#I fell in love with his very dry sense of humor so instantly I had no idea cos of bor'dor like he's so fucking funny I need him back
Text
I watched Twitch once and I got burned.
#critical role#4 sided dive#utkarsh#ygifs#I fell in love with his very dry sense of humor so instantly I had no idea cos of bor'dor like he's so fucking funny I need him back#liam trying to placate the vibe and utkarsh just going nah FUCK em sdkjfskldjf they need him
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
from one kid to another
w/c: 6.0k
warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times
summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own
a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves
-
there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.
depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.
you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.
your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.
two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.
where do you go from here?
the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.
the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.
no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.
but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.
tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.
you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.
tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.
you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.
most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.
he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.
“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.
tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”
from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.
the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.
thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.
you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?
tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.
you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.
the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.
he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.
he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.
whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.
sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.
tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.
when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.
he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.
it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.
you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.
flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.
you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.
he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.
neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.
sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.
“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.
you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.
tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.
“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.
not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.
he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.
the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.
halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.
you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.
you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...
“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.
you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?
the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.
“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.
“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.
“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.
you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.
the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.
since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.
there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.
you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”
you’re about to cry in three, two...
“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.
“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”
harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.
the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.
“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.
“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.
he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.
his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.
“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”
“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.
“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.
he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.
“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.
“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.
“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”
yeah, really shitty ones.
“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.
you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.
the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.
it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.
“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.
tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.
“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.
“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.
thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”
you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”
oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?
you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.
the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...
while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.
he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.
saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.
“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.
tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.
“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“
“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.
“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.
“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”
“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.
“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.
“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”
the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.
“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.
“forever.”
-
you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.
despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.
tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.
he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.
you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.
to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.
you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.
all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.
“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.
“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.
“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.
#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#tom holland x you#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland imagine#tom holland au#peter parker#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#marvel
696 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is my attempt at the Fluff ABCs for Frankie the Undead. Please be gentle with criticism because I cry easily. I’ve taken some ideas from @lovestruck-lasagna.
Taglist: @writingfromthetomb @beebubb
A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)
Your dry sense of humor. It perfectly matches his insults and he doesn’t have to go out of his way to make you laugh. He just says what he’s thinking and you laugh and agree.
B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)
Frankie appreciates a good smile, and for many reasons. He learned to read smiles (fake vs real) early on and uses it to gauge people, so he pays particular attention by default. He’s a sucker for cute dimples, and loves the way your nose scrunches and your eyes close.
C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)
He loves late at night when you share the couch and he can read a good book, sip on some whiskey, or puff on a cigar. He really doesn’t care what you’re doing, he can tune out the TV or you prattling on about your day and make comments to show he’s listening. Put your feet in his lap, lay on top of him, make yourselves mummies in blankets, so long as he can reach his glass he doesn’t care. He just wants to be with you.
D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)
Stay in date nights are his favorite. He doesn’t really like to “share” your attention. He likes to either cook a meal together or order takeout and watch a movie. Particularly black and white gangster ones, or older horror films. Likes to tease you if you get scared and grab onto him. He’ll pat your head and say something like “oh there there, don’t be scared! I won’t let the big, bad monster getcha!” (Like your neighbor isn’t a 7 ft tall children murdering clown demon) If you go out, he prefers less crowded places outdoors.
E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)
He’s a spitfire and he knows it. He tends to explode and then after a few minutes apologizes gruffly and explains himself. “WHY WERE YA OUT UNTIL MIDNIGHT, THATS SUCH A STUPID THING TO DO!” “Sorry, Frankie.” “…… ugh just, please get home earlier from now on. It’s dangerous and I worry about you.” Definitely doesn’t hug you close so you don’t see the relief and worry on his face. Nope!
F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)
He misses Amy desperately. He wants a little girl in his life again, although he’ll never ever admit it. He’s hesitant to make relationships because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. But, if you go out with him to the living world, you’ll catch him staring longingly at parents and daughters when he thinks you’re not looking. If you ask him what he’s looking at, he’ll shake his head and spit out a line about children being obnoxious but you can tell he’s blowing smoke.
G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)
If the underworld wasn’t so dangerous, he’d love to drape you in the finest silks with diamonds and rubies dripping off of you. However he doesn’t want you to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So, he settles for things you don’t really see in public. He also doesn’t like to be found out about it. Your gas tank is filled, the bill you were worried about has mysteriously been paid, your favorite ice cream is in your freezer when you know you ate the last of it yesterday, and hey, didn’t you spend this $20? Why is it in your wallet? If you ever bring it up he’ll just shrug and say “How strange!”
H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)
He’s torn about PDA because he doesn’t want you to become a target because you’re associated with him, and people stare at him enough because of his appearance. But on the other hand, he wants to show the world that someone as worthless as him (don’t say that we love you Frankie) has such an amazing person that loves him. Will absolutely grab you and passionately make out with you with one hand on your ass and the other flipping the bird to the cheeky bastard that told the broad beside him to watch out for the zombie.
I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)
Panic. Sheer panic. He’s so afraid to lose you, any injury is serious and cause for alarm.
Frankie:*bursting into a hospital lobby, screaming to be taken to f/n l/n immediately**running in the opposite direction the nurse pointed in panic**bursts into exam room 30 seconds later* “Y/N!!!!! I came as soon as I got the message, WHATS WRONG!!!”
You: *sitting on the table, reading phone* “Oh, I have a sprained ankle and they don’t want me to drive so can you give me a ride?”
Frankie:*slowly blinking* “Uh, yeah no problem…”
You: “lemme guess, you heard my name and hospital in the same sentence and ignored everything else.”
Frankie:*hanging his head* “go wait in the car, I’ll go apologize….”
J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)
Not actual jokes, but he loves to sit with you and insult people. He’s an incredibly sweet person to you, but no one else. (Except service people, like nurses and waitresses. Just the general public) he doesn’t think pranks are funny or practical, which is one of the many reasons he and LJ butt heads. If LJ or Will prank you or him, he’s raising hell.
K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)
Love kissing your lips. He’s actually really self conscious about his mouth stitches and constantly frets they feel weird to you. Neck kisses are another favorite and are extremely private to him. He also likes to hold the back of your hand against his lips and tell you what he’s thinking, no matter how mundane. Kiss his stitches. Please. Just do it.
L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)
He has trouble saying it to your face. He’ll whisper it to you when he thinks you’re sleeping, and he’s been known to leave little notes around for you to find. He thinks protecting you is the best way to show he cares.
M = Memory (favorite memory together?)
The day you finally broke down and told him you loved him. He knew as soon as he looked into your eyes and saw your smile his goose was cooked. He was very abrasive and hoping against hope that you’d leave him be. He knew you deserved better. He was so afraid to build a relationship and love again, he wanted to distance himself and if he was an asshole to you, it would be justified and you’d do it on your own. What he didn’t expect is for you to be so kind to him. Upon your initial meeting, he had been a little harsh, but helped you (if there’s enough interest I’ll do a fic about it) and so when he subsequently was a jerk to you, you were curious and determined to find out what he was hiding. He finally had been mean enough to make you cry. He had never regretted something he did before. He immediately wanted to cradle you to him and beg your forgiveness. Normally when he insulted you, you’d have a snarky retort in reply. But not this time. You fell to your knees and clung to his legs and demanded to know why he treated you so poorly and proclaimed your love for him. It was probably by accident and you were so distraught you didn’t even know it flew from your mouth, but hearing it, he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you. Hearing that you loved someone like him made him so happy, he knew he’d treasure the memory forever
N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)
Losing you. Period.
O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)
What ISNT odd about this man?! A cute one is he always winks with his green eye.
P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)
I HC that he was born in the 30’s, so he calls you “doll” a lot but only in private. He uses your name otherwise so it’s not as obvious to people watching you’re together. He will absolutely refer to you as “the dame” to others. The equivalent of “the boss” or “old lady.” “William! The Dame is trying to take a nap, so shut up or I’ll shoot you!” You call him stitches to tease him in private and are the only person allowed to do so.
Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) Either taking naps or couch potato time. Also, low key likes to cook with you. He can’t cook for shit, but likes to “help” by handing you things or chopping things for you. Is a super good taste tester, self appointed.
R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)
Stitches by Shawn Mendez (PLEASE DONT HURT ME!!)
We don’t have to Dance by Andy Black (referring to how he can’t really show you affection in public but he loves you)
S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)
He’s open about himself and what he’s thinking, and will always take what you say into consideration. He doesn’t like to keep things from you, but he does omit some detail about his jobs if you ask about them. He just feels like you don’t need to be stressed about it.
T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)
LJ picked up on Frankie’s fondness of you almost instantly. He and Will decided to do what they could to get you together in the interest of making Frankie less of a grouch. If it hadn’t been for them insisting that he was good guy to you, you probably WOULD have let Frankie’s prickly nature drive you away. It took a year or so for you to break down.
U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?) A powder keg of insults, foul language, and bullets. Has actually never called you a name outright, and would absolutely never physically hurt you. When he was deliberately being rude to you, he’d insult your actions rather than you. “Stop acting like a dumb broad!” Vs calling you a bitch to your face. He usually calms down quickly, and is hardly ever angry at you, only when you put yourself in danger.
V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)
He likes that he’s scary and tough looking so that when you’re with him, other men scatter pretty fast. Has had many occasions where he stepped away and someone came to flirt with you and he came back and had the pleasure of scaring them.
W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)
You are not allowed to do anything dangerous, ever! Will teach you how to use a gun and how to counter things like chokeholds, so you’re less vulnerable. Will absolutely lose his mind if he learns you’ve put yourself at risk. He will shoot someone so fast for you. Takes every person as a threat to you and will pick fights with somebody that accidentally bumped into you. Do NOT test this man.
X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)
You are an open book to him. He’s learned to read people well, and he takes his time studying you. Can tell if you’re getting sick before you can. More than once he’s handed you a bottle of Tylenol, leaving you bewildered, and shrugged and said to take them because you’ll have a headache in a few minutes. He can pick up on your emotions easily and has learned what to do to handle them.
Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)
Honestly, marriage isn’t that important to him. He’s not opposed to the idea at all, but like you’ve been together for this long, you love each other, is it really necessary? You’d have to tell him you want to be officially married. He’ll buy you a ring, to show that you’re taken, if nothing else, but he’ll wear his around his neck under his tie so it’s not obvious he’s attached to anyone to discourage his rivals using you to get to him.
Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)
The smell of your perfume. Holding you in his arms and taking deep breaths makes all of his troubles go away.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Ties That Bind Us - Part 8
Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.
A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.
Words: 2438
Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, all the angst
PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN
I hesitated to open my eyes, for fear that I’d wake up and it would all have been a dream. My lips felt warm and pleasantly swollen as I reached my hand up slowly to touch them, keeping my eyes shut. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyelids, coming eye to eye with Dean as he lay next to me staring.
Sheepishly, I smiled and released a small chuckle with my fingertips still glazing over my bottom lip. “Well,” I said meekly. “Not a dream.” His eyebrows were still knitted together as if he was unsure as to what my reaction would be. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward as the hint of a smirk began to spread.
“Kinda was for me,” he said through an exhale of breath as he ran the back of his fingers along my cheek. I leaned into his touch, relishing in the delightful feel of his skin on mine.
“How long,” I asked him.
“How long what? How long have I wanted to do that?” He paused, leaving the silence pregnant with anticipation. He let out a quick breath, looking to the ceiling as he thought. “Six years ago, St. Patrick’s Day. I told you to kiss me cause I’m Irish. You called me an idiot and threw a pillow at my face.” I laughed at his response. “Been hooked ever since.”
I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks as they blushed and a coy smile wound itself across my face.
“Or did you mean how long have I known you wanted me to? Cause that’s a very different answer.”
I ducked my head down, attempting to hide from his view, and buried my nose into the crook of his neck. “I mean, I’d be happy to answer that one for you, too, sweetheart but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” His words dripped with sarcasm as he pursed his lips and left a trail of kisses from the crown of my head and down the side of my face, slowly pulling my head back up to face him.
“See, when things weren’t looking all that great for you? I wasn’t doing so well. I wasn’t the pillar of strength you’re used to on the day to day.” His face returned to seriousness now, and my eyes fixated on him. “I kind of fell apart. No, that’s not true. I completely fell apart. A world without you in it? That’s not a world I want to be in.”
I felt tears pooling in my eyes, but I held them at bay.
“So, my baby brother, he decides he needs to cheer me up. See, he yanks me up to my feet, slams me up against a wall and tells me to stop being a selfish prick. Tells me I can help you by just keeping it together, by staying with you.” Dean’s hand lifted as he pushed my hair gently behind my ear. “Now I’m lost at this point. He’s talking crazy and all I want to do is hide from the world. But the big oaf that Sam is, he wouldn’t allow that.” He leaned in towards me again, pressing a short, chaste kiss to my lips before tucking his chin over the crown of my head.
“Instead, he looks me in the eye, tells me I’m a moron, and lets me go. But not before just blurting out ‘She loves you, you jackass,’ and proceeding to lecture me about how dumb I am.” The smile on his face is beyond genuine and my entire body feels as though it’s turned to gelatin. “That true,” he asks me, his eyes back on mine. The confident smirk on his face is betrayed only by the pleading desperation in his green orbs that are so focused on mine that I dare not even blink.
Slowly, I nod my head, feeling that same blush rise in my cheeks again. “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking as I did so.
“Thank god,” he breathed out as his lips once again plastered themselves against mine, knocking the air out of me as he slowly wound his arm around my waist. He leaned into me, rolling me over onto my back as he rested his body on top of mine, his hips jutting against my own. I could feel his calloused hands wandering; one tangled in my hair as his fingers deftly caressed my ear lobe as his other held our bodies closer together.
I had wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him with desperation. Dean pushed against me harder as I felt his excitement growing against my groin. I broke our lips apart, breathing deeply as I lifted my hand to the back of his head, entwining my fingers in his hair. He began grinding his hips against me; an act I longed for but subsequently found intolerable. Shocks of pain tore through my abdomen in waves and I cried out, gasping for air as I ground my teeth together.
“Fuck,” I grimaced, wincing. Dean instantly backed away, holding himself almost as if he were doing a pushup.
“What’s wrong?” His panicked voice rang out as his eyes examined me.
I removed one hand from his firm waist and grabbed for my side, desperate to alleviate some of the pain.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, looking down towards my waist. It seemed instantaneous that I sprang off the bed and frantically searched for the remote control with the nurse call button. A few seconds passed and the pain had ebbed.
“Dean, I’m fine, really.” My attempt to settle him did nothing as I spoke to his back. He was running towards the doorway now, yelling for help.
I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was surely overreacting. Pulling my hand away, I glanced down and took in the sight of dark red blood pooling slowly on the sheet beneath me. “Well, crap.”
Dean walked back into the room, a female nurse clad in dark purple scrubs in tow. He raised his hand and pointed towards my wound, and she immediately got to work. My gown was quickly pushed to the side as she took a look at the damage that had been done.
“You’ve popped a staple out. Haven’t seen that too often!” Her voice was cheery and calming as she smiled sweetly at me.
“I’ll get the doctor and we’ll get you patched up again in no time. Good as new, huh? How are you feeling in the meantime? What’s your pain level?”
“I’m good,” I answered simply.
“Are you sure, darlin’? You look a little flushed.” Her eyes were intent now, taking in every physical cue that she could.
“That, uh,” Dean began with that devilish half smile of his. “That could be my fault.” He held up a finger as if claiming victory. I rolled my eyes in response and watched as the nurse did the same.
She turned her head to face him and took up the absolutely accurate stance of an angry mother about to berate their petulant child. “You do know that she’s recently had invasive surgery, yes?”
I watched as Dean shrank under the nurse’s stare. He nodded solemnly.
“And that a team of highly trained surgeons spent several hours fixing her up and putting her back together again with slim odds that she’d even wake up, let alone thrive and begin healing?” Her question was obviously rhetorical. Dean held eye contact with her and nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d never sounded so young and childlike.
“So maybe, just maybe, we can pause on the hanky panky funny stuff until after she’s discharged, yeah?”
I stifled my laughter as Dean nodded again, and the nurse exited the room, patting his shoulder as she walked by; the smile on her face betrayed the entertainment she had felt at Dean’s expense.
Dean skulked back towards me, lowering himself into the chair beside my bed. The laughter that I had been withholding came pouring out of me, eliciting more pain as I again held my side.
“Geez, Y/N, you’re going to open yourself up more.” Dean placed his hands on my arms, attempting to hold me still.
“Yeah, well. You started it.”
His eyes went wide with incredulity. “How do you figure?”
“You were the one who opened up first!” My cheesy joke landed flat.
Dean rolled his eyes, leaning backwards in his chair as he sighed dramatically. “Good to see you didn’t lose your awful sense of humor.”
I smiled at him exaggeratedly. “I’m delightful.”
He smiled at me again, reaching over and raking his fingertips down my cheek. “Yeah,” he paused. “You are.”
The doctors had swooped into the room, getting me all stitched back together in a blur of lights, antiseptic, and latex gloves. The same nurse had accompanied them, insisting on administering more morphine when she did so.
They moved me into a wheelchair as they waited for my bedsheets to be taken out and laundered. I was struggling to keep my head up as I leaned my temple against my palm, fighting to hold my eyelids open. I could feel Dean’s warm hand drawing comforting circles on my back, but my head was swimming. His soothing voice rang out every few minutes, letting me know that it was okay if I wanted to fall asleep. Encouraged even. But stubbornly, I refused, shaking my head and insisting on waiting until Sam came back.
It wasn’t too long until Sam peaked his head into my room; his long hair unkept and falling in his face.
“Hey, Tarzan,” I mumbled, giggling at my own joke. Both the boys stared at me quizzically as my eyes closed and I leaned further over onto the side, my chuckles growing quieter.
“Tarzan? I thought it was Thor.” Sam’s voice drifted in as if he were speaking through static.
“She’s out of her mind on morphine, Sammy. Don’t worry.” I could hear the jest in Dean’s voice as he spoke from just behind me.
There was a small hint of commotion as an orderly came in with a rolling tray full of food for me. With my eyes still closed, I took a deep breath, attempting to smell my meal. But my sense of smell reacted negatively as I breathed in the scent of hard-boiled eggs, squash and fish.
“Gross,” I protested, grabbing at the wheels of the wheelchair I sat in and attempting to push myself away.
“No. Don’t want that,” I murmured as I shook my head. There was a strong hand grasping my shoulders as someone gently whispered in my ear to relax. “Mom made me lasagna,” I groaned, as large tears overwhelmed my lids and began cascading down my cheeks.
I felt warm fingers press against my cheeks as Dean’s familiar voice repeated my name softly.
“Hey, Y/N. Can you open your eyes for me?”
I stubbornly shook my head, opting for the darkness my closed eyelids afforded me. I could feel panic rising in my chest, and my breaths began coming in stuttered waves. Sam’s voice was screaming into the hallway, demanding a nurse or any sort of help. But my head was swimming. I could still smell the garlic and tomatoes as the cheese bubbled on the top of my favorite dish. I could hear my mother’s voice as she spoke with me. My father’s warm, teddy-bear embrace still ghosted over my arms. But all I could see was black. I longed for the comfort their memories had afforded me.
“Daddy,” I mumbled out as I felt the familiar push of medication run up my arm as forced, restless sleep overtook me.
I woke hours later. Days possibly. The sky outside my window was still dark and the light in the room too dim. Running my dry hands down my face, I pulled myself slowly to sit up in the bed. The ache in my side not entirely unnoticed. Every muscle in my body was sore and resisted moving. I kicked my legs out gently over the bed, glaring at my thighs as I balanced myself on them with the palms of my hands.
“Don’t even think about it,” Dean’s voice was stern as he spoke from the chair in the corner of the room. I watched his arms flex as he walked towards me, squatting effortlessly in front of me as his eyes locked onto mine.
“Back in bed.” His words were stern, but his eyes betrayed some sadness that lingered on his face.
“Dean?” My voice was groggy and sounded foreign to me.
“Y/N get your ass back in bed, now.” He sounded almost defeated; an unfamiliar tone for him.
I acquiesced and pulled my legs back onto the uncomfortable air mattress, keeping my eyes set on his face. “What’s wrong,” I asked him. “You seem grumpy.” He took his seat again in the lounge chair next to me, leaning on his knees with his elbows.
A forced, quick breath leaked through his nostrils, full of incredulity. “Grumpy, huh?” He paused. “Can’t imagine why.” His eyes fell to his hands, focusing on the thin piece of fabric that he was fiddling with. He flicked his gaze up to me, following my gaze back down to his hands.
“It’s part of your shirt,” he explained. “Or, well, was.” He paused again. “It tore off in your back there,” he gestured towards my side. “Had to dig it out on the way here.”
I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my surprise. “I’m sorry, Dean.”
He pursed his eyebrows and looked up towards me slowly. “For what? Getting stabbed? Not your fault.”
I reached towards him, surprised when I watched him pull away and lean back into his seat. “See, getting stabbed? Hurt? Happens to all of us. But you,” he said, holding the fabric up towards me. “You were reckless. You ditched me and Sam and did your damnedest to be in more danger than you needed to be.” His eyes shot up towards mine again, that same pained sadness shooting out of his eyes as he let silence stretch between us.
“And here, in this hospital. Some of the things you’re saying, been saying. They’ve got me wondering.”
I let his statement stand, wanting desperately to not discuss the topic at hand. “See, I’m wondering if there’s not something you’re hiding. Something you didn’t or aren’t telling me. And that? That won’t work. That’s something else.” He dropped his head, clenching his hand into a fist as he held onto the scrap of clothing. “So, talk.”
To be continued….
Part Nine
Taglist (Tag requests are open):
@vicmc624 @waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93 @supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero @lilulo-12 @slamminmine @mimaria420
(Desperate attempt to get my faves to notice me) @thinkinghardhardlythinking @smol-and-grumpy @wonder-cole-reads @watermelonlipstick @that-one-gay-girl @waywardbaby @luci-in-trenchcoats @holylulusworld @cockslut-padalecki @calaofnoldor
#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean x reader#spn angst#spn slow burn#fairlyspnfanfic#supernatural#fanfiction#fanfic
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Repetition
Captain Rex x Reader
I’ve been so stressed with work and personal things so i haven’t really thought about writing - so i’m doing this, partly because it’s fun, but also because i feel bad for ghosting 💀 anyway hope everyone’s doing okay and my asks are open!! 💘💘💘
———————————————————————
Your head hurt as if it were buried under at least a feet of thick snow. It was the type of hurt that made your ears ring, and your body ache and groan in harmless melody with that of the rising sun that made it creak each morning. Your eyes felt eternally heavy and cheeks almost sullen. The life had been drained out of you; and you were watching it with minimal interest as it danced in front of you like a puppet on strings, smiling only once or twice at the playful apparition.
