#you requested angst and that brandi

[twcbelts]

@rvyalfamily​   <3′d

       the   sound   of   metallic   chair   colliding   with   wall   just   a   foot   from   him     echoes   through   the   entire   room,   anger   bubbling   to   the   surface  like   a   raging   inferno    that   could   not   be   stifled,   snuffed  out.  they  never   fought,   ever.    but   now?    the   floodgates   were  opened   and   there’s   no    way   to   stop    it.     it’s   one   thing   to   be   jealous,   but   her   husband,   the   man   she  loved   with   every   fier   of   her   being,    had   crossed   a   line,   made   a   scene   at   her   new   place   of   work,   in   front   of   not   only   their   friends,   but   the   audience   that   adored   and   hated    them   both   in   equal    measure.    she   couldn’t   take   it   anymore.   no,   it   wasn’t   a   joke    .    .   .     but   she   couldn’t   fathom   why   it’d   be   anything   else.     “     ya   goddamn   dope!   “    she   yells   at   the   top   of   her   lungs.     “    ...    what?    ya   think   i’m   gonna   sleep    with    everyone    whose   number    i’ve   got    ‘round   here,   huh?    that’s   what   you    believe,   innit?    “     

[fayes-fics]

The Secrets We Keep: Pt II

<< Part I

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you… (part II, see above for link to part I)

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, hand job, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasm. Also a lot of fluff and a few dashes of angst.

Word Count: 8.5k (13.6k for complete fic, including Pt I)

Authors Note: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 linked above. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. Here is the conclusion to this Benepic! Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. Enjoy! 🫶

-vii-

The first thing you feel is throbbing pain, an insistent drum in your head, mouth dry as if you have been chewing cotton wool—the instant regret of excessive drinking floods through you. However, when your eyes reluctantly peel open, your predicament escalates.

You have no earthly idea where you are. Or how you got here. The last thing you remember was Benedict kissing you; then the room was literally spinning from entirely too much brandy. 

Still in the dress you wore yesterday, but tucked under crisp white linens. A trace of a familiar scent upon the pillow that you cannot quite place in your fuzzy state. Gingerly sitting up, you try to get your bearings, not yet awake enough to have any reaction beyond puzzlement. 

The room is darkened, thankfully, save for a sliver of the rising sun that slashes across the bed through a narrow gap in the curtains. You are in a large mahogany four-poster bed; the room is decorated in rich jewel tones—heavy velvet burgundy drapes and dark blue Persian rugs, panelled walls on which stunning artwork hangs. Embers glow in a nearby fireplace as you spy your pelisse hanging on the back of a door and your shoes neatly arranged nearby.

Then you twist and see the bedside cabinet, and your stomach plunges.

There, alongside a glass of water, is your notebook. Your secret notebook. The one that should still be concealed within the hidden pocket of your pelisse. But instead, it is here. And what is worse, it is open. Open to a page with one of your favourite sketches of Benedict: his eyes crinkling against the strong rays of the sun, a carefree smile on his face.

Instantly, you grab it and slam it shut. Fingernails drumming urgently on its silken cover, now hugged into your chest. Horrified that your mystery generous benefactor, who must have seen you to bed, has also been privy to your most private thoughts. 

Galvanised by a need to solve the mystery of who, you relinquish your tight hold on the tome. It is then that a folded letter slips out of its pages and drops into your lap. Tentatively, you unfurl the paper and are aghast by the headed notepaper declaring the author and revealing your host. The worst possible person you could think of.

But then your gaze falls to the elegant script inked onto its thick parchment, and your life is indelibly altered.

Dearest Y/n

I hope you are well-rested. There are so many things I am impatient to impart, but I must begin with an explanation and, indeed, an apology.

You are in my bedroom, at my lodgings. I brought you here as I saw no other option that would guarantee your safety and welfare, which is always my utmost concern.  I made pains to ensure your arrival here was not seen, and I must assure you, in case your recall is uncertain, that nothing has happened between us beyond our kiss. 

Now onto my apology, which is two-fold, although I suspect it should contain multitudes more. Firstly, my most sincere and unreserved apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct at our last two encounters. As wondrous as those kisses were, they were nonetheless inexcusable. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my impulsive actions.

Secondly, I must apologise for my discovery of this, your private diary. My knowledge of its existence is purely accidental; I removed it from your coat merely as a wish for your possessions to be in neat order upon your awakening. My knowledge of its contents, however… for that, I must throw myself at your mercy and beg for your forgiveness. Curiosity and liquor are not the best companions, and it seems both got the better of me. 

In what I hope is partial recompense, I will confess a secret of mine. Arguably selfish in nature and most likely the worst possible timing, too. However, given what I have now seen, I am utterly compelled to convey it….

I love you, y/n.

Most ardently and most truly. 

There is no person in the world I would rather spend time with. Whose thoughts I am always impatient to know and whose every moment I wish to be a part of. For some time now, you have occupied my every thought. 

It is why I felt compelled to act when I heard from Eloise about your impossible situation. I will do anything within my power to assist you. It is why I said that I want to alleviate your burdens. I meant every word and more. My happiness is seemingly inextricably calibrated to yours—when I see you happy, it brings me great joy, and when I see you are not, it brings a pang to my chest I know not what do with. 

I would have taken these feelings to my grave… were it not for this diary. When what I found hidden within ts pages gave me the exquisite burden of hope. Hope that perhaps you return my affections? May indeed have done so for quite some time as well? 

I must also take a moment to compliment your poetic talent, and that is to say nothing of your artistic abilities, which quite frankly are humbling. Dare I dream of a day that we could paint together? Sorry (Again! Multitudes indeed!), I am likely getting far ahead of myself.

I will not be home when you read this. Partial cowardice on my part, no doubt, but born out of utmost respect. You always deserve the right to choose, y/n, and that includes what you do with this confession. I do not wish for you to be obligated to see me or let me know your response, thoroughly eager though I am to hear of it. 

If you wish to speak to me before your wedding ceremony, please leave your hair ribbon tied to my phaeton upon your departure. I will find a way to see you. If you do not, I shall, of course, respect your decision. 

A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo: You will always have my heart; I hope you also choose to be its haven.

Benedict

You could read this confession a thousand times over and still scarcely believe it; the depth of his feelings declared plainly, boldly, and so lyrically in writing. You pour over it once more, giddily aglow, your fingers tracing across his elegant, looped script, your lips moving as you mouth his words, needing to have them within you somehow. Then, you lovingly refold and place the letter between the last two blank pages of your notebook—a more fitting denouement to its contents you could not imagine.

You put on your shoes and pelisse, still floating on a cloud. A valet meets you in the hallway and, with a wordless nod of acknowledgement, leads you out of the rear mews entrance, handing you a large silk scarf to conceal yourself under. With one final glance up at Benedict’s abode, you unfurl the ribbon from your hair and, insides aflutter, tie it in a neat bow onto his phaeton before wrapping the scarf around your head and stealing out onto the streets of Mayfair. 

-viii-

Still in a daze about Benedict’s confession, you slip into the servant's entrance of your family home, tiptoeing through the dormant kitchen and tugging off the scarf. Just as you believe yourself home-free, Mrs White, head cook and ersatz maternal figure, materialises from the pantry, nearly dropping a bag of flour in surprise.

“Lawks alive, sweet child, you gave me a fright!” she exclaims, clutching her chest. “Pray tell, why are you sneaking into my kitchen at the crack of dawn?”

You cringe and turn sheepishly to meet her gaze. “Sorry for the scare, Mrs White. I, um, indulged rather too heavily last night. I was in no fit state to return home. I stayed with a trusted friend.” The truth, albeit behind a veil of obfuscation. “Please do not tell Father!” you add hurriedly.

As she plunks down the flour and smacks her fingers together to rid them of its nascent dust, she chuckles. “I shall not divulge if you do not… for I was already under your father’s employ when I did the same many years ago, the night before I made my Harry an honest man.”

“Deal!” you giggle, clutching your notebook tight to your chest, unable to quash the ebullience fizzing in your being.

“You look as if you caught a rainbow and sold it to the sky,” she declares, crossing her arms and observing you closely. “Wedding day excitement, yes?!” she adds pointedly with a raised eyebrow, even as her tone very much suggests she suspects otherwise. 

“Of course, Mrs White…” you concur, attempting to conceal the quirk of your lip. 

She rolls her eyes and shoos you affectionately towards the hallway. “Away with you! I suspect the less I truly know, the better…”

You say nothing; just give her a nod and race up the servant's stairs, keen to make it to your bedroom unseen. 

As soon as you are safely there, you toe off your shoes and only then relinquish your vice-like grip upon your notebook to hurriedly change into your nightgown as if you had been asleep in the house all night. Enacting a plan you conceived on the brisk walk home, you grab a night bag from your ottoman. Flinging open your wardrobe, patently ignoring the wedding dress hung upon its door, you bundle the notebook with a couple of your favourite outfits and stuff them into the bag. Buckling it shut while you scoot across the room, you open the sash window and  - with a quick check of the garden below - drop the bag into the large rhododendron beneath, hopeful the dense, fragrant blooms will conceal its presence for now.

Just as you are closing the window, a gaggle of ladies descend upon your room, led by your fussing mother, your ladies' maid Rachel among them. Realising she has had to lie to keep your cover since yesterday at the modiste, you silently shoot her a brief look of reassurance.

“Rise and shine, darling!” your mother chimes. “‘Tis your most special day!”

And then everything is a blur as the preparation for your wedding starts in earnest, you still slightly detached from it all, your thoughts purely of Benedict. It is only sometime later that you get a few moments of peace with just Rachel as she puts the finishing touches to your look.

“You seem changed, my lady…” Rachel opines sotto voce, sliding a pin into your hair.

You say nothing, even as your eyes meet in the vanity table mirror, unwilling to confess details of what has transpired just yet. Unsure yourself even what it could mean until you get the chance to see Benedict yourself, your stomach in knots to do so.

“I told your family you took dinner alone last night in your room after returning from the modiste, and then you went to sleep…” she whispers, leaning in even though you are alone.

“Thank you. I am truly grateful,” you offer sincerely before adding: “I will tell you more when I am able. I do beg one more favour of you…?”

She makes eye contact again in your reflection, giving a brief tentative nod after a pause.

“If you should hear from a Bridgerton valet, please follow any directions he provides,” you implore, the image of your hair ribbon fluttering gently in the breeze emblazoned in your mind.

“A valet? Not a ladies’ maid?” she checks softly, frowning.

“Yes, just please… do as he asks?”

“Yes, my lady,” she demures before reaching for your jewellery.

It is only as the carriage you and your mother ride in shudders over the cobblestones towards St George’s church an hour or so later that reality comes crashing in. 

So engrossed in thoughts of seeing Benedict all morning, you had almost forgotten the dreadful fate that likely awaits you. A sudden spike of fear that he will not turn up, that something will prevent him from seeing you, or, heaven forfend, today’s stiff breeze has blown your hair ribbon asunder. 

All at once, your head is spinning, your dress feels too tight, and there is a plunging dread in the pit of your stomach, your skin prickling hard before your vision seems to swim with dots before narrowing to blackness…

“Y/n!? Whatever is the matter?!” your mother’s alarmed voice rings out as you woozily return.

You are slumped sideways against the glass window, its cool surface a balm on your suddenly fevered temple.

“Is it what I told you about your wedding night…?!” she frets, her laced glove tickling your forehead as she appears to be checking your temperature. “I can assure you, you will get used to it…”

You bat her away and slowly sit upright, taking a calming breath while also trying to blot out the memory of her talk about marital relations right before you left the house. Not able to confess it as unnecessary without raising suspicion, you had to endure a stumbling, unhelpful explanation of things you already know. Indeed, you have witnessed at Granville’s parties, even if you have not taken part yourself. 

But then the sudden thought of being required to do such with Lord Farringdon has you grasping the curtain, your empty stomach heaving at the mere prospect. The silent hope that Benedict can assist you at the eleventh hour is the only thing that stops you from passing out anew.

With a shaky gait and a queasy, oily feeling, you alight a few moments later, your mother lending an arm of support as your father and brothers pile out of the other carriage. This is to be the entirety of your wedding guest list. You have pulled into a side courtyard of the church, concealed behind high walls, away from the inquisitive sights of the Ton. The rushed nature of the union and Whistledown’s latest means your family has no wish for this to be a public event, keen to be rid of scandal. Only your immediate family, your husband-to-be and the vicar - a friend of your father’s - know of today’s ceremony. Well, and Benedict. You did not even get the chance to inform Eloise of this expedited schedule.

As he leads you up the stairs and into the side vestibule, your father informs you that Lord Farringdon is already awaiting you at that altar and that he will appreciate a swift ceremony. You swallow thickly and nod mutely, sensing the window of opportunity creaking closed with alarming alacrity, each incessant tick of the church clock seeming like both forever and not enough time, scrabbling for any chance to stall.

Just as you are about to lose all sense of hope, you see movement over your father's shoulder that has your heart leaping into your throat. There, through a mullioned window, you see the distorted outline of a phaeton swiftly pulling up on the other side of the church from where you entered, a palpable wave of relief and excitement washing over you. 

Benedict has come!

-ix-

“Father, may I please have a moment alone?” you rush out breathlessly, pulse-pounding hard in your ears. Hoping he will interpret your request as mere nervousness about the imminent ceremony, you add: “Before I must take this big step and become a wife?”

He reluctantly grants your wishes, brusquely telling you it should be brief before following the rest of your family through the doors into the nave. 

As soon as the coast is clear, you are darting out the entrance again and running around the outside of the church, wedding dress swishing around your legs, until you skid to a halt next to a pillar that conceals you from the street.

There, before you, arrestingly beautiful and jumping athletically down to the pavement, is Benedict—a vision in a blue velvet jacket and teal cravat. 

Your eyes meet, and your knees want to buckle; such is the magnitude of the moment. He bounds up the granite steps and crushes his lips to yours briefly.

“No time to talk,” he rushes out. “If you wish to escape, take my hand, for we must depart now!”

Your heart hammers as you do the only thing you could ever want to: grab tightly onto his proffered hand as his face breaks out into the most arresting smile. Then it's a blur as he whisks you down the steps to his phaeton, hoisting you up onto its leather bench and throwing a blanket into your lap, then clambering in himself. With a shake of the reins, you lurch and take off down an alleyway at a rapid pace. The velocity of motion, red bricks of buildings whizzing by mere feet away, has you momentarily stunned and so you almost jump out of your skin when he speaks loudly over the rushing noise.

“Cover yourself before we get to the street,” Benedict advises quick-fire, only taking his attention off the road briefly to nod to the blanket. Just as you are struggling to conceal yourself, the horses careen onto Park Lane, attracting attention for the speed you are already travelling.

“Benedict!” you chastise, your arm shooting out to grab the side of the partial umbrella-like hood that arches over you, having to cling on for dear life. “This is not exactly a stealthy escape!”

“I know,” he grimaces, not looking at you, “but we must make haste and be as far away as we can as soon as possible.”

“Regardless of destination, we will need to stop at my house!” you almost have to yell to be heard over the jostling wheels on either side of you.

“Why??” His whole face screwed up in disbelief.

“I must gather some things! I will not leave without them, Benedict!!” you warn.

“What could possibly be worth stopping for?” he decries, the whole vehicle swaying violently as he rounds another bend.

“Perchance, other clothing?!” you wither loudly, frowning that he had not considered such, before adding: “And your letter!?” 

His head whips around to look at you and there is an intensity in his gaze that has your heart stuttering. An all-consuming want to kiss his lips as his gaze falls to your mouth. Only the urgent yelp of a pedestrian you narrowly avoid colliding into rips your attention away from each other. 

He rights the phaeton, tugging the reins so the horses slow.

“Alright,” he concedes, quieter, calmer. “But please do be as quick as you are able…”

You don't get the chance to inform him you have already packed and stowed a bag because he is pulling up in the quiet mews behind your family home. You jump down and take off, sprinting through the small gate and across the lawn. Soon, you are diving into the large bushes on the side of the house beneath your bedroom window. Fumbling around, you have to wrestle your dress from a branch before you reach the wall. Emitting a muted noise of victory as you are finally able to grab your bag and out of the foliage without looking.

“Miss y/l/n!?”

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Mrs White standing at a nearby door, wielding a rolling pin.

“Mrs White, please,” you beseech, “please, do not tell anyone!” 

She takes stock of you: your animated state, your wedding dress torn over your knee where it snagged upon that branch, a night bag grasped in your ringless left hand… and she appears to make a calculated decision.

“I fear I could not, my child,” she offers with a shrug, “I do not see anyone for me to tell of…” 

The small, sympathetic nod and smile toying her lips has you barreling towards her, throwing your free arm tight around her as flour dust puffs onto the silk of your dress. You utter your thanks, flooded with gratitude, hugging her close before disentangling, you take off sprinting before she can say anymore.

-x-

As you depart from your family home, a companionable silence settles between you—a tacit understanding that there is much to discuss, but the journey is not the ideal place to do so. Both resolute to put some miles between yourselves and your family, likely now emerging from the church and wondering where on earth you are. A flare of guilt in your belly for not informing Rachel or even your mother. You resolve to send word tomorrow that you are safe without providing details.

As the edges of London give way to the countryside, you do decide to ask one simple question. 

“Where are we headed, Benedict?”

“I have a suggested destination….” he begins enigmatically, an odd cadence to his voice, “but we will discuss that later, once we stop for the night at an inn.”

There is a little flutter behind your ribs at the thought, but it is forgotten as a strong gust of wind whistles over the carriage, making you shiver and burrow into the blanket, wishing you had grabbed your pelisse from the night bag before setting off.

You startle as Benedict pulls you snugly into his side, adjusting the carriage hood and then the blanket, too, so he provides partial shelter from the winds as they whip across the fields. 

“I am sorry I do not have an enclosed carriage for you to journey in comfort,” he winces, his speech humming into you. “But it is best we use this speedier option anyway. We will cover more ground swiftly travelling light.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the blanket, at least; it is very considerate,” you respond, not unpleased to have an excuse to cuddle into him as you reassure him: “I am well now.”

Indeed, the warmth of his flank on yours and the steady rocking motion of the carriage is soporific, the whirlwind of the day hitting you even though it is merely lunchtime.

“Please rest if you need to,” he intuits, “I will wake you if needed.”

And despite the elements, you find the lure of sleep inevitable.

A warm wetness on your brow stirs you.

“Y/n…”

You wish you could always be roused like this; your name a soft rumble from Benedict’s lips as they trace gently over your forehead. You nuzzle unthinkingly into the sound and feel, which has him chuckling into your skin.

“We are here, at the inn….” he murmurs, his breath hot into your hairline.

You blink awake. “We are?!’” You twist to see you are stopped alongside an elegant Tudor wood building. “How long have I been asleep?!”

“All afternoon,” he admits, a touch sheepish. “You looked so peaceful and I assume you must need the rest after a tumultuous few days.”

His touching manner has a warmth spreading behind your ribs that makes you push up and land a kiss on his jaw.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away but pleased to see a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tis nothing,” he demures before changing the topic. “I am sure you are hungry and in need of refreshments. So we shall dine and remain here for the night. We have covered a considerable distance from London already—around forty miles.” He jumps down and stands expectantly holding out a hand for you to follow suit as he continues speaking. “To avoid attention, we should present ourselves as family relations—cousins, perhaps?” 

“I am in a wedding dress,” you remind as you wrestle your way out of the blanket and reach for him to descend.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he scans down your form, lingering slightly.

“Oh yes. Well. Umm. Perchance as husband and wife then?” he flusters as you step down with his assistance.

“Would that not draw the attention you mentioned we should avoid?” you murmur, your hands still joined even though you are on the ground now.

“Do you have another suggestion?” he queries, his breath warm on your face as you stand entirely too close, fingers flexing around yours.

“Unless you wish me to remove my dress out here…” you goad, a little crest of victory as his pupils rapidly dilate and he huffs a breath, “...then I do not.”

“We have much to discuss,” he almost growls, which stokes something low in your belly as he tugs you along towards the entrance, only stopping to nod briefly to the inn’s groomsman who emerges to take care of your horses.

-xi-

The tavern at the inn is a warm, convivial space, wood-panelled, the smell of delicious foods wafting in the air alongside the tannin of wine and the ferrous tang of dark beer as crowds of people of all walks of life gather. Benedict sees you into a corner booth away from other patrons as he orders food, then goes to secure your accommodation for the night.

As he returns, passing you a glass of wine, there is a nervous churning in your gut; this is the first opportunity you have had to talk properly since you awoke to his life-changing letter.

“I have no idea where to begin,” he confesses, looking perplexed, and it makes you reach out in reassurance over the table, pulse strong in his raised veins under your fingertips.

“Your letter was the single most wondrous thing I have ever received,” you offer honestly, his eyes softening, making your heart flutter. “Benedict,” you take a steadying breath before ploughing on with the truth you have never spoken aloud before, “I have loved you for as long as I can remember…”

His face lights up, and his hand turns under yours, your palms touching as he laces your fingers together in a tight knot, then brings your joined fists to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. 

“Why did you never tell me?” He entreats softly.

“Why did you never tell me?” You return lightning quick, a quirk on your lips that has him chuckling.

“An entirely fair accusation,” he concedes, shuffling closer and grabbing your other hand, your heads so close together now. “I suppose I thought my feelings irrelevant, futile even, that you would secure a titled husband. Though why your father chose such a vile one confounds me, I must confess.”

“I believe that a chastisement,” you commence but are interrupted by food arriving at your table. 

So, as you eat, you explain the whole story between mouthfuls. That you were able to delay your debut last season in your father’s absence, but it meant this season, he was determined to see you matched swiftly. Recounting fondly your time spent with your Aunt Eliza, Benedict appearing impressed as you reel off all the skills you now possess. You also talk in detail about how her encouragement meant you fell into the London art scene and how you know Henry Granville. Benedict listens intently, taking bites of his dinner, but his attention never wavers from you as you recount everything. 

“So yes, I believe the match was about my father’s wish to quash a perceived rebellion more than a match society might deem appropriate for the firstborn daughter of a Viscount.” 

“An untitled second son, even less so,” Benedict muses softly, downcasting his eyes, a flare of insecurity that has you putting down your cutlery and grabbing his jaw.

“Benedict, please do not,” you petition, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “You know me. You know that I have never cared what society might think! If I were to marry, I would only ever want it to be a love match. I would not give a damn if my husband were a penniless beggar as long as he loves and respects me.” 

You pause as he raises his soulful gaze to yours, your faces so close.

“Luckily for me, the man who stole my heart fifteen years ago is neither penniless nor a beggar. He is a wonderful, caring, handsome, passionate artist who I would indeed be lucky to paint next to,” you conclude with reference to a line in his letter, a scene you can picture so clearly it seems more premonition than a dream.

“Fifteen years?” he repeats, a look of utter wonderment as he turns his lips aside to kiss your palm where you still cup his face. You nod, a little nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as he adds: “Then I must confess… I have never been more grateful for my incessant curiosity; it led me to your diary and thus to this very moment.”

He takes your hands from his jaw, then kisses both of your knuckles again in turn, but this time, he lingers, his lips warm, damp and pursed open, and a trace of his tongue dabs your protruding bone. A shiver runs down your spine, stoking something acute, dangerous and exhilarating.

“Do you know I have kept that notebook hidden since I was fourteen? Sewing a secret pocket into all of my coats or hiding it under floorboards so it would never be found. For six years. Yet it took you less than one evening…” 

“Maybe it was waiting to reveal itself to the one person who needed to see it the most…” he muses between kisses, his breath gusting hot over your fingers. 

That seismic but simple poetic sentence devastates your ability or wish to talk anymore—a thronging need for him that you are powerless to resist any longer.

“Take me to our room, Benedict,” you command, voice tremulant with want and hope. 

