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metalbuckaroo · 3 years

Text

Birthday

Summary: Toby invites Bucky to his 11th birthday party.

Warnings: good bit of sexual tension, rude ass parent, cursing, I think that's it???

AU: Babysitter!Bucky x Fem!Reader

AN: I waited soo long to finish this that I couldn't remember exactly what I'd planned for it, so I winged half of it.

THE FILL IN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @bucksdolll

"Toby seems to be warming up to the temporary pretty well." One of the Moms whispered to yours. "Bucky? He's a sweetheart. Isn't he, dear?"

You looked away from where Bucky was being swarmed by the younger kids and a couple of their older sisters you'd went to high school with; your mom giving you a sweet smile. "A big softie."

"He's great with Toby, and is sweet on a little miss someone." She grinned, poking your side as you got two bottles of water from the cooler. "Well, aren't you lucky." One of the other mom's chided. "Extremely."

"Go save him, poor boy looks like he's ready to combust." Your mom sighed, fixing a few things on the table that held cake and various types of snacks.

Turning on your heels, you went to where he was stood letting Toby babble on about his arm. "Can I borrow you for a sec?"

Bucky gave a bright smile and nodded, letting you guide him to the open back door. "I think he's have a good time showing off his super cool babysitter." You teased, handing him some extra drinks for the cooler. "Does he ever run out of energy?"

Shaking your head, you looked over the way the dark blue t-shirt clung to his skin, the dips of his muscular torso visible even through the wet fabric. "You're not gonna take that off are ya." You said, tugging the hem.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "Nothing wrong with being a little modest, Buck." You smiled, noticing how he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Don't wanna, uh, scare a bunch of kids."

"Or have their dads chasing you down because, the wives are gawking at you." You said, scrunching your nose up at him. He breathed a laugh and shook his head again, leaning down to peck a simple kiss to your lips. "Yeah. I don't think that's gonna happen."

After presents were opened and cake was ate, you and Bucky hid away in the kitchen again for a few moments away from the crowd of kids and parents. "You look beautiful, sunshine." He said, adjusting the thin strap of your dress. "Don't look too bad yourself, Buck."

Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his dog tags, tugging them so he'd lean down; his lips ghosting across yours when he turned his head to the opening back door.

"James! There you are." Your mom breathed, pulling the door shut behind her. "Mallory just extended her vacation for another 3 weeks. Please, tell me you're available?" She clasped her hands together and gave him pleading eyes.

"Yeah, of course." Bucky smiled, nodding his head. "Great, perfect. A few of Toby's friends are staying, so I hope they don't bother you too much." She said, looking to you.

"I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind staying to help, right?" You looked up at him, patting his chest lightly. His eyebrows raised and he nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'll stay."

"Miranda, I've been looking for you." Darlene, one of the most judgemental moms, said, Toby and her son following in behind her. "I've been meaning to ask you- where's Matthew? Shouldn't he be here instead of-" She stopped when she saw Bucky, still standing very close to you.

"He had work." Your mom said with a forced smile. "No wonder it didn't work out, that's all he thinks about." Darlene said clicking her tongue. "Now, you're stuck having to pay a babysitter who-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there. Toby, go play outside." Bucky looked down at your hard expression, putting his hand on Toby's shoulder to walk with him into the backyard. "That's not an appropriate thing to talk about at a kid's birthday party. He is eleven, he doesn't need to know why his dad didn't show up."

"It's just- this new babysitter of yours is so-"

"Sweet? Shy, handsome, good with kids? If none of those are what you are about to say, then don't say it." She looked at you dumbfounded, glancing at your mom. "You're not gonna let her talk like this are you?"

Your mom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. "She's grown. I don't dictate what she says. Besides, she's right."

"Unbelievable."

As the families dispersed, going home once the sun started to set, your mom looking exhausted as she cleaned the kitchen. "I've got it, go on to bed. You've had your stress fill for the day."

She gave you a soft thank you before shuffling away to the hallway, Bucky walking in from the chaos filled living room. "Make it out alive?" You teased, picking up the trash that littered the counter. "Barely. Need help?"

His hand rested on the small of your back, pink tinting his cheeks. "You could move the couch for me? Put this to use." You teased, fingertips running up the dark metal of his left arm before wrapping around his wrist.

You finished cleaning the kitchen and went to check on the state of the living room; Bucky laying out the blankets and pillows on the floor for the kids.

"Can we watch Nightmare on Elm Street?" Toby asked, looking up at you with hopeful eyes as you picked up the remote. "No, it's too scary for you." You said, clicking through the movie selections. "Please?"

Bucky chuckled when you rolled your eyes and nodded. "One scream out of any of you and I'm switching it to lullabies."

It didn't take long.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie you were switching it to Toy Story, ignoring the protests that sounded from them.

Another 30 minutes and they were all passed out, sprawled out on the blankets and snoring as you tugged Bucky with you to the kitchen.

"Knew that was gonna happen." You said, breathing a laugh and lifting yourself onto the counter.

Bucky moved to stand in front of you, your knees parting on instinct to let him stand between them. "Steve said he'll have your car done in a couple days. Want me to take you back to your apartment tomorrow? So, you don't have to take the train."

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely; pulling his lips to yours. You all but melted completely in his touch, cool, smooth metal on your right thigh a beautiful contrast to the warm skin on your left.

"I'm so fucking lucky..." He muttered against your lips before pressing his tongue against yours.

"Ew, stop eating my sisters face." You breathed a laugh at Toby's tired voice, looking over your shoulder at him. "Whst are you doing up?" You teased, turning slightly to see him better. "You know I don't like to admit when you're right..."

You were getting restless. Wanting more every time you'd get near Bucky; more of the sweetness of his kiss and gentle, adoring touches.

But hwahented things taken slow. Which you fully understood; and with the group of kids in the front room, it wasn't going to go far anyways.

"Scared?" He nodded softly and you slid off of the counter. "Calm that down and come watch some tv." You smiled at Bucky, gesturing to the strain against his athletic shorts.

Bucky's face burned as he watched you usher Toby back into the living room, staying back for a moment before following.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this." Toby said, pointing a finger at Bucky that made him look to where you were holding the boy's hand from your spot, laid on the loveseat. "You're about as threatening as the neighbors ankle biter." Bucky retorted, sitting in the recliner.

You had turned some random TV show on, suddenly becoming extra quiet within an hour.

Bucky glanced from the screen to see you sleeping peacefully, Toby's hand barely hanging onto yours as Bucky stepped over one of the kids to grab the blanket from the back of the loveseat.

Gently laying it over you, he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek; biting back a smile when you subconsciously tilted your head to follow his lips.

There's always tomorrow.

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Taglist: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #babysitter!bucky fluff #babysitter!bucky

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thegingerwriter · 4 years

Text

The Vegas of Hollywood- JaTP: Reggie x She/Her Reader- Part 1

NOT MY GIF. CREDIT TO CREATOR. IT IS A PRETTY BEAUTIFUL GIF.

(I usually don’t ever put gifs on my fics so we’ll see how this goes)

Requests: a) Reggie always hugging reader and just being a soft little fluff ball in public, like at the orpheum. The guys teasing him but he just agrees and continues being Reg

b) Can you please do something with Reggie from Julie and the phantoms?

c) Julie and the Phantoms x reader where they have a nickname for her that they use more than Y/n. I thought Vegas was cute. Like she’s energetic and lights up a room and stuff. Maybe she pretends to hate it but she absolutely adores it?

Pair: Reggie x reader

Words: 1.5k. It’s more of a prologue!

Warnings: None fam. PG 13.

Perspective: 3rd person for this chapter

Pronouns: She/Her

Note: I wanted to start a new series ever since finishing Julie and the Phantoms and then I got requests and got some proper inspiration. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged!

“It’s now or never!” All the boys sang the last line of the song as they played their final chords. Out of breath and sweaty, they all looked out into the empty venue, imagining exactly what playing in front of a full, packed and excited audience would be like that night.

“Dude, that was so good!” Luke yelled, high-fiving Bobby next to him.

Alex got up from his drums and walked over to Reggie, who clapped him on the back excitedly.

“Okay Alex, man, you were on fire!” Reggie exclaimed, causing Alex to go shy and look at his feet slightly.

“Oh, no- I was just warming up. You guys were the ones on fire.”

“Could you just own your awesomeness for once?” Reggie rolled his eyes, holding a finger up to Alex. “If Y/n was here for that song, you know she would agree.”

The four boys on the stage all turned their heads at once when they heard a single person excitedly clapping from the bar at the back of the room, their cheers and whoops echoing around the space, causing the boys to smile- one of them in particular beaming far more than the others.

“Y/n!” They all yelled excitedly, gently putting down their instruments before bouncing off the stage.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late, I had an issue with the van, and I know that I missed the sound check, but hopefully there’s enough time after we get dinner for one more practice with me-” The young girl was cut off as she was half squeezed to death by a crushing hug from the boy in the leather jacket.

“Jesus, Reg- don’t kill the poor girl.” Alex laughed. “And don’t worry about it Y/n. We weren’t playing without our lead pianist and singer on purpose- but the guys were getting restless and we needed to let off some steam-”

“It’s all good, Alex. And by the way, I thought you were pretty awesome.” Y/n smiled and winked at him before squealing as Reggie squeezed her again.

“Reg, if you kill my best friend- I’ll kill you.” Alex said, laughing as he said it, failing to make it seem like he didn’t actually mean it.

“I mean, what a way to die,” She laughed as the boy hugging her took this as an invitation to lift her up. “No wait, REGGIE THAT WASN’T LITERAL!”

“Surely you’d still love me, even if we were dead?” Reggie laughed as he eventually put her down. He shrugged his signature jacket off his shoulders, automatically handing it to Y/n. She had once shyly asked for it- and now he just seemed to give her any clothes he had on him that he wasn’t immediately in need of. It soon just became unsurprising to their bandmates when Y/n would just rock up in one of Reggie’s shirts, the boys not really wanting to ask about it anyway.

Y/n laughed at Reggie’s previous question. “Hmm. I’d have to think about that one.”

Among all of the loving interaction that seemed to happen more often then the other band members could count- Y/n, Reggie and Alex noticed Luke and Bobby chatting up a girl next to the bar, the other boys’ demeanor practically screaming that they were already flirting.

“Oh, here we go.” Y/n laughed, leaning into Alex as the tall boy slung an arm over her shoulders while the three of them walked towards the bar.

“...you guys were really good.” Y/n heard the girl say as they stopped next to the two other boys.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie chimed in excitedly, interrupting the conversation.

“No seriously. I was really feeling it.” The girl insisted, causing all of them to break out in smiles- even Y/n, despite not being present to sing for the soundcheck.

Bobby laughed awkwardly, giving the girl his best smile before snapping his head towards us. “Weren’t you guys getting hot dogs?” He turned back with his sweet smile again. “I’m a vegetarian.Could never hurt an animal.”

“Too good for us now, are you Bobby?” Y/n teased, causing the boys to chuckle as Bobby shot her a glare.

“Though he is right, I am starving and I need energy before the show.” Reggie said, Luke and Alex nodding while Y/n roller her eyes. The four of them, minus Bobby, began to walk towards the back entrance of the venue.

“Oh wait-“ Luke turned towards the girl again. “He had a hamburger for lunch!” He exclaimed, before running after his other band mates.

They all laughed as they walked out into the back alley that the Orpheum led out to, eager for food.

As they walked together towards where they knew they would find food, Y/n unexpectedly jumped on Reggie’s back, causing him to have to desperately throw his hands out behind him in order to hold her properly and not let her hit the ground.

“Jeez babe give me some WARNING!” Reggie laughed, spinning her around, resulting in her laugh being projected throughout the alleyway.

“Yea, calm down, Vegas.” Luke said, jumping out of the way as Y/n threw her foot out to kick him. Reggie lightly swatted at her leg in response.

“Hey, no violence up there young lady.” He said, pretending she was in trouble.

“But he called me Vegas.” Y/n pouted, shooting a glare at Luke.

Alex adjusted his hat, laughing at the girl's defense. “It’s a very fitting nickname, and an even cooler stage name. You can’t tell me it’s a lie to say that the fans also love it.”

“I still don’t get it.” Y/n grumbled.

“You’re loud and stay up till ungodly hours of the night. Sounds just like Vegas to me.” Luke laughed and he would have been hit by her swinging leg if Reggie hadn’t grabbed both her ankles to prevent her from doing so.

Reggie adjusted his girlfriend on his back. “I like to call you Vegas because you’re great at keeping secrets, you light up all hours of the day and night, and people are just dying to get to see you.” He said, putting her down as they reached Sam and Ella’s Street Dogs.

Y/n’s face went hot at the compliment, causing Reggie to smile and pull her into his side, leaning down slightly to kiss her forehead.

“You know what? You can call me Vegas, just for that.” Y/n said sweetly, pulling on his jacket to bring him down to kiss him on the cheek.

They were interrupted as Luke pretended to be annoyed. “Gosh, would you look at these two!”

Alex shook his head disapprovingly, but he couldn’t hold the smile back. “Can not take them anywhere.”

Luke and Reggie volunteered to get the hot dogs while Alex and Y/n went to snatch a spare couch under a veranda many people in the street went to eat their food on a Friday night.

Alex plopped down onto the couch, leaving enough room for Y/n to sit down next to him before pushing her back against the side of the couch and throwing her legs over Alex’s lap. He routinely threw his hands up to give her room for her legs before letting his hands fall back onto her thighs.

“Hey.” Y/n said, as she suddenly noticed her best friend looking nervous, tapping her legs like his drums to the beat of a song she had written for them to play tonight. “You know you were great in there just then? And I know you are going to be great tonight.”

“I can’t wait to hear you sing in there tonight, V.” Was all Alex could respond, giving her a small, precious smile she was more than grateful to see.

“A hot dog for you, m’lady!” Reggie suddenly appeared in front of them, handing a hot dog to Y/n while Luke, who appeared a second later, gave one to Alex.

The other two boys let themselves fall onto the couch, Luke letting out a dreamy sigh while looking at the neon sign above them displaying the venue name they’d been trying to get into for far longer than they could count. It took everything the had- and even then it was a serious struggle.

“Gosh, this is awesome you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum! This is gonna be one of the greatest nights of our lives!” Luke shared excitedly.

Y/n raised her hot dog, the boys following suit as they all smiled. One could really tell they were all happy to be in this together, finally on their way up in the world.

“Eat up boys. Tonight definitely changes everything.” Y/n said before they all took a bite.

A couple seconds of chewing later, Alex partly screwed his face up. “That’s a new flavor.”

Reggie laughed with food in his mouth, Y/n giving him a shove with her foot for his lack of manners before he swallowed properly and tried again.

“Chill man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

Chapter 2 is here.

#reggie x reader #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms fanfic

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Ecstasy

SPN FanFic

~Sam's major headache leads to a major oops on Dean's part and some major fun for Sam.~

Sam x Reader, Dean

3,969 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Accidental Drug Use. Smut. Hair Pulling. Stoned!Sex

A/N: This will stand as my Free Square for @spnkinkbingo 2020. I'm doing "Hair Pulling Kink" bc Sam totally likes to have his hair pulled. ;) Hope you all enjoy!

2020 KinkBingo Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

Sam pressed his forehead deeper into the ledge of his knuckles, hoping the pressure would distract his ears from the beeping and ease the headache pounding behind his eyes.

It did not.

“Shit.” Dean was across the way, kicked back in his chair, ankles cross on the tabletop, phone in hand. In between alternating whispered curses and victory cheers, his phone was making the most irritating bleeping noises. “Yeah, baby!”

A devastated and annoyed sigh filled the air and Sam let his hand fall to the table with a thud. “What are you doing?” he snapped, eyes wide, head shaking at Dean.

Green eyes popped up innocently. “Playing Tetris, what are you doing?”

Sam tossed his hands up and sat back. “I’m trying to work! Why is it so loud?”

“I don’t know, Tetris is loud.” Dean shrugged and hiss disappointedly as he put a cube in the wrong spot. “You’re distracting me, shut up.”

“I’m distracting you- I- what!”

A melodic whistle from the next room caught their ears and both boys looked up to see Y/N dancing about, shaking her ass as she cleaned up last night’s messy dinner. Headphones snug in her ears, she whistled along to the music as she picked up empty beer bottles and a few scattered napkins.

Dean leaned over the table to get a better view, humming in approval at the curves on display. “Nice.”

“Dean!” Sam scolded in a low voice, quickly looking away and back to his book.

“What? She’s got a nice-”

“Just stop it.”

Dean laughed and licked his chapped lips as he settled back in place. “I know you like her, it’s cool, man. She’s all yours.”

Sam’s spine straightened in defense even as a blush filled his cheeks. “She’s not- mine. What? I don’t-”

“Sammy,” Dean grinned, dropping his chin as his eyebrows rose knowingly. “You can’t hide this stuff from me. I see all.”

Sam cleared his throat and tried to end the conversation, ducking his gaze back to his text. “You don’t see anything. There’s nothing to see.”

“Lucky for you,” Dean went on, ignoring him, “she likes you too.”

“H-how do you know?” Sam refused to look up, but lifted his eyes slightly.

Dean sighed happily and puckered his lips. “Because she turned me down.”

That lifted Sam’s entire frame. “What!”

“I know, shocking, right? I mean…” Dean waved a hand down the length of himself Vanna White style. “How could she say no? But she did.”

“When?”

“Few months ago. We were working that case in Ossining- remember? And… we got a little buzzed and I made a move and…”

“Wow.”

“I know. It was a pretty good move.”

“No, not- I just- wow.”

Dean laughed and dropped his feet so he could lean over the table and lower his voice. “Look, she likes you. You like her. It’s cool.”

The tip of Sam’s tongue snuck out to hang on his lower lip as he looked a little to the left, contemplating Dean’s confession. “Huh.”

“Yup.” Satisfied that his point was made, Dean sat back and started the game again, bleeping away without a thought.

Sam soon turned back to his research, trying to forget what Dean had said about Y/N. If it was meant to be, it would be; there was no use dwelling on it, especially when there was work to be done.

Very time consuming, tedious work that involved translating handwritten Romanian from a faded text while listening to Dean's Tetris antics.

Thoughts of Y/N were soon drowned out by a sharp pounding in his left temple, and Sam gave up, throwing his pencil down like a gavel and leaning back. He clutched his skull and groaned.

“Dude, go take something,” Dean suggested after slipping a bar into place and clearing three lines at once.

Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. You want anything?”

“Nah. Awe, damnit! Freaking cube again!”

The farther from Dean he walked, the calmer Sam felt, but his head was still pulsing.

The kitchen was practically bare and no meds were to be found. Sam growled lowly as he shuffled back to the library and paused in the archway.

“There's an empty bottle of Excedrin in the pantry,” he said cooly.

Dean looked up from his phone with a lingering smile. “OK. Did you take some?”

“Empty. Bottle.” Sam enunciated each letter and Dean's smile fell.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Dean closed one eye as he thought up both an excuse and solution at once. “Uh, I think there's some Tylenol in my room.”

Sam grit his teeth and nodded curtly. “Thanks.”

A handful of little white pills later, Sam was back in his seat, head in hand, waiting for relief to find him. He cradled his head in his hands, fingers splayed across his forehead, eyes glazing over the words set before him. It was slow going.

“Hey, bros,” Y/N greeted, taking the seat next to Sam as she set down three beers on the table. “Whatcha doin’?”

Dean happily reached for a beer. “Beating my high score.”

Sam sighed. “Working. Or trying to.” He looked up to find Y/N watching him intently and it made his heart race. “What’re y-you up to?” He could feel his cheeks flush and Y/N smiled.

“Oh, big day for me,” she said, sitting back with a beer. “I cleaned the bathroom- gross by the way,” she said, casting an eye at Dean. “You know you can rinse out the sink after you shave. It’s not hard.”

Dean waved a dismissive hand and failed to flip a Z piece in time. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” She sighed and turned back to Sam who’s eyes had never left her face. “Then I did two loads of laundry,” she continued, ticking her chore list off on one hand. “Found my lost Blues Traveler tee- under the bed,” she added in a whisper, cupping her hand to her cheek as if it were a secret, “and just finished reorganizing 6A. Did you know we have jars full of random animal bones? Because...ew.”

Sam managed a daze laugh, but found it hard to look away from her perfect lips as they frowned in disgust. “Yeah. Bones.”

“So whatcha working on?” Y/N smiled and leaned over to look at his book, and Sam’s breath nearly stopped.

His eyes zoomed in on the delicate lines on her lips, the hint of teeth just between as she spoke, the way she bit the tip of her tongue just slightly when she smiled. His mouth was watering, his pulse pounding, so focused on her mouth as she came closer.

“Sam?”

Y/N laughed at his awkward stare and he nearly jumped out of his skin, startled back into himself.

“Yeah. Yes. Working.” He swallowed hard and shivered, prying his eyes from Y/N to the book. “Um… It’s-er- lore. From the- Romania on things.”

“OK…” Y/N shook her head at his ramblings and sat back, lifting the beer bottle to her lips. She puckered her mouth and took a delicate sip as her head tipped back, and Sam made a noise that turned all their heads, even his own.

“Dude,” Dean gasped across the table at the audible moan that pushed up from the back of Sam’s throat, and Sam quickly coughed, hoping to cover his mishap.

Y/N politely ignored the noise, turning her face away as an embarrassingly pleased smile tickled her lips. She took another drink, slower this time, and Sam could not stop himself.

His pupils went wide as he watched the muscles in her throat contract, as he saw her mouth move around the thick bottle neck. He groaned again and shifted in his seat, his pants growing tighter with unsolicited lust.

Dean sat forward and slapped a hand on the table to get Sam’s attention. “You OK, man?”

Sam startled and twisted in his chair, rubbing his damp palms over his thighs to dry them. “What? Yes. What? Why?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in concern. “You’re all… shaky.”

Y/N, too, was watching Sam carefully. “And you’re sweating.” She put the beer down and leaned over, gently placing her wrist on Sam’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Her touch felt like lightning, his entire body sparking with the feeling of her skin upon his. His heart skipped too many beats and when it came back, it was frantic and loud, banging against his ribs. He closed his eyes, wishing it all away, but Y/N’s sweet voice tickled his ear.

“Sam, are you feeling alright?”

His stomach tightened and his cock jumped, painfully swelling against the roughness of his jeans. “Uh…” He shuddered and took a deep breath, holding it until his shoulders stopped shaking. “W-will you excuse me, please?”

Sam jumped up before she could answer, dragging the old Romanian book on gypsies with him, holding it over his crotch as camouflage. He ran from the room, and Y/N looked at Dean with worried eyes.

“Something I said?”

Dean chewed his lip, pondering the situation, and excused himself as well after finishing his beer in two long pulls. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam was in the mouth of the hallway, filling up the cavernous passageway with not only his height but his frantic movements. He paced back and forth across the seven foot wide tiled expanse, his teeth gnawing at the middle nail of his left hand.

