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dracosaurusrex · 4 years

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Notebook - Draco Malfoy x reader

Here’s Part 2!

Summary: In which admiration takes the form of notebooks, handwriting, and smiles

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I caved into an attempt to write this after reading so many fanfics haha. That being said, this is my first fic. Tbh, I’m not exactly satisfied, but I hope it brings you joy anyway. Feedback is very much appreciated! Thank you!

Draco Malfoy was known for many things. To the vast majority, it was his menacing behavior, characterized by his high pride and brash comments. You were aware of this. You even witnessed him in action when he and Harry would clash. Did you approve of it? Definitely not. However, you also took notice of small moments where slivers of kindness were shown by the platinum-haired boy, and for a short instance you saw a warm heart behind his notorious reputation. Because of that, you couldn’t help but reserve a soft spot for him in your heart.

With the exception of being paired for several assignments in the classes you shared, you weren’t particularly close to Draco. This, however, didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar. It was a known fact that he was one of the most attractive guys in Hogwarts. Despite his questionable personality, he actually had quite the number of admirers. How could he not? His chiseled features were emphasized by his alluring eyes and a handsome smile to match. You would consider yourself lucky to be present whenever a rare laugh left his lips. It made your heart skip as you catch yourself smiling privately in response.

This was the case for potions today: Crabbe had mixed up several of his ingredients, resulting in the concoction exploding in front of him. No injuries occurred, but the incident drew attention to him as a thick layer of soot covered his shocked expression. After a pause, you turned at the sound of Draco and Blaise releasing a laugh as the rest of the class followed. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud yourself once the situation had registered completely. Your gaze, which was initially focused on Crabbe shifted to the blonde boy behind him. Your eyes locked. He stopped laughing, but his smile remained plastered on his face as he kept his sight focused on you. The class eventually calmed down, but you felt your heart beating rapidly against your chest as the connection lingered on for a few more seconds.

Your good friend, Hermoine, took notice of your dazed expression, and waved her hand in front of your face.

“Y/N! Earth to Y/N! Are you okay? What are you even looking at?” She turned her head so it was directed toward the same angle as yours. You snapped your head forward as you tried to hide the blush that spread across your cheeks.

“It’s nothing! Let’s get back to work, shall we?” You frantically said as you took her shoulders to turn her around. You didn’t want her to know about the feelings you had managed to keep well-hidden.

Your attention went back to completing the potion at hand, hoping that she didn’t catch on to your behavior. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the boy and the slight interaction you both shared.

‘It was nothing. That was insignificant.’

You were constantly reminding yourself to keep your emotions in control, oblivious to the fact that the sound of your own laughter and the sight of your sparkling eyes had tickled Draco’s heart as well.

The scene continued to rewind itself as you tried to carry on with your day. After your classes, you found yourself studying in a secluded part of the library, trying to refine your notes for potions. You could keep up with the class just fine, but it took you more effort to do so in contrast to your other subjects. At least it was interesting and challenging enough to make you enjoy it.

You were 20 minutes into your study and your mind was desperately trying to make sense of the text in front of you. Your senses became overloaded. Your knee bounced up and down, you began to twirl your quill in between your fingers, and your eyebrows furrowed in hopes that it would make your brain do a better job in processing the information. The feeling of frustration soon built up, and to add to that, you couldn’t seem to get Draco out of your head. Controlling your feelings had never been this difficult before.

Throwing the thought of him to the back of your mind proved futile, as you heard a chair screeching beside you.

“Too much tension in your face is going to give you wrinkles, Y/L/N.” Your eyes widened at the familiarity of the voice. When you looked up, you were met with platinum blonde and the scent of mint. Draco was smirking at you.

“Draco. Can I help you?” You spoke out, trying to sound annoyed while you allowed yourself to submerge your face into your hands. The beating in your chest was quickening just as it did in potions. ‘Why is he here?’ you thought to yourself.

He shrugged, “Probably not. Besides, I don’t think I’m the one who needs help.” His eyes scanned your workspace. Pieces of parchment were scattered everywhere, and your book was filled with make-shift tabs along with paragraphs decorated with desperate markings and annotations. It takes you a second to realize what he was talking about as you lifted your head to follow his line of sight.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “If you’re here to pick on me, right now is not the time.” You mentally slapped yourself as the words rolled with harshness out of your mouth. In your defense, you really were trying to make sense of everything. The conflict between your feelings and your studying was not helping you at all. You proceeded to cover your face with your hands again.

Suddenly, a green notebook was plopped on top of your scattered mess. You peeked in between your fingers to examine the object.

“I don’t care whether you use it or not. Just give it back before our next class.” You looked up to see him walk off, stunned that he gave you any attention at all.

Once he disappeared from your sight, you picked the notebook up gingerly, running your fingers across his name, which was debossed on the cover. Draco was also known to be exceptionally intelligent, only falling short of Hermione. This thought made your heart race even more all while the heat began to fill your senses again. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, happy, and intimidated all at the same time. ‘Oh great. I’m swooning again.’

Your features softened as your fingers traced its edges, keeping the thought of the owner in mind. ‘This is his notebook.’ You smiled as you mentally embedded the recent scenes into your memory. With a grateful heart, you began to flip through the pages. You were surprised with the neatness of his penmanship, even more so with how thorough and organized the information was. More relief overtook you as you came to the pages that had the content you were frustrated with. You began comparing the content in your textbook to the notes in front of you, finally making sense of the topic.

“Oh!!” You exclaimed in triumph, happily writing down your newfound understanding into your own notes. The feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment had replaced the frustration you felt earlier as you finished up your studying to head to dinner. As you packed up your belongings, you glanced at the green notebook before picking it up. Suddenly, an image of his focused expression filled your mind as you pictured him writing on the surface of the paper. You envisioned his piercing silver eyes and slightly furrowed brows, accompanied by slightly parted lips. His perfect posture, you pictured, was emphasized by the sleekness of the familiar black suit. His fingers were slender, wrapping themselves delicately around a quill. You silently thanked his mother for giving birth to the work of art that is him. Another blush rushes in and thoughts of Draco started to invade your mind again, but this time you happily granted permission for them to engulf you. With another smile, you placed his notebook in your bag.

Once you were gone, Draco came out from one of the shelves, closing the book he was using to hide his face. He glanced at your retreating figure then turned his gaze back to the table you were sitting at. He took a seat and placed his hand against his chest, feeling himself fall for you more as he recalled the loving expression that was plastered on your face when you caressed the notebook. He couldn’t wait for the next time you had potions.

Part 2

A/N: I originally had 3/4 of the fic written out, but after reading it, I just wasn’t satisfied with the way things were going. I felt that this was a nice stop for now, so that I can think of something more...sufficient for the vibe. Thanks for reading! Once again, feedback is very much appreciated! <3

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #slytherin #slytherin imagines #gryffindor #gryffindor imagines #hogwarts #hogwarts imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

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You Broke Me First (C.H)

Pairing: former FWB!Calum X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Based on the song “You Broke Me First” by Tate McRae. You are trying to forget about the man who broke your heart, so it’s a surprise when his name appears on your phone again.

Warnings: Angst af. Language. Mild Smut. Mentions of Alcohol and cheating. Probably one or two grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 5K

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @thebasicbitch-things ✨ I loved writing this piece, maybe because I love the song so much, so thank you for requesting it and I hope I made it justice 💕. Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated it! You can read my other works HERE. Happy reading! 🦋

@thebasicbitch-things : Can you write a Calum imagine based off the song You Broke me first by Tate McRae?? Like I’m just in a weeping mood. Thank you xxx

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself

But you shoulda told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else

You're drunk at a party or maybe it's just that your car broke down

Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now

The liquid burns your throat, but you don’t really feel it anymore. When the heat starts spreading around the rest of your body is when you know you need another one. And another one. And another one. Anything to keep him from your mind.

It’s ironic how the memory of him still lingers on, even more with every drink you drown. Well, it’s not so ironic as it is shitty. But it’s at times like this, when you’re at a random club in the middle of the night surrounded by strangers trying to create stories of their own while all you want to do is forget, that the only thing your mind can focus on is him.

A year ago:

“Babe?” You heard his voice as he exited the bathroom. Still shirtless and with his boxers on, hanging loosely “Are you okay?”

You sat down on the bed, your naked skin barely covered by the messy sheets “Mhmm” you mumbled, still zooned out in your own thoughts and worries as you saw Calum grab his shirt and jeans from the floor.

It was always the same. He would call or text, you would meet with any excuse, hang out for a while before moving to the bedroom. The same old story of friends who fuck each other, with the same old ending every night: you in your bed watching him get dressed and close the door on his way out.

“Do you really have to leave?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have to”

“No, you don’t have to”

“Y/N…”

You hated that condescending tone. Not only that, but you hated yourself, too. You and this whole messy situation you got yourself into. You didn’t know how bad of an idea it was to accept his proposal of friends with benefits when you already had feelings for him. But who could say no to Calum Hood? Especially with the hopes of becoming something more along the way.

At the beginning it was all you could dream of. The night seemed endless when he hold you close to him, breathing the same air as your bodies collided with each other, creating messes as you explored every inch of skin you had to offer, seeing stars explode with every right touch, hearing each other’s names like prayers coming from your parting lips. It was almost like you couldn’t get enough, almost.

“What? God, Calum, would it kill you to stay the night just once? Would it ruin your reputation of a heartthrob batchellor?”

“What has gotten into you?” He asked in confusion at your sudden outburst “You know the rules of this”

“Oh, the rules. Fuck them”

The rules were simple: Never overstaying, no exclusivity, don’t let others find out, never do anything public… but most importantly: Never fall in love. You had agree to that once, but most certainly broken almost every rule. You’ve fallen in love with him.

“Y/N…”

“It hurts, Calum” You said with glossy eyes “It hurts when you leave, and I- I can’t watch you do that anymore”

Calum’s eyes soften a bit. Debating whether or not he should stay. But after a pleading “Please” from your lips he caved in, laying down on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled, allowing yourself to drift away in dreams and hopes of him laying next to you for the rest of your lives. Little did you know that those dreams were to be crushed next morning when you find an empty bed and a note with a little ‘sorry’ scribbled on it.

That was the first nights of many where he would lay down with you. Sometimes he would stay till morning and share a cup of coffee with you at breakfast. Other times he would disappear as a ghost in the middle of the night, only leaving the marks on your body as proof of his presence. It hurted, but at least you didn’t watch him walk away. You never watched as he did.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name

But now that it's there, I don't really know what to say

You feel your friend’s grasp on your arm as they drag you down to the dance floor. Pulling you away from your own pity party as you watch how they sway to the beat of a song you’ve never heard of, soon joining them with the alcohol in your veins rushing towards your brain and taking control of your every move. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you tell yourself as you let the music take you away, already feeling the effects of the one too many shots you did earlier. But some things are easier said than done.

It’s funny, how after so many months of not seeing each other you can still feel him in your skin. You memorized the way his hands wrapped around your waist and the smell of his cologne. You could still feel his breath on your neck, the burning kisses he used to leave and the whispers that got lost inside a dream. Even now that you are dancing along to an ear shattering beat, the rhythm of your heart still beats and longs for him.

You can feel yourself in the dire need of another drink, desperate to push those memories away and cleanse yourself from his touch once and for all. You don’t care how many nights it would take, how many people or how many hangovers. You are determined to get that boy out of your system, where he won’t hurt you anymore.

“Y/N!” Your friend yells over the music, gesturing towards your hand “Your phone is glowing!”