His head shoots up, his face a captivating tapestry of barely bridled passion and astonishment.

“But I-I booked us separate rooms,” he stumbles, confounded, and that gentlemanly act just makes you want him all the more.

Uncaring that you are sitting in a wedding dress in a public tavern, you pitch forward and capture his lips in a kiss that instantly becomes passionate and demanding, your hand running into his hair and tugging him closer.

“You should return the key and request your money back, for that will not be necessary…” you decree, breathing the words into his mouth.

That seems to light a fire in him. He shoves back the table and sweeps you into his arms bridal style, striding out of the room purposefully, his mouth hot on yours, your pounding heartbeat almost drowning out the bawdy, raucous cheers from the drunken patrons you pass.

-xii-

Once the room door clicks closed behind you, his demeanour softens. He gently removes your shoes before setting your stockinged feet down on a plush rug in front of a roaring fire. He tugs his jacket off so he stands before you in a colourful waistcoat and ruffled shirt.

“Are you certain?” His ask is chivalrous, tinged with such delicate hope it makes you melt.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” you declare candidly, boldly stepping towards him.

His hands encircle your waist as yours slide up his biceps, the warmth of his skin through the crisp white fabric making your blood run warm. 

“I may be chaste, but I know of what we are to do; I have been at Granville’s, remember. I also know that I want this. So very much.”

“I am the luckiest man…” he asserts in a low rumble, your honesty seeming to ignite him again as he crowds into you.

It’s an electrifying kiss that has your scalp tingling: his hands moulded to you, mapping your every curve as you take from each other as you never have before, desperation bubbling over with each parry of tongues. His fingers land on the buttons of your dress, between your shoulder blades, silently asking permission.

“Rip it off me,” you urge impulsively, chest heaving within your stays. “I want you to destroy this very dress and everything it represents….”

His responding growl inflames your core, molten liquid heat as his large hands grab the material and tear it asunder from your body so you stand before him, trembling with desire in just your stays and chemise.

He guides your fingers to his waistcoat, the crackle of the fire and the huff of his breaths the only sound in the room. His chest rises and falls steadily as you work on each button. When you reach the last one, he shucks the garment from his torso, then crosses his arms and discards his shirt in one swift motion, sailing away in a puffed arch. The broad expanse of smooth chest before you has you tongue-tied. A lean musculature and pale complexion reminiscent of Italian renaissance sculpture… but living, breathing and looking at you as if you are the most precious thing on earth. 

Long arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his warmth, fingers spidering up the notches of your spine through the thin cotton of your chemise until they reach your stays and pluck upon the laces there. He unties them slowly as his lips trail hotly down your throat. You have observed forms of intimacy but didn't expect the firsthand experience to be so rich, so all-consuming. The sights, the sensations, the scents. Like the tangy undernotes lurking beneath his woody cologne, an aroma that is all him, his bare skin. It makes your mouth water and lean into him; a want to be a part of him almost—so much heat and touch.

As your loosened stays drop to the floor behind you, a clawing need for his flesh on yours has you rapidly discarding your chemise over your head, naked now save your stockings. But before he has the chance to see, you propel yourself into him again, his solid chest colliding with your breasts, your peaked nipples trapped against his warmth. A loud groan from his lips that you swallow as you push up onto tiptoes and wrap your arms around his strong neck, kissing him ferociously. His grip slides down to grasp your bottom, pulling you into him, something rigid pressing your stomach through the refined wool of his trousers. 

“Let me look at you,” he pleads, withdrawing a half step, his eyes sweeping covetously down your body as you feel aglow in the heat of the adjacent fire. “You are so beautiful,” he attests shakily, an insistent throbbing between your legs that is all of his making, so close without any stimulation.

“Touch me, Benedict.” 

It’s equal parts order and request, grabbing his wrist and guiding it low over your belly. His elegant fingertips curl through the patch of hair before swiping between your legs, dilated pupils boring into yours as you emit a wanton moan, knees almost buckling. A strong arm wraps around you to keep you steady as he observes you up close, repeating the motion, parting your folds this time, you honeying upon his fingertips as he glances over your swollen clit. 

You whimper his name, and he claims your lips again, sliding the pad of his fingers over that spot over and over. Fingernails digging into his arm at his expert touch, the air swirling with the wet sound and scent of your arousal.

“You smell so utterly divine,” he groans, pitching forward and almost biting your bottom lip in a toothful, desperate meeting, your moans echoing over his tongue. “I need to taste you,” he stutters.

You have to shoot out an arm to grasp the mantlepiece as he suddenly drops to his knees before you and buries his face into your mound, inhaling deeply, his nose pressed onto your clitoral hood. He is so primal in his desperation as he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, diving into your folds, his tongue a wet, hot spear over your swollen nub. Your other hand burrows into his thick head of hair, scratching along his scalp as he hums his approval into your damp heat, the vibration causing sparks of pleasure to fan out.

It takes what little shred of concentration you have left to stay upright, clinging to the fireplace and him, rocketing skyward so dizzyingly fast, slack-jawed, breathless, rooted in your body as you gawk down at him. You had no idea this would be so intense, so carnal. His stare is fixated upwards on you, reading your reactions like a book, his glazed jaw moving with expert precision buried between your legs—an intoxicating sight that burns into your retinas.

“I need you to come for me, y/n,” he begs hotly into your soaked flesh, his tongue a muscular swipe greater than his fingers, his fingers plucking the ribbons holding your stockings loose so they slide down to your feet.

“I want to do so with you…” you gasp, unable to prevent whatever forms in your mouth from slipping out, leaking profusely onto his chin.

“You will; I promise,” his gravelly assurance, the permission you need to let go, riding his tongue with abandon, your body undulating, chasing that ephemeral high you have only experienced from your own touch before. But this is so much more, so wholly other, magnitudes indeed, the words from his letter never far from your thoughts even as you spiral somewhere close to bliss. His gaze locked onto you, able to read all your signs: skin flushed, ragged pants, shuddering with each quest of his tongue.

And then he gently bites your clit, and you are gone, his hands needing to clamp onto your hips to hold you upright as your body convulses. You cry out, sagging onto him as your body races with a high that fizzes in every cell, radiating in waves of pleasure that have you calling out, uncaring who may hear, incapable of anything but clinging to his hair for dear life and scrunching your toes into the thick wool rug underfoot.

You know you utter a curse, entirely overpowered by the euphoria coursing through you as he stands back up and pulls you into his arms, kissing your cheek chastely, the scent of you strong on his face. But as you come back to yourself, renewed passion stokes in you, determination to give as good as you have been given, a drive for mutual pleasure that has you shoving him backwards forcefully.

He falls back onto the bed, a look of total surprise claiming his face as you crowd over him, laying prone, attacking his trouser buttons with a vigour that has him stunned, his mouth agape. But he doesn't move to stop you, far from it. There is a flash in his eye as you grab his hands and cage them onto the sheets briefly before returning to attack his clothing. Wordlessly, he lifts his pelvis when you tap his hipbone, and then you are tugging his trousers down and off, flinging them across the room.

You are momentarily taken aback when you look down and realise he is without underwear, now as naked as you. His cock, nestled in a small patch of hair, is larger than you have seen before, tinged dark pink and leaking from the tip. It looks so good you bite your lip, a twinge deep inside that is pure want. 

His moan is beautiful as you take him in hand. He is hot and steely in your grip as you move your hand up and down, learning his contours, fascinated by the contrast of how silky his skin is.

“I am so glad you have seen things you should not have,” he groans, squirming delightfully, so very responsive to your touch. It makes you greedy always to have him like this, yearning for you as much as you do him, stuttering your name as you change your grip and move a little faster.

“Please stop…” he grits out, his hand covering yours and slowing your motions, but you can tell it is utterly reluctant. “I am too close, my love…”

That reflexive term of endearment makes something melt behind your ribs, and you crawl up over him as you release his cock, claiming his lips in a kiss, his hands encircling your waist, pulling you down so that his cock is trapped under your pubic bone.

“I love you,” you breathe quietly over his lips, holding his face, wanting to convey the depth of feelings you have for this man.

“I love you too, y/n,” he replies earnestly, his eyes glassy, a cloud of emotion claiming his expression as his hands cup your jaw as well, a profound moment of heartfelt sincerity amid this tableau of fevered physicality.

“May I?” 

Your ask is hesitant as you rearrange, sliding your legs up either side of his hips, signalling your wish to ride him, a need to be the one to give your virginity to him more than him to take it. Something achingly significant in the ability to choose.

He nods a reassuring and spellbound look, and a beguiling hitch in his throat as his tip brushes your entrance.

“It may hurt a little, my love,” he advises, wincing as if wishing that was not the case for you.

“I know,” you murmur back, grabbing his hands to aid you in sitting up so you have more range of motion. 

And then, with a steadying breath, you lower yourself onto him, mouth falling open at the invasive stretch with barely a fraction of him inside you. His face is a kaleidoscope of everything you hope for him—joy and bliss. Your fingers grasp tight around his knuckles, your joined hands a knotted fist, as you feel a pinch of pain that makes you suck air through your teeth, knowing this is the moment you become a woman. So glad it is with him, the categorical love of your life.

Luckily, the ache is fleeting, and you sink lower, him moaning your name lyrically, you puffing a breath at the complete fullness. A pressure holding you open that is so galvanic you now understand the hedonism of what you have previously witnessed—the drive to satisfy an urge that is innate and potent.  

“Oh my god, Benedict,” you stutter, as finally he is fully seated within your body, clinging to him, held open in the most arresting way.

“I know, my love, I know…” he soothes, untangling your hands to touch your skin, running his palms reverentially down your body. “You are amazing, a wonder…” 

“Guide me…?”

He smiles and whispers gentle instructions for you to push up with your thighs and then sink back down, his hands now clamped around your waist to assist you. The sensation is indescribable, the drag of his cock against your walls as you slowly ascend and descend, trying to catalogue every second as a precious memory.

Your speed increases as you get used to the physicality of movement, a cloying, dewy heat spreading over both your bodies as you move in unison. He starts to tilt his hips off the bed to assist in your strokes, pushing to a new depth that catches your breath and has you muttering a curse, your hands scrabbling his abdomen, enjoying the flex of muscles there. His grip moves to your breasts, teasing your nipples in a way that has you gasping and riding harder. His fingers snagging on your sensitive buds is a beeline zipping to your engorged clit, that mashes into his body with every downward stroke you take. Still on a high from your last orgasm, it won't take much more for you to come again; this time, you hope in tandem.

His movements become more urgent, his noises louder, his touch firmer, squeezing you, bucking up with force now, making you moan with each new plunge onto him, as if he craves to leave an imprint of himself inside you.

“Are you close, my love?” you query, borrowing his term of endearment. It has his screwed-shut eyes flying open, his hands flexing on your hips, and a ripple up his rigid cock you can actually feel.

“Yesssss,” he hisses back, “please call me that again,” he entreats through clenched teeth, a prominent vein in his neck pulsing hard as his whole being seems to tense.

“My love,” you coo, treating it like a gift to bestow, addicted already to the effect it has on him, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that will leave marks you will be proud to wear.

You move faster now, the sturdy bed squeaking in protest, the sound of your damp skin slapping together, taking even yourself by surprise at how visceral this is, especially for a first time. Expecting it to be less somehow and enraptured that instead, it is better, burning brighter than anything you have ever fantasised of—skin and sweat, muscle and bone, heart and body in rhapsody. 

One of his hands squirrels between your legs, fingertips hooking against your clit, and within seconds, you are breaking. Your vision whiting out as you slam onto him, your pussy clenching in waves, his cock almost too much as you float somewhere that is both within you and a thousand miles above. Dimly, you sense his nails scrape your flesh as he calls out your name, loudly, debauched, wrecked, a strong pulse through his length as he shudders then goes entirely still, a warmth blooming deep inside your channel that is his seed, something about it so very primaeval. 

You slump inelegantly onto his chest, huffing breaths, altered fundamentally by this magical experience. His touch is soothing, encouraging to lay upon him as he softens within you, eventually slipping out as you lay nuzzled together, exchanging soft words of sated joy—a sudden tide of fatigue lapping your edges. Fuzzily, you feel Benedict chuckle under you and, with hushed, tender words, rearrange your pliant body, rolling you onto your side and curling protectively around you, a warming presence that has sleep seizing you almost immediately.

Awakening the following morning in Benedict’s arms is sublime, his stubbled lips grazing your neck as he rolls you under his warm weight. Just as your body stirs under his sensual kisses, he stops and sighs, dropping his forehead onto your clavicle.

“I wish to spend a lifetime right here, entwined naked with you, my love, but alas, I must desist,” he laments softly. “We need to get moving…”

“You never did say your planned destination,” you point out, running your fingers into his lush hair as he tilts his handsome face up to meet your gaze.

“Did I not?” He lilts, feigning ignorance. “I blame you entirely; your beauty is far too distracting..” Flattery falling from his lips reflexively. “Well, anyway, we must make haste if we are to reach Scotland by Friday as I have planned.”

“Scotland?” you echo breathlessly. “That is so far! Why there?”

“Gretna Green, my love,” his eyes sparkling as he hovers over you, entwining the fingers of your left hands together, his thumb brushing your ring finger. “I hope you are amenable to my proposal...”

And your heart veritably explodes.

-xiii-

The journey is long but worth it. Your wedding, five days later, over the border in Scotland, is everything you could hope for—a beautiful, romantic, private moment for just the two of you, promising your lives to each other in secret. Something thrillingly illicit about its location, too, the place to which all forbidden lovers escape. You do not wear a wedding dress, just a simple light blue chiffon one you had thrown into your night bag, always a favourite since Benedict once complimented you in it. He wears a cravat in the same colour. Exchanging matching wedding bands engraved inside with the same phrase Benedict signed off his love confession with: A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo (Here is my heart, guard it well).

You are happily ensconced in his idyllic Wiltshire cottage by the time family reactions to your elopement reach you almost two weeks later. The Bridgertons are supportive if a little shocked; the dowager Viscountess is always enamoured with a dramatic love story. Your family is less so, but they cannot deny a match with a Bridgerton is no bad thing, even if it was fleeting gossip fodder. You hear from your mother that Lord Farringdon did not demand compensation for your abscondment from the altar. Apparently, you were not the first to do so. Rumour has it that the odious man is negotiating a marriage deal with the Cowpers for their wayward daughter. It may be the first time you have felt a pang of sympathy for Cressida. 

Mostly, you are grateful that the more scandalous truth surrounding your union - Benedict stealing you away on your wedding day - never becomes public knowledge. Every couple must keep some secrets from the world, no? 

Although, a couple of weeks later, on a leisurely Sunday morning, you discover your marriage can no longer be considered as such.

“Darling, you might want to see this…” Benedict drawls casually, wandering into the bathroom as you luxuriate in warm water. 

He drops the latest issue of Lady Whistledown onto a nearby stool as he tugs off his shirt, apparently planning to join you in your bath. Your mouth falls open in shock as you grab the pamphlet. But it is not from his naked form as his trousers hit the floor; it's from what you read:

Lastly, this author may have to eat her hat. News has reached me that Mr Benedict Bridgerton had indeed done the almost unthinkable and married the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. They exchanged vows in a quiet ceremony far from the prying eyes of the Ton and will now settle in Wiltshire, I hear. 

“How did she find out?” you ponder aloud as he slides into the tub behind you. Surely Whistledown must be close to the Bridgertons to discover as such?

“I have not a clue. But perhaps I should send her some honey from our hives to make her headwear more digestible?” he jests, interrupting your reading by pulling you backwards into his arms. 

“Mr Bridgerton!” you chastise playfully, holding the paper aloft to save it from the sloshing he creates as he surrounds you, laughing carefree, so much delightfully naked skin around yours.

“Are you done reading Mrs Bridgerton?” His tone changes to a husky murmur in your ear, his fingers trailing distractingly upwards over your ribs under the water.

“You just brought this to me, husband,” you riposte pointedly, but your argument dies off into a wanton noise as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples expertly. You abandon any attempt to focus on the page, tossing the paper aside and twisting to capture his lips with yours.

Upon the floor, as water splashes onto the wood nearby, the last few sentences you missed glow in a shaft of sunlight:

Congratulations on the latest Bridgerton love match, and I wish them a lifetime of happiness. As I am certain, do all of you. 

What secrets will I unearth next, dear readers? Even I do not yet know. But I look forward to it. Don’t you?

Yours sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

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[viviennevermillion]

*slides into your inbox because HSR requests are open*

Hey Vi! I was wondering if I could request some heacanons for Sampo, Blade, and your boy Luocha with a reader who likes to play with/run their hands through the boys hair? They all have such pretty hair and I want to play with it!

Anyway take your time of course, and I hope you're doing well! Please remember to take care of yourself!

playing with their hair

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: ryker, yayyy, thank you for sending in a request! you made me think about sampo and realize that he's the funniest fucking character in the entire game and so much fun to write for. i had a blast with his banner too, the song fits him so well 💀🩵

btw requests are open and if you guys would like to read more of my works, check my masterlist!

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: carried me with you — brandi carlile

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: sampo, blade, luocha

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: very slight angst in blade's (i'm so sorry, i'm trying, i promise)

Sampo loves when you play with his hair. He'd be 100% down for you trying ridiculous hairstyles on him but on a good day he'll put a pillow in your lap and puts his hands behind his head, sinking into the soft fabric. He closes his eyes when your fingertips start carding through his blue strands of hair. "This is the good life", he sighs and winks at you, "now all you'd need to do would be feeding me grapes like they do in the movies and things would be perfect." "Wait until I throw you off the couch", you shoot him a warning glare. "Hey, hey, I jest", he puts his hands up defensively and laughs.

"You know I'm lucky to have you", he takes your free hand into his and presses a kiss to your knuckles, "this is like we're straight out of a romantic piece of literature, don't you think?" You raised an eyebrow at him: "You're not exactly what I'd consider a romance novel protagonist."

He sighs. "True. I'm more like, the court jester who fell in love with the pretty royal heir", he reaches up to cup your cheek, caressing it gently with his fingertips. "And I love you for it", you laugh as he sits up to press a kiss to your lips. You bury your fingers in his hair whilst kissing back.

You take a deep breath and drift off into your own thoughts now that Sampo was quiet for a moment. A rare occurence, really.

As you enjoy this moment with your beloved, you think back to the chaos that was all over Belobog recently. "Hey, what do you think our friends from the Astral Express are doing now?", you wonder and Sampo sinks back into your lap again, resting his cheek against your stomach. "Maybe fighting a giant, strong lady with the help of a dragon, but what do I know?", he shrugs with a satisfied smile on his face. "Isn't it usually the other way around?", you raise an eyebrow. "It is, isn't it?", he puts a finger to his chin and chuckles.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. "You always have such an overactive imagination. You should write a book." "As much as I'd slay as an author, I'm just doomed by the narrative like the rest of us, darling."

Blade enjoys when you run your fingers through his hair. It's a sensation that momentarily distracts him from everything else that is going on in that busy, but tired mind of his; so it's well-appreciated.

He will not let you mess up his hair under any circumstance. Kafka calling him "Bladie", a terrible habit that rubbed off on you, was bad enough. He didn't need her and Silver Wolf to tease him about having a ponytail on top of his head with several braids going off from it, tied together with colorful hair ties.

Thankfully, you were sane enough not to attempt that.

But he does let you do a few nice hairstyles that look good on him; like a simple, long braid. He doesn't care for what he looks like after all these years of being alive but you seemed to find joy in it and it made his daily life easier sometimes to have his hair put together in a braid.

Sometimes when you sit behind him and braid his hair, you press a few teasing kisses to his neck. Unfortunately for his usually so serious demeanor, Blade is the most ticklish person you have ever met, so that's one of the only things that gets a laugh out of him; even if he didn't feel it emotionally. You brush a strand of his hair back, relishing in the sound he made so rarely; a slight tinge of sadness in your heart and a thought you didn't dare voice.

I wish I could see you laugh more... I'd do anything to make you happy.

He also lets you brush his hair every morning if you want to. His hair is so soft, as you have told him many times. He always wonders how something so simple could bring you so much joy; but he's glad that it does.

Luocha always takes good care of his hair; after all a professional appearance was important for a merchant. His hair is very soft and silky and you have a great time brushing and braiding it.

He teaches you how to do his signature hairstyle. It's quite difficult to do on his own so he appreciates that you're happy to help. This pretty much became a routine for the two of you in the morning.

Sometimes he'd try to get up at night to go to the bathroom and find you accidentally laying on his hair. He hisses an "ouch" under his breath, sometimes waking you up in the process. Once he's back in your arms, you massage his scalp and carefully run your fingers through his blond strands to make up for the painful accident.

In the morning, you tend to sit behind him and do his hair, often littering his neck and shoulders in the process. "Is this just an excuse for you to give me kisses?", he chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose you caught me", you sigh with a smile on your face and Luocha turns his head to pull you into a deep kiss that catches you off guard. You quickly melt into the gesture, closing your eyes and noting how pleasant the taste of his lips is. You presume he applies lip balm in the morning before you do his hair but you never actually saw him do it.

When he gets home after a long day, depending on what hairstyle you did for him, his scalp hurts sometimes when you undo his braid so he loves to rest his head in your lap and have you ease brush your fingers through his hair.

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi

What about a fic where the reader and Pedro are working to together and one of them has an accident while doing a stunt

And that they were dating in secret and they go into panic mode when it happens

Bunch of fluff and angst

Accidents Happen - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: you insisted on doing your own stunts for the Kingsman movie, you get badly hurt.

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warning: doing stunts, weapons, knives, whips, head injury, mentions of blood.

Note: they’ll be on the set of “kingsman” cause I feel like agent whiskey does a lot of stunts lol (let’s pretend Pedro can use the lasso ;) Also love this idea thanks for requesting!!

Secretly dating Pedro Pascal wasn’t something that was easy to hide, he was the heartthrob of the internet and he was a very open book. His people pleasing tendencies had him opening up to everyone just to make them comfortable in his presence. It was fairly new, you’d only been together for just over 12 months, your first anniversary was spent at home over dinner and wine; watching your favourite movies, most of them being Disney or Nick Cage movies, cause let’s face it, he was a phenomenal actor.

Being an actor and working with your secret boyfriend was even harder. You were having to put up two acts, one in being your character Agent Brandy, working alongside other well known actors as a team of secret agents, playing the good guys, you’d read your script and to your surprise, Pedro’s character “Jack Whiskey” kills your character after she finds out that Jack was going to destroy the cure, there were a few stunts that production had warned and offered you may need a stunt double for. But you refused; you had done some stunts in other movies before, you knew you could handle a whip and lasso.

You and Pedro were in position, both in costume and in a room full of camera men and producers ready to watch you play the scene out, the scene in which had all the stunts.

“3,2,1, ACTION.”

You stare at Agent Whisky, brows furrowed and huffing, your hand lingering above your knife ready to fight after you learned of jacks betrayal. “How could you, Jack? Lives are at stake here, the world is at stake. It’s not too late for you to redeem yourself, just hand me the cure and we can work this out.”

He scoffs, accent heavy in his mock fury, “over my dead body, Brandy,” you grunt, “so be it.” Your hand is quick to reach for your knife, pressing the button as to extend the blade. He moves swiftly, quicker than you could react, the lasso in his hands within seconds, spinning it and catching your arms around your torso, the rope pulling tight making you drop the prop, pulling your legs together and you fall onto the mat on the floor. He leans over you, “should’ve minded your damn business, we could’ve been somethin special sugar.” He winks before picking up your knife and jams it into the floor next to you, you’re gasping and heaving as he walks out of the building.

“Cut! That was incredible, I want to reshoot the lasso scene, perhaps we can get Brandy tied up a little quicker, just to get more action into the scene.”