Dean approached quickly but gently. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Sam skidded to a halt and turned on his heel, eyes wide, sweat glistening on his forehead. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t calm down. I’m like, my- with- and she- there was- I couldn’t sit there anymore. Do you know how soft her skin is?”

“Whoa.” Dean raised his hands carefully, trying to get Sam to calm down. “Reel it in, man.”

“I can’t. I can’t. It’s like my brain is jumping. And my heart is like- boom boom boom. Did you see Y/N’s lips on that bottle? Oh my god- it was like- wow.” Sam’s stomach flipped again and he bit his lip to keep in a moan. “What is happening!”

Dean shook his head, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you take?”

“Tylenol!” Sam snapped back. “You told me to take the tylenol in your room! Because somebody finished the Exce-”

“Oh...fuck.” Dean exhaled slowly and sought sanctuary on the ceiling, but found none.

“Dean…”

“Which bottle?”

Sam’s shoulders rose up to his ears. “Which bottle! The one in your nightstand. You said to take the Tylenol. I took the Tylenol. You said the one in your room. That’s the one I took. Why the fuck? What!”

Dean tread carefully. “Ya know, it’s no big deal,” he said with a fake laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

“What did you do!”

“I did nothing!” Dean defended, backing away slightly as Sam lurched forward. “You… may have taken some-”

“Some what, Dean?”

Dean let out a breath that rumbled his pursed lips. “Ecstasy?”

Sam’s explosion was instant and a little bit terrifying. The book dropped to the floor as both his massive hands rose to strangle the air in front of Dean’s face, inching ever closer to his actual neck. “What is ecstasy doing in the Tylenol, Dean!”

“You remember Chloe, right?” Dean said quickly, hoping to weasel out of danger with a memory. “The waitress from Lincoln with the sister who had the big…” He smirked, hands out and curved around his chest. “You remember. Anyway- I didn’t want to just leave it laying around so…”

Sam’s jaw was near to breaking with how tightly he gnashed his teeth together. “So you put it in the Tylenol?” His voice echoed down the hall and Dean shushed him quickly, lest Y/N come running.

“I forgot, OK? I was drunk. Anyway, it’s old. That was like three years ago. You’ll be fine. Just...go lay down. You’re freaking vibrating.”

Sam spun around three times, tugging at his hair as his muscles twitched. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Go lay down and sleep it off,” Dean ordered, clamping a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re fine.”

“Remind me to kill you tomorrow.”

“Will do, buddy.” Dean patted his back and gave him a push, sending Sam off to bed. “Goodnight.”

The sheets were so soft, Sam couldn’t stop touching them. He ran his hands down across the mattress, feeling every single thread in the woven fabric, wondering if he could count them all if he concentrated really hard.

The pillow was cool against his cheek. It rubbed against his face, so soft and cool, wicking away the heat from his skin until it was warm and he frowned, quickly flipping it over to feel the cold again. It was amazing.

He was burning up, sweating and prickling with energy. He could feel every hair on his body, every cell was alive and moving. It was maddening and incredible, and he wanted… something. He needed...something.

Y/N knocked, but Sam was too lost in his own frantically dancing thoughts to acknowledge her. She opened the door a crack, peeking in just to make sure he was decent.

“Sam?”

He jumped at the sound of her sweet voice and turned over quickly, sitting up to face her. “Hey, Y/N/N.”

She stepped inside and kicked the door shut with a tap of her heel. “I just wanted to check on you,” she said cheerfully, tossing a water bottle at him. “Feeling any better?”

He missed the catch and the bottle landed by his side on the bed. “Uh, yeah. Good. Why? How are you? Are you ok?” He rambled while trying to pick up the bottle, immediately distracted by the weight of the water and the way it felt moving in his hands. He stared into the clear plastic and Y/N raised her brows in worry.

“What is going on with you?”

“It's like holding an ocean,” he mused, entranced by a bubble near the cap.

“Right.” Cautiously, she came close and touched his hand, moving it and the bottle away from his eyes. “Sam…”

The touch of her fingers on his made Sam's blood sing. His focus zoomed in on her delicate hand, the supple, soft skin, the dimples of her knuckles. He couldn't breathe for what seemed like forever, his lungs frozen, body void of all function except the nerve endings that sizzled with her touch.

“Want…”

She cocked her head at his faint whisper and moved her hands to his cheeks, looking him over with concerned eyes. “Sam, what's wrong? Tell me what you need.”

He took a quick breath and looked up into her eyes, losing himself in the heat of her hands. “I need…”

She leaned closer, wanting to help, scared of the wild look in his eyes. “Tell me. Anything you need, Sam. I'm here.”

His pulse was pounding, loud in his ears; his skin was on fire, stomach churning with nerves. He breathed deep, trying to calm himself but finding no point. She was what he needed. Always had been. “I need...you.”

Her breath caught and Y/N shook her head gently, in confusion not disapproval. “What?”

“You,” he said again, eyes looking deep into hers. “I need you, Y/N.”

“Are you-”

Sam laid his hands on top of hers, his eyes rolling a bit at the softness of her skin. “High? A little. Yeah. Dean and the- it's a long story there was a waitress with- it doesn't matter.” She let him ramble, amazed by the strange lightness of his voice. Sam stumbled over his own tongue, words spilling out before he could think them through. “The point isn't about the waitress. I had a headache and- Y/N… can I?”

She laughed gently. “Can you what, Sam?”

“I wanna kiss you. Can I- um...may I kiss you?”

Heart in her throat, unable to answer, Y/N simply nodded and chewed nervously at her lip, waiting for the kiss she'd wanted since the moment they'd met.

Sam's face lit up with a smile. “Really?” He moved his hands from hers to hover over her cheeks, unsure if he should let them land. He could feel the space between them, their auras touching, atoms ricocheting off each other in the tiny gap.

“Yes, Sam,” she sputtered in a whisper. “Kiss me.”

It wasn't a kiss, it was an explosion. Sam let go of every nervous doubt, every worry, every self conscious thought that had ever passed behind his hazel eyes and finally took a leap two and a half years in the making.

His fingertips landed on the apples of her cheeks and he pushed upwards, taking her lips without a second thought. The feeling was maddening and Sam sealed his eyes shut tight, enjoying the sensations sparking against his mouth. She breathed against him, parting her lips to snake her tongue across his mouth and Sam moaned loudly, his hands moving to grab hold of her neck and shoulders, pulling her down.

They fell onto the bed; sheet billowing around them as their bodies tangled. Sam kissed her again and again, unable to decide which kiss felt better: the quick press of warm lips, or a lingering, soft pull. When her tongue touched his again, he gave up trying to analyze and licked into her mouth like a starving man.

Y/N tried to roll off of his chest, but Sam followed her, turning onto his side so that as much of him was touching as much of her as he could manage. The very thought of moving his hands away from her body was sheer panic, and he clung to her with all he had.

“God, you feel so good,” he panted in between kisses, holding her close. He ran his hand up and down her side, marveling at the dip at her waist and the softness of her hips. “I never knew it could feel so good. Fuck. I…” His voice was cracking, nervousness creeping back into his mind. What if she didn't want more, what if she was just here because he was a wreck? His fingertips paused at the hem of her shirt, twitching as he debated reaching under the cotton. “Can I- I need to- feel you.”

Y/N kissed him hard and grabbed his hand, guiding it up underneath her shirt. Sam stiffened as she pressed his palm against her breast and he let loose a husky growl.

“Touch me, Sam,” she urged, squeezing his hand so that his fingers curled around her. “I want you to.”

He sighed against her lips and the animal inside took over. Sam lifted her with him as he sat up, quickly pulling her shirt off. He stared for a moment, stunned by the dip between her breasts and the soft mounds caged and held high by her bra. When Y/N unhooked the clasp and pulled the fabric away, Sam dove down, locking his mouth around her nipple, and feeling the flesh harden against his tongue. He hummed, feeling every dimple like a spark of fire on his lips, and he sucked hard, drawing a husky moan from Y/N.

“Fuck, Sam!” She pushed her fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp. When he bit down on her, she yanked a fistful of hair and Sam let her tit fall from his mouth as his head flew backwards, eyes rolling as tortured pleasure spread through him like icy fingers down his spine.

“Do it again,” he breathed, chest heaving, lips wet and parted.

Y/N pulled his hair again and he let out a wail of desperation and sank back onto the bed.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, reaching for her hips to pull her close. “Everything feels so good.”

She wiggled her arm out from beneath his head and tossed a leg over him, straddling his trim hips. Sam looked up with dark eyes that struggled to focus, his lips trembling as she plucked his shirt buttons open. His hands traveled slowly up her thighs, massaging with unmappable touches as he tried to feel all of her at once. By the time his hands cupped her breasts again, Y/N had his flannel open and she bent down to lick at his chest while pushing the cotton further from his broad shoulders.

“Oh-my-god.” He was near to hysteria, every atom in his body craving more. “Please.”

The tip of her tongue flickered, hot, over his left nipple and Sam nearly roared as the sensation zapped through him. Y/N sat back then and rubbed her ass over his jeans, making his eyes roll back hard.

“I-I-fuck, please...” His jaw dropped as she rocked forward again, denim on denim, rough yet gentle; friction heating the air between them and making his cock swell even harder.

Y/N tugged her hand through his long hair once more, loving the silkiness between her fingers, the pathetic cry it pulled from his throat. “You need something else, baby?”

“Need-”

She yanked the chestnut strands, winding her fingers around the soft locks until her knuckles grazed his scalp.

“Tell me.”

Sam opened his eyes, struggling to focus on her, panting as the pain spread like delicious fire across his skull. “Need to fuck you. Please.”

Another firm tug lifted his chin and Y/N kissed him hard, plunging her tongue into his dazed mouth, lapping at the stale taste of beer and mint that lingered on his tongue. “You sure?”

His head lolled to the side when her hand disappeared. “Yes. Please. Please.”

Zippers were ripped, buttons snapped and belts opened, drawers discarded. Sam could barely stand it. The slide of his own hands as he undressed drove him insane; the sight of Y/N stripping for him made his heart beat dangerously fast.

Finally, she came back to him, hopping back into his lap, taking his lips again as she slid down, slowly impaling herself on his enormous erection. She inched down as gently as she could, holding her breath against his mouth as her cunt stretched for him.

Sam held on, wrapping his arms tight around her back, holding her close so neither would fall. His head was spinning, his blood rushing too fast, pounding in his ears.

“Please…”

“It’s OK, Sam,” Y/N whispered, kissing his cheek sweetly, “I got this…”

Dean tripped over his bootlace in the hallway but caught himself and laughed it off, thankful that no one was around to see his balancing ballet. Realizing he was putting himself in mortal danger, he finally shut down his game and stashed the phone in his back pocket, sighing as he said adieu to his high score.

“I could go professional,” he mused as he passed Sam’s room. “Do they do tournaments for Tetris?” He paused, scrunching up his nose as he thought about the ridiculousness of such an idea.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean spun on his heel and headed back to Sam’s bedroom, lifting a closed fist to knock on the door. “Do they do Tetris- oh...”

Just as quickly as he had before, Dean spun around again, this time smirking as the unmistakable sounds of fevered lovemaking made their way through the ancient door. Shaking his head, Dean made a mental note to ask Sam about his new money-making idea in the morning. That, and what he and Y/N had gotten up to thanks to his accidental drugging.

Dean laughed to himself. “Poor kid needs to be stoned to make a move.”

From behind the door, Y/N let out a wail, screaming Sam’s name without care.

Dean paused for a moment to listen, nodding proudly before heading off to bed. “That’s my boy.”

2020 Forever Tags: @67-chevy-baby @akshi8278 @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @blondemarvelchick @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @defenderrosetyler @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @fandom-princess-forevermore @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

#sam x reader #dean #smut #spnkinkbingo 2020

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gamergirl929 · 4 years

Text

The Medic and The Forward (Alex Morgan x Reader)

It’s easy for the USWNT to get distracted by the newest medic, a tall, muscular and tattooed woman, but a forward in particular takes an interest in the new medic, and that forward is Alex Morgan.

Nothing but complete and utter fluff

“So, we’re meeting our new team medic today?” Christen asks Vlatko who gives her a nod and a smile.

“She should be here any minute.”

Milliseconds later a ball intended for Kelley ends up rolling passed her, her attention focused elsewhere.

“Where’d you go O'Hara?” Emily shouts her eyes widening when she realizes what had drawn her attention.

The group of women all freeze, eyes raking down your impressive physique, and tattoo covered biceps that flex as you tighten your hold on the bags full of what they guess is equipment.

Tobin lets out a low whistle that has Christen nudging her friend while Kelley’s eyes rake down your body.

You stretch your arms above your head, your shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of ink covered skin at the small of your back.

“We could use some popcorn right about now...” Sonnett mumbles, earning a slap on the chest from not only Lindsey but Alex as well, who can’t seem to take her eyes off of you.

You eventually turn around, mouth opening to greet the USWNT players, but you still, eyes wide when you realize their eyes are already on you.

“Uhhhh...” You swallow hard, your eyes darting around nervously as you rub the back of your neck.

“Hi.” You grin, waving with your free hand.

The women almost immediately smile back, Alex’s cheeks flushing pink at the smile that stretches across your face.

“There you are.” Vlatko walks towards you with a grin and you hold your hand out, giving the man a firm handshake.

“Girls, this is Y/N, and she’s going to be a member of our medical team for the foreseeable future, please, make her feel welcome.”

You turn back to the group of players with a toothy grin as they all make their way towards you.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

It’s only when they get to you that they realize you’re nearly as tall as Vlatko and just as tall as Sam.

“You are very large, are you sure you’re a medic?” Sonnett asks, earning a smack on the chest from Kelley.

“If not, it’s going to be really awkward when I come out on the field to help you during a match and have no idea what I’m doing.” You smirk and the girls laugh, though one laugh in particular stands out to you among the rest.

You quickly find the source of the laugh, your eyes locking with a pair of bright blue orbs accompanied by a dazzling pearly white grin.

It’s when Alex’s cheeks flush that you glance away, embarrassed at the amount of time you’d been staring at the flawless woman.

Vlatko claps his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention, though you can feel someone’s eyes on you every few seconds.

“Let’s get back to practice girls.”

At that, the women all make their way back on the field, but as you watch them go you see a pair of bright blue orbs on you, their owner making their way towards you with a grin.

“I-I figured I’d introduce myself.”

You hold your hand out to the pretty woman who takes it gently in her own, her handshake not even close to being as firm as Vlatko’s.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You grin, one the woman in front of you returns tenfold.

“I’m Alex Morgan.”

What the two of you don’t realize is that you and the beautiful woman in front of you have the remainder of the team’s eyes on you, a number of them accompanied by smirks.

***

“So, had to introduce yourself huh?” Kelley sends Alex a wink when the pair walk into their hotel room.

“Shut up.” Alex grumbles, her cheeks flushing.

Kelley suddenly slips around Alex with a grin, poking one of her cheeks.

“You’re blushingggg!” She sings, Alex swatting her hand away.

“Don’t make it a thing. It’s not a thing.” Alex flops down on her bed and Kelley rolls her eyes, scoffing.

“Sure it’s not.”

***

It was totally a thing, so much so a thing that everyone had started to notice and it was only your first day.

“So, Y/N...” Kelley starts, smirking at Alex whose eyes narrow.

“Uh, yeah?” You give her a smile.

“You single?” Kelley asks and Sonnett inhales loudly, choking on her drink considering she was just taking a sip.

You slap her on the back until she gives you a thumbs up and you smile.

“One life saved already.” Kelley laughs as she ruffles Sonnett’s hair.

“I wasn’t dying.” She grumbles and you shake your head, smiling as you look down at your food.

“Yes by the way.” You glance up with a smirk, eyes darting to Alex for a millisecond before they’re back on Kelley who’s looking at you in confusion.

“I am single.” You smirk a brow arched and Kelley grins, sending a wink Alex’s way when you aren’t looking.

Alex’s cheeks as per usual when she’s around you flush as she rolls her eyes, but still she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat knowing that you’re single.

***

Your skills were unfortunately called upon in the first game, when none other than Alex Morgan went down, grabbing her ankle.

“I can still play.” She says as you gently take her ankle in your hands, frowning when the woman winces.

You shake your head, turning towards the bench where Vlatko is standing and unfortunately for Alex, using your index fingers to give the universal sign that Alex is in need of a substitute.

“Come on, let’s get her off the field.” You nod to the other medics.

“Y/N, I can play.” She grumbles as she sits up and you give her a smile, your brow slightly arched.

“Are you always going to be this stubborn?” You ask and she shrugs, bottom lip slightly jutted out.

If you hadn’t had to do your job, you would’ve immediately caved at the sight of her pout.

The fans cheer as you, along with another medic help Alex off the field, the forward leaning heavily on you as she limps to the sidelines.

Christen gives Alex a pat on the back before she gets the okay to head onto the field, she being the one to replace Alex.

Delicately, you lower Alex to the ground before the woman lays on her back.

“Now if anything hurts too much, let me know okay?” You say as you gently place Alex’s cleated foot in your lap.

“I will.” She frowns as you, gingerly manipulate her ankle.

“I know you’ve had issues with your ankle before, that was in 2014 correct?” You ask and Alex smirks.

“Oh? Been checking in on me?” She asks and you blush, gently stretching her ankle out.

“I like to know all my team’s past injuries.” You shrug and Alex hums as she props herself up on her elbows.

“Okay, give me... One of Kelley’s.” Alex smirks and you hum.

“Left ankle.”

“Impressive.” She smirks and you shrug.

“Just want to be able to do my job to the best of my abilities.” Your brows furrow in concentration and Alex smiles.

“Think you could grab me some ice?" You shout over Alex’s shoulder to another medic who nods before scurrying off.

You glance up, smiling at the forward.

“We’ll get some ice on this and keep an eye on it, okay?” You grin gently rubbing her ankle to alleviate some of the pain, making Alex let out a relaxed sigh.

“Sounds good.”

***

The next few games are injury free, thankfully, that is until Kelley takes an elbow to the face and is busted open.

“Please don’t try and kill her when you go back out.” You say as you assess her injury and she rolls her eyes.

“No promises.” She growls and you shake your head with a grin.

“Please don’t I don’t want to have to carry a body off the field, dead weight and all.” You grin and Kelley laughs.

“Alright, alright.” She laughs. “Since Alex likes you I won’t do it.”

You gasp loudly.

“You don’t like me?” You place a hand over your heart and Kelley rolls her eyes, backing towards the official who will let her back onto the field.

“Not as much as Alex does.” She winks.

Your cheeks flush bright red.

“What do you mean?” You ask and Kelley turns to you shrugging.

Before you can say another word, the official lets Kelley out on the field the woman grinning your way before taking off, a cloth in her mouth to stave off the bleeding.

You hum as you take a seat beside the team, your mind racing as you wonder what Kelley could’ve meant.

***

“Why isn’t anyone practicing?” Alex says as she walks out onto the field, she soon realizes what exactly everyone is distracted by.

It seemed as if before every practice you were getting a workout of your own, mainly what you were doing right now was using the goal post to do some pull ups.

Alex can’t help but stare at your newly exposed skin, one of your legs covered in a tattoo sleeve, the other spotted in multiple tattoos.

The muscle-tee you’re also wearing gives her a great view of your tattoos and the thought crosses Alex’s mind of how it would feel to trace those tattoos, but before it can drift any further than that she gives her head a shake, turning to her teammates.

Alex’s eyes go wide when she realizes Sonnett has produced a bag of popcorn from out of nowhere, she, and Kelley feasting on it as they stare at the new medic.

“Where did you even get that?” Ali asks, looking Sonnett up and down before looking behind her in search of where she could’ve hidden the bag.

“Stop it.” Alex grumbles at Sonnett, she and Kelley glancing at one another with a smirk.

“Sorry, forgot for a second Y/N’s off limits.” Sonnett winks only for her eyes to widen a millisecond later.

Suddenly, you appear from nowhere and pluck the bag of popcorn from her hands.

“You know you shouldn’t eat this.” You give the two women a pointed look and they both share a glance.

“It was Sonnett, she brought it here.” Kelley points at the blonde who gasps loudly, but in no way tries to deny it.

“Still, it’s bad for you.” You shrugs as you take a handful of popcorn and shove it in your mouth.

“Hey!” Kelley shouts, eyes wide.

“What happened to ‘you shouldn’t be eating that it’s bad for you’?” Sonnett says, doing her best to imitate you.

You shrug, chewing on the mouthful of popcorn as you turn to Alex.

The forward grins as you send her a wink before making your way down the field, eating another handful of popcorn.

“Won’t let us eat popcorn, but she can.” Sonnett grumbles as she and Kelley make their way towards the bench behind you.

Sonnett gets her ‘revenge’ or so she thinks during practice when she accidently sends a ball your way.

A number of the players yell and you glance up, catching the fast ball with one hand.

You toss the ball to the closest player, Christen who grins.

Vlatko calls in a break, considering a number of the players are already gravitating towards you questioningly

“Okay... How...?” Tobin motions to the ball and you chuckle.

“I was a goalie in college, but I quit to practice medicine.” You smile as Christen tosses you the ball, which you easily catch with the palm of your hand.

“You’re pretty impressive, you know that?” Alex grins and you blush, turning to her with wide eyes and a bashful smile.

“Nah...” You shake your head as you rub the back of your neck nervously.

“Wait, where did you go to college...?” Megan asks, eyes narrowed.

You clear your throat, glancing away, mumbling under your breath.

“Didn't quite catch that.” Ashlyn smirks and you sigh.

“I went to Yale.” You shrug, eyes flicking to Alex who rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you don’t think you’re impressive.”

***

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” You smile as you help Alex stretch one of her legs, it was time for the second half of the game against Canada, and Alex had been subbed out, Christen Press taking her place.

“How else would I talk to you?” She grins as she leans back on the grass and you shake your head as you inspect her ankle.

“I mean it has been ages hasn’t it?’” You ask and Alex nudges you with her other foot playfully.

You snicker.

“Sit still Morgan.” You laugh as you manipulate her ankle.

Alex watches you work, watching as you delicately maneuver her ankle around.

She can’t help but stare as you work, the feeling of your hands on her light and subtle, but also comforting as well, much unlike she’s used to feeling when dealing with her bad ankle.

The two of you, completely lost in one another entirely miss the way your teammates are watching you as well as the fans, some even with their phones in hand as they snap pictures.

***

“OH MY GOD!” Kelley screams from her bed and Alex jumps, as does Allie who’s also in the room with the two of them.

“Jesus Wookie.” Allie places a hand on her chest, but when she sees what It is that made Kelley so excited, she squeals.

“What is wrong with you two?” Alex asks as she takes Kelley’s phone, eyes widening when she sees a picture of herself and a certain team medic.

“But seriously, they couldn’t have come up with a better name than Med!Forward?” Kelley scoffs, but Alex is too busy staring at the picture of you and her, the two of you brightly grinning at one another as you chat before you turn your attention to Alex’s ankle, though her attention remains on you.

“Oh god, I wonder if Y/N has seen this.” Alex whispers under her breath.