You bring your phone to your face, trying to focus on the image that’s plastered across the screen. A name pops up, a name you haven’t seen in so long.

Muttering an “Oh fuck” you press ‘decline’ over and over again, until Calum stopped calling.

Seven months ago:

It’s been two weeks since you last heard from him. It’s been two weeks since he left you alone in a fuzz. It’s been two weeks since he slammed the door and he still hasn’t called.

Maybe he was right and you fucked everything up. But you were sure of your words, you know there’s truth to them, so you stan by them. He will soon realize his mistake, he has to. He wouldn’t leave you like that, would he? He must know he hurt you, he must. The words he said… they are like tattoos on your mind, they don’t seem to fade with time. But you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You were as guilty as he was.

For the past two weeks you’ve been glued to your screen, hoping for his name to appear. Taping your screen randomly to see if you’ve gotten a text or a call or a dm or even a fucking email. But nothing ever came.

It wasn’t until you were scrolling down Twitter that you saw it.

It was a paparazzi photo, he was wearing a classic tee and the sweatpants you once told him were your favorite on him. His hair was longer, or at least it seemed like it, his eyes avoiding the cameras as he walked through the busy streets of LA as he normally would. The only difference is the hand that was holding his.

A lump formed in your throat as you opened the tweet to find a thread of even more pictures of him with the mysterious person, grabbing them by the waist and smiling as they came closer. The paparazzi seemed to catch every single intimate moment he was able to show in public, much more than he ever showed you when you were both out and sober, at least. But Calum seemed happy, and that hurt you the most.

A thousand questions ran through your head as you ignored the happy tweets from fans celebrating that his favorite band member finally got a significant other. How long has this been going on? Did he ever tell you about it? You never claim exclusivity, so it could’ve had happen when you were still ‘together’, meaning he choose them. He left you and chose them, replacing you and everything you didn’t get to have without even saying goodbye.

Swallowing the bitterness of the memory with a shot of tequila, you press decline once again and order another drink. What would you say to him anyway? Would you curse him? Would you kiss him? Would he even apologize or pretend that it never happened? The truth is, you don’t even want to know.

You catch some flirty eyes from across the bar, but you ignore them as you try to collect your thoughts on this whole situation, and besides, don’t need another heartbreak at the moment.

“That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he came in” Said the bartender, pouring you another drink.

You lift your gaze towards ’pretty eyes’ over the bar, but he already seemed to have lost interest in you as his eyes scattered all over the room, looking for another person to spend his time with.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You nod toward the other end of the bar.

“What? No, not him. Him!”

They point behind you and you turn around quickly, a pretty bad idea considering how drunk you are at the moment. But wasted or not, you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Calum is standing in the middle of a sea of people, but his eyes are solemnly focusing on you as he raises his phone to his ear, raising his eyebrows as he hears the dial tone. Almost immediately, your phone starts ringing next to you with the all too familiar name popping out again.

Without breaking eye contact, you press decline once again, standing up quickly as you start to walk up to the nearest exit, trying to get away from him as fast as you could. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you told yourself earlier that night, and yet there he was, pushing his way through a drunk crowd to get towards you.

“Y/N!” You hear him call, but you are not stopping. You don’t need this confrontation right now. You don’t want to see him or talk to him. You want to forget him and everything you ever did.

Feeling like your chest is going to explode at any second, you accelerated your pace, not caring how many people you have to push to get to the door as long as he doesn’t find you. Your legs, however, had other plans as they give out due to the mix dizziness and adrenaline you were feeling, just mere meters from the exit. You curse your past self for having so many drinks as you try to get up. But, soon enough, you feel an arm rounding around your waist and pulling you to your feet.

After almost eight months you find yourself reflected in those eyes again. The same eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach everytime he looked your way. You couldn’t help but get drawn into them, remembering that the last time you saw them they replaced the desire with anger, shaking you to your core.

He was saying something, you were sure of it because his mouth is moving “What?!”

“I said, Why aren’t you answering your phone?!” He yelled over the music. Your drunk mind can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him or cry right there on the spot.

“That’s none of your business! Now please let go of me, I want to go home”

You push yourself away from his grasp “Y/N, please I need to ta-“ He interrupted himself as he watched you almost trip over your own feet again, clearly too drunk to stand straight. In a matter of seconds, he was by your side again, this time pulling your arm over his shoulders so you could lay on him “Wha- How many drinks did you have?”

“As many as I needed” You scoffed, trying to pull away, but his grip on your waist was stronger.

“For what?! Drown yourself?”

“I needed to forget you” Calum clenches his jaw, feeling like his heart was shattered into a million pieces “But that’s clearly not working, given that you are here. Would you please let me go?”

“Y/N you are too drunk to function,”

“Am not!”

“Please, let me take you home. I need to talk to you”

“Leave me alone, Calum. I don’t need you and I most definitely don’t want to talk to you”

You turn your face to him. It has been a long time since you last saw him. He has more curls now, and a little five o’clock shadow, but his yes,,, oh, his eyes. The time stops, or at least it feels like it, it was almost like the first time you saw them, magnetic and filled with something you couldn’t decipher, but now they had something different. They were hurting, pleading, almost begging you for something you didn’t quite understand at the moment, but you know you couldn’t say no to those eyes, at least not here and not in your condition.

So after making sure you could stand properly, you caved “Fine”

I know you, you're like this

When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But I ran out of every reason

The car ride was as silent as a tomb. The sounds of the city night and the flashing of streetlights were your only source of distraction. You looked through the window, not wanting to make any eye contact with the man that broke your heart. He, however, was anxious for you to spare a glance towards him. Calum’s fingers taped the steering wheel nervously, he wanted to fill the silence with something, anything. But his words came short as he realized that you weren’t the person he knew, you were a stranger sitting in his car. The clothes you were wearing, the state of drunkenness you were in, the anger behind your eyes and words, and the fact that you couldn’t even stan him touching you… that was not the Y/N he knew.

Once you reached the house, you didn’t even wait for him to turn the car off as you practically jumped out of the seat and went to open the door. Calum quickly following you, half of him afraid that you might hurt yourself, the other half afraid that you would lock him out.

He let out a breath of relief as you let him in. Remembering the last time he was here.

Seven and a half months ago:

It was a normal afternoon for the two of you. Things were going well, Calum started to be more open towards you, spending the night, cuddling and hanging out more without the promise of sleeping together afterwards and you loved it. You were having fun as well, you would walk Duke together or cook dinner or just exist together by watching a movie or listening to his favorite songs that you “absolutely needed to hear” And today was no different as you cuddled with him watching one of Netflix’s crappy teenage movies. Things were going well, or so you thought.

You were straddling him, lips melting together as the movie was long forgotten. His hands were cupping your ass, setting a slow pace with your hips as you grinded on him. You whole body was on fire, ready to burst when his lips made their way down your neck, leaving marks that you would later trace with your fingers as you try to hide them.

“Calum,” You moaned softly as he found your sweet spot under your ear, sucking and biting it like only he knew how. Your hands flew to the back of his head, fingers lost in his hair, tugging it lightly every time he met your hips with a dry thrust.

He groaned, drunk to sounds you were making. He loved the effect he had on you, almost as much as the effect you had on him. It was addictive, dangerous. He knows he shouldn’t play with fire, but what a lovely way to burn it was.

You moaned again when you felt his teeth grazing your jaw, finding their way to your lips again. The rolling of your hips was faster, more desperate than before, the friction was almost unbearable. You needed him with a passion “C-Calum…”

“Tell me what you want, baby” He said with a raspy voice, breathing onto your neck “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you”

You shuddered at his words, getting dizzy with his touch, his soft groans and his eyes filled with lust, looking straight into your soul, burning like the sun.

You grabbed his head by the sides, pulling him closer until your foreheads pressed together “You” you whispered loud enough for him to hear “I want all of you, Calum”

A couple of hours passed and you were still laying on the sofa, cuddled against the naked chest of the bassist. His fingers were caressing your sides as both of your breathings became even, coming out of your highs.

You felt infinite in his arms, safe and wanted. You wanted this to last forever, to have him only for yourself and be his everything. You craved for more intimate looks, for innocent touches while in public, you wanted to show the world how in love you were with this man that has, not only conquered your heart, but also your soul. You loved him, and you hope with your whole heart that he loves you too.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, drawing circles down your arm.

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or not. You knew Calum had always denied himself the possibility of love, stating time and again that he doesn’t really believe in it. But you’ve seen a change in him for the last few months you were together. He was more caring, more attentive, staying longer than he should and being there for you when you needed, not only for a quick fuck anymore. Maybe the chances of him loving you back were not as low as you thought.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” You ventured, lifting your gaze to meet his. He gave you a quizzical look, not really sure of what you were referring to “I do want all of you, Calum”

He smiled “You have me now”

“Yeah,,, but that’s not what I meant”

Taking a brave step, you pushed yourself forward and kissed him. You were done hiding the feelings you’ve been accumulating over the years, ready to let yourself go and drown on him. Only him.

Calum, however, was taken by surprise. Pulling himself from you.

“I thought we agree on not to catch feelings for each other” He said coldly. Already sitting up and looking across the room for his clothes.

You sat and watched as he got up from his spot on the couch and started to dress as fast as he could.

“Cal-“

“We agreed, Y/N. We said no string attached. Goddammit, everything was going so well, but you had to fuck it up, didn’t you?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Shattering you completely from the inside. You tried to collect your thoughts as the tears threatened to come out, but Calum kept going.

“What the hell were you thinking? What were you expecting? Huh?”

“It’s not my fault that I love you” Your voice sounded broken, weak, and you hated that. How could he be so angry? What gave him the right when you were the one who was hurting?

“Well, it’s not mine either! Is it?” Calum said with exasperation, putting on his shirt.

“I thought-“

“What? That I loved you? Y/N, I don’t love anyone! You knew that when we started this!”

“And what am I to you then?!” You matched his tone of voice, tears were already spilling down your face but you didn’t care. You were fuming “What am I, Calum? A friend? A good fuck? Huh? Was I just a toy that you could play with every time you felt needy? Have you ever thought of me as something more?”

Calum’s stare was cold as ice. He was standing in the middle of the living room, clenching his fists to either side of his body until his knuckles became white. You, on the other hand, were sitting on the couch, crying. But your eyes burned with anger as you saw how carelessly he was invalidating your feelings, throwing everything away just because he couldn’t admit his own. A silent war was being fought between the two of you, both of you so scared but with nothing left to lose.

It seemed like ages had passed before Calum spoke again, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door.

“Was there ever something more?”

You kept staring at the nothing he left behind, the last thing you heard was the slamming of your front door, leaving you alone and completely heartbroken.

Calum followed you into the kitchen, completely avoiding the living room where he last saw you, where he left you. He felt weirdly unwelcomed as you poured yourself a glass of water without even offering one to him, maybe he was.

You drink your water slowly, thinking that that will give you time to think on what to say to him. Maybe he would start talking soon, but the only thing he does is stare at you from the other side of the kitchen island. “How did you know where I was?” You asked.

“Your friend’s stories. You may have blocked me from yours, but they haven’t”

Then, silence came over you again. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something, just like you always did. You played this game before, you are not going to cave. You are not going to give him the satisfaction of controlling the situation here.

“I need to talk to you” He finally said, letting his shoulders relax for a bit.

“You keep saying that. But you sure haven’t done a lot of talking”

The tension in the room was so thick that it could easily be cut by a knife. You always wondered what you would say to him, what would you feel the next time you saw him and, right now, you felt like there was nothing more to say. He had no right appearing into your life again, not when you were picking yourself together after he shattered you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“For what, exactly?” The venom in your voice was palpable, Calum knew this was not going to be easy for him “For leaving me here alone and then got yourself another person to play the ‘couple’ part? For practically calling me a whore? Or for giving me shit because of what I felt for you, knowing damn well you felt the same?”

