#yes I know I’ll focus on set to love first don’t worry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muiitoloko · 24 days ago

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I had another idea that has been swirling around in my mind, this one being an Alan Rickman one. Basically he and a younger actress have been going around doing interviews on tv for their new movie which is a film about an older man being with a younger woman. They talk about how they got to know one another as they knew in the movie there would be some quite intimate scenes. The actress starts to notice with some tv presenters that they seem to have a sly dig at Alan regarding his body shape, which starts to make the actress furious. The actress can tell it is having a negative effect on Alan, so she reassures and/or comforts him regarding it and telling him how a lot of people do in fact find him physically attractive and they will love seeing him in this movie because of it. This could be a fluff, smut or both, whatever you decide.

I hope things turn around for you soon.

Title: More Than Looks

Summary: When the interviewer shifts focus to Rickman's appearance, [Your Name] steps in, redirecting attention to his talent and the undeniable magnetism that make his performance unforgettable.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: implied betrayal, criticism, implied sex.

Author's Notes: Thank you for the request! I’ll admit, I considered adding a smutty twist but got a little lazy 😅—sorry about that! I hope you still enjoy it. I based this on my story “Rehearsal” but no worries—you don’t need to read that one to follow along with this.

Also read on Ao3

It was funny how quickly things had shifted. What had started as pure excitement about promoting your film with Alan Rickman had now grown into a simmering frustration as interview after interview seemed to focus on his body, often with a subtle—or not so subtle—hint of judgment. Each time someone commented on his appearance, criticizing or even questioning his suitability for a role so intense and passionate, your patience wore thinner. Could these people not see how breathtaking he was? That commanding presence, his quiet confidence, the way he could make you feel utterly captivated with a single, steady gaze? His charm, his wit—this was the man who had brought your character’s forbidden desires to life so vividly, and they were missing it entirely.

You were seated beside him on a popular late-night talk show, the host launching into a lighthearted question about how you two met on set. As you shared stories of your first impressions and the awkwardness of those early rehearsals, you spoke openly about how you’d been a fan of his films long before you’d ever met him.

Alan smirked, his signature half-smile playing across his lips as he glanced at you with those intense hazel eyes that had you captivated every day on set. “I suppose I wasn’t quite what you imagined in person,” he said in that smooth, baritone voice, a touch of self-deprecating humor lacing his words.

The host laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, come on now, Alan. She’s not likely to say anything that would wound your pride, surely?”

Alan tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you with a twinkle of mischief. “Careful now, or she might mention a certain comment about my…” he trailed off, glancing down with a smirk, “…my ‘intensity,’ shall we say.”

The host leaned forward with interest. “Intensity! And how did you manage all that intensity, [Your Name]? These scenes were rather… spicy, from what I hear.”

You smiled, sharing a glance with Alan as a flush of memories filled your mind. “Well,” you began, trying to keep a playful tone, “let’s just say Alan has this incredible way of… drawing you in. He doesn’t just act the part; he lives in it. And when he steps into that kind of role—one with such intensity, that undeniable tension—it’s… overwhelming, in the best way.”

Alan chuckled softly, crossing his legs and resting his hand casually on his knee as he met the host’s gaze. “Yes, it was a difficult part to research, I’m afraid. I had to be… persuasive,” he added with a knowing glance at you. “It’s challenging, you know, making someone fall for you when they’re… resistant.”

The host laughed, clearly entertained by the way Alan turned the conversation around, but you could sense Alan’s subtle irritation at how much attention the questions kept turning toward him and his body. He was so much more than that, and you wanted everyone to understand it.

Trying to turn the conversation toward his talent, you jumped in. “Alan doesn’t just play the role of a forbidden lover. He brings this… raw energy. There’s this controlled power to his performance that made the scenes feel… almost too real.” You shot him a grin, recalling your rehearsal. “And sometimes, that energy meant improvising, going off-script, capturing moments of raw emotion. That’s part of what made those scenes so… powerful.”

Alan raised an eyebrow, his expression half amused, half intrigued as he considered your words. “Ah, yes, the ‘raw energy,’” he teased, his voice low and suggestive, but his gaze softened as he looked at you. “Well, I had some good motivation, wouldn’t you say?”

The host leaned forward, clearly delighted by the chemistry between you. “I imagine filming those scenes required quite a bit of… trust?”

You nodded, your eyes meeting Alan’s as you replied. “Absolutely. Alan made it so easy to lose myself in the role. He has this way of looking at you, and suddenly, the world fades away. There’s only him, and it’s impossible not to… fall under his spell.”

Alan chuckled, his fingers tracing the arm of his chair in that calm, deliberate way he had. “And isn’t that the essence of a forbidden romance?” he mused, his voice dipping into a rich, velvety tone that had you transfixed. “To make the audience feel that desire, that… need. Even when it’s wrong. Especially when it’s wrong.”

The host, catching on, leaned in with a sly grin. “So, tell us, how did it feel when that camera rolled and the scene came to life?”

Alan’s lips quirked, and he glanced at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Well, I’d say… electric. When you’re close to someone, barely breathing, the heat between you almost unbearable. And then… you cross that line. It’s a moment of surrender,” he murmured, looking directly at you, his words laden with the weight of that memory.

You held his gaze, the electricity between you as real as it had been on set, and a warmth rose to your cheeks as you replied, “Every scene felt like stepping into fire. Alan made it feel like… like something dangerous. Impossible to resist.”

As the conversation on the talk show continued, the host, always eager to keep the audience engaged, leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "Well, folks," he announced with a flourish, "before we wrap up, let's take a look at the trailer for this sizzling new film that's been making waves."

You and Alan turned to the screen, anticipation building as the lights dimmed and the first scenes unfolded. The camera panned over your character, Emily, a young woman with a hopeful, carefree spirit, enjoying a drink with friends, blissfully unaware of the storm her life was about to enter. Then came the scene with Michael—played by an up-and-coming actor—her charming boyfriend, laughing over drinks, his hand resting on her shoulder. The music took on a more tense note as Emily and Michael walked into a room, and there he was—Alan’s character, Thomas.

The atmosphere thickened as Emily’s eyes met Thomas’s across the room, the tension instant and undeniable. Even through the screen, you felt the intensity of that first encounter, the magnetic pull between them. Thomas’s sharp gaze lingered on Emily just a moment too long, his baritone voice greeting her with a warm, yet somehow calculating, “Emily, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Michael’s told me so much about you.” The unspoken challenge in his tone was subtle, but unmistakable.

You could feel the audience's curiosity deepen as the trailer cut to a scene between Thomas and his son, Michael, the two of them exchanging loaded words over a glass of whiskey. Alan's face was shadowed, the low light accentuating the sharpness of his hooked nose and the intensity in his hazel eyes as he spoke, his tone laced with bitterness. "Michael," he said, his voice a silky drawl, "you’ve always been so… predictable.”

Michael’s response was defensive, bordering on anger, the tension between father and son palpable as the trailer hinted at a deep-seated rivalry. It was clear that Thomas’s resentment simmered just below the surface, and it wasn’t long before that bitterness took on a new focus: Emily.

The trailer flashed back to a scene of Thomas and Emily alone, the ambiance dark, thick with unspoken longing. Alan's voice, in a low, almost predatory tone, murmured, “You’re different from what I expected.” His fingers reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his gaze intense, calculating. Emily visibly tried to resist, but her breath quickened, her eyes betraying her struggle to hold back from the attraction that drew her to him.

The screen flickered to another scene—a candlelit room, Emily standing by the window, looking torn and vulnerable. Thomas appeared behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Why fight what we both know you want?” His tone was rich, seductive, layered with that familiar Alan Rickman edge that could make even the most innocent words feel like a sin.

You felt your own pulse quicken as the trailer showed the forbidden dance between them escalating. The sound of Thomas’s voice echoed through the studio as he muttered, “This isn’t about him. It’s about us. And you know it.” His fingers slid along her jawline, coaxing her to face him as his lips found hers, the scene charged with a desperate, guilty need that had both you and the audience breathless.

As the trailer transitioned into the hot, forbidden scenes between Thomas and Emily, the tension on screen thickened, pulling the audience into the dangerous web of their affair. Each stolen moment was a study in contrasts: Thomas's raw dominance against Emily's trembling vulnerability, her guilt palpable but overshadowed by her overwhelming need. The music, dark and pulsing, set the tone as Thomas’s hands slid down Emily’s arms, his fingers lingering on her wrists as he pinned her against the wall.

“Why fight this?” Thomas’s voice was a rough whisper, his hazel eyes filled with a fierce, relentless desire. “You want this, Emily. You want me.” His tone was commanding, giving no room for denial, and as his lips claimed hers, you could feel the forbidden desire practically vibrating through the screen.

In another scene, Thomas’s hands explored every curve of Emily’s body with a hunger that bordered on obsession. His baritone voice dripped with lust as he muttered in her ear, “You belong to me now, Emily. Don’t even think about him.” The camera lingered on their entwined bodies, capturing every stolen kiss, every whisper of guilt-tinged passion as Thomas claimed her, the heat between them all-consuming.

But beneath the lust and forbidden connection, Emily’s guilt simmered. In one heart-wrenching moment, Michael, her boyfriend and Thomas's son, looked at her with absolute sincerity, his eyes filled with a tenderness that twisted the knife of her betrayal even deeper.

“I love you, Emily,” Michael said softly, his fingers brushing her cheek as he held her close. She forced herself to smile, but her eyes betrayed the storm raging inside her, torn between the comfort of Michael’s love and the fire of Thomas’s dangerous seduction.

The screen cut back to Thomas and Emily in a hotel room, dimly lit and shadowed. Thomas, in full control, had Emily pinned to the bed, his hands pressing her wrists into the mattress as he loomed over her. His gaze was dark, challenging, daring her to deny what was unfolding between them.

“You think you can go back to him, pretend nothing happened?” he sneered, his breath hot against her skin. “No, Emily. You’re mine now. And I’ll make damn sure you remember that.” His hands traced down her body, his grip possessive, his words laced with dominance. Each move, each breath, each kiss felt like a declaration of ownership.

As the trailer built to a crescendo, the final scene shifted to a formal dinner setting. Emily sat beside Michael, who was oblivious to the secrets she kept buried beneath her polite smile. Across the table, Thomas watched her with that familiar, smug expression, his eyes glinting with barely concealed satisfaction as he raised his glass in a toast to the love.

“To love,” he said, his voice rich with irony, his gaze never leaving Emily. The silent threat in his eyes was unmistakable, as if reminding her of the control he held over her. The tension was thick, palpable, every word laced with the knowledge of what they shared—and what she could never admit.

The screen faded to black as the title of the movie appeared, followed by the release date in bold, with the haunting background music underscoring the forbidden nature of their connection. The final note left a lingering tension, promising audiences a twisted, seductive journey of desire, betrayal, and control.

The lights came back up in the studio, and the audience sat in stunned silence before erupting into applause. Beside you, Alan Rickman wore his usual, subtle smirk, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he nodded toward you, clearly pleased with the trailer’s impact.

The host leaned in with a half-dazed smile, clearly affected by what he’d just seen. “Wow,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and surprise as he turned to you. “That was something else. What was it like filming such… powerful scenes?”

You smiled, feeling a renewed excitement as you thought back on what it took to bring Emily’s journey to life. “Well, Emily is caught in this web of conflicting desires and guilt,” you began, glancing at Alan, who nodded subtly in encouragement. “She knows she’s making a mistake with Thomas, that she’s risking everything. But there’s a fire between them that she can’t ignore, this intensity that keeps pulling her back in. Alan brought so much to Thomas—this commanding, almost predatory energy that made her attraction to him feel undeniable. It was like stepping into fire every time we shot those scenes.”

The host grinned, clearly intrigued by the dynamic. “And it seems like that heat is definitely going to carry over to audiences!” He turned to Alan, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Alan, this role is quite a departure for you, right? Intense passion, deep conflict… I imagine it was a challenge. But, if I may say, some people might wonder if it was a bit of a stretch, considering…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Alan’s physique. “You know, the years have added a bit of… experience.”

A flicker of discomfort passed over Alan’s face, his easygoing expression tightening just slightly. You could see he was maintaining his usual calm, probably used to the subtle jabs that occasionally came his way. But this time, it irked you. You clenched your fists, irritation bubbling up as the host continued with a superficial smile. Why was it that everyone focused on Alan’s appearance as if it diminished his talent, as if that baritone voice and those intense hazel eyes didn’t already command a room?

Before Alan could respond with his usual poised deflection, you interjected, your voice laced with a calm but unmistakable edge. “With all due respect,” you said, turning to the host, “I think that question completely misses the point. Alan brought an energy to Thomas that’s raw, magnetic, and honestly, breathtaking. I’m certain audiences are going to be captivated not because of a number on a scale but because of the undeniable charisma he brings to the screen. If anything, I’d bet most people will be going to see this film just to watch him.”

Alan looked over at you, surprise and a hint of gratitude in his eyes, though he quickly covered it with a slight smile, that subtle, self-deprecating charm of his. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly, dipping his head.

The host, momentarily taken aback, tried to recover with a chuckle. “Oh, absolutely, I didn’t mean to suggest anything else. It’s just that… well, Alan’s a bit of a legend, and people have a certain image…”

You didn’t let him finish. “Exactly,” you replied smoothly. “And that image is of someone who captivates, who can seduce with a look or a line. I don’t know about everyone else, but when Alan Rickman steps into a role, I don’t notice anything but his presence. And in this film, he exudes a dangerous, irresistible attraction. That’s what will have audiences glued to their seats.”

Alan’s smirk widened slightly, a glint of approval in his gaze as he relaxed beside you. He glanced at the host, his usual sly humor peeking through. “I think I’ll take that as my cue to leave all future interviews to [Your Name] here. She clearly has a much better perspective on the matter.”

The audience chuckled, and you exchanged a warm look with Alan. There was an unspoken connection between you both, a shared understanding that transcended the superficialities the host had attempted to reduce the discussion to. The conversation quickly shifted to the film’s plot and its themes, but you felt a renewed closeness with Alan. As the host wrapped up the interview, you gave Alan a discreet squeeze on the hand, a gesture of support and admiration.

