar and you scream, throwing your arms over your head to brace for impact -

- but nothing happens.

Lowering your arms, you glance over to see a small blue pokemon with a red tummy that has stopped the Druddigon in its rage; it stands alongside your Beldum, facing off against the dragon. It waves it's little arms and snaps its jaws as it attempts to kick sand at the Druddigon and you know it's using Sand Attack.

A Gible?

Standing up, you know neither of the pokemon are a match against the Druddigon so you recklessly grab your Beldum and the Gible and take off running.

....

Oh crumbs, Looker had almost calmed down the culprit but your group ruined it by waltzing into the scene. Neither of you were aware, of course; you and Raihan had merely arrived at Rose Tower and asked if anyone had seen Looker. A kind Macro Cosmos employee said yes and agreed to take you over to see him. However, the moment you saw that Druddigon and fear gripped you like ice. It's been a long time since you've been afraid and you’re brought to your senses when you hear Garchomp growling and you blink, turning to him.

"Chompy?"

Garchomp emits another growl; you know he's asking if you're okay.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that. Thanks for saving me."

He nods and then turns to the Druddigon.

Ah, that's right. A Gible came to save you that day. It just came out from nowhere and once you successfully ran away from the Druddigon, it decided to stay with you and Beldum. Ever since you added Gible to your team, you trained him until he evolved into a Garchomp and now he's one of your most reliable fighters along with Metagross. You smile fondly at Garchomp as he waddles in front of you and you quickly come to realise that Raihan's Duraludon is fighting the Druddigon; he's whittled down the Druddigon's health until it's weak and you hastily issue a command to finish it off: “Garchomp, use Dragon Claw.” You instruct, and your pokemon strikes down your opponent with speed and strength like no other.

Druddigon is quickly knocked out and Raihan turns to you and your pokemon, grinning. "We make a good team."

You're not sure what to think - Looker was handling it fine without you two. "We shouldn't have come. What were we thinking? We're not ten years old anymore. I'm too old for this." You reply, and Raihan chuckles. Turning to the Macro Cosmos employee who has escorted you to Looker, you see he's busy on the phone informing his superiors about an emergency - also, the entire IT hot desk area is in complete disarray. Your skirmish with Banette and Drudiggon has resulted in many upturned computers and chairs and a few broken desks.

"C'mon, we need to help Looker." Raihan says, reaching for your hand.

You nod and you both recall your pokemon, then head towards the direction where Looker and the girl sprinted off to.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins and your pulse is racing. This is definitely a date to remember. You're going to remember this day for a long time. You reach the emergency exit, opening the doors where you see the stairs as well as three lifts. It's eerily silent - if Looker was chasing the girl, you would hear them, right? Two of the lifts are heading up, so naturally you assume they've taken the lift - looks like it's going to the very top floor - and you and Raihan immediately jump into the third lift once it arrives and take it all the way up. This very exciting moment is temporarily put on hold as you stand side by side and listen to dingy elevator music on your way to the top; Raihan even attempts to take a selfie. He tries to include you in the photo too but you're not in the mood for photos so you politely decline.

Once the doors slide to an open, action rears it's ugly head again - you and Raihan find yourself in a huge outdoor arena; the air here is terribly chilly and you can feel strong gusts of wind blowing from the stands. Your breath comes out in short puffs and you begin to shiver but you see Looker and the obsessed fan ahead; they have finished a pokemon battle with Looker recalling his fainted pokemon. You and Raihan rush up to him but he holds his arm out.

"Don't do anything rash." He warns, and you take note of the obsessed fan who is standing a distance away. The moment she sees Raihan, and her eyes widen with fright.

"Thanks, Looker. What's her name?"

Looker tells him.

"Thanks, I'll talk to her." Raihan mutters.

"Wait, don't - " You and Looker speak in unison, but Raihan is already walking towards her. You help Looker stand on his feet and you both watch Raihan approach the girl. The atmosphere feels terse, thick with tension.

"Hi," He says, smiling, "You're my biggest fan, right?"

"Y-yes, I am." Strange, she's very timid all of a sudden.

He says her name and she nods.

"You....you know my name?"

"Of course I do."

She clamps a hand over her mouth in shock before tears begin bubbling in her eyes.

"Thanks for supporting me. If it weren't for you, for all of you, things could've turned out a lot differently for me. Thanks for being there for me. I get a lot of harsh comments, but you've always cheered me on. Thank you."

She nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, of course I will!!! You're so important to me, I-I - " She clutches her chest, "I can't believe this, you're...you-you're actually talking to me. I-I've always imagined this! And it's really happening!" She can't seem to control herself now as she splutters and stutters before she reaches for him. She wants to touch him and she begins making her way towards him. Raihan doesn't move, allowing her to approach. What the hell?! You try to interrupt but it's too late - as soon as she's in arm's length of him, you see her pulling a knife from behind her and Raihan doesn't realise -

You release Garchomp from his pokeball and he executes a Slash, causing the knife to go clattering out from her hand. She whips her head to you, furious; Raihan exchanges glances between the two of you whilst Looker hurriedly collects the knife.

"I challenge you to a pokemon battle!" You find yourself yelling out; you need to avert her attention from Raihan or else she'll try to pull a stunt like that again should she get the chance. Enraged, the obsessed fan accepts the challenge, grabs a pokeball from her belt and releases her pokemon. It's a Garchomp, too.

"Garchomp, use Dragon Tail!" She directs her pokemon to attack first.