You tilted your head, waiting for his answer, but it seems you left him speechless. Good.

Calum ran his hand through his curls, staring at the floor then back at you “I fucked up”

“That much is true”

“I’m serious, Y/N” He started walking towards you “I’m sorry for everything, you are right. You always are. I just- I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and-“

“And that’s your excuse of why you ran away instead of facing the problem?”

“I was scared! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Calum raised his voice. He was now standing a couple of feet in front of you, so close and yet so far away from you “Y/N, I was so fucking scared. You know that I’ve never had a committed relationship before, that I never let things get too far but with you.. God, I never felt the same with anyone like that before not after you. And then you said all of those things and I- Hearing you say that you love me was too much, I couldn’t process it and instead of saying something coherent I just lashed out on you and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry”

Calum took a step forward, softly grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took your silence as his cue to continue.

“You were always there for me, every time I needed you were there. No questions asked, no judging, not waiting for something in return. Always making me laugh, supporting me and letting me take a break from the messy life I have. You were the best thing in my life and I took you for granted. I hate that it has taken me this long to realize that, but I just miss you, Y/N. I miss us, so much that you can’t imagine how much it hurts. I need you with me, please let’s just go back to where we started. Or we can start over, whatever you want! But, please, baby, please don’t leave me”

And just before you know it, Calum cupped your cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to him, crashing his lips into yours. You responded almost immediately by parting your lips and granting him more access, getting completely lost inside the kiss.

For a moment it felt like the old times, he tastes just like you remember and his touch stills makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. For years you’ve been waiting for this, for him to feel the same about you and love you without any fears or doubts, claiming that he was yours and you were his. You wanted this for so long… but why does it feel so bad?

Gathering all the courage you could manage, you push Calum away from you.

“S-stop!” You said, trembling “Stop, this isn’t right”

He gave you a confused look as he took a step back “Y/N-“

“What about your partner? Calum, did you at least break up with them before you came to find me?” The way he looked at the floor gave you all the answers you needed. You raised your hand to your forehead, suppressing the urge to cry or laugh at his antics “Oh my God”

“I was going to! I swear I just-“ He failed to find an excuse “Things were doing awful between us lately, Y/N. You have to understand, I-“

“What?!” You spat “that you had to make sure I was on board with all of this?! I am not a consolation prize, Calum. I am not a second choice!”

“Baby, I know. I-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Calum took another step back, he has never seen you so angry before.

“How dare you? How. Dare. You, Calum. Coming here after eight months! saying all that shit about how much I mean to you when it’s just bullshit”

“Y/N, it’s not-“

“I’m not fucking finish” You say raising a hand to silence him “Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? I don’t get a single text or call or fucking smoke signal from you for eight months, knowing how I felt about you, and now suddenly you're asking for it back? Saying that you miss all that we had? We had nothing, Calum. We were nothing more than just a fuck around, you said it yourself, didn’t you? There was no ‘us’ for you to miss. You made damn sure of that. You don’t miss me, not really. You miss how I made you feel. How easy it was for me to be there for you every time you called, well, I’m tired of fixing all your problems, I ran out of every reason to do it.

And I was so stupid, you know? For believing just for a second that this could actually mean something when it never meant something to you in the first place! Did you even think about how I would feel about all of this? Of course not! Why would you? After all, I’m just Y/N! The one who always gets stepped on, why should my feelings matter? If I’m always going to be there for you and everything you ask for. Well, fuck that!”

“Y/N..” Calum tried to intervene, but you couldn’t hear him.

“You want to know what I did after you left? I cried myself to sleep for weeks, reliving every moment we had, every word you said just before you left. Waiting by the phone for hours just to see if you’d call. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was the living incarnation of death because I realized I lived just for you. Well, not anymore. You said you were hurting, you have no idea what I went through so, I’m sorry, but I don't really care how bad it hurts. I’m done. We are done”

You walk by him and towards the front door, opening it as an invitation for him to leave. Calum, however, remained standing in your kitchen, staring at you with glossy eyes.

“Baby, please don’t do this” He said with a trembling voice “I don’t know what to do without you I’m- I’m broken”

You were still standing by the door. Unmoving and without an inch of sympathy for the man crying in front of you.

“You broke me first, Calum. But I’m all glued back together now, and I did it by myself. Hope one day you could learn to do that too”

And, for the first time in months, you saw him leave.

398 notes · View notes

junetuesday · 4 years

Text

sweetener - [twelve]

Tastes of Freedom

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU

Word Count: 5913

Warnings: studying, exams, fluff, smut, food mentions

A/N: only a 7 week break between updates this time!! getting better!! maybe?? idk im sorry lmao. as always pls pls let me know what you think i literally live for comments and feedback even if its just a keysmash and some emojis!!

Add yourself to my taglist(s)

Updates: listen i am not in control of this don’t ask me

This is what happens when i’m left unsupervised

Tom laughed under his breath as he read the caption of your Snapchat - a picture of a pile of flashcards on your bed, a cup of tea in your hand in the bottom right corner of the image. He just replied with an eye roll emoji as he tossed his bag into the passenger seat of his car, setting his phone down on top of it before he started to drive home.

He’d gone to the gym in an effort to take his mind off revision, but he’d had to put his phone on airplane mode because he kept stopping to text you and not actually doing anything. Which, normally, he wouldn’t have minded, but he’d driven all the way there so it seemed a bit pointless if he was just going to go in, text while walking on the treadmill, and then go home. And besides, he hadn’t been exercising a lot lately, besides a run or two with Tessa over Christmas, and rugby training would be starting back up again soon so he figured he had better get back to it. Plus, he did actually enjoy it; it made him feel good about himself, stronger, more refreshed - physically and mentally, which was something he definitely needed after all this studying.

So, once he’d actually gotten into it he’d had a good workout, and was feeling pretty good. His first exam on Monday had gone well, and he only had one more to do on Friday morning. You were also halfway through, having sat your first paper that afternoon. You were supposed to be taking the evening off to give your brain a break before your next and final exam on Friday, just giving yourself a rest really. It didn’t seem to be going that well though, judging by the texts you’d been sending wondering if you shouldn’t just go over some flashcards or just read over your notes or just something, and without Tom replying telling you to just chill out you’d apparently decided to go with flashcards. Which was fine, if that was what you wanted to do, but you’d said quite a few times that you were going to take the evening after your first exam off so you didn’t overload your brain, so it seemed to Tom like studying flashcards wasn’t really how you wanted to spend your evening.

The thought played on his mind as he drove off campus, and he wondered if maybe your message was your way of asking for supervision. He could do that - plus, the protein shake he was drinking wasn’t really cutting it in terms of satiating his appetite, so perhaps he could convince you to get a takeaway or something. So, after a quick check in the mirror to see how sweaty he looked - not too bad, considering - he drove to your house instead of his own.

It occurred to him as he was hovering outside to your front door (after spraying himself liberally with the deodorant he kept in his gym bag) that your bedroom was on the top floor, and judging by your Snapchat that’s where you were, so it was unlikely that you would be the one to answer. He debated whether to text you and say he was outside, but it was too late for that now, he’d already knocked, so all he could do was hope that whichever one of your housemates answered would recognise him. If they didn’t, what would he say? He took another big gulp of his protein shake as he waited - just for something to do more than anything - swallowing harshly when the door swung open.

Thankfully, it was Liv who answered - and he knew she would recognise him, seeing as she was always in his house. Not that he talked to her very much, but he saw her often enough when they crossed paths on the way to/from the bathroom. She looked a bit more… frazzled than she normally did though, her hair escaping from a messy bun that had migrated from the top of her head to somewhere near her ear, and an enormous fluffy dressing gown engulfing her entire body.

“Oh hey,” she smiled tiredly, stepping back to let him in. “She’s upstairs.”

“Thanks,” Tom murmured, trying not to hit her with his gym bag as he squeezed past her into the hallway.

Liv just nodded in reply before going back into the living room, and Tom thought he heard her say his name just before the door swung shut behind her. As he made his way up the stairs to your room, his calves beginning to burn by the time he reached the second flight, he wondered why you complained about his house being so cold - yours was just as bad. No wonder you wanted to steal his hoodies.

Tom knocked on your bedroom door once he reached the top floor, pushing it open after you answered with a rather distracted sounding ‘ yeah?’. He was greeted by the pleasant, if a little overwhelming, scent of vanilla coming from the candle burning on your bedside table. Your room was also considerably warmer than it was out on the stairs, he noted as he entered the room, so maybe he took back his previous comment.

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, leaning back against the headboard and looking down at the cards in your hands, not bothering to look up to see who was coming into your room.

“Hey…”

Your head jerked up at the sound of Tom’s voice, your emotions showing plainly on your face - confusion, then recognition, then confusion again. You smiled as you sat up straighter, lowering the cards in your hands onto the bed.

“Hello?” you watched him as he dropped his bag at the foot of your bed and shut the door behind him. “You...what?”

Tom smiled as he sat down on the edge of your bed beside you. You looked very cute, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt with a pair of fluffy socks on your feet, and he would very much like to kiss you. Were you at that stage, he wondered? A hello-kiss stage? When he sat down you had sort of leaned towards him, so he took that as an opening.

“Thought I’d come and supervise you,” he twisted to face you more as he spoke, leaning across your crossed legs.

“Oh,” you smiled against his lips before they met yours softly. “Okay. Hi.”

“Hey,” Tom murmured between kisses, pulling back after the third (or maybe it was the fourth, he wasn’t counting). “How’s your night off going, then?”

You both looked down at the pile of flashcards between you as you sighed.

“It was going okay -” You broke off when Tom looked at you skeptically “- it was! But Liv and Mads started revising in the living room ‘cause they’ve got an exam tomorrow and it was stressing me out so I came up here to try and chill…”

You gestured to the candle on the cabinet and your laptop beside you on the bed, the screen dimmed on the Netflix homescreen, sighing. “...and then, I dunno, I just keep thinking how annoyed I’ll be if like, something comes up and it’s like ‘oh I was gonna look over that but I couldn’t be arsed so I didn’t’, you know?”

He did know, sort of anyway, so he nodded.

“Makes sense.”

“I’ve still got all day tomorrow and Thursday though, so like I want to take tonight to do nothing, but I got bored and…” you trailed off, lifting up a flashcard in lieu of finishing your sentence.

“I see,” Tom nodded. “Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something? Or I can go - sorry I should have asked before coming over-”

“No!” you reached out and put your hand on his knee, stopping him from going anywhere (not that he was really that set on leaving anyway). “No, you’re fine - it’s fine. Stay.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm, yeah. Movie sounds good. Though, actually…”

Tom raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, humming for you to continue.

“Would you mind testing me on some stuff first?”

“Sure - these?”

You nodded when Tom gestured to the cards scattered across the bed, so he gathered them up into a pile while kicking off his trainers.

“You’re not allowed to laugh if I pronounce stuff wrong,” he warned, lying back on the bed and holding the cards above his head.

“I promise.”