Backstage, Alan turned to you, his usual smirk softened by a touch of genuine warmth. “Thank you,” he murmured, his baritone voice low. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You met his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Someone had to remind them what really matters. And honestly, I meant every word. When people see you as Thomas… let’s just say, they’re in for quite an experience.”

He chuckled, his hooked nose scrunching as he raised an eyebrow. “You think so, do you?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “And between you and me, I think I’m the lucky one, having been the one to experience it firsthand.”

Alan’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his smile lingering as he took in your words. “Well then,” he murmured, his tone laced with that rich, magnetic allure that left you breathless, “it’s good to know I still have it, isn’t it?”

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #actor

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trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

Text

(Every Step You Take) I'll Be Watching You

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x female!reader (Evie)

Word count: 6.2k

Synopsis: Bob disliked Friday team nights at The Hard Deck but knows they're important to the squad. That is, he disliked them until Penny hires a new summer bartender who gently pushes him to try new things. But when he comes in to find the police asking for her, the last thing he expected was to find himself protecting Evie. Trigger warnings: stalking, attempted assault

Written for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober Playlist challenge.

Prompt: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Master List | Ao3

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The Hard Deck slowly filled with the usual Friday afternoon crowd, the noise level increasing as Bob crushed peanut shells between his fingers. He’d never been one for the bar scene, but team cohesion was necessary, and this was where the Daggers had decided was home. He could put up with a regular night out if it meant better dynamics in the air.

“Who's ready for another round?” Fanboy asked, holding up his empty beer bottle. There was a handful of answers, and Bob quickly stood.

“I’ll get it,” he said, eyes darting to the bar. It was still early enough that it wasn’t swamped with patrons, the perfect time for him to make the run. He’d always had a hard time with crowds. Some of that had been trained out of him by the Navy, but he avoided them when he could. That was one of the things he loved about being up in the air - the knowledge that it was just him and the pilot, that he could focus on his job instead of navigating the world. It was easier to have set parameters and expectations to operate within. Once he climbed the ladder to the cockpit, his entire focus shifted to the mission, executing it to the best possible extent and getting back home.

A spot opened up at the bar as he neared, and Bob made a beeline for it, setting the empty bottles and glasses on the counter. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he glanced at the pretty bartender Penny had hired a few weeks ago. Evie slung a towel over her shoulder and used the back of her wrist to push her purple glasses up as she built a drink in a shaker tin. Her gaze drifted across the patrons, and the corner of her mouth tipped up when her eyes landed on Bob. He felt his lips curving in an answering smile.

“Another round?” Penny asked, stepping in front of him.

“What? Oh,” he said, eyes darting between the two women. Penny gave him a knowing look, her lips thinning as though trying to repress a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Evie? Lieutenant Floyd’s getting another round for his squad. Think you can help him out?”

“Yup, just need a minute,” Evie replied, grabbing the cocktail strainer and a clean glass. Her eyes darted over the beer bottles. “What were the drafts?”

“It was the, uh… IPA?”

“Do you remember which one?” Rose dusted his cheeks, and Evie shook her head. “Don’t worry about it - who was it for?”

“Payback and Hangman.”

“Finch and…?”

“Fitch and Seresin.” She nodded, placing the cocktail before a woman, and quickly entered the sale. Grabbing clean glasses, she pulled the drafts. She retrieved the bottles from the under-counter refrigerator, caps flying as she quickly opened them before returning the bottle opener to her back pocket.

“And what can I get for you, Bob?” she asked, setting the beers down in front of him and clearing away the empties.

“I’m fine with a Coke.” She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you tried a Roy Rogers before?”

“I don’t, I don’t drink.”

“It’s not alcohol - it’s grenadine and Coke. Just a little more flavor.”

“Oh, that… that might be okay.” She smiled softly, grabbing a shot glass and the bottle of grenadine, uprighting it to pour a small measure before filling the rest with soda.

“Try it first.” Her fingers held the glass in the middle, and he carefully lifted it from her hand, making sure not to touch. “Thoughts?”

“It’s not bad,” he replied, setting the glass down. Evie quickly grabbed it and set it on the container with dirty glasses. “I’ll have that, please.”

“You’re not just saying that since I suggested it, are you?” she pressed, filling a glass with ice and setting it in front of him.

“No, ma’am. It’s good.”

“Alright. Happy it’s the weekend?” Bob watched as she poured the red syrup into the glass while using the soda gun, lifting his gaze to see her watching him. He nodded. “Doing anything fun?”

“Not really. You?”

“Working. Studying. The usual.” He watched her pluck two cherries from the garnish tray and drop them into the drink.

“Oh. Well, uh, I hope you have some time to relax.” Evie’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Here’s hoping. Need a hand to get all of this to the crew?”

“Backup has arrived,” Hangman said, appearing at Bob’s elbow. He winked at Evie. “Much obliged, darlin’.”

“Of course.” Her gaze met Bob’s again. “Lemme know if you need anything else tonight.”

“I will. Thank you, Evie.” She nodded, turning her attention to the next patron.

“You’re welcome, Bob.”

Another Friday. Another Hard Deck night.

Bob arrived before the others and sat in his truck. A glance at his watch showed that they should be getting there soon, so he steeled himself to go in first. If he did that, he could make an excuse to leave earlier.

“Hey,” Evie greeted him, a rack of clean glassware in her hands as she backed out of the kitchen. He nodded, eyes darting down to the rack and wondering if it would be strange for him to offer to carry it. She set it on the counter before he could figure it out and ducked under the bar. “What can I get for you?”

“A Roy Rogers, please.” Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she fought a smile.

“Okay. What are your thoughts on trying something else?”

“Like what?”

“A cherry lime Ricky? Lime juice, cherry syrup, and soda water.”

“Sure.” He watched her retrieve a glass and two bottles. “What are you - ”

“So how was - ” She paused. “Sorry, you first.”

“I,” Bob cleared his throat. “I was gonna ask what you’re studying.”

“I’m working on a doctorate in Clinical Psychology. Just finished my first year.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Her gaze flitted up to meet his before focusing on building his drink. “Decided it was time for a change, so, yeah. New city, new career.”

“Where were you before this?”

“DC. I was a legislative policy analyst.” At his raised brows, she shrugged. “It sounds more impressive than it was. And it paid horribly. I bartended on the side, so at least there’s some continuity. Tell me what you think of this,” she said, setting the glass in front of him on a napkin.

“It’s good. Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I ask you a question?” When he nodded, she leaned on the bar and cocked her head. “What’s a wizzo? I heard someone call you that.”

“WSO - Weapon Systems Officer. I fly with Phoenix and handle the comms, datalinks, and targeting systems in our jet, among other things.”

“Sounds complicated.” Bob chuckled, ducking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, it is. I like it, though.”

“That’s important.”

“Is that why you’re doing psychology?”

“Yup. Wish I’d realized that while I was in undergrad instead of doing a whole career shift at 28.”

“That’d be… that sounds like it’s hard.”

“Gotta do the hard things sometimes to get to the long-term goal,” she sighed before looking over his shoulder. “The rest of your crew just got here.” Without warning, a hand came down on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Hey, can I get a Sam Adam’s on draft?” Rooster asked. With a nod, she retrieved a pint glass and flipped it in her hand, sending a sly smile to Bob, who ducked his head. Drinks in hand, the two men went to claim the pool table.

From there, Bob saw Evie tense as a man slid into his vacated stool. Her smile was fixed as she set a napkin in front of him and took his order, going to the far side of the bar to use the soda gun. Penny leaned closer as Evie whispered something, then turned to grab a bottle, eyes darting to the patron. After serving the man his drink, it looked like he was trying to talk to her, but she moved on to the next person. His eyes followed her as she worked the bar, trying to talk every time she neared to grab something, to which she nodded with a fixed smile.

Slowly, so slowly it almost seemed accidental to anyone who wasn’t paying attention, Bob watched as Penny took over the section the man was in as Evie swapped to the other side of the bar. When the man tried to request Evie’s help with a drink, Penny shrugged and crossed her arms, a tense smile on her mouth. Bob’s eyes flit to Evie, who looked like she was trying hard not to pay attention. After a few minutes, the man threw money on the bar, walked towards Evie, and said something before leaving. Penny was quickly at her side, and Evie shook her head. She turned as though feeling eyes on her and met Bob’s gaze. He frowned when she quickly looked away.

When he was ready to go, he made a point to close his tab with her. “Here you go,” she said, placing his card and receipts in front of him with a pen. Though she had other customers, Evie stood before him, retrieving a cloth from her pocket and cleaning her glasses. “What are your thoughts on frozen drinks?” she asked.

“I don’t mind ‘em.” Her smile grew as she nodded.

“I can bust out the blender next Friday and do a Virgin Piña Colada or whipped lemonade. Or a blushing Arnold Palmer if you want something simpler.”

“I’m sure whatever you make’ll be great, but you don’t have to go through the hassle for me.”

“It’s no hassle,” she shrugged, pushing back ingrained bartender dread of using a blender. Shoving the cloth into her pocket, she put her glasses back on and cocked an eyebrow.

“I look forward to it. Have a good night, Evie.”

“See you next week, Bob.” When their fingers accidentally brushed as she reached for the receipt, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his mouth.

The following Friday, Bob tried not to grin whenever he caught sight of the pink cocktail umbrella tucked behind Evie’s ear, matching the one in the Virgin Piña Colada she’d made him.

“He’s back,” Penny whispered as she passed behind Evie to restock the straws.

“Shit.”

“I’ll have Jimmy take care of him.” Evie nodded, keeping her head down as she crouched low to restock the beer case.

“I’m sorry about this, Penny,” Evie whispered and swallowed hard when the older woman squeezed her shoulder. The bar was too busy for this shit to be happening on a Saturday night. One of the ships had just come in, and The Hard Deck was already packed. It should have been an all-hands-on-deck night, and now she was trying to figure out how to avoid one of her sections. A part of her wondered if she should have called out and let Penny schedule one of the other summer bartenders, but the tips tonight would be too good to pass up. With the summer semester over for undergrads and her tutoring students gone for a couple of weeks, the extra cash would ensure she could pay her rent without dipping into her savings. It wasn’t like she was getting paid for the hours spent at the community mental health clinic where she interned.

But that didn’t make it easier to ignore Shaun, eyes boring into her as she circled the bar to get around him. Breaking down the beer boxes, Evie tucked them under her arm and turned to her boss. “Gonna make a trash run.”

“Make it quick,” Penny nodded. “Grab some whiskey and tequila on your way back, please.” With a nod, the younger woman grabbed the trash and ducked under the bar, weaving through the crowd to the back exit. A few of Penny’s aviators glanced up as she pressed her back against the door, and she gave them a tight smile and nod.

Music spilled out of the building, melding with the sound of waves crashing on the shore as she tossed the bags and boxes into the dumpster. She stopped and enjoyed the sight of moonlight bouncing off the ocean and the cool breeze ruffling the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. While she missed the hustle of DC, there was something to say about the laidback California lifestyle. Being removed from the constant job comparison was also lovely. If Evie never dealt with another Capitol Hill bro again, it would be too soon.

Mentally preparing to reenter the fray, she took a deep breath and stepped back inside, beelining towards the bathroom to wash her hands. But as she exited the stock room, juggling four bottles, she froze. “Hey, Eves.”

“Shaun.” The blonde smiled at her, leaning against the wall to block her exit.

“How have you been?”

“Busy. I need to get back to work, so if you’d excuse me.” When she tried to step around him, his hand landed on her hip, finger threading through her belt loop.

“C’mon babe, don’t be like that.”

“Move your hand,” she said through grit teeth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I was very clear when I told you it’s over. I will ask you nicely to leave before you’re kicked out.”

“Too late.” Standing behind Shaun was Penny’s boyfriend, Maverick, backed up by Jimmy. The two men looked annoyed, and anger flared in Mav’s eyes when he saw where Shaun’s hand was. “Now, you can leave through the front door, or I’d be more than happy to get some of my guys to throw you out. Decision’s yours.” Evie blushed, seeing they were drawing the attention of Penny’s aviators, who all frowned in her direction.

“I’ll see you around,” Shaun begrudgingly said, letting his fingers drag along the waist of her shorts. If her hands weren’t full of alcohol, she would have slapped him.

“No, you won’t,” Mav promised, forcefully steering the taller man towards the door. Jimmy followed after patting her shoulder. Evie forced a smile, happy that her coworker had her back, and drew in a deep breath, holding it for four beats and exhaling. Slowly, she forced herself into a quick round of box breathing to ground herself, her eyes closed. It was just like taking a beat between clients, she told herself before stepping back onto the floor and hustling to the bar.

“You alright?” Penny asked.

“Fine.”

“Wonder what that’s about,” Phoenix said, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she and Bob entered The Hard Deck. Penny glanced at them, forcing a tight smile as she spoke to the two police officers across the bar. Bob couldn’t help but look around for Evie. The squad had mentioned that something had happened over the weekend, and he wanted to check on her.

Evie stepped out of the stock room, flexing her hands. Bob wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that the corner of her mouth lifted when their eyes met. “Jimmy and I got the new kegs on, Penny. I’m going to…” she trailed off, catching sight of the officers. “Everything okay?”

“They actually need to talk to you. You can use my office.” Evie’s paled, making her red lipstick more vibrant. Bob felt a surge of protectiveness, and only Phoenix’s pointed look checked his instinct to move closer.

“O-oh, alright. This way.” When their eyes met again, Bob tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Everything alright?” Phoenix asked as Penny moved towards them.

“Did Pete say what time he was going to be here?” she asked instead.

“He shouldn’t be far behind us,” Bob replied, glancing towards the office. With a nod, she started to pull Phoenix’s beer.

“What about you, Bob?” He ordered a soda. While Phoenix went to secure the pool table, he stayed hunched over the bar, the pile of peanut shells growing on the napkin in front of him. When the office door finally opened, and the officers stepped out, he waited for Evie to emerge.