Kelley and Allie share a glance.

“We hope so!” They shout at the same time and Alex rolls her eyes, wondering how you were handling the USWNT fandom.

***

“Med!Forward seriously?” You whisper under your breath, your cheeks flushed.

You look through the pictures, smiling when you see the way Alex looks at you when you aren’t looking.

On accident, you hit the heart icon on Twitter and your eyes go wide.

“Shit!” You whisper yell, your phone slipping out of your hand.

You roll over, trying to catch it, but before you can you fall of the bed with a thud, hitting your head on the corner of the table beside your bed.

“Ow.” You groan, grabbing your head.

A sudden knock on the door has you slowly sitting up, wincing as you rub your temple.

“You okay in there?” You hear a familiar voice and can’t help but smile.

You move to your feet with a groan, your back popping as you move towards the door, you pull it open without looking through the peephole and you smile a smile reflected right back at you by Alex, but it immediately vanishes when she looks at your head.

“You’re bleeding.” She whispers and your brows furrow as you touch your temple, your fingers coming back a bit bloody.

“Eh, it’ll be fine.” You shrug and Alex rolls her eyes, pushing passed you.

“You’re a medic, you should know you have to clean it. Get your ass in here.” She grabs your wrist, pulling you into the room before kick the door shut behind you.

Alex guides you towards the bed before heading towards your first aid kit. She’s back moments later disinfectants and bandages in hand.

“How’d this happen?” She asks and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushed.

“Well, I uhhhh...” You wince softly as Alex dabs a cotton ball full of alcohol against your bleeding temple.

“I fell out of bed and hit my head on the table.” You say in one breath, closing your eyes so you can’t see Alex’s face. She lets out a giggle and you open one eye, chuckling at the way she tries to hold back her laughter.

“Shut up.” You grumble, that only making Alex laugh harder.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh as well, the woman’s laughter contagious.

The laughter eventually dies down, leaving Alex to tend to your wound.

You smile watching as the woman’s tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates.

“All done.” She smiles as she finishes, covering your wound delicately.

“My hero.” You smirk and she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Who knew the forward half of Medic!Forward would have to take care of the medic?” You smirk and Alex blushes.

“You saw that?” She asks nervously and you chuckle.

“Kelley keeps tagging me in posts.” Your brow arches and she rolls her blue orbs.

“I’m going to kill her.” She mumbles under her breath.

Your eyes dart around the woman’s face, your smirk splitting into a massive grin.

“No offense, but is that your scary face?” You snicker and Alex rolls her eyes as she smacks your chest.

“See if I help you from bleeding out next time.” She laughs and you roll your eyes.

“That’s a stretch. Who’s the medic in this relationship here?”

Alex’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush blood red.

“Shut up.”

***

More pictures of this ‘ship’ continued to surface, and it soon became a thing among the team, the group of women teasing you every chance they got.

Though you had to admit, the more pictures that surfaced of the two of you, if you were a fan, you’d ship the two of you together too.

But you weren’t a fan, you were the team’s medic and to be honest, you still shipped the two of you together.

“Where’s your head at?” You jump, glancing up and smiling when you see Mallory, the young woman taking a seat on the grass beside you.

“In the clouds, as usual.” You shrug, Mallory letting out a laugh.

“Of course, it’s in the clouds, you’re so tall.” Sonnett comments as she falls gracefully onto the grass beside you.

You glance up at the sound of Alex’s laugh, the sound making your heart skip a beat and the tips of your ears flush.

“You should tell her how you feel.” You glance up, cheeks blood red as you stare at Kelley, who takes a seat beside Sonnett, a water in her hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble nervously, earning a nudge from the woman who’d just sat beside you, that person being Allie Long.

“Come on, it’s obvious.” She shrugs and you blush, your eyes darting to the woman who’s running across the field, ball at her feet. You smile softly when she sends the ball in on goal, slipping it passed Ashlyn.

“See, totally smitten.” Allie mumbles and you roll your eyes, moving to your feet.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You shrug as you walk away, turning around with a glare when Kelley throws her empty water at you.

***

It was at the game against Ireland that Alex made her feelings know, well at least, everyone else knew, besides you.

Alex first feels a twinge of jealousy when she notices a few of the Ireland’s players eyes drifting your way, raking slowly down you, appreciating your muscular stature.

Their leering makes her blood boil, so much so that a few of the women beside her take notice as her posture goes ridged.

The anthems end, and Alex stomps towards the sidelines, immediately drawing your attention.

“Hey.” You whisper, placing a hand on Alex’s forearm.

The forward looks up at you with a smile, though you can tell something is bothering her.

“You okay?” You ask, your thumb dragging back and forth across her forearm and she nods.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” She asks and your eyes narrow.

“Jan!” Kelley shouts, waving her towards the huddle and you nod as Alex scurries off without a single goodbye.

You frown, crossing your arms across your chest, wondering what could’ve happened to make the woman’s mood sour.

***

Alex’s sour mood become painfully apparent a little way into the first half when she lands a not so legal tackle on one of the women who’d been leering at you before the start of the game.

The yellow card is something that surprises not only you and everyone on the bench, but some of the fans as well, if Alex Morgan was anything, she was calculated, she wouldn’t make an illegal tackle so painfully obvious.

The tackles don’t end there, and though Alex has two goals under her belt by the end of the first half, she’s only narrowly avoided a red card, much to the shock and confusion of the other forwards around you, Christen and Mallory.

“What do you think is bothering her?” Christen whispers and you shake your head as you walk with them towards the locker room.

“I SAID DROP IT KELLEY.” You hear a shout from in the locker room, quickly realizing that it belonged to a very angry Alex Morgan.

The door slams open as she pushes passed you, head down as she stomps down the hallway.

You step into the locker room, brow furrowed in confusion.

Kelley and Allie are staring at the door motionless, the other members of the team in the locker room, staring at one another in shock.

“What happened?” You ask, receiving nothing but silence in response.

When you realize you’re not going to get an answer from the women in the locker room, you take off out of the locker room, heading down the hallway that Alex had run down.

The soft sound of sniffles is what leads you to her, and when you find her, arms wrapped around her knees as she hugs them to her chest, your heart breaks.

Silently, you make your way towards her, her red rimmed orbs flicking to you instantly.

“May I sit?” You ask and Alex sniffs, nodding.

You take a seat beside her, remaining silent as the woman continues to sniffle, tears still running down her cheeks.

You want nothing more than to rid her cheeks of those tears, but you remain silent as you slip an arm around her middle, pulling her close.

Alex closes her eyes, her head gently resting on your bicep, considering you’re too tall for her to rest her head on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper softly, finally breaking the silence.

Alex pulls away from you and you briefly chastise yourself for opening your mouth, that is until Alex straddles your waist.

Your eyes double in size when red rimmed blue orbs lock with yours, the woman’s eyes darting around your face.

“Al?” You whisper, your hands settling on her waist as her eyes flutter shut.

She leans forwards, her hot breath on your face as she leans her forehead against yours.

“I can’t do this anymore.” She whispers, gently cupping one of your cheeks.

You unconsciously lean into her touch, much to Alex’s satisfaction.

“Can’t do what?” You whisper and Alex swallows hard.

Your eyes flutter open, locking with Alex’s watery red eyes. You quickly realize that her bottom lip is trembling and your heart aches as you cup her cheeks.

“Whatever it is Alex, it’s okay... I’m here.” You whisper, wiping her tears away with the pads of your thumbs.

It’s in that moment that everything you’d been feeling clicks into place, because that’s the moment that Alex’s lips meet yours for the first time.

You inhale softly, but with little to no hesitation, kiss her back.

The action must surprise her, because she gasps against your lips her lips stilling for a moment before she again reciprocates.

The kiss is soft, probably the softest kiss you’d ever shared with anyone. If you could only experience one kiss for the rest of your life, it would be this one, because your first kiss with Alex Morgan is magical.

It isn’t rushed, it’s slow and passionate, the two of you spelling your feelings out against one another's lips, feelings you’d kept hidden since the first day the two of you’d met.

Though eventually, and reluctantly, you do part.

Your eyes remain shut, as do Alex’s the two of you afraid that if you open your eyes the spell will be broken and you’ll both awake in your hotel rooms, alone with the phantom feel of the other’s lips on your own.

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open, and much to your excitement, you don’t wake.

You don’t wake because this is reality.

You’re still sitting in a random hallway in the arena, Alex Morgan in your lap and the taste of her salty tears on your lips.

You gently rid her smooth skin of her falling tears until they eventually tapper off, the woman in your lap sighing softly at the feel of your fingers on her skin.

Finally, blue orbs flutter open, locking with your Y/E/C orbs.

Alex swallows hard, a lone tear rolling down her cheek, that you quickly wipe away with the pad of your thumb.

You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back and kissing away her newly fallen tears.

Alex ducks her head down and buries her nose in your neck, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent that immediately settles the nervous churning in her stomach.

You close your eyes, holding the woman close, something you never thought you’d be able to do.

“I’m sorry.” Alex whispers and you shake your head, turning to press a kiss to her cheek.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for... But why were you so upset?” You whisper and Alex humorlessly chuckles.

“I was...” Alex’s voice drops, so low that you can’t tell what she’s saying even though she’s so close to your ear.

“Come again?” You ask, giving her a squeeze and she sighs.

“I was jealous.”

Your brow furrows as you pull away from her, your eyes locking with hers.

“Of what?” You ask, confused and Alex sighs.

“They kept staring at you and I just...” Alex growls and your brows arch.

“So that’s why you’ve been trying to kill the Ireland team.” You smirk and Alex rolls her eyes, cheeks flushed.

“Maybe.” She shrugs and you smirk.

Alex smacks you in the chest and you chuckle, your grin so wide it nearly splits your face in half.

You glance down at Alex’s lips, the butterflies in your stomach flapping their wings, the butterflies in Alex’s stomach doing the same.

You lean in, unable to hold yourself back as you go in for another kiss, your lips pressing gently against Alex’s the woman in your lap only happy to reciprocate.

“So, first off, congratulations.” The two of you jump apart looking around until your eyes settle on basically your entire team, who are watching the two of you with massive toothy grins.

Alex groans loudly as she hides her face in your chest and you grin, chuckling as you hold her close.

“Second off, we need to head back out onto the field.” Allie points over her shoulder, sending you a wink that makes your cheeks flush pink.

“Come on.” You whisper into Alex’s ear, pressing a kiss to soft skin behind it before bumping your nose against it.

Alex slowly pulls back, her blue orbs locking with your Y/E/C orbs.

Even with an audience, Alex leans forwards, pressing a kiss to your lips, the kiss accompanied by the sound of wolf whistles and clapping.

And even with an audience at the end of the game, Alex is running across the field and leaping up into your arms, her arms around your neck and legs around your waist as she presses a kiss to your lips.

You didn’t know what the future held, but you did know that becoming a medic for the USWNT was the best thing you ever did.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan

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bobbymckenzie · 4 years

Text

runaway

☆ pairing: nicky x mc

☆ word count: 2.3k

☆ tags: @serafinedupont ; @ariendiel ; @venueska ; @bellarxse ; @lasswithumor ; @lucas-koh ; @violinet ; @messofakind

☆ author’s note: ok full disclosure i stopped playing like day 3 of season 3 so i’m purely going off of screenshots i’ve seen of nicky. he’s seriously my favorite and i want him so bad!!! ok anyways here’s a one-shot of nicky and my mc, danielle/dani realizing their feelings for each other ! here it is on ao3 ! comments, kudos, and feedback of any kind is much appreciated !! [this is not my favorite thing i’ve ever written but i could not get this idea out of my head]

•─────────✦☆✦────────•

She nudged her way through the crowd, the edge of her dress fisted in her trembling hand, heading towards any exit door she could find. Huge crowds were never her thing, and it never got easier, even after the season ended.

She pushed out onto the balcony, revelling in the crisp, fresh air, breathing so deeply until her chest loosened up a bit.

The edge of the balcony looked out onto the huge lawn, precisely cut and bright as synthetic, store bought grass. Fake looking and expensive, just like half of the patrons at the gala.

She was rubbing elbows with the elite and she hated it. A lot. Humble beginnings to being a sellout.

Valets in steam pressed uniforms maneuvered the expensive luxury vehicles throughout the long, winding driveway, not a single person who made below six figures in sight.

She gripped the cold marble until her hands stung, trying to focus on anything other than her panicked pulse to slow it down. She was never gonna get used to this life, no matter how many high profile events she was invited to.

“Hey, Dani,” a melodic voice called from behind her.

“Oh, Nicky, hey,” she threw him a soft smile, hoping he didn’t hear the way her breath hitched in her throat at her nickname.

“Needed a breather, too?” He slid the glass door behind him, closing it with a click, before coming to join her at the railing.

“Yeah, I just… couldn’t handle the crowd anymore,” she shrugged, taking a shaky breath.

He knew how badly crowds freaked her out. Being on a t.v. show that hinged on hidden cameras and an intimate cast, she never gave off the appearance that she would’ve reacted this way.

But the night of the finale, she found herself hiding in the corner of the Villa bathroom out of the ways of the cameras, trying desperately to catch her breath. Camilo hadn’t come to check on her, like she’d hoped. First person to knock on the door and ask how she was doing was Nicky.

He gently removed their mics, and spoke to her with such kindness and understanding that she couldn’t help but fall for him more than she already had.

God, Camilo was a great partner in the Villa. He was hot, incredibly suave, and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. But it turned out to be exactly what she was afraid of.

All passion, no substance.

It wasn’t a messy break up, but she wouldn’t count on him trying for more than the basic “How are you?” type of filler conversations with her if they ran into each other on the street.

Which they just so happened to do, since the charity gala insisted on trying to get any single islanders to offer up a date in exchange for a hefty donation.

“Sorry about that. I know this isn’t your kind of scene,” he said, leaning his arm against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles. His body faced her, but he turned his head, surveying the lawn.

Danielle couldn’t help but stare at his defined features, the short, neat stubble parallel to his jawline, full lips pursed in a thoughtful pout.

He looked back at her, brows furrowed, concern knitted between them. “Are you okay with the auction?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. The amount of old men here is disconcerting. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do if I get bid on by a really ugly guy –”

Nicky cut her off, laughing heartily, the bass of his voice reverberating off of the marble. “Damn, you really don’t wanna be here.”

“What, and you do?” She giggled, his laugh infectious. It was one of her favorite sounds.

He shrugged. “Not really. I was kind of hoping I could auction off a chance to play at somebody’s wedding or something.”

“Yeah, they see a handsome face–” she motioned up and down his body, “–before they see everything else.”

“You say that like you aren’t a catch, too, Dani,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes, trying to be nonchalant when she was freaking out inwardly.

“So does that mean Elladine is okay with you being here?” She asked hesitantly. She knew that they’d reunited after she walked out of the Villa, and from what the tabloids said, they were happy.

He winced, taking a deep breath. “Uh, yeah we broke up a little while ago. We just realized we were better off as friends.”

“She did, or you did?” He couldn’t lie to her – they knew each other too well for that. By the way he fidgeted, she knew she’d hit a nerve.

“You got me. I did. I still love her, don’t get me wrong. It just ended up feeling more like a partnership than a relationship you know?” He shrugged, trying to mask the unsurety in his voice.

“You realized maybe it was better when there were other people around?”

He glanced away, rolling his lips together. “...Yeah.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath, her pulse picking up speed.

Danielle had developed a huge crush on Nicky early on, but he and Elladine had gotten along so well that she just settled for being best friends. From the moment he compared her to his sister, she set her sights elsewhere.

But sometimes Nicky’s lingering looks gave her mixed signals. She never completely gave up hope, but the chances of them coupling up was next to none.

“So… I saw you and Camilo are done. You doing okay? Sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner –”

“No, it’s okay. Life happens. I don’t blame you at all,” she said, with a sense of finality.

“Dani… how are you holding up? Really?”

He could see right through her, just like she could with him.

She blew out air, her lips flapping together. “It’s weird. I haven’t really seen him since our break up. I mean, not privately at least, you know? He texted me on my birthday, and it was cordial, but it’s still weird.”

“Did you talk to him tonight?”

“I waved, but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like having an obviously fake and super awkward conversation in front of the press,” she shrugged.

“Uh, well he asked for you a little while ago.”

“When?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she pushed away from the railing.

“Yeah, I have a suspicion that he’s here with somebody else,” he said softly, like he was trying to break the news to her without hurting her feelings..

Her eyes widened. “I’m – I don’t –”

“It’ll be okay. Camilo’s friendly enough. I don’t think he’d cause a scene,” Nicky shook his head sympathetically. “Stay next to me. I’ll keep you preoccupied.”

“It’s not that, I just. I don’t… know what to say. Especially in front of everybody like that. I know people will zero in on us and fixate on how we talk to each other and interact,” she shook her head, gripping the railing again.

“God, especially if he’s introducing me to his new girlfriend or whatever. If I raise my eyebrows at the wrong time, they’re gonna think I’m upset –”

“Or if you scrunch your nose up like you always do,” he added.

She stared at him, mouth parted. “Hey, I know you’re not talking, Mister Grimace.”

“Mister Grimace? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You grimace when you hate something, dummy,” she laughed. “Did you really not know you did that?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Most people make faces when they hate something, Dani.”

“Not like you, they don’t!” She shook her head, still grinning. “You couldn’t pretend to like something if your life depended on it.”

He grimaced. That set her off even more, her soft laugh growing into a full blown cackle.

“You just proved my point, dumbass,” she said between gasps of breath, pointing at his crinkled nose, full lips raised into the exact face she’d been poking at him for.

“Hey, who’re you calling a dumbass? The ‘D’ in dumbass stands for Dani, if we’re being real,” he joked, his distasteful expression melting into one of adoration as he watched her laugh at his expense.

“Shut up,” she said, thrusting her arm out to playfully push him. He captured her hand underneath his own, his warm palm rough against her soft skin.

Normally, it would’ve been a light hearted gesture, because they joked with each other all the time in the villa, but in that moment, with no islanders, no cameras, no audience – those feelings they tried so desperately to repress were bubbling to the surface.

Nicky’s eyes flitted to her lips, parted in surprise at his hand covering her own. Her eyes flitted down his chest, fixating on the white button up beneath his blazer that hugged his toned chest just right.

He found his own gaze wandering down her body, the floor length dress accentuating places he normally never found himself looking at.

God, he had a full view of her near naked body every day for weeks and never thought twice about it, but now, seeing her in an elegant gown that was snug around the places that used to be exposed, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She knew she looked good, because the hair, makeup, and wardrobe people wouldn’t leave her alone until she was picture perfect. She wasn’t used to being under that kind of individual microscope, seeking the approval of rich people, like she was supposed to be one of them.

Danielle felt so out of place the entire night – until the moment Nicky stepped outside to comfort her.

“Nicky…” she breathed, the charged air between them sending an electric buzz through her limbs.

“Yeah?” he whispered, eyes half lidded, yet focused on her like she was the only person in the world.

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it, instead glancing around the balcony and the large glass doors and windows that riddled their side of the mansion.

“Let’s get out of here,” she chewed the inside of her lip, watching his every move, hoping – praying – that he wasn’t going to reject her.

“How?”

God, she could feel the secondhand embarrassment coming on, and she glanced away from his lips, trying to come up with an excuse to explain what came over her. Her cheeks warmed, and she was thankful for the thick foundation that neutralized her blush.

“Forget it,” she said, tugging away from him.

“I didn’t say no,” he murmured, firmly holding her hand in place. “I asked ‘how?’ Do we have a plan?”

She blinked, trying to process his words.

After all those months of pretending like she’d been rid of her feelings, he’d just affirmed that he wanted her just like she wanted him.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Very.”

Minutes later, after devising a quick plan to slip out the back, they were sprinting across the dewy lawn, breathless but free, sliding into the limo as soon as the driver opened the door for them.

They panted, smiles wide and skin glistening. As she watched a bead of sweat slip down his temple, the atmosphere changed, dripping with the sexual tension they never acknowledged.

Nicky was thankful the driver had already rolled the divider up, because as soon as his foot was on the gas, they were sliding closer to each other, folding under the pressure.

God, it was like the logical and emotional sides of his brain that’d been playing tug of war for so long finally snapped the rope, and everything he pretended not to notice flooded out.

There were so many things about her that he paid attention to that he figured was because they were close friends. He cursed himself for being such an idiot, because there’s no way he should’ve thought about her lips, the dimple on her left cheek, the curls that framed her face perfectly, the curve at the small of her back… a “friend” would’ve never thought about how gorgeous she was every single day.

He never betrayed Elladine, because he really did love her – but he mixed his feelings for both Elladine and Dani up. What he felt for Elladine was friendly love, like a family member or a best friend. The gravitational pull he had towards Dani should’ve never been mistaken for just friendship.

He had been falling for her day by day, but chalking it up to finding his life long best friend.

And as he searched her eyes, hand cupping her cheek, he knew he’d lucked out. He’d found both things in Dani: a partner and a best friend.

He spent weeks in a villa full of eligible women, but he demoted her before he could give her a true chance. He kicked himself in the ass for not realizing it sooner.

So when his lips met Dani’s for the first time, everything clicked into place.

They’d deal with the backlash of leaving the charity gala early. They’d deal with the press swarming them asking why he’d insisted on their friendship from the beginning. They’d deal with the onslaught of texts from the other islanders teasing them about finally getting together. They’d even deal with Elladine and Camilo later.

But in that moment, neither of them cared, focusing on the sweet bliss that was their first kiss.

And when he pulled back to see how she was feeling, he was met with the same serene expression he knew was on his own features – they were finally on the same page.

#litg #litg s3 #litg season 3 #litg nicky #nicky horne #litg fanfic #my fic #if u dont feel like reblogging/liking i'd appreciate a kudos !! <3

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bittywitches · 4 years

Text

Ask: 6. Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room. w gray ? 🤍

Oops forgot to post a lot of these 😅 (also I just realized this said heel but I didn’t do that exactly I’m sorry)

6. Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room

(for reference lol)

You honestly didn’t expect to find yourself in this situation, especially on your mother’s wedding day. This was supposed to be the best day of her life, she’d spent months planning this day for hours on end. She wanted it to be completely perfect, and you did all that you could to ensure that it would be. And you loved your Mom’s fiancée, she was literally the sweetest woman you’d ever met (aside from your momma). You already knew her pretty well, but in the weeks leading up to the wedding, you guys became even closer. She literally felt like one of your closest friends (even though she was a few decades older than you). So when the day finally arrived and you found out that you basically had no role to play in it? It hurt a bit.

You were already a bit furious with the fact that your sister was the one who got to be the maid of honour. Sure she was a lot older, and could probably handle the role a lot better, but it didn’t make you any less bitter. And even though you were still a bridesmaid, you were practically locked out of her dressing room for most of the night. And since you guys had gotten to the venue earlier than the wedding was scheduled, you just spent your time moping around the almost finished wedding hall.

It was only about an hour later did you have your phone ringing, a call from your sister. You sighed, picking the phone up reluctantly.

“Finally remembered that I exist?”