It didn’t take long for the sun that pooled through your open window to wake you, and when you did, you awoke with a bitter taste on your tongue. There was something perfectly serene about mornings, or at least there was now that the day was often filled with war and chaos. Perhaps it was the timely arrival of a new day: young and reborn, or maybe it was just the apricity of an oppressive sky. It was still true, except that serendipity hadn’t felt pure in such a long time, not since the camaraderie of the GAR soon grew bittersweet. The gruelling fact still stood; that once the sun settled strongly in the sky, and you’d showered and eaten, the blissful beauty of the morning would be instantly forgotten as it was no different than that of yesterday’s. Some things were meant to be forgotten, others relished and remembered. Too many things fell far into the depths of repetition, loosing their magic with each thoughtless example.
The routine that you followed was simple: wake, refresher, breakfast, work. It was simple and you liked it that way, but the blandness didn’t help the sour taste of the ache in your swollen mind. You were at the second step, though had taken a minute to find a missing item that you’d only just remembered to have misplaced. You found it under the sink, and after placing it back in it’s rightful place, felt yourself growing in even more discomfort. Did it have to stay there, or did you only make it? It stared at you and you sucked your teeth, undecided in it’s gaze. Maybe it was right; maybe you didn’t have to live in such binary.
The thought itself sparked your furrowed brows to lift slightly upon your face, and your body to spring up as if it hadn’t bloomed for each year’s harvest. You left your routine in bits torn up on your floor as you grabbed your jacket in the hallway and fled, out of the door, down the stairs and into the chaos that followed. It was as loud as it always was - but this time you didn’t grumble internally at how Coruscant needed better traffic systems, only smiled at how people did live in such disagreeable harmony.
It was a blur, the journey, slightly more exhilarating than what you were used to. The travelling in itself was short and sweet; you had done that on purpose, to be closer to something that was readily becoming something that would take up so much of your care and time. You never complained once about that specific element, in fact you saw it as a blessing to be a part of something so monumental. When you did arrive at the barracks and dropped the bag you’d forgotten to pack that morning down beside you on the floor with a flushed face, something was different. Amongst the familiar smells that welcomed you, and the chatter among clones that rose up and down as each clank of an engine sputtered, you realised what specifically was missing. An idea blessed your senses at the very smell that welcomed you; if everything else was so simple, why couldn’t that be too.
You knew he’d be somewhere, he always was, but finding the Captain of the 501st was sometimes an impossible feat. You ran and ran down hallways and darted in and out of rooms, waving haphazardly at the distantly recognisable people you stumbled across. Your fast walk grew into a light jog as adrenaline pumped through your veins, then it tumbled and dispersed into what could’ve been a sprint!
It hit you like a brick. Or he hit you actually. The plastoid chest that was now encroaching on your blinking vision was the reason for your dramatic stop, and as you rubbed the light pain away your eyes traipsed upwards to your obstacles’ face.
“I’m so sorry!” Rex laughed breathily. He took your elbows and guided you to a sturdier footing as you grumbled at the pain now diminishing.
It took you a minute to compose yourself, and when you did your cheeks reddened at the recollection of the last few minutes.
“Ack, don’t be. Good morning aswell.” Your humor was as dry as it always was, and Rex loved it just as he always did.
“Mornin’ huh? What’s got you runnin’ so fast?” His smile didn’t fade, and it even lasted long enough to wear off on you. The fluttering in your stomach returned after less than a second of his presence it was almost embarrassing.
“I- uh, I had a strange morning. I decided, well not really decided I had a thought and followed it- anyway I thought- I just- I wanted to see you?” Your babblings ended in a question - your real decision had been just as disarrayed.
The Captain tilted his head to left in confusion. “What?” He tired, another breathy laugh leaving his lips.
“I don’t want things to be so” you gestured furiously, before giving up and hand picking words instead “preordained! Everything’s black and white.”
You stopped talked and winced, you weren’t helping yourself at all at this point.
Rex remained confused, though his expression did change slightly to a more compassionate look than judgemental.
“I like you, Rex, and- and I want to be able to say that.”
Your admission made it difficult for you to meet his eyes, but when you did, he was smirking smugly.
“What?”
“Nothing” He grinned, “I just wanna know what happened this mornin’ that made your mind change up so fast.”
You couldn’t help yourself but chuckle at that; it had been eventful.
“C’mon, I’m hungry and it just so happens I like your company too.” He took your hand (though the joke in his tone made it hard to see it as a romantic gesture, however much you wanted to) and guided you to the canteen doorway.
You stopped and he turned at the change in your speed. You met his questioning eyes with bold ones.
“You know i meant it, I like you, Rex.”
“I do too.”
His smile was growing, as was the warmth in your heat. You returned your position by his side, and as you did he pressed a smiling kiss against your forehead, which you jokingly pushed off with a hearty laugh. A mature conversation could wait until after breakfast.
———————————————————————
I hope you liked this (likes n reblogs vv much appreciated!!) i’m honestly not sure what i was doing 😭 i had no plan this time oops! i haven’t proof read and i’m too tired to do so, so i’m just gonna hope this is actually worth anything 🥴💘
#captain rex x reader#rex x reader#captain rex#rex headcanon#501stlegion#501st battalion#501st#clone trooper headcanons#clone headcanons#incorrect clone wars#clone wars#the clones#the clone wars#the cw
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
resurge infra terra
Octoberfest 4: Buried Alive (whumptober #4)
Jaskier woke in the dark.
The smell of earth was so intense it made him gag. There was a pressure all around him, crushing down on his chest and forcing him to take tiny, gasping breaths. His hands were over his face, and he pushed them away slightly, making a tiny pocket where he could pant into the damp air. Was he dead? Jaskier’s mind swirled with hazy memories - sharp fangs piercing into his shoulder, his muscles seizing, watching Geralt wave shortly as he went off in search of the local monster. Waiting at the edge of town when it started getting late. He wasn’t sure if that was all in the right order, but it didn’t seem to matter. He had a more pressing issue, namely that it seemed the alderman had been wrong when he said that the creature’s bite killed instantly.
The cloth of the shroud - his actual burial shroud, fuck - stuck to his face, and Jaskier could feel the weight of the dirt above him, pressing down heavily. The sense of claustrophobia was so immediate and intense that he wanted to retch, but he found he didn’t have the room or the air to do so. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet, he assumed, was because whatever coma-like state the aracas had put him in must not have demanded much air. He must have woken only just in time - any longer and he might have suffocated.
He still might. His lungs burned for air. What little was left under the thick shroud with him wasn’t enough. Jaskier needed to move now, or he was going to die - actually, this time.
At least they already went through the trouble of burying me, he thought, head spinning. He was so dizzy. He hoped they’d given him a nice headstone.
His hands pushed up against the shroud, and he could have cried when it easily parted. Northern custom dictated that the deceased be buried with their hands covering their eyes - an old elven tradition, he thought vaguely. It had protected his mouth and nose from the pressure of the dirt above, and now he used one hand to hold the shroud in place while he pawed at the ground. The dirt above him was loose, only just dumped in place, and he shoved it aside as quickly as he could. More dirt fell back in its place, but he kept going, wriggling against the pressure and using his elbow to shove as much as he could towards his toes. With each movement the earth gave a little more, but Jaskier could feel himself growing weaker. His lungs were spasming in his chest, as if he’d been underwater for too long, bathing with Geralt by the riverside. The dark, wet dirt pressed in all around him, and he was never going to get out, never, he was going to die here -
His fingers broke through the surface.
He must have looked like something out of a ghost tale, clawing his way up out of the ground and ripping the shroud from his face. Crisp night air flooded his chest, and Jaskier found himself choking and retching up dirt and muck. He was still half in the grave, his legs stuck at an odd angle. Slowly Jaskier pulled himself out of the ground and flung himself to the side, breathing hard as he stared up at the starry sky. There was no headstone. What an insult.
Figuring out how to get up and go find Geralt seemed like a truly insurmountable task, so Jaskier did the only sensible thing he could think of: he fainted again.
*
When he came to again, it was to large, warm hands shaking him. Someone was saying his name rather loudly.
“Oi,” he muttered, batting at the fingers clutching his shirt. “Leave me alone, I’m dead.”
It was then that he remembered that he wasn’t, actually, so he opened his eyes experimentally. He was met by a very shaken looking Geralt, who was the one clutching his lapels. Jaskier reached up and pat his hand weakly.
“Only joking,” he rasped, voice rough from coughing. “What’s got you all worked up?”
The witcher looked harrowed, hair falling into his face and eyes wild. Now that he wasn’t so worried about drowning on dirt, Jaskier’s shoulder pulsed with a throbbing pain where he’d been bitten by the giant arachnid that Geralt had been hired to kill. Jaskier had been explicitly told not to come along, and he’d still run into trouble. Geralt was probably pissed.
“They said they’d buried you,” Geralt said. His fingers moved to cradle the back of Jaskier’s head, which was very nice. Maybe Geralt wasn’t angry. It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault that this happened, so he really shouldn’t be anyways, now that Jaskier thought of it. He was going to voice this, but he was very tired, and Geralt’s other hand was warm on his chest. “I thought - Arachas venom is a paralyzing agent, they said you were hit,” Geralt continued. His face was haunted, an expression Jaskier didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “I thought I was too late.”
Jaskier grunted, using Geralt’s arm as an anchor to pull himself into a sitting position. The world swam around him for a moment, but finally settled. Geralt’s hand shifted down to help keep him upright, and Jaskier was grateful for it. “Well, as you can see I did a fine job of managing that crisis on my own,” he said, giving Geralt the best grin he could manage. It probably came off all wrong, stained as his teeth were with dirt, both of them sitting beside Jaskier’s self-desecrated grave. “Sorry you couldn’t be the hero this time.”
Geralt let out a shaky breath, and then Jaskier was being tugged forward into a crushing embrace. It hurt his shoulder frightfully, but Jaskier wasn’t about to protest. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” Geralt said in his ear, soft and vulnerable. Jaskier thought about how close he’d come to not being alright - thought about what it would have been like, to suffocate beneath the earth, Geralt standing over his body knowing he could have stopped it.
Thank the gods for shallow graves.
“I hope you didn’t kill the alderman,” he said, still pressed against Geralt’s neck. The witcher smelled like sharp metal and the sour-sweet smell of his potions. “Though I do expect several people met an unnecessary end by his hands.”
There was a growl against his temple. “I was going to deal with him later,” and the dark tone shouldn’t have made Jaskier feel so fuzzy inside, but it did anyways.
Eventually Geralt pulled away, brushing a bit of dirt from Jaskier’s hair. He spent a long moment just looking over Jaskier’s face, as if double checking that he was still all there. Jaskier gave him a tired smile in response, free of his usual bravado. “If you can stand to hold off the mutilation until morning,” he said wryly, “I’d love a bath.”
Finally Geralt gave him a dry smile, one that said, The situation is much too dire for you to be making jokes, but I’ll allow it. A true act of love, in Jaskier’s opinion. He was nothing without his humor to cope.
Jaskier felt Geralt’s hands shift, and suddenly he was being lifted, bridal style, into Geralt’s arms. Curling into the warmth of his witcher’s chest, Jaskier let himself doze on the way back to the inn. It didn’t necessarily make up for being buried alive, but he could definitely get used to this.
#I have determined that there's no way I can do one of these daily with it being midterms#BUT#I am going to try to post one every other day#again may not hit that mark but I'm just gonna be trying to do my best!#my work#geraskier#geralt of rivia#geralt#geraltxjaskier#jaskier#geralt/jaskier#witcher#the witcher#fanfiction#fan fic#fic#maybe I'll continue doing these in november until I have a month's worth#or make them part of nano idk! we'll see#october2020#whumptober2020#no.4#buried alive#buried#whump#idk if I need to tag this with anything specific?#claustrophobia tw
243 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cracks (Reader x Javier) {MTMF}
Title: Cracks
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3000
Warnings: Therapy
Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in late September 1997.
Summary: Reader goes to therapy.
Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 (more tags in the replies)
You settled into the right side of the sofa, leaning against the arm as your eyes flickered around the room. “You got a new bonsai tree.” You pointed out, pointing to the larger tree that sat beside the smaller one that had previously adorned her table. “I didn’t know they bloomed.”
“It’s an azalea. I have a client who enjoys gifting them to people.” Nancy smiled a little at you. “You should see my house.”
You laughed, pushing your hair behind your ears. “At least it’s something lovely.”
Nancy flipped her notebook open, shuffling through a few pages before making a note. “I thought that today might be a good day to discuss Javier.”
“Oh.” Your brows furrowed together and you shrugged. “Sure.” Honestly, you thought you had covered a lot about him in that first session.
“Your relationship with Javier was rather unconventional, wasn’t it?”
You nodded. “We’ve definitely done things backwards.”
“When did you realize you loved him?”
That was an easy enough question to answer. You still remembered the look on his face when you finally admitted what you both already knew.
“I told him that I loved him the Christmas before Josie was born.”
She shook her head, “Not when you told him. When did you realize?”
Your brows drew together. “Well…” You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip, thinking back over the years. It was hard to pinpoint the precise moment you realized you loved him. “I think I realized I had feelings for him when I was still dating Lance. I would catch myself comparing the two of them. I just assumed it was because I spent most of my time with Javi.”
“But you had another partner too. Did you ever compare Lance with Mr. Murphy?” She questioned, referring to her notes. You watched her as she wrote something down, glancing back at you expectantly.
“No.” You stared down at the ground. “It was always Javier I compared everyone to. But things were complicated back then. He led this life that I knew I didn’t factor into. I just bottled up those feelings and hid them away.”
“And what sort of life is that?”
“Uh, well…” You swallowed thickly. “I’m fairly certain he knew the name of every hooker in Bogotá.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“I didn’t feel anything.” You pushed your fingers through your hair. “Javier was my friend and that was his thing. Trust me, I even encouraged it.”
“Encouraged it?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “We both encouraged each other to have a little fun.” Nights out at the bar with Javier had been some of your favorite memories from Colombia.
“But never with each other?”
“We worked together.” You rubbed at the back of your neck, fluffing your hair. “I was content with just being his friend.”
“You were content?”
“I mean… not always. But it was easier to go home with a stranger, rather than screw up a good thing.” You shrugged. “I know it’s hard to believe, but that was never really a problem for either of us. We were both very supportive of our extracurricular activities.”
“But your opinion changed on that. Didn’t it? What changed?”
“It all happened so fast.” Though, maybe it had been a gradual slide towards something. “Steve left Colombia and I felt like my world was falling apart. I figured it was only a matter of time before Javier left too.” You admitted quietly. Reflecting back on that night, you now understood what you were feeling. You were lost and Javier was the only thing that made sense.
“So you slept with him?”
“I think that oversimplifies it. I think it was more like we both realized that life was short and sometimes it changes fast. Why delay the inevitable?”
“So you believed that your relationship with Javier was inevitable?”
“I believed that we would eventually sleep together, yeah.” You hugged your arms around yourself, feeling exposed to Nancy. “Look, I wanted to stay. I wanted to tell him that I wanted more but… like I said, I knew all about the life he led. He wasn’t the relationship type. He had his hookers and.. I felt like I was no better than a one night stand.”
“But that wasn’t the case. Was it?”
You shook your head slowly. “No. I didn’t know that though. For three months I ran from him. It was fucking unbearable.” You rubbed at your forehead, “To have someone who means the world to you, but you just… you shut them out for your own sanity.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I was afraid.” Your shoulders sank. “I hardly looked at him for three months. And that was a feat. Our desks faced each other. I was fucking terrified that if I looked at him I would see just how little he really cared about me. That I was just some stupid woman that fell into bed with him.”
“Stupid?” Nancy questioned, furiously writing notes. “Why that word choice?”
“Because I felt stupid.” You rubbed at your eyes, sighing heavily. “There was so much love in the way he touched me that night and I just… I assumed it was how he was with everyone. He had a good reputation. Those women loved him. I’m sure I made a few hookers weep when I pulled him off the market.”
“And did he keep up his interactions with them after your relationship began?”
You frowned, sinking back against the sofa as you stared at her. “Yeah. But it was just for work. She was an informant of his. In his defense, we weren’t even together. It happened while I was avoiding him.” You shook your head slowly. “But I think that eats at him. You should ask him about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I know how he felt. We’ve discussed that — all of this. This conversation has come up before. And I know that it’s one of the many things he still dwells on.” He dwelled on a lot of things about the past. Things that couldn’t be changed.
“And why do you think that?”
“I just do.”
“Do you want him to dwell on it?”
“No! I want to move past all of that.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I know you’re trying to find out if I’m jealous, but I’m not.” You told her earnestly. “You can even ask him. When there was this ridiculous rumor about him fucking a student — I knew he never would do that. I didn’t even consider it as truth. He was scared shitless that I would believe it, though. I know he loves me and I know he loves our family. That isn’t something I worry about.”
“Interesting.” She nodded approvingly, turning the page. “What drew you to Javier?”
“Day one... I felt this kinship with him. He really challenged me, which I appreciated. I think I did the same for him.” You rubbed your hands together slowly. “He was a jackass and he was handsome. It was a fatal combination.”
“Fatal?”
“I just mean…” You laughed. “He was definitely my type.”
“You’ve mentioned your previous relationship before. Was he anything like Javier?”
“Complete opposite. He had a terribly dry sense of humor, he was very straight-laced, and physically night and day with Javier.”
“How was your relationship with him?”
“I was bored.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Nearly a year I guess.” It probably said something about you that you didn’t know how long you dated Lance. “We broke up because he wanted me to leave Colombia with him. I couldn’t even picture it. My life was there. I was happy.”
“Was?”
“I am happy.” You assured her. “Javier and the girls are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Nancy nodded her head slowly. “In our first session you mentioned Javier’s guilt. What is it about the way he dwells on things that frustrates you?”
Oh, you hated the way she took everything you said and presented it back to you.
“Javier has convinced himself that he’s not a good guy. There was a lot of shit went down in Colombia. Stuff I can’t really talk about.” People who died, people who were killed. Shit that weighed heavily on both of you. “But he carries a lot of that with him. Constantly.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “And I don’t know how to help him do that. I’ve tried.”
“That didn’t answer my question. Why does that frustrate you?”
You blinked. “Because I know that he’s a good man. He’s an incredible father, the best partner I could ever imagine, and his students adore him despite how hard he is on them. He’s caring, loyal, passionate. He’s always been all in with me. But he lets things get under his skin and eat at him. Anything that goes wrong is instantly his fault. I mean, the garbage disposal could break and somehow he’d rationalize that it's his fault. That he didn’t think of it last week.”
“Why do you think Javier does that?”
“I’m hoping you’ll help him figure that out.”
Nancy’s brows rose upwards as she stared at you. “But this isn’t just about him.”
You dragged your fingers through your hair, sighing heavily. “No, it’s not.” You glanced towards the window, brows furrowed. “I’ve always had this theory… And it’s just a theory.” You glanced back at her then. “His mom died when he was young. Sofía is named after her.”
“I see.”
“I think sometimes that he is overcompensating because he has had such a complicated relationship with women throughout his life. Starting with his mother dying.”
“Why do you think that?”
“This thing we have is the most serious relationship either of us has ever been in. He was engaged once before, back when he was much younger. He left her at the altar.” You grimaced. “I know that there is a part of me that worries that the only reason we ended up in a relationship is because of Josie. That he’s still here because he wants to do right by our girls. But I know that isn’t true. Josie didn’t make us love each other, we already loved each other. She was just the linchpin that made us own up to it.”
“So why the worry?”
“Because I still catch myself feeling like that stupid girl who did the walk of shame out of the apartment of the man she loved. Who felt stupid for weeks and months, even after things were good between us.” You covered your face then. “I think I’m still waiting for the day that he leaves me at the proverbial altar.”
“And how long have you been together?”
“Five years.”
“Has he ever given you a reason to think he’s going to leave you?”
You shook your head. “My only reasons for even thinking that it could happen are my own. He is incredibly committed to our family. He’d do anything for us.”
“Then why do you feel that way?”
You wiped away a tear as it slid down your cheek. “Because I love him and I don’t want to lose him. We have been through so much. And frankly…” You laughed softly. “The thought of doing any of this on my own makes me sick to my stomach. He keeps me grounded. And he has for ten years.”
Nancy nodded slowly. “Why do you think you both struggle to communicate?”
“Because we both want to protect each other.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “And sometimes we are protecting each other from ourselves.”
“An astute observation.” She took a few more notes before closing her notebook and leaning back in her chair. “I think we made progress today.”
“I thought we’d talk more about me.” You admitted, wringing your hands together.
“Is there something that’s on your mind?”
“Not really,” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, brows furrowed. “But you’re right. I felt like I made progress this week.”
Nancy opened her notebook again and wrote something down. “And why do you think that is?”
“Well, writing things down has really helped. It’s nice to have something to reflect on when I feel like everything is falling apart. I mean, I couldn’t get Sofía to settle at all on Thursday. I ended up having to pump because she refused to latch on.” You frowned at the memory. “I felt like shit. But I looked back on Monday and Tuesday which were really good days.”
“You’re not going to have an overnight success. You went through a deeply traumatic experience.” Nancy reminded you with an even voice. “What you’re going through is understandable. We’re going to work together to give you the tools to overcome this.”
“Also,” You laughed with a roll of your eyes. “Javier wanted to make sure I told you that he’s doing his homework.”
“And how has that helped you?” Nancy arched a brow.
You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to ignore the way you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s not even about the sex. It’s the closeness I crave. The attention.” You laughed nervously. “So thank you for encouraging him to do whatever you encouraged him to do.”
“Intimacy is a vital part of a relationship.” Nancy explained, “Even if it is as simple as holding hands. It keeps you connected to each other. Keep working on that until your next session. Focus on documenting the good things that happen.”
———
“How did it go?” Javier questioned as you slid into the passenger seat.
“I think it went well.” You shrugged, glancing into the backseat. “Did you have fun at preschool today, Josie?”
“We did some math today.” She told you with a grimace.
“She had an issue.” Javier explained, reaching over to give your leg a squeeze.
“Oh no. What happened, sweetheart?”
“They had us counting with candy!” Josie said excitedly, though her expression faltered. “She had us subtractate-“
“Subtract.” You corrected
“Subtract three candies.” She stared down at her hands bashfully. “And when she said to put one back I couldn’t.”
Javier whispered, “She ate them.”
You snorted, trying to keep composed. “And then what happened?”
“I cried.”
“I had to talk to the teacher. It’s fine.” He assured you.
“Did she say you could eat the candies?”
“She didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Javier chuckled, rubbing his thumb over your leg. “She’s your daughter.”