When she did, he felt his heart drop. Her usual composure was gone, eyes wide as they darted around the bar. Her red lips parted, blowing a breath as she swiped at her eyes, smearing her eyeliner and knocking her glasses askew. As she neared, he could see that she was shaking.

“Hey,” she said softly, forcing her voice steady as she stepped behind the bar.

“Are you okay?”

“F-fine,” she replied but jumped when Penny appeared beside her.

“You okay, sweetie?” the older woman asked, taking a few steps away from him. Evie rolled her lips together, tears appearing in her eyes. Her trembling became more pronounced, and when she caught Bob looking at her shaking hands, she balled them into fists.

“I’ll b-be okay.” Penny let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

“Take the night. I’ll call Chelsea to cover and give Pete the officer’s card so he can give a statement, too.”

“I’m so sorry, Penny,” Evie breathed.

“Don’t be. Go home and take care of yourself. We’ll figure this out. But send me a picture of him so I can make sure everyone’s on the lookout. I’ll trespass him if he shows up.” The two women embraced before Evie circled the bar, giving him a weak smile before going to retrieve her purse. Penny’s eyes landed on him, and she sighed. “Would you mind walking her out, Bob?”

“Of course,” he said, quickly pushing to his feet. When Evie returned, she’d swapped her glasses for sunglasses. Penny jerked her head, and Bob scrambled to follow. He quickly got in front of her and held the door open, brows furrowing at the brittle smile she gave him.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll, uh, walk you to your car?” The statement came out as a question, and she shook her head.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” Her breath hitched as her lips thinned, and she gave a curt nod. They didn’t speak as he followed her toward an old, beat-up blue car on the far corner of the parking lot. It apparently didn’t have automatic locks because her hands shook so badly that she scraped the paint twice while trying to fit the key into the lock before dropping the keys.

“Fuck,” she hissed. He was faster than her and plucked them off the ground.

“Evie - ”

“I’m fine.” When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and held out her hand for the keys. He watched as they shook, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll be fine.”

“Can I drive you home? I don’t think… I want to make sure you get there safely.” Her chin wobbled, and Bob’s hand flexed, trying to resist the urge to reach out to touch her.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please.” After a moment, she nodded, and he unlocked the car before circling around it and holding open the passenger’s side for her.

“The air conditioner doesn’t work,” Evie said once he’d adjusted the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Nodding, he rolled down his window as she did the same. “I didn’t have a car in DC and didn’t want to have a big car payment while I’m in grad school.”

“I had a car that smelled like fuel the entire time I was in flight school,” he shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot. “Got it on the lemon lot on base.”

“Lemon lot?”

“Yeah. You can put your car and stuff up for sale there. They’ve got one here if you’re ever looking for a new car.”

“I don’t have base access.”

“I could take you.” She nodded, then gave him directions to her apartment. It was a quiet ride, the silence broken by the radio and wind, and he saw her wiping her eyes occasionally. They drove to one of the older parts of town and pulled into an apartment that was a bit dated from the outside. Evie seemed a bit embarrassed as she got out. “I’ll just order a car,” he said, handing her the keys.

“Do you want to come up while you wait?” she asked.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, taking his phone from his flight suit pocket. He saw a text from Phoenix asking where he’d gone but ignored it in favor of pulling up the rideshare app. “It’ll only be… forty minutes.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“Come on.” He followed her into the building, climbing a staircase to the second floor. “It’s a bit of a mess,” she apologized, pushing open the door to her studio apartment. He quickly removed his boots when she kicked off her sneakers and followed her down the narrow hallway into the main living area. A folding room divider separated her bed from the couch, and books covered the coffee table and a small desk tucked into the corner. The back wall was a large window covered with curtains, and he could see a small patio overlooking the pool. Her eyes were red-rimmed when she turned to face him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please.” She nodded, putting on her glasses before tossing her purse onto the bed and retreating to the small kitchen. Unsure of what to do, he followed, watching as she retrieved two glasses, glancing over at him as she reached into the refrigerator. She looked calmer now that she was in her own home, but he could tell she was anxious. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she sighed, handing him the water, eyes not meeting his own as she pushed her glasses up her nose. He recognized the nervous tick as one of his own.

“Does it have something to do with the guy who makes you uncomfortable at work?” Her wide eyes darted up to meet his, and he shrugged. “Mav asked us to be on the lookout for him, and I noticed that you avoid him.” She took a deep breath before sipping her water, her hands shaking again.

“Yeah. Shaun,” she said after a moment, dropping her gaze to the floor. “We went on a couple of dates, and he didn’t like that I told him I wasn’t interested. I must have mentioned working at the bar once, and he figured that bothering me there would make me give him another shot.”

“Was that why the police talked to you?” The trembling was back, and she quickly set her water on the counter before crossing her arms over her chest.

“H-have you ever heard of the Tarasoff Rule?” Frowning, he shook his head. “It’s a law that all mental health professionals have to follow. We have to warn and protect if we think a client is an active threat to someone. It’s…one of the few reasons we’d break confidentiality. And I guess… and Shaun said something to someone, and I - ” She gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the panicked sob that escaped. Without thinking, he quickly walked towards her and set his glass beside hers, pulling her into his chest. Evie hesitated a moment, pushing her glasses to the top of her head before her arms wrapped around him tightly. He could feel her tears dampening his flight suit, drowning the usual urge to keep physical distance.

“Honey, does he know where you live?” he asked softly, then swallowed hard when she nodded. Careful not to jostle her, he reached into his pocket and canceled the car. There was no way he was leaving her alone.

When her sobs dissolved into hiccups, Evie slowly pulled away, eyes downcast as she tried to clean the eyeliner and mascara from her face. “‘M sorry,” she mumbled, reaching to scrub her thumb on his chest. He saw a smear of red lipstick on the fabric and caught her hand.

“‘S fine. Is there anyone… do you have someone that can stay with you? Or somewhere you can go?” She shook her head, hand quickly shooting up to catch her glasses when they slid from her hair.

“I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.” Bob’s jaw ticked as he looked at the floor, thumb absentmindedly stroking her knuckles.

“Can I stay?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

It was awkward at first, only really knowing one another in the context of the bar. They sat on the couch, the television droning to break the silence. Evie had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt, makeup scrubbed off, and glasses perched on her nose. Bob had tied the top of his flight suit around his waist.

But then he noticed one of the books on her coffee table and chuckled. “Didn’t take you for a Tolkien fan.” Her gaze followed his, seeing the cover of The Silmarillion hidden under one of her textbooks on psychodynamic theory.

“I’m a Tolkien nerd,” she admitted. “I even have an Elvish tattoo.”

“You do?” Rather than answer, she turned her back to him and lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing her black bra band and the delicate script trailing along her spine. “What’s it say?”

“‘Deep roots are not reached by the frost.’ It’s from - ”

“The poem about Aragorn,” Bob finished. Evie dropped her shirt and turned to face him, an eyebrow cocked.

“You like Lord of the Rings?”

“The Hobbit’s my favorite book.” A smile curved her lips, and he felt a surge of pride that he’d put it there.

“So what did you think about them breaking it into three movies?” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. Evie laughed, and he grinned.

The conversation carried them for a while, and after she warmed up some leftover chicken and pasta, they put on the extended version of Lord of the Rings. They discussed how sad it was that Tom Bombadil was left out of the films and how Arwen’s role replaced Glorfindel. When she took their empty plates to the kitchen, Bob was pleasantly surprised when she sat closer to him on the couch.

It was edging close to 10:00PM when the movie ended, and they debated putting on The Two Towers before deciding against it. Instead, Evie put on some music, and they talked. She told him about growing up in Maryland and realizing that she wasn’t happy in a career writing reports and wanted to help people instead. She talked about her work at the community mental health center and how hard but rewarding it was. Bob told her about growing up on the ranch in Montana, spending days in the saddle and nights under the stars. He told her one of his favorite things about being on the carrier was seeing those stars again. Night flights were his favorite because even the glow of the instrument panel wasn’t enough to block them out.

When he stretched his arm across the back of the couch, his fingertips accidentally brushed her shoulder as she faced him. He didn’t want to pull away when she leaned into his touch.

Bob felt himself losing focus as they talked about their families and clenched his jaw to keep from yawning. Evie seemed to catch it, though. “Sorry, I forgot not everyone keeps bartending hours. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, reluctant to have the evening end. He hated why he was getting to spend so much time with her, but Bob wanted to savor every moment together. Phoenix teased him about his crush, and tonight only worsened it. Shaking her head, she stood and stretched, the hem of her shirt rising to reveal a thin strip of skin before falling again.

“I’ll get a pillow and blanket. And I’m sure I have a spare toothbrush somewhere.” He nodded, and they took turns in the bathroom while she spread a sheet over the couch for him and tossed a blanket at the end.

“Will it bother you if I, uh…” he motioned to his flight suit, a blush creeping up his throat.

“Oh, no. That’s, um…” Evie said, a pretty pink dusting her cheeks. Bob nodded and waited for her to turn off the floor lamp and duck behind the room divider before taking off his flight suit and folding it. He didn’t usually sleep in a shirt, but it felt like pushing to only wear his boxer briefs in her home. “Night, Bob.”

“Goodnight,” he called back, putting his glasses on the coffee table. Tucking one arm under his head, he stared at the ceiling until she turned off her bedside lamp. He could see the light of her cell phone for a while before it turned off.

And then she started crying. Soft little gasps that she was clearly trying to muffle in her pillow, just loud enough for him to hear. It broke his heart to lay there and listen to it until her breathing evened, and she drifted off to sleep.

Knocking woke him, and Bob was momentarily confused about where he was. He snatched his glasses from the coffee table as Evie turned on her bedside light. “Bob?” she said, voice rough with sleep and laced with apprehension.

“Stay there,” he ordered, flinging off the blanket and pushing to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder as he entered the hallway. Evie clutched her blanket to her chest, teeth digging into her lower lip.

“Babe, I can see your car out there. I know you’re home,” Shaun said, knocking louder.

“Call the cops,” Bob hissed. She nodded, grabbing her cell phone and quickly dialing 911.

“Evie!”

“You need to leave right now,” Bob shouted as he neared the door. The knocking stopped.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“The police are on their way.” He could hear Evie talking to dispatch. Glancing through the peephole, he saw the man pacing, hands buried in his hair. Bob stepped back when he turned and resumed pounding on the door.

“Who the fuck is in my girlfriend’s apartment?” There was movement behind him, and Bob turned to see Evie standing at the mouth of the hallway, cell phone tucked between her shoulder and ear with a baseball bat in hand.

“Please hurry,” she begged. Her wide eyes met his, and he motioned for her to give him the bat. The hallway wasn’t wide enough for him to get a good swing if Shaun made it through the door, but he could do some damage if necessary. Her voice retreated for a moment, and he heard the slide of a drawer before she was back, a small canister in hand. Bob recognized a can of pepper spray when he saw it and had to fight back the visceral reaction. He’d been sprayed with it during Officer Candidate School, then had to take down and fend off a potential threat.

“Careful with that,” he warned, not wanting to have to re-experience it. Evie nodded, eyes fixed on the door as the pounding continued.

“Evie, open the goddamn door!” Bob held out a hand to keep her from answering. They didn’t want to make Shaun angrier. If she didn’t answer, he might think he got the wrong place and go away.

There was a boom, and the door shuddered.

“Please, please, please tell them to hurry,” Evie pleaded. Bob wanted her behind a locked door, but the bathroom was closer to the entrance.

“Go on the balcony, honey,” he said softly. There wasn’t a lock, but at least she’d be further away. She shook her head, and they heard a second boom. He spun, lifting the bat when he heard the crack of the door frame splintering.

“EVIE!”

“Go!” Bob ordered. There was no way her neighbors weren’t hearing that, and he hoped that they were on the phone with the police as well. A large shard of wood hit the floor at the next hit, and he adjusted his grip.

In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren. Apparently, Shaun did as well because he paused. Creeping towards the door, Bob squinted to look out the peephole and saw the man leaning over the banister. Blue and white lights flooded the area, and he took off. Glancing over his shoulder, he met Evie’s gaze and held out a hand to stop her from coming inside. What felt like an hour later, but was probably just a few minutes, there was another knock.

“Police! Open up.” Leaning the bat against the wall, Bob quickly unlocked the door and let the officer in.

“They’re here,” Evie breathed, stepping inside. “Thank you.” The phone dangled from her hand for a moment before falling to the carpet, and Bob quickly crossed the apartment to tug her into his arms as she started to sob.

It took an hour for the officers to take their statements and to talk to the neighbors. While the doorframe was splintered and the door scuffed and dented, the lock still worked. Bob showed the officers out while Evie sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands, forcing herself to practice deep breathing. She couldn’t stop shaking but had managed to stop repeating, “I don’t know why this happened. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” They’d assured her that Shaun wouldn’t be getting out of jail for the weekend and walked her through getting a restraining order. She was thankful Bob was there because she couldn’t concentrate enough on their words to follow what they said.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching in front of her. “Honey?” He lightly touched her knee to get her attention. Her red-rimmed eyes met his. “Do you want to stay here or go to my place?”

“I’m so sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean for y-you to get involved.”

“Shhh,” he said softly, thumb lightly stroking her leg. “I’m glad I was here.”

“You’ve already done so much,” she rasped, shaking her head. “I can’t… I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“You would have hit him with the bat and then the pepper spray.” That pulled a tired, huffed laugh from her. “Let’s go to my place?”

The streets at 4:30AM were nearly empty, and they both felt the adrenaline crash as they walked into Bob’s condo. Their fingers entwined as he led her through the dark house, unwilling to burst the soft, tired bubble they’d found themself in by turning on a light. Wordlessly, he led her to his bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, dropping her quickly packed bag on his dresser. But Evie held tight when he tried to let go of her hand.

“Stay?” she breathed. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed and… I don’t really want to be alone.” Bob hesitated, watching the streetlights reflecting off her glasses, and nodded. Silently, he stripped off his flight suit and crawled into bed after closing the curtains. Evie lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Her hand slid under the covers to find him again. “Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything tonight. And I’ll completely understand if you never want to see me again after this. But I just wanted to let you know that I a-appreciate it. You.” He was silent for a moment.