You’re untied from the lasso, Pedro offers you a hand in his costume, smile on his lips as you stand, wishing the warmth of his hands didn’t have to leave yours. You stand about 8 feet from him, in your defensive position, hand above knife ready for the scene to begin.

“Ready in, 3, 2, 1, ACTION.”

“How could you do this to us Jack, the world is at stake, millions of lives are at stake here.” You lower your hand away from the knife, going a little off script to make a more emotional scene, “please, just give me the vile and you can come back from this, we can get away from all of this agent nonsense.” You hold your hand out to him, a soft look in your eyes as you waited for him to surrender the cure that would save millions of lives. He scoffs, pulling his lasso out of his back pocket quickly, emotion quickly turned resentful, he swung the lasso quickly and your arms were bound by your torso. “Please jack, don’t do this.” He pulls the lasso tighter, encouraging you to shut up. “It’s a real shame you didn’t join me sugar, could’ve changed the world, you an me.” With a swift yank of his arm you fell, your body spinning off course from the mat you were meant to land on and your head hits the corner of a chair seat.

“Fuck!” You wail in agony, unable to hold the sore spot on your head.

“CUT. Get medical in here now, we’ve got a head injury.”

You feel lightheaded, your own cries of anguish are drowned out by the dozens of voices crowding you, unwrapping the lasso from your torso. Pedro kneels over you, his hands on either side of your face, his eyes full of tears with a fearful look on his face. “Fuck what have I done.” He brushes his hands over your head to get the hair out of your face, when he feels-something. He pulls his hand back to see it’s coated in slick warm blood, your blood. “She’s bleeding, her heads bleeding!” Pedro exclaims desperately, a man from the film crew tosses him a shirt, Pedro holds it to your head and sees how fast the white shirt is staining red. He can’t stop the tears from falling at how unresponsive you are.

“Move out of the way the paramedics are here!” Your producer exclaims. Pedro is hesitating to move, his body frozen in shock at what he’s done to you. The paramedics put a neck brace on you before picking you up onto the stretcher and wheeling you out to the ambulance.

“Pedro, for all our sakes and your own, go with her.”

He doesn’t waste another second following you, explaining to the paramedics, “she’s my fiancé.” He lies, they’re not, but he’s thinking he should after this, after this feeling of dread that he’s going to lose you, he’s never been so afraid in his life.

The wailing of the ambulance siren is drowned out by him being stuck in his head, guilt and self blame for changing the way he was meant to do the stunt on the script. How would you ever forgive him? He held your hand as it rests on your chest, the monitor connected to your finger reads a low, but steady heartbeat and low blood pressure.

He refused to leave the hospital, he sat on an old dinky green chair, the stuffing had started to fall out because the stitching was ripped. No matter how badly his joints ached he refused to move, the nurses bringing him water every so often as he’s dehydrating himself from having cried for hours on end. You were in surgery, they said that your head has actually split open, they weren’t sure how long it would take to operate or how long it would take for you to wake up, but he was feeling the guilt full force.

A doctor comes up to the nurse at reception and she gives Pedro a look. “Okay, thank you. I’ll pass it on.” She thanks the doctor quietly before standing from her desk and walking over to Pedro. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” He nods solemnly and stands, his legs wobbling from sitting for so long. His boots squeak on the hospital floors, he gets weird looks from other patients and nurses they pass as he’s still in costume.

“She’s stable, she had to have 50 stitches, she’ll be okay eventually but, it’s possible she may have short term memory loss, she may not-we just thought you should be aware of that possibility.”

Pedro frowns, “memory loss?” The nurse nods sympathetically, “it’s possible.” They come to a stop after what feels like an eternity. He stops outside of a room, the letters 31B on the door in bold letters. The nurse opens the door and Pedro’s heart stops beating in his chest when he sees you.

You’re connected to a few monitors, a drip is inserted into your arm. Your eyes are sunken and your skin is pale. Black half circles are dark underneath your eyes, you look so fragile, so unwell. “She lost a lot of blood. She’s due for another blood transfusion within the next two hours. You may take a seat if you’d like, I’ll bring you something from the canteen.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, sitting down in the leather chair that was slightly more comfortable than the one in the waiting room. His eyes feel heavy as they droop, exhaustion overcoming him from todays events.

Your head throbs as you come into consciousness. Your eyes blink hard in an attempt to open them. When they open your eyes are squinted, the bright lights pulling a groan from you, wishing the lights were turned off. You look around the room, head still attached to the pillow as your head feels to heavy to lift.

You see Pedro sitting in the chair next to the bed, his face is red and puffy, he has huge bags under his eyes and your heart physically aches while you’re remembering what happened to you. The monitor beside you beeps loudly and constantly, your heart rate becoming abnormally high for its usual base rate. The beeping wakes Pedro up, he shuffles in his sleep before prying his eyes open, looking at you starting right at him which startled him.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse, vulnerable. “Hi.” You whisper, your throat in desperate need of water to rid your cotton mouth.

The nurse comes walking in, seeing your heart rate, “it’s totally normal waking up from surgery, so don’t panic. We’ll get some more pain meds sent in straight away, how are you feeling?” Your eyes are half shut, looking at the woman in scrubs as you groan, “sore.” She puts your clipboard back onto the end of your bed, moving to your right side to check your temperature. “36.2. Temps good. What’s the last thing you remember?” You frown, not wanting to remember the pain and guilt Pedro had been through at the sake of your pain.

“I remember doing a stunt with Pedro, I think I fell and hit my head and waking up here.”

Pedro shakes his head, knowing that’s not the whole truth. The nurse nods, “okay, get some more rest if you can. I’ll get those pain meds back to you as soon as we can.”

The silence in the room was defeating, the noise ringing in your ears as you internally begged him to speak. He didn’t, so you did.

“I know I didn’t fall, it’s not your fault Pedro, we both messed up.” You turn your head to look at him and he’s still in his costume which makes you smile. “I thought I lost you. They said you might wake up with amnesia and you’d forget me.”

You reach out to him, holding his hand and weakly caressing his knuckles. “How could I ever forget you baby?” He finally looks at you, brown orbs watering at your kindness. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” “You did everything right to deserve me.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Pedro questions, his finger hovering above the play button as it’s paused right before your and his scene, when it happened.

It’s been a couple of months since your incident, unfortunately due to the severity of your head injury you were unable to continue filming, your producers were kind enough to pay you for the entirety of the film. You had given them permission to use the last take they filmed, they said the chemistry and emotion the two of you had brought to the movie was something they wanted to keep, and the lasso scene they had edited to make it look like a full on action movie. Of course during this whole incident, people had found out that you and Pedro were dating. Some weirdo in the hospital snapped pictures of the two of you kissing, you addressed it and admitted that you’d been together for a while now. Thankfully the fans have been nothing but supportive, but they’ve been asking if you’ve seen the new movie, saying you did a phenomenal job, praising you and Pedro for your work. You decided it was finally time to watch it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You exhale a shaky breath, Pedro presses the play button and he holds you close to him. His arms drawing circles down your arms to keep you grounded while you both watch the familiar scene unfold before you. “They have great chemistry don’t you think?” Pedro laughs, “yeah they sure do. Maybe they should just get married or something.”

The vulnerability of the scene nearly had you in tears, the music and editing was incredible. You tense as you brace yourself for the scene. You can’t will yourself to even blink let alone look away while it happens. You look to Pedro and sigh, “I’m okay, it’s just.. intense to relive all of that.” He kisses your temple, “I know baby, you’re so strong and I’m so proud of you.” You turn to him, “I’m proud of you too, you know.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “proud of me for what?” You snuggle into him, the warmth spreading between you like a house fire. “For not blaming yourself and for being there for me.”

“Always gonna be here for you baby.” You turn your attention back to the next scene where you were replaced with a stunt double who did the remainder of your scenes, so they decided not to kill your character off.

“Hey she’s pretty hot.” You jest. Pedro shrugs at the unfamiliar body with your face that’s been edited to it, “she doesn’t have an ass like you though.” He gives your ass a quick squeeze and you squeal. “You’re so lucky I love you,” his lips meet yours in a soft kiss, “I know honey, I am lucky.”

[leighsartworks216]

for the requests, 20 (suggestive) or 47 (non-sexual) with an afab enby reader? thanks!

20 - French kiss; 47 - Tummy kisses

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I'm soooo kiss starved oh mY GOD

Warnings: nudity, bathing together, very slight angst

Word Count: 546

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Kiss Prompts

“You look ravishing, darling.”

You chuckle and draw your Star closer with your arms around his neck. The water sloshes gently around his body as he kneels between your legs in the bath. A nice, relaxing spa day was long overdue. “Thank you. You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself.”

He smirked wryly, pinching your side playfully. You squirm away from it, glaring with no malice at the rogue.

He looks so at ease here among the steam and fragrances. The moment you brought up the idea, he’d gone on about which perfumes would suit you best, especially ones that would compliment his usual scent of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. Now you were actually here, sitting before him, trusting him to take care of you just as he trusted you to do the same, perfumes were the furthest thing from his mind.

Astarion can’t resist the temptation as he leans in and noses your neck, lips brushing along your collarbone. You sigh and tilt your head, allowing him more access to your neck. How strange for you to let a vampire so freely near your neck, and how he loves it.

“We only have a couple hours in here,” you remind him gently, but you don’t stop him. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as you go. He hugs your waist, squeezing you to show his appreciation for your touch. He couldn’t imagine going even an hour without your fingers brushing along his cheek, a day without a hug. He craved your touch just as much as he craved your blood, if not more.

“I can do plenty in a couple hours,” he teases, voice low. He feels goosebumps travel along your skin in spite of the hot water.

He kisses languidly along your neck, your shoulder, down your chest. His eyes are closed, his movements reverent. He doesn’t worship any god, but he worships you. His mouth leaves loving, chaste pecks along your stomach, until his chin just about touches the water. He sighs as he presses his nose against your tummy, smirking devilishly when you tense under him, tickled by the light touch.

Satisfied, he lifts his head back up. You look at him with such fondness, eyes relaxed and half-lidded not with lust but with contentment. You’re so gorgeous. So precious to him. It scares him; so much could go wrong so quickly. Who knows what will happen after this adventure is over? Would you even still want to be with him after that?

As if reading his mind, you cup his cheek and give him the sweetest smile. He can worry later. For now, he just wants you. He tilts his head into your hand as he claims your mouth. You welcome him easily, opening your mouth with the slightest brush of his tongue along your lip. He meets your tongue with his, tasting you, indulging himself in you. All his senses are devoured by you. Your smell, your sounds, your touch, your taste; even when he peeks at you, you look so utterly gorgeous. He cups the back of your neck with one hand, the other pulling you closer to the edge of the bath seat, and loses himself in everything you can give him.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Tippington Affair

Summary: Y/N and Dean are unaware of just how similar they are.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Angst. Pining. Some making out. Kissing. Fluff.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 5,314

A/N: In February I got a request from a lovely anon asking this:

hiii :)) idk of you're taking requests rn, but i was wondering if you could write something with dean x fem!reader where dean really loves her for a while but hasn't told her and plan on never telling cause he just thinks he's bad for her or that he's "poison", but he sees her getting close to some guy they're working with and starts to get like suuuper jealous, enough to make him forget he's not supposed to be with her. I absolutely love your writing and your stories, I'm pretty sure I've read them all haha :)) thanks!

It took me a while to get to this, but I hope you think it was worth it! Thank you so much for this request, Nonnie. And I hope everyone else who reads it enjoys it too. ❤️

Master List || Dean Winchester One Shots || Tag Lists

Dean shouldered his big green duffle bag, slamming Baby’s trunk and frowning at his phone.

-

-

Dean scowled at the name “Tippington”. Scott Tippington.

What the fuck kinda name is Tippington? Dean thought angrily. Sounds like he should be taking cigars and brandy in the library instead of out hunting with a flannel and a shotgun. 

Sam joined him back at the car, having just checked them in and got their room key from the front desk. He tossed it to Dean. 

“203.” He told him and they bounded up the stairs two at a time to the second floor of the Sleep Eazzz Motel. 

When they’d spotted the motel on the side of the highway and Dean mentioned stopping, Sam told him the name of the motel was too close to “Sleazzz Motel” and they should keep driving. But Dean had already been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight. Sam offered to take over but Dean said he needed to stretch out on a real bed. 

“Plus,” he’d pointed out, “you have a habit of really riding the brakes.”

So, they’d stopped for the night.

As they walked through the orange motel room door, they both gave a relieved sigh. The outside of the motel was hideous, but the room seemed decent. It actually smelled and looked clean, there was a decently modern TV, one from the 21st century anyway, and to Dean’s delight, both beds had magic fingers.

They each picked a bed and dropped their bags. Sam sat on the end of his bed and ran a hand down his face before turning to his brother.

“Hey, did you manage to get a hold of Y/N? Is she coming?”

Dean dug into his bag and started taking weapons out to clean them, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “N’ah, she’s werewolf hunting down in North Carolina.”

Sam nodded. “Ah. Too bad, we could use her.”

Dean shrugged. “We got this, it’ll be fine.”

Sam grunted his response and started unlacing his boots. Dean sat back on the bed and laid out a cloth to set the weapons on before starting in on his 1911. 

After a minute Sam kicked off his boots and pushed himself backwards so he was leaning against the pillows on the bed as he picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Dean was quiet until Sam settled on an old episode of The Simpsons and tossed the remote aside.

“Hey, do you know a guy named Scott Tippington? ‘Nother hunter?”

Sam scrunched his forehead thinking. “Out of Utah? Tall guy, blonde?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know him, that’s why I was asking you. What’s he like?”

Sam sat forward a bit to pull off his overly warm flannel. “Well, if it’s the guy I’m thinking of, I only worked with him once, a few years ago.” He darted a look towards Dean. “When you and I were, uh, apart. After Amy.”

It was awkward for a moment before Sam looked back at the TV and continued on. “Anyway, I don’t remember a ton about him, but we ended up on the same Rugaru case and we hunted it together. He was good, I think. If he was bad or stupid, I’d probably remember him more.” He looked at Dean again. “Why do you ask?”

Dean shrugged. “Oh, just Y/N said she’s working with him again. This is like the third or fourth case in a row they’ve worked together, so I was just curious.”

Sam smiled knowingly. “Ah! I get it now.”

Dean scowled at his little brother and then went back to aggressively cleaning the barrel of his pistol. “There’s nothing to ‘get’.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow.“You’re worried Y/N’s getting a bit too close with this guy.”

Dean scoffed. “Whatever. She’s teamed up with him a couple times, and I just wanna make sure he’s not a tool that’s gonna get her killed.”

“Uh huh.” Sam said in tones of disbelief.

Dean shook his head. “Shut up.”

He didn’t bother arguing the point with Sam any further because he knew Sam would see through him - had been seeing through him for the last four years, since the day they’d first had a run in with the former FBI agent.

***

Dean had been immediately blown away by her. She was a power and a force all unto her own, and she was immediately suspicious of them. 

They were working the case of a shifter who was shifting into different parents, and snatching that parent’s kid. They were pretty sure the bastard was selling the kids to other monsters for obviously horrific reasons.

Y/N was only aware of the most recent kid, snatched ten hours earlier. She was on the case, knowing that a twenty-four hour clock was ticking. There were witnesses and CCTV camera footage of the boy’s father picking him up from school, so of course he was their prime suspect. 

But when Sam and Dean came into the local FBI field office and said they’d been instructed to interrogate that suspect, Y/N had just frowned at them and asked to see their badges again. She’d studied them for a worryingly long time before handing them back.

She squinted at them. “You look kind of familiar to me. Have we worked together?”

Both brothers assured her they’d never met and demanded again to speak with the suspect in custody. She’d reluctantly agreed and taken them into the room. But they got little new information out of the incredibly distraught father.

As they were leaving, Y/N caught Dean’s arm and he’d been amazed with how much that little touch had affected him and how badly it made him want to pull her closer, cover her delectable mouth with his and see what she tasted like.

But she’d merely asked him one more time if they’d ever worked together. When Dean denied it again, she shook her head and let him go.

But early the next morning, she’d been outside their motel room, pounding on the door. Dean’s bed was the closest and he stumbled out of it, half asleep, to open the door. He stood there in his black boxers and gray t-shirt and she seemed momentarily surprised, looking him up and down before she pushed past him into the room. 

“Hey!” He protested. He looked over at Sam’s bed, but it was already empty and made up. Probably out running. Dean thought with an internal eye roll as he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on as Y/N spun around to confront him.

“I know why I know you.” When Dean said nothing, she planted her hands on her hips. 

“You're Dean Winchester. And that guy with you,” she pointed at Sam's bed, “is your brother Sam.” When Dean still stayed silent she moved her hands from her hips and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Also, you’re dead.”

She began pacing back and forth in front of him. “After a horrifying and bloody murder spree across several states, you were both killed - ‘decapitated’ the report said. When I called the sheriff who wrote the report, I found out that both he and his daughter, who just happened to be the coroner who processed the bodies, were also missing and presumed dead.”

She turned back to look directly at Dean and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, he found himself once again caught up in how beautiful she was, in the way her eyes flashed as she studied him. And once again he had the impulse to wrench her forward and crush her mouth under his…probably a bad idea, he thought.

Y/N eyeballed him, but he couldn't decipher her expression. Her voice was stern when she spoke. “I should be here to arrest the murderers who faked their own death.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

She stared at him for a minute before she shook her head. “No, because you and your brother aren’t the only weird thing going on with this case. After you left yesterday I dug deeper into the case and stumbled across six other cases, from local municipalities, of missing kids. The cases had been reported to the FBI for consultation, but they all seemed cut and dry, so the locals took care of it themselves.”

She inhaled deeply, frowning at Dean. “The disappearances of all six kids were reported as parental abductions. In every case, there was footage of the parent picking the kid up from school, but every accused parent vehemently denied taking them. Four out of the six suspects arrested, also had ex spouses who refused to believe their former partner had taken the child because they were in very friendly and functional co-parenting situations. Oh, and all six kids were never found, and no body was ever recovered.”

She shook her head. “Now there is a seventh kid missing and it’s exactly the same situation. If you add to that, two fake FBI agents who are actually mass murderers back from the dead, well I gotta think there’s something more going on here that I don’t understand.”

Sam walked through the door just then,  freezing when he saw Y/N standing in the middle of the motel room. 

“Uh…”

Dean waved him in. “Come on in, Sammy. Time to give the talk.”

So, they’d spilled the beans about who they were and the life they lived. She didn’t believe easily, but eventually she admitted that there had been a few other cases in her ten year career that had felt off, that left her with a bad taste in her mouth about what was really going on.

She’d insisted on helping them find the seven year old boy that was missing, and with her help they’d found the shifter and put a silver bullet in his heart in time to save the kid and return him to his real parents.

After that Y/N tried to go back to being an FBI Agent, but eventually she came to see the boys. 

“I can’t go back to pretending that everything is normal. Everytime we’re going after a suspect, I’m wondering whether they’re actually a monster in disguise, or if they’ve got a monster framing them.” She’d shrugged. “So, teach me to be a hunter. I feel like there’s gonna be a lot of career overlap, and hey, the FBI doesn’t pay great either.”

So they’d helped her out, but she was a very quick study and it hadn’t taken long for her to become a great hunter. They often worked cases together.

Or they had until a few months ago when Y/N had met up with Scott Tippington and started working all her cases with him.

Tippington. Dean thought again, dismissively. Definitely a douche.

***

***

“Cheers!” Y/N reached across the table and clinked glasses with Sam and then turned slightly to touch glasses with Dean who was sitting beside her. 

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Cheers.” He said with a nod. 

They all took a big gulp of beer and then clunked their heavy glass mugs back down on the table. 

“So, how have you guys been?” Y/N asked, wiping her hand over mouth to ensure no beer clung to her upper lip. 

Dean grunted non-committedly and she looked to Sam for further explanation.

Sam chuckled. “That’s Dean’s way of saying taking down that nest of vamps we went after, ended up being a bit tougher than we thought it would be. Three of the vamps were friggin’ huge and they didn’t go down easy.”

“Shit!” Y/N said, shaking her head and looking Sam up and down. “They were bigger than you?” 

Dean answered. “Yeah, believe it or not. One of them picked Sam up like he was gonna bench press him and then chucked him clear across the room. Thankfully, I was too quick and agile for him to catch me.”

Sam snorted. “Yes, you were just like a ninja while the one with the beard had you in a headlock choking you out.”

Dean waved him away. “Got out of it didn’t I?”

Y/N chuckled and took another sip of her beer. Sam shifted his gaze from his brother to her and gave her one of his dimpled smiles. “How about you? How’d your last hunt go? Wolves right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, and then a wraith on the way back. They were both pretty quick and clean. We took them out without a problem.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Right you were working with uh…what was his name again?” He asked, as though the name hadn’t been plaguing his nightmares.

“Scott Tippington.”

Dean picked up his cardboard coaster and began shredding it. “Right. You’ve worked with him quite a bit lately. I guess he must be good.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder, smiling fondly at the memory of her most recent partner. “Yeah, he is. I like working with him a lot. He makes me laugh.”

Dean nodded, a little rapidly, she thought. “Oh that’s good. Important that your partner can tickle your funny bone just before a demon smashes your head into a wall.”

Y/N frowned. “He’s a good hunter too.”

“Huh.” Dean grunted. “That’s good.” He nodded. “I mean it’s obviously more important that he’s a good hunter so, you know, he's not gonna get you killed. But it’s great that you get along so well too. Important.” He finished with a mumble.

Y/N looked at him askance. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The table was quiet for a minute until the waitress came by to drop off more pretzels and peanuts for the table.

Dean turned a bright smile her way and Y/N felt her stomach lurch as he moved into flirtation mode. She’d seen it many times before, over the last four years, and it never got easier. It was, in fact, the main reason she’d started hunting with Scott. She’d needed distance from Dean. She couldn’t keep watching him walk out the door with yet another new woman under his arm.

But once again, his charm was in full effect as he addressed their waitress. “Thanks sweetheart.” The waitress had long, dark hair, big boobs and a short skirt. She also had a very sweet smile that she flashed his way, making Y/N wanna scream or scratch her eyes out - maybe both.

The waitress popped a hip out as she stood beside their table. “No trouble, honey. Can I get you anything else? At all?” She asked, her warm brown eyes entirely focused on Dean.

Y/N thought the woman was being a little obvious and forward the way she rested her popped hip against their table and leaned forward so that Dean had a fabulous view of the cleavage revealed by her low cut, scoop neck t-shirt.

Dean didn’t even try to hide his ogling and Y/N gritted her teeth as he leaned his elbows on the table, looking up at the waitress. His green eyes glittered brightly with obviously dirty thoughts and promises. “Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing what time you get off.”

The waitress blushed prettily and bit her lip. “Um, I’m off at midnight.”

Dean gave an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Well, how ‘bout that, midnight is just when I was planning to head home. Maybe we could meet up.”

Y/N was clenching her teeth so hard she thought she might crack one as the waitress giggled and nodded. “Okay, maybe you can give me a ride home.”

Dean stared straight into the woman’s eyes and slowly licked his lips before speaking. “Oh, I can definitely give you a ride, sweetheart.”

“Jesus.” Y/N heard Sam mumble under his breath, but she didn’t spare him a glance. 

She was too intent on staring at the waitress who was practically salivating as she stared at Dean, before she giggled again and bounced away from their table. 

Dean watched her go with his head slightly tilted. 

When he swung his gaze back to her and Sam, he seemed slightly angry and she figured he expected them to bug him about his carousing while they were all just sitting at the table.

She wanted to make sure he knew she didn’t care, so she laughed. “Jesus Dean, why didn’t you just mount her right here on the fucking table.”

Oops, she thought, that sounded a bit more angry than teasing. 

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “What? I wanted a date, I got a date.”