“Always looking for a loophole.” You shrugged. “That’s okay Josie. It happens.”
“I know mommy.” Josie pursed her lips, looking rather dejected about the whole thing.
You reached back and gave her hand a squeeze. “Now you know not to eat them in the future.”
She nodded her head and clasped her hands around your hand. “I told sissy not to eat the candies when she goes to school too.”
“And what did she say?”
“She just stared at me.” Josie looked at her sister, brows furrowed. “She doesn’t like to talk yet.”
“That’s because she’s a little baby, JoJo.” Javier told her, looking back at them in the rearview mirror. “Remember what we talked about?”
“I remember.”
“What did you talk about?” You questioned, settling back against your seat as you looked at Javier.
“Josie was very disappointed that Sofía wasn’t fun. She’s used to Olivia and Emily. So we had a nice conversation about how she’s the big sister and she has to help us take care of Sofía until she’s bigger.”
“Daddy said sissy is like a puppy and I’m a big dog.”
“You called our daughter a puppy?” You slapped his leg playfully.
“I had to use terms she understood.”
You scrunched up your nose, “I suppose that’s excusable.”
As Javier slowed down for a stoplight, he reached over and took your hand into his, interlacing your fingers. “Did you tell her I was doing my homework.”
You squeezed his hand and laughed. “Seriously?” You grinned at him. “Don’t worry it was discussed. In fact, you were the topic of most of the session.”
“I was?” His brows drew together.
You nodded your head slowly, “You were indeed.”
Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” You reassured him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “It helped me realize some stuff. Crap I’ve been holding onto for too long.” He definitely wasn’t the only one who hauled around shit from the past. “I think we’re going to come out of this better than before.”
“I hope so.” Javier squeezed your hand three short pulses, before he had to let go to drive the car. “How does ice cream sound?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” You grinned, reaching over to steal the aviators off his face, leaning across the center console to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Thief.”
“And proud.” You said smugly, pushing the glasses up the bridge of your nose.
You definitely had worries about your relationship, worries that you had neatly compartmentalized and tried to pretend them away. And maybe that showed. Maybe that was why it was so easy for Javier to believe you were done with your relationship, because he’d seen the cracks in the facade along the way.
You had always prided yourself on believing that you didn’t hide anything from Javier, but the truth was you were hiding things from yourself.
162 notes
·
View notes
Note
DADW “Big damn kiss” plus “Holiday Fic” ; Pairing of your choice!
Here’s some Fenders for @dadrunkwriting!
It was a Satinalia party at Hawke’s place, and Anders had a plan.
He made many, many plans over the weeks, ever since he realized that his ‘just a friend’ gazing at Fenris had slowly transformed into pining glances when the man wasn’t looking. And normally Anders would let these things pass. All things passed, even ill-advised crushes on beautiful men, but Fenris was... different. Special, in a way that Anders couldn’t quite wrap his mind around just yet, but he knew that Fenris was someone he’d regret missing out on. So he wasn’t going to miss out.
He had a plan, after all.
The first step was acknowledging his feelings. Yep. Did that. Anders already had his crisis of realizing that the elvhen guy that Hawke would invite out for drinks with the crew was super hot and super annoying. Then Anders learned that his name was Fenris, he hailed from Tevinter, spoke multiple languages fluently, and he was a librarian. Not like any librarian Anders had ever seen, of course. It was the tattoos, the undercut hair, the scowl, the Maker damned six-pack of abs and thighs that could crush a watermelon- everything about Fenris was a surprise. And then he opened his mouth and was irritatingly observant, caustically vicious and humorous in turns, and he always kept Anders unbalanced when they argued.
So they fought. A lot. And then the fighting turned into arguing, turned to debates, turned to them agreeing about something for once and then they were seeking each other out for arguments, each of them bringing a stack of primary and secondary sources to back their claims. Sometimes Merrill joined in, but she was freakishly good at citing sources from her own memory (”Oh, that’s Genitivi’s Travels in Tevinter... Chapter Seven, I think. Fenris, you have a copy on your phone, check it for me?”) and tended to win if she got involved. But the debates became friendly, became “tell me your thoughts,” and soon enough Anders was shoving his dissertation on Mage rights during the Dragon Age into Fenris’ face, and Fenris was editing it, wielding a red pen like a sword, and somehow they just fit together until Hawke was calling them “Anders and Fenris” and “Fenris and Anders.” A unit. A couple.
And then two weeks ago Fenris was laughing about something Merrill said about Tevinter statuary (”They all look so grim, Fenris, did the ancient Tevene’s not know how to smile?!”), and Anders looked, and the light was hitting his eyes and Fenris’ smile was so lovely it knocked the wind out of him, and all Anders wanted to do was take Fenris’ gorgeous face in his hands and kiss him senseless.
So. Anders knew what he was feeling. He knew what he wanted. He accepted it ages ago. So now he moved on to step two. Confession. That was harder, of course, but Anders was undaunted. All he had to do was tell Fenris how he felt, right? Let it all out, tell him everything, kiss him if he was accepted, apologize for bothering him and letting him be if he was rejected. He just had to find a private place, tell Fenris that he liked him romantically, and let what would happen happen. He could do this!
So. Satinalia party at Hawke’s. Anders took a sip of the mulled wine in his coffee mug and looked over the crowd of guests, searching for pale hair and beautiful eyes. He didn’t see Fenris, though, and Anders wondered if they managed to just miss each other or something.
“Oh, Anders! Are you looking for Fenris? I’m surprised you didn’t come together!” Merrill exclaimed as she passed him in the hallway.
“Late hours at the clinic, sorry,” Anders explained. “You look... nice.”
“I knitted tinsel garlands into a sweater,” Merrill confided. “It’s so itchy that I had to put another sweater on underneath it. Fenris is in the kitchen, by the way.”
“Thanks, Merrill,” Anders replied. “Let me just get him before he breaks into the tequila or something.” He said the last part as a joke. Fenris was famously picky about his alcohol. Picky in general, really, but that was just one of his charms. Anders took a deep breath and pushed past partygoers towards the empty kitchen.
Fenris was standing by the sink, hip pressed against the countertop as he stared out the window to the street below. The street that Anders had just parked on. Had he watched him as he waddled through the snow and up to Hawke’s door?
“Was wondering when you’d come in and say hello,” Fenris teased, voice dry and smile in his eyes, and Anders fell just a little harder for the man.
“Hawke shoved this mug in my hands and told me to have fun,” Anders replied, joining Fenris by the counter. “Having fun, Fenris?”
“Too many people and very little good conversation,” he said. “Prospects are looking better now.”
“Glad to be of service,” Anders laughed, and Fenris’ small grin was a wonder to behold. “You look good.”
“New sweater. Isabela insisted,” he explained, and while Fenris looked calm and unconcerned Anders noticed how Fenris’ fingers kept picking at the hem of his dark teal sweater.
“Isabela?” Anders asked.
“She has a... theory,” Fenris said, which was frustratingly vague. Fenris shrugged and reached out his hand for Anders’ mug. Anders handed it over, and Fenris instantly downed the mulled wine before setting the mug down on the counter with a heavy thud.
“Hey!” Anders protested. “I was enjoying that!”
“I’ll get you more in a moment,” Fenris replied, and he grabbed the collar of Anders’ shirt and pulled him forward and down, lips colliding in a fierce, firm kiss. It was clumsy, noses awkwardly bumping into each other, and it took a moment for Anders to regain his footing. But soon enough he gathered enough of his senses to realize that this was real, that Fenris was kissing him, and he stepped closer, pressing himself against Fenris, dropping one hand to grip his hip while cupping Fenris’ face in the other. He tasted like wine and mulling spices, cinnamon and anise and nutmeg, and Anders wondered if he could drown in kisses.
“Maker’s Breath,” Anders whispered when Fenris pulled away from him. “I- fucking Fade, Fenris.”
“You’re welcome,” Fenris said smugly. “We should have done this sooner.”
“Nothing’s stopping us from doing it again, you know,” Anders pointed out. Fenris laughed, twined his arms around Anders’ waist, and pulled him close again.
“One more, and we go out with the others and spend time with them,” Fenris said, his voice firm, and he kissed Anders again. And again. And Anders kissed Fenris back for good measure.
“I’m a little in love with you,” Anders whispered. “Just so you know.”
“Good,” Fenris replied. “I’m more than a little in love with you, Anders.” He took Anders’ hand and led him out of the kitchen, into the living room and the rest of the party.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hunter x Reader
A/N: What nobody asked for. I didn’t think a title would be appropriate for this particular piece of work. It really doesn’t coincide with any Star Wars themes, save for everybody’s favorite Sergeant making his debut within. It’s more of a Lil perspective. (Lol I’m sorry my last two brain cells have no sense of humor) For context: I have been absolutely suffocating lately, in every sense of the word. It’s almost indescribably oppressive, so I wrote this in desperately seeking comfort and therapy. Just a fragmented depiction, addresses underlying mental health issues and sensory disorders—in carrying my own subtle semblance of it, I love exploring those complexities with Hunter. It turns out soft. I think. Also, if you squint hard enough, you will see some song lyrics scattered throughout the fic in the form of thoughts. I wrote this in the format of Reader, though it’s practically a self-insert, I’m just not brave enough for those particular pronouns. :) Sorry in advance if this doesn’t apply to you...
▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️▫️▪️
Isn’t anyone trying to find me... Won’t somebody come take me home...
The silence was prodding. Hunter’s gaze darted to your tense form numerous times over the span of several painfully long, anticipating minutes. Each time, your lips remained pulled into a tight line while your extremities fidgeted in repetition. Agitation hung thick in the air. A terse statement of Y/N’s mystics echoed off the walls, to no-one in particular.
“I think... I’ve been gone for a long time.”
Hunter’s eyes incredulously searched you. “What do you mean?”
You see me standing, but I’m dying on the floor...
Your fists reflexively clench in grabbing at any semblance of weight to prevent your form from being dragged down into the mental abyss. You could feel it’s foreboding pull. It’s impending chaos.
It’s coming.
“Talk to me, Y/N...”
Your grip slackens, and you slip right over the edge. Hunter is too late to grab you.
I only want to die alive...
Your broken, unbridled guttural cries in response to the months of overwhelming emotional suppression caused Hunter to wince, and his own sensory receptors gain enough momentum to inwardly complain. He instinctively stuffs it down before kicking into action.
“Hey, Y/N, I’m here—”
Electric. The touch. His touch. It pricked, and the very fine hairs adorning the skin along your arms instantly retaliated to the calloused padding of Hunter’s fingertips caressing. It exacerbated your state of distress and just like that, your neurons overloaded. Sharp, stale air seeped in between your grit teeth and inhalation of insecurity.
Your sudden intake of breath and harsh flinch caused Hunter to cease in brushing up and down the outer region of your upper arms. His eyes narrowed slightly and quickly picked apart your stance. It greeted him like an old adversary with the remnants of a longstanding history, and a discomfiture swirled around Hunter at it’s painful familiarity.
“I can’t do this...” You breathe out despair.
The existing in general? The physical connection itself?
The latter wasn’t your fault. But it sure as hell felt like it. It certainly wasn’t his fault. Thankfully, somehow, the glint in Hunter’s shifting irises reassured you that he was privy to your suffering, to some degree; he knew. He understood.
Of course he did.
For who to better understand heightened tactile sensitivity than Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99? He was neither confounded nor dissuaded by your particularity in the slightest.
It had always been an inherence of yours; a rather obnoxious caricature within the conundrum, some obscure accessory buried in your already heavily packed bags. An extra ingredient that completely screwed up the recipe. Constituted as awkward, plain and simple; the dramatized detail never became easier to address with age, and the thick lump of disdain in your throat only grew.
You set your jaw in frustration. How to even begin picking up and putting together the pieces of a person who’s constantly missing one, or several. You were never satiated, equanimity never extended it’s stay for long; simply just renting. There was always something, someone, leaving a smoking hole in your chest, forcing every euphoric guest out.
I seek to cure what’s deep inside... frightened of this thing that I’ve become...
Your features twisted in agony and discomfort that accompanied the stoked episodes. It made you bitter. It threw you to the streets and dubbed you a martyr before satirically exposing, taunting at the misfortune of your dealt deck of cards. It was downright embarrassing, obtruding. Trepidations instantaneously trampled your meager, sensory overloaded form each and every time. Your bitter, corrosive laugh was all the evidence in that moment; a feeble reminder of your hypocrisy.
Because how, pray tell, does one’s physicality simultaneously experience both a revulsion for tactility and desperate craving for touch itself? You never understood exactly the way the two collided and contradicted themselves. Your teeth clamped your tongue in quelling the deprivation and plea for more rising in your throat, while your neurons worked to whisk your form as far away from the man as possible—away to the repetition of obsolete emptiness and desolation awaiting to greet you. As always.
“Let me help, cyare.” Begging... the man was hurting for you.
Don’t want to say yes, don’t want to say no...
Your mind ached. You can’t stop the pendulum in your head. Forced to look through a kaleidoscope of melancholy. Pleas echoed in a cavernous empty shell, but fell on deaf ears. Tears cancelled their appointment, and the well currently ran dry. There was... nothingness. And you fought the growing complaisance with the notion. Numbness was terrifying, and being terrified was numbing. You didn’t do well with attitudinal changes, seeking restitution more than ever while you wholly acknowledged the aspect of a ginger touch; the literal power within one’s fingertips to effectively mitigate your suffering. An opportune moment standing before you, his brows furrowed in sympathy and the corner of his lips angled in assuring you of his patience.
But the sharp pang and quick successions of staccato rhythm reverberated deep in your chest and only exaggerated your pain. Curse your heavy heart. A huff of breath incited subtle movement in the loose strands hanging over your profile, to which Hunter borrowed a moment in reaching out to sweep the curtain back.
Your head was under water, yet... you were breathing just fine. You just had yet to find the damned drain to expel the pernicious and suffocating sea of psychological terror into.
I just need to clear my head... don’t let it go to your head...
You quiver under Hunter’s intense appraisal, and shame swirls thickly. “I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t be. Please.” He immediately interjects, his palm turns upright and opens invitingly. “I’m here. Tell me what you need.”
Just tell him what you need.
“I... I don’t know.” Your admission speaks in a whisper of loss and uncertainty. You roll the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth, the lump returns to your throat, and it’s crawling. Your gaze flickers.
“Just focus on me, cyare.”
Another catch: you can’t maintain eye contact to save your life. Kriff your soul. “That won’t work.” Your eyes anchor to the cold floor as sheer panic and the sturdy walls themself began to rise around your trembling self.
I can’t come alive... I want the room to take me under... Feel myself fading away...
“Okay—it’s okay,” he soothes. Hunter fervently wracks his brain—the way he decompresses and approaches his own form of stimming is slightly different; it’s different for everybody with a hyperactive response to stimuli. It took the Sergeant years to cultivate those particular penchants and even longer to tailor and perfect them to his predilection. If anything, he felt slightly apprehensive in the success of his methods.
Your hands that now wrap tightly around your rigid form are currently the only familiar pair of hands granted permission to access the area. You give a brief squeeze and teeter on the balls of your feet.
Hunter didn’t require a sniper’s nonpareil eyesight to see right through your peculiarity, even if he was briefly taken aback at it’s sudden effervescing. Truthfully, he should’ve picked up on it days ago: at your fierce denial and subtle panic over Hunter’s harmless offer of a massage after you had worked out a particularly stubborn knot kinking his lower back—a simple requite of mutuality, or so he thought. At the time, the Sergeant found himself shrouded in enigma over your reaction; seriously, who—other than him who barely tolerates it—doesn’t enjoy massages? It now made perfect sense. He fought the urge to self-deprecate over his ignorance.
“I’m suffocating, Hunter.” You choke, and the cadence of your voice is like a knife twisting into his heart; he gleans vicarious pain from your own.
Clarity suddenly lights up the Sergeant’s features, and you’re briefly hyper-fixated with the way the inky but slightly faded outline of his shadowy tattoo fluctuates in natural contortion with his many facial expressions. Just behind his eyes he beholds his brothers—
‘I’m suffocating, ori’vod’...
Hunter remembers...
Of the exact way he presses against Tech in order to smother his vod’ika’s fleeting bouts of anxiousness—the pressure nearly breaking the kid’s goggles on more than one occasion, and the way he compresses Crosshair’s shoulders in squeezing out the pent up anger to placate amidst the sniper’s wavering, and the position of which Hunter managed to encompass his brawny brother in a comforting embrace whenever the big guy experienced despondency—that is until Wrecker quickly outgrew his ori’vod and began flaunting his own prowess of overpowering hugs.
The difference between the scenarios was minimal. Hunter knew exactly what to do. Like second-nature to him, his nurturing instincts fully kicked in and determination spread through every fiber of his being, quashing the previous buzz of his own nerves.
Hunter didn’t know how well he could alleviate your emotional pain, but there was something he could do for the neurological aspect, and hopefully, one could ease the other...
Hunter ambles up to you and in one swift motion, secures the length of his arms around your upper back, noting the delineate contour of toned muscles and shoulder blades poking into his forearms that now drape across before his hands encircle and come to firmly rest on each shoulder. Firmness. Pressure—for your state, this depiction is key. He determinedly pulls you to him, unrelenting in a tight grip. The position of the crown of your head settled neatly under his chin, and stray hair peppered his textured features with tickling kisses as Hunter dips his head to softly press his lips to your roots.
I wish that I could bring you back to me...
With your face suddenly buried in the man’s chest, you come to distinctly acknowledge two immediate sensations. One; the man is warm. Not the muggy, stuffy warmth of Tatooine that is unpleasantly abrasive and dry; but a soft warmth that permeates, stoking memories of baked goods within the cushion of a heated oven warmly enveloping you each time it’s doors open, and seeking to melt the hardened encasing that is your tense muscles. It eases you towards a serenity. You have a ways to go before you can make out the sign in the distance, but Hunter himself is one step forward along the path.
Two; he smells amazing. A faint smoky sultry, an obscurely mesquite scent, slightly tangy and reminiscent of raw timber that is both luxurious and intoxicating; a sweet smell you’d classify as anything but cloying. Like he bathes with suds of fresh mountain air and luscious forests. It’s soothing, and your mind immediately associates the tangibility with a daydream and mercifully blesses you with the glimpse; of your husband having just entered your cozy homestead from a day of hard but fruitful labor in his intricate works of carpentry within the serene seclusion of temperate countryside enveloping your favorite planet—
Handle with care... say you’ll be there...
“Whatcha thinkin’ about, cyare—is this okay?” Hunter momentarily shifts and the rich baritone of the Sergeant’s voice resounding through his broad chest reels you back while he briefly tenses at your pending answer.
It was okay—your head was still swimming in an infinitely deep ocean of thoughts, but the way his hand slips from it’s position on your shoulder to cradle the back of your head before curling around the soft locks equates to the physical manifestation of a life preserver cast to your drowning form.
Your muffled confirmation and sheepish thanks warmly enveloped Hunter, as did your hands shifting to wrap around his broad frame in reciprocation. His grip tightened, and he patiently waits for you.
Hold.... Hold on... Hold on to me, ‘cause I’m a little unsteady...
Hunter refrains from trailing to stroke further along your back; the sneaking suspicion that the sensation might further tip off your nerves. So he remained stationary, and deciphered the way you seemingly favored a firm, weighted grasp and a grounding touch over ghosting fingertips and light, feathery textures. He could relate to that.
But Hunter couldn’t stop the hum of contentment that escaped his lips at your fingers having absentmindedly wandered up to twirl at his ebony tresses. He, personally, loved your soft, well-placed strokes full of deliberation and meaning, and only you were allowed to grace him with them.
Hunter could feel your heart hammering against the veil of his blacks, and his ears hearkened to the rhythm of your burdened breaths. He shifted his weight and began to gently sway with you, unsure of the words to say.
“I should’ve told you earlier,” your conscience suddenly prods.
A snort fills the air. “Oh, I would’ve figured it out soon enough. I’m kinda smart like that,” Hunter cringes at his corny sense of humor, but he swore the faintest of chortles rumbled beneath him.
He grants a final squeeze to your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive areas along your arms, before pulling back to address your face. Trouble and distress still graced you, and Hunter laced his fingers with your own. He thumbed at the worn flesh encasing your defined knuckles, a relic indicative of steadfast manual labor. You slowly exhaled at the touch; pressure along the palms and backside of your hands was soothing to you. You often wrung them to keep preoccupied when there was no warmth to solidify the muscle, fingertips drummed erratic tempos along your thighs whenever the mood struck, and loud cracking of the stiff joints in transient tics was a regularly becoming thing.
Take me by the hand, take me somewhere new...
Hunter tugged lightly in ushering you to the cot, firmly planting himself on the worn, creaking edge before his gaze met yours in awaiting approval. If he blinked, he would’ve missed the barely perceptible nod of your head in confirmation. Hunter leaned back on his full weight in gesturing you with him, and your form followed suit as you found yourself abruptly layered directly atop the rugged plains of his chest. The quirk of his lips told you he didn’t mind being used as a body pillow. Hunter’s arms suddenly turned up empty to rest above his head.
“I want you to be comfortable. No brushing. Just tell me where to put my hands.” He clarified, and appreciation bubbled in your chest. You contemplated for a moment.
“Just... hold me close.” You began to guide his hands to the exact position. “Please.”
His limbs obeyed by wrapping snugly as a hand found rest at the small of your back, and the other nestled itself slightly higher up the expanse, fingers splayed. Hunter solidified the closed space, and not even a muted ray of light could pass between the two forms.
You found solace within the cage of well-endowed muscle, slowly suppressing your nerves on each side and physically shielding you from the works of mental oppression. But his touch left you hyperaware; from an overtly suffocating insecurity towards every part of your body now lingering against his own, to the precise and tranquil thrum of his heartbeat in contrast with your racing one. Your stimuli sparks again in response to the stress.
“Y/N.” Hunter cuts through your tension, his voice laced with concern—you cannot calm yourself down, and you’re certain your mind absolutely loathes you. “Everything will be alright, I promise—don’t tense up, baby. Relax against me.” You angle your head so that one side of your face plants to his chest; you wish to better hear his sturdy heartbeat. You suddenly remember your own. It’s still beating. Resounding; indicative of purpose. Your breaths; symbolizing life.
Just keep breathing... my air...
“That’s it. Just breathe.” Hunter encourages. He reaches up to press against your temple in stroking at the hairline. Unbound locks cascaded around each other, a mixture of two colors softly tangled on either sides of the furniture. You lost count of your numbered breaths in the midst of solitude when a question unveils from your thoughts.
“How do you do it?” Your words trump the stagnant silence, a desperate inquiry that peaks through the fibers. You tilt your chin to better regard the man.
Confusion tugs at the corner of Hunter’s lips. “Do, what?”