“I want to see you again. You’re my favorite part of the week.” He heard her breath hitch and turned to see her looking at him.

“You're mine too.”

Later, he wouldn’t be sure who moved first. But he would remember vividly how soft her lips felt against his that first time, tentative at first and then her muffled gasp as his fingers traced the curve of her jaw. Her breasts pressed against his chest as they moved together, fingers hesitantly slipping under shirts and exploring unseen skin. “Honey,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not tonight. Not like this.”

“Not tonight,” she agreed. Her hand lifted, thumb tracing his lower lip before her gaze rose to meet his. “‘I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging.’”

“And it's very difficult to find anyone,” Bob finished the Tolkien quote, shifting his fingers under her shirt to trace the Elvish script that decorated her spine.

Evie lay awake long after he drifted off, replaying the night and everything that led up to it. She could already tell there were gaps in her memory. When her heart started to race, she forced herself to recite the 14 symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and the differential diagnoses of PTSD, acute stress disorder, and adjustment disorders.

She watched the sky grow lighter through a gap in the curtains. The mattress shifted as Bob moved. Quickly shutting her eyes, she feigned sleep as he curled around her, slotting his thighs behind hers and tossing his arm across her waist. He mumbled something in his sleep.

Her eyes grew heavier as she focused on the steady beat of his heart and his slow, deep breathing.

As she drifted off, Evie had one last conscious thought.

Safe.

----------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Sting said this about the song

"I think it's a nasty little song, really rather evil. It's about jealousy and surveillance and ownership... I think the ambiguity is intrinsic in the song however you treat it because the words are so sadistic. On one level, it's a nice long song with the classic relative minor chords, and underneath there's this distasteful character talking about watching every move.

Tarasoff's Rule came about after a man murdered his ex-girlfriend after disclosing his intent to his therapist. You can read more about the case here. Duty to warn and protect is one of the few reasons a mental health clinician can break confidentiality, and only when there is a plan/intent to act; having thoughts with no plan/intent does not meet the threshold for breaking confidentiality. Confidentiality is taken very seriously in the mental health world.

This story came about due to one of my colleagues was alerted to a patient making homicidal threats against him. When I saw this challenge, I jumped on the song because the connection to the case and the way the song is catchy and sweet but sinister.

Evie's tattoo comes from this poem:

“All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.”

Thank you for reading!

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun rocktober #top gun maverick #Bob Top Gun #tw: stalking #protective! Bob

355 notes · View notes

pahtoosh · 1 year ago

Text

apologies and kisses

[image ID: pictures on a light purple background. there are five different baby blankets, a few different bottles of laundry detergent, and an image of chris evans as steve rogers looking smug and another of sebastian stan looking comedically distraught/.end ID]

masterlist

summer celebration masterlist

18+

wc: ~2200 words

warnings: having to do chores. baby is kind of dramatic in this(but justified!)

a/n: the movies moodboards are back. this is the first post of my summer celebration!!! also my first "and kisses" piece!!! "and kisses" just means there are lots of kisses and this is important because i love kisses :)

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader (Dada = Steve, Baba = Bucky, Daddies = both Steve and Bucky)

summary: Steve leaves you and Bucky alone for a day and your Baba manages to make a mistake worthy of an apology and lots of kisses

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ

“Okay, I’m leaving for my meeting now!” Steve called out. “Just making this announcement in case one of my loves wants to show me some love before I go!”

Your dada would never leave without a proper goodbye unless it was an emergency, but he likes teasing you. You took the bait every time.

“Dada! Dada wait!” You rushed to the door and “caught” Steve just as he was about to open the door.

“Oh goodness! You just barely made it, pumpkin. I was practically out the door!” He set down his briefcase and gave you a hug and kiss. He looked over your shoulder for any sign of Bucky. “Hm. Only one of my loves came to say goodbye. I guess that’s it then. Bye sweetheart, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“No! No! Baba! Baba, come say bye bye to Dada, you have to!”

Bucky shook his head at your and Steve’s antics. He walked leisurely down the hallway before kissing Steve goodbye.

“You sure took your time,” Dada teased.

“I can’t be spoiling you now. Sometimes ya gotta play a lil’ hard to get.” Bucky winked.

Steve laughed and muttered idiot before returning the kiss. “You two gonna be okay without me?”

“Yes, Steve. I’ve got the schedule and the chore chart and the MyPlate chart that you printed out for me. Twice. Relax, I’ve got this. They’re my baby too, you know.”

Your dada sighed. “I know, and I trust you but it’s been a while since we’ve been separated.”

Bucky rubbed his shoulders. “We’re gonna be fine, it’s only for a few hours-”

“Six hours.”

“And those six hours will be fun and productive thanks to the schedule you lovingly created for us. We’ll be okay, you can just focus on your meeting. Unless that’s why you’re acting like a mother hen right now.” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you worrying about us so you don’t have to think about your meeting?”

Steve stood a little straighter and fixed his tie. “Steve Rogers doesn’t run away from his problems. But if he did, that’d be a pretty darn good reason.”

Bucky laughed. “Okay, Captain. Whatever you say, now go kick some ass.”

“Language.” He kissed you one more time. “Bye, sweetheart.” He kissed Bucky. “Be good.”

“Why am I being told to ‘be good’?”

“Because our sweet little angel is always good. You’re the trouble around here.” Steve smiled at you and walked out the door, closing it behind him before your baba could respond.

“Unbelievable. Did you hear that, lovie? Dada’s talking as if he wasn’t the biggest troublemaker his whole life.” He stopped looking at the door to face you. “How ‘bout those chores? Should we get started on them?”

“Don’t wannaaaa,” you whined.

“I know, me neither but we gotta show Dada how responsible I can be. Will you help me with that, baby?”

“Mmm. Okay. But then I don’t have to eat Dada’s veggie sprouts for dinner.”

Your baba threw his head back in laughter. “Trust me, angel. Baba wouldn’t make you eat that mess even if you were the naughtiest baby in the world.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Two hours later, you and Bucky had finished watering the plants, cleaning your playroom, and doing the dishes. The only two chores left on Steve’s list were to dust all the shelves and lamps in the house and do the laundry. Bucky hated dusting, so he was saving that task for last.

He stood a little straighter and used his sergeant voice to grab your attention. “Agent baby, I have a very important task for you.”

You copied his posture. “I’m listenin’, sargan’ baba!”

“I need you to round up all the blankies in the playroom and living room and escort them to the laundry room. And bring any loose socks you see on your way. Those tricky little guys have escaped us for the last time.”

“Yes, sargan’ baba!” You did as he said, gathering the lightweight blankets that collected on the back of the couch and in one of your playroom’s baskets. You carefully walked to the laundry room with your huge pile of blankets nearly blocking your whole face.

“I gots dem, Baba!”

“That’s very impressive, baby! And in record time too,” Bucky praised. He took the blankets from your hands and placed them into the machine. “One, two, three, four, five, si- wait, we’re missing one. Where’s your blankie, lovie?”

You looked up innocently. “Bankie’s not dirty.”

“Now I know that’s not true. I can’t remember the last time we washed blankie.”

“But, but what if bankie don’ like the water?” You pouted and formed a crease between your brows.

“Blankie will be fine, sweetheart. Blankets are meant to be washed! And don’t you want your blankie to be fresh and clean? Think about how you feel after a nice bath. Good, right?”

You looked down and played with the hem of your shirt. “Yah, feels good.”

“Okay, then can you get blankie for me? Or do you want sergeant baba to come with you?”

“No, I do it!” You straightened up and rushed to get your blankie, wanting to show Baba your independence.

You carefully handed blankie to Bucky.

“Thank you, doll. Now blankie’s gonna take a little trip with these other blankies and when they’re done they’re gonna be all clean! While I do this can you look for the feather duster in the closet? I’ll be back out in a minute.”

“Okay, Baba!”

Now alone with the washing machine, Bucky turned the knob to the correct settings and reached for the detergent. There were three different bottles on the shelf. Wait, which brand is used for blankets? How much are you supposed to use? And who needs three different kinds of laundry detergent?

Steve had been taking care of the laundry lately in exchange for Bucky cleaning the kitchen. Steve was also more particular about how fabrics felt after washing, explaining the need for different detergents. Bucky decided to put a little bit of each detergent in the machine and hope for the best. He pressed the start button and left to find you and the feather duster.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Not too long later, every bookshelf and lampshade in the house was dust-free, Bucky put the blankets in the dryer, and you both ate lunch. By the time the dishes were cleaned, the dryer played a happy tune signaling that the blankets were dry.

“Baba! Is blankie time!”

He gasped. “Blankie time? We gotta move fast! Hold on baby, Baba’s gonna get you there!” He lifted you off his lap and carried you to the laundry room, moving up and down while making airplane noises.

“Wooosh! Wooosh! Wow, baby, look at how fast you’re going!”

You squealed and held onto Bucky’s Henley for dear life. “I’m zoomin! I go so high so fast!”

“Aaaand we’ve made it to blankieland!” He put on a voice and pretended to talk into a radio. “Passengers, we have just landed in blankieland. Please stay still while we take out the blankies and give your Babas a kiss for the ride.”

You giggled and kissed Bucky on the cheek before wiggling out of his arms. “Mwah! Down please!”

He set you down and opened the dryer, putting all the blankets into a clean basket so he could take out the dryer lint while you got your blankie. He closed the door and then turned to you.

“So, how’s blankie? All clean and fresh?”

“B-Baba?” Your lip was trembling and your eyes were filling up with tears.

“Oh, baby what’s wrong?” He crouched down to your level.

“My blankie! You ruined blankie!” You dropped blankie and ran to your room crying.

Confused, Bucky picked up your blanket from the floor and a pant of guilt hit him. Blotches of the fabric were discolored. It made your blanket look like someone spilled Steve’s green juice on it. He inspected the other blankets and for some reason, only yours was affected.

Baba felt so bad for ruining something that meant so much to you. He wanted to go comfort you, but sometimes you needed time alone after a conflict.

While giving you some space, Bucky tried to fix his mistake. He thought about all the ways he could get the stains out. He tried a stain-removing pen, but there was no change. He got a small part wet and blotted it with a towel. Again, nothing happened. Surely putting it into the machine again wouldn’t fix things, that's how he got into this mess. And he was hesitant to try vinegar, the idea of your blanket being stained and smelly was too much. With no other solutions left to try, Bucky went to go check on you.

Luckily, you left your door wide open. You were so distracted that you just ran straight toward crying into your pillow and stuffies. Bucky could hear your cries all around the house. He was concerned about how long you’d been crying for. How much time did he spend in that laundry room?

“Baby? Baby, I’m so sorry. Baba’s so sorry he ruined your blankie.” Bucky carefully sat down on your bed and rubbed your back in a soothing gesture. “I’ll buy you a new blankie, yeah? I’ll buy you as many as you want, as big as you want, as colorful as you want.”

He couldn’t be too sure, but he might’ve heard you sob the word “no” three times.

“Angel, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to have a clean blankie. When Dada gets back I’ll have him teach me how to clean blankie the correct way, okay? Maybe he can fix this.” Bucky actually wasn’t sure this was something that could be fixed, but he’d say anything to make you happy. “It was an honest mistake, angel. Can you forgive me?”

“I never forgive you, Baba! Never ever ever ever!” You smashed your face into a pillow and kept sobbing.

Bucky sighed and held his head in his hands. He was hoping for an ounce of Steve’s patience right now. He thought about taking you over to the tower himself. You could see Steve sooner. Maybe some of the other Avengers would still be there and they could help cheer you up. Or maybe he could bribe you with treats, he did just go grocery shopping yesterday...

Luckily, your Dada was just about to park the car. He opened the door expecting to see either you running up to him or you and Bucky sleeping on the couch, exhausted from all the chores. He was not expecting to hear you crying. Steve quickly took off his shoes and found the two of you.

“What’s going on?” It was an odd scene, you lying face down in the middle of the bed, sobbing while Bucky was perched on the edge about to pull his hair out.

You turned over and reached out to Dada, still whimpering. He picked you up and reached for a tissue to clean your face. “What’s got my little sweetheart so worked up, hmm?”

“B-Baba wuined bankie.” You hid your face in Steve’s neck, too tired to do anything else.

Dada looked over to Bucky with a raised brow.

“I was doing the laundry and I messed up blankie.”

“Show me.”

Bucky left to get blankie while Steve sat on your bed with you in his lap. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You whined and nuzzled deeper into Steve’s shoulder.

He sighed and rubbed your back, beginning to talk anyway. “I know how much blankie means to you, baby. I’m sorry Baba ruined it. Did Baba say sorry to you?”

You sniffled. “Ya.”

“And did you forgive him?”

You didn’t answer.

“Babyyy,” he said in a warning tone. Steve did not appreciate unanswered questions.

“No. I say I never forgive him.”

He sucked in a breath. “That’s harsh, now why would you say that?”

“Because blankie!”

“I know, I know. But don’t you think Baba is a little more important than blankie? I bet Baba’s real sorry even without your crying.”

Bucky came into your room with blankie. Steve reached for it and inspected the damage.

“You poured the detergent straight onto it instead of using the slot, didn’t you?”

“How did you know that?”

Steve grimaced. “I made that mistake too. With my own blanket, thankfully. This kind of fabric just soaks it up. And why are the splotches different colors? Which detergent did you use?”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “All of them?” Steve’s eyes widened. “I didn’t use a lot! Just a little of each. Why do we need three different kinds anyway?”

Steve laughed. “It’s okay, Buck. I’ll show you the ropes next time.” He turned to you. “See, baby? It was an accident. Baba was trying so hard to clean blankie that he used three whole different soaps!”

You giggled softly and snuck a peek at your daddies. Steve looked hopeful while Bucky still looked sad and a little embarrassed. You didn’t like seeing Baba so down. You reached out to him.

He looked surprised. “You want me to hold you?” When you nodded, he reached out to pick you up. He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “Again, I’m so sorry baby. Baba didn’t know.”

You held his face with both hands. “Is okay Baba. Sorry for being a meanie.”