"Outrage!" You yell, and you watch as both Garchomp lunge at each other. You will show no mercy. The moment they clash and you wince as the Dragon Tail connects with your pokemon; your Garchomp assaults the opponent at the same time and both pokemon land on the ground. Her Garchomp wobbles slightly before collapsing. Success! The enemy Garchomp is knocked out cold and your Garchomp is still standing!

Annoyed, she recalls her fainted Garchomp whilst yours stands proudly in the arena, victorious. She chooses her next pokeball and throws it high into the air. "Go, Dragonite!"

You return Garchomp, thank him for his hard work and choose your next battler. "Go, Tyranitar!"

Raihan watches you and your pokemon with his arms crossed and a smile; you know he's impressed but there's no time to waste.

"Hyper Beam!" The obsessed fan commands, and the Dragonite begins gathering energy in its mouth.

"Ice Punch!" You yell, and Tyranitar acknowledges your instruction with a roar and slams one arm towards the direction of the Dragonite's belly. A cluster of thick ice surrounds your Tyranitar's claw which proceeds to ram into the Dragonite and it stops in mid-attack, promptly knocking out the dragon pokemon with one hit. It's super effective!!!!

The Dragonite is recalled and there's only one pokeball attached to her belt; the obsessed fan is down to her last pokemon. You wonder what her final pokemon is - and she tosses the ball onto the field. A Hydreigon appears in a burst of light and you stare as she quickly returns it; a bright red light appears on her wrist and begins to gather around her - she has a Dynamax band - and she grabs the ball which has become enlarged and throws it high into the air, revealing the Dynamaxed Hydreigon. It promptly flaps its massive wings and a fierce gust of wind almost knocks you off your feet if Tyranitar didn't help by shielding you.

"Thanks, boy." You say, as Tyranitar growls affectionately at you before turning to face the gigantic Hydreigon. "It's Dynamaxed but don't be afraid."

Tyranitar throws it's glance to the ground, twiddling it's claws together timidly.

"You can do it! I believe in you!!" You pat him on the back, and Tyranitar returns to the field. "Use Stone Edge!"

Your Tyranitar nods and emits a roar; the ground shakes and just as the Hydreigon is beginning it attack, Tyranitar summons enormous pillars of rock that burst out from the ground and slams into the Hydreigon without delay. Although it's not a super effective move, the attack hits the Hydreigon square in the chest and it begins to explode in a glorious display of fire and light before it begins to return to normal size. He did it!!

Raihan and Looker watch as the dust clears away. The obsessed fan is out of pokemon. Your pokemon had completely and utterly decimated her team in minutes and her jaw drops in disbelief.

"No!" She yells, furious. Distraught, she looks around the arena shakily before she runs for the railings - you know what she's trying to do - before she can throw herself off, Raihan has grabbed her, hauling her away from the edge just in time. She lands in his chest as he drops over the floor and she attempts to wriggle free, flailing violently. Although you wonder if she's got another knife hidden somewhere, you get the feeling she's out of options and now she is truly helpless. Raihan sits up with the girl who's crying heavily and she's immediately intercepted by Looker who takes out a pair of handcuffs, slapping them on her wrists.

You recall Tyranitar, rush over to Raihan as he gets up to stand, grinning at you. Without thinking twice, you throw your arms around him; he's taken aback by your action, eyes wide, before he chuckles and quickly wraps his arms around you in return and scoops you off the ground; you find your feet leaving the floor and you quickly adjust yourself to this new position, slipping your arms around his neck whilst he keeps you hoisted up with his arms tucked under your knees, your chest pressed against his.

"You idiot, you could've gotten killed!" You can't help but scold him.

Your faces are close as he clutches you. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Not good enough." You retort, "Don't do that ever again!"

"Okay." He leans in and quickly pecks you on the mouth and you find your anger subsiding; you can't stay mad at him.

The two of you then turn to Looker who is escorting the obsessed fan out of the arena and towards the lifts. She's still crying uncontrollably, and Looker glances at you and Raihan. "Good job," Looker grunts out, "Thanks for your help, I appreciate it."

"What's going to happen now?"

"You both need to come with me to the police station." Looker replies, and Raihan - still carrying you - begins to trail after him.

"You can let me down." You tell him but he merely smiles at you cheerfully.

"Nope, I like carrying my princess like this ~ "

...

At the police station, there's a lot to do but Looker releases both yourself and Raihan after a few hours; you have provided another set of testimony and it does appear the case is closed. He thanks you for your efforts in stopping the obsessed fan and also your assistance with police investigation. Unused to receiving compliments, you stuttered out that you didn't do anything substantial. Meanwhile, there is some damage to Rose Tower but Macro Cosmos will deal with this themselves and Looker will ensure there are no repercussions on you and Raihan. When you ask Looker what will happen next, Looker informs you that the fan is charged with a number of crimes - recording illegally, blackmail, abuse of employee rights, invasion of privacy, attempted murder and pokemon slaughter. It will depend if charges are to be pressed - in a few days, she could stand trial and her pokemon, confiscated.

Attempted murder? It sounds serious and you scratch your head in befuddlement. It's taking a while to sink in that you were in a dangerous situation earlier...it's like something out of a crime drama or an action movie. Again, these sorts of stuff might happen to your friends, yes. Just not...you.

You can't help but wonder how Raihan feels. Is he doing well? Should he see a counsellor after this? Is he traumatised? You stand at the vending machine, slotting in coins for two fresh waters. You collect the drinks and turn round to see Raihan sitting quietly with his gaze trained on the floor. He's not on his phone, either. You sit down beside him and hand him the bottle of water; he thanks you, unscrews the lid and takes a few gulps.