Y/N snorted. “A date? A date implies dinner and a movie, I doubt very much you’ll bother with either. You don’t even know the woman’s name.”

Dean scowled at her. “It’s Cindy.” Y/N raised an eyebrow and he shrugged again. “She had a name tag, and I notice things.”

Y/N snorted. “Yeah, especially when they're pinned to a pair of enormous tits.”

Dean wore half a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He drained his beer in one swallow and stood up. “I’m gonna go ask Cindy for another one.”

He sauntered away and Y/N took her hands off the table and shoved them into her lap so Sam couldn’t see her shaking.

She raised her eyes to his and plastered on what she hoped looked like a real smile. “So, Sam, how is YOUR love life going?”

Sam chuckled. “Non-existent and boring.” He took a sip of beer. “How about you?”

“Non-existent and boring.” Y/N said with a small nod.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So…” Sam cocked his head. “You don’t have anything going on with this uh…Tippington guy you’ve been working with?”

“What? Ew! No.”

Sam frowned in apparent confusion. “Ew? Why ew?”

Y/N shook her head, her face still scrunched. “Because he’s the same age as my Dad!”

Surprise registered on Sam's face followed quickly by confusion. “Scott Tippington? Out of Utah?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, he's from Virginia, or…no West Virginia.”

“Oh.”

Y/N shook her head and then grinned at the idea of dating the grumpy old hunter. “I mean he's pretty good-looking for a 68 year old hunter. But…I think we're just gonna be friends.”

Sam smiled, chagrined. “That's probably a good plan.”

Dean sauntered back towards them and Y/N felt her stomach muscles tighten at his long-limbed, bow legged stride. Dean moved in a way that always made her take notice. When he was hunting, his movements were crisp and efficient, no wasted motions. He was precise and deadly. 

When he wasn’t hunting though, when he was relaxed, he moved his body through the world with a kind of ease, loose and almost carefree. He reclined in chairs, leaned in doorways, and put his feet up on tables. He stretched and relaxed his tall frame into comfortable positions that always made Y/N wanna climb up into his lap and cuddle.

He plunked himself back down beside her with a new mug of beer. Y/N tried to make her grimace look like a grin.

“So, you got your evening all planned out?”

Dean nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, we’re outta here in about fifteen minutes.” He looked at Sam and winked. “Don’t wait up.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Y/N let some of her frustration show. “So, you’re really gonna ditch us after like a half hour. I thought we were supposed to be catching up.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as she looked at his profile. “I figured we were all done catching up. Your wolf hunt went great cause you had your amazing new partner and our vamp hunt went kinda shitty cause we could have used an extra pair of hands.”

Y/N scowled at him. “Seriously? Are you pissed at me for hunting with Scott? I wasn’t aware we’d signed exclusive contracts.”

Dean chuckled darkly. “N’ah, we’re definitely not exclusive. You are under no obligation to us whatsoever. So, you’re good.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Y/N said and Dean turned to look at her. “You’re seriously running off to spend the night with wonder tits over there because you’re pouting?”

“Wow.” Dean said with a head shake. “Whatever happened to the sisterhood? That was pretty rude.”

Y/N scowled at him. “You know, you’re right. I should do my part for the sisterhood by going over to that nice girl and warning her to find another ‘ride’.” She said, using air quotes. “Cause God knows she’s gonna come to regret it when she turns into just another notch on your belt.”

There was no hiding her annoyance now and she didn’t bother.

Dean dropped his jovial pretext too and turned to face her better. “Why the hell are you being so preachy and judgemental? Since when do you give a shit who I fuck?”

“Dean-” Sam started to speak but Y/N spoke over him.

“I don’t.” she denied vehemently. “But I mean, Jesus. Do you ever think with anything other than the dick in your pants? I mean seriously, it’s gross.”

“Y/N-” Sam tried again but Dean leapt to his feet, banging the table and sloshing their beer across the wooden top.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sam mumbled as he jumped up too, trying to avoid the beer streaming towards him.

Dean’s face was furious as he stared down at her. “Well I don’t wanna gross you out, so I guess I’ll just go sit at the bar till I’m ready to go.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, guilt plagued her when she saw the hurt in Dean’s mossy green eyes as she slid out of the bench seat to stand just in front of him.

“Don’t bother. I’m gonna take off, got a lot of driving between here and my next hunt.” She stared up at Dean, hoping against hope that he might tell her that they should both stay.

But he just smiled a tight smile. “Yeah, say hi to Tippington for us.”

Y/N gave a terse nod. “Yeah, whatever.” She glanced at Sam. “Take care, Sam. Hope to see you soon.”

She didn’t bother addressing Dean again, just turning away and walking out the door, wishing she could leave behind her feelings for him just as easily.

***

Dean grabbed a rag from the bar and wiped up the spilled beer before sliding back into the seat across from his brother who was frowning at him.

“Dean, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

Dean glared back. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Why don’t you chase Y/N down and ask what the fuck’s gotten into her lately. She goes months without seeing me, us, I mean, and then storms away just because I had the audacity to make a date for later.”

Sam let out a frustrated growl. “You really think she was just mad you made a date, which, by the way, is a very loose translation for what actually happened with the waitress.”

“No, she was obviously mad and took off because she thinks I’m gross, cause she disapproves of my lifestyle, I guess.” He said, trying not to let the hurt bubble up. 

What the fuck do I care what she thinks of my choices? He thought angrily.

Sam opened his mouth to say something more, but Cindy showed up at the end of their table.

“My boss let me off a bit early.” She smiled bashfully and nodded towards the door, clearly anxious to be underway. “Wanna go?”

Dean smiled at her and stood up, grabbing her hand. “Hell yeah, let’s go.”

***

***

There was a pounding on Y/N’s motel door that would have woken her up if she’d actually been asleep. But she’d just been restlessly tossing and turning, feeling guilty about Dean, but hurt over Dean too. The fact that he hadn’t texted back, clearly meant he was still on his “date”.

The long and short of it was she was in a rotten mood and the pounding on her door at two in the morning wasn’t helping. 

Stupid drunken idiots next door.

When they wouldn’t take the hint and go away, Y/N threw off the covers and stomped to the door, throwing it open, ready to tell them to fuck off. But it wasn’t her neighbors on the other side.

“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, her surprise turning into a frown. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your date?”

“I got your text.” Dean answered, brusquely.

He was staring at her, raking his eyes up and down her form standing in the doorway. Two spots of pink rose in Y/N’s cheeks as she realized she was just wearing a ratty old t-shirt and panties. She tugged self-consciously at the front hem of the shirt trying to ensure she was covered. 

She opened her mouth to ask again what Dean was doing, but before she could get a word out, he’d pushed her backwards into the room with his hands at her waist. In one quick motion he kicked the door shut and spun her so he could slam her up against the wood-paneled wall.

She gasped, her eyes wide and her heart slamming against her ribs. Before she could get a word out, he was crashing his lips onto hers and sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like smooth whiskey and she was quickly drunk on him, her head reeling as his hands moved from her waist to grasp her cheeks and hold her steady.

His mouth ravaged her, pulling shocked and hungry whimpers from her throat. When he finally pulled his mouth away from hers, he simply trailed his silken lips down the length of her throat, while his rough hands strayed down her body to slip under the hem of her shirt and up her ribcage. His hands rested there, and he lifted his thumbs to brush tantalizingly against her rock hard nipples.

Y/N threw her head back, cracking it against the cheap wood paneling and knocking some sense into herself along with the slight pain. 

She shook her head and pushed against his forearms. “Dean! What the hell? What are you doing?”

He pulled his head up, licking his lips and panting heavily. His hands stilled, but they stayed warm against her ribs.

She tried to make sense of what was going on, but his tantalizing lips were still hovering above her and it was everything she could do to not simply ignore her sense of reason and latch on to them again. 

Instead she shook her head again and frowned. “Dean, what's going on? You were supposed to be on a date, remember?” She tried not to let too much vitriol into her voice, but felt like she’d failed. 

Dean’s jaw ticked. “I just drove her straight home.” He paused, still breathing rough. “I don’t want her.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again and he bit his bottom lip. “All I want is you.”

Y/N shook her head, willing herself to wake up and live with the disappointment of this all being a dream. “Dean,” she whispered, “what are you saying? Where is this coming from?”

Dean’s gaze turned sad before he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. “Don’t date him.”

Y/N frowned in confusion. “Don’t date who?”

Dean shoved away from her and ran a hand through his hair as he began pacing. “I know I have no right to ask you, I have no right to you, no right to love you, I know I’m poison, I know I’m an asshole for trying to make you connected to me, I know I’ll never deserve you.”

He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “I know Tippington is probably a much better option, but…” He strode three paces back to her and cupped her cheeks in his big hands. “But he can’t possibly love you more, want you more. I know that too.”

All Y/N could do was blink at him and then suddenly his words penetrated her brain and tears flooded her eyes and she begged her mind to just let her keep sleeping, keep living in the dream. 

Dean’s face crumpled and he looked stricken. He pulled her against his chest and she buried her face there. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It doesn't matter. Ignore me. It’s okay, I’ll be okay. You don’t have to say anything back. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please don’t cry.”

His voice sounded choked and he rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back. “I shouldn’t have come here like this. I’m an asshole, just ignore me, okay?” He repeated, and took a shuddery breath. “Date who you want, of course. Don’t cry.” 

Y/N pulled back from the softness of his flannel beneath her cheek, raising an eyebrow as she shook her head. “And what if I wanna date you? Does that declaration of love come with dinner and a movie?”

It was Dean’s turn to stare blankly at her. She reached up and dashed away her tears before wrapping her hands around the back of his head and pulling his lips back to hers. Y/N kissed him for a solid thirty seconds before his brain seemed to kick into gear and understand what she was saying. When he did though, he growled and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her ribs and pressing her close. She reveled in the long, hard feel of him pressed up against her, the way she’d dreamed of him for so many years.

When they were both desperate for oxygen they finally broke the kiss and panted harshly as they looked into each other’s eyes, both of them thrilled when they read the real, solid proof of love in the other’s gaze.

Dean’s beautiful face split into an equally beautiful smile. “So, are you really picking me?”

Y/N smiled back warmly and let her hands rest against his scruffy cheeks. “Dean, I love you, and I choose you completely, over everyone, anyone. But…” She grinned at him mischievously. “Scott Tippington is sixty-eight years old and has never been anything more than a good hunting partner. Just so we’re clear.”

Dean frowned. “But Sam said -” He cut himself short before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “So, I was jealous of nothing.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Were you jealous? Really? Like me with the waitress…Cindy.” She gave a little eye roll.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, we’re a couple of dumbasses.” 

Y/N punched him lightly in the bicep. “Speak for yourself. I wasn’t a dumbass, I was a tragic pining heroine. After all, you gave me no hints you felt this way; how could I have possibly known?”

“Are you serious?” Dean asked incredulously. “I did everything but climb into your lap and beg.”

Y/N laughed and then felt her body warm as she laid her hands on his broad chest. “I’d be onboard for that.”

Dean’s eyes darkened as he lowered his head and captured her lips in a long, languid, sensual kiss, just dipping his tongue in to taste her and sipping at her lips.

When he pulled out of the kiss to nuzzle the shell of her ear and then suck her earlobe between his plump lips, Y/N gasped and clutched his shirt in her hands.

“Please.” She whimpered.

Dean gave a soft, slightly wicked chuckle against her neck as he skimmed down her skin. “That was supposed to be my line, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@rizlowwritessortof

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

My Tbosas fanfic masterlist!!

My requests are open!!!

Of course, my request list/rules:

Request rules and list

Coriolanus Snow:

Romantic headcanons with Gender neutral reader

Coriolanus comforts gender neutral reader who is a tribute

Crush headcanon with Plinth! Female reader

Coriolanus looking through District Twelve for female! reader

Spending time with gender neutral! reader at the lake near District Twelve

Hurt comfort headcanons with male! Victor! Reader

Fluff to hurt/comfort headcanons with male! Reader

Lucy Gray:

Comfort fic in the arena with gender neutral reader

Romantic headcanons with female reader

Romantic poly headcanons with shy! Gender neutral! reader (ft. Billy Taupe)

Romantic headcanons of Lucy Gray exploring the woods with female! reader

If you were a boy - Lucy Gray x Fem! Reader fic

I'll hide you in my poetry - Lucy Gray x Fem! Covey Member! Reader headcanon & small oneshot

Sejanus:

Basic romantic headcanon with female reader

Female reader comforts Sejanus while he's in District Twelve

Sejanus Plinth x Fem! Snow! Reader romantic headcanons

Gender neutral reader angst with Sejanus after he's caught

Making peace with my inevitable death - Sejanus Plinth x fem! Reader romantic oneshot

Billy Taupe:

Romantic poly headcanons with shy! Gender neutral! reader (ft. Lucy Gray)

Mayfair:

__

Jessup:

Jessup Diggs x Fem! Affectionate! Reader x Reaper Ash separate romantic headcanons

Reaper:

Sejanus Plinth x Fem! Reader x Reaper Ash separate romantic headcanons

Jessup Diggs x Fem! Affectionate! Reader x Reaper Ash separate romantic headcanons

Basic romantic headcanons with gender neutral! reader

Fluff headcanons at a party with gender neutral! victor! reader

Are you sick of me? Would you like to be? - Reaper Ash x Fem! Crush Reader romantic crush headcanons

Dill:

__

Coral:

Coral x Gender neutral! Reader romantic headcanons

Intermixed romantic headcanons with gender neutral! Reader within District Four and in the arena

Mizzen:

Platonic headcanons with Male! Reader

Treech:

Romantic headcanons with friendly! Gender neutral! Reader

Won't you stay with me, my darling? - Treech x Fem! Tribute! Reader romantic hurt comfort fic

How pretty it is, I think I'm in love - Treech/Tanner x gn! Reader separate romantic headcanons

Lamina

Romantic headcanons with friendly! Gender neutral! Reader

Clemensia:

__

Tigris:

Basic romantic headcanons with female! reader

Dr. Gaul:

__

Brandy

__

Tanner

How pretty it is, I think I'm in love - Treech/Tanner x gn! Reader separate romantic headcanons

_______

This is all at the moment, there will be more added later when I get through the eight requests I have going already!!

Thank you all for your support, it's been very fun writing for this fandom!!

[whoahoney]

i’ll always be here…

Steve Harrington x Reader Request

Summary: Reader is late for her period and Steve comforts her

Content Warnings: pregnancy scare, mentions of sex, mature themes and language, pining, love confession, fluff, comfort, slight angst, ✨gets a lil spicy at times✨pervy thoughts

A/N: requested by one of my lovelies, please enjoy this sweet fluffy fluff just for you! I’m so glad everything worked out! you know who you are 💖

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

��How late is late enough???’

She’d wondered yet again, staring at her closet where the pregnancy test stayed hidden at the back, wrapped in a plastic sack, stuck in a brown bag, stuffed inside an old shoebox of rocks she’s kept her whole life. Granted it was a great hiding place for weed, she really didn’t need to hide it from anyone.

She just didn’t want it staring at her.

And now she was left wondering, over and over again if she could take the test yet. And then into the rabbit hole of ‘If I could, would I? Could I?’

Approximately five weeks ago, Y/n partook in a drunken fling, a cute boy from her psych class who happened to be at a party her friend dragged her to. She’d been especially mopey since she hadn’t heard much from her good friend Steve— otherwise known as the love of her life.

The beginning of the school year was always busy for both of them, Steve going to trade school closer to home and her going to a state university in the city. They’d kept up with their weekly phone calls, sometimes skipping one in between every once in a while, but around Halloween things kinda fell off on Steve’s end.

She’d spoken to his answering machine too many times to try again, beginning to feel like a desperate ex.

“C’mon, he’s not your boyfriend, why don’t you come to the party and get one?? It won’t be hard for you! Maybe then Harrington will wake the fuck up!” Her roommate Brandi cried from the front door, her blue shimmery dress matching her eyeshadow perfectly. She sauntered into the living room and looked over her friend's state.

“If you come with, I’ll get us cookies after.” She proposed, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Y/n weighed the offer and sighed exasperatedly, “You know I can’t turn down drunk cookies.”

Brandi celebrated as Y/n trudged back to her room to make herself presentable.

When they were at the party, Brandi spotted Cole Walker and waved him over, his stunning smile set on Y/n. “Look who’s coming over.” Brandi murmured in her ear. When Y/n saw Cole she blanched, catching the sight of his quaffed hair and square chin, believing him to be Steve for a moment as he took off his dark sunglasses. When she realized it was Cole, she felt a different feeling; first disappointment but then… opportunity?

Cole nodded at the both of them cordially, “It’s good to see you! I didn’t know you came to these.” He’d said to her. Y/n chuckled and shook her head, “I don’t!”

And three hours later, she was sneaking out of his dorm. He’d passed out seconds after he came, and neither of them had even stopped to think about protection.

So today, she sat here and waited; welcoming any and all incoming cramps or maybe an unexpected gush when she stood.

Anything. Please, God, anything.

And suddenly, her phone rang. She jumped and took a deep breath before she picked it up carefully, placing it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“There you are! God, have I missed you.” Steve breathed in relief.

Y/n stifled her gasp, tears welling up in her eyes at his voice alone. “Steve! Hi! Oh my god!” She smiled before her heart dropped back into her stomach. “Where have you been?!” She asked urgently.

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry.. I know I’ve been kinda MIA—“

“—Kinda?!”

“Okay, really MIA,” He edited. “This shits a lot harder than I thought it would be, Y’know? The workload is double, I still haven’t made any friends—my charm is not working, like at all,” she could practically see him counting off the reasons his life was going out of control on his fingers, “I have signed up for every study group I possibly can and by the end of this I am determined I will be the greatest pharmacist you’ve ever dreamed of.” He promised, slumping back in his swivel chair at his desk in his bare apartment. “It’s just gonna take all of my sanity, time, and money.” He chuckled.

For a moment while he rambled she forgot all about her troubles from the last month and some, just listening to his voice over the line was comfort enough. “So, what have you been up to?” Is all that brought her back to earth.

“Oh, you know…” she fiddled with the cord as she searched for an answer. She wasn’t the best with lies, let alone lying to Steve. “This and.. and that.” She cringed.

“This and that, eh? You been staying out of trouble?” He joked, though he waited for her response to gauge her answer.

“Oh, you know me.” She chuckled half heartedly.

And that’s how Steve knew. “Cut the crap, L/n, talk to me—what’s wrong?” He asked quieter.

“Nothing, Steve, don’t worry—“

“So there IS something!” He accused.

Her mouth ran dry and Brandi’s boyfriend knocked on her door to tell her they were home with dinner. “Hey, Steve, I gotta go, but, uh, I’ll call you later!” She said and hung up without a goodbye before she could catch herself.

Steve sat dumbfounded and had no other choice than to wonder why she shut down so quickly.

There had been a man’s voice in the background, was there someone else? Is that why she had to go so fast without saying goodbye? The anxiety began to eat him from the inside out, standing him to his feet and pacing the room for a bit. After another long and grueling internal struggle, Steve hopped in his car and drove the three hours to see the girl that lived in his head rent free from the moment he met her.

By the time Steve was knocking on her door, Y/n and Brandi were in their pj’s and watching the X Files on tv, the thumping making them jump and cry out in fear. “Fuck! This alien shit has me too wound up.” Brandi shuffled quietly to the hallway, waiting to grab her baseball bat until after Y/n looked through the peephole.

“It’s Steve!” She whispered and turned to her equally surprised friend. Brandi motioned for her to get the door as she scurried away to her room to give them privacy.

Y/n looked down at her large shirt and slippers, pushing her hair behind her ears and straightening her glasses before she opened the door. Of course he had to look like that. All perfect and smiley and happy to see her with that special glitter to his eye that seemed to only be present when she was around. “Steve.” She said easily as if she hadn’t checked.

“Hey, I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” He asked, scanning the apartment behind her for any trace of a visitor. She shook her head, “No! No, Brandi just went to bed.”

Steve nodded as she stepped to the side and allowed him into the house. He lingered in the small kitchen as he waited for her to lock the door back.

“I’m really happy to see you, but what are you, uh, doing here?” She asked.

Steve chuckled and cleared his throat uneasily before asking for some water, to which she obliged immediately. “Can we, uh, go to your room?” He asked after a sip. Y/n’s eyebrows raised, though it wasn’t a strange request, only strange circumstances.

“Yeah! Sure, right this way.” She attempted an easy joke as she led him through the dim house. Her heart pounded in her chest, wandering—spiraling into fear. Was this impromptu visit coming with news? Is that why he wants to be even more alone??

She shut the door behind him, smiling lightly when she saw him flop onto the end of her bed, his hair bouncing with him as he snatched a pillow from the head of the mattress and held it to him in a snuggle. “Okay, will you tell me what’s going on now?” She asked, joining him on the opposite side as she normally would.

Steve shot up, “I was gonna ask you the same question.” Y/n began to chew on her thumbnail as she pondered the possibilities.

It’s just a scare, he’s your best friend, the last person to judge you or hate you.

He wouldn’t hate her, right?

As she lost herself to her thoughts, she didn’t notice Steve right himself and scoot closer, their thighs touching. “C’mon, honey, talk to me. Are you okay?” He held her hand tenderly, sparks shooting up her arm at the contact. She took a soft gasp between her lips before exhaling with a tremble.

“I-I don’t know how to tell you, Steve.” She shrugged, waiting for the right words to formulate in her head on their own. Steve took a worried lip between his teeth as he waited.

This was it. She found a boyfriend and couldn’t be his friend anymore.

He prepared himself for counter-arguments, thinking of examples to show his honor and integrity. He thought about the many years spent together doing homework, getting food, late night phone calls when they couldn’t sleep. Did he know she whenever there was Steve, there was Y/n. And he couldn’t bear to let that fall apart over some guy.

“You don’t have to, Y/n/n, I-I shouldn’t have come until you asked.” He shook his head at himself.

“No!” She blurted. Steve looked at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, his ears tuned in to hear everything she had to say. “—No, I want you here. I’m so glad you’re here, Steve—“ she choked on an unexpected sob.

Steve looked at her strangely and scooted closer, placing a hand on her bare knee. “Then what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He stared at the side of her head, his brown eyes desperate and shiny.

She turned to him, her eyes already tinged with pink, and sighed, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip until it was bloody. “I’m late for my period.” She uttered.

Steve nodded, though nothing seemed to register in his mind— as long as he’d known Y/n she hadn’t mentioned any guys, let alone sex. He’d known she wasn’t a virgin, but through their friendship she hadn’t shown any interest in hookups. She placed her hand on his and sighed to keep herself from throwing up.

“It was some holiday party Brandi invited me to,” she explained slowly, Steve’s eyes snapping back up to meet hers. Where was this headed? “This guy from my psych class was there, and we talked and like…hit it off…” she shrugged, absolutely loathing herself for having to tell this story. This is the moment she should’ve been thinking about when she was walking back to Cole’s dorm at the end of the night. Steve’s face was full of confusion and disappointment, in her or for himself, she didn’t know.

He’d tried desperately to get over her, no amount of one night stands or bottle blondes could dissolve the hold she had on him. And she didn’t even notice it. Not even once. Steve eventually accepted she wasn’t interested in him farther than being a good friend. He quickly decided if he was stuck in the friend zone, he’d be the best friend she ever had.

“Oh!” He managed, quiet surprise lacing his voice though his eyes turned away from her, the simple action driving a stake into her chest, “So… does your… your boyfriend know this is—”

“He’s not my boyfriend—I haven’t even looked in his direction since— it was a mistake I was just—“ she cut herself off before she could further spill more embarrassing information to the boy she craved so desperately. Lovers or not, she needed his support. She had no idea how she managed before him.

Steve met her eyes again at her revelation, his shoulders and head looking lighter than before. “Just what?”