You ended up going through pretty much all of your cards - or at least all the ones you had out, Tom wouldn’t have been surprised if you had more stacks elsewhere - and you knew everything on them except for a few tiny little details, so why you were even stressing was beyond him. You were all huffy and frowny about anything you didn’t get, which was cute, reaching out to take the card from him to read it over before asking him to put it to the back of the pile to come back to at the end. After a little while you lay down too, your head resting on his stomach and your feet propped up on your pillows, which meant he could peek under the cards at you when you scrunched up your face while you thought about his questions, staring at the sloping ceiling like it held the answers. It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind for coming over, but it was nice to spend time with you all the same - especially having you lying on him like this. The only trouble was he was getting hungrier and hungrier, and his stomach was not being quiet about it.

“Yep, I think you got it all - sorry,” he groaned, cringing when his tummy rumbled for the third time in the time it took to go through your last two flashcards.

“S’okay,” you looked up at him as you spoke, laughing softly. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, sorry, haven’t eaten yet.”

“Me neither,” you shook your head, yawning as you sat up. “Can’t be arsed making anything though.”

Tom sat up too, propping himself up on his elbows and setting your cards down on the bed.

“Wanna get a takeaway?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes practically shining as you grinned.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes please,” you nodded enthusiastically, until your eyes went wide and you gasped. “Oooh or we could go to McDonalds?”

“Drive through?”

“Obviously.”

Tom considered your proposal for approximately 0.003 seconds before he nodded back, sitting up. “Sounds good to me.”

With that you got up and grabbed a familiar looking hoodie off the back of your chair and pulled it on, shoving your phone and purse into the pocket. You tried to put a pair of trainers on while Tom did the same, but unfortunately they didn’t fit over your fluffy socks, so you were forced to change to a much less cosy pair of regular trainer socks, and less than five minutes later you were in the car on the way to 24 hour McDonalds (after running back up the stairs to blow out your candle).

You talked the whole way there, pausing only to order and pay (Tom tried to pay but you leant over and tapped your card against the reader before he had a chance). You talked while you waited for your order, you talked while you parked up in the almost empty car park (10:30pm on a Tuesday was clearly not their prime time), you talked while you ate - about exams, about your night out plans for Refreshers week next week, about Tessa (Tom’s personal favourite subject), about anything and nothing and everything in between. You talked on the way home (after a second trip through the drive through because Liv texted you while you were eating so you had to get a McFlurry and a Happy Meal for her and Madison), until you were parked up outside your house and Tom had to regretfully decline your invitation to come back in. He wanted to, he really did, but he knew he’d fall asleep and he had work in the morning - he’d managed to get most of his shifts covered to give himself time for exams and hangovers over this week and next, except this one - so he was forced to bid you goodnight after a goodbye kiss (or five or six goodbye kisses) in his car.

The next two days went by in a flurry of cramming and stressing, but before long Friday afternoon rolled around, bringing with it the sweet relief of freedom - for both you and Tom. Exams done and dusted, gone in a matter of hours after weeks of work, the plan going forwards for this: chill, go for a celebratory Nandos, possibly nap (definitely nap), then get ready and go out to the End of Exams party at the SU. Step one (‘Chill’) was well underway - for Tom, at least, who was lounging quite comfortably on your bed while you shoved your revision notes into boxes and files so you never had to look at them again.

“My back is killing me,” you groaned, sitting up straighter in your desk chair and rolling your shoulders back until they clicked. “Might go for a massage as post-exam treat.”

“I could give you a back massage?”

You laughed but didn’t reply, just turned back to what you were doing at your desk.

“No seriously,” Tom continued, looking up from where he was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram on his phone. “If you want - I mean I’m not a professional but I’ll give it a go.”

You laughed again, but spun your chair around to face him this time. “Okay, sure.”

Tom moved to let you sit down on the edge of the bed, setting his phone aside and kneeling behind you once you were settled. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to do, but like he said, he’d give it a go. Sitting back on his heels, he began to rub your shoulders, working your muscles with the pads of his thumbs. You rolled your shoulders back again as he massaged them, cracking your neck to each side with a sigh.

After an indeterminate amount of time - time had a weird habit of going both too fast and too slow when he was touching you, Tom had come to realise - you twisted your arm behind your back, gesturing between your shoulder blades with your hand.

“Can do you like, this bit?”

“Sure,” Tom thought for a moment, paused, then swallowed harshly before continuing. “Probably easier if you uh, lie down and like...takeoffyourbra.”

“Oh you think?” you laughed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Just a suggestion,” Tom shrugged, putting on his most innocent smile.

“Fine.”

You sighed as you rolled your eyes, reaching behind you to unhook the clasp of your bra. Watching you intently as you wiggled out of your bra without taking your top off like some sort of circus performer, Tom shuffled down the bed to give you room to reposition, kneeling beside you once you lay down on your front. His fingers brushed over yours as he helped you push your t shirt up to expose your back.

“Do you have any, like, I dunno-” he began as he ran his hands over your back, stopping when you cut him off.

“Are you about to ask me if I have any massage oils?”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, your cheek pressed to your pillow as you lay with your head to the side. Tom didn’t know quite what to say, feeling his face heat up as the seconds ticked by.

“Uhh…”

“Why would I have massage oil?” you laughed, shaking your head (though your head movements were pretty restricted given your position).

“I dunno…” he shrugged, laughing too when he thought it through, hearing it how you would have heard it and realising it was a pretty bizarre think to ask. What did he think you were, a masseuse?

“I have body lotion on my dresser though?”

“Right, okay, that works.”

Scrambling off the bed, Tom made his way over the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. He scanned over the bottles and tubs sitting on the surface, trying to decipher which one might be most appropriate. After a moment he settled on one in a rather large bottle with a pump dispenser, ‘Smoothie Star Deep Moisture Milk’ printed on the front along with a picture of a milkshake - or perhaps it was a smoothie, given the name of the product. Either way it seemed like it would do the job, and according to the label it had an “irresistible scent” so that was promising.

Definitely not noticing that he could kind of see the outline of your underwear through your leggings now that your top was no longer covering your bum, Tom climbed back onto the bed and set your moisturiser down on your bedside cabinet. He knelt by your side for a moment, before deciding to just go for it and swing one of his legs over yours, careful to support most of his weight as he sat atop your thighs. Reaching over, he pumped a generous amount of ‘body milk’ (which now he thought about it didn’t really sound all that pleasant) into his hand, rubbing his palms together to try and warm it up a little before he touched you.

“Sorry s’cold,” he murmured as he started to rub it into your skin, hearing your breathing hitch slightly.

“S’okay.”

Your voice was a little muffled, your face pressed more firmly into the pillows as your body relaxed, but he heard you well enough. He started to massage the area you’d asked him to do, varying the pressure of his fingers and thumbs as they worked your muscles, sliding smoothly over your skin. You sighed contentedly as he continued his work, moving up to your shoulders, then back down to do between your shoulder blades again, until the majority of the lotion had been absorbed into your skin.

Tom was trying very, very hard to concentrate on what his hands were doing, he really was, but the thing was that your skin was very soft and warm, and the scent of the body lotion really was quite nice. He wasn’t sure if he’d go as far as irresistible but it was sweet and comforting - almonds, oats, and brown sugar, apparently, he saw when he squinted to read the label. In any case the whole experience was quite pleasant, and your thighs were warm and firm underneath him, and then he moved his hands to massage your sides and accidentally-maybe-a-little-bit-on-purpose touched the side of your breast, and he became rather more aware of other, lower parts of his body. Oh no.

His eyes flicked to your face to gauge your reaction - if you didn’t react, or looked uncomfortable, he’d stop and go back to your shoulders. He could only see the side of your face, and your eyes were closed, but he was fairly sure there was a flicker of a smirk on your lips, so he figured he could test the waters a little. You must have known this was a possibility though, surely? Surely it had occurred to you that a backrub might not be 100% innocent? Not that that had been his intention, but still, he was only human.

Tom’s hands moved down to your hips and then inwards, his thumbs working into the small of your back. You hummed appreciatively, which was encouraging, so he shuffled further down your legs as his hands traveled lower and lower until they were on your ass, and he could have sworn you pushed back against him. Tom squeezed your bum, gently at first and then a little firmer, his thumbs tucked under your cheeks. You hummed again, but this time there was definitely something more than just appreciation for a good back rub in there, so he leant down and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, then another to your neck, nudging your bunched up t shirt aside with his chin. He watched your face as you smiled, sighing. You began to shift beneath him, his hands moving to hold your hips loosely as you turned onto your back.

“Better?” he mumbled against your lips before you kissed him, your fingers weaving into his hair as you pulled his face down to yours.

You just hummed into the kiss, so he took that as a yes, and moved one hand up to your breast. Slipping beneath your t shirt, his hand kneaded your breast firmly, feeling your nipple hardening beneath his palm. You whimpered softly into his mouth when he pinched it between his fingertips, his tongue dipping into your mouth as your jaw slackened.

Grinding against you as you kissed, Tom moaned at the sensation of his hardening cock rubbing up against you, even through his clothes. His lips left yours as he moved to kiss down your neck and chest, pushing up the front of your top to expose your body.

He sucked your right nipple into his mouth while his hand continued to play with your other breast, rolling his tongue over it until it was firm between his lips. You whined, and he was very thankful that he managed to open his eyes and look up just in time to see you biting your bottom lip, your eyes fluttering shut. He switched his hand and his mouth then, his fingertip tracing small circles over your damp nipple while he covered the other with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth until you whined again, tugging on his hair.

Scattering kisses across your stomach as he went, Tom continued his way down your body, his hands tugging down the waistband of your leggings and underwear together. Pulling them down, he moved down the bed until he was at the foot of your bed, helping you wiggle out of the tight material with a breathy laugh when it caught on your ankles.

Your leggings finally cast side, Tom knelt between your legs as you spread them open for him. His t shirt soon joined your leggings on the floor before he lay down, his fingertips brushing over your inner thighs as he pressed kisses to your hips. His hands and lips travelled down over your body, his middle finger slipping inside you as he sucked hard on the soft skin at the very top of your thigh. Searching for the spot he found last time, Tom twisted his wrist, curling his finger - and judging by your sharp intake of breath, he found it. Adding a second finger and crooking it at the same angle, he couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that spread across his lips - but with his face buried between your thighs, you wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

Your fingers toying gently with the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck as he worked, Tom took his time; flicking his tongue in firm circles, tracing long lines up and down, sucking and licking your clit while his fingers alternated between slowly pumping in and out of you and curling to stimulate that spot inside your walls. He savoured all your little moans and gasps, the twitching of your thighs, the tightening of your fingers in his hair, until:

“Oh fuck-”

Between your whimpered curse and the tension in your body, Tom knew you were about to come. He moved his hand faster, fucking you with his fingers until your back was arching, your hips jerking up as you squeaked out a moan, your walls clenching around his fingers as you came. He’d learnt by now that when he thinks he should stop he should actually keep going (and then stop), so he kept on moving his tongue in firm circles over your clit even once you stopped grinding against his mouth, your nails digging into the back of his neck as your orgasm continued to shudder through your body. He only slowed his fingers down once you began to relax, your hands leaving his hair as you let out a long, deep breath. Tom tilted his face to the side, kissing your thigh softly as he looked up at you, your eyes just blinking open and your teeth releasing your bottom lip from between their grasp.

Your hands rubbed his shoulders as he moved back up your body, giggling when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he kissed you. His arms bracketed your head as you kissed, supporting his weight over you as he lay between your legs. You cupped his face with one hand, the other trailing down his torso to undo his jeans. Tom sighed in a mixture of pleasure and relief when you pulled his boxers down enough to free his cock, your hand beginning to pump his length. Your thumb brushed over the head with each movement, his sensitive skin tingling beneath your touch. He tilted his head to the side as you moved to kiss his neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark just below his jawline. He had just about been able to stop himself thrusting into your hand up until then, but if you were going to be doing that, or nibbling on his earlobe, or moving your other hand from his cheek down to squeeze his ass, then he could hardly be blamed if he pressed his body closer to yours, your fingers tightening around his cock as he thrust into your hand. Your hand on his bum was pulling him closer to you anyway, so he didn’t have a choice, really.