“Don’t be an ass. We need you to run an errand.”

“Of course. I knew my own family wouldn’t think of me unless they needed me for something.”

“Would you stop being petty for one second? There’s been an issue with the bouquets. Apparently, nobody remembered to go pick them up.”

“What? Isn’t the wedding supposed to start in-“ your phone away from your ear to look at the time. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Yea, that’s why I need you to GO.”

“Weren’t the bouquets supposed to be your responsibility?”

“Will you please just go get it?”

“What do I get out of this?”

“The satisfaction of giving mom the wedding of her dreams?”

“Mmmmm��.”

She sighed over the phone. “I’ll pay you.”

“How much?”

“Twenty dollars.”

“What, do you think I’m twelve? No deal.”

“Dude-”

“Do you want my help?”

“Ugh, fine. Thirty.”

“Fifty or you’re on your own.”

“What? I’m not paying you fifty dollars just to-”

“Alright, good luck with-”

“God, FINE! Fifty!”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Fuck you. I’ll text you the address.”

Seconds later your phone vibrated in your hand, the location of the florist popping up in your notifications. You stuffed your phone into your purse and headed for the coatroom.

As you approached the door, you were confronted with a few dozen faces pouring in through the front doors and drifting into the coatroom, in quite a disorganized fashion. You groaned. You guys were really cutting this close.

You pushed your way through the hectic sea of guests, making it through the coatroom door with a bit of ease, but after that, it was literally as if you were drowning in hairspray and cologne.

“How does my mom know so many people?” You grumbled, throwing out an ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ every half a second, but eventually just trying to push your way through the group of people.

Your eyes landed on your coat, so you began treading towards it, but just before you could grab it, the heel of your pump dug into something that most definitely was not the hardwood floor, causing your ankle to jerk sideways and you stumbled over.

“Woah,” Your shoulder jabbed into the side of a lavender dress shirt, and you definitely would’ve toppled over if it weren’t for the large hands that came up to catch you. You looked up to see who the voice was, and saw the face of a handsome young man staring back down at you.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry.” You fumbled, trying to stand up straight but another elderly woman rammed into your backside as she headed for the door, shoving your right back into the man’s arms.

“At least try to look where you’re going?” You yelled after her, but she only gave you a dirty look before leaving.

You sighed, looking away from her to see that you were still clutching onto the man’s shoulders, his black polyester slipping in your fingertips.

“God, hold on-” You leaned up and behind the man to reach up and grab your coat, your chest flushed against his when you did so, and his arms naturally came to rest on your lower back.

You leaned away, holding your coat in one hand and then grabbing his wrist with the other, yanking him to get him to follow you. You pulled him out of the coatroom, gasping when you finally got to breathe something that didn’t smell like fancy fabric softener.

“Felt like I was gonna drown in there,” You turned around to look at the man with you, colour returning to your face when you noticed his disheveled look.

“God, I’m really sorry,” you walked up to him and adjusted his blazer, straightening out the collar.

“It’s no big deal, really.” He placed his hands on your shoulders to get you to stop.

“No, you look so nice and I just,” You looked down at his black leather dress shoes to see the left one was creased right at the tip, a large cut where your heel had stepped on him.

“Oh my god, no!” You bent down at his feet, wiping at the top to see if it was just a smudge or not, and you blew air out of your nose in annoyance when you confirmed that the cut was there.

“Hey, it’s seriously not a problem.” He bent down to grab you by the shoulders and pull you back up.

“No, I ruined your shoes, and they look really expensive-”

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry.” You got up on your toes to fix his ruffle hair, a result of the pandemonium that had occurred within the coat room. “You’d think a place like this would have a bigger place to leave your coats.”

He laughed, and you smiled when he did. You noticed a gem on his canine tooth when he chuckled, almost looking similar to the two shiny studs in his ears. His hand came up to rub his stubble, trailing up his chin. You were right. He looked really nice.

He looked back at you, an eyebrow quirked. “You’re one of the bridesmaids, right? I saw a few girls wearing that dress outside when I came in. Seemed like they were in a rush.”

You sighed. “Yeah, apparently things aren’t going as smoothly as we’d hoped.” You tilted your head. “Well, as smoothly as they’d hoped.”

He scrunched his nose at you in confusion.

You stuck your hand out. “I’m Y/N. Daughter of the bride. Er, well, the bride that proposed.”

He laughed when you said that, and took your hand, giving it a firm shake. “Grayson.”

“My sister is the maid of honour.”

“Oh.... ouch.”

“Yea, pretty much sucks ass. She’s practically planned the whole thing without any of my help. Except now, because things are going off the rails, I’m the one who has to save everyone’s ass.” You blinked. “Speaking of, I should head to the florist’s. Bouquet mishap and whatnot.”

“Oh, okay.” He said, a bit disappointed. “Maybe I’ll see you la-”

“Wait!” You grabbed his arm, startling him a bit. “There’s a small formal wear store that’s literally in the same plaza as the florist! I can make up for ruining your shoes.”

His eyebrows raised. “Y/N, it really isn’t necessary-”

“Nonsense! I’m not going to let my mother have guests wearing improper attire to her own wedding.” You winked at him.

He chuckled. “Alright, we better leave quickly then. The wedding’s gonna start soon.” He held out his arm for you, his elbow jutting out to the side.

“My, what a gentleman.” You smiled, hooking your arm around his and gripping his bicep as you led him out to your car.

・・・

“So, how do you know Lindsey?” You said as you hopped out of your car, locking it behind you as Grayson followed suit. “I’m assuming you're a guest from her side.”

“Yea. My dad used to work with her, and they were pretty close. Recently drifted apart, but he was very excited to be invited to the wedding. She also used to babysit me.” He held the door to the florist open for you, and you walked inside.

“Hah, I bet you were a cute kid.”

“You think so?” He asked, the door jingling as it fell closed behind him.

“Well I can’t imagine that anyone could be ugly as a kid and then grow up to look like-” You looked over your shoulder at him to see him chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes resting gently on yours.

“What I mean is,” you fumbled, pulling the straps of your dress higher up your shoulder. “Nobody could have that big of a glow up.” You gave him a small smile, turning back to the counter to hide your gradually growing pink face.

“Well, thanks.” You heard his feet pacing behind you, snaking through the rows of beautiful flowers. It was pretty late, so nobody else was in the store except you two and the Clerk.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order. Should be under ‘Lindsey and Nia’.”

“Ah, yes. One moment.” The clerk disappeared through a door, and you laid your elbows onto the counter, your face resting on one hand while the other tapped your fingers on the cool marble.

“Hey,” You felt a tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to see Grayson gently holding a beautiful pink peony right in front of your nose.

You breathed in, taking in the wonderful scent, opening your eyes and looking up to meet Grayson’s soft ones.

“It matches your dress,” He said simply, but his sweet tone somehow made it feel like he was serenading you with a love song.

“It does.”

“Kinda looks like you,” He said, gesturing towards your low bun, tiny white flowers peeking out of it. He handed the flower to you, and you took it, holding it gently in your fingertips.

“It’s beautiful.”

“That’s what I said.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, a small but playful simper on his lips.

“I-”

“Here you are, miss.” You suddenly turned away from Grayson to look at the vendor, your eyes landed on the two pink plumeria bouquets.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous, thank you.” You took them from him, closing your eyes to inhale their scent.

“Do you plan on buying that, miss?” You looked at where he was pointing, and saw he was talking about the peony in your hand.

“Oh, no, I was just-”

“Actually, no. But I was.” Grayson stepped up to the counter, taking his wallet out of his pocket. You stepped back to give him some room, looking at him with a bit of wonder in your eyes.

“Five dollars.”

“For ONE flower-” You interjected, but Grayson rested his hand on your arm, and for some reason it silenced you.

Grayson handed the man a five-dollar bill. The vendor asked if he wanted a bag, and Grayson refused, wishing the man a good night after the exchange. He turned to you, handing you the flower then heading for the door.

“You coming?”

It felt like you’d been watching this happen from somewhere out of your body, and had to blink to get yourself to return to Earth. “Yea, coming.”

・・・

“Y/N, we seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do. I owe you for two things now.”

“The shoes were an accident, and the flower was barely anything, you don’t-”

“Just shut up and choose a pair of shoes.” You demanded, and he put his arms up in defeat, walking back up towards the display of shoes on the wall. You sat down on one of the stools, absent-mindedly smelling the beautiful pink flower that Grayson had gifted you.

“These look pretty good, don’t you think?” He gestured towards a pair that had two different shades of brown on it.

“You’re kidding right? Do you think my mom’s wedding theme is ‘the wild west’?”

“Jeez, it was just a suggestion.” He said with an exaggerated tone, and you giggled.

“How about these?” You walked up and picked up a jet black pair, almost resembling the ones he was wearing except for the seams lining the sides.

“They’re basically the same as these.” He wiggled one foot in the air.

“Yea, but these don’t have a cut in them.”

He chuckled, picking up the box that had those shoes, then taking them out to try them on. They fit perfectly.

“Dang, these are nice.” He sat down to slip them off and place them back in the box, but his eyes bulged when he saw the price tag. “No way, these are way too expensive.”

“Lemme see.” You read the label, and you had to chew the inside of your cheek to prevent you from making any sort of remark. “It’s not that bad.”

“Are you serious?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m paying for it.”

“That’s exactly why it does matter-”

“Grayson come on, I don’t have the time for this!” You took your phone out of your purse to check the time, and instead saw a stream of texts from your sister asking where you were. “I was supposed to be back like ten minutes ago. Just pick a pair of shoes!”

“But I can’t let you buy these! It’s too much!”

“You bought me something too.”

“It was a flower! For five dollars!”

“Okay, time’s up, we’re choosing these ones.” You grabbed them back from him, running for the front of the store as you heard Grayson call behind you.

“Y/N-”

You slammed the shoes down on the counter, startling the cashier. “Is this all, ma’am?”

“Yep.” Grayson stumbled up behind you, slipping on his creased shoe and sighing as the cashier scanned the box.

“At least let me pay for it.”

“What? No! Then I’d still owe you!”

“You don’t owe me anything-”

“Jesus, you’re more annoying than my mom and Lindsey bickering over what centerpiece they want.”

At that he finally dropped it, laughing. “Lindsey is pretty picky about her flowers.”

“Yeah.” You inserted your credit card and put in the pin. “I was surprised they were even able to make a decision on the bouquets. I was so sure they were going to choose different flowers.” You sighed, looking at him. “But Lindsey knew mom would die for these, and that was all she needed to know to make her decision.”

“Guess they really love each other, huh?” Grayson mused as you took your credit card back. The cashier handed you the bag with the shoes as well as a receipt, and you thanked her before walking out with him.

“Yea. They really do.” You remarked, looking down at the single peony still in your hand.

“Hey, your car is that way.” He grabbed your arm, then took the bouquets from you as you laughed at your disorientation.

“Right.”

・・・

After rushing to the dressing room to find half the exasperated bridesmaids as well as a finally stress-relieved sister, your mother gave you a huge sloppy kiss on the cheek that you squirmed away from, but you were happy all the same that she was able to get her bouquets. One of the other bridesmaids rushed off to give the second bouquet to Lindsey.

Of course you were pushed out a few minutes later, but this time you weren’t as upset. Your mind was lingering on other things… so when your sister pushed you out the door, you were quick to snatch the pink peony that you’d left lying on the dresser.

・・・

Ceremony over, bouquets thrown, tears wept and first dance completed; After it was all over, you found yourself hovering near the back of the hall, watching as your Mom and Step-mom danced the night away, carefree as ever with the biggest smiles on their faces. You sighed, happy at how this night had turned out. It was perfect, it was gorgeous, it really was everything you’d all dreamed of and more. The love of the two oozed out of their very pores, filling the room with a bubbly feeling that you quite easily caught on to you. You found yourself with eyes roaming the room, looking for a certain someone with a lavender dress shirt, but your shoulders slumped when you couldn’t find it through the haze of pink lights dancing across the room. You looked down, and took another whiff of the flower you still held in your hands, not daring to let go of it after your bridesmaid duties had been accomplished. You looked up again, hoping to find the disheveled hair and shiny studs.

“Looking for me?” A voice caught you from behind, and you looked behind you to see Grayson, his arms casually held behind his back, but a small smirk played on his lips when he noticed the flower in your hands. “Still have that?”

You bit your lip, slowly shifting your way over to him amidst the music and laughter. “It’s too pretty to get rid of.” You looked down to see he’d changed into the new shoes you’d bought him, and it brought a smile to your lips. “They look good.”

“They’re great. You have great taste.” You met his eyes, them dark and wonderful as they glazed over you. “I really wish you didn’t pay for them though.”

“I’m happy I did.”

“But now I owe you.” His fingertips met yours as he took the delicate flower from you, bringing it up to his face to smell it, smiling at the fact that it still had that wonderful scent.

“Maybe you can make it up to me…” Your hands came up to his, your fingers first tracing the petals of the flower, then down the stem, then dragging across his large hands.

He wrinkled an eyebrow. “How so?”

You gestured towards the dance floor, that now had many bodies moving to the music on it.

He smiled, taking a step back from you just so he could lean forward with one hand behind his back, the other holding the peony out for you. “May I have this dance?”

You grinned, taking the flower from him, but letting your fingers linger a little while longer this time. “Of course.”

He chuckled, holding his elbow out for you once more, and you gripped it, leading him towards the dance floor.

#Let's try this again lol #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins concept #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins blurb #ask

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psalloacappella · 3 years

Text

show me how

Pairings: SasuSaku Fandom: Naruto Rating: M Genre/Tags: AU; in which Sasuke is a driver, Sakura plays no games; also has an underground fight club; sexual tension; dominant Sakura; Uchiha bros being bros Ao3 | twt

In which Sasuke is the new driver for the Haruno heiress — and therefore, prey.

[In the words of Rihanna, You look like you can handle what’s under my hood // you keep saying that you will, boy, I wish you would.]

❦

His mother would say he’s aiming a bit above his station, lip-chewing, worrisome; his father would disapprove, thinking the new client spoiled.

Itachi, greyish eyes twinkling with some genial but teasing expression, shifts to let his ponytail tumble down his back. Women adore the look; Sasuke likens it to a horsetail well within earshot every chance he gets. Brothers, you know.

Pinching the photo between thumb and forefinger with hesitancy, the lack of commitment stark as a first app-date gone sour and seeking escape, Sasuke knows he’s pouting and he knows Itachi’s amused.

“I’d have taken her,” he consoles softly — Sasuke hates that tone too, like he’s chivvying a hot-tempered horse into his stable, oh gods, fuck Itachi for this — “but out of the two she requested you. Very taken with your photo.”

“Itachi.” The given name comes through gritted teeth, and Itachi struggles not to smile. Sasuke hopes the effort’s absolutely killing him. “This is the Haruno heiress. Pink hair, red temper?”

“Funny, I do know. Almost as if she’s famous, dear brother.”

“Infamous. For killing her last driver.”

“Oh, come now.”

“Running him off. Driving him to insanity.” And here Sasuke jabs the finger of his free hand against the photographed face: smiling, with a sharp gleam in her jade eyes. He punctuates each syllable against her cheek, “Take—your—pick!”

Itachi’s tongue clicks continue to conjure pastoral images of horses and other farmish animals, and Sasuke thinks this unasked for, supernatural form of punishment is a right divine kick in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sure the talk is mostly nonsense,” he soothes. Bending to behold the portrait shot further, he rests his fingers against his mouth. Pensive. People often adore that too. “After all, she’s cleaned up her image quite a bit.” Itachi extends his hand, counting off her improvements: “Issued apologies for the yacht incident—”

“Pretty sure she’s banned from the piers now.”

“Recovered brilliantly from her very public and messy breakup with the Hyuuga heir—”

“A piece of shit, granted, but she still keyed his car, and then his face—”

“Even had a great photo-op of visiting Uzumaki Naruto in the hospital—”

“That she put him in.”

“She even disbanded her underground fight club,” Itachi added, plucking the photo and folder from his younger brother’s hands, a final that’s that!

“Her what?”

“Bad optics. Oh, and you start Monday.” He pats a stunned Sasuke gently on the shoulder; not one to easily manage particularly happy or buoyant expressions, he prays to whatever forces or deities exist that he’s been passed over for the coveted yet dangerous position of personal driver for Miss Sakura Haruno.

Driver — ah, the term is misleading. A position often including, but not limited to: Chauffeur, personal assistant, event planner, bodyguard, bookkeeper, and occasionally dragging paparazzi out of the bushes by their lapels, testing meals for poison, and smuggling her short-term affairs in and out of back building doors.

A skittish attendant is the only witness to the moment in which he meets her in person.

Sunshowers, an unnatural brightness like daylight thunderstorms; a presence difficult to face head-on. Slender and swagger, something in the way she walks suggesting she’s aware of exactly who she is and what he’s probably heard, keen eyes plucking his thoughts from his soupy skull by slice and piece only to toss them aside, limp, discarded.

And she’s gorgeous. Beauty in lethality, the inherent quality pined for in mythological Olympian goddesses and well-crafted guns and dangerous and unwieldy luxury cars. The wreckage left in their wake easy to augur with plain eyes if anyone can resist the siren song.

Sasuke’s hands are clammy when they shake. She notices, with a gaze like whetted glass.

Fuck Itachi. Fuck this. Fuck me.

“How do you like to be addressed . . . Miss Haruno?”

A smirk plays on her lips. “Not like that, for damn sure. Sakura’s fine. Let’s go.”

She’s opening her own car door and about to lower herself in before he snaps to — the tyranny of her heels against the cobblestones twists him into impossible nautical knots.

“I don’t care if you get the door,” she says, “but Tsunade’ll have your head.” With a jerk of her chin, she indicates she’s ready to go.

“Won’t happen again,” he says, dipping his head in apology and settling into the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

“Oh, wherever.” Flicks a dainty wrist, yet he catches the brushrust scrapes smeared across her knuckles. “You’re a driver, after all; I want to see you drive.”

Easing the car into gear, they pull away from the curb in silence. Eyeing him caddy-corner from the back, she folds her arms and crosses her long, impossibly long legs at the ankles.

“So.” The word’s sharp as a blade, scratches him without warning. “What do you know about me?”

He makes a noncommittal noise, hoping to avoid riposte; when he catches the slight flare of her nostrils in the mirror, he settles on the bland and stupid, “I’m not sure what you mean, Mis— Sakura.”

“Don’t play coy,” she says. “Tell me what the quidnuncs on the street say, gossiping over their limp salads and lackluster lives.”

“I’ve heard you’ve run every driver out of town.”

“Yes, that’s fair. The last one quite literally; he was terrified, in the end.”

“I’ve heard you . . . play with your food.”

Another careful peripheral glance in the mirror: He sees her uncross her arms, grip the edges of the seat. Leaning forward, eyes bright and something, essence or woven narrative or tangled web undulating, unraveling. She exposed; him, encroaching.

Voice low, lean, and throaty when she affirms,

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

The click! of a released seat belt latch, and she’s sliding over to the backseat behind him.

Sasuke’s mouth runs dry, parched as desert sand, sunbaked stone. There’s a first time for everything, including this unsettling feeling to which he has nothing to compare.

Leather moulding to her shape as she leans against the seat, her gaze seeking refuge and scraping at any weak spots in the back of his skull.

“If you were hoping for a shy one, you’re driving the wrong car for the wrong girl.”

He scoffs, but it sounds nervous, bad for business —

she’ll devour him.

“Of all the things I’ve heard,” he says, “shy was definitely not one of them.”

He doesn’t know when his voice decided to do that, slide into a low bass with the ease and thrum of rich regal rhythm; he doesn’t know when he even had a breath to release, the way it manifests as a pant in the hot shared air of the car.

“Lest you be misinformed,” and still her tone is grainy, the stret-scratch of extempore acoustic guitar, “I don’t act this way with all my drivers. Any, in fact.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t, with that aloof disbelief.” She presses her foot against his seat and he feels a jab right in the middle of his back, the equivalent of a flirtatious swat at the arm. A bit more intimidating than that, he supposes.

“Everything is so public for me,” she continues. Pauses. “I’m almost never alone. Drivers continue to disappoint me, pretending to be my confidant but in reality reporting my behavior to sleazy paparazzi. It’s never about the money; they love divulging. They can’t help themselves.”

He would be willing to debate the “drivers” label, but he now understands why the last one and many before have been dealt a particularly heavy hand in the method of released employment.

“So.”

This time the word’s triumphant, and Sasuke manages not to startle as her heel settles on the shoulder of the driver’s seat. Skin close enough to press his lips to, swirling floral scents of jasmine and others unidentified, salient sweet cherry. Glancing at the tempting slope of her calf, he keeps his eyes firmly on the road even as the dark corners of his mind lead his mouth marching up her pliant skin, bound by siren song, and into what surely is the most sacrosanct and calamitous temple of them all.

“You have this chance to quit,” she whispers. “Right now, no fuss.”

And he betrays himself a second time, scoffing as the suggestion of course is mirthful, ridiculous, knowing somehow he’ll never do so. He’s never been one to shirk duty, and untangling from this, whatever this is, already bids the trappings and fixation of an addiction too virulent and electric to leave.

“I’ll take that as acceptance,” Sakura says, now all joy and sparkle, wiggling her shoe near his handsome face.

Though his hands are clammy on the wheel, his words manage to gloss over the catch in his throat as he asks, “Ah, where to?”

In the mirror he watches: Another layer of her falls again, as crêpe layers, as petals. It’s the first time he notices the lambent green of her nails, and she nibbles on one before responding, in a way so deliberate he’s distracted by the way her lips form the words:

“Show me how you drive.”

#psalloacappella #sasusaku #sasusakufanfic

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datleggy · 4 years

Note

But to piggy back on your other anon, Christopher, Harry, or Denny brings home a bad grade on a report card and one of the parents are talking about it and Buck over hears and just freaks out because he doesn't want the kids to get the same punishments that he had growing up, queue horrified realization.

Good People. Bad Parents.

tw: abuse

Buck comes limping out of the lockers, freshly bathed, hair still wet and curly at the ends, a complete turnaround from earlier, when he’d jumped down into the sewers for a rescue mission.

“How’s the leg?” Bobby meets him halfway and despite Buck’s insistence that he’s just fine, the Captain helps him get over to the lounge, where he can sit and rest comfortably.

“I’m good.” It was just his ankle, after all, nothing too bad. Not as bad as falling face first into the filthy sewer water when the unmaintained ladder he was climbing down decided to snap in two. The drop hadn’t been too far down, thankfully, and Buck had come out of it relatively unscathed, save for a twisted ankle and some minor scrapes and bruises.

“Give it here.” Eddie gently raises Buck’s injured leg so that it’s resting atop his lap and places a cool ice pack over the inflamed ankle.

Buck hisses at the cold but doesn’t complain, letting Eddie take care of him.

Chim leans over with an alcohol swab and starts disinfecting all the little cuts and bruises on the side of Buck’s face and his elbows. “Stay still.”