She breathed regretfully, knowing things couldn’t possibly get worse from here. “I was just—lonely?” She shrugged, her eyes on the floor.

There was a thick silence between them, the tv was audible from the living room on the other side of the wall. Steve took a deep breath and listened to the ache in his chest; thinking about the guy that got to have her in ways he’d only allowed himself to imagine.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered right as she did. He looked at her with the most confusion he’d worn all evening. “Why are you sorry?” He asked.

She shook her head, “Uh, I-I dunno, Steve. I just—I dunno, I felt like I was lying to you, I don’t wanna do that.” Tears pricked her eyes as she fought them with teeth sinking into her lip. Steve noticed the white knuckles on top of her balled up fists and scooted closer until they touched. He took her hand and uncurled her fingers, running his thumb over her palm to soothe the indentions she’d left.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, honey.” He urged in a whisper, his other hand coming up to her face to stroke the red and worried lip she’d just set free. “H-How… late are you?” He asked tentatively, still looking down at their intertwined hands.

“Three days.” She said quietly.

Steve cracked a small smile, “Hey, that’s okay! That’s only three days—and y’know, I read in a magazine one time that ‘stress can deter a woman’s cycle’, is that real??” He asked with a pointed finger.

A weight had been lifted off her as she thought about it. “I mean, yeah, that would make sense…” she nodded.

“See! Maybe take some time and next week if you’re still late, take a test. But I want you to know,” he said, his manner shifting as he looked her intently in the eyes again, “No matter what happens—with this or anything else— I will be right behind you.”

She sighed, tears welling up in her eyes at the affirmation. “Y-You promise?” She could only ask in a rasp, her eyes glittering with tears and her face crumpling. Steve’s brows wrinkled and he pulled her in for a tight hug.

“I got you.” He whispered to her. “Even if you didn’t want me.” He mentioned, though he wasn’t sure why he did.

His mind still floated back to the guy she’d shared the night with; What had he looked like? What was his major? Was he funny? Charming like him? Did he know she made funny face pancakes when she was sad and took walks on pretty days when she was happy? Did he know there’s a spot at the crook of her elbow that is unbelievably ticklish and that he wished so badly to plant relentless kisses there until she was choking on her own laughter.

“I’ll always want you, Steve.” She said without thinking, burying her nose in his shirt and breathing in the hints of coconut from his soap and contently sighing her exhale.

His eyes perked at the sound of that. “Really? Y’promise?” He asked before releasing her so he could see her face.

“Always.” She nodded sincerely.

Steve spent the night, happily taking the open spot in her bed. They laid facing each other, leaving a generous distance between them. Things were quiet but comfortable since their big conversation. The air was thick with silence in her dark bedroom, the blue hue of night streaming in through the open blinds and exposing the moon.

“Y’know…” Steve began carefully, still mapping his words, “If worst comes to worst… the kid could be a Harrington.” He shrugged.

Y/n crinkled her brow, studying his almost hopeful eyes. She shook her head, “Steve, no, that’s not—that’s so not fair to you. You don’t have to save me from my mistakes. Whatever happens I’ll figure—“

“—We. We will figure something out, like we always do. Y’know how many pickles you’ve gotten me out of?!” He asked incredulously, as if he were offering to put her name on a project or gift she had no part of. Not offering to raise her theoretical bastard child with her and sacrifice his own love life and happiness to protect and support his friend.

“Steve this is more than just a pickle— this isn’t distracting your grandma so you can sneak back into your room, okay? This is- this is your dream! If you do that for me, you won’t get your-your brood of Harringtons or a barbie doll housewife, and you deserve to have those things! I don’t want you to waste your life on someone you don’t love that way.”

Steve shot up in bed and looked down at her with bulging eyes. “Are you kidding me?! Is it really not obvious?” His brows were skewed with his fluster.

She shook her head and sat up on her elbows. “What?”

Steve scoffed a laugh of disbelief and covered his face with his hands and groaned while flopping back onto his back. He sighed and covered up. “Nothing, it was dumb—you should sleep.” He sighed and rolled over, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

“No!” She sat up again and tapped on his back gently, even just feeling the warmth of him under her fingers had her heart stuttering. “No, it’s not dumb, I-I’d love nothing more than to have you with me through this. I couldn’t do it without you, believe me. But it’s not fair to let you c-commit to me that way.” She explained.

Steve looked over his shoulder with hurt in his eyes. “Y/n/n… being with you is my dream. Whatever we’re doing.” He shrugged simply.

Y/n gaped, her eyes blinking as she processed his words. “What do you—but why would—“

“Oh, Christ.” He said as he sat up, bringing his hands up to her face and pulling her to him to envelope her lips in a warm and firm kiss that had her insides thundering and melting beneath his touch.

Cole hadn’t felt like this. Not one bit.

Steve released her lips with a sharp click, keeping her close and looking in her wide and now realizing pupils. “Honey, c’mon.” He urged quietly, waiting for her to say something—anything that could tell him he didn’t just fuck up years of friendship.

He released her cheeks slowly as he watched her heavy breath heaving her chest. Her cheeks were pink where he’d held her, and her eyes looked glassy and her mouth gaped, like she’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Steve?” She barely whispered, the sound of his name slipping between her teeth and lips with hardly any breath behind it.

His eyes met hers again, the usually warm brown was cold and dark in the room, moonlight shining through her windows illuminated his frame in silver. The open blinds cast shadows over her, their careful, gliding descent down her face was the only indication she was moving closer to him, to press her lips against his. He caught a gasp in his throat right as their lips connected, her warm, soft hands caressed his face like he had hers and he relished how gentle every one of her touches were against his skin.

“Oh, god.” He mumbled against her, the sounds of their breath struggling against one another and the feeling of her tongue brushing against his lips was easily pushing him farther and farther over the edge of logic. He wanted her. He’d been wanting her. He’d waited for so long for this moment, and all he could think of was what would be next.

But then he remembered himself and why he was here. His hands gently slid up into her hair, around the back of her neck, the warmth making her moan into him before he disconnected her lips from his.

“Y/n/n… I’ve always—I love you.” He nodded. She held onto his hands that held her as she nodded in agreement. “I love you too, Steve. I always have.” She leaned in again, and who was he to deny her another kiss from his lips?

After managing to keep their hands to themselves despite the lost time, the two agreed they would stop here for the night. Until they knew what was waiting for them in the next weeks.

The next morning the two found themselves intertwined in the middle of her bed, legs tangled and arms encircling each other's bodies. The slivers of exposed skin on skin stuck to each other, a feeling she would sit in until he moved first. The orange morning light streamed in on them, his deep morning sigh and stretch was evident of his waking, a small smile stretching on her face at the sound.

When he relaxed again, his arms wrapped her back up gently, stroking her shoulder under his hand. He peered down at her to see if her eyes were moving and he was delighted to see his Y/n was awake. She turned her head to him, her puffy morning eyes still squinting a bit as she smiled at him.

“Hi.” She greeted quietly, laying her cheek on his chest and letting her hair splay down his stomach. She would see the chest hair peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and couldn’t wait to find out how it felt if she ran her hand up the plain of his torso.

“Hey.” He smiled, the fingers on his other hand finding her scalp for a soothing head scratch. She sighed and smiled at his touch, her content face was one he wanted to kiss. And kiss. And kiss.

“You okay?” He asked after a moment. Her eyes fluttered open and she nodded, “Never better.”

It was decided Steve would stay through the weekend, neither of them explicitly mentioning their night as they went about their regular business, sweet and soft touches mixed in more often. When Y/n made them lunch, he’d stand behind her with his hands on her waist, his mouth planting soft kisses on her shoulder as she worked and tried not to turn into a puddle of warm mush on the floor.

When Steve offered to help her with some frames she’d been wanting hung up, she watched him from her bed as he hammered the nails into the wall, happily listening to him grumble about landlords and their policies, about how he would fill a thousand nail holes for her if it meant the pictures made her happy, and of course admiring the way his ass looked in his jeans.

She didn’t discount the way her heart fluttered more fiercely when he’d say words like ‘we’ or ‘us’, the way he’d reach over and hold her hand in the car or on the couch, or how she kept catching him staring at her with a faraway smile on his lips before looking away with a blush and chuckle.

They sat together the next night, eating take out and watching some re-run. Brandi was spending the rest of the weekend at her boyfriends house, leaving them completely alone.

The normalcy was warm, the way they leaned against one another as they ate, sometimes asking for a bite of the other's food, the way they chuckled quietly at the same things. Steve would sneak a peek at her, her full chewing mouth quirking up in a small smile before chuckling through her nose at the skit that played on TV.

The night turned darker but the two remained on the couch, her legs over his lap and his arm around her, keeping her in place. Her favorite blanket covered them as they stared at the screen, still not bringing up the true matters at hand. “I’ve—ahem,” he cleared his throat of the rasp in his voice, “I’ve had a great time this weekend, Y/n/n.” He smiled softly, his fingers now playing with the soft ends of her hair.

She smiled brightly at him, “Me too. I-I couldn’t tell you what I’d be doing if you weren’t here, Y’know?” She said quietly. Steve placed his hand back on her cheek and tried not to grin too big when she leaned into his touch like a cat.

“I’ll always be here.” He said, her eyes snapping to him as he did.

She knew he was telling the truth just by the way he looked at her. Simple words that carried a thousand pounds each. Just the one word alone, ‘always’ sent a shiver through her.

The breath left her as his eyes turned darker and hungrier. She couldn’t tell if she pulled him closer by his hand or if he pulled her to him, but it didn’t matter. Either way resulted in their mouths clashing together and her straddling his lap.

She kissed him like she was starving, licking into his mouth and tenderly sinking her teeth into his bottom lip being the only way to satiate the hunger burning in her core. Steve groaned openly as she released his lip and dove down to his freckled neck to resume her affection there. His fingers dug into her back and upper thigh, and she hoped he’d leave small dime sized bruises for her to cherish after he went back to school.

Until she got to see him again. The idea burned unpleasantly inside of her, provoking her to suck the spot just above his collarbone into her mouth, running her tongue over it soothingly before biting.

“Ah! Oh, shit—“ he exclaimed, making her jump back in alarm.

“Was that-was it too much?” She asked behind her flushed cheeks. Steve shook his head adamantly, “No! No, come back.” He breathed, pulling her back to his lips, “I love you—I’m yours, do whatever you want to me, baby.” He whispered against her mouth before taking her lips in his again. Her eyes burned with tears at the sound, along with her throbbing core he grinded her down onto his lap.

Suddenly, a gush appeared between her thighs. Nothing carnal, nothing crazy, but it made her eyes shoot open, and before his eyes could adjust from their closure, she was off his lap and in the bathroom. Steve cocked his head as he heard the door slam. He froze. What just happened?

“Uh, Y/n?” He called, abandoning his place on the couch to approach the bathroom door. Did she change her mind? Was that too much?

“I DID IT!” She cried happily.

“What?” He asked in momentary confusion. The door in front of him flew open, and she wore a bright smile and her eyes were wide. “I got my period!”

“You got it?!” His eyes popped wide open, his arms slightly raised and open in front of him for her to walk into as she nodded eagerly.

“I’ve never been so happy to bleed!” She cried and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly to him, a smile of relief flooding his face. “Oh thank god.” He whispered in relief.

Her heart sank in her chest at his words. “So, what-what does this mean?” She asked as she pulled back to look at him. He shot her a curious look. “What, your period? Means you’re not pregnant, right?” He asked with slight panic.

She shook her head, “No, no, I meant what does this mean for.. us?” She shrugged one shoulder.

“No-Nothing, honey,” his hand found her face. “Always here, remember?” He leaned closer, placing a peck on her lips. “I love you, maybe even more now that I know you aren’t gonna have someone else’s baby.” He joked.

She rolled her teary eyes out of habit at his antics. He swiped his thumb under her eye to catch the falling tear. “I must say I may have been a little excited at the thought of watching you get all.. big.. and… round..” he trailed off dreamily, his hands sliding down her shoulders and to her waist, his gaze landing on her chest and stomach as he sighed.

“Someday, though.” He nodded, speaking to himself more than her. He looked back up to her eyes and smiled at her blushing cheeks.

“Someday?” She asked, stepping forward and into his kiss as he nodded.

The next weekend, Y/n made the trip to surprise Steve, hoping to stay the weekend at his apartment close to Hawkins. She’d been vibrating with excitement as she stood in the hall, hearing footsteps pad up to the door where she had her thumb over the peephole.

“Who is it?” He asked.

“Why don’t you open the door and find out?” She said, unable to keep the smile from her voice. The locks immediately slid and clicked, one right after another. The knob jiggled before the door flew open and Steve stood shirtless with a gaping mouth and a smile that lit up his whole face.

“Y/n/n!” He said as she threw her arms around him, he buried his fingers in her hair and kept her close with his other arm wrapped around her back.

“Surprise!” She said quietly, taking in the scent of the left over cologne on his bare skin. He chuckled against the side of her head and pulled her inside, shutting the door with his foot. His hands found her cheeks and pulled her in for a thousand small kisses with words scattered in between.

“What are you—doing here?” He asked across her cheeks and nose. She held onto his wrists and giggled, “I thought it was my turn to surprise you, you know?” She cut herself off by pulling his cheeks down for a sprinkling of her own kisses. “—Missed you.” She mumbled against his lips before releasing him, her eyes wide with anxiety as a thought clicked, “I-If that’s okay?” Her lips ghosted over the skin of his collarbone, driving him wild as he felt her breath tickling him.

“Oh, honey, of course it is!” He implored before kissing her forehead, “—I missed you too.” He said with a flirty lilt to his tone as he stroked her back and found her lips back on his neck.

“And—“ she deepened her kisses at the crook of it, her tongue getting involved before she pulled back, “—wanted to tell you—“ she moved to the other side and backed him to the couch in the center of the room, “I’m off my period.” She grinned as she pulled back.

His eyes widened before he spoke, “So—so we can—“ she pushed him down to sit on the couch and nodded as she straddled him. His hands found her ass immediately and finally noticed she wore the plaid skirt he’d always dreamed of. Her tits were perfect and rounded in the black sweater and he palmed them through the cashmere.

He’d waited so long—so long— for this moment. Spending night after night imagining the way her tits looked: if they hung lower, if her nipples looked different ways or straight on, how big they would be and if there’d be any freckles for him to befriend if he ever had the pleasure and blessing of seeing them. Steve held no preference, as long as he could put his hands and mouth on them, he didn’t care one bit.

But tonight would be the night those thoughts and questions would be put to rest. Tonight the veil would be lifted and he would see her in all her glory. “Oh my god...” is all he could mutter as she picked up the hem at her waist and peeled the sweater off.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple months later, Steve walked the short distance from his girlfriend’s apartment to the building of her last lecture of the day. It was another Friday where Steve was to come to her, except this time he wanted to surprise her again.

He’d been coming to her apartment every other Friday at 7 pm for their weekends to begin, so this week he thought he’d start things earlier by picking her up from class and walking her home. He looked at his watch, the class due to be dismissed any moment now.

He made the leisurely trip to a large tree in the middle of the campus yard, not fifty yards from the entrance. He leaned against the tree and tried not to smile at the thought of her face when she would spot him. Then he thought back to how he’d found the cafe she was always praising, and hoped to buy her a cup on the way home.

Y/n was approaching the dark doors at the front of the school when she heard her name called from behind her. “Wait up!” Cole said loudly from the end of the hall as he jogged to her. She reached the doors and shoved them open, leaning on the door for him to catch up.

“What’s up?” She asked blandly as he approached, his hand holding the door open for her as she continued her walk. The yard was full of students at this point, making Steve’s presence against the tree unknown.

“I was uh, just wondering why I haven’t seen you around the dorms lately.” He shrugged, “And was hoping I could borrow your notes on last week's lecture—I was sick.”

She nodded as they reached the last steps and opened her binder to carefully remove the three pages he requested. “I went to Trisha’s party a couple weeks ago hoping to see you there.” He mentioned.

She didn’t bother to look up, didn’t notice Steve approaching from behind his great-value-wannabe. But he couldn’t help but slow down once he was in hearing distance to see how the rest unfolded.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.“

“—thought we had fun…” Cole shrugged discouraged, looking at the ground between them.

“I did have fun…” She said with an unsure lilt in her voice. “It’s just, well, I’ve been spending time with my boyf—Steve!” She dropped the conversation and a smile broke out on her face at the sight of her boyfriend against the returning green of the courtyard. He grinned as he approached, noting how she stepped around Cole and ran into his arms, binder, bag, and all.

She looked up at Steve and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, “I missed you! What are you doing here?” She gushed.

“Well, I was getting too predictable! And the weather was too nice to let my girl walk home by herself.” He smiled down at her, stroking her cheek delicately as he answered.

She blushed and chuckled in response, “You are the sweetest, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Steve blushed and looked back up at the poor guy getting let down by his sweet girlfriend when he noticed the striking resemblance between them. The boy was handsome, but his square features didn’t quite fit together like Steve’s did. Though, the hair—the hair was on point. They both carded a hand through their perfectly tousled locks as they eyed each other.

“Oh! Cole, this is my boyfriend, Steve.” She smiled as Steve took the binder from her arms and slung her bag over his shoulder. He sent the boy a friendly nod though his eyes were hard and trained on him. Cole sent a nervous nod back, “Nice to meet you man. Anyway, thanks for the notes.” Cole held them up in gratitude before walking away briskly.

“I need them back before the quiz next week!” She called after him, Cole turning and throwing a thumbs up.

“Or else I’m gonna have to kick your—“

“He’s kidding! He’s kidding.” She said with a hand clasped over his giggling mouth as he fought against her, “No I’m not!” He called once he freed himself from her hand, laughing harder the faster the boy ran.

Once Cole was out of sight, the two studied each other. “What was that?” She asked with a chuckle as they began to walk.

Steve shrugged. “I may not have gotten into university but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that was the guy you slept with.” He snorted and threw an arm around her as she blanched and gaped. He laughed again at her fluster and pulled her closer to plant a kiss on her head. “C’mon I thought it was cute!”

She rolled her eyes and unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders to pull him along with a groan.

“So tell me… do you have a type or is your type just me?” He asked smugly, his heart melting as she covered her face in embarrassment—her blush stroking his ego much more than it should’ve, and then offered to buy her a cup of hot chocolate.

-

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Taglist babies 🤍

@loving-and-dreaming @newshade @marvel-sw-lover

[echoric]

FIRST OFF I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR FICS!! Secondly I was wondering if I could request a little Drabble? Maybe a “Iceman is openly gay with slider, Hollywood and wolf man. But Maverick isn’t as comfortable with his sexuality and thinks he still has to act straight even though he’s got it BAD for ice”

first off thank you so much!!! :DD im glad you like my writing <3 & secondly of COURSE i can write that, i love a bit of closeted angst (i hope i got everything the way you wanted) this got a bit longer than i expected lol, it is crossposted to ao3 (HERE) if anyone prefers that format

standing face to face with "i told you so"

icemav angst (Word Count: 3,488)

Ice was staring again.

Maverick could feel those intense blue eyes burning into the side of his head as he intentionally stared forward, scanning the crowd at the bar as if he were actually looking for someone or something. He’d already gotten caught twice by the man when he had chanced a glance back to see if he was watching or not, and Maverick wasn’t sure his heart could take anymore eyecontact with the other pilot. Goose had kicked him in the shin in time for him to look away before an approaching lady caught him staring at Ice last time. But Goose had since drifted away to join the other pilots and RIOs in conversation, leaving Maverick alone at the bar and painfully aware of Ice’s attention. His pulse was racing, making his cheeks flush slightly as he thought about meeting his gaze again just to see.

“Right, Maverick?”

He almost jumped. He had forgotten completely about the lady at his arm – Sandra…or was it Sarah? He scrambled, but flashed her a smooth, well-practiced grin, and laughed, not knowing at all what she was asking him and hoping it was the right resposne. She seemed pleased with his laugh, giggling to herself as she leaned into his side to distance herself from the tall, frustrated-looking man who had followed her up to Maverick’s spot at the bar. Maverick gave the man a sharp, teeth-baring grin as he draped his arm over Sandra’s shoulders, leaning into her like a confident boyfriend.

“In fact, everyone keeps asking when we’re going to be engaged. This scoundrel just can’t commit, isn’t that right, Maverick?”

“You know what they say about us sailors. Brandy, you’re a fine girl,” Maverick crooned, half-singing with a wink. He placed a chaste kiss on her temple to keep up the act.

She laughed and put her arm around his waist, squeezing him as she looked up through her eyelashes, “What a good wife I would be?”

“But my life, my love, my lady–”

“Is the sea,” they finished in sync, laughing together. The man at her heels finally seemed to take a hint and walked off with an irritated huff, muttering under his breath.

Sandra stayed close up against his side for a while as she watched the man leave. She relaxed as Maverick leaned back against the bar, sighing and shaking her head. Her arm fell from around his waist and he took his arm back. She smiled at him, a sad look in her eyes and exhaustion in her voice as she spoke quietly enough that the music would’ve kept it a secret from anyone else, “Thank you for being a good man, Maverick.”

“Pete,” Maverick said with a smile, holding his hand out like it was a business deal. Her smile softened and she took his hand in a firm grip.

“Sandy,” she said as she shook his hand once, “but you can call me Brandy, sailor.”

Maverick grinned and tilted his head with a shrug, “It was improv.”

“It was good. Really,” she waid with a grin. She pulled a small compact mirror with an ornate carving of a flower on it from her bag and checked her reflection in it. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed again. “Some men can never seem to understand that some ladies just aren’t interested.”

Maverick raised an eyebrow, slightly caught off guard by the change in topic. He was about to respond when his eyes scanned over the crowd absently and caught another pair of eyes watching them. Ice still hadn’t looked away – or if he had, he was looking again. Maverick felt a thrill shoot up his spine as he locked gazes with the man, dangerous and electric, but it was overpowered by the familiar urge to smother it and push it back down deep where no one might see it. Not even him. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Ice, looking back to Sandy.

“Mhm. Can I buy you a drink, Brandy?” Maverick asked waving to the bar behind him and pointedly ignoring the stares he was getting from Ice and the other pilots and RIOs. “Just between friends. I understand when a lady only wants to use me for her protection.”

Sandy laughed and snapped her compact mirror shut. She turned to lean against the bar with her forearms crossed. Maverick caught a flash of a white handkerchief in the left pocket of her jeans as she hummed, scanning over the bar’s options. Sandy eventually smiled and waved the bartender over, “I’ll have a whiskey, neat. Put it on the sailor’s tab.”

“Mitchell,” Maverick said in response to the glance from the bartender. He nodded and turned to make her drink as Sandy turned to face Maverick more. “So, Brandy, what brings you here if not to flirt with all the sailors? Everyone knows that’s the main crowd at this dive.”

“My taste is less…salty, more sweet,” Sandy said with a wink. She nodded to the bartender with a smile as he handed her the drink she requested. “If you know what I mean?”

Maverick had no idea what she meant. He nodded anyway, pretending to understand with a quiet hum. He waved to the bartender and he slid Maverick another glass of the tequila that he’d been sipping on all night. He couldn’t resist glancing tot he side out of the corner of his eye as he waited for the drink to be poured, seeing if the attention from the table across the bar was still on him – it was. Sandy lifted her cup when he picked his up, they clinked them together before tossing them back in sync.

“Put it on my tab this time. Tequila,” Sandy called out to the bartender. She ran a hand through her hair again before sliding a shot to Maverick with a grin. “You up for a challenge, sailor?”