“Anything...” you unload, and there’s a crackle to your voice. “The stress, the sensory... how do you manage? What’s your anchor in this wretched, kriffing life?”
A smile creeps up Hunter’s features, and his deep, reflective pools burn through you. “I’m looking at my anchor. And she helps me manage just fine.”
Your eyes blow protuberant and you manage to stare at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“Honey, you are it.” His satisfied smirk grows wider, digging into his cheeks.
Something twitches at the corners of your lip and pulls into an upward curve; the feeling is tight, foreign. Your cheek muscles are unsure of how to compensate for the expression. You can’t remember the last time a smile has naturally graced your features. Now, it’s genuine. It’s... nice, and the hot rivulets currently streaming down your face are in a unanimous agreement.
Hunter moves to cup your face and thumb below your eyes, and his lips kiss the salt away. You grab hold of his forearms and shut your eyes.
“You want to know how I manage?” He croons in determination, “When my visual is overstimulated, I close my eyes and focus on the features of your face ingrained in my memory. When certain auditory has me weak at the knees, I remember the lull of your voice, comforting. When my nerves are on fire and I want nothing more than to be physically desensitized, it’s your soft touch that acts as a blanket, covering, making it easier for me. You make it better. Me better. Life better.” Hunter finishes his declaration in lovingly swiping at your face once more, expunging your pain. Words make a prompt exit along with it.
Your lips find purchase at the stubble along his jaw, in response. You love being able to fully make out the intricacy of his irises, now that you’re lovingly gazing into them. When you exit your captivated trance—his eyes are beautiful—you vaguely note with a twinge of pride that the encounter was indefinitely your longest standing record for maintaining eye contact. Another gentle smile fills your features. You remove your weight from him.
“Take this off?” You shyly tug at the collar of his blacks, seeking his consent, respectful of his own sensory receptors and their boundaries.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Hunter sits to quickly shed the upper article of clothing. He pulls you on top once again, and you are relishing in his bare skin. Your fingers map out a path of their own volition along the various textures and scars dotting the pectoral flesh.
“You never told me what you were thinking about earlier,” Hunter nonchalantly called you out. Your brows furrow in confusion. “There was something different on your face when I first held you. Just a flicker. But you looked... happy. Content, even.” Hunter smirked. “Hope you’re not planning to keep all that happiness to yourself.”
You certainly weren’t planning to. You recalled the picturesque and beckoned it forth... there was your sign of serenity. Just the shape of it, but solid, and clear. Hopeful, and promising, just on the horizon. It made your chest flutter, and ebbed away at the heartache. You realized Hunter’s brow arched in anticipation.
“How would you feel about working in carpentry?” A chuckle. Hunter was thoroughly humored, and surprisal was briefly evident on his features.
“So I can build you and I a house? To fill a bunch of babies with? Gladly.” He chased the daydream alongside you, and it was your turn to borrow the surprise; your mouth hung agape as heat crept through the apples of your cheeks. Hunter’s laugh boomed as a hand fit under your chin to close your parted lips. He wished to use his own to do the trick, but, another time.
“I’m with you.”
#The Bad Batch#Hunter#Hunter X Self#I don’t know what to tag this as.#I just want to be comforted by Hunter#oop I may be sobbing now#but it... feels better#it’s a Lil thing
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
not too far away - s.m. (part six)
a/n: where a fun day quickly turns sour after one question
warnings: 6.6k words of reader meeting her past, slightly frustrated shawn, and more slight angst
VI. bed of roses
her
It was the next morning and it was around fifty-six degrees outside. You were sat in a very ugly orange cushioned chair at a table tucked into the back of the breakfast diner. It was full of chattering people, who were enjoying the morning spring day with a plate of the best breakfast in the city. You were scanning the three-page thick menu though you knew you probably were going to settle for the same thing you always did; two fluffy pancakes with maple syrup and a side of hash browns.
Sighing loudly, placing the menu back on the table as you looked up towards Demi who sat across from you currently leaned back in her chair eyeing the male waiter with a perky butt who was serving the next table over. Her long black hair was as straight as a pin over her shoulders and her face was pulled up and sculpted with her makeup. She was only dressed in a pair of black jeans, a jean jacket, and a small revealing top underneath but even when dressed casually she still made you want to sink down into your chair to hide that you were the person who was probably being compared to her at the moment. She was a curvy beauty who could get any person she wanted and even though you were only out for brunch, you still tugged at the back of your small ponytail subconsciously.
Smoothing your hands over your jeans, you made a small grunt which brought her warm brown eyes back towards you, “He’s really cute!”
You smirked, “Really? Him or just his ass.”
Her mouth fell at your comment and let out a dry chuckle but smiled nonetheless at your cheekiness and how right you were, “Both, but I can’t deny that he has one delicious bottom.”
You laughed as her eyes followed the waiter who passed the table in the direction to head back to the kitchen. As soon as he was gone her eyes moved back towards you. “You ready to order?”
You nodded as she began to flag down your waitress as you fell back into your seat and let out a small unsatisfied sound, “Dem, why are we here?”
She didn’t spare you a glance as she continued to look for the waitress, “To eat of course. They have great food and you need a lot of it. Your healthy and out of treatment and still are looking like a twig. We need to buff you up and this is our place so why not.”
Rolling her eyes at the sense of humor she decided to display you began to pick at the corner of the menu. Ever since you came to the city this is where you and Demi would always eat, even when you were still in treatment. You loved the food, the sounds that filled the small building, the smells, and just the vibe of the whole place. It was one of the few places you found comfort through the tough times and it was almost unbearable when you had to cancel brunches or breakfast times because you were in the hospital, again. Of course, you still loved the building all the same but it just felt weird being back, healthy as can be.
“Dem,” you choked out as she turned and offered you a big smile.
“Plus, I’ve missed you. I feel like we haven’t had a lot of time to talk because of school and you being home. I just missed this is all,” she was nothing but sweet and made your heart soar at the friendship you shared.
You smiled, “I missed you too, Dem.”
With that, she had finally managed to get the waitress’s attention and ordered for the both of you, your usual of course. As you waited for the food, Demi had switched the topic back to you and the time you were spending at home.
“So how have things been at the house? And with Shawn?” she asked cautiously a sly grin starting to form in the corners of her pink lips.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the question you knew was going to come up considering you were finally sat in front of her face to face but now also adorned in one of Shawn’s hoodies. “Now I know why you wanted to see me. You just want to hear everything that’s been going on with him.”
“Well duh, I don’t know why else I would have taken you here. It’s all about Shawn,” she played along laughter lacing with her words.
The smile on your face only grew at the mention of the curly haired twenty year old, “Uh, yeah. He’s been good. Things have been good. I’m actually seeing him again tonight.”
“Really and what’s the plan then? Mendes game night, family dinner, Harry Potter marathon?” she teased taking a sip from the coffee sat in front of her.
“Actually, he said he has something to show me here in the city,” you explained.
Her eyes widened slightly before she leaned closer over the table, “You don’t think it’s a date do you?”
You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you thought she sounded, “A date? Please, we’ve been friends longer than I’ve known how to spell.”
“You sure?” Demi challenged.
“Yes, I’m sure,” you confirmed.
“Well,” she paused eyes roaming anywhere but you for the seconds she asked this question, “Have you told him yet?”
You grunted in annoyance, “It’s the same answer as the last time you asked, Dem.”
Demi raised an eyebrow at you as her lips formed into a scowl as if she was a mother and you were her child and she was scolding you for stealing a cookie before dinner. You sighed again, “It’s like we’re in our own little happy pink bubble and I just don’t want to pop it and be forced back to reality yet where he is this big pop star who’s going to go back to pretending I don’t exist. Is that so bad?”
She shook her head as you began to fiddle your thumbs in your lap, “Of course not but we both know Shawn would never do that. It’s just I always think it’s better to get the truth out before things manage to get worse.”
“I know,” you mumbled nodding in agreement as the waitress appeared with two plates of food in her hands. She stopped at your table and placed one in front of each of you, yours the fluffy pancakes, her’s the Belgium waffles with avocado toast.
After that, you went back to talking about anything but that. She had been telling you the same thing over and over and she knew that you got the point and wasn’t going to push it onto you anymore. You and Demi had stayed at the diner for around another hour after you ate and then had a brief hug goodbye where Demi ordered you to tell her about everything with Shawn later. Then with a wink, she went skipping down the sidewalk giggling to herself because by the end of the meal she had gotten bubble butt waiter’s number and you both knew very well she intended to use it.
You had taken an Uber back to your apartment where you had crashed on your couch and fell asleep instantly. It was about a two-hour nap, and you had woken up feeling drowsy and dazed. You were met with your phone screen lit up next to your head and with it being the only light in the whole apartment from the curtains being closed you picked it up. Shawn’s name appeared on the screen and you couldn’t help the jump of excitement as you read it. He had texted you the details for when you’d meet up with him later.
He typed, “Coffee spot. 6:00. See you there!;)”
“Are we just meeting there or are we getting coffee?” you texted back.
Almost immediately your phone buzzed in your hand with a response, “If you want coffee we’ll get coffee but I already have a plan for dinner.”
You questioned him, “which is?”
Buzz. “that’s for me to know and you to find out.”
You groaned out loud at the fact this wasn’t anything new. Shawn and his surprises. “Ugh, fine. But can you at least tell me what I should wear?”
Locking your phone, you sat up from the couch and stumbled your way across the room towards your windows. You pulled back the curtains and the late afternoon light streamed in momentarily blinding you. Squinting at the busy streets, you walked back towards the couch and picked up your phone at hearing it vibrate against the cushions. “Anything, as long as you’re comfortable. I promise no fancy restaurants:)”
Oh god what was this boy up to, you asked yourself before typing out a small okay and slipping the phone into your back pocket. It was only around two o’clock and you had time to waste, so you pulled on your light coat and grabbed your purse. Locking the door behind you, you walked out with one place in mind to go.
The building was old and creaked whenever the front door opened giving off the fact that another customer had arrived along with the bell that jingled above the door. You had hurried inside out of the chilly breeze cringing at the familiar sound of the door scraping against the uneven wooden floor. The warmth from the old heater brushed against your flushed cheeks and instantly you were met with the same smell that filled the shelves that ran up to the ceiling. It smelt of pumpkin, like it always did despite it not being fall anymore, and books. Old and new all stacked and scattered across the brick building. They filled the walls up and up until they hit the ceiling and there were velvet chairs that were scattered around within each corner. You hoped your favorite was still sat in your little hiding spot. A green velvet chair that’s spring would make a noise every time you shifted positions or moved. The spot was located in the very back of the book shop where your favorite author was. Light bulbs hang along the cracked ceiling creating a soft glow and as your eyes spotted the front desk you could see it was still decked out in knick-knacks and homemade lotions.
Yes, this was your other place of solitude during the long sick days when you were allowed to escape the hospital bed for a little while. You would come in here and settle in your corner getting lost in the many books that surrounded you and your blurred state. For a little while almost every day you were given the chance to be put into another world where you weren’t the sick girl who appeared to be dying. It was the best feeling there was.
The desk looked empty with no one stood behind and decided you would wait a few seconds before you rang the small silver bell on the counter but never got the chance as loud barks filled the room. A familiar mutt had emerged from the back room running to your feet. He was a long stout beagle with big floppy ears and a tongue that hung out of his mouth most days. You instantly dropped to your knees, hands going towards those floppy ears. “Oh, Lou. Sweet boy. Yes, I’ve missed you too.”
You giggled as he leaped at your knees trying desperately to lick at your face clearly as happy to see you as you were to see him. That’s when you heard footsteps emerging from the back room and an all too familiar voice.
“Lou, boy, leave that poor customer alon-”
The ladies voice stopped mid-sentence as she took in your crouched form, hands gliding along the beagle’s head. The stack of books in her hands instantly dropped to the floor and her mouth fell in shock at the sight of you. You stood from the floor and smiled towards the older lady, “Hi.”
“Y/N, oh my goodness,” the lady quickly crossed the room and pulled you into a tight hug.
You smiled at the familiarness and held her just as tight, if not more, “Hi, Loretta.”
“Oh, beautiful girl, it’s been too long,” she sighed happily pulling away to take in how you looked. Her hand brushed a small piece of hair off your cheek as she struggled to hide her tears.
“I know and I’m sorry,” you replied taking her hands as they reached for yours.
Loretta Holmes was a woman in her early fifties with short curly hair and chocolate skin. She had large dark eyes and a wide nose. She had owned Falling Stars, the bookshop for years and had made the place accustomed on this whole half of the city. She provided a place that didn’t only allow people to escape into other worlds but a place of comfort and warmth when people needed it most. You had found this place a short time before you were diagnosed and even when you were being treated you would find time to get over at the shop to hide within the shelves and talk with Loretta who had become a close friend. Though when it was starting to get worse and you were having frequent trips to the hospital every other day, you had stopped making an appearance and your green velvet chair had become empty. You had sent a small message to Loretta so she knew you hadn’t just vanished but that you were sick. Ever since then there were brief moments where you would contact her but you hadn’t seen her since the last time you were at the shop. For months now since being released from the hospital you had been trying to find the right time to stumble down to the shop and since you didn’t have to meet Shawn for hours today, it happened to be the perfect day.
“Shh,” she cooed, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m just glad that you’re here and you’re well.”
You shook your head as you squeezed her hands, “I should’ve come sooner but after I was discharged everything happened so fast. I was getting an apartment in the city, applying for school, getting a job, just trying to get back to normal.”
Loretta caressed your cheek again, “Hun, you really don’t have to explain yourself. What you went through was something no one your age should have gone through.”
You smiled, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” With that Loretta pulled you back into your arms but the hug didn’t last as long as the first being interrupted by more sounds coming from the back room.
Glancing around, you thought it was probably just Lou getting into some boxes but that wasn’t the case when you found the beagle sprawled across the flooring tongue dangling from his mouth. Then you heard the footsteps and another figure appeared looking just as you remembered. “Hey, Auntie Holmes where do you want me to put this new collection that was brought in?”
With the young man’s question going unanswered he looked up to see that his aunt wasn’t the only person in the room. His eyes landed on you and the books fell from his hands onto the floor next to the one’s Loretta had dropped moments before. Loretta released your hands as her nephew crossed the room and wrapped you up into his arms, lifting you off the ground in the process. “Holy, shit,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Demetrius,” was all you were able to get out as you hugged him back. Raising you back down to the floor and releasing you. Looking you up and down as if he didn’t know you were actually stood in front of him.
He was a few years older than you and began helping out his aunt Loretta with the shop sometime after you had found it as he looked for jobs after graduating from college. You never thought he would still be stacking books onto the shelves but maybe he had just decided there was no better place to be than there. His skin was a little lighter than his aunt’s looking more like a darker caramel but his eyes were the same as hers. He had black short hair that was shaved onto the sides looking like a fade. Compared to the last time you saw him he now had a small thin mustache on his upper lip.
“You look great,” he smiled that perfect smile causing a giggle to fall from your lips as his hands held you gently by the arms.
“So do you,” you replied.
“How long are you staying?” he suddenly asked glancing down at the gold watch on his wrist.
You shrugged, “Probably for a while. I don’t have anywhere to be for another couple of hours.”
“Perfect,” he sighed thumbs rubbing over your forearms causing you to glance down at the warm touch you weren’t used to gaining from him.
It had been about an hour and after a small time catching up with Loretta and Demetrius you found yourself once again tucked into the very back corner onto the green velvet chair, worn book pressed into your palms. It was old and one you had read many times before and within the first thirty seconds of wandering back towards the shelf you picked it from its place that you last put it. Your nose was pressed into the collar of Shawn’s hoodie still briefly smelling like him though he hadn’t worn it in days. Pieces of your hair were falling into your face and your feet were tucked under you with a sleepy beagle pressed into your side. Your eyebrows were quirked together as you scanned the words on the pages, thumb picking at the edges of the page. This was your place and you always hoped that one day you could bring Shawn here and you can just show him you had kept yourself sane without him.
“Ms. Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Should I even be surprised?” Demetrius appeared from around the corner and leaned against the bookshelf arms crossed over his chest.
“Probably not since I’m one of the few people that actually read it,” you mumbled back without looking up.
“Or because of the fact that you read it over almost every time you are here,” he teased causing your eyes to flicker up towards him.
“Well it’s a good book,” you said defensively a smile falling on your lips.
He nodded, “Yeah it is.”
“What?” you shrieked in confusion, “You haven’t even read it.”
“I did actually,” he paused smiling, “After you told Auntie Holmes that you weren’t going to be around very much I decided to pick it up and give it a try.”
“And?” you asked head peeking back around your book.
“It’s brilliant. I must say Woolf is one very intelligent woman,” Demetrius added stepping further into the secluded corner, eyes falling down to the dog next to you, “You know this corner has been pretty much empty since you left. The only other thing that would take up your space on that cushion is Lou. He obviously missed you.”
You chuckled closing the book making sure to save your spot as you placed it back on your lap your own gaze following on the sweet pup, “Yeah it seems that way.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Demetrius mumbled gaining your attention, “It’s been quiet all these months and I’ve just really missed you.”
“I know I’ve missed everything about this place including you,” you sighed glancing around the small corner with a smile forming on your lips.
Demetrius then began to rub his neck as his eyes took notice of the oversized hoodie that was way too big to be yours, “I uh, heard that your friend was back in town. Shawn.”
You nodded tugging onto the hoodie’s strings that hang down your chest, “Yeah he is. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other in four years so we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
Demetrius raised an eyebrow, “He doesn’t know does he?”
You shook your head, smile dropping sadly. Demetrius and Loretta knew everything about Shawn and how your friendship had been put on pause. They both knew how much you cared about him and just from the times you had talked about him had given Loretta the idea that what you felt for Shawn was more than just friendship. You denied her accusations every time much like you had Demi’s a week before.
“I’ll tell him,” you mumbled hand combing over Lou’s soft floppy ears, “I just need a little more time feeling like a normal girl.”
“You care about him a lot,” Demetrius noted as your head fell back against the velvet chair.
“Yeah I do,” you admitted.
You could hear footsteps and another voice filled the conversation, “Of course she does. Her and Shawn are perfect for each other.”
“Oh yeah, and how would you know that,” you looked towards Loretta eyebrows raising as if you were challenging her, “You haven’t even met him.”
“Well, it’s a simple fact that the two of you are and yet. I haven’t met him yet. I expect for you to bring him over here sometime when things work out,” Loretta said seriously raising a finger towards you.
“Alright, whatever you say, Loretta,” you chuckled taking notice of how quiet Demetrius had become. “What about you?” you poked him in the side gaining his attention. “How’s Deja?”
“That ended a while ago,” Demetrius replied causing you to frown.
“Oh, sorry,” you whispered in which he shrugged placing a smile back on his face, “Hey, well you know Demi is single if you ever you know.”
He chuckled, “I think we both know that Demi is too much for me.”
You laughed pulling your phone from your pocket to look at the time which read five thirty. Along with that, there was a text from Shawn. “Leaving soon!” Tucking the phone back into your pocket you stood from the velvet chair causing the spring to squeak waking the small beagle. “I should get going,” you said starting to pull on your coat.
Loretta nodded pulling you into another hug, “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.” you smiled feeling her give you a squeeze.
“I expect the next time you’re here that Shawn is with you,” she continued.
You let out a small laugh releasing her, “Alright Loretta.”
Her arms were then changed out of for Demetrius, who’s face tucked into your neck, “See you soon?”
“Yeah, see you soon,” you said pulling away after a few seconds to only gain a light kiss to your cheek. You were shocked by the small affection but smiled at the boy nevertheless.
Walking back towards the shelf, you tucked the book back in its place knowing you’ll have to finish it another time before giving them one more wave and walking out of the shop, door scraping against the floor and bell ringing above you like it did every time.
+
him
Shawn was stood in the same spot he had been about a week before waiting for her to walk through those two front doors except this time he wasn’t as nervous as the first. He casually leaned against the counter waiting for the drinks, his usual Americano, and hers a raspberry tea knowing that she wouldn’t want coffee at this time of the day. He tapped his fingers against the marble top, humming with the song that was playing through the speakers under his breath. Smiling towards the barista who handed him the two drinks he grabbed a straw for her tea and turned towards the door just as she trampled in. Hair messy and hoodie hanging off her body. He smiled thinking she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Y/N’s eyes landed on him almost immediately taking in the grey joggers and the sweatshirt that matched the one she had on but was black instead of grey. She smiled towards him as he walked over to her and offered the raspberry tea.
“Ooh, raspberry tea. Thank you very much,” she exclaimed taking the plastic cup from his hand and taking a long sip from the straw, “So what’s the plan?”
“You’ll see,” Shawn replied walking out of Dineen Coffee Co, Y/N following him.
“Oh then it must not be good,” she teased walking in step next to his tall frame having to take more steps then him because of how long his strides were, “You’re up to something.”
He rolled his eyes playfully chuckling as he brought the Americano up to his lips, “It’s not even a big deal I promise.”
“So,” she paused, “Tonight will be a low key night?”
He nodded, “Pretty much.”
She groaned happily, “Yes, those are my favorite.” Shawn laughed towards the girl, eyes falling down at her happy smile as her gaze locked with his. “I mean not saying I don’t like to go out because I’ll take any excuse to beat you in bowling but I’m just saying it’s nice when it’s just us lying around with no interruptions. You know?”
His hand bumped hers, fingers sliding along hers wanting nothing more than to take it into his own, “Yeah I do.”
He never did take her hand in his for the whole walk to where he was leading her and instead of feeling the warmth of her small hand it was replaced by his coffee that he took occasional sips from. The walk wasn’t too long and every few minutes she would ask him a question regarding around where they could be going but he never did answer and as they approached the large building he made her close her eyes. Both of their drinks were gone now and thrown into the nearest trash can.
It was a tall grey apartment building that he had only been in a handful of times and now would be spending way more time inside. Windows were around the building and for the bigger condos, there were balconies to look out at the city.
“Shawn what’s going on and why do I have to close my eyes?” Y/N asked gripping onto his hands tightly, now needing them to be led through the strange building.
“Just keep them closed okay,” he replied leading his best friend through the lobby, where he sent a smile towards the man who sat behind the reception desk, to the elevators.
He pushed the up arrow and a small beep rang out before the doors opened. She stepped in after him and as the doors closed behind them and the elevator car began to move Y/N wrapped her arms around Shawn’s torso at the sudden movement. He laughed loudly and gained a small slap to the shoulder for it. “Wait are we in an elevator?” she asked as the beep sounded again before the doors opened.
“I don’t know, are we?” he asked teasingly as he took her hands in his again and lead her out and into the long hallway that only held two or three apartments on the whole floor. He stopped in front of the door at the very end of the hallway and with the keys he had been given that morning unlocked the thick white door.