Buck whines. “But it stings.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, smiling at the bickering. “Chim, be nice.”

Buck sticks his tongue out at Chim and Eddie laughs at the indignant look on his face. Hen joins the crew a few moments later, having hung up the phone with her wife, sighing as she sit down.

“Everything alright?” Bobby asks, tilting his head curiously at the sour look on her face.

“Denny stuck a piece of gum in his hair at school today.” she huffs out an irritated breath. “Karen’s pissed. She had to take him to get it cut out, it was so glued in there.”

Chim’s eyes go wide. “God, not the hair.”

“She’s gonna send me photos later, I don’t even want to see.” Hen shakes her head. “He’s in big trouble when I get home, though, you can be sure of that.”

Eddie grimaces in sympathy with her. “I don’t know what I’d do if Christopher did that. Abuela is obsessed with his hair---she’d be devastated.”

“Hey, Buck, you alright?” Bobby asks, noticing how stiff Buck has gone since the start of their conversation. Pale, too. Did he manage to catch something, trudging down there in the sewers today?

Buck blinks, “Huh?” he shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, um,” he turns back to look at Hen, his brows knitted together in concern. “He’s just a kid, I’m sure he’s sorry.”

Hen scoffs. “He’s sure as hell gonna be; I’ve told that boy a million times to stop playing with gum, I don’t even know where he got some.”

“I mean, it’s just hair,” Buck gulps, “It’ll grow back.”

Chim shrugs. “Maybe it’s cause I don’t have kids of my own yet, but I gotta say, I agree with Buckaroo here. What’s the big deal?”

“We’re lucky he stuck that gum in his hair and not a classmates.” Hen groans. “If you let ‘em get away with the small stuff later on it’s mayhem, trust me.”

Eddie nods in agreement. “I remember I cut my sister’s hair into these ugly ass bangs when I was around Christopher’s age. It was right before picture day, too, I was grounded for like a month.”

Buck looks at him, surprised. “Just grounded? I would have gotten the hard side of the belt for something like that. Or at least made to sleep outside.”

Chim balks. “Wait, back up, your parents made you sleep outside?”

Eddie almost loses his grip on the ice pack. “And did you say the hard side of the belt?”

Buck stares at the both of them like they’re the ones who aren’t making any sense. “Well, yeah, duh.” he shrugs. “They were strict. It wasn’t that bad. Like, if I got a bad grade at school I had to sleep outside and skip dinner or something. It wasn’t always the belt.”

“They wouldn’t let you eat?” Bobby can feel his pulse skyrocketing, he’s so mad.

“No, but that’s only if I messed up in school.�� Buck reasons, confused by the abject horror on everyone’s faces.

Hen is reeling. “Buck, that’s not---wait, even in the winter? They would make you sleep outside then?”

“No, of course not.” Buck denies. “They’d just make me sleep in the basement. It was still pretty cold and they’d get mad if I tried to turn on the lights, so it was kind of scary,” he admits, “But still way better than sleeping in the snow.” the way Buck says that, sounds like he’s talking from experience.

“Buck, is that why you don’t want me to punish Denny?” she asks, soft.

“Denny’s a good kid.” Buck insists, biting his bottom lip nervously. He was a rambunctious, loud and frankly, annoying kid, he deserved everything he got. “He doesn’t deserve to get punished.”

“Neither did you.” Bobby interrupts firmly. “Buck, I think Hen meant she was going to ground him, or maybe take away a toy he likes to play with, right?”

Hen nods. “Of course. Buck, I would never hurt Denny or punish him unfairly.” she reassures him. “What your parents did to you was not ok. You know that, don’t you?”

Buck shakes his head. “I wasn’t exactly the easiest kid to deal with.”

“No kid is.” Eddie retorts. He wants to take a plane to Hershey and have a talk with the Buckleys. “That doesn’t mean you put your hands on them or kick them out of your fucking house, Buck.”

Buck shakes his head again. “They didn’t actually kick me out, look, just forget I said anything.” He ignores the pain in his ankle and the chorus of people calling after him as he makes him way to the bunks, where he can rest in peace. They have no idea what they’re talking about.

His parents were good people. He was just a bad son.

That’s all there is to it.

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

It’s quiet in the station when Bobby finds Buck in the kitchen, looking for leftovers. He’d fallen asleep and consequently missed dinner earlier.

“I saved you a plate, go sit, I’ll heat it up for you.” Bobby says.

“You don’t have to, I can---”

“I want to. Now go, let me do this for you.” Bobby leads an unsteady Buck to the stool and makes him sit and take pressure off of his swollen ankle.

Buck rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Bobby turns around, “I’m here if you ever want to talk. You know that, right?”

Buck huffs, frustrated. “You’re not listening. I don’t want to talk, I don’t need to talk, because it really wasn’t that bad. They were a little strict, it’s not a big deal.”

“Buck, if Harry got a bad grade at school, would it be ‘no big deal’ if I decided it was fine to let him sleep outside for the night, just to teach Harry a lesson? Would it be ok for me to hit him with my belt or make him go to bed hungry?”

“No, but that’s different, Harry’s not---” Buck stops, his fists clenched on the counter top. “He’s not a bad kid...” he finishes, in an almost whisper.

Bobby walks over and rests a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Neither were you.”

“You don’t know that.” Buck argues, though the fight is gone.

“I do. Because I know the kind of man you are now, and that’s a good one. One I’m proud to have on my team.”

Buck bites his lip, looks up through suspiciously wet lashes at Bobby, unsure. “You are?”

“Buck, I know I don’t say it a lot, but you’re important to me and I love you.” he squeezes the shoulder under his palm. “And I’m here for you, son. We all need help sometimes, and according to what a very smart young man once told me, all you have to do is ask.”

Buck’s face crumbles and Bobby is there to wrap him in his arms before Buck can fully utter the word help.

He holds Buck tightly, one hand at the back of his head, pulling him in so that Buck’s cheek can rest on his shoulder. “You’re so good Buck. You deserve good things.”

Buck lets out a convulsive little gasp; he’s trying hard not to outright sob but Bobby’s not making this easy. He doesn’t want to risk waking everybody else up. Partly because he’s embarrassed, but mostly because he’d like just a few more minutes of this. Of being able to soak up the warmth of Bobby’s affection.

Eventually Buck forces himself to pull away, swiping at his eyes surreptitiously. “I’m ok.”

Bobby looks skeptical at best, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he takes the leftover food out from where it’s been warming in the oven and serves Buck a hearty plate. They sit together in companionable silence, Buck’s chewing the only sound. He only eats about half the plate, but it’s better than nothing, Bobby thinks, as he takes the rest and wraps it up to put it in the fridge.

“Thanks Cap.” Buck stands up, looking lost, torn between wanting to go back to bed and maybe hitting the gym. He doesn’t quite want to go to sleep just yet. But he knows if he makes too much noise this late at night he’ll risk waking up the rest of the 118.

Bobby sees right through him. “Come on, sit with me a while, I’m not tired yet.”

Buck limps over to the couch, huffing when he sits. “You don’t hafta stay up with me.”

Bobby turns on the TV, the volume low enough that they’d have to strain their ears to really hear anything. “How else am I supposed to figure out what types of forks I should be buying for the kitchen?” he nods at the infomercial playing.

Buck rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smile. “You can’t buy those. They’re so ugly.” he plays along.

“I don’t know,” Bobby counters. “The lime green really pops. Do you think Athena would let me get a set for the house?”

Buck laughs, softly. “I’d pay money to see you try.”

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

Eddie wakes up before five in the morning and the first thing he does is check on Buck’s bunk, only for it to be empty.

He panics for a moment before realizing the Captain’s bed is empty too.

Eddie quietly makes his way to the lounge area. He finds Buck and Bobby on the couch, sound asleep. Buck’s head is on Bobby’s lap, and Bobby’s hand is resting right over his shoulder and forearm, fingers grazing Buck’s chest.

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief.

Buck is going to be ok.

They’ll make sure of it.

#anon #ask #tw abuse #on ao3 posted under datleggy #evan buck buckley #911 fox #fic #hurt/comfort #bobby is buck's dad #Good People. Bad Parents.

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

Text

Games We Play

Steggy Week 2k20, day 3 Prompt: Modern Day

Summary: Steve and Peggy’s new interest in their phones has the others confused and concerned.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for organizing!

Steve often sits up front to chat with Clint when he’s in the pilot’s seat. According to him, he used to do that during the war sometimes too, just shooting the breeze while being transported here or there. (Well, he actually said “shooting the shit,” which made Clint raise an eyebrow, but probably like him more than he thought he’d ever like someone who referred to “the war,” as if there’d only been one.)

It’s just the two of them today - unusual but they were the ones around - and yet Steve takes out his phone as they take off, fiddling around and muttering at it.

“You need me to drop you over the Apple Store on the way back?” Clint finally asks, trying to tease out what the issue is. He’s actually fine without a conversation, and Steve is pretty good at comfortable silence, but you take care of your teammates, notice when something’s different. Agent Carter might be around, understanding him in ways no one else can, but it can be good to get a new perspective.

“What?” Steve says, still distracted. “No, it’s fine.” He gives a final, triumphant tap to his screen, mutters, “How d’you like that?” and puts his phone into his pocket.

“Okay.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Now explain the appeal of NASCAR to me again.” So Clint does, and Steve still doesn’t get it, and Clint notices him continuing to check his phone the whole rest of the trip back.

“Morning, Aunt Peg!” Tony strides into her office as if Peggy’s assistant is a potted plant, and not even a particularly interesting one. Hugo is a bulldog with nearly everything, and had actually tendered his resignation in shame over his inability to stop Tony from doing what he wanted; Peggy told him that unfortunately this was a Stark feature that they would both have to simply learn to live with.

By which she means that Hugo can stand down and allow Tony entry without a fight - but that Peggy doesn’t have to give him a scrap of attention until she is ready to do so.

She doesn’t even glance up as he seats himself across from her, slapping a file folder against his palm. The gum he is chewing - actual bubble gum, like a child - is obvious from both the scent and the bubbles he blows to entertain himself as she continues to drag her finger across her tablet.

His patience, of course, runs out first. Doubtless he’d already been a little buzzy with energy if he’d decided to take a trip down with hard copy documents for her. “What are you doing there?” he asks, craning to see, but the glare from the window is too strong and a second later, she’s dropped the cover shut anyway and transferred her attention to her computer monitor.

“I think you’ve adapted too well to modern technology,” he tells her grumpily, watching the ease with which she switches between them. That actually makes her flick a laughing eyebrow upward.

“We use what we have and do what we must. I would certainly like to see you trying to get by in 1945.”

Tony shudders. “No bet. I’ve seen one of my dad’s old soldering irons from back then. Thick as a pipe. Totally without finesse.”

“Howard did manage quite a bit without your fancy tools, but there’s no shame if you couldn’t,” she says innocently, attention entirely focused on clicking something as he sputters in front of her. Typing a few final words, she finally turns toward him fully. “Now what was it you needed, or were you merely finding it dull in your workshop despite your precision soldering irons?”

“I’m starting to remember why I always regret coming down here,” he mutters, but flips the folder onto her desk anyway. “Just need your John Hancock by the arrows. Or Jane Hancock, I guess.”

She picks up the file, starting to page through it as she remarks over the top, “Oh, are we going to waste some perfectly good tea by tossing it into the harbor?”

“I think your Lipton is safe.”

“As if I would ever,” she says sternly, marking a large X across a paragraph she doesn’t like, turning the page and doing it again. Once she’s finished with the whole document, she drops it back onto the desk so it slides toward him.

“You must have known I wouldn’t sign that.”

“Worth a try,” he shrugs.

“Well, try again and see if it’s worth your while,” she says, just as her tablet makes a soft, insistent ding.

“Need to get that?” Tony asks, leaning shamelessly forward as she flicks the cover open.

She spins her chair, saying archly, “I do, actually. I assume you can find your way out?”

“Naughty pics from Cap, huh?”

“Yes, which leaves me to wonder why you’re so eager to catch a glimpse.”

“He’s a handsome man,” Tony says, seemingly unbothered, but when Peggy replies, “He certainly is,” he makes a retching sound and stands to leave.

“Bothered by a woman enjoying her sexual prime, are we?” she asks, and he beats his way out of her office, passing Hugo at a near-jog.

She chuckles quietly and applies herself back to the task at hand.

“I don’t think it has an easy answer,” Bruce says, “and we’ll probably be dealing with it for a long time yet.”

“It’s probably a good first step that it’s being taken on at all. Back—” Steve stops himself, takes a sip of his drink; he tends toward coffee on the whole, but when they meet up he usually joins Bruce in his search for the best chai in the city.

“You were going to say, “back in my day…” weren’t you?” Banner teases, gently delighted. “It’s okay, you still can. I won’t tell.”

Steve shakes his head. “Tony probably has some kind of radar for it.” He moves off the curb to let a couple pushing a baby carriage go by, then steps back up to walk the last block to the tower beside Bruce.

“How’s the latest alloy coming?” Steve asks, tossing his cup into the garbage by the reception desk. Bruce groans, even though it’s nice to have someone actually remember what project he’s working on.

“We’re getting close, but the fine tuning is a killer.” The elevator arrives and people start flowing out into the lobby. “What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Not much,” Steve starts, but then puts his hand in his pocket, distracted by the vibration from his phone. “I’m just—I have to—”

“Are you coming?” Bruce asks, after he’s been holding the door of the empty elevator for a solid minute and Steve, engaged with the device, doesn’t even seem to have noticed. Bruce wonders if he’s read the research about changing brains based on screen use.

Steve waves a hand, attention still on the screen. “I’ll take the next one.”

“Same time next week for book club?” Bruce calls as the doors close.

“Yeah.” Steve actually looks up at him for a second, that familiar grin on his face. “This’ll all be finished by then.”

Bruce returns to his lab with the definite feeling that he doesn’t want to know exactly will be finished.

“There really aren’t any beaches like the ones over there. I’ve only ever been while I was working, and I still managed to have a good time,” Natasha says, finishing the last of her steak.

“We are planning a vacation,” Peggy says thoughtfully. “The middle of April, as long as no world-ending danger pops up between now and then.”

Nat smiles. “We’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Although you could always slip out before things get really bad and just forget to have your phones on.”

“Steve would never stand for it,” Peggy says, which is true, but they both know that Peggy herself wouldn’t either.

“Is everything…” Natasha hesitates. Uncharacteristic, maybe, but she still isn’t entirely used to the rules of having friends. “Are you and Steve okay? Because I’ve been picking up a little...something lately.”

“What? Oh, yes, everything’s fine.” Peggy takes a little sip of iced tea through her straw. “I have no idea what you might have detected.” And if Nat wouldn’t have said it with equal complete casualness, she might have believed her.

“Are you sure? Because--”

Peggy’s phone buzzes inside her purse on the table. She takes it out, pursing her lips as she looks at the screen.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot lately,” Nat says slowly.

With a laugh, Peggy taps one last time and slides her phone away. “Isn’t everyone these days? Terrible habit, but I’m sure I’ll break myself of it one day soon.” She picks up the dessert menu. “Now, what’s for pudding?”

Natasha orders the most deeply chocolatey thing on the menu; she figures she deserves it with whatever’s going on.

“A strong bout,” Thor says, clapping Steve approvingly on the shoulder.

Steve walks over to the bench at the side of the gym where they left their stuff. “You too, even if the whole ‘mythical god who can call down storms’ bit tilts things a little in your favor.”

“Your little disc stands up well to them!” Thor assures him earnestly, tapping the shield as Steve sets it down and picks up his phone. “But perhaps I can make it up to you.”

“Depends,” Steve says with a frown, taking in whatever is on the screen, “on whether you know anything about the game Scrabble and what to do with these letters.”

Thor leans over to look. “You use the letters to make words which intersect, I understand.” His eyes roam over the board and then he says tentatively, “Are there not gherkins on Midgard?”

“Huh?”

“Gherkins?” Thor forms a little shape with his large fingers in demonstration. “Small pickled cucumbers?”

A smile grows over Steve’s face. “You’re a genius,” he says, manipulating something on the screen. “A genius at storms and at Scrabble.”

“Well,” says Thor, clearly pleased but trying to be fair, “perhaps only very good at Scrabble.”

“You know what was really great? When you put down kinkajou,’” Steve says around the toothbrush in his mouth. He spits. “I had wanted to use that N but it was worth it.”

“It was,” says a satisfied Peggy from where she’s changing into her pajamas. “And I’d like to know where exactly you pulled ‘bezique’ from.”

“Churchill loved it. He tried to get me to play a time or two. I was just lucky the B was already on the board.” Flipping off the bathroom light, he comes over to the bed and pulls the covers aside for himself.

Between their combined salaries - well, after Peggy found out that Steve was still getting the baseline amount agreed to after he’d woken up and had negotiated an appropriate raise on his behalf - they’ve been able to afford not only a bed that they can sprawl in, but a bedroom that their new mattress can fit into. Lying down in it might be Steve’s favorite part of the day.

“Did you realize we’d been worrying everyone this week? They all think something awful has been happening or that we’re breaking up.” He stretches, shoving the extra pillow to her side (he can’t sleep with more than one).

Peggy snorts. “Amateurs. They should just be lucky that they didn’t see us after the poker championship back in—What was it, ‘44?”

“Just before - December of ‘43. I didn’t think I’d make it to New Year’s,” he recalls fondly as she climbs into bed and snuggles into him.

“I’d never have let that happen. You’re smart, moderately talented, and you play to win; it would be a shame for that to go to waste.”

He kisses her. “Good to know where I stand, I guess.” He kisses her again. “Maybe we’ll tone things down a bit but how about a new game tomorrow?” He kisses her a gentle third time.

“We’ve played every day since we discovered the application,” she points out. “Why should tomorrow be any different?” She kisses him this time, pressing him back into the pillow until he forgets all about competition or vocabulary or any of it.

(Eight and a half months later, she types “magnetizes” triumphantly into her phone - and on a triple word score too - as they wheel her up to the maternity floor. They don’t tell anyone else about that part.)

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Avengers #this is prob the weak link of the week but here we are...

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lionspridetingz · 4 years

Text

Sweetener - Mason Mount

chapter seven - goodnight n go

“Oh, why'd you have to be so cute? It's impossible to ignore you, why must you make me laugh so much? It's bad enough we get along so well. Just say goodnight and go.”

~A few days later~

“So let me get this straight, you two met up at your spot where you both share so much history and made up, to be ‘just friends’?” your friend asked you as you both set up the things for the barbecue your friend group was hosting.

You nodded as she handed you a stack of cups to place on the table. She rose her eyebrow at you, “Righhhttt and you’re sure theres no feelings between you two, cuz that day I came to your house, you both looked a bit flushed, like you were hiding something.”

“Anabelle, i promise nothing is going on between me and mason, we’re just friends, nothing more.”

“Rightttt, whatever you say, just behave tonight, i remember how you two used to be at these kind of things.” she eyed you for a reaction but didn’t get anything.

It wasn’t that you wanted to lie to your best friend, you just knew you had to for now, not that she would have a bad reaction to you two technically getting back together, it was cause you and mason promised to take it slow, which meant not saying anything to any of your friends yet, no matter how hard it was.

And you can already tell its gonna be even harder as you hear Anabelle open the door to none other than Mr. Mason Mount looking ever so gorgeous with his nice summer tan, his longer hair, a little stint of facial hair, ‘god that facial hair looks so good on hi- Y/N get it together goddamn it.’

You shook your head and smiled as mason came walking over to you to greet you. Engulfing you in a ‘friendly hug’, before whispering in your ear, “hello beautiful, missed me?” winking at you at an angle only you can see making you roll your eyes at him as well as trying to hide a small blush on your cheeks.

Anabelle came over wrapping her arms around both of you, asking for a favor, “since both of you are such good friends now, I can send you two to go finish setting up outside while I figure out the new speakers my brother bought in here.” you both nodded and headed outside. Mason smirking as he can still see the small blush you wore.

The two of you setting up plates and utensils in silence, Mason looking over at you every so often with that look you can’t resist.

“Mase,” his ears sprung up when you spoke his nickname, “tell me why you gotta look at me that way, you know what it does to me.” you eyed him making him smirk stepping closer to you. You looked back at the house hoping no one was looking.

“Aww baby, whatcha trying to say?” he wiggled his eyebrows wiggled at you making you scoff before he continued talking, “ you know lately all i can think about is how all i want is you on top of me.” he started gently touching your side with his hand.

“You know where your hands should be,” you said smacking his hand away before moving away from him, heading back towards the house to see if Anabelle figured out the new speakers.

“If that's true, why don’t you come and show me?” he screamed, just loud enough for you to be the only one who heard it.

The entire night you two could barely resist yourselves, constantly giving each other flirty looks, sneaking touches, yes you two were supposed to be going slow, but you really couldn’t help yourself, maybe it was the light buzz of the drink Anabelle kept pouring you but all you wanted to do was walk over to him where he was talking to some of the other guys at the barbecue and smash your lips on his.

But you couldn’t, you needed to control yourself.

That self control almost went out the window when you were both sat across each other at the table and he kept giving you the look, the look that left a shiver down your spine, and made your cheeks go red.

“Hey Y/N you alright you look a bit flustered.” your friend Melanie asked, you nodded and just blamed it on the alcohol and the weather. Everyone seemed convinced of the answer except Mason, who just smirked as he continued to chew his food. You grimaced at him and decided to play at his level.

Carefully slipping off your sandal by ‘accidentally’ dropping a napkin on the floor, picking it up and seeing he was in conversation with the guy sitting next to him, noticing it to be the perfect time for your plan. You pressed your foot to his leg making his eyes go wide and him cough a bit and turned to take a sip of his drink giving you a daring face, you just shrugged taking a bite of your food. He returned to his conversation as well as eating but not before you slid your foot up his leg slowly, drawing a reaction from him. When your foot made it to his thigh he gripped your ankle, looked at you with a face telling you to stop before pushing your foot off of him, and all you could do was smirk to your victory.

The rest of the evening went by quickly, the two of you seemingly calmed down after what happened at dinner, and once it was time for the party to end, you both were the first to offer to help Anabelle with cleaning up, which she greatly accepted. She had your both on the washing dishes duty while she went to go pick up outside.

The two of you stood there just quietly being in each others presence, mason not liking the silence so he nudged you playfully as you poured water over the soapy plate, making you giggle.

“What was that earlier huh?”

“What was what?” you smirked knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Oh you wanna be like that? I’m talking about the footsie game you were trying to play with me.”

“Ohhhhh that, it was pretty fun to see you all flustered,” he rolled his eyes at that, “aww Mase I know you love how i tease ya,” you winked making him chuckled, “besides you kept giving me the look all night.”

“Oh I was giving you the look huh? Do tell me Y/N what this look consists of.” he stopped drying the plate he had in his hand and looked at you.

“You know damn well the look you were giving me and don’t you deny it, need i remind you we’re supposed to be taking it slow.” you finished handing him another plate to dry before rinsing out the excess soap in the sink.