You both sit in silence for a while until you say, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He breathes in and exhales gently then leans back on the seat, resting his elbows on the chair and looks up at the ceiling. You guess he isn’t in a mood to talk - which you will respect so you don't press him any further. However, he reaches for you, lifts you off your seat and eases you into his lap. He lifts you up as though you weighed nothing. You blink owlishly as he encircles his arms around your waist and buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You're unmoving for a few moments before you slowly wrap your arms around him. Your action prompts him to clutch onto you tighter, his grip on you increasing.

It becomes a full body hug with your chest pressed tightly against his and your hips knocking together, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck whilst he holds you by the waist. You’re so close to him you can feel his breath on your cheeks. You rest your chin on his shoulder and give him a little rub on his back. His muscles are tense. You hope he will loosen up but all Raihan does is hold you close to him and you can feel the warmth that radiates from his body as well as his steady heartbeat. This actually feels...nice.

There's never a dull moment with Raihan, because he begins trailing little kisses over the side of your face as you cling onto him. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he presses another kiss over your cheek and finally, your lips.

...

Once you return home, you open the door to see Glenn in your living room, playing with your Pokemon. He's wearing a Hydreigon hood with Hydreigon sock puppets on each hand. You bristle at the sight but say nothing. Meanwhile, Espeon sits at his feet, watching. Even Poliwag has left the bathroom and is now sitting in the armchair to his left. Upon your arrival, everyone looks up and Glenn removes the hood and grins widely at you, "Yo!!! How was the date?"

You exhale loudly as you trudge over, removing your bag and collapsing over the couch beside him; you drop your head on his shoulder and groan. "It was fine. I have something for you." You take out Ponyta's pokeball and hand it to him. Glenn has been looking for one for a long time and you know he really wants one, so you figured you'd gift it to him.

"Ohh, a pokemon! This is so exciting! I wonder what's inside?" Glenn takes the pokeball off you and opens it, releasing the horse pokemon and for a few seconds, he's stunned as it lets out a high-pitched whinny and clops its hooves. Glenn's jaw hits the floor. "Oh my Drowzee, whaaaaaat! No way!! Whaaaaaaat? Nooooo, it can't be - whaaaat!"

"Yep, it's a Galarian Ponyta."

He lets out a hoot of joy. "Thanks, sis!!!!" Glenn exclaims cheerfully as he reaches over and pinches at your nose with his fingers hidden behind the Hydreigon puppet before he rushes over to the Ponyta and throws his arms around it. "Ohhh, you're so beautiful, yes you are!! I'm gonna call you 'Sugarplum'."

You giggle as Glenn continues fawning and doting over the Ponyta who neighs in response as he hugs it. It appears to have taken a liking to him immediately and he returns it to the ball, grinning widely. "Thanks, sis!"

"Raihan caught it but he gave it to me.”

He blinks. "Really?! That's amazing! Can you thank him for me?"

"Of course."

You and Glenn settle on the couch again where he continues where he left off with the Hydreigon puppet, "Hydreigon used Dazzling Gleam!"

You wrinkle your nose in response; you don't remember Hydreigon being capable of using this fairy type move, but you're well aware Glenn likes to improvise a lot. "Do you have another puppet?"

"I sure do." Glenn fishes around his bag and gives you a puppet - it's an Espurr with pink beady, glassy eyes - and you promptly drape it over your right hand. Phantump and Drifloon watch, engrossed. "Hydreigon used Dark Pulse!"

"Nooooo, it's super effective!" You cry, shaking your puppet and Espeon hisses angrily at Glenn, "But Espurr clung on using it's Focus Sash! Espurr used Play Rough!"

"It's super effective!!!" Glenn roars, throwing his fists into the air, "Hydreigon regained a little of it's HP using its Leftovers! Hydreigon used Dragon Pulse!"

"Espurr fainted!" You yell, and you make the Espurr puppet squeak with pain before doubling over. Phantump trills loudly in response whilst Poliwag and Drifloon looks between the two of you. And Espeon is still hissing in dismay. When it grows silent, the two of you burst into laughter before you drop to the couch, exhausted.

"Long day, huh?" He asks, when you stop laughing.

"Yeah," You say, "...It was a long day."

...

#raihan x reader #raihan #Raihan x you #wallflower #jeralee #archiveofmyown #fanfic #fic #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemon shield and sword #kibana

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dlwritings · 5 years ago

Text

My Princess | Peter Parker (pt 3)

masterlist found here

pairing - Peter x reader word count - 2,843 warnings - oral (f receiving), clumsy first time sex A/N - for the anons who requested a part 3! | Peter and reader are both 18 in this

summary - You and Peter finally have your moment.

(part 1) (part 2)

Your morning hadn’t gone to plan. You had stupidly forgotten that it was Saturday and you were scheduled to work. You worked at a small coffee shop that your aunt owned only on the weekends, so you couldn’t call in and fake sick. Peter was devastated. “(Y/N),” he whined as you rushed around your room to get ready.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” you said, pulling your t-shirt off and putting on your bra. You tugged off your underwear and put on a clean pair before standing in front of your closet, pushing through your clothes trying to find something to wear. You weren’t even aware of Peter watching you, so you jumped out of your skin when you felt his hand on your waist. He reached into the closet and grabbed a hanger, pulling out a brown corduroy skirt with buttons that you knew he liked. You nodded and paired it with some black tights and a skin-tight black long sleeve turtleneck, tossing the outfit on quickly.

“Can’t you call her?” he asked as you sat in front of the mirror to do your makeup.