He laughed. “You’re no meanie, angel.” He kissed you and then cuddled you, mouthing thank you to Steve over your shoulder.

The next day, your daddies took you on a trip to buy a new blankie and Steve spent an hour showing Bucky how to do the laundry. He even took notes and laminated them to keep in the laundry room.

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #gn!little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #littlespace fics #marvel agere #kisses #and kisses series #apologies and kisses #apologies-and-kisses #toosh writes

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skeedelvee · 4 months ago

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Ayy! I'm finally trying one of these! Thank you everyone that's tagged me in theirs in the past, I always like getting the notifications so I can check out all of your wonderful WIPs! <3

Doing a few WIPs since I've got a bunch going and I've gotten interest in a few.

First up is Second Moon! This is a sequel to my fic First Moon in which Simon is experiencing his first time transforming into a were-dragon. These fics are inspired by @frjsti 's amazing artwork! The sequel is about his 2nd time transforming and how Simon and Baz handle it differently now they know what they're in for and they've had time to prep for and crave certain fantasies for the next full moon. Here's a snippet of them discussing Baz wanting to bottom this time around:

He’s got his academic face on, as if we were talking about the merits of some new magical theory and not him taking my foot long dragon cock up his arse. “Still, there's a lot of risk involved in this. Even if I don’t destroy your arse, there’s still my claws and my fire breath to worry about. It’s a bit dangerous, innit?” “I thought you were the one to always face danger head on.” “I am, but this really isn’t about me.” “Isn’t it? Listen. If you really don’t want to do this, I won’t press for it, but it’s what I want and I’m not afraid of what might happen. I trust you.” I mull it over for a moment before he adds: “And if you do manage to kill me, please make sure my headstone reads ‘Here lies Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. He died doing what he loved: getting railed by Simon Snow’s monster cock.” I snort. “Your father would have my head if I even suggested that.” “Then I’ll have to have it written up in an official will,” he says with a smile. “What will it be then, Snow? Do you want this?” There’s no point lying about it. “Yes. I want it. I want you. You have to promise me though, that you won’t let me hurt you. Don’t muscle through it for my sake. Say your safe word as soon as things turn bad.” “I promise, Simon.”

@stitchy-queerista wanted to hear more about A Good High, so I'll do that one as well!

A Good High is a one shot non-magic college roommate AU where Shepard leaves a pot brownie for Simon on what he thinks is his desk, but is actually Baz's desk. Baz thinks it's a normal brownie from Simon, eats it and gets really high by accident. Simon gets back to the dorm, finds Baz in his current state and has to turn Baz's bad high into a good one. Here's a snippet:

“Have you seen Ratatouille?” I ask as I set up my laptop at the foot of the bed. Baz is hugging his knees to his chest, but he’s lost that panicked look in his eyes. They look sleepy instead, droopy and dark like they are first thing in the morning (it’s very distracting). “I have four younger siblings, of course I’ve seen Ratatouille.” “Right, of course. Well, it always helps me relax, so it might help you,” I say as I make a fluffy pile of pillows to collapse against. “Just try to focus on the movie for a bit and let it melt your anxieties away.” The movie plays and I sit back, kick my feet up, I get immersed in Remi’s story as a start to feel the gummy kick in. I’m so relaxed that I almost forget about how Baz was feeling, but as soon as I do remember, I can’t seem to think of anything else. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He’s watching the film and his breathing seems relaxed, but there’s something about his face that still looks raw, something about his posture that still seems on edge. I wish I could magically make this better for him. If he were anyone else I’d probably know what to do to cheer him up, but we’ve only just (kind of, sort of) started to get along. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly seen him relaxed before now that I think of it, he even looks tense while he sleeps. Maybe I should just ask him about what would help. “Psst, Baz, can I get you anything? Tea? Or a snack?” “No, I’m fine.” “A blanket?” “No.” He curls in on himself more and I mentally start kicking myself. Fuck, I’m making it worse. I wrack my brains for an idea to make this better, ignoring the little voice in my head telling me to leave well enough alone. Maybe if I got him to laugh that might get him out of this funk. “How about a cuddle then?” It was supposed to be a joke, but I can’t manage to laugh at it. My heart is beating out of my chest as the words leave my mouth. It’s a silly notion, the two of us cuddling, and I know it's something he’d never go for. And part of me is still hoping he’ll think it’s funny and he’ll break into a smile as he laughs it off, but the other part of me is desperate for him to say yes.

And @roomwithanopenfire wanted to hear about my untitled Gareth/Rhys fic, so I'll do that one too

This one is fairly new actually. It's kind of inspired by an outfit of mine actually. A lot of people who have met me IRL will probably have seen me in this, but I like to call it my Gareth as a slutty queer woman cosplay; a black crop top, black short shorts, and a brown belt with a white jaguar enamel belt buckle. I was wearing it recently and thinking about Gareth and thinking about a fem Gareth (I call her Gi in this) wielding the magic thrusting belt buckle, and then I started to write this. It's a getting together story about Gareth and Rhys with mutual pining. It starts with the two of them in their room, unpacking and settling into the space for their 8th year. Gi has her skirt tucked into her underpants and it's a whole thing for Rhys. Here's a snippet:

I can feel myself blush down to my toes. Thankfully, Gi discovers the state of her skirt and is distracted from seeing the full state of my complexion. “Has it been tucked in this whole time?” “Pretty much,” I wince. She snorts and then giggles as she unbuttons the thing and kicks it underneath her bed. I try to keep my eyes above her waist. “I hope my grandma saw. It’s what she deserves for insisting I ‘dress like a lady’ in her presence.” She’s stepping into her school trousers now, she has to do a little wiggle jump to get them over her thick thighs (it’s poetry in the making). “She has seen how you cast spells, right? Surely trousers should be the least of her worries.” “I wear the buckle as a bracelet when the old bat’s visiting. Mum says she has ‘a poor constitution’ and I’ll ‘send her to an early grave’ if I try thrusting spells around her.” Gi does a poor imitation of her mother’s voice, playing up the theatrics for my entertainment. I watch her as she lovingly threads her belt through each of the loops on her trousers, it’s like watching a superhero put on their suit for the very first time. She does a turn in front of the mirror, smiles at her reflection, and then shoots finger guns at herself. I can’t help but smile too. I’m so in love with her, it hurts.

And here’s my belt buckle that inspired this:

I think most of you have already posted yours for the day, but I'll tag: @bookish-bogwitch @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @aristocratic-otter @roomwithanopenfire @stitchy-queerista @artsyunderstudy @noblecorgi @monbons @rimeswithpurple @ileadacharmedlife @facewithoutheart

#skeedelvee #wip wednesday #snowbaz #carry on rainbow rowell #femslash

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 8 months ago

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Hello there and congrats on the 450 followers! I'm not sure if you're still doing the roulette requests, but I thought I'd send you a message anyway and ask!

Could I please get 34 & 39 with Tech and f!reader? Platonic preferably. Not sure if that's something I'm allowed to specify. ^^'

@narcissa-of-kaas, thank you so much for the love and the request. I hope I did your request justice. It's very action packed. I was originally aiming to keep the roulette going for three weeks, but I might just keep it going until all the prompts have been used at least once. Thanks for asking love.

Love oo,

Hang On

Warning: Battle scene, rappelling, injuries, concussions, arguing, death, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

The blaster fire was keeping you pinned down, you did your best providing cover. Tech was lying beside you with a broken femur.

“You need to leave”

He ordered over the loud blaster fire and explosions, you covered your body with his, keeping him from being pelted with rocks and pebbles.

“Shut up, Tech.”

You returned fire, holding out for the rest of your crew to get to you. It would be a matter of time before Wrecker and Hunter came to rescue the two of you. Echo and Omega were far enough away from the fight you didn’t have to worry about, they were possibly even safe and with Hunter and Wrecker.

All you had to focus on was keeping Tech safe. Why you all decided to go after the War Chest, was beyond rationality. Okay, yes it made sense, you needed the credits, but then again, did it?

There was another explosion and another shower of dirt, rocks and pebbles. One hit the back of your head, causing you to grunt in pain.

“I’m ordering you to leave.”

“When have we ever followed orders?” You shouted.

Tech could see the fear in her eyes, the way she refused to leave his side. She was loyal to a fault. She always said ‘Friends are family, and you don’t leave family behind.’ He knew she was being stubborn simply because she was afraid. He grabbed her arm.

“I’m not going to die. I’ll provide you, cover.”

“No! Stop it!”

“Listen! It’ll mean your survival!”

"I don't care! I'm not leaving you." You looked at him with determination and resolution. You had your final say and that was all that mattered. Your eyes widened when you saw a grenade land beside you, you picked it up and tossed it back, the explosion rocking against the boulder you were using as cover. You looked from Tech to the increasing number of troopers that were filing through the forest in front of you.

“What if we rappelled?” You asked Tech, he was the resident genius if anyone knew a way to get down safely it would be him.

“It’s possible but the cable won’t be long enough.”

“How far would we get?”

“About 50 feet, only half way.”

“Cover me!” You crawled over to the edge, looking down, there was a ledge half way down. Granted it was very thin, one swing in the wrong direction and it was a long way down. It was risky but possible. You crawled back over to Tech, “Okay … there’s a ledge about half way down.” You ducked as more dirt rained down on you. “You go down first, I’ll cover you and then I’ll follow.”

“No. You should …”

“Stop! What is it? Do you think because I’m a woman, I should go first? Do you think I’m incapable of covering you?”

“It’s because you’re my friend! I don’t want to see my friend die!”

“Well neither do I! So stop arguing and rappel down!” You focused back on the trooper taking down an additional ten, but the more you took down the more that seemed to swarm out of nowhere.

You heard Tech mumbling into the comms, no doubt cursing you under his breath. You understood his panic, after all you panicked when you saw him break his femur. You watched him check his rappelling cable to make sure it was secure. It took him a little bit of time, but he lined himself up and rolled off the cliff’s edge. You gave him a count of 20 seconds before you set up your own rappeler.

Tech laid on the cliff’s ledge, looking up as he moved closer to the cave that was able to provide a little cover at least until Hunter and Wrecker made it to them. His eyes focused on you as you rolled off the ledge and started to rappel down.

You didn’t slow your descent, especially when you felt rocks falling from up above, the troopers still had reached the edge of the ledge. Now wasn’t the time to be cautious. You let gravity help you as the wind rushed past your ears as the ledge came up quickly. You tried to slow your descent as were only a few feet from your destination, however, you miscalculated and landed roughly on the small ledge, knocking your head against the hard ground and inside your helmet. You could tell you were concussed, but you didn’t stop. Your vision was spinning, as you retrieved your rappel cable, and crawled over to where Tech was hiding in the small cave, you scrambled as best you could, slipping and stumbling over to him.

Tech could see you weren’t right. The way you stumbled as you tried to crawl over, he cursed his broken femur. He wished he could get up and pick you up, carrying you to safety. Instead he reached out offering you his hand.

As soon as he felt her hand in his, he yanked her into their hiding place, hoping the troopers up top wouldn’t follow behind them. He gently removed your helmet, and could see you were pretty banged up.

"Breathe... breathe.” He chastised as he saw her eyes looking every but at him, she needed medical attention, and she needed it soon. His vambrace beeped, a signal from Hunter, they were close, he sent a replying ping, “Come on. Stay with me. Look at the stars, kid. Focus on the stars.”

You tried but it was spinning and there was someone ringing a loud bell in your head. You gripped Tech’s bicep.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Hunter’s nearly here. Just hang on.” He held you close, doing his best to protect you, “Come on, you got this. You protected us all this time. You can hang on.”

You squeezed his bicep again, and shut your eyes as a search light flooded your hiding place, you could make out the shape of the Marauder, you felt someone grab you by the collar and drag you onboard, more than likely Wrecker.

Tech let out a breath as Echo rushed over with Omega to look at the two of you, “Her ... Check her first, she had a nasty fall. I think she’s concussed.” It was the only thing all he managed to get out, before he passed out, the anxiety and tension easing out of him, now that you were both safe.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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i-am-baechu · 7 months ago

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Summary: Everything was perfect until it wasn’t. Y/N and Jungkook love each other but when familiar and new faces come into their lives, things get complicated. On top of that, a surprise that truly shakes their plans for the future. Will their relationship push forward or will Jungkook lose his fangirl once and for all?

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Epilogue

→ Genre: Idol au, established relationships, girl group stan au, social media au, K-pop fan page au, romance, angst, comedy, and smut

→ Main pairing: Idol! Jungkook x Fan girl! Reader

→ Side ships: Yoongi x OC & Jin x OC

→ Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, alcohol usage, anxiety disorder, stalking, and obsessive behavior

Author's note: I can’t believe this is the ending of the story! Don’t worry there's going to be an after story with the drabbles and the final book but for now...here's the last chapter!

⇜ Masterlist

“Solo?”

Jungkook turned toward Y/N and nodded his head, “We’re not disbanding, just taking a hiatus and focusing on our solo careers.”

After a long meeting, Jungkook was excited to come home to his fiancée. It was a long meeting discussing the future of everyone. Everyone agreed they wanted to do their own music and Jungkook wanted to focus more on Y/N. It would be the first real break he had with her and his music can wait.

Y/N nodded her head and placed her hand on top of his, “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course I am. I get to spend so much time with my fiancée.”

She smiled shyly at this and gently rubbed his knuckles with her thumb, “fiancée..it still hasn’t set in.”

“Babe, it’s been two months already.”

She shrugged her shoulders and glanced at a sleeping Bam, “I’m really getting married...that’s crazy to say.” She looked back at him with a smile, “I bet Mae is happy about this. Yoongi gets to spend time with-” Just then Bam jumped up on the couch and nuzzled into Y/N.

Jungkook glared and shook his head, “Always trying to steal my girl. It’s not fair.”

“We're engaged, Jungkook.”

“Doesn’t matter. Bam will always find a way.”

Mae turned around in the bed and smiled at Yoongi who was already looking at her. He pushed some hair back and kissed her forehead, “How are you feeling?”