“Says the one who was trying to turn me on during dinner!” he exclaimed chuckling, making you shrug and wink at him as you went to get your things to head home. Anabelle coming in and thanking you both for your help, and asking how you’d get home.

“I’ll probably just get an uber or something.” you shrugged pulling out your phone, but in true Mason fashion he protested.

“You are not getting in an uber this late at night, I didn’t drink anything I’ll drop you off at home.”

After a bit of back and forth you decided to let him drive you home, Anabelle saying bye to you at the door, and whispering “remember just friends” and winking at you.

This car ride was completely silent until you spoke up as he pulled up to your house.

“Why do you make it so hard?”

Mason turned down the music, “What do you mean?” he chuckled a bit, showing his perfect white smile that you adored.

You couldn’t help but groan making him confused, “I mean it’s so hard to not find you cute or to resist you, you make my guard go down every time you’re around, and I cant help but want to kiss you in front of all of our friends just like I used to, you make me wish we weren’t taking this slow.”

“Butterfly… we don’t have to take this slo-” you stopped him

“Are we making a mistake? Am i more importantly making a mistake, I just feel like I was getting better and then you come back and you pull me in again cuz you just have this control over m-” he cut you off with a kiss. Making your hands go to his hair as you kissed back, before pulling away and slumping back in the passenger seat.

“Always have to leave me with a bang, couldn’t just say goodnight and go huh?” he smirked, leaning over and grabbing your hand. “You have just as much control over me Y/N and I wouldn’t want it any other way, I don’t think this is a mistake, we can take it at your pace, whatever you wan-” this time you cut him off with a kiss, a short and sweet one.

“Stay tonight.”

“What?” he was taken aback.

“Stay the night with me, my parents won't be home til Wednesday, they’re visiting my aunt up north. I want to take it slow, but I’m not going to deny how bad I want to lay in your arms tonight like the old times. So please, stay the night and we can figure out the pace we’ll go at in the morning. I’m sure your big empty house won't miss you too much.” you winked and he nodded stealing another kiss from you making you smile. The both of you exiting the car and entering your house, feeling close together like the good old days.

#surprise #mason mount imagine #footballer imagine #football imagine #football imagines #footballer imagines #chelsea #england nt #mason mount #sweetener

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

Text

Graham Norton (Harry Styles x Reader)

Requested: No.

Warnings: I've written this ages ago. that should be warning enough.

My Masterlist this can also be found on my Wattpad

The Boys of One Direction were recently on Graham Norton, and I was the last guest he would call on stage. I was slightly nervous, my palms wet and I had to prevent myself from chewing my lipstick off. I had been looking forward to that show and also sharing my time with the boys of One Direction. I had seen them only once and very brief, backstage at the VMA's last year and since then they but also my career had skyrocketed even more. Which was very nice, sure, but it also added a bit more nerves and pressure. Adding to that, I had just released my second studio album which I had not talked in public before. I rubbed my palms over my pants. My eyes trailed nervously through the room I waited for my cue, landing on the large mirror. I got up and carefully pushed untameable curls back. I had them pulled into a tight ponytail, so that they just gently touched my shoulders and wouldn't give me the opportunity to play with it. Which was a nervous habit of mine and my media-trainer had told me many times to stop with it. My critical eyes wandered down my outfit: simple white, double breasted pants which accentuated the waist nicely. The silky tie-neck blouse with the button cuffs was tucked in and the light creamy pink colour went nicely with my hair and the pants. For shoes I had decided on heels, subtle ankle-strap beauties in a nude rose. The whole outfit was elegant but not too muh, still comfortable and pretty much wardrobe malfunction proof.

I snapped up when I suddenly heard Graham's slightly muffled voice saying my name. Carefully I walked towards the door, staring into the still dark hallway towards stage. I had asked for privacy until my cue, means that my manager wouldn't have to stick around please. Just a young woman who had introduced herself as Gracie and would pick me up at my cue, but she wasn't even in sight yet. Graham seemed to simply talk about me to the boys... „She is waiting, yes. Don't worry Harry, we will bring her out soon." Loud laughter and whistling broke out and it swallowed the young mans answer. "So you guys now her? Except for Harry, obviously." Again, muffled laughter. "Yes we know her. As you said correctly, especially Harry. You could say that he's a fan." I heard Liam say, and the crowd awed. I felt my cheeks heating up slightly, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips. "Yeah it's been known..." Harry now said, sounding a bit embarrassed. „She's amazing; I can't blame you Harry. Wonderful voice, and wonderful face!" Graham said. A small smirk stole itself on my lips. "She is." Harry agreed. „She just recently started to follow him on Instagram. The lad almost started to cry." I could heard Louis and the crowd awed again. "I didn't!" Harry exclaimed quickly, embarrassment clearly evident in his voice. "You did. When he heard that she's on show with us, he totally freaked out. Stop lying." I meant to understand the heavy Yorkshire accent of Zayn. "Oh really? Well we can surely get you her number if you want to...or do you want to break into her dressing room...?" Graham jokingly suggested and I grinned. That wouldn't even be too bad...I mean it was Harry Styles. Pretty wonderful boy inside and out, everyone disagreeing was just in denial. Loud laughter was the reaction. "Oh good lord..." I could hear Harry groaning. "Shoot your shot mate!" Louis cheered jokingly, but Harry seemed not to answer anything on it. At least not something I could hear. "She can't hear us, right?" Niall asked and I felt like I could hear him grinning. A shocked gasp from probably Harry was heard. „She can't right?!" he then asked in turmoil, sounding clearly stressed out. Oh if he only knew...In this moment Gracie appeared in the hallway, waving at me. I quickly took a deep breath before mincing nervously towards her. "Wait here." Gracie said with a calming smile, pointing at a corner. The audience was now loud and I could see light falling from on stage into the dimmed hallway. "Well..." I could hear Graham say. „There's only one way to find it out. Please everybody welcome the absolutely gorgeous..." This second Gracie was back, shoving me gently around the corner towards the curtained doorframe. "Watch the step and don't trip. Good luck!" she whispered and I could only quickly thank her before stepping out into the spotlight. The crowd had rose to their feet, as well as Graham and the other guests. Even though the sudden bright light blinded me and prevented me from seeing the crowd in its full number, I could hear how loud it was. There must be many people...Graham rushed towards me in excitement, greeting me how exactly I saw it on the many interviews I had watched on YouTube. "Ooh, ooh it's beautiful to have you!" he said excitedly, smiling bright before embracing me in a hug. Laughing I returned his hug, kissing his cheek softly. „Thank you for having me!" I said loudly, my microphone was now on. I quickly glanced back towards the crowd, seeing now how many faces were watching me. I waved excitedly, a honest smile on my face. The boys were all still standing for me and I quickly turned towards them to greet them. Harry was first in line so I went up to him firstly. The hug was accompanied with loud cheering and I grinned softly. Especially when Harry kept his arms around me a bit longer than I expected him to, but I didn't mind at all. Despite my heels was he taller than me, way broader and smelled exceptionally good. Just as I thought that, I already inwardly scolded myself, even though it was not something unusual to think. I had talked about that with my bestfriend often enough to know that I surely wasn't the only person on earth, to which a good smell was a sign of attractiveness. After maybe five seconds Louis and Zayn started to whistle and Harry let go, his cheeks slightly flushed. Cute, very cute actually. After I hugged Louis, Liam, Zayn and Niall, I froze for a second, not knowing where I should sit. The couch was pretty stuffed already and I had no idea where they wanted me to fit in. But before I could even to start panicking, Zayn and Niall scooted apart and offering me to sit between them. I gave them a thankful smile, trying to sit down as graceful as possible. „So welcome, welcome! How are you feeling?" Graham asked excitedly after everyone had taken their seats again. „Oh I am feeling very well. Was a bit nervous before, but I heard you talking about me so nicely when I was backstage..." I teased, glancing over at Harry, whose face dropped before a smug smirk flit over his lips. The crowd went ballistic at that and Graham chuckled amused. "It's not soundproof then huh." Harry remarked, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. "Nope." I popped the p with a little grin, slowly shaking my head. "Means that your plan on taking her backstage won't quite work now." Louis remarked, a lazy grin on his lips as he leaned back. I laughed out loud like everyone else in the studio. Except Harry of course. He had his face buried in his hands, shaking his head. "Just sod off Louis, sweet Jesus." Graham had his lips pursed, sending him a look. "The right thing to say would've been 'no I wasn't planning on doing anything like that' but you didn't. Does that mean you agree?" Harry just stared at him. "I want to go home, please somebody help." I chuckled amused, scanning the little table for my drink. I had told Graham's manager that I would just like some iced water. When I found it I leaned forwards, at the exact same second as Harry leaned forward to grab his drink. "Look at that...they now act the same. Ladies and Gentlemen we aren't even ten minutes in with our last guest and we already have all this..." Graham struggled to find the correct word, but a smug Louis was quick to help out. "Tension?" he suggested and Graham nodded in agreement. "Exactly, this tension in the studio! Amazing, truly." I felt heat creeping up my cheeks as I shook my head. "Moving on!" I said before taking a big gulp from my water. Everybody chuckled amused and Harry shot me an apologising look. I just shrugged slightly, giving him a warm smile. "Hey, no soul-mate communication here!" Liam exclaimed dramatically and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Alright, let's not ignore your wish, shall we. How about we talk about your new album?" Graham suggested, immediately inserting the cover shoot of my album. "Called Aubade, I hope I pronounced that correctly. It looks amazing however." Graham said and a agreeing murmur went through the room. "Thank you, and yeah you said that right." Graham tilted his head. "What does it actually mean then?" I sat up straighter, placing my hands neatly on my lap. I was really nervous about talking about the album now. "Well an aubade is a love song, sung at dawn. It's like the contrary of a serenade which is a love song sung during evening twilight for example." Graham's face lit up in understanding. "I feel a bit embarrassed that I didn't knew that but oh well. So what is it all about? I mean there aren't only love songs, just a few actually." I nodded slowly. "Right. It's actually...well its also a very melancholic album. There are many very personal songs on it, very sensitive and not always relying on something positive. But I feel like love isn't always positive as well, so that's quite alright." Graham and the boys wordlessly started to clap after my statement. "Very true. Have you got a favourite song for yourself?" Graham asked and I shrugged. "I don't even know...I mean, I love all of them. I think that it very much depends on the mood you are in." Graham nodded. "Question for the boys; have you listened to the album already? And you don't have to lie." He added playfully and I grinned. "I actually really have. Honestly, I think its pretty bloody brilliant if I may say so." Louis spoke up and I gave him a thankful smile. "Thank you dear." Graham rose a warning finger at me. "Ah Miss, don't you start flirting with Louis, Harry might get jealous." Harry scoffed, looking up in fake annoyance. "God's sake can you lay off of it already!" he sighed and I grinned. "I am sorry darling." I added with a teasing smile, which he returned nonchalantly. "No problem. I, by the way also think that the album is brilliant. I think my favourite song on it is 'minutiae'. It's really beautiful." I gave him a surprised smile. "Really? I like that one as well, greatly. Wonderful song to write and warm your voice up." Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah I can see that." Graham watched up amusedly. "For everyone who hasn't listened to the song yet; does one of you want to explain...?" I exchanged a quick look with Harry. "You do it. I am curious on how you interpret it." I then said, seeing Harry nervously shuffling his feet. "I mean if you like...okay. So in my mind, minutiae is a song about paying attention to the little, more hidden details in life. Like for example the tiny specks of colour in everybody's eyes, or those subtle facial expressions that don't last for a second but still are there. Or maybe the melody of somebody's voice, or how they talk when they are excited about something. Or all those nervous habits you might pick up when you watch closely...I am sorry I trailed off." Harry ended, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. But I couldn't help but stare at him in adoration. All the things he had mentioned were so true, never had I ever heard someone talking about a song I wrote, recorded with my voice, and being so passionate about it. "Dear good, look at her, completely in awe." Graham laughed amusedly and I quickly hid my face behind my drink. "That was beautiful, exactly like I would've had explained it." His eyes sparkled happily a blissful smile on his lips. "Oh come on lovebirds!" Zayn suddenly exclaimed before he grabbed my your waist and carefully picked you up. He then placed me gently next to Harry, giving us a fake annoyed look. Niall laughed and nudged Harry's shoulder. „A dream came true...and now hug, will you!" he added with a teasing wink. I grinned, feeling very nervous once again. I then slowly and very, very cautious leaned towards Harry who immediately pulled one Arm around me and pressed me against his chest. I giggled and everyone was awing and applauding. Niall coughed, faking a hurt expression „Now, I feel lost. I love you and your music too" he said as, stretching his arm towards me. „Aw no..." I started and reached out to his hand. But Harry snatched it and didn't let go of it. „Nah. Mine." he snapped. Everyone laughed.

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction imagine #fanfiction #multifandom #I wrote this ages ago sorry if its bad #Niall Horan #zayn mailk #louis tomlinson #liam payne #queue are my sunshine

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captainelsaeverdeen · 4 years

Text

I like me better when I’m with you ~Part 2.

There’s so little Steve in this, but he’ll be in the next parts all. the. time! And yeah, I named the coach after Troy Bolton from HSM. I can totally imagine him as a strict PE teacher if his music career didn't work out... Anyways, hope you guys will like it! Gif not mine.

summary: based on ‘To All The Boys I Loved Before’. Y/N Henderson used to be in love a couple of times. This time she’s sure it’s something bigger, something serious. Her love for Jonathan Byers is unlimited, untamed and endless. At least she thought so. Read Part 1 here.

That kiss.

Steve couldn't concentrate. Why now, after all this time? From what he remembered the last time you guys talked, he was about your brother's age. Your contact was limited to a short "hello" in the hallway and waving at each other in town. Nothing else.

He kissed you because Carol couldn't shut up. He remembered perfectly well how his dad let him sit behind the wheel of his car and little Steve invited to Y/N, Carol and Tommy, his best friends so far. Carol made fun of Y/N all day because she had never been kissed before. There is nothing wrong with that, but little Y/N was so embarrassed that Steve did what he thought was right. He leaned out of the driver's seat and gently kissed the little girl's mouth so that Carol could choke on her chewing gum for once.

Only a year later, Y/N realized that Tommy and Carol were not the people she wanted to deal with. She thought they were egotistical, mean, and idiots enjoying others' failures. And she was right. Steve didn't understand that until now. Too bad he figured it out too late.

“Dude, what's going on? Focus before Billy kicks our ass even more, come on!” His teammate hit him on the shoulder. Steve twisted his head and wiped out all the intrusive thoughts. “Yeah, Steve. Concentrate. We don't want anything to happen to you" Billy said sarcastically. It doesn’t matter why she sent the letter. You can't play with someone's feelings. He wanted to explain it as gently as he could and maybe he did. He didn't find out because Y/N ran away as soon as Jonathan got on the field.

But why she was scared of Jonathan Byers?

“Girl, come on” Robin sighed, leaning her hands on her school locker. You sat down on the floor and pulled your knees up to your chest, holding them with your hands to keep them from shaking. You wanted to cry, scream, vomit, or do it all at once. Steve got a letter. Your letter. It didn't belong to him, it belonged to you. Although it was addressed to him, your thoughts, your feelings were there. He should never have read it. Not to mention Jonathan. “Please, I'm starting to worry. What the hell did he tell you?”

“Robin...” Your voice broke down when you tried to speak. “He... he got a letter”. “What letter?” Your friend pushed herself away from the locker. “From who? What was in it?”

“From me” You said, raising your head a little. The corridor was empty because everyone was in class. Only an angry coach could show up here at any time. You clenched your fingers so tightly on your shirt that your ankles got whacked. “But please promise me you won't laugh”.

“I don't feel like laughing. But I feel like I'm way too sober for this”. “I... you know I'm not good at talking about my feelings. It's much easier for me to write about them. So... so when I really care about someone, I write a letter to that person. I confess my love, I say what I like about that person and how much I care about them... and that's it. I put the envelope on and hide the letter in the room. It's just that... someone sent them. Somebody had to, because Steve and Jonathan got theirs.”

Robin was quiet for a while. She bit her lower lip, started going back and forth around the hallway, removing nail polish until she stopped next to you. “Normally, I'd probably say something funny, but it's not funny at all”. “I think I'm gonna throw up” you said quietly. Robin gathered your hair into a ponytail. “Calm down” she said and sat next to you on the dirty floor. “Just take a deep breath”.

“Take a deep breath? It feels like my insides are being ripped out” you said devastated. “How many letters did you write?” Robin asked. You showed her five fingers. “Do I know the others?”. “One of them goes to school with us. I don't have any contact with the other two” you answered. “I can understand absolutely everything, but... Steve? Stephen Harrington? When was that? Why don't I know anything about it?”.

“So long ago we didn't know each other” you smiled at each other. “In seventh grade. I was friends with him... and with Tommy and Carol. But those two are assholes, and I realized that early on, so I stopped hanging out with them. Steve gave up our friendship for the sake of friendship with Tommy and Carol. We don't talk from now on. But it used to be different”.

“Y/N, you in there?” someone asked, suddenly showing up in the hallway. You knew that voice. You didn't remember exactly from where, but it was definitely familiar, the name of its owner was at the end of your tongue.

“We're in the middle of something” Robin muttered when Stanley from the homecoming who should be in class now stood over you, his sneakers were squealing on the linoleum. He just stood there for a while and stared at you until he started rocking on his feet and waved in front of his face with a blue envelope. Robin whistled loudly.

“So this is the third one” she muttered. Stanley scratched himself in the back of the neck. “Look, I didn't mean to barge in on you. I saw you run in here from the pitch, and I wanted to make sure you're okay, and, uh...” he gave you an envelope. You took it carefully in your hands, and pressed it against your chest. “Thought you might want that back. It seemed a little personal”.

“Yeah, it is” you said, looking away from him and Robin. Your heart was beating in your chest, not wanting to calm down. “I wrote it years ago. It should never have reached you... but it did”. “I had a lot of fun that night too” the boy smiled. Robin raised her eyebrow. “At the homecoming. But... Y/N don't get me wrong, you're great, but... generally, I don't like girls... like at all”.

“Well, well. Generally I don't like boys, like, at all” Robin smiled fiercely. Stanley looked at her surprised, but in this positive sense. “You're gonna get along with each other” you waved the envelope, afraid you'd faint without air. “Here's what we gonna do” Robin turned around, still sitting with her legs crossed and grabbed your hands. “You're gonna go back home and make sure Dustin has nothing to do with it. Search your room carefully, maybe the other two are still there”.

“Even if, those three could ruin my life the most. No offense” you said, and Stan raised his hands. “Dustin certainly didn't do it. That's not possible. He wouldn't have a reason”. “You think so. You never know. Go and call me. I'll cover for you.”

“From Coach Bolton? He'll never forgive you this” Stan grumbled dissatisfied. “Thank you, Stanley. That comment was completely unnecessary” Robin rolled her eyes. Everything seemed to be passing at an accelerated rate. Staying in the dressing room, coming home on a bike, as if time had decided to help you and let you go home as soon as possible. Mom was already inside, just like Dustin. You ran up the stairs so fast that you stepped on Mews' tail and she was furious.

“Y/N! What’s the meaning of this, you didn't see her or what?!” mom was screaming completly outrageous, but you didn't listen to her. You fell into the room, stopped on the bed and took the vinyl off the shelf.

It was empty.

You looked under the bed, under the desk and under the dresser. Shit, you even looked under the carpet and pillows. Nothing. Nothing at all.

“You took anything out of my room?” you asked when you went into Dustin's room. “Why would I?” your brother break away from his homework for a while “I'm not getting excited about your bras”.

“When the last time party was here, or whoever was in my room?” you asked. Dustin didn't answer, so you ripped his math notebook from him. “Yes or no?” “Jesus Christ” Dustin rolled his eyes. “I don't know. I don't control them. I just let Max in. They were messing with Lucas and he poured hot chocolate on her shirt. I said she could take something of yours, so I gave her a little privacy. But she already gave it back. It's in the laundry basket.”

“It's not about the stupid shirt...” you just shut up, left the room and went back to yours. “Hey... Hey! What is it? You don't think she stole something...” your brother's voice was jammed by the sound of the door closing. You slammed it a little too much. You slid slowly to the ground, pushing your back against the wall.

The letters are out. They're out. There's nothing you can do about it. Happiness in misery, Chris's letter was adressed to the bunks at the camp, so at least he'll never know how cute he looked in his swimsuit.

“You got the letter” Dustin knocked slowly into your room, but you didn't say anything. “It's from... from some Ralph. From Florida. Mom says the chicken will be ready soon”.

And he slipped a brown envelope through a gap under the door. Ralph's not Steve, Stan, or Jonathan, so his answer probably wouldn't have caused any emotion, but your heart literally stopped beating when you reached for the letter. But it wasn't an answer. Ralph just sent your letter back. No message, no comment. He just returned something that never belonged to him.

You hid your face in your hands, trying to calm down. Today you managed to escape from Jonathan, which was great, but you can't do it forever, not every day until the end of school. Sooner or later you will have to talk to him. If not with him, you'll have to talk with Nancy. What if he told her? What if she already knows and now she hates you with all her heart?

Dear Jonathan. There are songs you can't listen to without thinking about a particular person. There are movies where the characters experience something so wonderful that you'd like to be in their place. And there are people you just can't fall in love with. I think I found one.

Shut up. Don't think about it. Call Robin. Tell her the situation is looking hopeless and lock yourself in your room for the rest of your life. When you got up to grab the phone, when the tears were squeezing into your eyes because it was all fucking unrealistic, mom screamed from the living room.

"Y/N! Jonathan is waiting for you downstairs! Come say hi!"

Taglist: @krazykatkay456 @mochminnie @ghostineleven @the-almond-dinger @art-flirt

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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detectivedreameater · 4 years

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Gal Pals || Lydia and Marley

TIMING: About a week ago (before The Red Room) PARTIES: @inspirationdivine and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Marley and Lydia meet up for drinks. And while neither leave with what they expected, the evening goes well. For once.

It wasn’t usual for Marley to ask to get drinks before their usual rendezvous. That wasn’t because the company wasn’t good, or that it was just a quick bang and gone, but going out for drinks? If Lydia didn’t know better, there was something to be read into this. What, precisely, Lydia had no idea. The mushroom spores made her headier by the day, more bubbly and enthusiastic and hungry. Hungry for food, for company, for sex, for promises, anything she could get her hands on. She chatted idly with a man at another table about, well, whatever as she waited.

“If the Sox don’t win this upcoming, I’ll eat my shoe. I’m telling you-”

“I’ll hold you to that. Oh, hello darling!” Lydia whipped her head away from him, clearly dismissing him as Marley walked on over. “It’s ever such a pleasure to see you. How are you?”

The strangeness of this evening wasn’t the fact that Lydia was acting off. Marley had remembered one other time Lydia had behaved this way, and it was on their first “date”. The lightness, the joy, the almost carefree attitude. But no, that wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was that Marley had never stopped sleeping with someone and still wanted to be their friend. She just didn’t know if Lydia wanted that, too. Their relationship had been pretty strictly sex, not that either of them didn’t enjoy time with each other. But last time they’d been out, Marley’s abilities had malfunctioned and she’d given Lydia a vicious vision against her will. She’d hurt someone she had come to care about, and the part where Marley felt guilty wasn’t even the worst of it-- it was admitting she cared about someone. That was-- oh, too many names now.