“I can drink in circles around you, Brandy,” he said confidently. His mind was already drifting back to Ice even as they clinked their glasses on the bar before tossing them back in sync. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the sharp, nervous edge around the other pilot, but the awareness of that was always muted, vague. He blamed the tequila for how loud it seemed now. Maverick smiled easily at Sandy, feeling easy and in his element even if he could pick up that it was strictly platonic competitive energy between them. He was good with women. He’d dated countless women he genuinely liked; he could talk with them easily, laugh with them, play the part of a flirt without breaking a sweat – it was easy. Comfortable. Ice broke away any part of that comfort with his harsh words and challenging stares. He wasn’t simple or easy to get along with, and it was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“You’re not as oblivious as other men, are you?” Sandy asked before their next shot arrived. Her eyes were studying his face intensely, softened by alcohol and maybe a bit of camaraderie that Maverick wasn’t sure why she’d feel with him. Her eyes flitted briefly over to wher eIce was sitting, one eyebrow lifted just slightly out of his neutral resting face as he watched them – watched Maverick. “I mean, you’re clearly aware of your surroundings.”

Maverick shrugged and gave Sandy the grin that had saved him countless times in the past. “Iceman? Yeah, he’s competitive and a good pilot. We’re just…you know, rivals.”

“Oh, is that what they call it now?” she asked, her voice low and teasing as she grabbed two more shots for them from the bartender. For a split second, he felt his heart lurch into his throat and his face felt hot, a definitely blush creeping over his face that he couldn’t blame on the alcohol – an embarrassing reaction to what was likely just a harmless question. 

Sandy gave him a sympathetic smile and pushed the shot into his hand, tossing hers back. “Relax, sailor. Just a friendly observation.” She didn’t look away from him though, and her expression softened a little as he took his shot and forced his eyes away from Ice for what felt like the umpteenth time. There was understanding in her eyes, sad and compassionate. “Listen, Pete, I know we don’t…know each other at all. But if you ever need to, you know…talk through it, or whatever, I get it.”

“Get what?” he asked – too quickly. She gave him a look that let him know that she could see straight through him. A slow grin worked across her face as she ordered another round.

“Oh, nothing,” she said lightly, “just some people like their whiskey neat, others like it with a twist.”

Maverick forced himself to laugh at Sandy’s comment, but her words lingered, stirring something he didn’t quite want to confront. He swirled the tequila in his glass, downing it quickly – he was drinking too fast, too much, he should cut himself off, but he lifted his hand to order another round from the bartender. Sandy simply watched him with a calm, knowing smile. After a moment, she leaned in with a conspiratorial grin.

“You know, Pete, I think I’ve had enough of sailors for tonight. I’ve spotted someone who might be more might type, think she’d be interested?” She nodded subtly toward a tall brunette with a sharp undercut and a black leather jacket, looking just a bit out of place in the sea of Naval whites. Maverick raised an eyebrow, watching Sandy adjsut her hair and straighten her jacket. She looked at him and gave him a playful wink and sly grin. “Wish me luck, sailor?”

He grinned back, feeling a strange sense of relief as everything clicked into place. He lifted his new glass to her, “Good luck, Brandy. I doubt you’ll need it.”

Sandy winked again and, with a confident sway to her hips, headed off across the bar with an impressively steady gate for taking so many shots with him so quickly. Maverick once again was alone with his own thoughts at the bar. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt the full force of Ice’s stare on him again. He tossed back the drink and slid his card to the bartender to close his tab. He’d probably regret his game with Brandy in the morning, but he didn’t care in the moment as he gathered himself and headed over to the table where the other pilots and RIOs were laughing and talking.

“Hey, Mitchell!” Slider called, smirking as he looked to where Sandy was now talking  to her new interest. “What happened to your date? You let a catch like that slip away?”

“Oh, come off it, Slider, she was just looking for help to get away from that creep,” Maverick said, shrugging it off. “She wasn’t my type anyway.”

Slider gave him an exaggerated look of utter disbelieve. “Not your type? That was probably the hottest lady in here, man. You’re slipping.”

“Maybe my standards re higher than yours,” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively and rolling his eyes.

“Please,” Hollywood chimed in with a grin and chuckle. He leaned back with his drink and pointed at Maverick. “Just face it, Mav, you just got friend-zoned by one of the hottest girls in this dive. Maybe she could tell you were already in love.”

“Or maybe I don’t chase after anything with a pulse unlike some people,” he snapped, his tone a little sharper than he had intended – the tequila. He glanced away as everyone went silent, feeling uncomfortable and awkward from the tension he’d accidentally caused. It was broken after a few moments by a low chuckle from Ice, which made Maverick glance over at him.

“That’s bold, Maverick. Those ‘some people’ might be at this table, you know,” Ice said, making intense, pointed eye contact that made Maverick’s cheeks burn before sipping his drink casually – vodka and lime. The usual. Always so predictable, going by the rule book even when they were supposed to be relaxing with friends.

“I’m just saying, I’m not into the…what, all the new-age ‘free love’ shit going around lately. Some of us still have standards,” he muttered – the words tasted bitter even as he said them. It was a cheap shot, a low blow, and not even something he believed, but he felt cornered and couldn’t think of an escape besides digging his way out. The air around the table grew still, and Maverick had the feeling his escape had actually been his grave he was digging deeper.

“You’re out of line, Mitchell,” Hollywood said evenly, his usually easygoing tone long gone. “It’s one thing to tease, but you don’t have to be homophobic about it.”

“Mav, I think we should get going. You’ve probably had too much,” Goose said slowly. He’d been laughing a moment ago, Maverick felt guilty over being the reason why his RIO looked so uncomfortable. “C’mon, man–”

“You know, Mitchell,” Ice said, cutting Goose off with a calm and measured tone. His depression was impossible to read, ice-cool as always but his eyes were sharp, as if he were silently daring Maverick to say something else. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have such a problem with someone like me. There are so many better things for you to hate me over.”

Maverick’s stomach dropped. He could feel his pulse pounding as he stared at Ice. His mouth felt dry, and suddenly, any bravado and defensiveness he might’ve still had disappeared. He glanced around, trying to gauged if the others known all along, trying to read their expressions – but the tequila was making his thoughts feel muddled. Hollywood seemed to take pity on him and sighed, “If you didn’t know, now you do. Ice here is about as interested in women as that lady was in you.”

“I didn’t— I mean, I don’t care if he’s— If you…I—whatever, do whatever you want,” he muttered in a voice that sounded defensive even to himself. He tried to laugh it off but it sounded hollow even to himself. Goose stood up and grabbed Maverick’s arm in a light grip.

“Let’s go take a breather, man. You’re good, just…let’s go take a break,” Goose said quietly, tugging on his arm gently. Ice’s eyes held Maverick rooted in place, steady, waiting. There was something like pity in his gaze, but there was something else too – a challenge. Maverick couldn’t look at him directly, so he looked away like a coward, mumbling something under his breath that he didn’t understand. Ice nodded to himself and stood up.

“You’re good, Goose, I’ll get him home. I was about to get going anyway,” Ice said, brushing Goose’s hand off Maverick’s arm and replacing it with his own.

“You sure?”

“Don’t play pansy with me, I’m the only one here,” Ice said, making the table erupt into laughter – the tension finally breaking.

Maverick felt like he was on fire, heat consuming him and originating from the spot where Ice’s fingers were holding his arm in a firm grip. He didn’t fight it as Ice tugged him gently to guide him through the bar. Maverick glanced around and saw Sandy with the other woman; she gave him a knowing once over before looking at Ice’s hand on his arm and back to his eyes. There was a glint of pride in her eyes as she lifted her glass to him, and then he was outside.

Outside and alone with Ice.

“Mind if I have a smoke while we walk?” Ice asked casually, as if nothing had been said inside. 

Maverick shrugged. Ice took that as permission and somehow fished a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, lit it, and took a puff without ever letting go of Maverick’s arm. He blew the smoke out away from Maverick, which he appreciated – the smell of smoke was making his stomach suddenly realize how much tequila it had consumed in such a short amount of time. He was stumbling and swaying as they walked despite his best efforts, making his leg brush against Ice’s with every other step. Maverick felt like if Ice made eye contact or they touched one more time, his head might explode from the amount of blood making his face burn.

“‘m sorry,” Maverick said when he knew they were alone.

Ice glanced over, taking another slow inhale through his cigarette without saying a word. Maverick almost wondered if he’d even spoken out loud, or if his words had been too slurred for the other pilot to understand. Ice’s hand tensed around his arm and he pulled Maverick to the side, nodding politely to the man he’d almost walked straight into without even realizing. Maverick stumbled from the sudden change in direction, unable to stop his legs as he staggered into Ice’s side. The other pilot reacted faster than Maverick’s drunk brain could track, holding the cigarette in his mouth and catching Maverick with both hands, steadying him until he got his feet back under him.

“You’re a real piece of work, Mitchell,” Ice muttered, waiting for Maverick to start walking before he grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth again and exhaled the smoke. “Dangerous in the air, and dangerous on the ground. Never would’ve pinned you for one of those.”

“Of what?” Maverick asked, wincing at the look that question earned him.

“A homophobe.”

Maverick felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. He didn’t know what to say in response to Ice’s words. He’d said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, as if Ice was completely confident in Maverick being hateful and that he had almost accepted it as a fact just as easily as the sky is blue and Ice is the best pilot in the Navy. Maverick didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, he didn’t know what words could help him. 

So he didn’t say anything.

The rest of the walk was in silence. Ice eventually flicked the stub of his cigarette into a random ashtray. They stayed shoulder to shoulder, and the grip Ice had on his arm was the only thing keeping Maverick from falling into the street in front of oncoming traffic. Maverick didn’t really remember most of the walk, but Ice somehow got them both onto the base and into the barracks. He came back into his body sitting on his bed, swaying in place as Ice helped him pull his uniform off. Maverick blinked up at him when Ice stepped back. The silence felt heavy. Maverick needed to break it, or risk breaking the unsteady beginning of a friendship that he’d only recently felt starting between them.

“Ice–” Maverick staggered when he stood up too fast, feeling very underdressed in his boxers compared to Ice’s pristine and perfectly tailored Naval whites, but uncaring as he caught himself with his hands on Ice’s shoulders. Ice caught him again, hands gentle and firm on his upper arms as he helped Maverick find his balance. “Iceman, Ice, I–”

“Don’t say anything, Mitchell. You won’t remember it in the morning, and I need you to remember this conversation,” Ice said; his voice sounded sad. His eyes were sad. Maverick had made the steady, ice-cold Iceman sad.

“Ice,” Maverick repeated, shifting his hands to hold his shoulders more firmly. He licked his lips to moisten them and saw Ice’s eyes dart down to them before the man looked back in his eyes. “Ice.”

Maverick threw all caution to the wind, leaning in and standing up on his toes. A hand pressed over his face before his lips could reach their target. Ice’s expression was tense, eyes still sad but filled with understanding that made Maverick feel like his soul was laid bare between them for Ice to inspect. He shook his head slowly and pushed Maverick back gently, taking his hand away from his face as he helped him sit back down on the bed. Maverick stared at him with confusion and hurt probably written clear as day in his expression, and Ice gave him a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He cupped Maverick’s face and brushed his fingers through his hair before pulling all of his touch away all at once.

“You won’t remember this in the morning, Mitchell,” Ice said softly, he tilted his head as he studied Maverick. “Go to sleep. If you remember anything, I’ll be at breakfast.”

Ice’s words felt like an order that Maverick couldn’t ignore as his eyes grew too heavy to protest. A gentle hand helped ensure he was lying on his bed as he tipped over bonelessly. He heard footsteps and shuffling nearby, but the world faded too fast. The last thing he thought he felt was a hand brushing through his hair as the sheet was pulled over his chest.

[bartxnhood]

why won’t you love me? a.f.i & c.t.h

calum hood x fem!reader, ashton irwin x fem! reader.

summary: after finding out calum had left you, ashton came to your rescue but he had his own secret

warnings: oh god there’s so much angst, strong language, angst, and did i mention angst? oh and no happy ending.

a/n: hi guys !! it’s been a while song i had an original work but this is all for my 5sos ppl <3. i hope you enjoy !! feedback is appreciated !!

disclaimer: this in no way shape or form represents calum hood as a person. this is strictly fiction and written for entertainment purposes. thank you.

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you stared out the passenger window feeling like you had just lost everything in your body. the only thing you felt was numbness. no pain, no sadness, nothing. you had cried out all your tears, you were left numb

ashton looks over at you from the driver's seat, his heart aches knowing how hurt you are, and how he made you like this. it broke him. ashton was your best friend and he tried to do everything in his power to be there for you and protect you.

but he just couldn’t protect you from this. from him.

“stop blamin yourself.” you manage to get out, looking over your shoulder at him. he looks confused, you had been silent the whole car ride and he was sure how you know his thoughts without him verbally telling you.

“what?” he questioned.

“you’re blaming yourself for this” you stated, followed by a drawn-out sigh and looking back towards the window. “you always do it when something happens. you couldn’t have known he’d do this.” you hear him sigh, but it was a long drawn one. “i should’ve thought. i was there, i was on tour. i could’ve stopped him. i just..” you hear the frustration in his voice and it makes you feel so small.

“ash..” you trail off but he interjects, “no, y/n!” he punches the steering wheel, “i had all the opportunity to stop him if i had just known he..that he’d do that to you i wouldn’t have let him do it.” his voice breaks, a lump getting caught in his throat.

“stop it, ashton.” you sit up in the passenger seat, now facing him. “i..” you breathe, feeling that lump in your own throat now. “it isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known.” you drop your head into your hands. tears want to fall but you had cried out everything in your body. “he’s… he's always been this way. i should’ve known better than to trust him being gone for most of the year.”

you watched as his knuckles turned white, gripping the steering wheel. ashton shook his head, “no..it just isn’t fair to you.” he was beyond mad, he was furious. he’s pissed that his best friend, or who he thought was, would do something like that to someone as precious as you were. “i know, ash. but there’s nothing we can do now. it’s done.”

calum loved you. at least, he thought he did. he bought you a ring, thinking it was the right call. he loves your laugh in the middle of the night when he made a stupid joke, he loves how much you admired his work and supported him.

he loved how you looked when you went out to a party. how you’d dress up for him. but deep down he wasn’t in love with you. deep down he knew his heart belonged to someone else.

his distance began to become noticeable after a couple of months. it seemed he had already checked himself out of the relationship a while ago. you were left self-conscious wondering why he didn’t love you anymore, or why he abandoned you, mentally.

you knew something was going on with him, but you never thought it would be something that would ruin your relationship or what the two of you had planned.

you weren’t expecting the call from your best friend, brandy, to call you one morning saying she was sorry you had to find out like this.

you looked at the link she sent you which had detailed photos of your fiancé and another woman, spotted many times.

in that moment, everything fell into place. his absence, how he suddenly didn’t treat you like his partner anymore. it was because he was seeing someone behind your back, actively.

“cal?” you speak up, walking outside to the patio where he sat smoking a cigarette.

“hm?” he hums, looking up from his phone eyebrows slightly raised.

“what’s this?” you question as you shove your phone into his face.

he takes a moment to examine the pictures and you see the look of realization and relief wash over his face. “well?” you interrogated.

“who told you?”

you blink, laughing dryly. “brandy just called me”

“oh.” he answers, then falling silent and goes back to his phone.

“‘oh’? is that really all you have to say?” you ask, turning your phone off and stuffing it into your pocket.

“what do you want me to say?” he asks, not bothering to look at you.

“that’s it i’m leaving.” you say, walking back inside from the patio

he’s silent, staring at his cigarette. “where are you going?”

“anywhere but here. i’ll call ashton.”

he scoffs, taking a long drag of the cigarette and blowing the smoke from his lips. “it’s always ashton” he says under his breath.

you soon around and stare blankly at him, “what?” unable to even come up with the right words.

calum looks at you with cold eyes, “it’s always ashton. you’re always by his side or he’s always by yours.” he dunks the cigarette in the ashtray putting it out. “pretty sure you were screwing him behind my back”

you dryly laugh, “i gave you my life calum hood, and you ruined it. i trusted you with everything in me because that’s what a good fiancée does. she trusts her partner to not cheat on her while he’s on tour!”

he laughs dryly running his hand over his head. “just tell me, cal” you’re mindlessly throwing stuff into your suitcase. “tell me why is it so hard for you to love me back? why won’t you love me? i’ve given you everything.”

“i never asked you to give me everything.” he’s looking away from you, sighing heavily. “it’s not that i don’t love you. i can’t love you”

you stare at him blankly, mascara staining your cheeks. you felt like your heart had been ripped out, looking at the man you thought you had loved. the man you wanted to give everything to. “what?” you blink, and he finally looks up at you. “i can’t love you, because i love her. she’s the one i want to be with. it’s always been her, y/n….” he pauses,“i tried loving you. but you just aren’t her.”

you cover your mouth, in shock. unable to comprehend his words which struck you like a knife. “i can’t believe you..” you muttered through your tears as your turned around and began your way upstairs to the bedroom.

you can feel him following you a few steps behind, his eyes linger on your figure as you mindlessly threw clothes into your duffle bag. just enough to do you for a couple nights until you can get the rest of your stuff. “they warned me about you..and i should’ve listened” you say, not bothering to look at him.

“who?” he asks coldly. you turn around, meeting his dark eyes staring into your soul. “everyone. luke…ashton…your sister…mike..everyone.” you say, closing the duffel bag. “just don’t even worry about it now. we’re done.”

you grab the bag and begin walking past him. but, you pause looking down at your hand where the ring lays. you turn around and throw it at him. “i never want to see you again.”

he watched as you proceeded down the stairs where you exited the house. finding ashton waiting in the driveway.

ashton watched as you sat on the sofa, brows furrowed while staring at your empty ring finger. “it’s late” he says, coming up behind you. you just shrug, “can’t sleep” you hear him sigh and he walks around the sofa to take a seat next to you. you see him peer around, brushing your hair from your face. “talk to me..” he whispers.

you finally look up at him showing the makeup staining your face. “i don’t know what to say..” you croak.

he nods, “i have the guest bedroom ready for you, the bathroom is set with towels and-“ he starts but you cut him off, the pain in your chest is too great. the excruciating pain you felt every time your heart pumped made you want to throw something, you felt like your whole world was crumbling.

“i can’t be alone” you shake your head looking at him, “i..i can’t. i’m gonna go crazy..” he nods, hushing your cries. “shh, it’s okay..shh..” he pulls you in and holds you close to him. “just breathe.”

he holds you for as long as you need, his heart aches at each broken sob you let out. he holds you as tight as he can he can’t stand to see you like this.

ashton loves you. it is so easy for him to love you that it frightens him. he’s never been good at anything. but hes never wanted anything so much as he wants to hold you every waking minute. he’s at home when you’re around, he feels himself falling more and more in love with you.

ashton knows it’s wrong, he knows he shouldn’t feel this way when you’re in so much pain. he knows it’s selfish to think of himself as a savior. but he knows he isn’t.

you’re suffering and all he can think about is how much he loves you.

“cmon, we need to get you ready for bed..” he says into your hair, quietly. you nod and let him help you off the chair into the master bathroom. he sits you on the toilet as he gets you some extra clothes and towels. you sit there emotionless and when ashton returns he looks down at you, reaching for a rag, baby wipe, or something to take your makeup off with.

he succeeds, finding some makeup removers and then bends down to your level. “can i?” he asks and you nod. he nods back, opens the package takes out a wipe, and begins cleaning off your day-old makeup. you say nothing and he says nothing. just carefully removing the makeup with his gentle touch. he thought that even though you are exhausted, in pain, and very miserable you still look so beautiful.

“i’ll run the water now, i’ll leave you to get cleaned up,” he says as he stands up throwing away the used makeup remover towelette. you nod, watching as he turns the water on and connects the shower head. “if you need anything, i’ll be right outside.” he smiles, closing the door behind him.

you didn’t know how long you were sitting there, you don’t even remember undressing and stepping into the shower.

you were probably in there for close to an hour, just standing there but ashton waited for you. he occupied himself with his phone but it didn’t do much considering he was so worried for you.

when he heard the door unlock and open, his eyes shot up from the phone screen and landed on you.

you had looked so defeated, your hair was still damp and dripping on some of the clothes he had given you.

“feel better?”

you shrug, walking over and plopping down next to him on the bed. “i don’t know..” you answer just above a whisper. he nods, sighing as he stands up from the bed. “well, i’ll let you be. i’ll be across the hall-“

you cut him off, “no” you look up at him. “please, just stay. like old times.” he looks hesitant but ashton walks back over to the bed and crawls back on the bed. “of course” he says softly.

“i’d never leave you”

you continued to stay with ashton for the next few months, even though you were searching for an apartment he still insisted on having you stay. one, because he loved your company and he had just gotten so used to you being around.

he watched you heal, he helped you heal and honestly, you just weren’t ready to be alone just yet. so, he let you stay for as long as you wanted.

life had slowly begun to improve, ashton kept you afloat and made sure you were safe. he didn’t let you go one day without making sure you were doing something to occupy your mind, so you don’t slip into your mind.

often times you were sat next to ashton in the studio as you occasionally help him write songs the guys had started. you didn’t have the talents like the other four, but ashton would ask your opinion and even using some of your ideas.

you sat bored on your phone, eventually dropping it to your lap as you stare at ashton’s back as he was humming melodies to himself. you stare at all of the papers sprawled out on the table and floor, your brows furrowed reading some scribbles that were supposed to be lyrics. your eyes land on a piece of paper with the lyrics, We're together, all alone tonight So helpless from the other side So why won't you love me?

you feel tightness in your chest, your eyes gloss over with tears. all the memories of you and calum flood back and you. you drop the paper and ashton hears your sniffles and he looks up.

he’s met with your swollen and puffy eyes, “y/n?” you look up at him, and break down. broken sobs filled the studio as he rushes to your side “what is it?” he asks wrapping his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest. “why won’t he love me?” you say, followed by a loud sob stuck in your throat. “why couldn’t he love me?”

you continue to ramble incoherent sobs and ashton tries his best to soothe you. but, he knows he can’t fix everything.

you deserve so much better, even if ashton isn’t what you need. he will always love you. as he’s rubbing your back, hearing your broken sobs he feels heartbroken and helpless.

“i love you..” he says quietly into your hair.

“i love you too, ash” you say, sniffling.

ashton falls silent for a moment before sighing. “no, y/n. listen to me” he pulls you away from his chest, his hands on either side of your face as his thumbs while away your tears. “i love you” he’s looking into your eyes now, and you don’t know how to take what he’s telling you.

“i’m not asking you to love me more than just your friend, but you need to know that i do love you. you’ve been the only constant in my life, y/n. you deserve the best, even if it isn’t me. i’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to, but you need to know.”

ashton knew it was wrong of him to drop the ball on your so suddenly, after calling it off with calum just a few months ago. ashton was sure you probably would hate him after this but he needed to get it off his chest or else he might explode.

“ash..” you sigh, your eyes close and had only hoped that this was some kind of joke, because if he had told you before getting serious with calum, you feel even more crushed hearing the confession spill from your best friends lips.

“im sorry. i really am, and i know you don’t want another relationship but i will always wait for you..” ashton follows, still looking into your eyes.

you fall silent for a moment, admiring his hazel eyes while your heart continues to ache with each beat.

“y/n?” you don’t answer, you just sigh as you shake your head. “just.. just hold me ashton. please.”

ashton pulls you in, letting your head rest against his shoulder and his finger draws circles on your back. you close your eyes, your mind is racing and you just want to turn it off.

“im sorry, y/n..” ashton’s says quietly.

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

I Still Get Jealous

Pairing: Nick Jackson x wife!reader

Category: Fluff/Light Angst

Word count: 4,023

Summary: When a wrestler has a crush on you, your husband makes sure to show you extra affection when the other man is in the room.

Warnings: Swearing

Requested by: rihannaproctor14 on Wattpad

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner.

This was, what felt like the tenth time today, that your husband gave you kisses all over your face. Normally, you didn't mind but this was getting a bit too much.