He flicked on the lights that led into the kitchen and shut the door behind him causing Y/N to jump a little at the sudden sound. “Can I open them yet?” she asked hands outstretched no longer feeling him around her.
“No not yet,” he replied hopping up onto the kitchen counter that had the large window situated behind him to look out towards the bustling city, the sun still briefly peeking over the large buildings.
He swung his legs back and forth and tapped his fingers against the marble as he watched his best friend’s head move around cautiously arms still outstretched wide. “Okay, you can open them now.”
Her eyes slowly fluttered open revealing her Y/E/C orbs. Her face scrunched into one of confusion and a small wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as she looked around the empty expensive modern apartment. When her eyes finally landed on Shawn and the view in the background.
“What do you think?” he asked with a smile.
Her eyes widened as she stepped forward further into the kitchen and began to look around frantically, “Wait did you buy this?”
He nodded with a laugh, “Well I thought since I am twenty now I should probably get a place of my own.”
“Fuck, this place is nice,” she mumbled still struck at the apartment she was standing in, “When did you do this?”
“They gave me the keys this morning and the movers are getting here with my stuff in a little bit,” he replied jumping down from the counter to stand in front of her.
“Oh, now I get it. I’m here to help you unpack and move in,” Y/N smirked.
Shawn ran his fingers through his fluffy curls, “Well that wasn’t my initial thought but I mean if you want to then go right ahead.”
“Okay I will,” she smiled bumping her shoulder with his, “I mean what else were we going to do.”
Soon the movers had arrived and dropped off the furniture he had bought from a store and some of his personal things from the house. Now they were all just sitting sprawled in boxes across the kitchen and what Shawn planned to make the living room. Music flowed through the speaker he had his phone hooked up to and though he was supposed to be trying to figure out how to put together his bed frame, he was busy sending you glances over his shoulder. Y/N was stood in the kitchen putting away his plates and silverware, hips swaying to the beat of the song. He was chuckling to himself at the sight, cheeks getting rosy just at the sight of her dancing in his new apartment adorned in his hoodie looking comfortable. To him, she belonged there and he was sure of that.
He looked back towards his bed frame screwing in a screw as the song came to an end switching to the next one. His own song Nervous started flowing through the speaker. He was thinking about changing it but didn’t when he heard her yell out in glee and begin to pick up on her dancing. “You better not change it, Mendes,” she threatened, pointing a fork in his direction.
Shawn raised his hands in defense and laughed as Y/N began to lip-sync to his own voice coming through the speakers. She dropped the silverware onto the counter and slid across the wood floor in the kitchen with her sock clad feet almost slipping. He laughed as she regained her balance and stepped down into the living room where he was crouched on the ground screwdriver in hand as he held the metal bed frame. Y/N was now stood in front of him swaying her hips and dancing lip syncing every single word. She pulled the screwdriver from Shawn’s hand and tossed it onto the side table he had assembled just before he began on his bed’s metal frame.
He chuckled as she took his hand in her palms still dancing. Placing the metal frame on the floor, he scooted closer towards the edge of the step he sat on that moved from the living room down a hallway. Y/N’s hands moved from Shawn’s hands up to his shoulders and cupped his cheeks before running through his hair messily. He couldn’t help the grin that was on his face at this woman who stood in between his legs dancing to his song that in many ways explained how he felt when he was around her. She pulled at the strings of his hoodie and smiled as Shawn’s grin only widened cheeks as rosy as ever.
“You are such a dork!” he said loudly over the music.
Her hands stopped their movements at the collar of his hoodie, fingers lightly touching the skin of his neck an equally large smile on her lips, “Yeah but I’m your dork!”
His hands found a place on her hips, fingers thumbing over the material of his hoodie that hung off of her. Her eyes were looking down towards Shawn as small breaths fell from her parted lips from all the dancing as his warm hands held her in her place. His amber eyes locked with hers and noticed a look that filled them but he couldn’t figure it out what it was. A small smile started to form on her lips.
“Hey,” she mumbled as the song came to an end, “What’s supposed to be for dinner.”
That’s when Shawn’s eyes widened and he jumped up from his spot on the step heading straight towards his phone, “Shit I forgot to order the pizza.”
+
It was now late, the sun long was gone and the city was shining brightly through the large windows of Shawn’s new apartment. A pizza box was thrown across the other side of the kitchen and silence filled the large new condo beside the occasional sound of a sip being taken from the green beer bottle placed in Shawn’s hand. Y/N was sat next to him, knee bumping his as they looked out of the window towards the night sky. Everything had been assembled in the apartment and put together besides a few boxes and furniture pieces for the spare bedroom which he had decided he would finish in the morning.
Taking a lazy sip of the half empty bottle, he offered it over towards Y/N who took it and sipped on it slowly. Her face scrunching every time she did so, giving Shawn the idea that she didn’t drink very often. The bottle hung from her long fingers and her head lolled to the side, eyes looking forward at the lights and a flush on her cheeks from the alcohol. She passed the beer back to him noticing his eyes were already on her causing a smile to form on her pouty lips.
“What?” she asked innocently.
Shawn shook his head the bottle swaying in his hand, “Nothing, it’s just I don’t get it.”
“Get what?” she asked chin lifting curiously.
“How after all this time I come back and you don’t have a boyfriend,” hw shrugged leaning back on his hand, knee lightly bumping hers again.
“I don’t see how that’s hard to believe,” she replied twirling a small piece of hair around her finger that had fallen out of the ponytail that wasn’t much of a ponytail anymore.
“Well, it is,” Shawn smiled, “In high school it seemed there was always a line at your doorstep of guys begging to get your attention.”
She chuckled body leaning in his, “And somehow you were the only one I let it.”
Shawn nodded turning his face to look towards her who now looked so much closer in the dimly lit room. “Have you really not had any boyfriends?”
“Nope,” she replied popping the ‘p’.
“Any dates? One night stands?” he continued breath falling short from his lips as she shook her head, “So you haven’t met anyone?”
“No, but you clearly have,” Y/N teased, bottom lip pulling in between her teeth as Shawn’s amber eyes glanced at the sight, “I mean the media does like to talk and plus there must have been someone for you to write all those songs about.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t work out,” he said his hot breath mixing with hers.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered taking the beer bottle back from him to take another small sip as he mumbled out his next words.
“I’m not.”
It seemed like the alcohol got stuck in Y/N’s throat because she dropped the bottle back down away from her mouth and let out a small cough from the back of her throat as Shawn only continued to talk. “I wish we wouldn’t have lost contact after I left.”
Right as his words hit the air, Shawn could see the way she tensed up like she always did when he brought it up or tried to ask the same question, he knew that within a few seconds she would be making a run for the door. “I don’t get why you can’t tell me. It’s like you’re scared to but we both know whatever the truth is I won’t be upset. I just want to understand.”
With that, Y/N set the beer down next to her on the counter and hopped down, “I should go. It’s getting late.”
He sighed running his fingers through his hair in frustration, “You always run away when I bring it up so for once can you just face me and this conversation. It’s going to have to happen sometime and you know that so why don’t you just get it over with.”
“Thanks for today, Shawn,” Y/N said from across the room as she pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse, “I have Aaliyah for the afternoon tomorrow but I’m free the rest of the day if you want to get together. I’ll text you.”
She opened the door and walked out not even bothering to wait for Shawn to respond. As soon as the door clicked behind her, he let out a frustrated groan and knocked the beer bottle to the ground. It shattered as it hit the freshly waxed wood floor leaving glass and beer to coat the dark wood. He sighed tugging at his curls at how quickly the mood changed yet again. They were tipsy and flirting one moment and the next she was running out of the door because of a simple comment he had made.
It was killing him to not know the truth of why things happened between them the way they did. And it was going to continue killing him every time he saw her smiling face without knowing the truth but he cared about her so much that he wasn’t about to walk away for that reason. He knew he didn’t have the courage to say that he was done with her secrets because he lived off that perfect smile and those tan freckles on her nose. Every time he saw her, he was less anxious and he felt like he could breathe again. She was his safe place and the only pair of arms he would let hold him forever and he wasn’t about to throw away that feeling just because she wasn’t ready to admit what she was feeling.
next part
#shawn mendes#shawn mendes imagine#shawn mendes fanfiction#shawn mendes fanfic#my writing#shawn peter raul mendes#shawn mendes angst#shawn#mendes#shawn x reader#shawn x y/n#shawn x you
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whumptober 01 - Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard whump
Because I have 0 shame and I love Sheppard whump (because I love Sheppard and he suffers so beautifully; sorry, John), I’m going to give this Whumptober thing a whirl! I’ll be doing SGA and my main two original worlds and writing pretty much whatever I feel like based on the prompts.
Starting with SGA, though.
No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME
Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
Used all three prompts for this one. You can also read it here on AO3. Enjoy!
(Writing is below the cut)
------------
He awoke with a start. A violent jolt, one that made something over him rattle so loudly it pierced his head. Everything hurt, ranging from a dull ache at the back of his skull to a more generalized, deep-set pain of exhaustion everywhere else.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, John Sheppard wondered: how many head traumas had he been through in his life?
That wasn’t the most important question, though. Barely a few seconds later, his sluggish senses came back to him just enough to realize exactly what kind of a pickle he was in – flat, cold floor under his back. Shackles around his wrists, set tightly enough to bite into his skin. More shackles around his ankles, clamping down hard, but at least he still had his boots on. And a blindfold around his head, covering his eyes.
Gingerly, John tried to move. The various aches flared, and something above his head rattled. No, not above his head – above his arms, actually. Shifting, John tried to give his arms a tug. Weak as the effort turned out to be, it rewarded him with more of that loud rattling that felt like someone poking a knife in his ears.
Another chain. He tried to picture it: one around his wrists, over him – hanging from the ceiling, if he had to guess. So he was ready to be strung up. Great.
As for the rest of it, everything around him, he could only conjure up images of some dark, dank castle dungeon out of a fantasy flick. From the smell of mildew and the occasional, distant drips of water, it didn’t seem too far off the mark.
Okay. He had to get his bearings. Taking a deep breath, John tried to push away the pain pounding in his skull and shifted in the restraints again. Nowhere you haven’t been before. Yeah, because he’d been tied up so many times in his life.
Usually it wasn’t chains quite this heavy-duty, though… and at least some of the last chains had been nice enough to come with leather cuffs that didn’t try taking chunks out of his wrists. But here he was, laying in the floor probably catching pneumonia and taking a mental tally of the best and worst bindings he’d been in during his stay in another galaxy. Alright, so what were his options—
Clunk.
John went rigid, held his breath, and listened. Something moved nearby. A deep thud, a clang, and then the chain rattled again. Started moving. Oh crap.
It lifted him by the wrists, dragging his arms straight up in the air. And for some stupid reason, John struggled. Human nature, probably, since he knew full well he couldn’t actually do anything. All that did was make the shackles on his wrists bite down harder, and he promptly calmed himself and went still again.
Slowly, it hauled him farther up, pulling his arms out taut above his head until it made his shoulders protest and let a deep ache settle heavy into them too. His hands got twisted up in the shackles, held at an awkward angle above his head, the metal cutting into his skin. Didn’t take long for him to feel hot blood start oozing from around the restraints. Then even more, trickling in eddies down his arms.
With his hands a lost cause, John tried moving his feet instead – which almost made him cry out. Even one jerk of his legs, tensing the muscles in his lower body, put that much more pressure on his wrists. And as for his feet, they went nowhere – another chain rattled and he could barely even lift his legs a few inches before some other restraint kept them from going further.
He was hanging there like those drying hides he saw in Athosian camps: pulled taut, bound one end and the other. At least his limbs weren’t splayed out, though. Silver lining – arguably.
Maybe if he broke his thumbs, used the blood to lubricate his hands, he could slip them free. At least there didn’t seem to be anything or anyone else moving around in here with him. Another silver lining. It was almost a pretty sunset by now, he lied to himself, as feeling steadily drained from his arms – except the sickly tickle of blood running down them to remind him they still existed – even as he began to try contorting one hand…
Then something moved.
Nearby, somewhere in the darkness, something creaked. A door swinging open. It hit the wall soon after, a heavy slam that rattled its hinges. Faintly, light spilled in from somewhere just off to his side – he could barely see it through the blindfold. Setting his jaw and trying to control his breathing against how much it all hurt, he listened carefully.
Breathing. Harsh, grating breathing from a very inhuman throat. Something shuffled toward him, something else in chains that rattled. Those labored breaths drew closer and he smelled a stench, something familiar, something he couldn’t ever quite fully get out of his mind…
The stench of a Wraith’s maw. He’d recognize it anywhere.
Damn.
Instantly, hot and cold panic shot up his spine, made him go rigid and have the restraints hurt still worse. Against his better judgment, against any cool logic years of experience and a general – outward, anyway – attitude of calm had always afforded him, he squirmed again.
Frustration and no small amount of rage pushed the fear aside and had him struggle just enough to remind himself there was no way he could get out of this right now. Just one hard jerk of his chains to prove a point to himself: that he was screwed, and that wasn’t really his own fault. And to prove to whatever Wraith stared at him now that he didn’t want to go quietly like some—
Wait. Chains.
The Wraith was in chains too.
So they were both prisoners. A few quick flashes of Todd tumbled into the ugly pile of half-panicked thoughts that filled his head, and he tried to croak out a few words. Turned out his throat was so dry he could barely speak, and he had to swallow hard, almost choking on nothing as his throat clicked at him and he tried to find anything to… actually say.
“Rotten luck, huh?” he managed to grate out in a rough drawl, sounding like he had just finished gargling gravel. “What’re you in for?”
No response, just a harsh, rattling breath and a fresh waft of half-rotten stink from that… mouth.
No way this would work.
“That’s the way it’s gonna be?” John said, listening as the chains rattled again and the Wraith took a few more heavy, shuffling steps forward.
No response again. Without another word, John braced himself. Why the hell did he have to be helpless, left hanging here like a free meal, feeling pathetic? Even if he went down fighting, even if somebody was watching and making sport of it, he would rather have that over being completely unable to even try saving his own ass—
He could almost feel it now, almost see it – see the feeding hand as the Wraith raised it. Something like anticipation welled in his chest – terror of the sheer pain, bracing for it but also for the intoxicating rush he knew came with it. He knew it, he hated it, and he set his jaw against the inevitable scream because he already knew nothing hurt like this—
The sharp rapport of gunfire split the room, split his ears, and split the Wraith. P90 fire, fully automatic. Someone unloaded right into the thing. A splatter of blood barely reached him. The Wraith let loose some wild sound between a cry and a roar just before a familiar buzzing thwump heated the air next as Ronon’s gun discharged once, twice, three times.
Something fell down in front of him into a heavy, meaty heap, with the faint squeak of undoubtedly black leather: the Wraith. It had been so close, so close he almost wondered how they had managed to shoot it and not hit him.
With more difficulty than he would ever admit, John tried to collect himself. A few voices rang in his ears, approaching him, along with familiar labored breathing: Rodney. Not just the way he panted but the way he felt. Smelled. That sure did sound weird. Maybe it was leftover from that time John had turned into a bug…
“Oh my God, he’s covered in blood,” Rodney declared, voice shaking.
“He’ll be fine,” Ronon said next, from somewhere a few feet away. Probably covering the room, making sure nothing came at them.
“The lever is here,” said Teyla from somewhere else in the room. “Support him when he is lowered, Rodney.”
“Suppor—? What, me? Yes, yes, okay,” Rodney answered. Under his breath, John heard him mutter, “Oh God there’s so much blood, this is disgusting…”
Then there were hands on him. Hands and arms. One set Rodney’s, one Teyla’s; he could tell. Gently, they lowered him to the floor, before he finally swallowed hard again.
“Anybody wanna get this off my face?” he said as wryly as he could manage. There wasn’t much humor in it.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, why didn’t I think about that?” Rodney blurted, pulling the blindfold off as John also felt Teyla’s gentle touch around his wrists, carefully unlocking the shackles there. Apparently, somewhere, they had managed to find some keys.
“We’ll get the bastard who did this,” Ronon offered rather generically but with genuine feeling from where he stood, watching them maybe a little too much instead of the doorways he was supposed to be covering. Coming from him, it meant a lot. John knew, like everybody else, he wasn’t exactly a words and feelings kind of guy.
“First,” Rodney said, “we’ve got to get him to the infirmary.”
For his part, John blinked and tried to get his eyes to focus. Dim as the light was, it was hard to see to begin with, even without a head wound, his heart still pounding in his ears, and general disorientation. But he made out Rodney crouched over him on one side, Ronon standing nearby with both hands still on his gun, and Teyla leaning over him now.
“Are you still with us, John?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Rodney scoffed and threw one bloodied hand in the air. “’Fine,’ of course he says he’s ‘fine.’ Perfectly fine, Lieutenant Colonel Blood Loss…”
As they finished unshackling him and slowly, one on each side, hauled him to his feet, John licked his lips finally took a deep breath that wasn’t borne of trying to steady his emotions and not be scared out of his mind.
And he used it to say quietly, hoarsely, “Thanks.”
#whumptober2020#whumptober#no.1#shackled#waking up restrained#hanging#Stargate Atlantis#SGA#Stargate#John Sheppard#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#blindfolded#sensory deprivation#Rodney McKay#Teyla Emmagan#Ronon Dex
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ithaca Pt. 4
Word Count: 4176
Warning/s: None, except Steve and Val’s kind of a bitch.
A/N: OMG. I’m so sorry I’ve been posting chapters in long intervals but rest assured I’m working on this. I just sometimes write a block of text and hates it on the proofreading phase. So I would end up scraping a chunk of the fic and rewriting it. If you guys, wants to be tagged on this fic, just let me know. And let me know what you think, as always.
PS. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5
***
It was dark outside when you arrived at your shared apartment with your schoolbag slung against your shoulder and a box of groceries in your arms. Your class finished around five in the afternoon. You didn’t mean to be out late but you figured it’s better to get acquainted with the town now rather than later when you’re swamped with school work.
“Welcome home,” Maria greeted as she emerged to the living room with wet hair, and only wearing an oversized shirt and underwear.
You tried not to flush at the sight of your best friend’s long legs but you’re only human, and you’ll have to be an idiot not to appreciate such a beauty like Maria. Maria noticed the pink on your cheeks before you could decide to duck your head and go about fixing your haul on the cupboards in the kitchen.
“How’s your first day?” Maria asked after purposefully jumping on the counter next to you.
You’ve known Maria all your life. Even after she got adopted, the two of you kept in touch regularly. So when you caught the glint on her eye, and you saw the mischievous smirk on her lips, you knew exactly what she’s doing.
“It’s intense. Your friends are intense,” you answered as you continue the task at hand. “How about you? How’s your day?”
Maria just shrugged as she watches you finish putting the last of the groceries away. You cocked an eyebrow in her direction. You thought Maria might not be in the sharing mood. So you let it go and is about to pass her to go shower when she stopped you with a hand on the back of your shirt.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to sharing you,” she answered seriously.
You turned on your heel to face her and situate yourself between her dangling legs on the counter. You put your hands on either side of her thigh as you look up in her eyes. Maria didn’t mean to gulp but suddenly her mouth has become very dry.
“Sharing is caring, bubba,” you said before a laugh crawled its way up to your throat and ruining the moment.
Maria rolled her eyes playfully at you. She’s secretly glad that after everything that happened in your life, you manage to maintain your sense of humor. Before she can come up with a retort though, she was surprised when you pulled her by the collar of her huge shirt.
“What the?” Maria yelped.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady,” you said seriously, voice an octave lower than your normal speaking voice. Maria shivered.
“Y/N,” she whispered.
You smiled before pecking her lips and walking away to shower.
“Coward!” Maria whined.
You left the door of the shower open, making your laugh heard all over the apartment.
***
A week has passed since you officially started school, again. A week since you’re officially adopted by the Avengers, making you instantly one of the popular kids. Being exceptional at a very young age, and having been the youngest Stark Industries intern in history (Tony not counted, as he’s technically the heir), you’re used to the limelight but it doesn’t mean you enjoy it.
The Avengers is a pact full of next-level popular kids. Tony Stark, the Odinsons brothers Thor and Loki, Natasha, and Steve are descendants of the families that founded Ithaca. Carol and Valkyrie are both soccer varsity players, while Clint’s an Olympic archer. Wanda’s top psychology student and founder of the school’s peer counseling group, and Maria’s one of the leading tech student and captain of the school’s self-defense club. So it goes without saying that every eye is on them anywhere they go, and walking alongside these kids somehow makes you feel a little vulnerable, seen, exposed.
Thankfully, your schedule is packed between classes, volunteering in the library, and a job in one of the small clubs downtown. You mostly interact with them over breakfast (since apparently, it’s a long-standing tradition between the group), then lunch break, and free periods. It’s not that you don’t like their company, you actually really do enjoy being around them. Most of them are really funny, too.
It’s their fans that you’re not very fond of because they tend to be loud, trying-hard, and downright obnoxious sometimes. They don’t seem particularly taken to you too. Some of them threw you dirty looks in the cafeteria or whisper when you pass them along the hallway. You’re not really bothered by any of it though. You can understand the animosity towards a stranger who coveted the position everyone was vying for - being friends with the Avengers.
“Hey! Earth to Y/N,” Tony snapped his fingers in front of your face.
You had to blink twice to bring yourself back to the present. You remembered you’re actually sitting on the Avengers’ usual spot at Starbucks for breakfast. You took a quick sweep of the table, everyone was present, and all eyes are on you.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” Carol asked as she places her hand on your arm.
You saw Nat’s eye twitch at the contact but you ignored it. You turned your head to regard Carol.
“I’m good. Just tired,” you answered.
“I understand not being able to sit still and doing nothing but I think working at the club every other night is overdoing it,” Natasha said with her signature poker face but voice dripping with hidden concern.
You couldn’t help the small smile on your face. “I need the money,” you tried to argue.
“For what? You’re on full scholarship, you paid your half of the rent for the whole year before you moved here, and your patents and investments are paying dividends monthly,” Maria shuts you down.
You opened and close your mouth to say something but you didn’t know what to say exactly.
“Hill - 1, Y/L/N - 0,” Loki teased, which made Tony laugh so hard he almost fell off his chair.
You pouted. Wanda poked your nose.
“Don’t pout, little one. We’re only looking out for you,” she said before kissing your cheeks. By now, you’re used to Wanda always touching you, always being affectionate. A week and you understood, her love language is touch. So, you allow yourself to enjoy it even for a little bit. You wouldn’t be caught admitting that these kids are growing on you though.
You deepen the pout, which earned a hearty chuckle from Wanda.
“Fine,” you groaned dramatically. “I’ll ask my manager to give me less shift.”