It wasn’t long you both wanted, needed more, though, so with swollen lips and heavy breaths Tom off you to take his jeans off, pressing one more firm kiss to your lips before he did so. You sat up and took a condom from your bedside cabinet while he discarded his jeans and boxers, passing it to him once he was back kneeling between your thighs. He always felt like he had to fight the urge to say thanks when he took a condom from you, which didn’t really make any sense, like you needed it as much as he did? But anyway, this was not the time to ponder the proper etiquette of receiving condoms - you had one, it was now in situ, so he had more important things to think about.

Tom groaned as he eased into you, kissing your neck as you lay with your head nestled among the pillows, your legs spread open wide. He pushed into you slowly, gradually getting deeper with each thrust in and out until he was about to bottom out inside you. Looking down between your bodies to watch, he pulled out almost completely then pushed all the way back in, feeling your breath hot on his skin when you moaned.

Your fingers threaded through his hair once he was settled over you again, pulling him closer. You kissed his neck as his hips ground against yours, moving to suck just above his collarbone when he began to thrust steadily into you. Your teeth nipped at his skin, your tongue soothing the sting as his cock hit deep inside you with each jerk of his hips.

Squeezing your breast with one hand while the other held your waist, Tom dipped his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He started to kiss your neck, but you all but panted his name in his ear and tugged on his hair, so he ended up kissing your lips instead. All roaming tongues and smacking lips, you kissed messily, you whimpering into his mouth when he shifted the angle of his hips and hit deeper inside you. Your bodies weren’t positioned quite right for him to carry on hitting that angle, though, so he was forced to pull away from your hungry kiss and get to his knees (glancing behind him as he went so he didn’t hit his head on your stupid slanted ceiling).

Your arms fell either side of your head as it dropped back into the pillows, bending your knees to adjust to the new position, his legs slotting into place under your thighs. His hands gripping your waist, pulling you down onto him to meet each thrust of his hips, Tom looked down at you through heavy lids, watching your face, your body. Your mouth hung open slightly as you gasped out quiet ohs and fucks each time he thrust into you, your brow furrowed in pleasure and your breasts bouncing under your t shirt with every jolt of your bodies, your back arched as you gripped the pillow behind your head. Every now and then he reached down, his thumb brushing back and forth over your swollen clit.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your pussy pulsating around his cock as he rubbed your clit.

He was close, he knew, but thankfully he knew that you were too. You bit down on your bottom lip and looked up at him with almost pleading eyes as you lifted your legs higher still, bringing your knees closer to your chest as Tom shifted to lean down into you more. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held your legs up at your sides, one of your hands reaching down between your bodies to replace his, your fingers working your clit. The bed creaked under you as Tom thrust into you hard and fast, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch you come apart beneath him. You released your lip from between your teeth as you came with a heavy moan, your thighs shaking under his palms and your walls clenching around his cock - and that was it, he couldn’t hold out any longer. Eyes squeezing shut, he groaned as he came, slowing down his thrusts to a steady grinding inside you to try and draw out both your highs.

Doing his utmost not to collapse on top of you, Tom shifted to rest his weight on his forearms as he kissed your neck, breathing heavily. You wiggled under him, lowering your legs slowly either side of his hips as you smoothed stray hairs back away from your face.

“What?” he mumbled against your shoulder when he heard you breathe out a laugh. Tiredness tugged at every one of Tom’s muscles, but he mustered up the strength to pull up and out of you, falling down onto his back once you’d shuffled to the side to make space on the bed beside you. “Why’d you laugh?”

“Just thinking- ” you mused, turning your head to look at him. “- interesting type of massage.”

“Yeah, well,” Tom chuckled, shrugging as he sat up. “Special clients only, you know?”

“I feel very privileged,” you smirked at him as he stood up to get rid of the used condom and its long-discarded wrapper.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you just as you were sitting up, pulling your t shirt down over your stomach and looking at the floor around your bed, presumably in search of your underwear.

“What sides are you getting?”

“Huh? Oh,” It took Tom a moment to catch up with the sudden change of subject, slightly preoccupied with cleaning himself up with a tissue at that precise moment. Truth be told, he’d kind of forgotten about your plans to go to Nandos. He was pretty tired anyway, after being up late last night cramming and then up early for his exam this morning which in itself was mentally tiring, and now this exertion of physical energy was more than enough to push him over the edge into nap territory - especially if he was going to go out tonight. But, you had been very excited about it, and he was quite hungry now that he thought about it, so he supposed he would make the effort. And now that he was thinking about it, he came to a decision as to which side dishes to get pretty quickly. “All of them?”

You nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Good choice.”

Tom just about made it through driving to and from Nandos and eating without falling asleep, though driving back was significantly more taxing. On the way up to your room he grumbled internally about the decision to go back to yours - there were just too many stairs between the front door and bed for his liking - though he supposed it did make sense for both of you to get ready at yours. He’d only needed to bring like four things with him, whereas who knew what manner of equipment you’d need to get ready. And, as you were saying as you finally made it to your bedroom, you didn’t even know what you wanted to wear yet.

“What are your options?” Tom stifled a yawn as he took off his jacket, sitting down on your bed and kicking off his shoes.

“Ugh,” you sighed, throwing your own jacket on the back of your chair and opening your wardrobe. “I think these?”

You took out three dresses on hangers, holding each one up for him to see before tossing them onto your bed - or at least, he assumed they were dresses, but who knew, honestly. They all looked nice enough to him, and you always looked good anyway, so he asked what he considered to be the most sensible question:

“Which one is comfiest?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment before replying. “The black one.”

“Wear the black one then.”

You looked from the dresses (?) to Tom, then back again, then nodded.

“Okay,” you said decisively, bundling the clothes up in your arms and dumping them unceremoniously on your desk chair before wiggling out of your leggings. “That was easy, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Tom struggled to hold back another yawn as you closed your blinds, blocking out what remained of the daylight trickling through the window above your desk. Taking off his jeans and kicking them off the end of your bed, he shuffled over as you pulled back the duvet to get into bed beside him. Turning onto his side once he’d joined you under the covers, Tom smiled sleepily as you lay down facing him. He was pretty sure you smiled back, equally sleepily, but he hardly saw it, his eyes already closing without his consent nor permission. He felt like he was about to say something, but he couldn’t remember quite what it was, and he was falling asleep now, quicker than even he expected. Never mind, he resolved, if it’s important it’ll come back to me later - later...later! That was it, he was thinking should probably set an alarm so the two of you didn’t sleep too late and miss predrinks or something disastrous like that.

“What time-”

“Shhhhh!”

Tom opened one eye to see you shaking your head, your eyes closed even as you reached out to blindly press a silencing finger to his lips (well, his nose first, but it was clear you were going for his lips).

“Nap now, words later.”

Okay then, he closed his eyes again, already feeling sleep pulling at his mind and body, nap now it is.

⋘ ELEVEN | THIRTEEN ⋙

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff

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lostparker · 5 years

Text

“i’ve got you.” p.p oneshot

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: when you’ve worked yourself too hard one night the roles reverse and its peter parker taking care of you for once.

warnings: i dont think there are any, this is just fluff

words: 1,685

A/N: i was feeling cute and wanted to write something fluffy and this idea just popped into my head. feedback as always is appreciated. i’m kind of nervous about this one cause i’ve not really done anything like this before.

note - this does NOT contain ffh spoilers

my masterlist

When Peter pulled himself through your window it was way past 1am. Tonight was luckily one of the nights he’d come back from his patrols unscathed and not requiring your help to patch him up. He’d sent you a quick message about an hour earlier to let you know he was okay but was still going to stop by. You hadn’t replied and he was expecting to find you already sound asleep in bed but instead, he found you cross-legged on your bed, textbooks open and spread around you.

Peter took a mental note of how cozy your room looked. Fairy lights hung from the wall above your bed illuminating everything in a soft golden glow. Pictures of you and him were scattered among those of you and your friends, his eyes even landed on one of him in his suit posing stupidly, carefully hidden behind a couple of polaroids. The room always smelt light and airy, partly because you always had your window open for him but also because of the calming scent of the candle you had burning on your bedside table.

You were wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. Your phone lay abandoned on the other side of the room, explaining the unanswered text message. There was a gentle hum of music flowing out through your open laptop which danced through your room and concealed your huffs of frustration at whatever you were reading. It was clearly not making sense to your no doubt sleep-deprived brain. He wondered how long you’d been sitting in your hunched position.

Peter let his eyes wander over you, still with your head in a textbook. He noticed how goosebumps were evident on your thighs but from the looks of the concentration etched into your features the cold wasn’t the only thing you hadn’t noticed. You still hadn’t acknowledged him yet. He didn’t want to scare you, but if he didn’t make his presence known soon he knew it would look really creepy. So, he stepped forward, hoping you’d notice him. When that didn’t work he cleared his throat.

Still… Nothing.

You didn’t look up from your textbook. Too focused on whatever words were clearly not making sense on the page in front of you. Peter took another step forward. He gently touched the hand that was resting on the top of the textbook keeping it open. When you finally noticed Peter, still in his red and blue suit and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t glad to see him. You were happy to have something to focus on that wasn’t the nonsense ramblings of the textbook. You were even happier that something was Peter.

“Peter…” You whispered, not realising how gravely your voice would be from hours of silence. Your head was still fuzzy from trying to retain the information you knew wouldn’t be there in the morning. No matter how much you tried to hold on to it.

“Hey…” he copied your gentle and quiet tone. Sitting carefully beside you so he didn’t crush any paper. “What are you still doing up.” He brushed some hair out of your face, resting his hand gently on your cheek. You nuzzled into its warmth, letting out a shaky breath.

“Um…” Your eyes landed on the clock on the wall over Peter’s shoulder, you hadn’t realised how late it was and because of how hard you’d been studying your brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a good explanation or at least a plausible lie. Peter just sighed. “Let me take care of you? Please.” You wanted to tell him that you were okay but him taking care of you sounded exactly like what you needed right now.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked, moving the textbook out of your hands and onto the floor, shifting slightly as he began clearing the other books off your bed and stacking them in a neat pile next to your bed. You knew you should have protested because you really needed to study but you were exhausted and there was no fight in you.

“No…” You answered honestly. Watching as Peters face twisted in concern. You didn’t want to tell him how you’d lost track of time and had barely even taken a break to go to the bathroom. You knew he’d just worry about you taking care of yourself and he already had so much to worry about. You didn’t want to add to it.

“Okay, let me get you something.” He muttered, not annoyed, just simply wanting to help you. You tried shaking your head, wanting to tell him that you were okay but your stomach grumbled in perfect unison to his offer and that was all the confirmation he needed. You didn't even have the chance to stop him because before you knew it he was up and heading to your door.

“I’ll be right back.” He muttered as he snuck out of your room and headed towards the kitchen. Determined to make you something before he tucked you into bed. He scanned the room, looking for something easy that he could feed you. He settled on cereal. It was a quick and easy option and there was no chance he could burn down the house with that particular choice.

When he got back to your room he saw that you were slumped slightly and resting against your wall. Your eyes were fluttering closed with the heaviness of sleep and Peter wanted to do nothing more than to just snuggle you in his arms and let sleep consume you but he knew you needed to eat something first. When he sat down on the bed, a bowl of cereal in hand it caused you to sit up slightly, blinking harshly in an attempt to banish sleep.