“No, I really can’t,” you said, applying your mascara. “She needs me on the clock. I’m the only one there at this time of day.”

“What am I supposed to do all day?” Peter asked.

“Homework?” you teased, glancing at him in the mirror reflection. “Superhero duties?” Peter groaned dramatically and fell back on your bed. You giggled and finished up your hair and makeup before walking over to the bed. You crawled over to him, straddling his waist and putting your hands on either side of his head. He let out a sigh and put his hands on your waist.

“Don’t do this to me,” he said.

“Do what?” you said, gently grinding your hips against his. You had a playful smirk on your face as he gently guided your hips against his.

A second alarm went off on your phone, signalling that it was time for you to leave. Peter tried to get you to stay, but you pushed yourself away from him and got off the bed, straightening your outfit and giving him a smile. “Be here when I get back?” you said. His eyebrows raised as you smiled knowingly at him. He nodded back, so you grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

Peter left your house soon after you did just so he could go home, shower, and change. On the way, he was buzzing with plans for the evening. Tonight was the night. He knew. The night before and that morning were just the opening acts. This was the main event. How could he make it as perfect as possible?

When he got to his apartment, May was home. “Have a good night at the compound?” she asked as soon as he walked in. That’s where he had told her he was. Not with you.

“Mhm,” he hummed casually. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

When he got out and was changed and ready, he packed a new bag for the night -clothes for the morning, clean boxers, toothbrush and toothpaste, and everything else he’d need. “May!” he called as he started to leave. “I’m gonna be out all day. Spending the night at the compound again! Don’t wait up!”

“Use protection!” May called back. This made Peter freeze in his tracks. He turned to see her standing in the kitchen, her arms folded across her chest.

“W-What, uh, what are you-” He mirrored her position and laughed awkwardly. “What are you talking about?”

“Please, Peter,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat up, as he turned back to the door to leave. “I love (Y/N),” May continued, “but I don’t want any grandkids yet.”

“Okay, bye, May!” he yelled.

“Make sure she pees after, or she’ll get a UTI!”

Before she could say anything else, Peter left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Yikes.

Peter had a lot of plans for the night. Dinner was involved as was… the main event. So, he made a run to the store to pick up the necessities before heading back to your place. Your shift at the coffee shop didn’t end until 5:00, and it was only 12:00. Peter decided to hang out around your house, not at all wanting to spend another minute with May. The five hours went by agonizingly slowly.

When Peter heard the front door open, he was in the middle of an episode of The Simpsons. He jumped up from the couch, pressing pause on the TV, and greeted you in the kitchen. You looked tired as you tugged off your heeled booties. You blew some hair out of your face as you looked up at him. “Hey, babe,” you said, letting out a heavy breath. Peter frowned slightly.

“Tired?” he asked, walking over to you and putting his hands on your waist. You wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him, just wanting to feel him hug you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “It was weirdly busy today.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling away from you. You gave him a smile.

“No worries,” you said. “Anyway, I’m hungry. What should we do for dinner?”

“I’ve got that covered,” he said, his smile lighting up. You quirked an eyebrow and followed Peter. You expected him to go to the dining room, but he ended up heading to your room. This only confused you further. When he opened your door, your own smile widened. On the floor, Peter had laid out a blanket. A few candles were lit around it, and he had ordered Chinese takeout.

“You’re amazing,” you said to him, placing a soft kiss to his lips. He smiled and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “I’m gonna change first, okay?” Peter nodded, so you grabbed some clothes out of your drawers and went into the bathroom. You changed into some spandex and a Stark Industries hoodie you had once stolen from Peter. It was your go-to after work outfit, and it just so happened to be one of Peter’s favorite outfits on you.

He tried not to stare too obviously at your ass when you bent over to put your dirty clothes in your hamper. You joined him on the floor and started to dig into the food. While you did that, Peter turned on your TV. “Should I put on a movie?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, sitting criss-cross-applesauce and shoving some chicken in your mouth. “How about that new one with Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston?”

“Murder Mystery?” Peter said. You nodded, so he clicked the title and immediately started eating the food as well.

By the time the movie was done, you and Peter had been finished with your food for a while and had migrated to the bed for some cuddles. You had your head on his chest and your hand on his stomach, and his arm was around you with his hand on your ass. You both sat and watched the credits, each too comfortable to move.

Peter finally grabbed the remote and shut off the TV, then looked down at you with a dorky smile. “Hi,” he said, leaning close to brush his nose against yours.

You giggled, “Hi.” Peter closed the distance between the two of you with a soft kiss that quickly turned more intense. You were desperate to get close to him, moving so you were sitting on his lap. His hands traveled under your sweatshirt. He was desperate to feel your skin against his in any capacity.

“Peter,” you whispered, willing yourself to pull your lips away from his.

“Hm?” he hummed, his eyes still closed.

“I want to do this.”

Peter opened his eyes at this and stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Yeah?” he said. You nodded. “Yeah,” Peter agreed. “I want to, too.”

Peter laid you down on the bed, slowly pulling your sweatshirt over your head. While the mere idea of having sex with you was enough to get Peter hard, he knew girls needed more foreplay. And that was fine by him. All he could think about was the pretty noises you were making yesterday and how sweet you tasted. He kissed across your chest, taking time to make both of your nipples hard. You were breathing heavily, squeezing your eyes closed at the feeling. You felt Peter leave a few hickies across your chest and neck, and you knew you’d be limited to turtlenecks and scarves until they were gone.