You had no idea what was making Nick spontaneously show you all this extra affection, you loved it but you also didn’t like the looks some people were giving you.

You worked in the wardrobe department and had a hand in the merch shirts that went up on the website.

Brandi was the one who found out about you several years back after seeing some of your work floating around Ring of Honor. She was impressed with your creativity and showed Cody, Kenny, Matt, and Nick how talented you were. The men agreed, knowing they would definitely need someone with your creativity and skill set when AEW got up and running so they had Brandi contact you with an offer — clearly you accepted and, as they say, the rest is history.

Over the years, you got to know the EVPs well — Nick in particular. The two of you hit it off immediately, like you had known each other your whole lives. About four months later, Nick asked you to be his girlfriend and two years later, you were Mrs. Nick Jackson.

You were currently working on a new shirt design for Top Flight. You had just finished it and wanted to get the Martin brother’s opinions.

You headed out of the wardrobe room and down the hall towards the locker rooms. You were too excited about this design to notice The Elite just up ahead and the boys were too caught up in their conversation about who knows what to see you coming. You collided with one of them and thankfully he kept you from falling. “Sorry! I just—” You started to apologize when you looked up seeing it was none other than your husband you ran into. You chuckled, shaking your head. “Thanks for catching me babe.” You stood on your tip toes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Where are you in a hurry to?” Nick asked, until he noticed your iPad in your hands. “You got a new design for us?” He tried to sneak a peak at your iPad.

You shook your head, grinning. “Nope, not today. I have something I need Dante and Darius to look at. If they like it, it just might be their new shirt design.” You beamed, proud of your work. You flipped your iPad around and showed off the design to the guys. “What do you think?” You asked, genuinely wanting their opinions.

Nick tensed up at the mention of the older Martin brother’s name. He did his best to play it cool so no one would catch him and try to put the pieces together.

Matt, Kenny, and Brandon loved the design. They all told you how good you did and joked that you should make theirs look ten times better. The four of you laughed and that’s when you noticed Nick was being awfully quiet.

You looked over at him and noticed his jaw clenched and that he was off in his own world. You weren’t sure what caused this reaction but you were going to find out.

You subtly tugged on Nick’s arm in attempts to get his attention. After a particularly hard tug, he snapped out of his thoughts. “You okay Nick?” He knew were concerned when you called him Nick. You always called him some cute nickname, even when you called him Nicholas he knew you were teasing him unless you were upset with him.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Yeah. I’m okay sweetheart.” Nick placed a kiss to your temple. You weren’t fully convinced but let it be as you gave him a soft kiss to his lips, rubbing his cheek with your thumb.

You hated to leave Nick like this but you had to go find Top Flight before the show started. “I gotta get going guys. I’ll catch you later!” You exclaimed as you hurried off down the hall.

You finally made your way to the men’s locker room. Luckily, you caught Ricky about to enter the locker room. “Hey Ricky! Can you do me a favor and tell Dante and Darius I want to show them a design for their shirt?” You asked, the always well dressed man.

Ricky agreed and shortly after out came the Martin brothers. “Ricky said you wanted to see us about a shirt design.” Dante said, glancing at your iPad in your arms. “You have one done already? We weren’t expecting one until next week.” The younger of the two looks at you, impressed you were so quick.

“Yeah I know but I got this idea the other day and I just had to get drawn up. Nick wasn’t too thrilled because I didn’t get in the bed until one in the morning that night.” You shrugged. You couldn’t help but notice Darius was being quiet, much like how Nick was earlier. Thankfully, Darius didn’t look stone-faced like Nick had. “You wanna see it?” You eyed each brother and they both nodded, Dante more excited than Darius.

You flipped your iPad around and passed it over to Dante. You gave the two boys a chance to look it over. You saw how they lit up as they took in your art work. “This is so damn good! A lot better than what we had pictured, right Darius?” Dante nudged his brother and Darius subtly shook his head.

You observed Darius a few moments longer before he finally spoke. You couldn’t help but get the feeling something had him distracted — little did you know you were the distraction.

“What? Oh yeah, yeah. It’s a million times better than our shitty idea.” Darius finally answered. You raised an eyebrow at Darius’s behavior, but didn’t question him. You figured he was thinking about their tag match later on with The Elite.

You had a busy couple hours ahead of you so told the guys you would have a shirt ready for them to look at in the next few days and politely excused yourself.

Back at your station in the wardrobe room, you got to work putting together an outfit for Renee when you heard a light knock on the door. You turned around to find your husband standing there admiring you working away. “Hey handsome. Finally going to let me style you for once?” You teased, smiling and knowing he and Matt actually enjoyed dressing in those wild clothes. You slid your arms around his neck once he was in front you. “Gimme a kiss. I’ve been missing those lips.” You grinned. Nick didn’t have to be told twice as he leaned down and kissed you with intensity that you weren’t quite expecting given that you were at work, but you were not about to complain but rather return the intense kiss.

You the two of you were too caught up in your own little world to realize that Darius had stopped at the door to ask you a question about his outfit for a backstage segment next week.

Darius knew his crush on you wouldn’t and couldn’t go any further than a crush, you were a married woman for heaven sakes! He would never try to ruin anyone’s relationship or marriage just because of a crush. He still held out hope that his crush on you would fade and he would move on to someone else but this crush had been going strong for months now. He was thankful that only Dante knew about it. Little did Darius know, Nick had learned about the crush a couple days ago.

Nick had over heard the Martin brothers chatting quietly in catering as he passed by their table but froze when he heard your name leave the older Martin’s lips. He took a seat at the nearest table within earshot, eavesdropping on the conversation. His initial reason was to make sure that the young boys weren’t bad mouthing you because no one bad mouthed Nick Jackson’s wife without confrontation.

The more Nick listened the more he put the hushed whispers together — Darius Martin had a crush on you. Nick felt a few different emotions run through him — pride, anger, and jealousy.

Nick knew it was silly to let Darius’s little crush get him all worked up but he couldn’t help it. Nick was very protective of you and even though you married him and live the happiest life possible together, he still got jealous when guys would look at you a little too long or attempt to flirt with you despite you always telling the guy that you were happily married.

Darius decided against making his presence known to the pair of you and slinked away back to the locker room to prep for his match.

As the show started, you had people running in and out of your station for various reasons.

Currently you were making quick work of sowing up a rip on the bottom of Britt Baker’s pants. You listened as Britt, Rebel, and Jamie talked about their upcoming segment that would take place out in the ring.

Once the trio left, you were all alone so you decided to do some more work on some designs. You figured that since you had Top Flight’s design ready to go that you would work on something new for Hook.

As you got to work you soon realized some of the things you needed had gotten put on the top shelf next to the small table you were working at. You sighed and got up, taking the four steps to the shelves on the wall. You looked up and sure enough, there it was — the box you needed containing an assortment of materials necessary for your project.

You stood on your tip toes, stretching to reach the box on the top shelf in the room that the wardrobe department was set up in. You didn’t know who put that box up there but you were internally cursing them. You could just barely get your fingertips on it. Looking around you spotted a chair, one without wheels on the bottom. You crossed the short distance of the room to grab the chair, once you had it where you needed you climbed up and started to grab the box when the door opened. “Hey wait! Let me get it for you.” You heard the familiar voice of Darius Martin, his footsteps grew louder as he got closer to you. He offered you his hand and helped you down off the chair.

“Thanks Darius.” You were grateful he showed up when he did, turns out that box was heavier than you had thought by the sound the box made when Darius sat it down on the nearby table. “Thanks again. I’m not sure what I would have done when I found out the box was that heavy.” You state.

“It’s no problem. I’m always happy to help you.” Darius spoke, looking everywhere but at you in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that you made him feel nervous, plus he could feel the heat rush upon his cheeks.

You noticed how Darius didn't look you in the eye and you remembered how earlier he seemed off in his own little world. You’ve never really worked with him too much before the last four months, so you weren’t sure if this was just how he was or if something was going on. It couldn’t hurt to ask.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could, Nick swiftly entered the room. Nick kept a watchful eye on Darius as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. When Nick moved back just a little you saw Darius’s expression, a crestfallen look on his face. You were trying to put the pieces together about Darius’s behavior but at the moment you were confused.

“You’ll come watch me tonight right? I can’t win without my lucky charm.” Nick grinned at you accompanied by a wink. You couldn’t help but smile at his little flirty ways.

“Of course I’ll be there, but first I have some work I need to get done.” You informed him, gesturing to the table of your scattered papers and the box Darius helped retrieve for you moments ago.

“Can’t you do that later baby? I miss you.” Nick pouts in attempts to guilt trip you.

You shake your head and usher him out of the room. As you do so, Nick grabbed Darius’s arm and pulled him out the door with him. You noticed what Nick had done but didn’t think too much of it.

Once outside in the hallway, Nick kept his hand on Darius’s arm as he spoke to the young man. “I know about your little crush on my wife.” Nick watched as the color drained from Darius’s face.

The oldest Martin was in shock. How did he know? He was sure he never said anything about it when others were around. He could have sworn Dante was the only one that knew. He tried thinking back to all times recently talked about you to his brother and that’s when it hit him — that day in catering a couple days ago. Darius realized he and his brother must not have seen Nick walking past them and overhearing the conversation. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right. Look, you’re a good kid and what I heard you say about her wasn’t disrespectful so I’ll go easy on you tonight.” Nick spoke in low, serious tone.

Darius gulped and nodded, he hadn’t seen Nick this serious before and he didn’t want to see it again. “I- I just-” Darius paused, collecting his thoughts before speaking again. “I feel terrible about having a crush on a married woman. I swear I would never do anything to ruin anyone’s marriage.” Darius looked Nick in the eyes, sincerity written on the young man’s face.

Nick looked the older Martin’s face over, no trace of deceit was found. Nick nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Just know if I catch you thinking anything bad or inappropriate about my wife, I’ll do more than confront you.” Darius knew what Nick was implying and nodded, quickly turning and heading towards catering.

You had spent majority of the show in wardrobe working on your designs for new merch shirts as well as piecing together outfits for upcoming interviews and segments up until you heard a soft knock on the door. “It’s almost time for my match sweetheart. You said you’d be there to watch.” Your husband reminds you as he makes his way across the room and over to you.

He knows how you can get caught up on creating different things and forget what you had to do later or forget to eat or drink until he comes along to remind you, bringing you some water and a snack. You were always appreciative and grateful to have Nick looking out for you, especially when you got zoned in to your work.

“Oh, shit. You’re right. Just let me finish this—” You felt your husbands strong yet gentle hands wrap around your wrists to stop you. You obeyed his silent command and dropped your pen and materials on the table, letting Nick gently pull you up and away from the table.

You noticed he was dressed in his gear, no doubt about to head to the stage entrance with Matt, Kenny, and Brandon. Speaking of, you didn’t see or hear them. “Come on. Let’s get you to the best seat in the house.”

You gave Nick a questioning look, eyebrow raised in confusion. “I thought I was going to watch on the monitor like usual?”

“Yeah, but I had a better idea — you get a front row seat. Security will escort you out there.” Nick pressed his lips to your temple and slipped his hand in yours. “We better get going.”

Like Nick said, security escorted you to your front row seat. From there, you watched the current match come to a close and soon after Top Flight and AR Fox made their entrance. You cheered for the trio, they were your friends after all. You saw the look of shock mixed with confusion on Darius’s face as he spotted you amongst the front row crowd. You gave him a friendly wave as passed by to slip into the ring. So many questions ran through the young man’s head. What’s going on? Was Nick planning something by having you out here? Is this some kind of mind game?

As soon as the lights went down and Carry On, Wayward Son blared through the speakers around the arena, you jumped up out of your chair, cheering loudly for not just your husband but your brother-in-law and best friends. The Elite did their pose at the top of the stage as Brandon hyped them up. Once they made their way down to the ring, Nick stopped in front of you to place a big smooch on your lips after making sure Darius was looking.

The match began and you cheered for all of them, but clearly the loudest for Nick. You couldn’t help but observe Nick being a little harsher on Darius, you thought that maybe Nick just didn’t realize how rough he was being, it didn’t look like Darius was hurt so you let it slide.

At one point when the pace and urgency had picked up, Nick had thrown Darius over the ropes and onto the floor in front of you. Nick launched himself over the top rope, diving onto Darius and popping up full of adrenaline. Nick quickly and swiftly kissed your cheek before going back to work on Darius while Kenny had AR Fox in the ring and Matt dove onto Dante on the opposite side of the ring form you.

It wasn’t long after that until Kenny pinned AR Fox, thus The Elite retaining their trios titles. You cheered, beyond proud of those men and thrilled with their performance.

Kenny closed the show out with a little speech like he sometimes does and in the meantime, Nick had passed his title over to Matt as Nick exited the ring, stopping in front of you once more. He leaned over the barricade to make sure you could hear him over Kenny and the crowd. “Wanna come up there with me?”

You felt like a fangirl that had been singled out by her favorite celebrity. You always found it sweet that despite after all these years, Nick could still make you feel like a teenager with the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

You nodded, grinning from ear to ear. That’s all Nick needed before effortlessly lifting you over the barricade and helping you into the ring, parting the ropes for you. Nick was always such a sweet gentleman — well, until he was having his way with you.

When the show was officially over, you followed behind The Elite with Brandon until Nick fell in step with you and slung his arm over your shoulders. He was obviously sweaty but honestly you didn’t mind because that meant shower time with your husband.

After gathering up your belongings, you headed to catering for a snack and some water before heading to the hotel. It was surprisingly quiet in catering, only you and some of the arena’s staff. As you picked out your snack, you heard footsteps as someone entered the room.

You looked up seeing Darius standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the floor. “Hey Darius!” You beamed, you always enjoyed his company. “You did great out there! Don’t tell the guys, but I think if you, Dante, and AR keep at it, those trios belts could be going home with you one day.” You said, half teasing and half being honest.

Darius forced a smile at your words, just another thing he liked about you. “Thanks.” He took a deep breathe which grabbed your attention. You stopped filling your plate with fruit and turned to face the young man, giving him your full attention. “I need to tell you something.” He finally spoke before he lost the courage.

You nodded, gesturing for him to continue. You could tell this was weighing on his mind and he needed to say it before it ate him up.

“I— I have a crush on you.” Darius couldn’t look at you when he confessed, too embarrassed and ashamed of himself for having a crush on a married woman. “I promise I wont try to ruin what you and Nick have. I just had to tell you, it’s been going on for a couple of months. I thought it would go away but no such luck.” He hung his head in shame and guilt.

“Hey, don’t feel bad about it. It might sound weird but I’m actually flattered. I’ve gotten a good idea over the past several months of what kind of man you are and I know you wouldn’t do anything intentionally. It can stay between us if that makes you feel any better.” You offered, remembering how you felt having been in similar shoes as Darius.

“I already know.” You both jumped at hearing Nick’s voice. Nick had come looking for you when you took longer than usual to grab a snack and water. He had slipped in when Darius was confessing his crush on you.

You looked between the two men, processing and putting the pieces together.

That’s when everything clicked. Nick’s reaction when you mentioned Darius’s name earlier, Darius’s behavior when you showed him and Dante this shirt design, the way Nick would always kiss you whenever Darius was around, the way Darius got shy when helped you with that box earlier, why Nick wanted you to sit front row for the trios match.

“Oh. Well, then I suppose we’re all good?” You questioned the two men. You didn’t want any tension between them, especially because if you.

“Yeah, we’re good, right?” Darius looked a Nick a little unsure given that Nick didn’t go as easy on him as said he would, but then again maybe he did, he wasn’t sure.

Nick nodded. “Yeah, we’re good man. Just remember what I said earlier.” Nick warns, referring to their conversation in the hallway prior to their match.

You were confused on what this conversation was about and you were going ask Nick later. You didn’t like the idea of Nick threatening the poor boy.

“I’ll never forget it, trust me.” Darius grabbed a water and headed out the door.

“Alright spill. This conversation you two had, you didn’t threaten him did you?” You asked, turning to your husband with a hand on your hip. You knew how protective Nick was, and you remembered a couple fights he got into because of a comment that was made about you, despite your protests and wanting him to let it go.

“Oh, come on sweetheart, do you really think I’d threaten him?” Nick asked, eyebrow raised and pretending to be clueless.

“Absolutely. But you know what, as long as you let him be, I’ll let it slide.” You lean up and peck his lips before stepping back and picking up your plate of fruit and water. “I’m ready to go to bed.”

“It’ll be a minute before that happens.” Nick tells you with a mischievous look in his eye causing you to give him a look. “I may or may not have stolen one of Matt’s shoes.” He grins, lifting up Matt’s shoe from behind his back.

You both laugh and take a seat at the nearest table. You knew this would last for at least an hour before Nick returned Matt’s shoe.

“I love you, babe. Don’t ever change.” You chuckled, reaching over and feeding him a piece of fruit.

“I love you way more, sweetheart.” The love and admiration was evident in his eyes as he leaned over the table for a one more kiss.

General Taglist: @legit9thlunaticwarrior @plentyoffandoms @1dluver13xx @sunshinevirus @wwenhlimagines @crowleysqueenofhell @jackson-nickthedate13

Nick Jackson Taglist: @mrsmatt @abbyjacksonnn @breezyvk @rubyred1980

[superego-imagines]

Hi there. I have a writing request, if you have time. Specifically for Norman/Otto from the Spiderman PS game. They have *history* and I'd love a ficlet of the time their relationship disintegrated over ethics and they break-up (with a lot of feelings still left on both sides). Angst really isn't my strong suit so perhaps you can provide?

Settling - Octogoblin Angst - 2.4K words

((Thank you so much for this request! Those two are my favorite Divorced Couple and I love the PS4 version of them. There’s so many layers and so much history to their relationship. Neither of them is a perfect person and they bring out the worst in each other. I love angst and arguments so this was really fun lol. I hope you enjoy it!

Dr. Octavius’s chest shuddered as he tried to steady his breathing. His hands folded over each other as he hung his head as low as possible. As if he just curled up far enough he’d be able to disappear entirely. God what he wouldn’t give to just disappear. Any time he closed his eyes, the afterburn of the light reminded him of the fluorescent blood splatters that had coated nearly the entire lab. And the screams…he didn’t need to speak the language to understand the terror in their voices. He should have done something. But he couldn’t have done anything, Norman had stopped him. He knew the man was desperate but he never thought he’d do something so stupid.

“You look like you could use a drink.” An uncharacteristically-soft but still familiar voice came from behind him. Otto flinched away from the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t heard the man come in, too lost in thought to really register anything around him. Norman leaned against the work-desk across from where Otto was sitting. A brandy decatur rested on the table beside him, the time for drinking from glasses clearly having passed. He took a sip and fruitlessly tried to smooth back where his hair was beginning to frizz out. “We won by the way. No thanks to you.”

“Won?”

“Of course we won. Kid’s public defender couldn’t even be bothered to pay for a translator. If anything the settlement was more generous than it needed to be. If he plays his cards right he should be set for life.”

“He’s an orphan, Norman. No amount of money changes that.”

“And I suppose that’s my fault too? How could I have possibly predicted that he would turn into- that he would become- whatever that was.”

“But you didn’t know! That’s the whole point!” Otto stood up and closed the distance between them, “You didn’t know what the virus would do, but you did it anyway! How many times did I tell you it wasn’t ready? If you had just listened-!”

“If I had listened to you the boy would be dead. With us having spent years fussing over every little detail before even testing the damn thing. He didn’t have time to wait.”

“You mean you didn’t have time to wait.”

Norman’s face dropped from its dismissive annoyance into an utterly expressionless mask. Otto hated that face. Even Norman’s anger was better than when he wasn’t Norman at all. “What do you mean by that?” His tone is flat but as cold and caustic as solid CO2.

“I know this is about Emily.”

“Oh? Is it? Is there something about me attempting to cure my dying wife that you find unacceptable?”

“Norman- Arrgh! You’re twisting my words. I hate when you do this! You know that’s not-”

“I should have known that’s what this was about.” Norman chuckled but there wasn’t a trace of humor in it, “Christ, you’re pathetic. Anyone ever tell you, you get real cruel when you’re feeling sorry for yourself?”

Otto’s hands tightened into fists at his side as he let out a shuddery breath. Norman was just deflecting. He was just saying whatever he could think of to make him upset, that way he wouldn’t have to actually defend his actions. “This isn’t about her.”

“You can’t even say her name can you?”

Otto raised his voice, trying to speak over him, ignoring the jab, “This is about you being reckless-”

“No Otto. You brought her up. You made it about Emily. So let's talk about Emily. I was very honest with you from the beginning about what I needed and what I could and couldn’t do. You promised me you wouldn’t do this.”

“I know. I know what I said. I know I can’t…” Can’t give him a family. Can never be his husband. “Give you what you want.” He understood that. Really, he did. When Norman and him first started this, whatever this was, nearly a decade ago, he had understood it would have to come to an end. They’d never be able to make a name for themselves if they couldn’t at least pretend to be straight. He’d even understood when Norman had suggested staying together in secret while they both pursued other relationships that could provide them cover or in Norman’s case, a chance at fatherhood. He’d understood that and hadn’t minded all the sneaking around and playing the best friend. And he could have lived his whole life like that, if it was just a cover. But it wasn’t. Norman had gone and fallen in love with her.

And the worst part is, he couldn’t even hate her for it. She was too much of a damned saint. He couldn’t blame Norman for falling in love with her, in another life, he might have too. She was brilliant, there was no denying that, and maybe even more admirably, she was passionate. She was always thinking of new ways to heal the world. Not only as a scientist but as a humanitarian. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of Norman when they’d first met. Back when O’scorp was going to bring humanity into the future, before the company had swallowed him whole. She was perfect and he’s just…familiar. Nostalgic maybe. A habit Norman can’t quit.

“You are what I want. Damn it Otto!” He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face before closing the distance. He rested his hands on the others shoulders, as if doing so would force him to stay but still unwilling to pull him any closer. “I care about you, and I want you in my life. But I also have a family to consider. I love all of you, and I don’t want to lose her or you. You have to understand the position I’m in.”

“I understand…” Otto swallowed the lump in his throat. He understood perfectly.

Norman sighed in relief, “Thank you. I just don’t know what I’ll do if she…”

“She’s not going to die. That I’m sure of.” He pulled away from Norman’s hands in order to put his own on his shoulders. “You have some of the greatest minds in the world working here. I know you’ll manage to find a cure.”

“We’ll find a cure.”

“No…” Otto steeled every nerve in his body screaming at him to stop. To think about what he was doing. To think about what he was throwing away. He couldn’t say no to Norman. He never said no to Norman. He needed to stop before he said something he couldn’t take back. Stop. Stop. STOP. But no. He couldn’t stop. He’d made up his mind when he’d heard the boy wailing for the mother and father that were splattered across his face. “No. You’ll find a cure. I’m leaving the company.”

“What?” Norman wrenched away from him, “You can’t leave. Why would you leave? Is this about Emily?”

“I already told you. This isn’t about her. This is about your complete disregard for any sort of procedure. You went behind my back to do the first human trial of a medical procedure that wasn’t even approved for animals. The fact that you would do something so monumentally stupid and selfish and reckless and…and…” He could forgive a lot of things. He could forgive the cruelty and the ego and all the little ways that Norman drove him absolutely insane. But at the end of the day- “I just can’t trust you anymore. I don’t like where you’re taking O’scorp, and I won’t have my name dragged down with it.”

Norman reached out to him again but he stepped back, maintaining a distance, “You’re one of our lead scientists. Even if you hate me, think of what it would do to the company. Your talent would be wasted anywhere else, and our grants would be wasted on anyone other than you.”