“It’s okay, I got you.” Peter whispered as he gestured for you to open your mouth before he lifted the spoon careful not to spill any on your bed or you. He proceeded to feed you until the bowl was empty and when he set it down on your desk he turned back to you. His face was calm, with nothing but care and adoration to be found in his eyes.

“Want me to help you get ready for bed?” His asked, eyes scanning your face for an answer and when he noticed the little nod of consent he carefully picked you up in his arms bridal style. It caused you to let out a gasp and interlock your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bathroom.

He sat you on the sink and began running a flannel under the lukewarm water before handing it to you so you could wash face. Once he’d helped with that he lifted you off the sink and helped you brush your teeth before picking up your brush from the cabinet and running it through your hair a couple times to remove any knots. The action itself caused you to close your eyes and almost lulled you to sleep.

When he was done you tried insisting that you could walk back to your bed but Peter ignored you and picked you up in his arms again. Which if you were honest you were thankful for you were so tired you doubted if you’d have actually made it to the bed or if you would have just ended up passed out on the floor.

One thing you weren’t sure of was if it was the softness Peter was exhibiting or the utter exhaustion you were feeling but you didn’t at any point even protest him taking care of you. Usually, you didn’t rely on him so heavily and you’d never had him take care of you like this. It was usually the other way around, with you being the one he came to when he needed help. You were proud of being as independent as you were but tonight in Peters' arms as he looked after your every need you couldn’t help but just let go.

He lay you down so gently, leaving enough room for him to slot in beside you and wrap his arms around you. He pulled you into him so your head was resting on his chest and his hands trailed aimless patterns across your back. Your breathing fell into rhythm with his as your limbs intertwined and you could hear the steady beat of his heart in your left ear. You’d never felt safer than when you were in Peters' arms. Tonight was no exception.

“Hey, I love you, you know that?” Peter mumbled into your hair as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I do. You know I love you too.” You murmured as you tiled your head up, your sleepy eyes connecting with his that sparkled in the reflection of the fairy lights.

“I know, I was just making sure you knew.” He whispered as his eyes danced over your features, taking in your dark under eye circles. You hummed something in response but the words were barely audible and Peter wasn’t sure he even heard them.

“I’m never going to stop reminding you.” He chuckled lightly under you. Knowing full well if you’d been more conscious you would have rolled your eyes at how sickly sweet he was being. “I will never not love you, I will never not care for you, I will never not look after you.”

His words were the last thing you heard before you closed your eyes and let exhaustion engulf you, feeling secure knowing that Peter would be there in the morning when you woke up and you could tell him how grateful you were for him taking care of you tonight. When you were awake you would tell him how much you loved him and how much he meant to you. But right now you were snoring lightly. Peter looked down at your face, vowing he’d take care of you whenever you needed him too. Just as you’d done for him on so many occasions.

“I’ve got you.”

permanent taglist -

(please let me know if you no longer want to be on my taglist - or alternatively if you do want to be on it)

@gabriella-superwholock-universe @whatareyouhidingpeter @pepprmintyy

@bloomingyou-th @tomhollandismyspiderman

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

If you ever wanna be in love (I'll come around), Chapter Three (Branjie) - Athena2

Previously: Brooke pretended to be Vanessa’s fake wife Now: Vanessa is Brooke’s fake girlfriend, but they end up spending more time together

A/N: Thank you all so so much for the amazing feedback! It really makes my day and I’m so grateful for you all. I really hope you like this chapter, and I’d love any comments you have! Thank you 1,000 times to Writ for being the most amazing beta!

Vanessa floats into work the week after dinner. She and Brooke really did it. Her friends agreed, and she knows the other workers��and most importantly, Paul–don’t suspect a thing.

For the first time, she actually enjoyed a work function, and she can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with Brooke’s thigh touching hers at the cramped table, or her soft voice hovering by Vanessa’s ear all night. Either way, she should be spared from work events for a while. After Brooke’s mom’s party, their work is done.

But if Brooke is with her, maybe another dinner wouldn’t be so bad.

—

“Ready for thrifting tomorrow?” Vanessa asks A’keria first thing Friday morning, waiting for her groan. A’keria and Silky didn’t enjoy thrifting like she did, usually ended up stamping their feet by the door waiting for Vanessa to hurry up, but it’s always more fun to go with them than alone, modeling ridiculous outfits and comparing each other to ugly animal figurines.

“Me and Silk have the Saturday shift tomorrow, remember?”

“Oh. I forgot.”

A’keria must know she’s upset, because her expression softens. “We’ll go next week, okay?”

“Yeah. Maybe I won’t go tomorrow. It’s more fun with a group.”

“If you wanna go with someone, you could ask Brooke,” A’keria says, nonchalant even though just the mention of Brooke’s name makes Vanessa’s heart speed up.

“You want me to ask Brooke?” Vanessa prays A’keria doesn’t notice the red creeping into her cheeks.

“That’s what I said. I just think it makes sense, since she’s your fake wife and all. I know you had a good time with her at dinner.”

Vanessa shushes her, even if it’s just them in the children’s room. Asking Brooke makes sense, Vanessa admits, but she doesn’t know what the rules are, what their situation is. Sure, they had texted about Gilmore Girls and Vanessa is posing as Brooke’s girlfriend next weekend, but does that mean shopping is on the table? Does fake dating make them automatic friends, or are they still just acquaintances who smile awkwardly at each other at Nina’s parties?

Vanessa types a text to Brooke all in one go, heart pounding, and presses send before she can chicken out. The children’s room has its own office, and Vanessa makes several excuses to run inside and check her phone all morning, but there’s no reply. Brooke is probably working, she figures, and the thought of Brooke teaching kids or inspecting fossils makes her smile.

Just after her ladybug rock-painting activity, her phone lights up with a reply.

Brooke Lynn Hytes: Thrifting sounds fun. I can drive if you want.

Vanessa scrambles to reply, and just like that, she’s spending Saturday with Brooke.

—

Vanessa climbs in the passenger seat, and Brooke meets Vanessa’s sunny smile with one of her own.

Yesterday, she had just finished a planning meeting for the T-Rex exhibit opening when she saw a text from Vanessa inviting her to go thrifting if she wasn’t busy, and Brooke’s heart nearly stopped, discussions on layout and invitations flying out of her brain.

Sure, she was going to spend Saturday working on her speech for the opening, but she has weeks for that, and Nina’s been on her to take a break and not work so hard. Brooke knows she’s right; she’s almost molded to her desk chair at this point, in her office until the sun sets some nights, before continuing on her kitchen table in between bites of salad. A day with no work couldn’t hurt, and that fluttery feeling in her chest when she thinks of seeing Vanessa again isn’t bad either.

Vanessa grins as she settles in her seat. She’s wearing a huge black tie-dye Led Zeppelin shirt, and she sure can pull it off.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Vanessa says.

“Of course.” Brooke can tell from her excitement that thrifting must be something she loves, and her heart warms at the joy bursting from Vanessa. “You really like thrifting, huh?”

Vanessa blushes. “Yeah. It’s just fun. There’s so much cool stuff in there, and you never know what you’re gonna get.” She pauses, takes a breath. “Oh! There’s an ice cream place nearby, if you want to get some after.”

“Oh, sure. I love ice cream.” Brooke says, cheeks burning. As much as she loves ice cream, there’s the uncertainty of time with Vanessa, how they should interact. Most of dinner had been answering questions, a certain order to it all. What will they talk about without that structure? She’ll probably be so boring Vanessa will regret this whole day.

“Me too! It’ll be fun.” Vanessa’s confident and calm, like she senses Brooke’s nerves and wants to soothe them without making her uncomfortable, and Brooke is grateful. She takes a breath and lets Vanessa’s voice calm her.

The thrift shop looms in front of them, and Vanessa is bouncing like a little kid, out of her seat before the car stops and practically running to the door. They walk inside and Brooke gasps at the stuff covering every surface, a treasure chest come to life.

There’s shelves packed with dishes, vases, teacups, books, candles, and random trinkets. Posters and pictures spread along the walls like vines, with clothes racks and tables of more stuff forming a maze through the store.

“Isn’t this awesome, Brooke?” Vanessa looks up at her, eyes sparkling. She suddenly realizes just how tiny Vanessa is in flat sandals instead of heels like at dinner, and her stomach lurches.

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees. She follows Vanessa as she confidently heads straight for the books. There’s such power in Vanessa’s walk, and Brooke can’t stop watching her. She likes how wide Vanessa smiles when she finds something good, how she parades over to Brooke with a hat shaped like a pizza slice perched on her head and polka dot scarf around her neck, even how she insists on buying an ugly little pig figurine because she “felt bad for it.”

It’s not until Vanessa is checking out that Brooke realizes she was so busy watching Vanessa, she never looked at anything for herself.

—

The ice cream place is a tiny box with a large ice cream cone on the roof, and Brooke stares up at it as she and Vanessa sit at an umbrella-shaded picnic table in the back. Rainbow sprinkles scatter as they eat, Brooke with a waffle cone of strawberry cheesecake swirl while Vanessa makes her way through cookies and cream. They eat in silence, Brooke trying to think of something to say. In her experience, dinosaurs are boring to almost everyone over the age of eleven, so she needs something else to talk about. But what?

“It’s so weird eating ice cream during the day,” Brooke settles on. “My mom always made us have dinner first.” She flushes sunburn red, but Vanessa nods.

“It’s one of the only good things about being an adult,” Vanessa agrees. “We have bills and shit, but we can eat ice cream whenever we want.”

Brooke snorts and crunches on her cone. “So, um, how’s the library?”

Vanessa lets out a bark of laughter. “Sorry, it’s just—summer is wild in the children’s room.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Yesterday this lady showed up and I think she was a library card dealer. You know how magicians pull the scarf out of a hat? That was her with library cards, just pulling ‘em outta nowhere. The woman had six cards, all with different names! I don’t know how she got them all.”

“Maybe she goes around collecting them,” Brooke suggests, joining Vanessa in her laughs.

“She wouldn’t be the first,” Vanessa mutters, and Brooke wonders what goes on in that library.

“How long have you worked there?”

“Seven years,” Vanessa answers. “I never planned it, it just happened. I went to college for English, and the job opened right after I graduated. I usually did some awful retail job in the summer, so I applied as another option, and I’ve been there ever since. Never really thought of doing anything else.” She shrugs. “It gets wild, but I love it. There’s some kids who came in the first time when they were four or five, and I made their first cards, and they still come in and talk to me about school and stuff. It’s just nice, y’know?”

There’s real warmth and love in her eyes as she talks, and Brooke can picture her helping kids cut out a craft, or scanning shelves to find the perfect book just for them, and those early feelings she had of wanting to be closer to Vanessa swell like a balloon, eager to learn more about her.

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees. “It sounds like you’re really happy there.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa finishes her cone and leans in, stealing Brooke’s breath. “So. Dino girl. You ever dig up fossils?”

Brooke nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been on two digs in Montana. One was for an internship in grad school and one was after I became head of the museum department here. We didn’t find anything big, but we did get some triceratops fragments and baby hadrosaur bones.”

They had been some of the best weeks of her life. Not even the blinding sun or hours of back-aching digging that sent dust up her nose were enough to crush the thrill of brushing dirt aside to see what lay underneath, her pride and excitement in doing what she had dreamed of since she was a child clutching her dinosaur toys, twisting her mouth to say their names.