Rubbing her eyes, hidden behind a pair of magic, normal glasses, she pushed into the bar and found Lydia almost right away. She was hard to miss, after all. She smiled at her. “Hello Lydia,” she said back, coming over to her and taking a seat next to her, “I see you got the party started without me. I’m fine. The real question is how are you? Are you healing alright?”

“I’m simply wonderful, and all the better for seeing you again,” Lydia said, running her fingers up Marley’s arm. “I’m…. as healed as one might expect. My wing grew back, my ankle is healed. I’m doing well.” Aside from some long term effects that might not fade. Irritability, clouded judgement, on rare occasions, confusion. In a fae that prided herself on her talent for word play, that stung, still, and it wasn’t like a clouded judgement linked with irritability hadn’t recently resulted in a dead body, or a hurt siren. “But we won’t focus on that now. What have you been up to, detective?” Lydia’s gaze couldn’t help but trace up the long scars on Marley’s face. It had been so long since they’d last met. Too long.

If it weren’t for the fact that Marley knew Lydia was being genuine, she would’ve rolled her eyes at that. “I have that effect sometimes,” she said coyly, giving a half smirk. The man Lydia had been talking to before she got there was grumbling to himself in his drink, and she frowned only for a moment. “I’m glad you’re healing well. I hate being laid up on bed rest, I can’t even imagine you liking it.” When she looked back to Lydia, she could feel her gaze on her face and the lines that marred it started to burn. She turned her face away. “Why don’t we find a more private booth, yeah?” she said, taking Lydia’s hand gently and prodding her away from the public bar and towards the back. “Aside from getting mauled by a bear and stalked by a demon hand, not much. I, uh--” she stopped looked back at Lydia, before continuing on, finding them a secluded booth, “--could really use a nice break, you know?”

“I dislike the lack of control. Someone else made all the decisions for me, whether I lived, whether I died. I hated that part. But, it’s over now, and it does not serve me well to dwell.” Lydia paused as Marley looked away, but nodded, following her beautiful date over to a quieter part of the bar. “My apologies. Stalked by a demon hand? What on earth do you mean?” Lydia asked, pausing even as Marley led them somewhere more private. She couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Yeah, you could, good grief. Well, that is what we’re here for. Not that you don’t deserve more, but maybe tonight can be a start of a good break.” She slid into the secluded booth next to Marley, smiling warmly. “What would that look like for you, do you think? What do you want to have happen in the next while?”

“Yeah,” Marley agreed quietly, “don’t like that.” The vision of Tommy glaring her down, raising his paw, ready to kill her-- deciding whether she lived or died-- flashed in her mind a moment and she blinked it away. Lydia slid into the booth next to her and she felt her cheeks flush, clearing her throat. “It was something called a manumbra. It’s-- kind of a long story, but I thought I’d killed it once already but then it showed back up three times. It’s gone now, though,” she said, waving a waiter over to take her drink order, “hopefully,” she added when he was gone. She glanced over to Lydia, thumbing nervously at her jacket sleeve. “You know, I’m not really sure what that looks like,” she answered finally, “I just know being around you feels...easy.” The waiter brought her drink and she took it gratefully, taking a long sip, letting the alcohol cool her throat. “And as much fun as we have, I sort of uh, am attempting this whole being exclusive thing with someone.” She looked nervously over at her for a moment. “Sorry I didn’t say anything before. I didn’t think you’d actually want to meet up for just drinks.”

A manumbra. Right. Lydia nodded as if she had any idea what that was, but it was clear she didn’t. “I’m so sorry to hear it. How do you know that this time it stuck?” She ordered a top up wine glass from the waiter, just to keep her going. Her eyes lit up at Marley’s compliment, but it felt like there was more, a but hanging at the end of her sentence. “You don’t need to figure it out now, you know.”

A heavy pause lingered in the air as Marley drank, as if there was something on her mind. When she finally spoke, Lydia’s smile fixed on her face. “Ah, I see,” Lydia ducked her chin, looking down at her drink for a second as she readjusted her dress further down her thighs, stung by the momentary rejection and the excited expectations she’d built up for the evening. When she looked up a second later, all of that was dismissed with the wave of her hand. She ought to have seen this coming. “Oh I would have still come, darling, I would have just worn something a little less easy access.” She laughed, gesturing down as her tight dress, which did just have the one set of delicate buttons to unfasten, unlike some of other garments which had more fastenings than Lydia had fingers. “For the record, I don’t love the deceit, but if you’ve found a relationship worth limiting yourself to, all the more power to you. What are they like?”

“Because I saw its dead body this time,” Marley answered plainly, the ire clear in her voice. She was past that part of her life now. The manumbra was as dead as Roland and she needed to move on. She couldn’t afford to keep getting hung up on small things like that. On things she had no control of. She brushed a hand over her eyes, the glasses slipping up a moment to reveal glowing red. “Guess I’m just a textbook work-a-holic. I never know what to do with time off.”

Marley felt a tad guilty as she watched Lydia fuss, readjusting her dress. She looked away, tracing the rim of her glass delicately, chewing on her lower lip. “I’m surprised anyone could actually deceive you, Lydia,” she teased quietly, “but it won’t happen again.” She opened her mouth to say the words, but stopped short when she remembered exactly what Lydia was. The ‘P’ word held too much power here, and Marley knew she couldn’t promise that. She always slipped up. Swallowing, she turned to face Lydia. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind Lydia’s ear. “For the record, I really do enjoy our time together. And it’s odd, I guess,” her brows scrunched, “that I felt so nervous about hurting you. Or that you’d reject the notion of--” the ‘F’ word caught in her throat as well, but she swallowed it down, “--just being friends. I’ve never had this before.” She turned away again, fingers tapping at her glass. She let out a long breath.

“She’s wonderful, though,” Marley said, finally picking up her glass and taking another long sip, “this girl I have. She accepts everything of me. Or, well-- everything I’ve told her of me. Which is...a lot.” She glanced over at Lydia. “And she’s like us. And her eyes are-- the most beautiful things I’ve seen.”

“It happens more often than I like to admit,” Lydia said quietly, trying to joke and not quite succeeding. Oh, she’d been rejected before, but not often enough for it not to sting. She took a long drink of her wine, nearly finishing the glass before looking down at Marley, she leant her head into the gentle touch. It probably wasn’t meant to be as intimate as it came across, but it made Lydia smile all the same. “I understand. I’m happy for you, really. But we wouldn’t have had this regular arrangement had I not liked your company. It’s okay, really.” Lydia curled her body closer to Marley’s but in a more friendly way, like how she might sit closer to Deirdre. “She sounds wonderful. It’s so important that you’re on the same page. I’ve learned from…. Far too much experience that if you aren’t on the same page about everything, that one page will be the one to trip you up. So that is wonderful, Marley, Really.” Her smile grew into a wide grin. “Oh, my god, I’m such a sap for hearing people be so romantic. How did you meet?” All sense of let down was gone, as she sipped at her own wine.

There was something to be said for Lydia’s tone, but Marley let it go for the moment. She felt her body tense only slightly when Lydia curled closer, and it made her realize that these soft, intimate touches had never been something she’d shared platonically. With anyone. Her throat felt dry and the drink made it worse. “It’s not something I’ve ever had before,” she said, furrowing her brow, “I wasn’t...this kind of person.” Lydia’s voice sounded so light, so happy-- for her. Fingers tapped nervously at her glass again. “Romance isn’t really my thing. I just-- I guess almost dying made me realize something, though.” She wondered what thing almost dying would have made her realize had Anita not been in the picture. Would she have fought so hard had she had nothing to fight for? “Oh, uh-- it’s kinda boring. We met online, because I’m an insatiable flirt and I chided her into a second date after the first one went poorly.”

“All muses agree on this one. Love catches even the most foolhardy off guard. Not that this need be love, or even an approximation, but it has caught you off guard nonetheless.” Lydia said, but it sounded like it wasn’t the only thing that had caught Marley off guard, as she curled against her. The wine made her warm and fuzzy as as she raised her hand to sumon the waiter for another refill. “I understand that. When I was attacked recently, it shifted my world perspective. It’s awful to say, but something like this is an incredible silver lining.” Lydia looked Marley’s profile up and down somewhere, smiling at the mundane little tale. “Hey, we all have to start somewhere. Clearly, she saw something she liked just as much. I hope it continues well.”

Love. Marley felt her insides twist at the word, squeezing her chest, her heart. She downed the rest of her drink and tapped the cup for another when the waiter came by. She looked over at Lydia, before glancing away again. “I hope it continues well, too, I just...don’t know if I’m cut out for it, you know?” she waved her hand around limply. “All this is-- strange to me. And I’m worried I’m just going to hurt her,” she mumbled, “like I hurt you.” Like she hurt so many before them, her gaze striking fear into anyone who happened to look in her direction at the wrong time. “My eyes hurt people. I thought I was better than that, but one slip up, you know? It just takes one.”

“I think it isn’t so mucha case of whether you are or aren’t, I think it’s a case of what you do. I have always found love easy, but maintaining a relationship takes effort.” Lydia barely glanced as the waitress replaced their drinks, drinking deeply from her glass immediately. “Well, we can almost certainly say that she likes you more than I do,” Lydia said softly, “and I got over it. We’ve all made our fair share of mistakes. No one is perfectly in control in the time.” She slid her hand along Marley’s arm with a soft smile. “The good ones remember that it was a mistake, and create space for you to heal these things together.” Lydia thought about Morgan and Deirdre, who had no shortage of mistakes between the two of them, yet they both forgave each other, over and over. There was space in each other’s worlds for hurt and the healing thereof. “Didn’t your parents ever lose control?

“Oh, you wound me, Lydia,” Marley teased quietly, “here I thought you liked me the most.” It was, after all, her automatic defense when things like feelings and emotions came up. Swallowing it down, she let out a long breath, her arm feeling warm where Lydia’s hand pressed against it. A soothing motion. Marley had never realized before how much she enjoyed the simple act of being comforted. She put a hand on top of Lydia’s and squeezed. “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?” she half-teased, sipping her alcohol more calmly now. At least until she asked about her parents. Marley paused, stiffening again. The cool glass was still pressed against her lips. She lowered it slowly, setting it down on the coaster. Folded her hands together on the table. “I wouldn’t know,” she said finally, “I never met them.”

Lydia chuckled. “You’ve always had delusions of grandeur, my dear,” she teased right back. “I can’t help that.” Sheturned her hand over in Marley’s, so that she could squeeze it back, her smile softening. For all the delightful hours they’d spent together, this wasn’t anything she’d seen in Marley before. It was a good look, so good that Lydia almost felt a pang of…. Envy (badumtsss). “Talking is kind of our entire thing as a species, one would hope I was good at it,” Lydia replied with a soft smile. Immediately, she felt Marley stiffen up underneath her. “I’m ever so sorry,” Lydia replied softly, and then, before she could help herself, “Do you wish you had?” She flushed, leaning back. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Marley said, finding her words both sudden and natural. It was her immediate response, but she wasn’t sure she meant it. She’d never really talked about her parents before. Why did she feel okay about it now? Perhaps that was just the kind of energy Lydia gave off. That she was safe to talk about this. That somehow Lydia would understand and accept any truth Marley had. “I don’t know if I do. They-- gave me up for a reason, I guess. I don’t know. I think I wish...I wasn’t raised by humans, but I don’t know if I want to know who they were or why they...gave me up.” Because what if she didn’t like the answer? What if they gave her up because they just didn’t want her?

Was it, Lydia wondered immediately. She listened carefully, swirling her wine glass as Marley talked.“No. If there’s anything I’ve learned from this town, it is that being raised with human expectations can be a cruelty on its own, however wonderful they might otherwise be.” Lydia looked to Marley’s hands, tightly clasped in front of her, and put a hand carefully on top of them. “I can only imagine how hard that is.”

Marley gave a hollow chuckle, a grimace on her face. “I didn’t even know what I was until I was 16,” she said, knitting her brows together. Perhaps Lydia, someone so unhuman in her fae ways, was the only one that could really understand the feeling of being judged so humanly. “I was raised by humans who had no idea what I was and they passed me along like a disease,” she said, her voice growing dark, angry. “I think I hated my parents for so long because of that, you know? If they really loved me, why would they leave me with people like that?” She squeezed her glass hard enough to feel it crack, suddenly realizing the space she’d gone into and let go, looking over at Lydia. “Sorry, I--” she didn’t want to hurt her again. “Sorry. It’s...I’ve never talked about this before.” She took her hand again, gentle, so gentle. “I swore to myself I would just forget about them and leave that part of me behind, but now I’m not so sure…”

“It’s okay. You can take your time. Or not. Far be it for me to determine how you should process these things.” Lydia took in a deep breath, smiling ever so warmly. “Family is ever so complicated.” Whatever internal fear Marley felt, Lydia was only catching the superficial hints. It had been a quick swerve, this change from booty call to friends without benefits, but somehow it fit as naturally as everything else. “What do you think would give you what you need? It’s, well, it’s obvious to me they still have a big effect on you, regardless of what you wanted before.”

Marley twiddled her fingers with Lydia’s, trying to let herself relax. Reading too into things wouldn’t do anyone any good. There was the initial pang of anger, like she always felt when people asked about her parents, or tried to tell her how she should feel-- but Lydia was right, and it was always so hard to stay mad at her. Letting out a long breath, Marley composed herself. “I just want to know why,” she finally said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, “what would make them give me up to humans?”

"So find out." Lydia said simply, matching Marley's tone. She leant in, speaking low in soft, deep tones, and wondered ever so briefly what it might have been like to be the one who had caught feelings for her. When she hunted, she shut that part of herself off, unable to stand using the same lines and tones on the people she cared about and the humans she was ensnaring. If they had met at another time, perhaps. Lydia didn’t deal often in what ifs, so let that thought escape the way it had entered, smirking up at the other woman. "Marley, I mean, detective Strider, finding out secrets is your whole job. But only if you want to."

So find out. As if it was just that simple. As if Marley could just pick up a phone and call up her birth parents and ask them why. As if they weren’t either dead or long gone or in a different country. She didn’t know, though, did she? She had no idea who they were or where they were or what they were like. Had she ever wanted to know? Her entire life, was the answer. Even when she’d told herself she didn’t care and didn’t want to, she’d been lying, hadn’t she? She’d always wanted to know. “It is my job, yeah,” she answered quietly, “I always told myself I didn’t want to know, swore them off, but maybe it’s time to think the other way. To...find out who they were.” She had never allowed herself what ifs in her life, because in a situation like hers, they were dangerous. Longing for a family was dangerous. The foster environment didn’t allow for it. But now, she’d been out for so many years, she’d made it through, maybe she could be allowed to pursue those what ifs. “Or, at least, why they gave me up.”

Lydia’s thumb traced idle patterns over the back of Marley’s hands as Marley thought, not urging her to reply. This was quite the turn of the evening, from what she’d first expected, but Lydia didn’t really mind. It was nice to find something deeper under Marley’s surface, especially as she was so familiar with Marley’s surfaces. She listened with a careful smile. “Maybe it is,” she murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind Marley’s ear gently, a glint in her eyes. Maybe it was Marley who made her giddy, or maybe it was the thick spores in the air, but Lydia wanted to see this one through. “So, will you? Go find out?” Lydia prompted, calling the waitress over for another round of drinks.

These gentle, soft touches prodded another what if to dance through Marley’s mind. In another time, could Lydia be the one she could call hers? Could it be someone else sitting here, letting Marley tell them she wanted to be exclusive? She swallowed down the thought. Monogamy wasn’t ever something she’d cared for or thought about, and while it was a struggle, it wasn’t all bad. Knowing someone was only hers was...nice. Even if she did find herself wishing she could share parts of herself with others. “Yeah,” she finally said, smiling over at Lydia, “I will.”

I’ll hold you to that. It was the mushrooms, Lydia decided as she grinned into her wine glass. She was giddy with them, binding everyone and everything. She’d undo it by the end of the season, no harm done. It was just a harmless little thing, and it would help. “Good for you,” Lydia said as she wrapped her arm around Marley’s shoulders. “I realise we’ve only been at it for an hour, but this friendship thing is going quite well, don’t you think?” Lydia teased.

#chatzy #chatzy: lydia #gal pals #lydia #wickedswriting

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stevenismyboy · 4 years

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I like me better when I’m with you ~Part 2.

This fic was posted first on my main blog which is captainelsaeverdeen. I started my own blog only for my imagines and I moved all my work from there to here. Hope you guys would enjoy this! <3

There’s so little Steve in this, but he’ll be in the next parts all. the. time! And yeah, I named the coach after Troy Bolton from HSM. I can totally imagine him as a strict PE teacher if his music career didn’t work out… Anyways, hope you guys will like it! Gif not mine.

That kiss.

Steve couldn’t concentrate. Why now, after all this time? From what he remembered the last time you guys talked, he was about your brother’s age. Your contact was limited to a short “hello” in the hallway and waving at each other in town. Nothing else.

He kissed you because Carol couldn’t shut up. He remembered perfectly well how his dad let him sit behind the wheel of his car and little Steve invited to Y/N, Carol and Tommy, his best friends so far. Carol made fun of Y/N all day because she had never been kissed before. There is nothing wrong with that, but little Y/N was so embarrassed that Steve did what he thought was right. He leaned out of the driver’s seat and gently kissed the little girl’s mouth so that Carol could choke on her chewing gum for once.

Only a year later, Y/N realized that Tommy and Carol were not the people she wanted to deal with. She thought they were egotistical, mean, and idiots enjoying others’ failures. And she was right. Steve didn’t understand that until now. Too bad he figured it out too late.

“Dude, what’s going on? Focus before Billy kicks our ass even more, come on!” His teammate hit him on the shoulder. Steve twisted his head and wiped out all the intrusive thoughts. “Yeah, Steve. Concentrate. We don’t want anything to happen to you" Billy said sarcastically. It doesn’t matter why she sent the letter. You can’t play with someone’s feelings. He wanted to explain it as gently as he could and maybe he did. He didn’t find out because Y/N ran away as soon as Jonathan got on the field.

But why she was scared of Jonathan Byers?

“Girl, come on” Robin sighed, leaning her hands on her school locker. You sat down on the floor and pulled your knees up to your chest, holding them with your hands to keep them from shaking. You wanted to cry, scream, vomit, or do it all at once. Steve got a letter. Your letter. It didn’t belong to him, it belonged to you. Although it was addressed to him, your thoughts, your feelings were there. He should never have read it. Not to mention Jonathan. “Please, I’m starting to worry. What the hell did he tell you?”

“Robin…” Your voice broke down when you tried to speak. “He… he got a letter”. “What letter?” Your friend pushed herself away from the locker. “From who? What was in it?”

“I don’t feel like laughing. But I feel like I’m way too sober for this”. “I… you know I’m not good at talking about my feelings. It’s much easier for me to write about them. So… so when I really care about someone, I write a letter to that person. I confess my love, I say what I like about that person and how much I care about them… and that’s it. I put the envelope on and hide the letter in the room. It’s just that… someone sent them. Somebody had to, because Steve and Jonathan got theirs.”

Robin was quiet for a while. She bit her lower lip, started going back and forth around the hallway, removing nail polish until she stopped next to you. “Normally, I’d probably say something funny, but it’s not funny at all”. “I think I’m gonna throw up” you said quietly. Robin gathered your hair into a ponytail. “Calm down” she said and sat next to you on the dirty floor. “Just take a deep breath”.

“Take a deep breath? It feels like my insides are being ripped out” you said devastated. “How many letters did you write?” Robin asked. You showed her five fingers. “Do I know the others?”. “One of them goes to school with us. I don’t have any contact with the other two” you answered. “I can understand absolutely everything, but… Steve? Stephen Harrington? When was that? Why don’t I know anything about it?”.

“So long ago we didn’t know each other” you smiled at each other. “In seventh grade. I was friends with him… and with Tommy and Carol. But those two are assholes, and I realized that early on, so I stopped hanging out with them. Steve gave up our friendship for the sake of friendship with Tommy and Carol. We don’t talk from now on. But it used to be different”.

“Y/N, you in there?” someone asked, suddenly showing up in the hallway. You knew that voice. You didn’t remember exactly from where, but it was definitely familiar, the name of its owner was at the end of your tongue.

“We’re in the middle of something” Robin muttered when Stanley from the homecoming who should be in class now stood over you, his sneakers were squealing on the linoleum. He just stood there for a while and stared at you until he started rocking on his feet and waved in front of his face with a blue envelope. Robin whistled loudly.

“So this is the third one” she muttered. Stanley scratched himself in the back of the neck. “Look, I didn’t mean to barge in on you. I saw you run in here from the pitch, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay, and, uh…” he gave you an envelope. You took it carefully in your hands, and pressed it against your chest. “Thought you might want that back. It seemed a little personal”.

“Yeah, it is” you said, looking away from him and Robin. Your heart was beating in your chest, not wanting to calm down. “I wrote it years ago. It should never have reached you… but it did”. “I had a lot of fun that night too” the boy smiled. Robin raised her eyebrow. “At the homecoming. But… Y/N don’t get me wrong, you’re great, but… generally, I don’t like girls… like at all”.

“Well, well. Generally I don’t like boys, like, at all” Robin smiled fiercely. Stanley looked at her surprised, but in this positive sense. “You’re gonna get along with each other” you waved the envelope, afraid you’d faint without air. “Here’s what we gonna do” Robin turned around, still sitting with her legs crossed and grabbed your hands. “You’re gonna go back home and make sure Dustin has nothing to do with it. Search your room carefully, maybe the other two are still there”.

“Even if, those three could ruin my life the most. No offense” you said, and Stan raised his hands. “Dustin certainly didn’t do it. That’s not possible. He wouldn’t have a reason”. “You think so. You never know. Go and call me. I’ll cover for you.”

“From Coach Bolton? He’ll never forgive you this” Stan grumbled dissatisfied. “Thank you, Stanley. That comment was completely unnecessary” Robin rolled her eyes. Everything seemed to be passing at an accelerated rate. Staying in the dressing room, coming home on a bike, as if time had decided to help you and let you go home as soon as possible. Mom was already inside, just like Dustin. You ran up the stairs so fast that you stepped on Mews’ tail and she was furious.

“Y/N! What’s the meaning of this, you didn’t see her or what?!” mom was screaming completly outrageous, but you didn’t listen to her. You fell into the room, stopped on the bed and took the vinyl off the shelf.

It was empty.

You looked under the bed, under the desk and under the dresser. Shit, you even looked under the carpet and pillows. Nothing. Nothing at all.

“You took anything out of my room?” you asked when you went into Dustin’s room. “Why would I?” your brother break away from his homework for a while “I’m not getting excited about your bras”.