Mae let out a small chuckle and nuzzled into her pillow some more, “I feel like my pussy got ripped in half but other than that good.”

Yoongi let out a laugh and kissed her hairline, “Thank you for giving me everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his chest, “Thank you for making me want kids.”

Just then a small cry echoed from the baby monitor and Mae groaned. Yoongi patted her waist and pushed the covers off, “I’ll get him. Ye-Joon probably just needs his diapers changed.”

Mae nodded her head and smiled at her, “Okay, daddy.”

Yoongi glared at her and shook his head, “Don’t start with that shit.”

“Wait, come here real quick.”

Yoongi thought something was wrong and quickly made his way back to her. She smirked and brought him in for a quick kiss making his eyes go wide. When they pulled away she put her forehead on his, “I love you so much, Min Yoongi.”

“I love you, Mae Rodriguez.”

The cry echoed longer and she let out a small laugh, “Go get our son before he breaks our eardrums.”

“I’ll get our son.” Yoongi walked towards his bedroom but he turned back to Mae and his heart fluttered. He shook his head with a small laugh escaping his lips and he closed the door gently.

Eunbi opened her door and she raised her eyebrow at what she saw, “Namjoon? Why are you here?”

Namjoon sighed and pulled out a card from his jacket, “Jin wanted me to give you this.”

Eunbi tilted her head and nodded her head, “This isn’t going to kill me, right?”

“Why would your boyfriend want to kill you?”

“Right...” She opened the card and a smile appeared, Go to the park! She looked at Namjoon with a curious look, “Do you know about this?”

“I never know what Jin wants to do.”

“You can come in and get a snack if you want.”

Namjoon shook his head and brought his jacket to him, “I’m alright. I’d rather not be here when you guys have sex.”

Eunbi’s face turned red and furrowed her eyebrows, “Yah! Don’t say that so loud. My neighbors are old.”

“Lucky, at least they don’t have to hear anything.”

After kicking Namjoon out, Eunbi took her away to the park next to her apartment. She was dressed in her pajamas which consisted of sweats and one of Jin’s shirts. She pulled her beanie down more when she felt the wind touching her face. She rolled her eyes at herself, she should’ve put a jacket on. She walked further down and she stopped in her tracks to see Jin with a bouquet of roses and balloons. She raised her eyebrow and let out a small laugh, “What’s going on?”

He pulled down his mask and gave her a smile, “Happy three months.”

She looked up at him and felt her heart beating faster, “That’s tomorrow?”

“I know...I couldn’t wait to see you.”

She let out a laugh and walked closer to her as he did the same. She looked up at him as he stared back down with heart eyes, “All this for out three months?”

“Just wait and see our first anniversary.”

“You're already planning that? We just started dating...”

He shrugged his shoulders and bent down placing a quick kiss on her lips. She jumped at the sudden contact but she closed her eyes to kiss back. When they pulled away and he smiled at her, “I have so much planned for us. I told you, I saw my future with you.”

“All those rom-coms couldn’t prepare me for this.”

He let out a laugh and glanced at her apartment, “I’ll cook you something. To celebrate tonight and tomorrow I’ll take you out to this fancy restaurant.”

“You treat me right.”

“Of course my duchess.”

Jungkook closed the door and saw Y/N on her phone on their bed. He smiled at this and took off his shirt, tossing it aside. She glanced up from her phone and smiled, “Is Bam sleeping?”

“Yeah, I was wondering...when was the last time we fucked?”

Y/N straighten her back against the headboard, “I-I...maybe two weeks.”

He glanced at her with a smirk, “That’s a long time. Wanna change that?”

“I think it would be romantic to have one last night in this house before moving.”

Jungkook moved towards her and was hovering over her, “That’s right. We’re moving. Isn’t that exciting?”

She felt goosebumps appear when she felt his fingers against her thigh, “I-It’s very exciting-” She wanted to speak but he kissed her making her forget everything. She ran her hands along his arms and then over his shoulders to steady herself. She played with his locks because they pulled away. Jungkook touched her like she was glass and she couldn’t stop her heart beating, “I love you so much.”

He brushed his lips over her next and her breathing started to get uneven. She felt her body heat up as she enjoyed his kisses. He took any fabric that was covering her body and she couldn’t help but look away from that smile he always has when he sees her like this. He started to trailed his lips down to her neck and then her collarbone as he gazed up. His eyes were a darker shade of brown and she knew what it meant. She knew what his eyes told her, this was her fiancé after all. He continued to leave kisses on her skin until he reached between her thighs. His hot breath against her cold skin sent shivers. He wrapped his arms around her thighs keeping her close to his face, his fiancée was shy, especially with this action.

She held onto his brown strands as she felt her body move against him. Each kiss and lick made her back arch in a way that made the air in the room thicker. She could feel a few strands of sweat coming down as her legs trembled under his touch. His tongue was always enough for her. Moments later, the trembling increased as his tongue rushed in.

He leaned over and kissed, his lips always felt soft and always filled with love. She placed her hand on his cheek and rubbed his cheek gently, “You always make me feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Physically and emotionally. Always make me feel loved, my wife.”

He hugged her body close to his and she was surprised by the action but she understood. After everything they've been through, this moment was more than a declaration of love. It was a declaration of a better future. She let her nails gently scratch his skin and he left kisses against his shoulder. She moaned out his name as he moved in and out of her. It was intimate, so intimate. He placed his temple against her and they made eye contact, “You are so perfect...perfect for me. My Y/N.”

She felt her heart swell up at this and she had to stop herself from crying. This man was her everything and she couldn’t believe that this man was all hers. Forever and ever. She pushed some hair away from his sweaty forehead and gave him a shy smile, “I love you Jeon Jeongguk.”

He smiled and kissed her as she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer. She felt herself tighten and the familiar tremble came over, “Come, love.”

She tilted her head and moaned out his name as she came inside of her. Both eyes met and she could see the love pouring out, “Are you ready for the future?”

“If you're in it, I’m ready for anything.”

Somewhere in Florida....

He glanced down at the news article on his phone and let out a scoff, “She’s getting married to him?”

The woman in front of him nodded her head, “A lot of people support them but there's a small group that doesn’t like it.”

He tossed his phone on the dinner table and glanced out to the waves, “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Every bride needs her father...go visit her.”

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Tag List:

@agustdpeach @mdavt @aloverga @drissteele @xngelsau

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts hosoek #Bts #bts social media au #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #his fan girl

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hes-the-muse · 1 year ago

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'Immaculate Red'

ONE SHOT | IMMACULATE RED

[till masterlist] | [all muses]

Muse: Till Lindemann x f!reader (first person)

Rating: 18+ , smut Words: 5k Author: @thexhostess (Antonia) For @madhatter2727 credit: divider here by @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by @madhatter2727

Notes: A Till oneshot.

I'd love feedback on this from anyone in the Till fic fandom. Curious to see what you think and how many of you are out there.

Charred scent, black powder. Pomegranate seeds shimmering on the table. A feast for a king. Maybe a queen. The pyrotechnics echo with the charred grey dust as the smell of gunpowder is still floating in the air, occlusive and hot. Too hot and I sit to catch my breath. I close my eyes and rest. Then a weighted hand on my shoulder, gloved, black leather. I open my eyes to see slicked back white hair, black smoked liner, singed and melting around his eyes. He’s tall, a distinct presence.

‘Give me your hand’ he says.

It’s a statement not a question. German accent, thick, rolling. Cutting through the smoke, the strobe and fireworks. He’s taking me out of here. I have no choice. It’s him and me and he is possessive. He pulls me through locked steel doors and slim, dimly lit hallways where th heat gathers. Sparks, but not fireworks flash in front of my eyes. He senses my hand going weak in his, my steps slowing and not being able to catch up with him pulling me through the small building. The edges of my vision reduce every second, closing into the centre. Black with a window into the world. And before it closes, I feel his arm behind my knees and he’s lifting me. Up into his arms, whisking me down the halls and out into the biting Autumn air. I float until the black recedes, my vision restoring to full capacity and the air awakens me. I’m still floating, he hasn’t let me go. He hasn't set me down on the ground. I’m not on my feet.

I see the leaves above, dry and orange, browns and reds floating down one by one, sky clear and crisp, a sharp crispness in my airways. It makes me cough. I can focus enough to see that white hair in view, and then his eyes, full of concern and almost angry. Wide eyed but hard somehow.

‘You’re back, don’t worry you're back. You’re with me now.’ He strokes one side of my face with a black leather glove. He stops, leans in to check my face, asks me, ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes I think I am? Where are we? What happened? Who?’ I say.

‘You couldn’t be in there anymore. You were going to pass out, I couldn’t have that. I had to take you out.’ As the depth of his German accent sounds around me again, it feels like an impenetrable blanket, strong and soothing. The words flow as I listen and then I think I realise.

‘But Who? Till?’

‘Hi.’ He confirms quietly. ‘Yes, shhh.’ He strokes my hair with that gloved hand.

‘But Till is in there!’ I point towards the building. Then there is no building, no venue anymore.

‘He’s not in there. He left with you.’ He laughs.

‘Sorry, I don’t know where I am, I took a turn back there, I don’t feel so good. Who are you again? Can you take me back, I think I can go back in now, I’ll sit down. I’ll be fine.’

‘Shh, darling, don’t worry I will look after you.’

All I see are the Autumn leaves on the path, hear the heavy footsteps thumping on the earth and his long heavy coat swaying as he walks, carrying me.

He says, ‘Do you want to go back to see the end of the show?’

‘I do.’ I mumble.

‘Who were you there to see?’ he asks.

‘Rammstein, and they have to be finishing the show now, I might still make it, I could, maybe I could go back and meet them.’

‘Who do you want to meet?’ he asks.

‘Till.’ I say. ‘I might still have the chance, it’s their home show, maybe they will be hanging out after, it might not be too late.’ I protest.

‘Darling. The show was cut short.’

‘How do have know?’

‘Well, um, a pretty girl was ill, and everything had to stop.’ He says.

‘What.. no.’

He smiles through soft determined eyes, holding me tight.

‘I hate to tell you, you stopped it, but I’m serious about this, you had to be taken away from there.’

‘But why? I mean, you took me out, same as crowd surfers, they get taken out and the show goes on, don’t take me too far! The show is still going. The show doesn’t get stopped for one person! Who are you?’ I attempt to make sense of this situation.

He stops. Props me up on his shoulder. ‘Darling look at me. Look at me closely.’ He tells me.

I feel almost well enough to stop asking so many questions.

‘I, took you out of the show. And I, stopped the show myself. The show isn’t going ahead right now, because I left with you. To make sure you are alright. They can’t play the show without me.’ His eyes are very intense and he’s gazing onto my eyes.

‘Till? Till!’ I exclaim.

‘Yes,’ he laughs, ‘I’m Till. Don’t worry darling, you won’t miss the show. So tell me, how much do you think of meeting me? I’d love to know.’ He smiles a side smile.

‘I, I’m sorry.’ I say.

‘Why are you sorry?’ he asks quietly.

‘For sounding like an idiot, telling you all that.’

‘Don’t be, don’t be sorry.’ He whispers, his eyes focusing on mine.

‘Why?’ I ask.

He pauses, ‘Because I needed to make sure you are safe.’

‘Why did YOU help me? How could you leave? It’s not your job to..’

‘Oh it is, it is mine and mine alone. I had responsibility to see that your were alright, personally.’ He adds.

‘ I don’t understand.’

‘You’ve been to our shows before right?’

‘Of course.’

He smiles. ‘I know you have and I needed to be serious about this moment. If there’s ever something wrong, I will help.’

‘What do you mean? But we’ve never met.’ I say.

‘We have now.’ He has a curious longing look, a smile on his face.

He smiles and puts me down. My arms slide away from around the raised wool collar of his winter coat. Once my hazy vision and confusion has gone away, I see him now. Till Lindemann. He reaches out a gloved hand towards me, asking if I want to take it and go with him.

He’s careful, quiet. ‘I think I know who you are.’ He searches my eyes.

‘Well Till Lindemann, I hope you can get to know me.’

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s intently searching mine for something. I don’t know what it is. He’s waiting with his arm outstretched. I take his hand.

Over the crunching of the leaves and tapping on the cold ground, I hear the leather of his gloves creak and he turns to me. His voice, clear and deep, gentle, asks me something. He’s asking my name. I tell him. It rolls off his tongue like he already knew.

‘Are you OK with getting something to drink?’ he says.

‘Yes I could use it. Back at the venue?’

‘Take all the time you need. No, the show is already postponed for another night.’

‘But how?’

‘This rarely happens if ever, and it’s a special night.’ He looks over at me.

‘Look Till, I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me, for helping me, I don’t know what I would have done actually if it wasn’t for you, relied on someone else finding me when I had already fainted. I can’t believe you’ve come out here with me like this, and at the expense of your show. I really, appreciate it, but I’m going to have to go, I can't keep you any longer, I can’t have the show cancelled. Can you go back in there, I’m sure if you give them a good enough excuse, a circumstance, and they would be more than happy if you came back, especially now.’

‘Listen, if you’re not comfortable I can understand, but I’m here now. I’m not going back in there, I mean it.’ And then he looks stern, and leans in. ‘The real excuse is that’, and he leans closer still, and he whispers, and I barely hear him, but in my head he is clear and crisp and resonant, ‘the truth is that I’ve waited for you, and I have found you.’

He draws back and with that watchful gentle gaze smiles and knows that I heard him, but it didn’t seem like he spoke at all.

I follow him through woods where the earth is damper and the leaves are layered and decomposing. The scent of dead leaves and warmth of the leather makes me hold on. He has my hand grasped firmly in his. His grip is strong and I know he wouldn’t let me fall. Old keys rattle and he unlocks the log cabin nestled between woodland. He lights a fire in the traditional German stove. He makes us hot black tea. He pours mine with his gloves still on. I take my first sip, he brings me furs, wraps my knees in them. Sets up a seating area atop the stove where there is space to lie down to sleep. At last I see him take off his gloves. His hands are large, massive. The face of his watch seems gigantic and the wrist strap huge. He turns to me as I’m watching him, mesmerised by his hands. The fire dances off his irises, his hair tousled from carrying me, from climbing through the forest. He smooths it back. The kohl on his waterline arresting, gloomy in some ways. I see him with a kitchen knife, wooden handle well used and blade sharp.