“That’s really cool,” Vanessa says, and Brooke doesn’t think she’s faking it. “Wait, did you dress like Indiana Jones? Tell me you at least wore the hat!”

“Indiana Jones is an archaeologist, first of all, and my hat had a much wider brim—“

“So that’s a yes.” Vanessa’s lips turn up into an adorable smirk.

“Yes.”

Vanessa squeals. “I want pictures!”

“Later,” Brooke promises.

Vanessa smiles, and Brooke smiles back, and she doesn’t want the day to end.

—

A’keria has a date that night, so Vanessa has the couch to herself and stretches her legs out on the newfound space. Her legs barely fill two cushions, admittedly, but still. She’s mindlessly flicking through channels when her phone buzzes. It’s from Brooke, just two words: As promised.

Vanessa opens the text in confusion, only to screech at the image on her screen: Brooke standing in the dirt with mountains behind her, in hiking boots and khaki pants, sleeves of her dust-streaked white shirt rolled up to reveal hands and forearms smeared with dirt. And on her head is a light brown hat, closer to that guy from Jurassic Park than Indiana Jones.

She zooms in and sees Brooke’s smile, so wide it takes over her whole face. She looks as happy and proud as Vanessa has ever seen anyone look, and her heart floods with warmth for Brooke, doing something she loves so much.

Vanessa: Nice hat. All you need is a whip to complete the look.

Vanessa: Btw, Jurassic Park is on the sci-fi channel.

Brooke: Bold of you to assume I’m not already watching it.

Vanessa laughs out loud.

Vanessa: Nerd.

Brooke: It’s so good! The special effects still hold up.

Vanessa: Nerd.

Brooke: Bookworm.

Vanessa snorts again. Obviously Brooke must have seen how fast she snatched up a new YA romance at the thrift store.

Vanessa: Dino Girl.

Vanessa: Enjoy your movie.

Vanessa turns to the sci-fi channel, watching the characters meet those long-neck dinos–she’ll have to ask Brooke their name–for the first time. Vanessa’s brother played the VHS tape until it wore out, and she spent years when she was little thinking a dinosaur would appear in their kitchen and pull her apart with its teeth. She hasn’t watched it in a while and she settles in, relishing the feeling of watching the movie with Brooke, like they’re occupying the same space and sharing the same experience even in separate apartments.

And maybe she pretends Brooke is there with her.

—

The week goes by, and Vanessa begins to sweat over dinner with Brooke’s family. You’re not really dating, it doesn’t matter, Silky assures her, but it doesn’t work. Meeting a girlfriend’s family has always taken her smooth confidence and stomped on it, making her cower under stares and decide which parts of her to show and which to hide. She’s never able to be herself, the whole thing like a formal job interview where the smallest stumble could ruin her.

Vanessa knows all too well how judgy people can be, and though Brooke is kind, there’s no telling what her family’s like. Vanessa wonders if tiny things like Brooke’s punctuality and neatness hint at strict parents.

Vanessa wants to be as good as Brooke was, to win her Oscar for the role of fake girlfriend like Brooke did for fake wife. She wants to show Brooke’s family just how smart and funny and charming she is, show them she’s perfect for Brooke even if it’s not a real relationship. And she really, really wants to spend more time with Brooke.

They’ve been texting more and more, Vanessa unleashing triple- and sometimes quadruple-texts, which she only does with friends. They’ve talked about their pets and demanded pictures, Vanessa melting like butter at Brooke’s two cats curled up sleeping together and insisting she has to meet them someday. She leaps every time her phone buzzes, eager for these glimpses into Brooke’s life, even just pieces of her workday. But she still wants more, wants to hear Brooke’s laugh and see her smile, and she asks Brooke for coffee the day before her run as fake girlfriend.

“Should I bring anything?” Vanessa asks as soon as they sit down with their coffees.

“Just you. Seriously,” Brooke insists as Vanessa starts protesting. “My mom never wants anything, so my sister and I just get her knitting stuff and dinner gift cards. If you bring anything, she’ll ask me why I didn’t tell you not to bring anything.” She rolls her eyes and Vanessa laughs.

“No presents, got it. What should I wear?”

Brooke shrugs. “You can wear anything. It’s nothing fancy.”

“I know, and I know we’re not really dating, I just…I don’t want them to think I’m not good enough for you.”

Vanessa cringes at the memory of visiting her last girlfriend’s parents, the night woven of harsh stares and rude comments, the girl’s family looking down on Vanessa for everything from her bright floral dress to her library job. Vanessa cried on the way home and ended things a day later. She doesn’t want to assume the same of Brooke’s parents, but she also doesn’t want to spend another night hiding in the bathroom, staring at her hair, her face, her clothes, wondering what part of her wasn’t enough.

Brooke’s eyes are kind as they meet hers. “They’d never think that, I promise,” Brooke says softly. She pauses, then adds, “And neither would I.”

She’s so sincere it gives Vanessa a lump in her throat, knowing that Brooke would never think less of her.

Vanessa nods shakily. “Okay. Maybe I’ll do a sundress,” she says, trying to brush off how touched she is.

“You look good in everything,” Brooke says, staring into her coffee.

“You too,” Vanessa says, equally avoiding eye contact. Then she smirks. “Even that safari hat.”

“I should’ve never shown you that picture,” Brooke groans, smiling too much to be mad.

They finish their coffees, and Vanessa can’t wait until tomorrow.

—

Brooke’s parents live half an hour away, and Vanessa spends the morning whipping up the perfect playlist.

Playlists are special to her, back from when her brother taught her to make CD mixes of her and her friends’ favorite songs. She’s moved beyond burning CD’s, but playlists are still special, an act of love for whoever she makes it for—hunting for perfect songs, reading lyrics and seeing how they fit, making each song count. A way of saying I know you with songs instead of words.

With Brooke, it’s a challenge of sorts, one she wants to succeed at. She wants to pick perfect songs they’ll both like, filling the car with a movie-worthy soundtrack and laughs and heartfelt confessions. A playlist with songs they’ll hear in a grocery store sometime and instantly be snapped back to this day.

She spends so long on the playlist that she has to rush getting ready, brave enough to wear her bright pink dress and matching lipstick. She runs to Brooke’s car and is so distracted by the amount of soft-skinned legs Brooke’s shorts show off that it takes three tries to buckle her seatbelt.

“You look really good in pink,” Brooke says.

Vanessa turns the shade of her dress. “Thanks.”

Brooke heads down the street, reaching for the radio, but Vanessa swats her hand away. “Ah-ah-ah! I made a playlist.”

Brooke’s eyes light up as Vanessa gets the AUX cord going, and she hums approvingly as Rihanna blasts through the speakers. They ride in silence, swaying along to the beat as they leave the city and buildings are replaced with open fields.

“So, um, we don’t have to do anything special relationship-wise,” Brooke begins. “My parents won’t know we’re faking. They’re not exactly…observant. I mean, I had a crush on Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer for years and they had no idea.”

Vanessa snorts. “Yeah, you seem like a Willow girl. I always liked Buffy the best. Got a thing for blondes, I guess.” She realizes what she’s just said and almost slams her head into the window. She needs another topic to gloss it over…

“So they’re okay with you being a lesbian?” she blurts, cringing harder at her damn mouth. Maybe she should just jump out of the car. “Shit, sorry, you don’t have to–”

“It’s okay.” Brooke sighs. “Yeah, they’re okay with it. I didn’t tell them until I was 20. They always want us to be happy, but they kind of…take a while with stuff they don’t expect?” Brooke opens her mouth and closes it, like she’s trying to find the right words. “They weren’t thrilled about me playing with dinosaurs when I was little because ‘dinosaurs are for boys’. They tried to get me to play with other stuff and I cried. Then they realized how happy I was with dinosaurs and let it go. It was kind of the same when I came out. They were quiet, then my mom cried and said if I was happy, she was happy.”

Vanessa resists the urge to grab Brooke’s hand and soothe those feelings between her words, to calm tiny-Brooke’s fears that she wouldn’t get to play with her favorite toys and older-Brooke’s worries that her parents wouldn’t accept her.

“I’m glad they’re okay with it,” she says instead. “And I’m glad you’re okay,” she adds, hoping Brooke knows Vanessa means it, understands that she would’ve comforted her if she had the chance.

“Yeah.” Brooke pauses. “What about your family? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Vanessa shrugs. “It wasn’t really a big thing. I was 14, me and my mom were in the car and I kinda shouted I like girls at her. She said she knew and it didn’t change things. My dad isn’t really emotional, so he just kinda shrugged and went on with it. He’s good though. My brother too.”

“I’m happy it was okay for you,” Brooke says, soft and genuine.

The playlist transitions into Lorde, and they talk about work for the rest of the drive, pulling into a cheery yellow house before Vanessa knows it. Brooke opens her door and two screaming kids run down the driveway, tackling her legs.

“My sister’s kids,” Brooke explains before hugging them. “This is Sam,”–she nods to a tiny blond boy—“and Sophie”–she nudges the pig-tailed girl.

“You’re Aunt Brookie’s girlfriend,” Sophie says, flashing a gap-toothed grin.

It throws Vanessa, hearing it like that, even from a six-year-old. For just a second, the thrill of the word pools in her stomach, the way it always did when she was called someone’s girlfriend, and she forgets that things aren’t real, that she and Brooke aren’t really in love.

“I am,” she says, and it doesn’t feel like lying. “I’m Vanessa.”

“Let’s go inside.” Brooke sets the kids down and they tear inside.

Brooke turns to Vanessa, apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I haven’t brought anyone to a family thing in a while. My mom, she’s…she’s worried about me being alone since I was a kid. Everyone wants me to date again, even the kids ask. I’ve tried, but no one clicks.”

Vanessa shakes her head, daring to stroke Brooke’s arm just once, to soothe her. “My mom’s the same, don’t worry. And my brother’s kids would’ve done the same thing. Except those demons would’ve knocked you over.”

Brooke giggles, and it gives Vanessa a little rush, knowing she calmed Brooke. Brooke leads Vanessa into a cozy kitchen of people obviously trying to act natural despite their excitement.

“You must be Vanessa,” a woman she assumes is Brooke’s mom says.

“That’s me,” Vanessa answers, and she’s pulled into hugs by Brooke’s parents. It’s funny–Vanessa can’t see much of Brooke in their faces, but Brooke holds herself just like her father, has the same warm smile as her mother, tiny things that prove Brooke belongs here. Brooke’s sister and brother-in-law are next, both thrilled to meet her.

Vanessa pulls out the tulips she hid in her purse and gives them to Brooke’s mom. “Don’t blame Brooke, she said not to,” Vanessa says quickly. “But I wanted to.” Vanessa’s mother wouldn’t dream of going to someone’s house empty-handed, and it’s rubbed off on her.

Brooke’s mom happily puts them in a vase, and Vanessa knows she really likes them.

Vanessa sits with Brooke on a squishy couch, skin tingling where her knee meets Brooke’s. Brooke around her family is… different. She’s self-conscious at first, fidgeting with her shorts and glancing at Vanessa, making sure she’s okay. But Vanessa smiles at Brooke and she slowly loosens up, a rope unraveling bit by bit. She helps her mom in the kitchen, talks about work with her sister, even calms the kids when they start terrorizing the place. It’s a new side of her around her family, one Vanessa is grateful to see.

“How did you two meet?” Brooke’s mom asks.

She and Brooke glance at each other.

“Our friend Nina introduced us,” Brooke says. They’d decided to stay as close to the truth as possible. “Vanessa works with her at the library.”

“Oh, you work in a library?” Brooke’s mom asks eagerly. “Do you like it?”