When Peter’s lips got to the waistband of your spandex, he pulled them down and found his mouth watering when he realized you weren’t wearing panties under them. “Mm, you were ready,” Peter teased, letting his breath fan across your lower lips.

“Shut up, Pete,” you breathed out. He laughed and kissed your clit before pulling back and rubbing your outer lips with his thumbs.

Peter loved the power he felt he had over you. He was fully clothed, yet there you were, naked and vulnerable and desperate for his touch. And you were only going to get what he was going to give you.

The thought made his dick twitch in his pants.

Peter pressed his mouth against your pussy, savoring your taste as you moaned above him. The noises his actions were making were borderline pornographic, and you were a moaning mess above him. While Peter continued eating you out, he slid a single finger inside you, pumping it slowly as you lifted your hips, desperate for more.

Your moan turned into a whimper of Peter’s name, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Peter pulled away from you and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. You sighed and rested your hands above your head, staring up at him in anticipation. Peter reached into the pocket of his joggers and pulled out a condom. You took it from him so he could pull off his sweatshirt and kick off his sweats and boxers. You ripped the condom open, and he helped you put it on him.

“I- I, uh,” Peter stuttered. “I brought some lube too. It might, it might make it feel a little better.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. Peter -slightly clumsily- got out of bed and grabbed the lube he had brought. He almost put some on his hand, but you reached your own out. “Can I do it?” you asked. Peter almost moaned at the pure, innocent look in your eyes as he nodded and handed you the lube. You took the lube, put some on your hand, and rubbed it up and down Peter’s shaft. He bit his lip and tossed his head back as you gently squeezed his cock and moved your other hand to play with his balls.

“(Y/N),” he said, reaching down to stop your movements. You looked up at him. “I, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that, okay?” You giggled slightly and nodded, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

The two of you got under the covers, and Peter hovered above you, brushing some hair away from your face. “You gotta let me know if, if something doesn’t feel good,” Peter said. “Or if you want to stop or anything like that.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding your head.

“And tell me what you want,” he said. “Like-”

“Peter,” you said, cutting him off and putting your hand on his cheek.

“Yeah?”

“I want you inside me right now.”

Peter let out a shaky breath and nodded. You cocked your head to the side and stroked his cheek with your thumb. “Pete?” you said.

“Mm?”

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I do!” Peter said. “I just-” He sighed. “I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t,” you assured him. He didn’t seem convinced, so you threaded your fingers in his hair and pushed his head down to yours, pressing your lips together. He seemed to relax into the kiss, and you smiled. “I love you,” you told him.

“I love you, too.”

Peter lined himself up with you and slowly thrust into you. You lost your breath, your mouth hanging open and your eyes shut. Peter took your hand and laced your fingers together, holding your hand to the mattress. Your other hand grabbed his bicep, squeezing it so tightly, you were probably leaving nail marks on his skin. “Are you okay?” Peter asked, letting out another shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Just, just hang on a second.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Peter said. He leaned down to nuzzle his face in your neck, leaving soft kisses against your skin. You moved your hand that was on his bicep to his hair, letting your nails drag across his scalp. He let out a whimper and pressed another kiss to your neck.

“Okay,” you said softly. “You can move.”

“Okay,” Peter repeated. He slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in, trying to maintain a steady pace. He struggled to find his rhythm, and it was all a bit sloppy and awkward. But not in a bad way. In a way that reminded you that this was your first time, and Peter’s first time, and you got to experience that together. If anything, knowing that made everything feel even better. Peter groaned as your walls squeezed around him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed out, trying to focus more on the pleasure than the discomfort.

“What can I do?” he asked. You unlaced your hand from his and took two of his fingers into your mouth. He moaned as you sucked them softly, getting them wet before bringing them down to where your bodies connected. Peter got the not-so-subtle hint and started rubbing circles on your clit. He tried to focus on keeping up steady thrusts while also making sure his fingers were doing their job. When you let out a soft moan of pleasure, he figured he must’ve been doing a decent job.

“Oh, Pete,” you whimpered.

Maybe more than decent.

“How’re you doing, princess?” he asked.

“G-Good,” you stuttered. “Can you-” You let out a shaky breath. “Can you go faster?”

“My, my fingers or-”

“Both,” you said. “Please.”

Peter moaned at the desperation in your voice and started to quicken his movements, thrusting into you a bit faster and letting his fingers rub quicker circles. You moaned, digging your head back into the mattress. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last, and truthfully, with the stimulation on your clit and the fact that Peter’s cock kept hitting so deep inside you-

“I think I’m close, Pete,” you whimpered. He moaned and pressed his lips to your neck again, trailing a few kisses down your chest.

“Me too,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck, (Y/N), I’m so close. Cum for me, princess. Wanna feel you, feel you squeeze my cock.”

“Shit, shit,” you whined. You grabbed Peter’s head and forced his lips against yours again. He pried your lips open, his tongue massaging yours. After a couple thrusts, you felt Peter twitch and cum inside you. That combined with a few more quick rubs of your clit triggered your own release. Peter held himself up, not wanting to fall on you, but you gently pulled his body down so he was laying on top of you. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing delicate kisses to your skin as he softened inside you.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, kissing directly below your ear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Made me feel so good, Pete.” Peter smiled against your skin, then leaned back so he could place a proper kiss to your lips.

Peter pulled out of you, tied off the condom, and got up to throw it away in the bathroom. When he got back to the bedroom, you were snuggled under the covers, and Peter’s heart warmed at the sight. “Princess?” he said, kneeling beside you and stroking your cheek.

“Hm?” you hummed back, not opening your eyes.