‘This is for fruit.’ He cuts into the skin of a pomegranate, slicing it from crown to base, carving thirds into it. He peels back the red and yellow top layers, gets the pomegranate seeds with the knife, collecting them into a Czech crystal glass for me. Immaculate. Sparkling. The ruby red crimson drops onto the edges, covers the knifes blade, covers his fingers. He licks the remainder and he calls me by my name. I freeze. He hands me the crystal with ruby seeds. Gleaming like shimmering gems with the light of the fire.

‘Thank you..I haven’t eaten this fruit in a long time.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I do.’

We sit in silence. And I notice more about him. His gestures are always gentle. His mannerisms and movements taken with a lot of care. He doesn’t scare me at any point. Even when I saw him with that knife.

‘Are you warm enough?’

‘Yes, it’s very cosy. Is this yours? Your cabin?’

‘Yes it is mine. We, I mean me and the guys sometimes come here to write. Or if I need the privacy. It’s nice to be here. It’s nice for you to be here.’

We stare at the fire. At the embers crackling.

‘Back then, when you said you wanted to get to know me, or, that you think you know who I am, what did have really mean?’

He looks round at me with those solid and contemplative eyes. They look like they want to tell me something he can’t say.

‘I mean that, I think I know you.’

I laugh and try to change the subject.

‘So tell me about your tour, has it been OK, aside from tonight, of course?’ I laugh nervously and clutch the crystal.

‘No really. May I?’ he perches ready to move.

‘Uh huh, yea.’ I say.

He moves closer, almost knee to knee with me. He holds his arms out on his knees, taps his watch face.

‘It’s been a long time since,’ he hesitates and wrings the wrist his watch is settled on.

‘No no, it can’t be a long time, I’m sure, well lots of fans are dying for your time. You know I’m not here for a fling. I don’t do that. I know you helped me tonight, but I can’t.. I can’t be here.’

He looks hurt.

‘I’m sorry I’m not trying to be rude, I don’t want to be, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of me, and I’m sure you are busy, with the guys and the band and you know, considering I ruined your show. I’m grateful, but please I think I better go.’ I look up at him and set there crystal down.

‘Uh, ok at least let me take you back, I took you here, so let me walk you.’ Till offers.

‘Ok.’ I say quietly, embarrassed how that all came across.

‘He puts on my coat.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean you..’ I begin.

‘It’s OK’ he says. ‘I know how it seems, I’m glad you told me you’re not one of them.’

‘Can I?’ he says and takes my elbow to help me keep my balance.

‘What I do want to know is, when I’ve walked you home, will you be back?’ Tilting his head towards me as we walk he awaits my response.

‘Of course I will. I’m always at the shows.’

‘I know you come to shows, but will you come back to me? ’ he smirks.

I look over and don’t say anything. I want to come back to him, but I don’t know if I should. He lets me leave his side and walk to my door, but I still have not replied. He picks up my arms and kisses the back of my hand. His eyes flash a subtle ruby and I can’t leave when he lets go and backs away from my door. Turning and his coat swirling.

‘No, wait!’ I call out.

He stops. Looks at me over his shoulder. He waits. I wait.

‘Till, don’t go. I want to come back to you.’

He turns fully to face me.

I reach for him, ‘I can’t go, ‘I want to stay with you.’

He unfolds his arms from behind his back, opens his arms and I run to him.

He whispers right in my ear, ‘ I know you.’

Light as air in his arms as he effortlessly walks with me through the forest. The air is whipping through my hair and he talks to me in German, and I understand this time. He talks of things as if we experienced them in the past. As if he found me. And back in the cabin he dresses me in silks and wraps me in furs. Attentive and meticulous. I fall asleep and awaken in his arms. He places me to sleep in the warmest place, and the radiating heat of the stove comforts me through the night.

I awake bleary eyed, forgotten what had happened and disoriented with where I am. I see the wooden beamed ceiling of the cabin and the fur all round me. Then I notice him, sleeping on the floor with only a few cushions. I crawl down to him and bring the blankets, covering him, asking if he’d want to go up into the warmth. He doesn’t wake and I shuffle closer to him, face to face and cover both of us in the furs.

I can’t close my eyes. I want to kiss him.

I fight the urge, stop myself. I only move closer, as close as I can get while he’s asleep and he can’t see me. There’s only a small gap between his face and mine and I can easily close it. But again, I don’t.

‘Till.’ I say quietly to test the waters. ‘Till.’ Nothing happens.

Then his eyes snap open, with a hint of ruby. His eyes are piercing and looking deep into my soul. I can’t look away and I can’t do anything else. Only follow his lead as he leans up close, millimeters from my face, then closes the gap kissing my lips, ever so gently. He comes back again and again, when I respond, kissing him back, then he deepens the kiss, pulling me closer to him.

And then a wave overtook me, of visions of him flashing in my mind. The air was thick with white smoke, gunpowder. Bales of dry hay, strong arms embracing me, his mouth on mine, his hips pressing and pushing. Then commotion and shouting, and those strong arms crashing over me, taking me and covering me from the loud noise, so I wouldn’t startle.

‘You can’t be here!’ they shouted. ‘You can’t take her!’

I nestled into his neck, telling him ‘I’m going with you.’ With the pomegranate ruby juice staining my nightdress, I whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he whisks me away high into the forest, the mountains and the castle. I know him, my King. And he’s hungry for me and I for him. And we spend nights in that castle, in a whirlwind of passion and music as he sings to me. And that voice I’ll never forget. That voice.

And when I open my eyes to look at him lying in front of me, his eyes wide and ruby as he's watching me in my almost trance like state. His eyes are searching and waiting.

And I say ‘ You took me away with you and I’m glad, I know you too. I know you.’ And I touch the side of his face.

‘Now you know what I’ve waited for, darling.’ He says.

There are whispers in the dark and they talk about us, and me on his arm, rumouring the ‘latest’. His fur coat over the top and grabbing attention as only he could attract. The visions flash when I touch his shoulder in that coat. The animal skins wrapping around us, they're all over the heavy wooden floorboards, they cushion us and with the fire crackling and the snow falling outside he presses into me with his weight.

When we sit across from each other and he tells me about touring, travel and exhaustion, I remember how he would come back for me on horseback, well built, commanding. He would take me with him, shielded from the cold, running, galloping through the snow, then strip me down in front of a raging fire built by him with his own overwhelmingly large hands. And how I comforted him back then. I remember the snippets, triggered through touch, as I lean up against him drinking his vodka, nestle into his shoulder after a while of sitting together, ignoring questions and looks from passers by in that German town I first saw that Rammstein show. His favourite places to hang out. With every touch of his arm I remember those strong hands, the arms that would lift me up onto horseback, lift me onto his lap in those ancient woodland cabins, the hands that caressed my bare skin and had their way with me. And I finally have the courage to take his hand, and he’s happy. He’s been waiting. He knows I needed the time.

‘I know you’re here with me now. I know you remember.’ He tells me.

My waterline buckles and streams. Those should not be the words to make me cry, but I shake involuntarily. He takes me in for a hug, wipes my tears away with the back of his hand and looks at me with eyes that I’ve seen but never experienced in this lifetime.

‘Never, never, do this, you never have to cry my darling. I found you now. You’re here now.’ He ends his sentence with a gentle whisper, wiping tears, stroking my face. I sob, move his hand, break away. Stand up and walk out from the table. But a large hand pins my wrist onto the wooden tabletop. He won’t let me go.

His eyes turn harder. ‘Darling…’ he’s warning me. Looking down his nose, down the length of the table and at me. ‘Stay with me darling.’ he drawls in his German accent, slow and intoxicated. I wriggle out of his grip, try to, he won’t let me. And then I have to go, to shield my tears from him, I don’t want him to see more of the tears, I don’t want to explain it’s as painful as the day we were torn apart, and now I remember it all. I need solace, even from him. It’s too much to bear. He leaves his mark on me through the ages, and now, as I look down, my wrist is red, his fingers twisting over the skin.

‘Till let me go! For a minute, just for a minute.’

He lets go and I can slip away as he rises from his seat, staring me down, not letting me leave his sight, but I do, I slip round a corner, press myself against a wall in the hall. Red walls, red and purple neon strobe. The music gets louder, the thoughts are drowned out, almost. Almost gone but lingering, on the edge of my vision, on the periphery of my hearing, echoing through my mind. All mixed up. I can’t focus, I can’t breathe, we’re back here again.

But maybe it’s…maybe I need him to break the struggle. If he..If we..

Then I sense it, the footsteps, the determination, it can only be him, drawing closer, crawling over tables to get to me, shoving people out of the way. There’s nowhere else he needs to be but to get to me, to be with me and he will stop at nothing to get there. The heat exhaustion drains me, only until he can…and I know that now, I needed him all this time.

He’s stomping towards me through the strobe and smoke. Eyes fixed on me and nothing else. I helplessly wait. Hopefully. Wait for him to get to me, to move me from this spot. Tunnel vision. I press my palms against the wall behind my back, flat against the red paint. I only watch him as he stalks towards me. He almost doesn’t blink, I never see him blink, fixed and hungry. I hold my breath, my arms pinned with a grip to my waist, squeezing, he leans into me, his hair falling down over his eyes messy from the pursuit of me.

‘Where do you think you're going?’ Audibly breathing, he’s in low tones, quiet. Restrained speech. Surrounding me in his embrace, in his hands, giant hands that wrap me up. His weight against me and the whispering. He presses flush against me and demands I tell him what I’m doing here. What I’m playing at.

‘Everything you need is here.’ He places my hand on his heart flat. ‘Here.’ he looks me dead in the eye, intimidating. And his eyes narrow as he looks down at me. I gulp and blink up at him, he’s looming tall, large, toned, powerful. Then he slowly moves my hand down his chest, down to his lower stomach to the edge of his belt. ‘And here, this is all you need. Do you think so?’ he asks me.

‘You know it is.’ I’m barely audible.

He pushes my hand lower. He’s mad with hormones.

‘I do need you.’ I tell him.

‘What’s that?’ he asks.

My head falls back against the wall ‘ I need you Till.’

‘There you are, there’s a good girl.’

He pulls me towards him, I away from him, he hesitates, looks me over, checks I’m still with him, sympathetic. ‘’I found you that night, finally saw you, don’t get away from me now, don’t change your mind now.’ he says.

‘I won’t, I can’t, I remember everything, I remember you.’ I pull his arms, my own arms outstretched fully, trying to get him to leave with me. ‘Lets go, lets get out of here.’ I tell him.

Built like a tank I can’t move him. But when I give him the eye, he jolts towards me, unable to resist the sultry eyes, the come hither stare. He follows me staggering back down the hallway into the main room, and we try to leave. But he hesitates, hovers around me, stares, pulls at my clothes pawing me. And it’s the same for me when I can’t resist him. I follow his lead as he draws me closer to the table cornering me there, pinning me to the edge, falling over me, closing in. His lips ghosting over my neck and jaw, over my lips and nipping at my bottom lip. He lunges, leans his body weight on mine, pins me to the table top. There’s no stopping. Too late to turn back. Everything is a blur, and tunnel vision doesn’t do it justice. Anyone that is in this room right now is gone to me. All I have is the surface of the table, and Till’s body weight climbing on top of mine. Wanting, hot, frantic. Messy, as he rips the outer layers of my clothes. Harshly pulls at the buttons of my overcoat, peeling back the layers, lifts my skirt, unpins my garter. Hands. Till’s hands pawing at the plush contours of my upper thighs, sliding to his favourite place. Over the gusset of my underwear, palming over the surface of the lace, the heel of his palm, jutting into my clit. Till pushes up pressing until I squirm and brace my back against the tables’ wooden surface.

‘Till.’ I whisper, out of breath already as he pins me further. His eye meet mine, his forehead presses into mine and he pins me fully, my head falling back. He pauses, then with those wide narrow lips, his soft cupids bow pushes onto my lips, softly as his palm moves between my thighs, then hungrily he nips at my bottom lip, teeth scarping, tongue lapping for access. His fingers move to the edge of the lace, and scrunching his hand into a fist he rips the lace clean off my hip, crawling towards the wetness that he’s created. His fingers gliding and circling. There’s nothing else I can think of.

‘Komm zu mir.’ he briefly speaks into my neck.

‘There’s nothing I want more. Nothing.’ I get the words out sighing. I draw him closer with my knees around him.

There’s commotion, voices, calling out but it feels far away, until Till lifts his head and growls, looking around him. He looks feral, distracted. I hear a smashing of glass, scuttling, more commotion and then Till shouts out something in German across the room.

‘Till come back to me, come back’ I whine.

He looks agitated , flustered and angry. ‘Leave us! He yells in English. Stay or leave but get out of my way!’ His eyes are livid as he looks around from above me, then dipping his head back down to me, they soften, then alight with a lust I’m longing to be directed to me. He breathes heavy and strands of hair fall in his eyes as he continues to look down at me. I pet his face, his arm that props himself up above me. I can’t wrap my hand around his entire arm completely, he’s too broad, too powerful.

‘I need you’ I tell him.

His eyes turn a deep red, the colour of pomegranate flesh. He dives, shoving his tongue into my mouth. I plant kisses on his cupids bow, sucking his lip, lingering on the smokiness of him. And then he crawls his fingers inside and it feels overwhelming. He curls and makes my breathing stop. It feels like he’s fucking me. The proportions of his hands to mine are exaggerated. He whispers in my ear.

‘Not the same as when you touch yourself at night, thinking of me is it?’ He laughs, smirks and slides another finger. I moan out load. He undoes his belt. ‘But I’m even bigger than that, darling.’ Red eyes flash, his hand moves away. His cock pushes up to me, slipping against the wetness. I look into his eyes when I can find his gaze. His expression subtly shifts. Admiring the desperation for him in my eyes.

‘I know you darling.’ He swiftly pushes into me, hard, smooth, fast. Not fast enough. I press my hips up to him.