“Good. You need to learn how to be a young adult again,” Thor said before glancing at his watch then standing up and rounding the table to kiss the top of your head.
Tony bolted up and sat ramrod straight on his chair. He has a wicked smile on his face.
‘Oh, no’, you thought to yourself.
“Agreed,” he said carefully. Smile growing by the minute. “That’s why I’m throwing a party in your honor on Friday.”
You groaned while everyone approved and cheered.
***
A month later.
A month is how long it took for the Avengers to finally settle on a which weekend works for everybody. It was quite hilarious to watch everyone get frustrated because of a party. Little did you know Natasha and Carol’s a little more aggravated than the others because they’re still not any closer to cracking the mystery that is you. Nat and Carol are a little angst too, to say the least, that you’re closer to Thor and Wanda than you are with them.
On your part, you weren’t favoring a pair over another. It just so happened that Thor has really taken to you, and has been helping you get acquainted with the town whenever Tony or Maria isn’t available to do so. He also volunteered to be your fitness partner by taking you jogging around town or going to the gym after class. He has become somewhat the big brother figure you never had, even though you’re almost the same age.
Wanda, on the other hand, is not the type of girl you usually hang out with. All your life, Maria’s the only other girl who’s really close enough to you to drag you outdoors but Maria likes outdoor activities such as paintball and laser tag, hiking, paragliding, and free diving. Wanda, on the other hand, likes going shopping, going to movies, as well as getting massages and pampering treatments at the spa. Usually, you loathe being dragged to do girly activities but you’ve grown to love Wanda’s company enough to let her. She’s cute, smart, funny, and warm.
“Nat, stop tapping your foot. She’ll be here,” Clint teased mildly.
“Why is she still not here?” Carol who’s sitting on the other side of the table interrupted. Clint just had to chuckle at how the two are so much alike than they cared to admit.
“She’ll be here,” Thor said behind the bar after fixing Nat’s drink. Nat nodded at him thankfully before taking a sip of her vodka.
“Are you sure you gave her the right address?” Carol asked while pacing behind Natasha.
Clint and Thor looked at each other at Carol’s accusatory tone. Natasha’s knuckles are turning white as she grips the glass tighter. Loki raised an eyebrow at his brother, silently asking him to diffuse the situation. They worked so hard to get everyone free on the exact same day, and to get the party sorted out, only for these two to blow up at each other face just because they’re pining for the same girl for the first time.
“Relax ladies,” Tony who was silently standing on the balcony and watching the other party-goers by the pool below. “She’s here.”
Carol and Natasha are instantly beside Tony and scanning the crowd for you.
***
You didn’t intend to be late but you had to make sure you got all your homework’s done before going out, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it at and after the party. There’s also the case of not knowing what to wear to such a high profile party. You were sure, half if not the whole school, will be in attendance. Then there’s the case of you initially refusing everyone who offered to pick you up because you didn’t want the extra special treatment.
Then you made a mistake of not taking the cab to the estate because you were saving money, only to realize that there’s no bus stop in the executive part of town because rich kids have their own cars to drive to school. So, you had to walk for a good fifteen minutes before reaching the Starks. It wasn’t hard to find, the industrial designed mansion stood in contrast to the row of classic cul-de-sacs.
You were right, the house is filled with so many people, some are spilling out of the streets. Everyone was so absorbed in the music, dancing, and drinking that you were able to move around covertly. You were able to get inside the house and out on the garden and the pool area without seeing any of your friends along the way. Standing by the side of the pool and about to reach on the inside pocket of your leather jacket to call Tony, when you looked up at the man himself looking back at you with Natasha and Carol. Tony waved, while the two ladies merely gaped as you walk to enter the side of the house they’re in.
***
Tony turned away from the balcony.
“Close your mouth ladies, it’s unbecoming,” Tony said teasingly before meeting you at the top of the staircase. He immediately engulfed you in a one-arm hug.
“Finally!” everyone shouts when they saw you.
You smiled at your new friends before noting that the noise from outside is muffled. ‘Soundproof,’ you thought.
“Sorry, I’m late,” you said before walking with Tony at the table.
Most of them assured you it was fine except Steve and Valkyrie who was more interested in continuing their game of pool than join the rest of you. You ignored the fact that they don’t like you but as long as they’re not actively doing something to make your life in Ithaca hell, you really don’t care.
Maria immediately enveloped you in a hug the moment you flopped down on the couch next to her.
“You look fantastic, bubba,” she said before planting a sloppy kiss on the side of your face.
You know by the display of affection that Maria had a few drinks in but you’re not there to mother your best friend. You’re there to have fun. So you just smiled at her and kiss her cheeks too. By then, Carol and Natasha have both taken their seats across from you.
“Only Maria gets a kiss?” Wanda quipped on your other side. You laughed before relenting and giving your new friend a friendly kiss on the cheeks too.
When you turned forward, you noticed the slight flush on both Carol and Natasha’s cheeks as they both got lost watching you. You had to clear your throat before the two looked you in the eye.
“Want a kiss too?” you asked confidently. Carol choked on nothing, while Natasha had to avert her eyes for a second.
“And she’s not even drunk yet, ladies and gentlemen,” Tony announced theatrically before laughing out loud. Maria joined in the laughter as well. You would be pissed had it been someone else but these are your best mates. You know it was all good fun.
“Shut up, you two,” you told your best friends before turning back to Carol and Nat. “I’m sorry, I was kidding.”
“Jokes are half meant,” Thor said before handing you a glass of JD and coke. You smiled at him gratefully.
Before you can think of anything witty to throwback though, Steve spoke as he surveys his shot at the pool table. “Big wow! She owns a pair of ratty leather jacket and she’s instantly a player,” he said sarcastically.
Everyone looked at Steve wide-eyed and utterly surprised that they were unable to say anything at the moment.
“Give her an award for actually pulling it off. I thought all she knows how to wear was preppy clothes,” Val piped in.
Maria and Tony clenched their fists. You can see a storm brewing before it starts. So you decided to kick Tony’s shins and putting your hand on Maria’s knees to diffuse their attention. Tony groaned in pain while Maria sighed heavily.
“You two, go away if you have nothing better to say,” Nat said seriously before you could say anything else.
Steve’s eyes narrowed for a second before he dropped his sticks on the table and leaving the playroom. Val glanced at Carol to gauge her stand on the matter when she saw Carol’s lips pursed in a thin line, she rolled her eyes before walking away. There a fat pause after the two jocks left.
“I’m sorry about those two. They probably misplaced their manners tonight,” Carol said, trying to alleviate the awkwardness.
You smiled. “That’s okay. They don’t know me.”
“So let them get to know you,” Maria suggested.
“And I know the best way how,” Tony quickly piped in before pulling out a board game from under the table. “Let’s play a game.”
***
Game one was hours long of tipsy monopoly where you dominated with Natasha. Carol hated that you were drafted to partner up with the redhead. So she drank and drunk as much as Thor would let her while playing the game. Everyone decided to finish the game when eighty-five percent of the estates on the board is already owned by your team.
“Take that Stark,” you taunted your best friend before turning towards Natasha with your hand up waiting for a high-five.
Natasha didn’t make you wait long before she’s slapping her hand against yours. “It’s a pleasure winning by your side, Tasha,” you murmured while holding her hand still.
Natasha smiled. In an hour, she found that you’re not only book smart but also street smart. She also found out that you’re a little rough around the edges but still very accommodating, which she really likes about you. “I wouldn’t wanna win with anyone else,” she said sincerely.
All you could do was grin like an idiot. You wanted to say something else but you were interrupted by Carol’s chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor as she abruptly stood up. She was looking intently at both you and Natasha, and you noted the fire in her eyes. Then she glanced at yours and Natasha’s clasped hands.
‘Ah,’ you thought.
“I’m gonna go find Val at the dance floor,” Carol said, voice strained with what you assume is jealousy.
Clint who was the only one paying attention to the interaction agreed that it’s time for the hosts of the party to make an appearance. Everyone was on their feet steadily even with the amount of alcohol that was consumed while playing. In fact, you thought the Avengers look steadier and even more confident than usual as they walk down the stairs like celebrities on a catwalk.
“Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you. I’ll just use to powder room,” you said to Loki who stopped at the top of the stairs to wait for you. He shrugged his shoulder and winked at you. You chuckled to yourself as you think of how opposite the Odinsons are. Thor is friendly and talkative, while Loki is silent but very observant. You like them both, either way.
***
Finding the Avengers in a crowded room isn’t hard. Most people flock around them, always trying to get a moment with them. The party-goers cleared a circle in the middle of the dance floor for the group to dance without being swamped by everybody else. You watched them for a minute before deciding, you’d like to have a drink. So, you made a beeline for the bar where a certain blonde’s sitting alone on it.
“Four tequila shots, please,” you ordered politely.
Carol snorted beside you. “Liquid courage?” she asked teasingly but she’s not smiling and definitely not looking at you.
‘That’s bothering’, you thought. Carol is one of the most confident women you know. There was never a day, ever since your arrival in Ithaca that Carol ever not look in your eyes when she’s speaking to you.
“Drowning something?” you teased back as you note her glass almost full to the brim with scotch.
Carol didn’t answer, still didn’t look at you. When the bartender put down your order, you quickly downed two of them simultaneously. That made Carol look.
“Slow down, you already had a few Jack Cokes upstairs,” she said, clearly concerned.
You made your stool turn towards her. You pushed the other shot glass towards her and she caught it without looking. She quirked an eyebrow at you. You picked up your glass and raised it towards her. Carol doesn't know what’s happening exactly but she clicked your glass together before both of you down the liquid fire.
You jumped out of your stool and made Carol’s spun around to face you.
“Y/N, what the heck?” she yelped as she grips your biceps.
You chuckled before leaning up. “Come dance with me, Captain,” you whispered right beside her ear.
Carol couldn’t help herself from shivering. Your voice, your proximity is doing things to Carol. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but smirk after seeing her pupils fully dilated.
“Or would you prefer I dance with someone else instead,” you said before offering your hand towards her.
Carol blinked twice before taking your hand. You laughed when Carol nearly shoved you in her haste to get you to the dance floor.
“Sorry,” she said but didn’t make a move to extricate her front against your back.
You turned on the spot, making Carol hold onto your waist. You pulled her impossibly closer by putting your hand on her nape. Chest to chest you can feel Carol’s heartbeat beating erratically. You chuckled before you spun around again, and you ground your ass against the blonde captain in time with the beat of the music.
“You’re killing me, Y/N,” Carol groaned deeply.
You chuckled. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” you said close to her ear so she can hear you.
Carol groaned. When you look past her shoulder, you can see Natasha watching you with a mighty frown on her face before Wanda dragged her back on the other side of the dance. At some point in the night, you and Carol rejoined the group, and you danced with Natasha and practically everyone too.
***
The sun was rising when the ballroom of the Stark mansion was emptied except for your group. Everyone was sitting on the floor, drunk and decompressing. Frankly, at that point, all you wanna do was to be in your bed and sleep. Plus points if you could cuddle with Maria. When you look across the room and caught Maria looking back, you know she has the same idea.
“Alright, I had so much fun. Thank you for throwing this party for me,” you slurred slightly.
Tony groaned from the floor. “No, no, no. Don’t leave yet. Let’s play another game,” he cried out.
Everyone was so out of it that they blindly agreed to play. Tony cheered as he grabs the last bottle of scotch and poured everyone with a shot.
“What are we playing?” Thor asked while leaning on the wall, eyes already closed.
“Never have I ever,” Tony said.
Maria stood behind you before reaching out for your glasses. “One shot, and we go home,” she whispered before handing you your glass.
A few questions in but you and Maria still haven’t drunk your last shot.
“Alright, I have a good one,” Clint said. “Never have I ever slept with my best friend.”
He didn’t drink.
Thor didn’t drink.
Tony didn’t drink.
Loki didn’t drink.
Wanda didn’t drink.
Then every eye is on you, Maria, Carol, and Natasha. A pregnant pause ensued before you thought, ‘fuck it’ and drinking your glass.
Maria smiled before throwing back her shot too.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Tony said before standing up and dusting himself. “She’s gay, not the Virgin Mary.”
***
The Avengers have been partying together all their life that they all had respected guest rooms. Had you stayed for a moment, you would have seen Natasha and Carol downing their shots too.
#avengers imagine#avengers x oceans 8#crossover fic#avengers x reader#oceans 8 x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#carol danvers x reader#maria hill x reader#tony stark x reader#thor odison x reader#loki odinson x reader#steve rogers x reader#valkyrie x reader#natasha romanoff#carol danvers#maria hill#tony stark#thor odinson#loki odinson#steve rogers#clint barton#valkyrie#avengers#imagine#raven writes
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
drunken sailors | connor & nell
TIMING: before nell’s drowning via constance.
PARTIES: @nelllraiser and @connorspiracy.
SUMMARY: a pair of drinks for a pair of friends leads to an evening of fun.
CONTENT: nsfw talk and implications.
Connor wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Surely Nell had just been messing with him about the sex toys. It wasn’t that he was opposed. He’d been propositioned in worse ways before, but he did his best to play it cool. As if he hadn’t showered and manscaped and worn one of his nicer-than-usual outfits. Not fancy or anything, just something that wasn’t an old hoodie. He used a subtle amount of cologne that would soon be covered by the strawberry scent of his vape as he waited outside for Nell to arrive. When he saw her approach, he flashed her a little smile. “So, were you going to mention the fact it looks like a dry cleaners outside or just come here expecting to laugh at me for standing around looking lost?”
Nell wasn’t the sort of girl who needed to be taken out or anything before having a good time between the sheets. In fact, she was generally quite the opposite. Why not just skip to the good part? Well— she supposed it wasn’t always good. But still- might as well know sooner rather than later, right? And Connor seemed nice enough. Nell was always up for fun when it came to bedroom activities, having little discretion concerning what other party was involved. Approaching the man in question, she gave him a curious once over, a prickle of uncertainty finding her as she realized he’d at least gone through some effort for the evening. It wasn’t that she hadn’t. After all, she’d donned an outfit that showed off the better parts of her assets, figuring that it would be as good an incentive for Connor as any. Something seemed...different between them. Almost as if they’d prepared for two different types of evening, though she wasn’t sure if she was entirely correct. Either way, she returned Connor’s grin, looking up at the dry cleaners in question. “What? No, I just thought we’d stop here first, right? Get our errands done and all that. Honestly, I can’t believe you’d think such a thing of me.” Even if it did sound exactly like something she would do. Nevertheless, she didn’t hesitate as the door opened, entering the bar as a heady rush of air whooshed out.
Connor shook his head with a playful little grin. Honestly, when he’d met Nell, he just wanted to see some demons, but he was starting to genuinely enjoy her company and humor. His life was so often filled with serious things; loss and tragedy and darkness, longing and despair. Nell was a little bit of levity in the sea of what-the-fuck. “Right, yeah, thought you’d make sure we’ve got clean clothes for tomorrow morning and all that,” he teased. “Give it a rest. I am a supernatural investigator you know. I asked around about the place.” He reached for the door, opening it for her. “After you.” Upon opening the door they were greeted with the sound of the jukebox playing, the soft knocking of pool balls against each other, and the casual chattering of the patrons. “Do they serve supernatural drinks here? You’ve been before, yeah? I’m excited for your recommendations.”
A half-smirk was quick to form on Nell’s lips as Connor mentioned a morning after. Okay, maybe they were still on similar pages. That was good. “So that means you’re still on for trying out those sex toys?” she teased, not yet saying outright that she’d be taking part as well as a means of dangling the bait a bit. A playful eyeroll was quick to follow his statement about his job, though she knew he did it well based on his YouTube channel. “Sorry, should I have brought you a deerstalker hat? Are you going to demand I call you Sherlock or something now? I think Nancy Drew might fit better.” Looking around at the patrons, she felt comfortable knowing that they all were a part of a similar world. The supernatural one. Even if she was still human, she’d always felt that supernaturals were more welcoming of witches than non-powered humans were, and such a thing had been proven in her life thus far. “Of course they serve supernatural drinks. What do you usually like?” she asked with a grin. “Then I can go from there.”
“To be honest,” Connor answered, an almost embarrassed chuckle, “I wasn’t sure if you were serious or just winding me up, so I didn’t want to assume.” He gave her a small smile. “But yeah, I’m game if you are.” He shook his head with an ‘oh, fuck off’ kind of grin at her Sherlock-Nancy Drew comment. “I prefer Ryan Bergara.” If she got that reference, he might just have to snog her there and then. “Well, nothing with blood in it. Nothing that’s going to make me too pissed to stand up straight, sexy as it would be for you to carry me home,” he teased. “Most places I go are so in denial about the supernatural, they don’t even have places like this, so the choice is yours, darling.”
Nell’s amusement only grew as she watched the young man do his best to reply, eyebrow raised as she waited. “Oh, so you’re wanting me to try them out as well?” she teased, unable to pass up the opportunity to do so. Obviously she’d been propositioning him, but it was a little too fun to joke around. “Is that a solo sort of situation or were you hoping for something else?” A small laugh fell from her before she answered, “You wanna be the one that’s basically notorious for being scared half the time?” She hadn’t watched the Buzzfeed Unsolved videos religiously, but every now and then they were amusing enough. A playful tsk of her tongue, and then she was leaning forwards over the bar, trying to catch the attention of the bartender. “Alright, fine...no blood,” she affirmed before placing their order. “So where all have you been?”
“To be honest, I figured you already had.” Connor grinned at her. “An experienced and adventurous young woman like yourself.” There was something very attractive about how forward she could be without being cringy. Most people couldn’t pull that off, but she had a natural confidence and charm that he found appealing. “Not the scared part. I meant more the curiosity and ability to think outside the box. Not that much scares me, love.” It was true he had a higher threshold for getting the spooks than most people, but Nell had seen first hand that scaring him wasn’t impossible. Just throw some hellhounds at him.
“Where have I been?” he repeated. Once they had called the bartender and Nell ordered their drinks, Connor also ordered some pretzels from the bar so he had something to munch on while they chatted. "Loads of the most haunted places in the UK. Pluckley Village, Blickling Hall, the Ancient Ram Inn, Chillingham Castle." He opened his pretzels, offering one to Nell. "Then I did Europe. Zvíkov Castle, Château de Brissac, Wolfsegg Castle. Obviously when I came to America I had to do The Stanley Hotel and the Winchester House, The Queen Mary. Loads of places. But not all haunted places are famous, too. Sometimes it's just some desperate person trying to get someone to believe them."
A small snort found its way through Nell, and she didn’t bother to hide the amusement on her face. “You caught me. But that’s probably the nicest way someone’s ever said it,” she chuckled. The witch knew she had a healthy sex life, and she’d never thought that a bad thing. Of course, her fellow high schoolers back in the day often had different ideas- especially when you were already essentially a social pariah. “Are you sure about that?” she instantly teased, most likely taking his bait. “I seem to remember you getting a little...concerned about some very cute hellhounds.” Soon enough their drinks had arrived, and Nell was raising her’s to Connor’s in a miniature toast before taking a sip. “Did you have a favorite?” she asked, interested to hear they’d been to some of the same countries. But she knew all too well what it was like to have someone hanging onto you as if you were their last hope, and nodded along with his words. She’d found enough of those in her travels, as well. “I ended up going to some really remote places because of people like that. Some of those places were my favorites, though.”
"Alright, that's different. You sprung 'em on me, literally," Connor teased, laughing. He took another pretzel as she asked about his favourite place he'd visited. "There's this place called 'The Cage'," he snickered at the tasteless name. "Lovely, eh? It's a house in Essex that used to be a medieval jail for people accused of witchcraft. Bloody ugly as well. Painted bright yellow on the outside, looks like it's never been redecorated, chains hanging off some of the walls. But a hotspot. Really interesting activity." He leaned a bit closer to her with a smile. "You're obviously not afraid to get stuck in with the supernatural. What got you into it? You don’t just spring from the womb summoning hellhounds and corpse-uncles."
“I warned you,” Nell insisted with a half-smirk and chuckle, having a bit too much fun prodding at Connor. This time she grabbed one of the pretzels as well, glad to be snacking on something while she listened. At the mention of taking witches prisoner, Nell hummed in discontent, her lips pressing together. “Half the time- I feel like they weren’t even real witches. Otherwise they probably would have escaped or something. Either way- what a bunch of dickwads.” Witches weren’t as prosecuted as supernaturals like shifters and fae, but they’d also been some of the most famously hunted. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of pissed off spirits there, though.” It would only make sense. His question about the supernatural caught her slightly off-guard, and she wasn’t entirely sure of an answer until it was coming out of her. “Well- I mean I was obviously raised as a witch by my family in my coven and everything. We’re all witches. I’ve known about the supernatural for as long as I can remember. Or did you mean past that?”
“Well, yeah, people accused of being witches, I should say.” Had Nell ever technically mentioned she was a witch? Connor tried to remember. He didn’t think so, but he’d sort of sussed it out from the summonings and the way she was acting now that he talked about them being locked up. “Half the time it was just people being bloody paranoid about herbal medicine or accusing someone for the sake of it.” And now she confirmed his suspicions about her being a witch. He nodded, understanding. “Whatever you fancy telling me, love,” he said casually, sipping his pint. “You seemed more interested in doing something else than talking, which I’m fine with,” he gave her a small smile. “Just thought I’d try and be something of a gentleman and have a drink with you before asking you to peg me.”
Now that Nell thought about it, she supposed she hadn’t outrightly said she was a witch. But hopefully her nodding along to Connor’s words of witches and warlocks in her greenhouse had been enough of a confirmation for him. “Literally- just paranoid normie humans being all worried about someone who has a little more power than them.” Well- a lot more power if she was being fair. Still- the stigma around witches was alive and well in the non-supernatural community. Growing up as something of a loner and outcast because of the strange happenings around her had been proof enough of that. Soon enough, the levity of the evening had returned, and Nell was freely laughing at Connor’s phrasing. “I already told you- I’m not a girl that needs to be wined and dined,” she replied with a grin. “As for the pegging- we’ll see what sort of mood I’m in when we get out of here. Which leads me to the next question of ‘do you wanna get out of here’?”
“Wined and dined?” Connor repeated, snickering. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket along with a lighter. “What about beer, pretzels and a ciggie?” He took another sip of his drink. Whatever Nell had got him was strong. He felt a pleasant tingling sensation in his fingertips, and a little more confident than a few minutes earlier. “Well, love, since smoking in bars and pubs is prohibited in Maine, reckon we should head back to yours. But I did enjoy the drink.” He hoped he wasn’t being too presumptuous, but given the direction their conversation had already taken, he wasn’t too worried. “We’ll see where the night - and whatever toys you’ve got - takes us, yeah?”