“Why don’t you get up and go to the bathroom?” he said. “May said-” He cut himself off just as your eyes popped open.

“May said?” you repeated, sitting up slightly. You tucked your hair behind your ears and tried to fight back a grin.

“I didn’t say that,” Peter said, standing up and grabbing his boxers off the floor.

“Yes you did!” you giggled. “Oh my god, did you tell May about this?”

“No!” he said. “She, she guessed?”

“Oh my god,” you repeated, pushing yourself out of bed. You grabbed Peter’s sweatshirt and pulled it over your head, then placed a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re so lucky you’re cute, because you’re an absolute dork.”

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TAGLIST

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #smut #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spider-man #spider-man imagine #marvel #avengers #request

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sunmoonandeddie · 6 years ago

Text

feelings are fatal (3/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,639

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing

masterlist

a/n: I realized that I really enjoy writing Peggy and Bucky interactions. Let me know what you think!

Bucky sighed as he pulled on his t-shirt, moving his head side to side until he felt a satisfying pop. It had been four days since your trip to Central Park, and while he thought you were feeling a little better, sometimes he couldn’t tell. There were moments when you’d be giggling and joking with Wanda and the others, but then sometimes he’d catch you with your eyes glazed over. You would see what was going on around you and react in a somewhat appropriate manner, but it was like you were wading through water.

There was a soft knock on his door and it creaked open to reveal Sam. “You ready?” He asked, leaning against the frame.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said as he looked back at himself in the full length mirror. He looked… relatively normal. His t-shirt, his jeans. The baseball cap on his head. He’d taken to not covering his arm as much, at least when he knew he was only going to be seen by his friends, the people he trusted. He turned towards the door and began to follow Sam out, but he hesitated, asking, “Is she awake yet?”

Sam shook his head with a bit of a smirk, nodding towards your new room that was a few doors ahead. “Nah. She’s still out from what I know.”

And he knew. He knew that Sam would give him shit for it, but Bucky tiptoed down the hall towards your door anyway, tapping into his Winter Soldier training. When he didn’t get a response, he gently opened the door without so much as a creak. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he sees you curled up under a huge comforter, surrounded by an overabundance of pillows. One of your arms was tucked under the pillow as you laid on your stomach, your hair fanning out behind you. You looked so peaceful, so pretty, that he was sure his heart was going to burst. For once you’re not restlessly tossing and turning on the living room couch, you’re not being plagued by nightmares.

He’s just happy that you’re actually getting some sleep.

He carefully shut the door with a soft click, hoping desperately that it won’t wake you up. It was only eight in the morning and you deserved to sleep in, despite the fact that your usual training schedule from before the Snap happened had always started this early. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a need for that for a long time.

Sam shot him a knowing look as they headed for the garage, grabbing a set of keys from the plethora beside the garage door. The two of them never grabbed one pair specifically. They just chose and random and then figured it out when they actually got there. Sam hit the lock button as they stood in front of the row of cars, and he smirks as he hears the telltale beep from further down the line. “Bentley it is.”

“Damn,” Bucky deadpanned. “I was hoping for one of the Audis.”

They didn’t say anything for the first three and a half hours of the four hour drive to Buffalo (it was supposed to be five and a half but Sam didn’t care much about the speed limit). Well, they did a little when they stopped in a drive thru—a McDonald’s, Bucky thinks it’s called—but only saying “Get me whatever” doesn’t really count. They listened to the music softly playing—something from Sam’s phone that’s hooked up to the Bluetooth—and watched the scenery.

“You’re sweet on her,” Sam said out of the blue, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

And Bucky whipped his head around so fast he’s surprised he didn’t break it. “What? No, I’m not. Why would I—”

“Bucky,” he said, effectively shutting the other man up. “Don’t lie to me. More importantly, don’t lie to yourself.” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re sweet on her. That’s completely normal.”

“Is it?” He asked with a groan, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.

“Yes.”

He leaned his head back against the headrest. “She’s my best friend’s girlfriend. It’s weird and a little more than creepy.”

“Was. She was your best friend’s girlfriend. That’s an important distinction.” And Sam can’t help but grin, shaking his head. “And how the hell is it creepy?”

“They just broke up, like, a month ago.”

“I’m not saying go after her now,” he said, shaking his head in slight disbelief. “That would be creepy.” He rolled his shoulders back. “But in a few months or so, when she’s not heartbroken anymore... I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with asking a pretty girl out for dinner. Or coffee, if that would make it easier on you.”

Bucky let out a huff of air as he crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly ignored his somewhat best friend. “I’m not asking her out.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam said with a deep sigh. “But I’m telling you, if you let that one go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

And he knew that his sort-of-kind-of best friend meant well. Really. He did. But it still frustrated him to no end that he just had to go poking his nose into matters that didn’t concern him. As far as Bucky was concerned, the matters of his heart didn’t concern anyone that wasn’t himself, and sometimes not even him.

“She’s taking Morgan out for a movie today,” he said, his voice barely audible as he made a point to stare out the window. Anything to avoid Sam’s ever-knowing gaze. That man could read anyone, and he really didn’t want him to see just how nervous he was. It was going to be the first time you’d left the compound since that Final Battle without another Avenger. And while he knew that you could handle yourself, he was still anxious. Just thinking about it made his hands start to shake. The world was still finding its way and there were still people who wanted to pretend as though billions of people hadn’t returned from the dead. They were ransacking and looting, attacking people in broad daylight.

And he felt so stupid because even though you could handle yourself—you were an Avenger, just like the rest of them—he wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and keep you safe from the rest of the world.