‘More.’ I breathe, flinging my arms about, looking for something to grab onto. He pins them by my wrists to the table. Fucks into me, deeper and slower. Then speeds up and up and up. I feel dizzy, lost in the moment, nothing else exists. I feel the head of his cock, bottoming out. Our breathing is fast paced. He senses I’m holding back. ‘You’re too good not to scream my love.’ He pushes the tempo, further still. He eliminates any type of movement I can do, freeing me to scream my heart out.

‘Till! Till!! TILL! TILL!! TILL!!!’

When the high has worn off, my vision expands out beyond the immediate. I can now sense the tension in the air. The awkward glances. The patrons keeping back. As Till lifts me, hoisting me up over his shoulder, I see the pieces of glass all over the bar floor, a chair’s back chipped with the throw. But no one confronts him. They look away as we pass through the bar and out. And now in the privacy of his cabin, Till lies me down on the warm bricks. He joins me, snuggling down with me for the night. It’s cozy, warm. We listen to the fire crackling gently, giving off a soft orange glow. Till undresses me completely under the fur throws, then undresses himself. So heated in the cabin that we feel completely at comfort. He draws himself close to me, flush with him, holds me to his chest. We have the fur to snuggle into, but I sink into a blissful ambiance, resting on his wide chest. Caressing my face, my hair, my shoulders, my waist, Till talks to me in German. Lovingly he whispers, gently he tells me of how much he’s longed to find me. Of things he’s been looking to recognise in me again. He doesn’t stop stroking and petting. The German words falling from his lips, sweetly sharing the thoughts he wants to get off his chest with me. I listen and press myself into him, one knee between his legs. Then I feel the weight of them on mine, and I nestle my hand below his hips and rest it there, and he lulls me to sleep in German.

#rammstein fanfic #till lindemann fanfic #till lindemann #till lindemann smut #till linderman x reader #writing blog #writing

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astralfortune · 2 months ago

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7. “Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding

Sounds like MC ngl but also me... hate being late so much that they would still show up to the groups practice or events on time after getting into a hit and run or something 😭 we love unhinged and dysfunctional ppl in this household ❤️

Today really isn’t your day. Your alarm didn’t go off so you had to get ready in a rush, resulting in you barely making it to your office on time for a meeting with the director for an upcoming photoshoot. Only to realize that you’ve left your files on your desk causing you to run back to your office to grab them. After that, you had multiple phone calls to make with different departments to keep everyone on track. And just when you thought you had a moment to catch your breath, a fellow staff member pulls you aside to discuss the schedule for next week.

All of this leads to you practically running down the hall to the practice room where you’re sure Fortune is waiting for you. You almost skid to a stop in front of the door and swiftly pull it open. In your haste, you somehow manage to slam the door on your face. More specifically, your nose. You barely register the blood dripping down as you stride to the front of the room.

“I’m going to assume that everyone’s already warmed up.” You start speaking, ignoring the stares the group gives you.

“Wait, hang on-” E tries to interrupt.

“We have a lot to go over today, so let’s start with going over the choreography for your title track.” You press on, looking down at your tablet.

“No, seriously-”

“We’ll start with the count and then slowly speed up. Hopefully we’ll be able to do a full run through by the end of the session.”

“Is that blood?” E looks at their group mates. “That’s totally blood, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is-”

They call out your name bluntly. “You are literally bleeding.”

You groan and finally look up to face the group. “It’s just a nosebleed, nothing serious. It’ll go away soon.” You don’t get why they’re making such a big deal out of this. It’s not like you’re seriously injured or anything.

E shakes their head. “Yeah, no. We’re going to take care of this first,” They approach you and take your hand, dragging you to one of the seats on the side of the practice room. “Sit.”

You do as they say, knowing you’re outnumbered four to one. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to let them win without a fight. X goes to get a first aid kit and E and O take their place sitting on either side of you. The leader pulls out a tissue from a tissue box and kneels in front of you, pressing the tissue against your nose to soak up the blood.

While all this is happening, you don’t hold back on your complaints about them wasting time on you, “I told you, I’m fine. Look, I’ll just go to the bathroom and while I’m gone you all can practice. We only have three hours here.”

You know for a fact that they’re all ignoring you.

X comes back, first aid kit in hand. It’s at this point all the adrenaline has left your body and you can feel your nose start to throb. X joins the rest of you, setting the kit on the floor. “You’ve got blood on your shirt,” They comment idly, handing you an ice pack. You’re not sure where they got it or how they knew to get one but you appreciate it nonetheless. “You should get your nose checked out, just in case.”

“Ever so eloquent, X,” O teases the vice leader with a snicker. “But I have a stain removal stick in my bag, I’ll go get it.” They get up to get the stick as you press the ice pack gently on your nose, soothing the pain slightly.

Now that things have calmed down, the group leader finally speaks up. “I know what you’re thinking. But don’t worry, we can make up for the lost time. What’s more important is taking care of you first. None of us will be able to focus if you’re hurt like this.” You glare at them, their attempt at guilt tripping you working too well. They only smirk at your glare just as O returns, passing the stain removal stick to you and reclaiming their spot. E rests their head on your shoulder, already starting to chatter away about some mundane stories while the rest of the group relaxes in a circle around you.

Yeah, today may not have been your day, but with your group of misfits taking care of you, you feel like it’s gotten a little brighter.

#bridging the gap if #snippets #interactive fiction #if wip #choice of games #choicescript #hosted games #character: fortune #hmmmm #not totally satisfied with this but it was getting too long #mc can pretend to be a holder of a braincell all they want but they will inevitably have their moments #but i do love the idea of an mc being like that this is fine meme

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joshym · 2 years ago

Text

Watch Me

Pairing: Josh x f!reader

Summary: You love getting to support Josh in all of his pursuits, but sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you. And knowing this, he finds the perfect way to use music to offer you comfort in a particularly anxious moment.

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: Josh at Lollapalooza is one of my greatest weaknesses. And him singing this song, at Lollapalooza specifically, is a huge comfort to me. I thought it only fitting to write a one shot in which he offers support to his girlfriend in a moment of anxiety. We all know he would be the most attentive boyfriend to any mental illness, and this story shows how he’d use music (you both love) to do so.

This is my first story to share on here, so I am a little nervous to post. But, I wanted to share just in case this hit home for anyone who struggles with anxiety. I seriously hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, allusions to sex, serious fluffiness.

“Just look at me. Don’t focus on anything else, just watch me. Okay, baby?”

🎶🥀🎶

You had always loved concerts. Live music ignited something in your soul that nothing else came remotely close to achieving. You loved following Josh and the boys around to their shows, seeing them do what they love and watching them succeed. You made it a point to go to as many shows as possible, and Josh loved your support. He fed off of it, always saying he performed at his best just knowing you were in the crowd. He also loved getting to see you right after each show, so full of excitement and adrenaline. You loved seeing him so happy, and you loved that you could be a small part of that joy he exuded.

The boys were gearing up to play the Lollapalooza festival in Chile this week, and you were eager to join and witness what you knew would be one of their best shows. The only issue: there are no seats at festivals, just general admission.

Yes, you loved concerts, always had. But admittedly, you avoided general admission due to your intense anxiety. You’ve struggled with your anxious thoughts for as long as you can remember. It can be quite debilitating at times.

Josh is always so attentive and understanding, constantly making sure you’re okay and not too overwhelmed. He also knows just what to do to calm you down. He knows you so well, and he knows exactly how to reassure you and help you feel safe in any situation.

Josh knew you were nervous. He told you multiple times that you didn’t have to come along this time, but you insisted. You knew he would need you there and you didn’t want to miss this magical moment for him and his brothers.

“I just worry about you, sweetheart. Your soul is too lovely to be plagued with such trouble. Really, it’s okay if you can’t put yourself through it. I’ll know you’re there in spirit, sweet girl.”

“I’m not missing this, babe. I’ll be just fine, I promise. I can’t miss this. I’m so proud of you, and it wouldn’t feel right to not be there just because I get a little overwhelmed.”

“Well, if you insist. Just promise me that if you feel the nerves rising, watch me. Just look at me. Don’t focus on anything else, just watch me. Okay, baby?”

“I do insist, and I will. I promise. And truth be told, I don’t think I’d be able to focus on anything else if I tried. You’re pretty dazzling, especially on the stage.”

“Gee whiz, what did I do to deserve the likes of you, huh? I’m quite lucky to have you, you know.”

🎶🥀🎶

The day has come. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified. There’s a lot of people out there, and soon you’ll be mixed in with the eager crowd. This show wasn’t set up like the others. Usually, you’d be seated on the side of the stage on either Jake or Sam’s side. You were never fond of being backstage, as you loved being able to see them from the audience’s perspective. Each show was never short of breathtaking, and you loved being amongst all the loving and adoring fans in the safety of seated sections.

This time, your only option was a pass that gave you access to the barricade. You’d have the best view of the whole crowd, but the mind-numbing thoughts and fears were becoming a bit too much. You were so much in your head about all the things that could go wrong. There were so many people out there. So. Many. People.

You had helped Josh get ready, helping him situate his mic pack on his red velvet pants. This was by far one of your favorite looks on him and it was a welcome distraction. You’d been so excited to see him wear this outfit on stage, and you’d even dressed yourself as a perfect match to him in your own red velvet cropped vest and mini skirt adorned with jewels and a single white rose on your hip.

After getting his mic pack positioned and attached just right, he turned to you and grabbed you by the waist with a strong and intentional grasp, looking you up and down.

“Gosh, you look magnificent. I won’t be able to keep my eyes off of you.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and you relished in it. It was full of passion and love. You reciprocated, kissing him back with the same fervor. You could’ve stayed in this moment forever. He was so comforting, so reassuring.

The kiss was reluctantly broken by Josh’s warning that it was almost time to hit the stage, and almost time for you to be escorted to your spot in the mix of fans.

“Remember what I said, baby. Just watch me.” He gave you another quick peck on the lips, followed by a wink.

You were taken to your spot, and the nerves were hitting. You felt so confined and restricted. You were counting each second until your beloved graced the stage, eager to lay your eyes on him and feel the instant relief you knew that would bring.

Finally, here they come.

Jake’s guitar roars through the atmosphere, Danny’s drums beat louder than the pounding of your anxious heart, Sammy’s bass reverberating through your being.

And Josh. His voice captivating you. No matter how many times you hear him sing, he never fails to astonish you. You’re always left enchanted.

The familiar chords of The Cold Wind begin, and you feel your body become a bit lighter.

The familiarity and comfort ease the tension, and you keep your eyes locked on Josh. He glances your way every so often, blushing and smiling each time.

The boys were notorious for planning their setlists right before a show, allowing the list come naturally and authentically to them as they prepare to hit the stage.

Because of this, you pretty much never knew what to expect from them, and you absolutely loved that.

The next few songs were electric. This crowd was so full of love for them, and the boys could feel it.

However, your anxiety was beginning to cripple you. You could feel the weight of the crowd, the screaming and yelling becoming louder and louder. You kept your focus on Josh, and it helped. You were nervous, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

Flower Power had just come to its exuberant ending. You were anxiously awaiting the next tune, noticing Josh’s glances had become a bit more frequent. You had a funny feeling that he had something planned, though you had no idea what it could possibly be. You were intrigued, to say the least.

“Watch Me now, Watch Me!”

There it was.

You instantly knew where this was going.

Jake’s guitar began strumming the familiar tune, Sammy’s keys quickly following suit.

“Watch me when you call my name…”

Watch Me. The song Josh sings to you anytime you’re in the midst of your struggles. This song has been your source of comfort for as long as you can remember, something Josh loves about you as it’s one of his favorite songs, too.

“Yes, I’m so glad you came…”

You knew exactly what he was doing. He knew this song would bring you comfort and serenity, and he added it to the setlist just for you.

“Touch me in your own sweet way…”

Your eyes instantly became welled with tears. Tears of pure joy and love.

In this moment, Josh was all you could see, all you could hear. He filled your senses.

Nothing else mattered. He was singing this for you, he was singing this to you. He looked at you continuously to gage your reaction, smiling brightly when he saw the happiness splayed across your face.

“All the time, I love you…”

The crowd reciprocated the song beautifully, clapping to the beat and chiming in on the chorus.

Josh’s stage presence was electrifying.

You couldn’t take your eyes off his, making eye contact with your beloved as he sings so beautifully.

“Say that you’re mine…”

He looks at you again, smiling ear to ear, pointing at you. You’ve suddenly forgotten about any fear you’d had leading up to this moment. It just didn’t seem to matter anymore. You were protected, you were loved, you were happy.

“I’m still falling, but not quite so far…”

The song came to an end in pure Greta Van Fleet fashion: extravagantly.

Josh waved a peace sign to the crowd, making your heart full.

The rest of the set was incredible to say the least. The boys played their hearts out as usual, but you were so ready for it to end so you could see Josh and hold him tighter than ever before.

🎶🥀🎶

You were escorted to their trailers, and you eagerly pushed your way through to him. You grabbed him, and he instantly lifted you up and spun you around with excitement. You kissed him with even more intensity than before, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I take it you liked the set, yeah?”

He’s smirking at you, knowing good and well what your answer is without you needing to say a single word.

“You’re absolutely unreal, Joshua. You’re prodigious, you’re beautiful, you’re—.”

He stops you with a kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Now listen, I’m the rambler in this relationship. Stop while you’re ahead, sweet girl, trust me.”

You both break out in boisterous giggles together, and you watch the way his nose scrunches as he laughs.

“I just love you a lot. Thank you, Josh.”

He pulls you in to a deeper kiss, his hands trailing up and down your body as yours wrap around his neck, playing with his curls that rest in the back.

He moves slightly to lock the door to the trailer.

You break the kiss, looking at him with lustful eyes.

“Wouldn’t want anyone to walk in and ‘watch’ us, right?”

🎶🥀🎶

A/N: I wanted to link the performance for anyone who may want to watch it again. It’s just so beautiful. 😭

Masterlist

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka #sammy kiszka #danny wagner #josh kiszka fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jmk #jtk #sfk #drw #watch me

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