Pins pricked at Otto’s chest and at the corners of his eyes. Of course he’d have to threaten to leave before Norman would dole out a scrap of validation. He couldn’t deny it had an effect on him. The part of him that was still a scholarship student, craving the praise and attention of his peer despite hating him for being everything he wasn't, called out to him, begged him to reconsider. That he needed this. Needed Norman. That without him he was nothing. Well, they’d have to see about that, but he’d be less than nothing if he stayed. “I can’t be a part of this…Whatever this company is becoming. I want to help people. I wanted to fix the world with you. But you only care about yourself.”

A flash of genuine hurt crossed his features, “Do you really think so low of me?”

“I…” Yes? No. Maybe? “I have to go.”

Norman pulled away from him, straightening up as his face dropped into one of cold indifference, “Fine. But understand if this is what you want, you’ll be doing this on your own. You’ll have to find a new source of funding.”

Otto rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“Alright. I’ll schedule a time for you to meet with the legal team to discuss your settlement. All further communication will be going through the company’s legal team and a representative of your choosing.”

“What settlement?”

Otto could make out the slightest twitch of a smile before Norman quickly turned away, “Don’t worry, Dr. Octavius. You will be compensated for your time and effort on Oscorp’s projects. In exchange you will turn over all current research and prototypes to the company, with the understanding that any and all use of previous studies or patented prototypes would be in violation of the non-compete clause in your contract.”

“What? What are you talking about? That’s my research!”

“It’s Oscorp’s research. Gained from studies conducted by you but under Oscorp’s roof, with Oscorp funds, with Oscorp technology, with test subjects compensated by Oscorp.” He looked at Otto and this time he couldn’t hide the slight smirk, “You’re a smart man Otto, do I really need to keep going?”

“You…You can’t do this!” All his work…Years of his life that he’d dedicated to this company. It would be like it never happened. So much time wasted. He knew it would be difficult to start over, but to have to abandon everything he’d been working on. It would set him back years, maybe even decades if he couldn’t find another sponsor. Would he even be able to work in the same field? He hadn’t even looked into the extent of any non-compete clauses. It hadn’t mattered because this company was supposed to be his. He and Norman had built it together. It was supposed to be their legacy. “This company is as much mine as it is yours! I have a right to my own research! I’ll sue you!”

“You’ll lose, Octavius. Just like always~ You think you know the law better than my people? Be smart and take the settlement.”

The faux sympathy in his tone strummed at Otto’s raw nerves. He’d seen this monster before, but it had never been directed at him. He knew there was only one way this story ended. “And what if I go to the press?”

“And tell them what? That you signed a perfectly legal contract that only now isn’t fair? Or maybe you intend to break an iron-clad NDA in which case you and anyone who reports what you say will be slapped with a lawsuit so fast your heads will spin.” Norman stepped into his space again and Otto fought the urge to back away. He cringed at the glint of mania in the eyes of the man he thought was his best friend, wincing as he punctuated his sentences with a poke to the chest. “You’ve never had what it takes to run this business. It’s always been mine. While you wasted my time and money with your little projects, I’ve been the one keeping the lights on. I was the one going to the meetings and talking to the investors you considered yourself above. I was the one who put up the funds to build this company and it’s my name on every piece of paperwork because you couldn’t be bothered to properly patent anything. I was the one who insisted you were a good candidate for any project you’ve ever gotten the privilege of working on. And I was the one who gave you a way out from your destiny of utter anonymity and you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for if you think I can’t put you right back.”

Otto wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt him. His mind ran a thousand miles a minute with the things he wanted to say. Every little insecurity. Everything Norman had ever dared be vulnerable about, which admittedly wasn’t much. He wanted to dig a needle inside him so precisely that no matter what he did, he wouldn’t ever be able to claw it out. He could swear his ears were ringing and he’d never hated anyone more than he did in this moment. Well, maybe. He could swear, just barely audible over the pounding of his heart, he could hear his mother's cruel snarl. Look what you did! This is all your fault! Why’d you have to be so mean? You’re just like him. “We’ll see about that. For the sake of professionalism, this should probably be our last meeting. I’ll go and collect my personal effects from my office and will be speaking with the legal team soon.”

He kept his head up but didn’t look towards Norman again as he collected his things and made his way towards the door. As he went to leave, a voice called out from behind him and he hated the way he almost perked up at the sound before he crashed back to reality, “You’re welcome to come crawling back anytime, O.” He didn’t even dignify him with a pause before closing the door on that chapter of his life. Starting over was hard but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to re-envision the future he planned for himself. And this time he wouldn’t let anyone else take it away.

[maniac-charmer]

Gone Away: Chapter 1

This story (and this blog) is strictly +18 minors do not interact.

Lee Know x Female reader.

Ex Best friend to lovers trope.

TW: angst

Word Count:2.5k

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

It was the year 2008, where everything smelled like Victoria`s secret perfumes and rhinestones blinging in your eyes. Everyone holding their bedazzled flip phones in their palms, texting each other and taking pictures with their digital cameras posting them on Myspace. Idolizing Paris Hilton and Britney Spears. Covering themselves with Juicy Couture, Brandy Melville, and fake Louis Vuitton bags. Everything smelled sickeningly sweet and artificial.

There you were, not exactly fitting in but covered in different colours and layer of clothing thinking it looked good, adapting to the fashion sense of the year. In your senior year in high school in your neighbourhood, in the suburbs from a high paid middle-class family. You were well of; you were able to afford anything you need but not able to afford anything luxury. 

In your high school there was different friend groups like in any other high school. Yours were just your friends. Some of them were ``cool`` but you wouldn`t say that for yourself. You were pretty much invisible, not having any issues with anyone but not having too many friends outside of your group. Your friend group consisted of 6 people. You were 3 girls and 3 boys, basically all attached at your hips, doing everything together and never spending any day without each other. You were closest with Minho or as everyone called him Lee Know, he was your best friend since you moved into the neighbourhood and for years, he was your everything. Your best friend, your family, your confidant also your neighbour. You two lived few houses away from each other, you having to walk in front of his house whenever you had to leave your street. Since he became a part of the football team in your high school, he was almost always in his garden working out or practicing in some way, which means you always run into him. Your family seeing him as their own son as well.

The rest of your friend group consisted of your friends, Sakura and Ji-min, your girl best friends and Han and Hyunjin, the other boys in the group. You were close friends with all of them, having a great friendship with them, enjoying their company and their presence during your high school years. 

Minho and Hyunjin were a part of the high school football team since their sophomore year and was really into the game itself. You tried to understand how football worked but you could not, you did attend their games regularly to support them. Han was not interested in sports, he mostly spent his time on his computer, gaming or to create music, he would always rap or sing stuff and he became one of your music and art teachers favourite student, giving him a role in any ceremony possible.

Han was very social and was friends with almost everyone in the high school, he mostly spent his time with your group and mostly Hyunjin but somehow always found time to be friends with everyone. Even sometimes against your friend groups requests. 

Lee Know was a stubborn and Mr. Know-it-all person. When he started to get annoyed with someone, no one can turn that back. If he loved you, he loved you too much and protected you at all costs. But for some reason, he did not like other boys from his team. And he was annoyed with all of them but for the most part he would complain about three particular boys. They were very close friends with each other, almost being attached from their hips. Bang Chan, Felix and Changbin. They were typical jocks but were good at heart. Never bullied anyone and would just mind their business. 

Lee Know would get annoyed whenever Han would talk about them or hang out with them, but it never stopped him. Han could be considered as the wild one in your group, and everyone knew that, even Minho, he somehow accepted that fact. 

In the start of your senior year, Han decided to celebrate his birthday in an extravagant party. He was turning 18 and he told your group that he had to go ``all in`` which you all cringed at. Lee Know did not like crowded settings and told you in confidence that he does not want to go but he will since he is a very close friend of theirs.

You grew accustomed to your group and routine. Spending your days with Minho, doing everything you can possibly think of together. You even wait for him during his practice in the library so you two could make the short walk to your neighbourhood together and spend the rest of your day together. It felt natural to be with him, effortless and right. He was everything you dreamed in a person embodied. He was extremely passionate about everything he did, he cared about you, he was thoughtful, an amazing person with a heart of gold and extremely attractive. You knew everyone in your high school had a crush on him or Hyunjin. They were too good looking for their own good. But Lee Know had a different aura, he was like a paradox. Leaving you questioning everything. 

You tried your best to not have a crush on him, you couldn`t afford to lose him. You learned how to live hiding your feelings, not make it obvious to anyone. It was the only secret you never told him, you couldn`t. You never know how he would react if you did. Would he get angry, or would he let you down gently? Although you hated not knowing things, you did not want to see how this plays out. 

You and your friend group helped Han with his party, he invited almost the whole high school, and it was going to be huge. He told your group that, since you were his best friends, you should look your best and have the best time, to set an example. You spent almost a week with the girls trying to find the best outfit and you finally settled on a sparkling silver bodycon mini dress and shoes to go with it. You felt amazing in that outfit, and you kept it a secret from everyone except the girls until the party. 

Before the party, you got ready with Ji-min and Sakura in Ji-min`s house and made it to the party with her car. When you finally were there, you saw Han and waved at him, who came running to hug you and complimented you a thousand times on how good you look. You saw Minho and Hyunjin making themselves a drink and thought about going to them, but Han dragged you next to the three boys your best friend despises the most. Felix, Bang Chan and Changbin making conversation with you making you feel like you were their friend for years and Han leaving as soon as he saw someone else, leaving you with them alone. 

You chatted with them and in a few seconds Bang Chan and Changbin disappeared to get some drinks, leaving you alone with Felix. 

Felix was attractive and nice. He complimented you and asked you for a dance, when you two made it to the dancefloor, he made you feel comfortable since he was an amazing dancer, leading you whilst dancing. You didn`t even notice Lee Know`s stares at you. You were amazed with Felix, his freckles, his cute smile, and his deep voice almost casting a spell on you, making you forget about your friend group who were also at the party. 

After a while, you decided to get some fresh air and that is where Felix kissed you. Your first kiss, under the stars, surrounded by drunk teenagers and loud music but it was perfect. He confessed that he had feelings for you for a while and asked Han to play matchmaker in this situation since you never left Minho`s side. You were oblivious but you agreed to go on a date with him and that is how your relationship started with Felix. 

Your relationship continued with the upcoming months and years. You attended your graduation prom, ceremony with Felix and your new circle that came with him. You spent more and more time with Bang Chan and Changbin as your relationship continued. Whenever you tried to hang out with your original group of friends you sensed the tension from Minho and Hyunjin. You knew that Hyunjin and Minho were close and that was the most probable reason of the tension. You felt uncomfortable and unwanted when you were with them. Feeling like they were just tolerating you for old times sake, they did not want to hang out with you. Except Han, he regularly strung along with your new friends. You had amazing time with them, they were fun to be around and protective of you like a sibling and it was easy to be with them. You choose to stay with them as well. 

Felix and your relationship were great as well, he respected you and treated you well. It was not the most exciting relationship, but it was a part of you now. You both gave each other the space you needed as well as the care. You were in a relationship, but you had a sense of self. You could explore your hobbies and new friends and focus on your education, but he would always be there when you needed him. 

The three years you spent with Felix was great, when you mentioned an opportunity for studying abroad, he encouraged you to pursue it since he knew you could be very successful. You applied and got accepted for it. You were going to continue your education in another country, far away from yours. You know that the money situation was not the best for you, you knew that you would have to find a job to stay there. You decided to give it a try anyways. Since you were living with Felix, you decided to help him find a new roommate and he found a guy from your college, he was okay, very quiet and kept to himself, but it was appreciated from Felix since he enjoyed the quite as well. 

You and Felix had a ``talk`` few days before you left about your relationship. He was honest with you, he told you he would always care about you but he couldn`t do the long-distance relationship and told you it would be best if you stayed as friends and he promised you he was not out of your life, your relationship turned into more of a friendship. You agreed, you spent three years together and it was great times, but you knew that going to the other side of the world and trying to keep the relationship was not going to be easy and it would be better for both of you if you stayed as friends. 

He took you to the airport with Han, Changbin and Bang Chan, all of them almost crying to see you go and promising you that they will keep the regular contact. You promised them as well, wishing you could promise the same for your old friends. You missed them, you saw them hanging out on social media regularly and posting it. You were first envious, but you made peace with it, some people grow apart. But it seems like you were always the one getting left out. 

You tried to focus on your new life in a new country. You made friends, they were not close, but they were there. You found a job and was very successful in your education and the outside. Landing an amazing paying job as soon as you graduated. You had a more stable life now. You kept in regular contact with your friends back in your home country as well as your new ones. When your company approached you with the idea of transferring to your home city in a higher paying position, you jumped to the opportunity. You wanted to be closer to your family and your friends and the pay was amazing. You couldn`t possibly say no to it. Although it has been years since you went back, you were happy to start a new chapter in your hometown. Only letting your newfound friend group known that you will be back to stay, and you found yourself an apartment near your workplace, excited for a new beginning. 

Bang Chan, Changbin, Han and Felix welcome you at the airport, with huge signs and claps, making you embarrassed and they basically tackle you to the ground hugging you and taking your luggage away. You haven`t felt this much attention in a while so you are happy, feeling of home and embrace surrounding you both mentally and physically. 

You stay with your family for a few nights, your house getting ready for you. You feel content being back. Feeling like finally you can breathe. You feel familiar and good for your new position in a well-known fashion magazine. 

You know that it was a huge responsibility, but you were ready for it. 

You have kept in somewhat touch with your old friend group, following them on social media except Lee Know. He never accepted your requests and never reached out to you. Even though you wanted to reach out for a while, you thought maybe you can, since you were back. But you were not hopeful. When you went back to your family’s house, you visited his family, but he was not there. They told you he was busy with his work and had long hours but never gave you any specifics, they never asked you what happened or why did you two had a fall out, but you were sure that they knew because he told them. 

It was a quick visit, you went back to your family’s house and left for your new apartment. It was perfect. Small but perfect. It had two rooms, one was your bedroom and the other was your study room, you a great living room, it was comfortable but modern at the same time. Your kitchen was on the smaller side, but it had everything you needed. 

You spent your first night in your new apartment, excited for your new job and new beginning. 

You got up before then you had your alarm and took a relaxing shower and got ready for your first day. You wore a matching skirt and blazer combination in neutral colour and wore a white shirt, deciding to go basic for your first day. You took your bag and wore your shoes and made your way outside of your apartment to call an uber. You didn`t have a chance to get your company issued car yet and expecting it in few days but you didn`t mind it. 

You were excited as you went to your workplace in your uber and when you arrived at the building, they made sure they welcomed you. You made your walk to your office and settled your bag there and after your new assistant gave you a tour of the workplace.

You entered the photoshoot room and your assistant started to introduce you to everyone and when your eyes land on the photographer you were stunned. It was none other than Lee Minho. 

[platinumaspiration]

I posted 1,021 times in 2022

That's 656 more posts than 2021!

645 posts created (63%)

376 posts reblogged (37%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@microscotch

@goatskickin

@platinumaspiration

@amberdefault

@rascalcurious

I tagged 961 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#s2cc - 269 posts

#sims 2 cc - 265 posts

#ts2cc - 256 posts

#sims 2 download - 254 posts

#ts2 download - 230 posts

#the sims 2 cc - 175 posts

#plataspask - 160 posts

#4t2cc - 145 posts

#4t2 - 144 posts

#download - 143 posts

Longest Tag: 65 characters

#i have a few more items like this so don't want to confuse anyone

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Brandi's Top (2022 Edition)

EP12 Polo Cropped comin' in hot! TF version is acting up, but why make you wait because of teen angst? 😅 No longer wait, the teenager decided to come out of her room!

AF/TF, all appropriate morphs, 12 recolors, 2k poly

Download AF - SFS / MF TF REPO (requires AF) - SFS / MF TF STANDALONE - SFS / MF

693 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

#4

I hope you enjoy, please let me know of any issues! All recolors are compressed to one file (excluding custom colors)

requests by anon, @daydreamingdrawerette, @tete-sims, @moyokeansimblr @yalasims

Download All - SFS / MF Pick n Choose - SFS / MF

notes: Mabel was also converted by minicule and it's awesome and has had a default + recolors done already! I had mine completed around the same time and decided to upload anyway with a different EA color palette + a few custom colors

credit: @aharris00britney @aladdin-the-simmer @arethabee @boonstoww @buzzardly28 @daylifesims @isjao @johnnysims @marsosims @simsontherope (original) @simandy @simomo-cc @simstrouble

Aharrisbritney Brie: 3.8k, TF-EF Aharrisbritney Lizzie: 3k, UF Aharrisbritney Teri: 3.3, UU AladdintheSimmer Lucas: 4.7k, UM Arethabee Anne V2: 8.1k, CF-EF Arethabee Shelley: 4.9k, CF-EF Boonstow Jasmine: 8.4k, CF-EF Boonstow Rosemary: 7k, CF-EF Buzzard Adelaide: 11.1k, CF-EF Daylifesims Born to Die: 10.1k, CF-EF Daylifesims Cassie Party: 15.2k, CF-EF Daylifesims Cassie Pigtails: 15.1k, CF-EF Daylifesims Liv: 15.3k, UF IsJao's Emma: 12.4k, TF-EF JohnnySims Darwin: 6.1k, UM Marsosims Sabel: 4k, UF Rope Short & Curly: 1.8k, UM Simandy Wind: 10.2k, CF-EF Simomo Shinra: 10.3k, CM-EM Simstrouble Jazz Riff: 7k, UM Simstrouble Stevie: 12.4, CU-EU Simstrouble Vasia: 15.6, CF-EF Veve Adonis V2: 9.2k, UU

☕

763 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

#3

This is peak late 80s/ early 90s I've ever seen haha. Shoes are the Moonlight Chic platforms by trillyke! You can choose between repo or standalone versions. Enjoy, please let me know if any issues!

TF/AF, appropriate morphs, 11 recolors, 6.5k poly

REPO - SFS / MF STANDALONE - SFS / MF

credit: @trillyke

827 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#2

Here is anon's request for Simandy's Yuna! It comes in 2 flavors: full body (paired with lace up boots) and top only. As with any short skirt, there's bound to be clipping. Hope you all enjoy!

Comes in 30 colors (swatch included), all morphs, 2.7k - 3.4k poly

Top Only - SFS / MF Full Body - SFS / MF

credits: @simandy

831 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

857 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

Hearts for Hero Headcanon Requests

(Event banner of this post includes official OMORI art edited by us in Canva)

Hi fellow Hero enjoyers! We've decided to open up Hero headcanon requests on this blog since the world could always use more Hero content!

Please send in an ask with a heart or two from the list below, and we'll answer it with a Hero headcanon that corresponds to that category:

💚-- General

🧡-- Childhood

💝-- Future

💙-- Hurt/Comfort

🖤-- Angst

🤍-- Fluff

❤️‍🔥-- Hopes & Dreams/Life Passions

❤️-- Secrets

💘-- Romance

💛-- Friendship

💗-- Family

💕 -- As a Parent

💖-- Alternate Universe (AU)

A couple of rules & considerations:

All requests must be Safe For Work.

Requests can be made anonymously.

The same category can be requested multiple times in different asks for a different headcanon in the category.

Any angst asks including heavy themes (i.e. grief & mourning, mental health issues ect.) will have proper warnings and be put under a cut.

Since this is a Hero Appreciation Blog, all requests must include & prominently feature Hero, but you can request for relationships with Hero in them (For instance, "💛 for Hero and Sunny's friendship." You can also mix categories like "💙 for Hero and Kel as brothers" or "❤️‍🔥& 🖤 for HeroMari"). Unless otherwise specified or in the case of HeroMari (which we know was canonically romantic), all relationships will be taken as platonic. [Please note: HeroMari is the main ship of this blog though we also like Hero/Brandi & a little bit of Hero/OC in "When Sun Shines Again." To make this blog super inclusive for all Hero appreciators regardless of their ship preferences for the other OMORI characters, no content that involves undeniably/explicitly romantic ships for Sunny, Kel, Aubrey, or Basil will be posted here as a general rule and any requests involving a ship in this category will be politely declined. Please see our pinned post for more info].

All romantic headcanons must be either general (just for Hero) or, in the case of Hero x Canon Character pairings, for a ship in which the other character is confirmed in the canon to be Hero's age since he is canonically an adult [i.e. Mari (who is the same age as Hero) or Brandi (who is confirmed to attend university with him) would be acceptable]. Asks for romantic headcanons for any ships between Hero and a canon character with an ambiguous age will be politely declined. Please see our pinned post for more info].

If a relationship is not specified in the ask, the headcanon will just be about Hero as a character in general [i.e. "💘" would be general Hero romance headcanons (i.e. how he best shows or receives love) and "💛" would just be general Hero friendship headcanons (i.e. something he loves to do for all of his friends) ect.]

For AU headcanon requests, we are generally not comfortable creating headcanons for specific AUs that we did not create ourselves and with which we are unfamiliar. There may be exceptions for AUs we are extremely familiar with that follow the rules of our blog (listed under "Blog Considerations" on our pinned post), but for the most part, we would ask that you please choose something broad like a "Mari Lives AU" or a general type of AUs as seen across fandoms (i.e. "Coffee Shop AU" or "Fantasy AU") because we can put our own spin on it. You are also welcome to send in a request for AU headcanons without specifying a type of AU, and we will make one up for you.

We reserve the right to politely decline a request (but we probably won't if you respect our rules). 😊

Thank you so much for playing! Cheers!!🥰

💙EVENT MASTERLIST LINK!💙

[water-to-drink]

Agua’s Record Bar!!

Open from 07/15 - 08/05

This is to celebrate reaching 500 followers on this blog, I’m opening a pop up bar

All requests will be SFW, I can’t do NSFW now, (maybe in the future)

Seating:

Bar- Headcanons/bullet points

Booth- Ficlet/drabble

Table- Both

Now that you’re all set, take a look at the menu and decide how you want your evening to be. Let us know your choice of a waiter or 2 (unfortunately Dottore couldn’t make it), drink order, song selection, and reader insert

Songs

Up to 3 songs per request

Gartoa De Ipanema- Yandere

The Look of Love- Romance

Agua de Beber- Platonic/friendship

A Felicidade- Hurt no comfort

Mas Que Nada- Comfort

Carolina, Carol Bela - Modern au

Muito a Vontade- Self aware au

40 Cups of Coffee- Coffee shop au

Bound- Soulmate au

Yesterday Once More- Pinning

Days of Wine and Roses- Royal au

Killing Me Softly With His Song- Horror

Where Evil Grows- Supernatural au

I Like It (I like it like that)- Isekai

O Caminho- Reverse Isekai

Mr. Sandman- Badass reader

Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love)- Fluff

A Man Without Love- Angst

My Funny Valentine- Idiots in love

Samba de Uma Nota Só- Idol/pop star au

Chega De Saudade- Angst with comfort

Drink Menu

Ice- Fem reader

No ice- Masc reader

Garnish- Gender neutral reader

You can order up to 5 drinks per order

Gin & tonic- First date

Old Fashioned- Domestic

Daiquiri- Beach/pool

Sangrita- Falling in love

Margarita- Music

Shirley Temple- First meeting

Mojito- Established relationship

Pink Lady- Fashion

Gimlet- Confession

Mimosa- Marriage

Irish Coffee- Snow

Rum & Coke- Tears

Planter’s Punch- Plants

Whiskey Sour- Jealousy

El Diablo- Touch starved

Paloma- Adoption

Limoncello Spritz- Gala/masquerade

Bloody Mary- Wounds

Gin Fizz- One sided

Chocolatini- Baked goods

Tom Collins- Surprise/unexpected

Skeleton key cocktail- Possessiveness

Sidecar- Bridal carry

Brandy Alexander- Cooking

Bellini- Secret dating

Americano- Fake dating

Golden Dream- Sharing

Long Island Iced Tea- Giving in

Aviation- Gift

Last Word- Break up/final goodbye

Reservations are open now