A light and playful eyeroll was Nell’s reaction to Connor’s words, though they’d also gotten another laugh from her. “No- a takis and cake kinda girl.” But his confirmation was all Nell needed to finish the last dregs of her drink before standing from the bar, and shooting him a knowing look. After all, she hadn’t been anything close to subtle. That was generally how she preferred it, though. No dancing around the subject or anything half as tedious. If she knew what she wanted, and they knew what they wanted- what was the point? “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Now she was headed for the door, and looking over her shoulder at Connor as she went. “I think I could handle that. I just hope you can,” she said as her last tease, ready to see where the night would lead.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 2: Nothing Personal
Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn
A03 Link
Author: @wordywarriorwrites
Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other.
A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky.
For: Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge.
Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities.
Steve watched with narrowed eyes as the woman behind the counter tongued a lollipop and denied knowing her boss’s whereabouts. He didn’t have time for bullshit, nor was he in the mood to be polite, and when she slurped and lied again, he snapped.
“Go back there and tell him Steve Rogers is here,” he ordered. “Do it, right fucking now, or I will make your death look like an unfortunate choking accident.”
The woman must’ve sensed it wasn’t an idle threat because she immediately dropped the candy into the trash and ran for the office door. Her rapid knocking resulted in her being told to “fuck off,” but the moment she stuttered his name, she was instructed to flip the sign, lock the front door, and get lost.
“Well, well, well,” Sam greeted. “Has the prodigal son finally returned?”
Steve unzipped his jacket, retrieved an envelope from the inner-pocket, and tossed it onto the counter. When Sam broke the seal, a lot of green was revealed, and he motioned for Steve to follow him.
As soon as the hidden panel in the back room slid open, a dark, twisted zing of excitement shot up his spine. This life and the behavior it evoked – it should’ve bothered him, but it didn’t. Like no time had passed at all, Sam followed him around the room, duffel bag at the ready, and packed up his selections. When asked what all the hardware was for, Steve said personal protection, and shoved another envelope of money into Sam’s hand.
“Steve, man, come on…”
“Take it. Call it an apology bonus.”
Sam handed over the bag and pocketed the cash, “He’s in charge now. You know that, right?”
Steve grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t comment. He’d been in town less than a week and had already heard all about what the man had been up to over the last five years. When Steve had known him, he’d been Bucky, but now, he went by JB, and his former best friend was at the tippy-top of the proverbial food chain.
There were six Families – Barton, Maximoff, Odinson, Stark, Rogers, and Barnes – and all their ancestors had taken a turn at the helm at one time or another. He and Bucky had been raised from birth to own and run the city, but they hadn’t just grown up and come up together – they’d gone through everything together. Puberty; initiation; coming out of the closet; bad breakups; first jobs; high school; college.
They’d even buried their first dead body together.
After graduation, Steve had a position lined up at a lucrative art gallery ripe for money laundering and weapons trafficking. Bucky threw himself in with the politicians and socialites, which provided ample opportunity for extortion and bribery. For nearly a decade, it had been simple, and it had made sense. They’d excelled; honed their skills; brought in more than enough money to appease. It hadn’t been perfect and they’d fucked up a few times, but no matter what, they’d always had each other’s backs.
Then, one night, Bucky got hurt during what was supposed to have been a routine job, and for Steve, it had changed everything…
He’d met Derek at a gallery opening.
They’d hit it off instantly; exchanged numbers; texted for over a week before finally going on a date. Derek was smart, flirtatious, down-to-earth, and so damn good looking. After their second date, Steve agreed to a nightcap, and followed Derek back to his place. The invitation had been a ploy they’d both been in on and they’d barely made it past the threshold.
“I want you,” he panted as he reached for Steve’s belt.
Steve groaned into Derek’s mouth, “You know I have a minimum three-date rule.”
“Which you know I find archaically sexy.”
“I really should go.”
“I really don’t want you to.”
Self-restraint was all well and good, but after such a long dry spell, it was difficult to stick to principle. It also didn’t help that Derek’s hands had found their way beneath his shirt and his mouth had latched onto a particular spot on Steve’s neck that really drove him crazy. He’d been seconds away from asking where the bedroom was when his cellphone rang, and the sound of Bucky’s ringtone brought him up short.
He knew Steve was on a date, but if Bucky was calling, it was important, and that meant he needed to answer. He apologized to Derek and retrieved his phone from his pocket.
“My best friend – he’s just checking in on me,” Steve explained.
“I completely understand and will make myself scarce,” he replied. “Just be sure to tell him how hot you think I am and that I’m not a serial killer, alright?”
Steve just smirked, and as soon as Derek was out of sight and earshot, he accepted the call. He’d been poised to tell Bucky his timing, per usual, was terrible, but the strained voice that rattled out his name killed both his arousal and his humor. Something had gone wrong and he didn’t hesitate – didn’t even tell Derek he was leaving – he just ran out the door, and got into his car. Bucky only managed to give him a street name before he started wheezing.
“I’m on my way,” Steve told him. “Just hang on. I’m comin’ for you, Buck.”
He couldn’t quite recall where exactly where he’d found Bucky, but he distinctly remembered the blood, and how it had looked as it trickled down his chin and spread all over the pavement. His pale face and cold hands; the absolute terror Steve had felt when he couldn’t get his best friend to wake up; the rage, horror, and regret; the frantic drive to the hospital; the nerve-wracking wait.
The Families made a show of support, but their concern for Bucky’s actual well-being had been feigned at best. Bucky had become a popular man, was well-liked in the territories he ran, and was one of the biggest earners they had. If they lost him, business would suffer, and that’s all they cared about.
While they were preoccupied with appearances, retaliation, and continued cash flow, Steve was losing his mind, because the only man he’d ever loved was hanging on by a thread. When they weighed Bucky’s chances of survival against the consequences of retribution, he knew they had to get out.
Bucky lived and recovered; in fact, he’d bounced back faster and better than anyone expected him to, and the fact that he carried on like a good, little soldier had pissed Steve off. The awkward conversation they had about it turned into a heated argument, and it wasn’t until they’d exchanged blows and Bucky had put Steve in a chokehold that he broke.
He admitted how scared he’d been; that he was furious with the Families; he couldn’t stand the thought of him being hurt again; he’d been in love with him since they were kids; couldn’t imagine life without him. Like a sinner who confessed to a priest, the multitude of iniquities spilled and spilled, but he knew there’d be no absolution – not in this lifetime, at least.
Steve hadn’t just blurred the boundaries of their friendship; he’d completely crossed the line. It could’ve been his admission, Bucky’s brush with death, or the fact they were just two, fucked up men with a lot of baggage – whatever it was, it shifted things between them. Bucky hadn’t commented on anything Steve had told him, but he’d definitely reacted. Instead of being restrained with malice, Steve found himself trapped by passion, and no words had been needed for that.
It had meant something to Steve, but for Bucky, it had been nothing more than a pity fuck…
“You know you can’t hide from him.”
He tore himself away from the bitter musings and looked at Sam, “Who says I’m hiding?”
“He’ll go right for your throat.”
“Careful, Sam, or I’ll start to think you actually care what happens to me.”
“You know I always liked you best.”
Steve rolled his eyes and shouldered the bag, “And on that note.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered as they exited the back room.
He took a different route back to the car, but with each step, the sensation of being followed intensified. When he reached the vehicle, he put the bag in the front passenger seat, shut the door, and slowly turned around. A few moments later, Natasha stepped into the alley, and her appearance meant there would be no meeting in Prospect Park.
“Rogers,” she greeted quietly.
“Romanoff,” he replied back.
Natasha took another step forward, “This isn’t personal.”
Steve nodded once, “I know.”
When presented with a difficult decision, the Families either discussed it, ignored it, or threw money at it. They hadn’t invited him for a sit-down, let alone attempted to bribe him, and he knew they wouldn’t have taken him down in public, which meant it wasn’t a fully planned, sanctioned hit.
Bucky would’ve backed down or at the very least done it himself.
JB had pulled rank and sent someone else to do his dirty work.
“Just make it quick,” he told her.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I will.”
Steve showed her his empty hands and it lulled her into a false sense of security. She reached for her weapon and he allowed her to. Then, without reluctance or mercy, used her own tactics against her.
An abrupt intake of breath; a sudden cough; a low groan of pain.
The retractable wrist blade had slipped right between her ribs and punctured a lung.
Steve withdrew the knife and watched as Natasha slowly fell to her knees on the dirty, wet pavement. He found her phone in her pocket, thought about using it to call her an ambulance, but reconsidered. Instead, he demanded she unlock it, and after she did, he brought up good ol’ JB’s number.
“Is it done?” he asked by way of greeting.
“No,” Steve answered coldly. “But if you hurry, she might live.”
Chapter 3: Sleight
Everything:
@jennmurawski13
@nerdy-bookworm-1998
Steve Rogers:
@patzammit
@hearttoearth
The Boss of Brooklyn:
@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan
@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety
@captain-rogers-beard
@lilliannaansalla
#stucky fanfic#stucky drabble#stucky fanfiction#stucky oneshot#stucky imagine#stucky smut#mob boss au james barnes#mob boss au bucky barnes#steve rogers x bucky barnes fanfic#steve rogers x bucky barnes fanfiction#steve x bucky fanfic#steve x bucky fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#the boss of brooklyn#wordywarriorwrites
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Thoughts on Endgame
I went to see Endgame last night and have had all day up in my office all alone to compile my thoughts and feelings, of which there are numerous, about the movie while it’s all still fresh. Major spoilers below the cut, so if you haven’t seen it, back away!
Warning: Super long post ahead.
First, I’d like to say I am a Tony/Nebula stan, wholeheartedly. Somehow, the Russos managed to lighten up a very dark reality where Tony and Nebula are floating listlessly in space and running out of oxygen. The dark mood is made a little lighter by a noticeably very thin Tony teaching Nebula about paper footballs, and her innocence of Earthly activities gave her a human depth that only made me fall even deeper in love with her character. And the way she pushes Tony’s (probably last) bag of food towards him, knowing he needs it more than she does. (Does she even eat? Do cyborgs eat?)
Second, Clint’s family disappearing was the first time I cried. Honestly, I didn’t have a dry eye the entire movie, but it progressively got harder and harder for me to not sob. We’ll get to that.
Carol popping out of literal space to come cart Tony’s ass home was admittedly a little cheesy, but I didn’t hate it. What I really loved was Tony’s reunion with both Steve and Pepper, and the fight that ensued, mostly on Tony’s end, was emotional and so very Tony that I still had a hard time keeping it together. And I’m really glad that the Russos didn’t just skip over Civil War in favor of uniting everyone to take down Thanos for good. And it showed how broken up over it Tony still was because we all know Tony does have a heart and Steve Rogers broke it.
An appropriate time skip 5 years into the future and Scott Fucking Lang and that goddamn rat busts out of the Quantum Realm only to discover almost his entire family has been dusted. Ouch. And once he finds his daughter, instead of moping and falling into a pit of depression and grief, he hauls ass to the compound to talk to the Avengers about time travel and undoing everything.
Here’s where Meg really loses her mind. The teams. The effort to get the stones back. Natasha Fucking Romanoff schooling the Science Bros in figuring out there are three stones in New York all at once. Fucking Captain Sassypants fighting his 2012 self and Mr. Stark Scott Lang (i’ve been corrected) perfectly coining the term “America’s Ass” and Steve just going with it. I can’t with these two, honestly. Steve swearing. Talk about sticking it to Joss Whedon for that pathetic little joke we all thought was funny until we knew better. That whole sequence was perfect, especially because it didn’t go off without a hitch. Which means Loki is still alive somewhere in another reality. Yahoo!
Thor. Poor alcoholic, out of shape, PTSD-stricken Thor. My baby angel. It hurt to see him so lost and broken, but Korg and Meike playing Fortnite about killed me. The balance of humor to sadness was utterly perfect through this whole movie and it was all comprised of jokes that made sense. The fat suit made me cry of laughter because it looks so goddamn unnatural on someone who’s as cut as Hemsworth, and Tony’s Lebowski dig was wholly appropriate.
This is where Meg realizes she is not going to be okay for the eightieth time. When Nat and Hawkeye are delegated to retrieve the Soul Stone, because we know while they don’t what needs to be done in order to get the stone. I had a feeling Nat might be one of the ones we lost, but I have to say I never saw it coming like this. I was inconsolable through the entire sequence as she and Clint are fighting over who’s going to be the one to die. I had my sweatshirt over my nose to stifle my sobbing and my boyfriend’s looking over at me wondering if I’m going to be okay. Y’all should see my eyes today, no lie.
And the fact that they played the same music for Nat that they did Gamora in IW was the knife through my heart followed by that heart-wrenching shot of her lying dead at the bottom. She’s gotten rid of the red in her ledger. Natasha, my beautiful, intelligent, bad-ass, super spy, we love you. So much.
Steve in mourning for Nat deserved more screen time than just a quick shot of him crying while Banner pitches a bench across the lake. Steve and Nat were one of the powerhouse friendships of the MCU, and this is one of the few shortcomings of Endgame. I wanted to see Steve angry, and heartbroken, something on par with Clint’s outburst that it should have been him. Steve and Nat were best friends, he deserved a little more screen time to mourn such a powerful relationship.
The epic battle scene that follows after this is nothing short of incredible. The entire theater erupted in cheers when Steve wielded Mjolnir like he was meant to, so at least Joss Whedon got some foreshadowing right! At first I thought it was lifting by itself but nope! Steve is worthy, and he knows he’s worthy. There’s an incredible theory out there that Mjolnir can detect someone’s perceived self-worth, and I fully believe that theory after watching this movie. And the little humor in there when Steve ends up with Stormbreaker and Thor gets Mjolnir and says, “No, no, give me that. You get the little one.” Kill me. The fact that Thor is doing all this badass fighting with a beer gut leaves me in stitches just thinking about it.
That epic entrance of all those who fell to the Snap emerging in a beautifully shot sequence gives me life, okay? It was perfect. I even looked to my boyfriend and said, “Where are the others? If it worked, where are they?” and BOOM! There they all are. Bucky with his long-ass hair is such a fucking look, I can’t even. AND STEVE FINALLY SAID THE THING. I swear the entire theater cheered again for this!! Also Rocket wearing Bucky’s goggles that he probably stole? Epic. Even if they aren’t his, but you can’t really convince me they’re not because they’re too similar. So Rocket hasn’t lost his penchant for stealing things.
Okoye, fierce queen, we see you taking out Corvus Glave all on your own. We also see that amazing, powerful female battle squad who cut through Thanos’s army like it was fucking tissue paper. Wanda, the Strongest Avenger (fight me on that, I dare you), taking on Thanos and stripping him of his armor like the fucking boss she is. Say it with me again: Strongest Avenger.
I also really really loved the game of Hot Potato with the gauntlet. Which brings us to...Mr. Anthony Edward Stark. The OG, the Big Guy. These next two paragraphs will be dedicated to him. The man who, 7 years ago, told us he would just “cut the wire” rather than lay his life on the line to save the other guy. When Dr. Strange said to Tony, “If I tell you what happens, it won’t happen,” I really, truly believed that Strange didn’t think Tony would go through with sacrificing himself in order to stop Thanos. He’d try to find another way. And yet I, along with a lot of others, knew he would do just that. Because Tony is nothing if not determined to prove everyone wrong about who they think he is, including Steve Rogers. Especially Steve Rogers.
Tony gets to interact with his father and learns that while Howard was incredibly flawed, he was still wholly dedicated to his family. Proven by his nervousness about fatherhood because all he’s ever known is technology, and he knows a child does not work the same way tech does. He’s terrified. And he hides, buries himself in his work because he doesn’t know what to do. But he loves his family, I know he does. A lot of other people know he does. I was a mess for that whole thing, too.
Tony’s funeral was absolutely perfect, a perfect sendoff to this legendary man who basically built the MCU. RDJ, we love you 3000. Thank you for giving us Iron Man. Thank you for carrying us through this journey of hilarity, sadness, darkness, anger, grief, all of it. I have a ton of emotions over RDJ’s exit from the MCU but I can’t properly formulate words.
ALSO: HARLEY WAS AT TONY’S FUNERAL. HE WAS THE LONE OLDER TEENAGER. CUE MORE CRYING FROM MEG.
And the final bit that seems to cause a lot of dissatisfaction: Steve’s final decision.
I personally loved it. I don’t like the misstep in jumping over Steve and Bucky’s bond, because that was a driving force for an entire movie, Russo brothers. So I feel a little cheated with their relationship taking a backseat to Sam receiving the shield to take up the Captain America mantle. But aside from that, Steve’s decision was very, very fitting. He’s given so much of himself to wars and other people that he deserves to be selfish. And maybe he had that quote in AOU that someone else came out of the ice, but A4 Steve knew he could have that life, and he chose it. Bucky knew, almost instantly, when Steve was about to bring the stones back, which was why he was so relaxed and calm when he didn’t come back.
Bucky, I feel, is relieved above all to see Steve reach old age, since he probably never expected him to, at least before he became Captain America. He’s lived his life as Cap, and now he gets to live another as the man who finally got the girl. I just wish we could have seen more of the bond between the two of them, unless they had some kind of heart to heart off-screen which, again, a waste of one of the quintessential relationships in Steve Rogers’s life.
And Bucky and Sam having some kind of mutual understanding, I know for a fact there was some reconciliation in the Soul World that we may or may not get to see in the new series coming out. I would love to see the two of them struggle with coming to grips with the fact that they were dead, and came back because their friends put themselves on the line at an incredible risk to try and bring everyone back. I think they could really create a bond similar to Steve and Bucky’s that was built on being “men out of time” and instead create a bond that’s men who survived the Snap and now are living a life without Steve Rogers (assuming he won’t take up the mantle again and will succumb to old age, like he goddamn deserves). Bucky is all for Sam taking that mantle, and that second of understanding between the two of them sent me off into another cry fest because I really love their dynamic, and Seb and Mackie both just have amazing on-screen chemistry. I am so excited to see what they bring to the new series coming out.
I would also like to say that while I was very emotional over Steve hearing Sam’s voice over comms saying, “On your left,” I really feel that Bucky should’ve had something. That’s really where Endgame’s biggest shortcoming is. They’ve built up the relationship between Bucky and Steve through CTFA, CATWS, and CACW, especially Civil War, and all you’re going to give them is four minutes of screen time together? Outta here with that. You dedicated an entire movie to Steve going to war for Bucky and y’all are gonna disrespect them like that? Even not shipping Stucky romantically, I can see the loving bond between the two of them that’s held up for 8 years. They deserved more than just a one-off line from CATFA, though that really set me off on another crying spree. I’m really not joking when I said there wasn’t a minute of that movie that I was dry-eyed.
Overall, I give this movie a 10/10. For what it was meant to be, it was everything I had expected and so much more. This movie made me roar with laughter, broke my heart more than once, and gave me an overall feeling of closure all at once. I am forever grateful to the cast, the crew, and the amazing characters created. The incredible late Stan Lee with his final cameo, to which the theater, again, erupted in applause. I’m just so overwhelmed by the work everyone at Marvel has put in to these characters and this world to give us these amazing stories. I’m tearing up as I write this because this is the end of an era for a lot of people who grew up with Iron Man, Hulk, Cap, Thor.... Black Widow. I just want to extend the biggest of thank yous to all of those people who made this world possible and brought so many people together.
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: I Think I Like You
Rating: E
Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Jon Kortajarena
Word count: 5.2k
Summary: Only occasional acquaintances before, Jon and Sebastian hit the same party in NYC and click instantly. What happens after, neither one of them will ever forget.
A/N: Aaaaand here we have a prequel! Sorry that it’s not the next chapter but inspiration struck and then it deserted me halfway through and I had the hardest time finishing this but I FINALLY DID lol (writing is haaaaard) so I hope this was worth the effort. Thank you to @captainrogerrsbeard for her beautiful mooooodboard and for always helping me with EVERYTHING I write, ily wife :) I hope you guys like this! (Also to clarify, this is set before those pics of them together from Feb 2018, so it’s my little imaginary explanation for that devilish smile Seb was wearing lol)
Sebastian was feeling damn good on one particular Saturday night in January of 2018. He was fresh off the critical success of I, Tonya, on the verge of starting a new project the following month that he had even higher hopes for, and to top it all off, he was newly single and living it up at a brand new NYC nightclub with his friends. He was starting a new chapter of his life that just might prove to be one of the best, and if that wasn’t worth celebrating he didn’t know what was.
Clad in a black suit with no tie and the top three buttons undone, still sporting his wonderfully full beard and fluffy head of dark hair, Sebastian was three drinks and two shots in when the alcohol finally started to really hit his veins. He was at a sprawling table in a VIP room with a few of his oldest New York friends and some new ones as well, laughing a story the woman next to him was telling and finding his eyes continuously drifting across the table towards a certain rather beautiful man. He was trying not to be so obvious about it but the thing was... the man seemed to be unable to keep his eyes off of Sebastian, too.
Sebastian knew Jon to a small degree already, having met him in passing before thanks to their shared agent and their paths crossing once or twice thanks to her. He knew that Jon was a model and actor from Spain, currently single as far as he knew, and thanks to the last few hours he’d spent in his company he now also knew that his laugh was infectious and that he had a sharp sense of humor. His accent was heavy and delightful because of it, and Sebastian couldn’t deny it - he could sit there all night just watching him and listening to him, and he’d be perfectly content.
And while he couldn’t do that, he could enjoy the view while it lasted. And that view got even better when Jon stole one of the seats next to Seb when its previous occupant got up to dance, flashing him a charming smile as he settled in and asked, “Mind if I sit here?”
“Oh, not at all,” Sebastian grinned, getting a whiff of Jon’s cologne with his new proximity. He tried not to bite his lip, taking a sip of his whiskey and trying to keep himself in check and not display his thirst so openly. But God, it had been so long since he’d been truly single and his spirits were so damn high and he was sitting next to a fucking supermodel so beautiful he was worthy of having sonnets written in his honor.
“All the interesting people are leaving,” Jon bemoaned, gesturing to the table and all the empty seats left by their friends who were now dancing. “Are you going to leave me next?”
Sebastian chuckled, Jon pouting playfully. “Probably not.”
“Do you not like to dance?”
“Oh, I like dancing fine,” Sebastian shrugged. “Just gotta be in the mood, you know?”
Jon nodded, quirking an impressive brow. “What are you in the mood for, Sebastian?”
Sebastian grinned slowly, licking his lips without even realizing it as his cheeks heated up. Thank God his beard covered up at least some of his blush. “Honestly, I could just sit here and listen to you talk all night. About anything.”
“Anything?” Jon laughed, and Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You flatter me.”
“I mean it,” Sebastian insisted. “You should do voice work. You were made for it, man.”
Jon shook his head modestly. “That means a lot, coming from you. You’re great at what you do.”