“When the last time party was here, or whoever was in my room?” you asked. Dustin didn’t answer, so you ripped his math notebook from him. “Yes or no?” “Jesus Christ” Dustin rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t control them. I just let Max in. They were messing with Lucas and he poured hot chocolate on her shirt. I said she could take something of yours, so I gave her a little privacy. But she already gave it back. It’s in the laundry basket.”

“It’s not about the stupid shirt…” you just shut up, left the room and went back to yours. “Hey… Hey! What is it? You don’t think she stole something…” your brother’s voice was jammed by the sound of the door closing. You slammed it a little too much. You slid slowly to the ground, pushing your back against the wall.

The letters are out. They’re out. There’s nothing you can do about it. Happiness in misery, Chris’s letter was adressed to the bunks at the camp, so at least he’ll never know how cute he looked in his swimsuit.

“You got the letter” Dustin knocked slowly into your room, but you didn’t say anything. “It’s from… from some Ralph. From Florida. Mom says the chicken will be ready soon”.

And he slipped a brown envelope through a gap under the door. Ralph’s not Steve, Stan, or Jonathan, so his answer probably wouldn’t have caused any emotion, but your heart literally stopped beating when you reached for the letter. But it wasn’t an answer. Ralph just sent your letter back. No message, no comment. He just returned something that never belonged to him.

You hid your face in your hands, trying to calm down. Today you managed to escape from Jonathan, which was great, but you can’t do it forever, not every day until the end of school. Sooner or later you will have to talk to him. If not with him, you’ll have to talk with Nancy. What if he told her? What if she already knows and now she hates you with all her heart?

Dear Jonathan. There are songs you can’t listen to without thinking about a particular person. There are movies where the characters experience something so wonderful that you’d like to be in their place. And there are people you just can’t fall in love with. I think I found one.

Shut up. Don’t think about it. Call Robin. Tell her the situation is looking hopeless and lock yourself in your room for the rest of your life. When you got up to grab the phone, when the tears were squeezing into your eyes because it was all fucking unrealistic, mom screamed from the living room.

“Y/N! Jonathan is waiting for you downstairs! Come say hi!”

Taglist: @krazykatkay456 @mochminnie @ghostineleven @sydzygy @queen1054

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

Text

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Fifteen | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 4,300

Chapter 15/24

Warnings: Language, PTSD symptoms, lots of angst, Bucky is sad, allusions to horrible war time, self-loathing, etc.

AN: It’s hard to articulate exactly why this chapter was so hard for me to write. My own mental health played a big part in it, but there was something deeper I was forced to work through when confronted with their heavy conversation. Forever shoutout to my relentless cheerleader @lucyyannabel. I’m blessed to have @barnesrogersvstheworld in my life, who put a finger on my doubts and worries of this chapter and gently shooed them away. May we all have an Attie in our life who so ardently tells you how valuable and loved you are. And you are, Reader. I promise. Love you.

Chapter Fourteen

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

“Chevrolet Corporate, Anderson’s desk, how may I help you?” you rattle off into your desk phone’s handset, distracted by the rough draft of a memo your boss had tossed on your desk with little instruction.

“Hey, baby.”

The paper falls from your fingertips. “Buc-? Hi, wh- are you okay?”

You hear a sigh and then, “Sorry to call you at work, I know it could get you in trouble. Wanted to catch you early.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t answered your question. “What can I do for you today, sir?” You phrase the question again, warily eyeing Flannery across the office.

“‘M gonna have to bow out of dinner tonight. I know it’s my second time this week, I’m just absolutely beat, think I may be getting sick. I’m leaving work right now. Wouldn’t be much fun company.”

“Oh,” you deflate in your chair. “We’re sorry to hear that, sir. Is there anything we could do to accommodate you? Perhaps an alteration to the proposed agenda?”

“I don’t think so. Just wanna be home and go to sleep. I’m sorry, I know we haven’t seen each other this week. I’ll make it up to you.”

You keep your voice professional, shoving down your disappointment. “There’s no need for that, sir. I’ll make note of the change in schedule and be in touch at a later date to confirm with your office.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Feel better,” you whisper before setting the receiver down. Something in his tone haunts you the rest of the morning and well into the lunch hour. You don’t hear the break room’s topic of debate as you push your leftovers aimlessly around your pyrex. A bitter taste had settled in your mouth after the unexpected phone call.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Suzy slides into the seat next to you, sounding too casual for your taste.

“Got a lot on my mind.” You chew another mouthful of fruit in contemplation.

“This have to do with your dreamboat?”

“I’m really not in the mood today, Suze.”

“That’s fine. But are you okay?”

Chewing your lip, you turn to her. Her red curls had a little extra bounce but her eyes betrayed her concern for you. “Not really. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s not right with him. I can’t shake the idea that he’s avoiding me.”

“Did anything specific happen? You guys have a fight?”

“No fighting. . . though he acted strangely after our last date.”

“Strange how?”

The yellow and orange leaves beneath your feet had a distinct crunch to them synonymous with the time of year. It had been a standard evening out for the two of you: comfort food from the diner, a shared piece of pie, and a stroll along the streets. Now that the temperature had been dropping slowly, you could nestle closer to each other.

“‘M just saying, you’ve picked the pie the last few times, I’m past due to choose the flavor.”

“But Bucky, you pick blackberry every time, I’m giving us some variety!” you protested.

“Why would you stray from a pie that never fails you? One that never gives up, that truly strives to be its best for us-”

“Are you eating this pie or marrying it?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

Your giggles and his chuckles echoed, the street lamps lighting your way home.

“I don’t know why you’re with me then, sounds like pie is your true-”

A loud pop shattered the peace of the night and Bucky went rigid. Before you knew what was happening a shove knocked the breath out of you and you ended up several steps behind your boyfriend. He’d grabbed a pipe out of a nearby trash can, ready to wield it against anyone.

“Buck, it’s okay.” You reached out to grab his shoulder and he immediately jerked away from you, chest heaving. “Hon, it was just a car back-firing.”

His eyes were wide and terrified, grip tight on the pipe.

“We’re okay, Buck. We’re safe, nothing is going to hurt us.”

“Right. Sorry. That . . . was an overreaction.”

“You alright?” you stepped toward him. “I know you-”

He took a surreptitious step backward. “I’m fine, uh. . . yeah, I’m fine. Oh, and your door’s right here.”

“Bucky, you’re not-”

“I’m good, really. I’ll see you in a few days, right? Hope you sleep well.”

Decidedly distracted, he brushed his lips against your forehead and took off down the street, loosening his tie. Watching him leave kicked up a storm of confusion in your mind.

“And I haven’t seen him since,” you conclude, leaning forward to put your head in your hands.

The gentle hand on your back surprises you but you don’t shy away from the comfort. “It’s gonna be okay, babydoll. We all go through stuff, sounds like his stuff is a little heavy right now.”

“Then why isn’t he asking me to help?”

That’s the question still on your mind when you get home from work that night and make a call to Steve and Bucky’s apartment.

“Sorry ma’am, no one’s answering at the residence,” the operator drones in your ear. “Is there another number you’d like me to call?”

“No, thank you.” You stare at the telephone as if it had personally offended you, eyebrows knit closely together, arms crossed.

Somewhere in the space of the last three weeks you had messed up, done something to send Bucky running for the hills. You wrack your brain for an explanation, an event or conversation that was even the slightest bit terse. Coming up empty you sigh and force yourself to continue about your evening.

One day passes with no word from Bucky.

Another day goes by silently.

At the end of the third day you find yourself staring at the phone again, debating your next move.

A girl was allowed to call her boyfriend, right? Especially after not having seen each other in a while, at least to say hi and catch up on the day - and he said he was sick, surely it was alright, even expected to check on him. You reach for the handset.

Then again, he’d clearly been sending signals that something wasn’t right, perhaps you should just leave it alone. You snatch your hand back to yourself, drawing it up to pick at your lip nervously.

But Steve, on the other hand. . .

Shockingly, the line connects.

“Hullo?”

“Steve? It’s me.”

“Hey,” Steve’s voice warms, “you wanna talk to Buck?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay. What’s going on?”

You twist a finger around the phone cord, digging for the right words. “Is Bucky okay?”

“‘Okay’?” you can practically see his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“I’m not sure why, but he’s been distant over the last few weeks. I don’t know if it’s me or what, but is he safe? Is he okay?”

“He’s, uh. . .” Steve lowers his voice. “He’s been better. Seems to be having a tough time. I thought you knew that, though.”

“No, I haven’t seen him for two weeks.”

“Really?” Clearly as shocked as you were, his tone turns suspicious. “He’s been avoiding me too. In passing he mentioned that his classes have been giving him some trouble, but I figured he’d seek you out with help on that.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me too.”

“Huh. Thanks for letting me know, lemme see what I can do from my end. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thank you, Steve. That makes me feel better.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself, okay?”

With a smile you bid him goodbye and hang up, hoping he could make some headway.

-x-

Bucky hears Steve hang up the phone and hopes to God he’s not in for a well-meaning chit-chat.

But of course, a knock comes on Bucky’s cracked-open door, and he can’t really deny Steve entrance. Turning back to the pile of classwork on his desk, Bucky busies himself with a half-finished essay. His friend perches against the dresser, ankles and arms crossed.

Bucky scratches absentmindedly at some stubble on his cheek before grunting, “Whaddya want, Steve?”

“Your girl just called. Said she hasn’t heard from you. She’s worried.”

“Been busy.”

“That’s bullshit.” The pencil in Bucky’s hand snaps in two and he forces himself to let go of the pieces and keep his hands flexed open. “What happened, Buck?”

The aftermath of the nightmare - the first that had plagued him in several months - comes back to Bucky. He’d woken in a cold sweat, hands shaking violently, head pounding. Banging out of his room he’d sprinted for the bathroom faucet, dousing his face in ice cold water to shock his senses back to him. Light sleeper that he was, Steve was there in seconds. Bucky had snapped at him when asked what was wrong, had told him to leave him be. He should’ve known Steve wouldn’t leave it for long.

With effort, Bucky spits out, “The day we took Fischer down.” Any additional detail would have been Bucky’s undoing; he knew Steve could connect the dots.

The blond brings up a hand to cover his mouth, heaving a deep breath. “Yeah, that one’s given me nightmares too.”

“Does it? You don’t show it.”

“We’ve pretended not to hear each others’ nightmares for a long time, pal, no use continuing that charade.”

Silence stretches between them for several minutes. Bucky stewing, Steve waiting.

“Why was it them and not us, Steve?”

Steve knew ‘them’ wasn’t just the girl at the church, wasn’t attached to a singular person or event - ‘them’ stood for every life lost in the war that had stripped the world bare of too many things to count.

“I wish I could tell you.”

Clearing the emotion from his throat, Bucky’s next question surprises Steve. “How do you not let it eat you up?”

Shaking his head, Steve replies, “Some days it does. You know I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, but I try to talk about it. With you, with Peg, sometimes one of the other guys. If you let it stay in your head, it only grows bigger.”

“I don’t know if I can do that right now.”

“That’s okay. And it doesn’t have to be me you talk to if you don’t want. But do me a favor?”

Bucky finally shifts in his chair to look Steve directly in the eye, lifting a brow as if to ask “And what would that favor be?”

“Don’t shut her out. You know you can’t scare her away. Obviously she wants to be part of your life, so let her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

As messed up as I am, is it fair to her to drag her down with me?

-x-

Bucky was grateful for the quiet apartment - Steve was away on business, his classwork was in a lull, and the day’s work had drained him. All he wanted was to eat and fall into bed. The thought of skipping another meal tempted him as he dreamed of what could possibly be a restful night of sleep.

Soft knocks at the front door startle him away from his bedroom. Slowly, he steps to the door in socked feet. Pressing an eye to the peephole, his heart drops into his stomach and threatens to pound right out of his body. You’re waiting on the other side, fiddling with something in your hands.

You look nervous.

“Bucky?” How could a voice feel like home but also make him dizzy with anxiety? Letting his forehead rest against the door, he realizes how much he’s missed the sound.

He can feel the second rap of knuckles reverberate through his head. Your voice wraps around him again.

Open the door, Barnes. She’s right there. You need her.

Shame whispers, “But does she need you as a burden? Does she need this broken man in her life?”

A voice that sounded like Steve urges him to open the door, to let himself be vulnerable.

The doorknob tenses under his grip.

But he doesn’t move. He can’t.

“I don’t know if you’re even home right now, but uh. . .” he hears you sniffle, prompting his eye to focus again on the peephole. You wipe at your cheek - Bucky convinces himself it couldn’t be because of him. “I got something for ya. You mentioned in one of your letters that writing things down cleared your mind, helped you move past things. And while I don’t really know if you’re going through something or just want to be alone for whatever reason. . . I just hope this helps.”

You stoop down, setting whatever you’d been holding against the door. Straightening, you turn to leave, pause, then face the door again. “I miss you, ya know.”

Hesitant footsteps retreat down the breezeway, your tread easy and familiar in his mind.

Only after counting out a few minutes Bucky cracks the door open. A small packages falls to his feet with a surprisingly solid thud. He nudges the door closed and pulls at the twine, then the brown paper wrapping.

Shaky fingers feel at the strong, yet simple leather cover of a journal. He flips through the unlined pages, mind reeling at your memory of something he couldn’t recall mentioning to you. Forcing air into his lungs he cradles the book as if it were a priceless artifact; maybe for him it was.

Opening to the first page his eyes are immediately drawn to black ink, to your familiar handwriting.

Whether it’s with me or without me, I hope you find peace.

You’d left your initials beneath the note, as if he ever would have questioned whose hand had written the inscription. He lets out a humorless laugh before his knees weaken. Letting himself be taken to the floor, he leans against the door, clutching the journal to his chest.

And on the floor of his empty apartment where he wept the full anguish of his soul, it was a lifeline.

-x-

This was a bad idea. I should go home. This is stupid.

Bucky’s foot taps against the sidewalk outside of your work building impatiently. He’d been there a few minutes already, knowing your schedule like the back of his hand. A deep urge to finally speak with you had brought him this far, though he was fighting the pull to run back home.

Just as he had convinced himself to turn around, you emerge from the front door and he’s frozen in place.

The notion of home floats through his mind as he watches you, hair only slightly rumpled from your day of work. Poised, graceful as ever, a true striking presence on the sidewalk - earning more turned heads than you would ever be aware of.

So focused on making sure your hat was perfectly in place, you don’t notice Bucky until he’s right next to you.

“Hi,” his mind goes blank as he stares into your eyes, wide as dinner plates at his sudden appearance.

“Bucky. . . uh, hi,” you stammer. “Wh-what’re you-”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Y-yeah, absolutely.”

Together, you traverse the deeply familiar path home, though a pace apart.

“How’s the family?” you ask, reaching for an innocuous subject to fill the dead air.

“Uh, good. I’ve missed the last few Sunday dinners, but I assume everything is fine.”

“Oh.”

“Are you - you doing alright?”

“I’m . . . okay. Been a long few weeks.”

He watches the ground as you walk, the click of your heels on pavement bringing sweeter memories to the forefront of his mind. But then the rhythmic sound stops and he looks up, shocked to see your apartment. You’ve turned to face him and his eyes are drawn to how you’re picking at your cuticles.

“Can we sit?” you motion to the brick steps leading up to your door. He nods and you perch on the stairs, closer to each other than you’d been for weeks. “Bucky. . .”

“Yeah?”

“I. . .” you turn your eyes back to your fiddling fingers in your lap. “I just need to know if this,” you gesture between you, “is over so I can not think of you as mine anymore. If it is, I can handle it and move on.”

Bucky’s mouth hangs open, at a loss for words. You take that as a cue to continue.

“But if this isn’t over. . . you don’t have to meet my parents next month, if that freaked you out. Or if I came on too strong when you got back from Pennsylvania, I can back off. Just. . .” your eyes finally move to meet his and the uncertainty in them was foreign to him, “tell me what I did wrong so I don’t do it again?”

His mind reels as he sits back to take a long look at you. You were serious. You genuinely thought this was a result of something you’d done - but why would you think any differently?

You don’t know how not seeing you left an aching hole in his chest. You don’t know how often he thought of you, how many times he’d frozen when the operator had asked who he’d wanted to be connected to only to hang up. You don’t know about the wad of cash in his sock drawer for which he had sparkling ambitions. Without knowing that, what other conclusion were you supposed to draw?

“I’m such an ass,” he mutters aloud, much to your furthered confusion. After dragging hands harshly down his face he threads his fingers in yours. “Sweetheart, this hasn’t been about you, not in the slightest.”

“Then what is it about? If it wasn’t something I did, what happened?” Your grip on his hands almost breaks his heart completely - like you were scared he’d bolt if you let go.

Words stick in his throat and he swallows in an attempt to dislodge the lump that had formed there.

“Buck, it’s me. You can say it.”

“I. . . I don’t even know where I’d start.”

“The beginning?” you gently suggest.

At your urging, he begins haltingly, stumbling over words, hoping he was making some kind of sense. “Uhhh. The night after we spent the day at the garage together. I had a nightmare, a memory of being in Europe. A young woman died - she died because of me. It felt like I was there again. I could feel the cold air and the smell of. . . I relived it that night. The days seemed to get worse after that.”

Details begin to spill from his lips - slowly, then all at once. Things he couldn’t have recalled if asked suddenly were toppling into your lap, unorganized, bloody, and heavy. He recounts the sleepless nights, the images seared in his brain from the battlefront, the components of war rarely shared with civilians that had taken a good portion of his innocence and good conscience.

Pausing, he clears his throat and scratches his chin. “It’s hard to talk about,” he admits in a low voice.

You’ve been silent, but present until this moment. “I know. Thank you for sharing with me.”

“The last few weeks have been a fight between wanting - no, needing - you to bring some light into my life; and living in fear that my darkness may snuff your own light out. I can’t take you down with me, you don’t deserve that.”

“Don’t I get a say in it?”

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he withdraws a hand from yours to dash at them. “I hate this,” he sniffles. “I thought I was getting better, that this was behind me. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what, being human?”

“For being like this when my life has gotten better. I’ve been home for so long, I should be past this by now.”

Your hands are on his cheeks, tilting his head to look into your eyes again. “Says who? Honey, things like this, it’s not a simple trip from point A to point B. This kind of healing takes time. And a backslide isn’t an indicator of failure.”

“Sure feels like I failed at something.”

“But you haven’t,” you insist firmly. He doesn’t respond and you pull your hands away, hesitantly grasping his again. “Why haven’t you been home to see your family?” you ask after a few moments of reflection.

“The girl I . . . that. . . she reminds me of my sisters. It’s hard to look at them and not see her after. . . it happened. I don’t want to attach that memory to them more than it already is.”

Your chest heaves with a long breath as if you were preparing to dive into deep water. “Your time serving, the things you saw. . . they affected you. You have to admit that.”

“It bothers me, sure, but I didn’t come back wounded. I made it in one piece, I don’t have a reason for being this shaken by it.”

“Just because you’re physically safe doesn’t mean your mind didn’t take on injuries. You’ve been through so much-”

Brusquely, he cuts you off. “My mind is fine. I’m not a coward.”

“Bucky, I know that. Everyone knows that. This isn’t about cowardice or weak minds, or whatever nonsense doctors and generals say it is. To survive what you have, to have made so much progress to get to a place where you’re working and taking care of yourself. . . it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. You’ve chosen a career path. You’re almost done with the training while juggling two jobs, family, and a demanding girlfriend.” Both his lips and yours twitch at your teasing. Then you soften again. “You know I’ve seen this up-close with my uncle. You’re not alone and you’re not crazy.”

Bucky’s face must have mirrored the doubt he felt inside.

“You said Steve has episodes too right?” He nods. “Do you think that he has a weak moral character? This man, who you think the world of - do you consider him mentally fragile? No,” you answer for him as he can only shake his head. “Then why would you flip that onto yourself? Why would Steve’s hand-picked second-in-command be considered weak? You wouldn’t because you’re not.”

He couldn’t think of an argument against that - but you took his silence to be dubious.

Your voice is hesitant, unsure. “They do have psychiatric hospitals-”

“I’m not desperate enough for that.” The second the words left his mouth he hears how harsh they sound.

“Do you have to be desperate to ask for help?”

“I shouldn’t need help!” he exclaims suddenly. “Other men came back fine, Dad never went through this. I don’t know how to be this way without feeling like shit about myself. Besides, from the stories I’ve heard, what they do is more similar to torture than treatment.”

You’ve shrunken back, shoulders hunched forward as if to ward off his tone. “Okay. I won’t mention it again. I’m sorry.”

“No,” he huffs in frustration. “I should be the one that’s sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve been to hell and back which would make anyone’s soul weary. Please be kinder to yourself.”

“I don’t deserve your kindness, let alone my own. But for some reason, Sixth Floor, you’re giving it to me in spades. I don’t understand.”

“Caring for someone doesn’t always entail what they deserve - but I assure you, you are absolutely deserving of all the patience and gentleness. You are one of the most noble men I’ve ever known.” If the conviction in your voice hadn’t rung so clear, he’d think you were full of it.

“How can you still say that after how I’ve treated you?” He doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to lose you baby, I just, I lo. . . I love you too much. And the thought of having pushed you away makes me sick, but I won’t blame you for walking away because of how I’ve acted.”

A sad smile crosses your face as you press your forehead to his before whispering fiercely, “Love isn’t a feeling, it’s an action. I love you to the very bottom of my heart, James. Can you let me love you? Let me show you? I want to be here, if you’ll have me.”

With most of his energy channeled containing sobs, he offers a nod. Leaning in to each other, your lips unite for the first time in too long - earnest, sweet love mingled with relief pours between you.

Pulling back only slightly, Bucky’s blue eyes search your own. “I missed you,” he murmurs roughly as his thumb wipes away a tear from your chin.

“I missed you, too,” you return as the pads of your fingers swipe against his wet cheeks.

He lets that settle on his bones for future nights where he may hear whispers of doubt about you and your devotion.

“I wanna get better for you, darling.” He meant it sweet, touching, but you shake your head.

“No.”

He begins to shift away from you, your previous words with the solitary one dissonating, but a hand to the back of his neck holds him fast.

“Don’t get better for me. James Buchanan Barnes is worthy enough to get better for himself.” You interrupt what was obviously going to be a protest from him. “You’re the one that has to live with yourself. I don’t plan on going anywhere, but I also can’t fight this battle for you, as much as I wish I could.”

“I don’t know what getting better for myself even looks like.”

Your eyebrows settle into determination, a directness in your gaze. “Your training is almost done. Quit washing windows, focus on finishing well. Life is about to change for the better. Refocus, take a breather. And let the people in your life love you.”

“I. . . I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask. Except. . .” You bite your lip, as if pondering whether you should continue.

“What?” he prompts.

A twinkle returns to your eye and you lean in even closer, “You could shave the beard before you meet my parents or they’ll think I’m dating a hobo.”

For the first time in weeks, a laugh bubbles up through Bucky and out into the world with joy that was anything but hollow.

Chapter Sixteen

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