“I didn’t know they’d be coming out with new movies so soon,” Sam said, his brows furrowing.

Bucky sighed as he picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “They’re not. The movie theatre in town is just getting up and running again, and they’re playing old movies. I think she said something about The Little Mermaid.” And he doesn’t know what that one is, only that it’s a Disney movie that came out past his time and he’d really like to see it with you, but he promised that he’d visit—

“Here we are,” the other man said as he turned onto the long driveway that led up to the Roger’s household.

And once again, Bucky is absolutely floored by the life that Steve has created here. The driveway is long and winds up through deep trees that are in full bloom. Mostly towering oak trees, though he does see a few sycamores. The two-story house is painted a soft yellow and has a white porch that wraps around the entire thing. The front door was open, letting the summer breeze in through the storm door.

Sam threw the car into park and when the two of them stepped out, the hundred-year-old man could hear the faint sound of jazz coming from the house. An easy smiled tugged at his lips as he saw the familiar woman step out onto the porch, wiping her hands on a rag.

“Bucky! Sam!” Margaret Carter-Rogers shouted as she waved at them enthusiastically.

“Hey, Peg,” Bucky said as he climbed up the porch steps. He can’t say how amazing it feels when the elderly woman pulls him into a hug because one, he’d missed her, and two, he didn’t get many hugs. The metal arm tended to put off a lot of people, but never Peggy. The first time he’d seen her, after Steve had showed up all wrinkly and actually old, she hadn’t hesitated in embracing him. She didn’t shy away from his arm. “How are ya, doll?”

“I’m doing just fine, Buck,” she said as she pulled away before pulling Sam into the same embrace. She patted the other man’s cheek before leading them into the house. “Steve’s in the kitchen.”

And the fact that his best friend loved cooking—and that he was actually really good at it—still surprised him. But sure enough, there he is. He had on one of those aprons with ‘Kiss the Cook’ embroidered on it and that’s just what his wife—his wife of fifty-two years now—does. She stood up on her tiptoes to press a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips, and it’s so intimate that Bucky feels the urge to look away, to give them a bit of privacy.

Steve turned, his blue eyes lighting up as he sees his two best friends. “Hey! There you two are! Lunch is almost done.”

“I’m gonna go and wash my hands,” Bucky said, pointing towards the hallway. It was easy enough to find the bathroom and wash his hands, but as he dried them on the soft blue towel, he caught his own eye in the mirror and just stopped. It’d been a while since he really looked at himself. He ran his fingers through his beard, which had started to get more than a little out of control. I wonder if Y/N likes it, he thought to himself before shaking his head. He really can’t have those thoughts. At least, not when he’s in your ex’s bathroom.

He flicked off the light as he left the bathroom, and though he knew he should head back to the kitchen, he hesitated. The laughs of his friends were floating down the hall as he took in the many different photographs that were hung up on the wall. There were a lot of just Steve and Peggy, but there was even more of their family. Their kids, their grandkids. There’s a huge horde of Rogers and it amazes him.

Bucky jumped almost a foot in the air as he heard the soft feminine voice, and he’s a little ashamed since he was supposed to be the deadliest assassin in the world and that means he doesn’t get snuck up on. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” She asked as she sidled up beside him. “Seeing all of this?”

“You have no idea.”

She grinned, and he gets a flash of the first time he met her, trying not to smile at Steve with her lips painted a perfect shade of red. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, and I can truly say that my children and grandchildren are my greatest achievement.”

“Really?”

“Let me tell you, Barnes,” she said with a soft laugh. “Running one of the best spy organizations in the entire world is a walk in the park compared to raising children. Especially ones that are half super soldier.”

He can’t help but laugh as he nods towards one of the pictures that has the entire family in it. The look on Steve’s face is one that he rarely saw after breaking free of HYDRA. He’s content, happy, peaceful. “You have no idea how much I wanted him to have this. A good life. A happy one.” His blue eyes rested on the woman beside him. “Thank you for giving him that.”

“I spent years trying to move from him after he went into the ice,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her eyes were glistening as she remembered how awful it had been. “I went on quite a few dates, but… None of them were my Steve.”

“You two were always going to be brought back together somehow,” he said, and he truly meant it. “Even back in the forties, we could all see it, even if you two couldn’t.”

“He told me about everything that happened after he came out of the ice. How he came back to me,” she said. Her hands were wringing together anxiously as she turned to look at the pictures on the wall. “He told me about Y/N. How much she meant to him.” She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing it for a moment. There was a strange tension in the air around them. “How is she doing?”

And he didn’t know how to answer. “Y/N is… She’s surviving. I took her to Central Park the other day to get her mind off of everything and that seemed to help, even though she refused to get on my motorcycle because it reminded her of Steve’s,” he finally sighed, knowing that he had to tell the truth. If he didn’t, Sam would let it out sooner or later and then Peggy would have his ass, regardless of how frail she was. “She keeps pretending as though she didn’t lose anything, like she doesn’t have the right to be upset. She won’t even accept the fact that it’s okay to be upset over losing Natasha, and she was like her older sister.”

Peggy was silent for a long time as they stared at the photographs, at all the smiling faces. There were a lot of candid photos mixed in with all the somewhat formal ones. Ones of their three kids in their pajamas on Christmas morning, of them running around with sparklers in their hands and dirt smeared on their faces. “I’d like to meet her,” she said. “One day, when she’s ready.”

“She’d love to meet you, too.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Steve asked as he came around the corner. “Lunch is ready.”