Now it was Sebastian’s turn to brush off the compliment, sighing, “I try my best. There’s a lot of better actors out there.”
“But you are always the standout in your work,” Jon insisted. When Sebastian looked like he was getting ready to protest Jon quickly added, “It’s true! You always catch my eye, every time in every role that I’ve seen. And not just because you’re so pretty.”
Sebastian’s mouth fell open for one long second before he groaned and brought a hand to his suddenly very flushed face. Jon laughed at his adorable discomfort as Sebastian squirmed, dying inside from the praise that he hadn’t been expecting. He tried his best to pull himself together quickly as he replied, “Well... thank you, but -“
“No,” Jon interrupted gently. “No ‘but’. Accept my compliments.”
Jon’s tone, while playful, was firm and left no room for argument, and Sebastian felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He was always a sucker for a beautiful man with a firm hand, and the vibes that he’d been getting from Jon all night... oh man.
“Yes sir,” Sebastian retorted teasingly, and the look that Jon rewarded him with was nothing short of sinful. It made Sebastian’s throat run dry and heart race, staring back at him and knowing full well what was happening between them. He wasn’t simply drunk and imagining the chemistry there - it was real, and Jon was making no secret of it either. He dragged his eyes up and down Sebastian’s body and made a show of it, and Sebastian was seconds away from opening his mouth and making something happen when suddenly two hands landed on his arm and began literally pulling him away.
“Sebby, Sebby!” came the drunken giggles of Lara, another friend whom Sebastian usually would not have been instantly irritated at like he currently was. “Come dance, come on! You too, Jon!”
Sebastian resisted for a moment and looked at Jon for help, but all Jon did was smile and shrug. “I never can say no to a pretty face.”
Sebastian wanted to whine and kick his feet like a child but instead he sucked it up and stood up, letting Lara drag him to the dance floor while Jon stayed behind by a few seconds to drain his own drink first before joining them. Seb was in even less of a dancing mood now, but... well, maybe it would be a good way to clear his head and get him thinking properly again before he did something potentially stupid, like throw himself at a new friend and jump into bed with him before either of them knew what they were even doing.
Naturally, however, dancing didn’t clear his mind a damn bit. Instead it did the exact opposite, and Sebastian wouldn’t dare complain because holy fuck.
First he danced with Lara and a few others, the liquor he’d consumed giving him confidence and making him feel lighter on his feet than he really was. He started having real, genuine fun two songs in, laughing with his friends and wondering why he’d been so resistant to this idea as he turned around and suddenly ran directly into the chest of a man taller than himself. His scent gave him away, and Sebastian knew who he’d just collided with before he opened his eyes and looked up.
Jon grinned back at him, steadying Seb with a firm hand on his waist. “Enjoying yourself?”
Sebastian instantly forgot everyone else, Jon’s hand on him and unbearably close proximity taking up all of his focus and leaving none to spare. “Yeah.”
Jon’s hand slipped around to his lower back, pressing gently to pull him closer as he started dancing slowly. “Good.”
Sebastian swallowed hard, his arms dangling at his sides and brain short circuiting as it tried and failed to figure out what to do. His body was swaying of its own accord, moving with Jon slowly but deliberately, and he wanted to reach up and touch him and really dance with him but they were far from alone and Sebastian never knew who was watching and who might sell him out to a tabloid for a quick dollar. It was unfortunate but true, especially on a night like this when the club was packed and there were eyes everywhere.
“Relax, Sebastian,” Jon murmured into his ear as he guided him deeper into the crowd, away from the lights and into a corner of the dance floor that was far from private but a little less easily seen and a little more hidden. Then he reached down and took one of Sebastian’s hands, guiding his arm up and over his own shoulder until it was draped comfortably. “Move with me.”
Fuck it, Sebastian decided. He grinned up at Jon, letting instinct take the reins as he started dancing to the pulsing music and stopped caring about who might see. He’d earned the right to live a little, and Jon’s free spirit was infectious and a vibrant contrast to Sebastian’s ever-present underlying anxiety. He just might be good for him, Seb thought as he slipped closer and gave in, letting Jon take the lead.
It was fun and heated and left Sebastian feeling lightheaded in the very best ways. Jon was a natural dancer and seemed to revel in leading Seb, keeping it light and easy and playful until that just wasn’t enough anymore. Sebastian felt the shift when Jon suddenly spun him around and pulled him back against his chest, warm breath tickling Seb’s ear and sending a shiver down his spine as they started rocking together.
Sebastian let his eyes flutter shut and gripped the strong arm across his middle holding him in place, his body pulsing and feeling like a live wire with each point of contact between himself and Jon. He loved the height difference between them, loved feeling a little smaller and relying on Jon to guide him, and he knew he wasn’t the only one loving it. Jon couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of him, dragging the tip of his nose up and down the side of Sebastian’s neck and sending shivers down his spine and his blood racing south.
It was then that Sebastian took a chance, letting his free hand rise up and slip into Jon’s hair, letting him know through that touch how much he was enjoying himself. Jon grew a little bolder then, his hands roaming down to Sebastian’s hips and lips brushing his jaw, the touch feather light and careful but very much there and clear in intent. If there was any doubt, the growing hardness that Sebastian felt behind him laid it to rest, and he was fucking fine with that. In fact, he decided that he’d had enough of this and turned around to face Jon, their bodies pausing the dance as Sebastian grabbed Jon’s collar and pulled him close.
But he wasn’t pulling him in for a kiss. Instead he brought his lips to Jon’s ear and asked over the music, “Wanna get out of here?”
Jon responded with a pleased chuckle and a hand on Sebastian’s ass, giving it a squeeze as he replied, “That’s all I’ve wanted all night.”
Sebastian pulled away and grinned at those unexpected words. Then he looked around them just long enough to check for prying eyes before leaning up and kissing Jon firmly, taking him by a very pleasant surprise. He’d wanted to taste those perfect lips for hours, and they felt even better than he’d imagined. Jon kissed him with an enticing mixture of teasing and open hunger, his tongue colliding filthily with Sebastian’s before they pulled away panting and gazing at each other.
“I knew you’d be good kisser with that mouth,” Jon murmured, thumb sweeping over Sebastian’s bottom lip.
Sebastian simply grinned and leaned in a little closer to reply lowly, “My mouth is good at a lot of things.”
Jon’s eyes grew dark with surprise and pure arousal as he then all but growled, “Let’s go. Now.”
Sebastian couldn’t have agreed more.
---
The front door slamming behind them with a jarring thud, Sebastian’s back hit the wall and he had only a fraction of a second to grin before Jon was on him and kissing him like his life depended on it. It was all tongue and groans and hands everywhere, frantic and hungry and fuck Sebastian just knew this was gonna be good, better than anything he’d had in months.
Jon hurriedly yanked off Sebastian’s jacket and let it hit the floor, reaching for his shirt next as they kissed hard and breathless. Sebastian couldn’t breathe and he didn’t care, burying his hands in Jon’s hair as Jon tried to work the buttons of Seb’s shirt open, but between the alcohol clouding his head and the desire spurring him on it was next to impossible. Out of patience and perhaps not having any to begin with, Jon simply ripped his shirt apart and sent buttons flying everywhere as Sebastian broke the kiss with a soft gasp.
Sebastian looked down, cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open. Then he slowly looked up at Jon, both of them breathing hard as he marveled, “Nobody’s ever actually ripped my clothes off before.”
“Then you’ve been choosing the wrong lovers,” Jon replied with a smirk before grabbing him and turning him around, shoving him against the wall before pulling off his shirt and bringing his lips to his neck. “You like it rough, don’t you?”
“God yes,” Sebastian confessed, Jon’s hands on his chest and sliding down, down, down until one ghosted over the front of his pants and gripped him through them. Sebastian let out a gruff noise and scrabbled his fingers against the wall, forehead pressed against it as Jon started rubbing him teasingly slow through the fabric.
“I knew you’d be fun,” Jon said between kisses, licking over a bruise he’d sucked into Sebastian’s neck and grinding into his ass, making no effort to hide how badly he wanted him.
Sebastian moaned from all the sensations, rocking back against Jon and craving him inside of him, stomach clenching and breath hitching at the mere thought. “Fuck, stop teasing me,” he suddenly groaned, surprising himself with the words but God he meant them. “Need you to fuck me.”
Jon responded by turning him back around and kissing him soundly, knocking his head back against the wall with the force of the kiss before drawing back just long enough to murmur, “Where’s your bedroom?”
Sebastian then grabbed his hand and took off, guiding him to his room and feeling like it took them a million years to finally get there. Once they did he turned around and pulled Jon in for another rushed, almost sloppy kiss, reaching for Jon’s shirt and quickly ridding him of it and, once he got a full look at the toned and mouth watering chest that had been hiding under his clothes, he steered Jon to the side of his bed and sat him down.
Jon reached out to pull Seb down with him but Sebastian sunk down to his knees between Jon’s legs before he could stop him. Sebastian looked up through his lashes as he worked Jon’s pants open, Jon gently cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb over his chin and the soft facial hair that covered it.
“This,” he said, pressing on the gray portions of the beard, “I like this. It suits you.” He watched as Sebastian blushed faintly over the compliment, and when he ran his thumb over Sebastian’s lower lip he didn’t hesitate to flick his tongue over the tip and then suck it into his mouth. “Oh, Sebastian... you need a cock to suck on, don’t you?”
“Yes sir,” Sebastian breathed, releasing his thumb as he got Jon’s pants open and pulled his cock free. He took a moment to take it in, gripping it gently and stroking a few times, mouth watering with desire. “Fuck, Jon...”
“Go on, sweet boy,” Jon purred, threading his fingers in Sebastian’s hair and gently pulling him down. Sebastian loved it, Jon holding him in place as he licked the tip of his cock, swirled his tongue and then ducked down to lick from the bottom to the top. Then Sebastian took a breath and sucked him down, and the rough Spanish curse that left Jon’s lips was a sound that would haunt Sebastian’s mind for weeks to come, he just knew it.
He poured everything he had into it, doing everything he could to blow Jon’s mind and leave an impression he wouldn’t forget. It helped that he loved doing this and knew that he was damn good at it, having brushed up on his skills once or twice since becoming single. But none of his recent casual hookups had inspired the sort of determination and passion that he felt now, his enthusiasm only growing with each deep groan from Jon’s mouth and the tantalizing trickle of pre-come he worked out of him.
“God you taste good,” Sebastian panted, pulling off just long enough to murmur those words and suck in a breath before diving back in. He worked Jon like his life depended on it, losing himself to it and getting so caught up that he was taken fully by surprise when Jon started tugging him away and telling him to stop before it was too late.
Sebastian let him go with a slight whine, looking up at Jon and knowing he looked like the picture of sin - swollen lips, cheeks flushed, chin wet and eyes wild with arousal.
“You were made for that, Sebastian,” Jon marveled, pulling him up closer. “Look at you. You’re so hungry, aren’t you?”
“Yes sir,” Sebastian sighed, shuddering when Jon kissed him. “Didn’t wanna stop.”
“Such a good boy,” Jon murmured, saying it as an experiment. When Sebastian blushed and closed his eyes in response, Jon grinned in satisfaction. He was getting to know what made Sebastian tick, and neither of them were even fully naked yet. “Stand up.”
Sebastian obeyed, rising to his feet and letting Jon work his pants down and off of his legs. Jon rubbed him gently through his boxer briefs before tugging those down too, and once they were out of the way he tugged him closer and wrapped a hand around his painfully hard cock, giving him a few strokes to give him a little relief.
“You’re beautiful,” Jon told him, gazing at Sebastian’s naked body in a way that made Seb flush and want to squirm and duck his eyes away. “Get on the bed. On your back. Now, baby.”
Sebastian scrambled to obey, climbing on the bed and doing exactly as he was told as Jon stood to rid himself of the last of his own clothes. Sebastian laid back on his pillows, watching with great anticipation as Jon rounded the bed first to poke around in Seb’s nightstand. Sebastian held back a whine as he waited, reaching down to palm at himself impatiently only to be interrupted by Jon giggling - giggling - and pulling out a roll of condoms that Sebastian had completely forgotten about.
“Your commitment to your character is... admirable,” Jon grinned, showing Seb the condoms bearing the image of Captain America’s shield.
“Oh my god,” Sebastian groaned, cheeks going red. “Those aren’t mine. I mean, they’re mine, but I didn’t get them - my friend did as a joke and I just forgot -“
“I think it’s cute,” Jon assured him, tossing them back into the drawer and grabbing a different one along with a mostly full bottle of lube. He tossed them on the bed and then finally climbed on himself, Sebastian reaching for him like he was starved as Jon slid on top of him and smiled, “Impatient?”
Sebastian answered with a furious kiss, unable to get close enough fast enough. With no clothes in the way now and just skin pressed against skin, Sebastian’s need for Jon eclipsed all reason and he simply had to have him now. He relished in having Jon’s weight above him, being underneath his taller body and yielding control to him, maybe not knowing him very well but enough to trust him with this.
Sebastian was whiny and needy and vocal, murmuring an almost desperate fuck me between kisses only to have Jon chuckle and pull away. “Not yet, darling. I’m not done playing yet.”
Sebastian whimpered but didn’t argue, hardly able to protest when Jon began to kiss his way down his body. He was thorough in his exploration and left no part of Seb untouched, murmuring words Sebastian couldn’t understand in between lavishing kisses all over his body. It was a little more than he would have expected from a one night stand but he loved it, wound up so tight by the time that Jon was settled between his legs that the first stroke of Jon’s hand on his cock nearly had him shooting off the bed.
Jon soothed him with kisses on his hipbone, grinning at his enthusiasm and stroking him far more leisurely than Sebastian would have liked. “You are so needy,” he noted, leaning in and flicking out his tongue against the tip. “Relax, I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Then Jon’s beautiful mouth joined his hand in expertly working him, and Sebastian let out a shaky, grateful moan as his head dropped back into the pillows. He only stayed like for a moment though, needing to watch and enjoy the show that Jon was putting on. He looked painfully beautiful like that, hair falling into his eyes and sharp cheeks hollowed as he sucked, and Sebastian was so thoroughly caught up and damn near hypnotized that the first brush of a slick finger further south took him by complete surprise and had his entire body jolting. He hadn’t even seen him grab the lube and hadn’t even noticed Jon spreading his legs wider to position him how he wanted him.
Jon simply glanced up and shot Sebastian a devilish look without taking his mouth off of him, teasing him with that finger and slowly sliding it inside once he’d relaxed into the touch. Sebastian cursed low and broken and slid a trembling hand into Jon’s hair, the fleeting initial pain melting into pleasure fast and God he hadn’t had anything this good in so damn long.
It was an intoxicating blur of pleasure, Sebastian completely lost to it as Jon took care to keep him from finishing too early. He had to pull off completely for a few minutes when he was two fingers deep, watching Sebastian’s flushed chest rise and fall and his hands fist the sheets. Then once Sebastian had almost caught his breath Jon swallowed him back down, and he repeated the cycle until Sebastian was opened up for him and on the verge of losing his mind and all but begging him to fuck him.
“Please please please, fuck, Jon, I need it,” Sebastian whimpered, his words answered with Jon pulling off for good and removing his fingers. He groaned at the loss of sensations but then Jon was moving back up and capturing his lips in a filthy kiss, reaching blindly for the condom he’d grabbed and pulling away only to hurriedly open it and put it on while Sebastian watched hungrily.
Then he dove back down, kissing Sebastian deep and murmuring, “Are you ready, Sebastian?”
Sebastian nodded, wrapping his legs around Jon’s waist and pushing up against him for emphasis. “God yes, I’m so ready.”
Jon wasted no time then in giving them what they both needed, guiding himself in and sinking into Sebastian slowly. He watched as Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut and tension crossed his features, body tightening instinctively until he relaxed into the intrusion. The truth was that Seb liked that part and always had, the pleasure/pain making him feel more alive than almost anything else ever did, and this time was no exception. Jon was a lot to take and by the time that he was fully seated, Sebastian was dazed and breathing hard enough to prompt Jon to kiss his jaw and ask gently, “Are you okay, darling?”
Sebastian grunted to the affirmative, then licked his lips and forced his brain to form words. “I am... so fucking okay, Jon.”
Jon groaned at those words and kissed him, starting to move slowly and gently. He was only careful until Sebastian started moving with him and roaming his hands up and down his back, urging him for more, and that was when he started really moving.
The first time he hit that spot within Sebastian just right, Sebastian gasped and Jon dropped his head against his neck, murmuring words that Sebastian didn’t understand but desperately wanted to. He was so curious, in fact, that he gave Jon’s hair a light tug and asked sweetly, “What’re you saying? I wanna know...”
“I am saying,” Jon replied, lifting his head and looking Sebastian in the eyes as he rocked into him, “that you feel so tight and so perfect, I don’t want this to end.”
Sebastian blushed and bit his lip, rocking with him harder, wanting to take him deeper, feel him for days. “Fuck, Jon, you’re gonna kill me.”
“I hope not,” Jon chuckled breathlessly, leaning in until they were a breath apart and dropping his voice down low. “Because then how would I make love to you in the morning?”
The words were enough to make Sebastian moan out loud and press his nails into Jon’s back, asking wordlessly for more and getting it as Jon picked up the pace. He wanted this, wanted more in the morning, wanted anything this man would give him, and nobody had made him feel like this in a long, long time. Not the guy he’d hooked up with last month, not the woman he’d taken to bed not long after, none of the people he’d given it a go with since calling his last relationship quits. Jon was unexpected but damn if they didn’t have better sexual chemistry off the bat than anyone in Sebastian’s recent memory.
Jon began to drive into him with more and more determination as the blissful moments carried on, pausing only to adjust Sebastian a bit and hold up his leg, the new shift in angle making him take Seb deeper and pulling a moan so loud from his throat that the neighbors had to hear it. It only made Jon smile, proud of his ability to fuck this beautiful man into such a glorious and careless mess, and after that it wasn’t long until they were both on the edge and simply couldn’t hold back anymore.
Sebastian was cursing and half-babbling nonsense, his entire world reduced to nothing but the pleasure he was engulfed in and the man responsible for it all. It only became more mind-blowingly intense when he felt Jon’s hand on his cock, stroking fast in time with his thrusts as his deep voice demanded in his ear, “Come for me, Sebastian, sweet boy. Let go, make a mess on us.”
He couldn’t have held back if he tried. He came harder and longer than he had ever in recent memory, every loud noise and breathless gasp and shudder of his body completely out of his control. He had just enough awareness left to register the sound of Jon cursing and slamming into him hard as he followed right after, holding Sebastian tight as they both lost themselves to the sort of pleasure that could only come from being with the right partner.
It was, Sebastian knew, without a doubt the best casual sex he’d ever had. And he’d had some good casual sex in his day, to be sure, but this... this was the kind of stuff that made him wanna sit down and write fucking poetry, and he wasn’t a damn poet.
But all of those thoughts were inconsequential for the time being, Sebastian floating deeply and sleepily in a state of pure haze and satisfaction. He only came back around when he felt the bed depress next to him, which was when he realized Jon had gotten up at some point. He was so blissed out he hadn’t even registered it, but now Jon was leaning over him and cleaning him up with a warm towel, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and his gorgeous eyes soft but still mischievous when they met Sebastian’s.
“I thought you might have fallen asleep,” Jon confessed, still gloriously naked himself. Sebastian shook his head, the smell of the tobacco hitting his nose and prompting him to reach up and steal the cigarette, placing it between his own lips and inhaling as Jon watched.
“Almost,” he replied, blowing out a cloud of smoke. He took another drag and then placed the cigarette back where he’d plucked it from, grinning and adding, “That was....”
“Amazing,” Jon agreed, smiling wide and almost a little shy, which would have been preposterous had it not been so adorable. He tossed the towel away, finished with it, and slid in next to Sebastian fully in the bed. “Just like I expected.”
Sebastian let out a deep breath at that, rolling on his side to face him and curling up against him. “Well I’m glad I wasn’t a disappointment then.”
Jon shook his head, offering the cigarette back to Sebastian. As he accepted, Jon asked, “Where are you from? Romania, yes?”
Sebastian nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“Well,” Jon smiled, “at the end, you... stopped speaking English.”
Sebastian furrowed his brows, pure confusion on his face as he muttered through the cigarette between his lips, “I what?”
Jon grinned. “You did.”
“I don’t... do that. Ever. Are you sure?”
“Unless you have other languages you speak...”
Sebastian shook his head, Romanian the only option that made any sense. But still... “Damn.”
“I fucked the Romanian out of you,” Jon said teasingly, and Sebastian couldn’t help but close his eyes and laugh a little. Jon leaned in and smiled as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, and they continued to share the cigarette until it was gone and put out in a tray on Sebastian’s nightstand.
“I’m glad I went out tonight,” Sebastian said as Jon shifted on his back, allowing Seb to use his lean chest as a pillow.
“I’m glad you’re single right now,” Jon grinned, running his hand up and down Sebastian’s back absently. “I don’t know how you are.”
“Not everyone thinks I’m as awesome as you do,” Sebastian chuckled, placing a soft kiss to his chest.
“Then they are all fools,” Jon decided. He reached down and tilted Sebastian’s chin up, making him look up into his eyes. “Who wouldn’t adore you?”
Sebastian melted a little at those words and felt a pang of sadness, one particular man coming to mind whose name he wouldn’t dare speak. No matter what Jon might think, Sebastian was no stranger to rejection and, in some cases, completely unrequited crushes that he didn’t know how to let go of and move on. But he wasn’t gonna let that ruin the high that he was on, he decided as he shoved those thoughts down and leaned up to kiss his new lover.
“You’re sweet,” he murmured against Jon’s lips. “I think I like you.”
Jon chuckled, tracing his jawline with long, gentle fingers. “Good, because I think I like you too.” Sebastian smiled and kissed him again, the two men getting lost in each other again as the wee hours of the morning approached.
Sebastian didn’t know where this new thing between them might lead, if anywhere at all, but one thing was for sure - he was gonna enjoy the hell out of this while it lasted.
taglist: @captainrogerrsbeard @onehotgreasymechanic @stanclub @time-travel-bouqet @supersmuttyqueernerd @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @lisamott9 @ravensonata @buckmesideways22 @loki7ms @weareallteamcap @laughingatthevoid @nade2308 @wintersoldier1989 @steve-bucky-stucky @loricameback @imagininggirl @absolutelydreadful @dviciosamadridista @musette22
#jon kortajarena#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x jon kortajarena#kortastan#my fic#rpf#sebastian stan rpf#jon kortajarena rpf
67 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
viettriphutho-blog
Viet tri phu tho
aboutsleepnomore
スリープノーモア記録
grandcrownshark17
Untitled
sexytalltex
lonely texas country man love all big ladies
snowbunnyluvher
4❄🐇