The brunette walked over and kissed his cheek, his baby blue eyes fluttering shut as he relished the feeling. “Just about how grateful I am to have you.”

And Steve whispered something in her ear that Bucky couldn’t hear even with the serum, but he knows that it’s something heart wrenchingly sweet. And his heart felt so full as he clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder and followed him to the kitchen.

“Auntie Y/N, can we go to more movies?” Morgan asked as the two of you made your way into the compound. Her tiny hand was in yours, her dark eyes looking up at you hopefully.

You grinned down at her, reaching down and picking her up. “Of course, we can.”

As soon as you were on the residential floor, Pepper was greeting you and pulling the little girl from your arms. “Thank you, Y/N,” she said gratefully with a warm smile. “But it’s this little one’s bath time and then bed.” She nuzzled her nose against the little girl’s. “What do you say to Y/N for taking you to the movies?”

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” you said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She was then carried off by her mother, leaving you alone in the communal living area. You stared out of the large windows for a long time, taking in the night sky. You and Morgan had spent all day together until it was time for the movie at seven. By the time you’d gotten home the sun had set and it’d gone dark.

It was a little strange, being in the compound. It was so different from the old one and yet almost exactly the same. You’d lived in an apartment with Steve for five years after the Snap, so lucky none of your things had been destroyed in the Final Battle. It was only after you all realized that your home was destroyed that Pepper revealed that Tony had built a second compound a few hours away, only an hour outside of New York. It was meant to be a backup plan in case anything happened, and it certainly did. You and Steve had only shared your new room for six days after the Final Battle before he finally went to return the stones and never came back.

Getting almost everyone to move into the new, slightly smaller compound was relatively easy. There was this urge to be together again after spending so much time apart. Especially Pepper. You’d been the only one allowed out to the cabin to visit during those five years other than Natasha and you two getting to be close to each other brought back a sense of normalcy, a sense of comfort. It hadn’t mattered that Tony and Steve weren’t on good terms, you were like another adopted kid of the Starks, just like Harley and Peter.

You kicked off your shoes as you made your way to the kitchen, not really caring that you’d left them in the middle of the floor. No one really cared about petty things like that anymore and it wasn’t like you wouldn’t pick them up later.

Right now you just needed a drink.

You were standing on your tiptoes, trying to grab a wine glass, when you felt two someone press against your back and saw another arm reach up and grab it for you.

“There you go, sugar,” Bucky said, his breath tickling your ear as he set it carefully on the counter.

“Thank you,” you said with a weak laugh as you turned your head to look up at him. “You want some wine?”

“Why not?” He asked before reaching up to grab another glass while you pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge.

As you worked on getting the cork out, you asked, “When’d you get home? I figured you and Sam would be in Buffalo until tomorrow.”

And to be honest, he was a little surprised to hear you speaking so frankly about them making the trip further upstate. “Just twenty minutes ago. We only stayed for a few hours after lunch.” He watched as you poured two generous glasses before passing him one. Even though he couldn’t get drunk unless he was drinking Thor’s Asgardian mead, he took a long swig of it, loving the sweetness of the Moscato. “How was the movie?”

“The Little Mermaid is my favorite Disney movie, so it was good,” you said with a faint smile. “It was nice getting out of the compound. I think cabin fever was starting to get to me.”

“How can you have cabin fever in a place as big as this?” He laughed, nudging you with his elbow playfully. Ignoring how you mock-glared at him, he then grew serious. “Nobody gave you any trouble though, did they?”

You shook your head, more than a little touched by how concerned he was. You knew that some would be offended by the slight insinuation that you couldn’t take care of yourself, but you knew that wasn’t the case. Bucky knew you could take care of yourself; he just didn’t want you to have to. “No, no one bothered us.”

“You know you can call me at any time, right?” He asked, his pretty blues staring into your eyes. “If you’re outside of the compound and anyone bothers you?”

“Yes.”

Bucky looked at you in shock, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, uh. Okay. Good.”

You grinned against the lip of your wine glass, taking a sip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You stared down at the wine in your hand, swirling it as you lost yourself in a train of thought. You weren’t sure if you actually wanted to ask the question on your mind, but at the same time you knew you needed the answer. “Do you remember me?”

And oh. He hadn’t been expecting that. He stood there, a little dumbfounded with his mouth opening and closing.

You peeked up at him nervously through your long eyelashes. “Do you remember me from the Red Room?”

Bucky took in a deep breath before letting it out, long and slow. His heart was pounding against his ribcage. He knew he couldn’t lie to you, couldn’t keep you in the dark. “Yes.” And he’s scared. He’s scared of how you’d react because even it took him a while after meeting you as Steve’s girlfriend, he had realized that he had met you before. He’d been in a different mind then, since he’d been the Winter Soldier, which is why he still thought of it as your first meeting when Steve had brought you along on the run. He’d helped train you for a few years in the Red Room. He could remember how he stood behind you, growling in Russian to do better, be better. Had threatened you if you didn’t. He’d been one of those horrible people that tormented you before you made your separate escapes.

So you could say he’s a little surprised when you simply nod, finishing off the glass of wine in your hand. “Okay.” You then set your glass in the sink before heading for the hallway that led to your room. You reach the doorway and turn, your stunning eyes locking onto his. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

There was a sense of unease in the air as he stared after your retreating form, his heart still racing. He couldn’t understand how you could take it so easy, unless you were hiding how you actually felt and waiting until later to explode on him. In all honesty, there was only one thing he was sure of.

Things just got a little more complicated.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #endgame spoilers #endgame

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