Vanessa flinches, because this is how it started with her ex-girlfriend’s family. Just an innocent work question. Then it was do you even need a degree for that and soon she was in an interrogation about her education and family, sinking into her chair and burning with embarrassment. But Brooke’s mom is smiling, interested rather than judging, and Vanessa unclenches a jaw she didn’t know was clenched.

“I love it there, actually. I do crafts with the kids, and we have our summer carnival coming up…” she keeps it light, figuring Brooke’s sweet family doesn’t need to know the amount of dirty diapers patrons leave behind.

They move to dinner, and everyone is so calm and polite, it’s almost… Strange, in a way. Vanessa’s family shouts over each other and laughs loud enough to be heard outside, and she’s never wanted it any other way. Here, someone asks her about work, or what she does for fun, and everyone is quiet enough to listen. It’s her own little audience, one she doesn’t have to scream for, and Vanessa turns up the charm. She compliments Brooke’s mom on the food and has them all in tears over the non-disgusting library stories.

Vanessa is so deep in the moment, in how natural it is, that she’s distractedly planning a weekend for Brooke to meet her family when it hits her that this isn’t real. Brooke won’t meet her parents or play with her nieces and nephew or devour her mom’s chicken and rice, because this isn’t real, and everything she ate becomes a rock in her stomach.

Vanessa offers to help with the dishes, but apparently Brooke’s politeness runs in the family, because they won’t let a guest clean. Instead, she stays with the kids and finds herself in a deep conversation about Legos with Sam. It’s better than conversations she’s had with adults, if she’s honest.

There’s coffee and a damn good chocolate cake and more hugs, and then she’s back in the car with Brooke.

“Are you okay?” Brooke asks. “They can ask a lot of questions.”

Vanessa waves her off. “They’re fine, Brooke. I’ve been asked worse, believe me.”

“Well, thank you again for this. It was fun.” Brooke’s voice is honey-sweet and velvet-soft, and it sends a shiver down Vanessa’s spine.

“It was no problem. Your family’s really nice.” This is it, she realizes. The agreement is over. But she needs more time with Brooke, needs it like air. “Hey, would you want to come to the library carnival with me in August? My boss liked you a lot. There’s no rides or anything, ‘cause that’s some legal shit, but we’ll have games and food and stuff.”

“I’d love to,” Brooke says earnestly, and something settles in Vanessa’s heart. Some sort of lightness, of joy, carried on the promise of being with Brooke again.

Vanessa’s foot brushes something, and she peeks and notices her lipstick fell out of her purse. She reaches to pick it up, then stops. Because surely Brooke, polite to a fault, will make it a point to return it, and then Vanessa can see her that much sooner.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #fake dating au #fluff #if you ever want to be in love #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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primedirection · 5 years

Text

Dead to me

In which Harry does the unthinkable

Warning: Angst

AN: Idk about you but I like the pain

These past three years have been an absolute rollercoaster. It had it's ups, it's loops, and right now it's downs.

It had been building up over a couple months. Harry could be the sweetest enchanting soul and he could be the coldest. Giving even the devil a run for his money. It was what you like to call 'On season'. The season where he was in the studio everyday, and when he wasn't in the studio he was out with mates 'finding inspiration' until the sun came up. The one where only some nights he'd have the gall to send you a 'Don't wait up!' text, instead of just leaving you to stay up and worry until he walked through the front door again. But during 'On season' even when he was home it wasn't much better. He'd either sleep the day away to recover from the nights he went out, or he'd spend them locked in his study going over the soon to be promo schedule bound to drag him away from you as well. Those days he hardly spoke a word to you.

Like everything else in this relationship, part of the blame fell on yourself. It's not like you didn't know what you signed up for. You knew how massive his role was in this world, how important and how hard he had to work to keep his career thriving. How much he meant to people around the world and what they meant to him. It's why during 'On season' you bit your tongue until it sometimes bled to dejectedly leave him be instead of starting a potential argument by asking him to spend some time with you. And perhaps that's where you went wrong because you let it build until it reached your limit.

Tonight started like the many. Harry starting his day in the studio and ending it in a club somewhat drunk. Unsuccessfully sneaking inside at four in the morning to lay down on the sofa to sleep it off, but you were there already up waiting on him. Not that he was even slightly surprised to see you there.

He merely sighed raking his fingers through his short disheveled hair before dropping his keys off and shrugging off his coat. Slurring, "Shit, could've sworn I text you,"

The lack of a genuine apology in his carefree reply had overstimulated the animosity building up inside you and spilling out of your mouth without a second thought. Scoffing, "That would require you to think of someone other than yourself for once. Obviously something you're not capable of,"

You didn't mean that, you swear you didn't but once you started it was impossible to stop. At the sound of your tone he momentarily paused before visibly wilting. With a new type of lag in his step as he approached. The closer he got the better you could see the cold bleary green of his heavily lidded eyes, and the dark circles under them to match.

"Please, please don' fuckin start. I'm tired, you're tired let's just go t' bed and start over tomorrow when-"

"No! Fuck that! All I've been doing is waiting! Waiting for you to take a break, waiting for you to come home, waiting for you to fucking acknowledge that I even exist!" You shout absolutely fed up.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and it immediately reminds you of the first time you had this argument. Back then the gesture used to calm him down. He looked up afterwards with remorse in his eyes, hurt that he hurt you and it ended in a sincere apology and the most intense love making you've ever had. But now when his hand dropped he looked nothing short of furious. Nostrils flared, lips pressed tight, jaw clenched, and brows pulled tight enough to create the famous crease his fan girls loved so much.

"Alright then, c'mon! Lay your shit on top of the even bigger pile I have on my plate! Hurry up and blame me for everything so I can get to fucking bed already," he seethes through bared teeth.

"Oh come off it, you're not the damn victim here, Harry. If you're really so got damned tired then maybe you should try sleeping at night instead of partying all the damn time!"

Harry flinches at first, that taken aback. He thought you understood more than anyone just what he'd been working so hard toward. So just as quick he becomes really angry, chest heaving and unable to refrain from storming toward you and shouting back, "I've been fucking working! You know good and well networking and being seen is apart of my job. I can't afford to be a damn hermit!"

"Every single night? Really?"

"You don't seem to have a problem with that when the bills come in. Not that you've ever seen one," He glares maliciously.

Now that actually hurt, like taking a punt in the gut hurt. You were left breathless all the same. Gasping, "Harry,"

And yet he still wasn't done. "No if you're gonna attack me for being 'selfish' then I get to defend myself when you're being ungrateful!"

"Ungrateful, are you kidding me? I've made sacrifices just to be here with you Harry! I'm the one that comes running to your every beck and fucking call. Whenever and wherever you're lonely, tour included! When your so called friends bail I'm the only one left to take care of you!" Adrenaline courses through you so intense your hands won't stop trembling.

"Wow, I didn't realize flying out for a fuck was such a big deal. You made those choices to come, I didn't force you! And s' not like you didn't get something in return for it anyway,"

Your heart nearly shattered at how vile he painted that experience. The lowest blow he could ever make. Those memories truly meant the most to you. "And it's not like I asked you buy me shit!" You fumed.

"So you're just gonna ignore this fancy fucking house we live in? As if it wasn't your idea, hmm? The nice cars you drive, the endless flights back and forth for your family because you can't be alone for one damn day, the five star hotels, the fucking trips that I take you on-"

"That's not the point, Harry!" You damn near shriek overwhelmed, tears pouring freely down your cheeks, "I don't care about any of that!"

"You don't care? You don't care and I've been working my ass off for it. Really?" In that moment something snapped inside of Harry, like a switch. His stress and rage merging into one and swelling like a balloon, desperately needing some kind of release.

"Harry you know I—"

"No, I know exactly what you meant! Fuck all this shit right? You don't care?" Harry suddenly goes on a rampage. Starting with the first shelf that you built together when you first moved in, lined with pictures of both of you from milestones over the years. With rabid force you've never seen him use he tosses it over face first. Shattering most if not all the frames on the tiled floor. The shelf itself splitting in half.

Leaving you screaming, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"You're what's wrong with me!" He shouts and then went another shelf. One that contained both of your favorite childhood photos.

"Harry stop!" You plead shielding your eyes as shards of debris fly all over the place.

"I've been working myself so hard! Practically to an early grave for this— for you?!" He began stalking towards the fireplace and your heart stopped. He wouldn't, would he?

As he shows no signs of letting up you panic and desperately beg, "Harry stop! Please don't —" but he doesn't care and you are too late to physically stop him.

The sounds of glass breaking as he swept his hands over the mantle was enough to startle you but there was a crash of one particular item that sent your heart shattering with it.

A container that hadn't even been a year old yet. Your feet carried you over to the mess without your brains comprehension or a single care that Harry's tirade moved on to a different shelf. Nor about the shards of glass that stung both your knees as they tore your skin open or Harry eventually demanding what the hell you were doing. All you registered was the slight cloud of dust resonating in the air and the actual pool of ashes spread about all over the floor.

Ashes that belonged to your father. Just everywhere.

Harry had heard you cry before plenty of times, not that he was proud of it. But there was something eerily disturbing and heart wrenching about the way you were trembling and sobbing uncontrollably now. As upset as he was it made him stop dead in his tracks. He instinctively assumed that you had been hurt given your collapsed positon. Immediately he felt guilty but that multiplied by ten fold once he rushed closer to your side to help.

At first he didn't understand how you could be covered in dirt so suddenly and then the realization set in that it wasn't dirt at all. He fucked up and he fucked up irrevocably.

Hardly even a year ago your father passed from cancer and you had been waiting to scatter his ashes on his birthday. Harry knew that. He just didn't know that you moved him there on the mantle he all too recently destroyed.

Pretty soon he found himself on his knees cursing and pleading. His hands shaking too now grabbing at broken shards of glass, "Shit! Shit baby, I didn't mean tha'! I didn't know he was there I swear it! Shit. M' so sorry. I'll fix it, I'll get you a new one I promise,"

Your father's death took the hardest toll on you that he's ever seen, and once again it was resurfacing. He broke you.

Your feedback is always appreciated!

Part 2

#Harry styles angst #Harry styles imagines #Harry x reader #Harry styles #one direction imagines #Harry Styles one shot #One direction one shot #harry styles drabble

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mcuspidey-archive · 5 years

Text

bulletproof — part two

❈ agent!tom x agent!reader series ❈

a/n: this has been posted before but since amy deleted, i’m reposting here! and yes we will still be writing this. it would mean the world if you reblogged again if you already did before and of course we love reading any feedback. thank you for loving this series as much as we do ❤️

+2.1k words

part one

Drip. Drop.

Drip.

The trickling drops of perspiration mixed with the streaming tears that were no longer confined in Tom’s bloodshot eyes. He pressed his palms to the cold surface of the shower tiles, his skin radiating with warmth--a familiar kind because he was used to feeling a gut wrenching anxiety every time he was on a mission. But today, it was different. It was a state somewhere between denial and acceptance, where all you can feel is hot pangs that resemble anger and an equally dangerous fear that leaves you numb. Too numb to comprehend what happened, or how it happened. And Tom was just beginning to not deny the fact that the woman he fell in love with had stopped existing in the same world he continued to live and breathe in and it wasn’t fair. At least to him, it wasn’t.

Because it should’ve been him. He should’ve ran into that dreadful building as soon as he promised he would. Or at the very least said those three words sooner. Maybe then the strongest, fiercest, most beautiful woman he had ever met would still be here. He tried to shake off the images and thoughts of what could have been but it was all a reality that he wished to have never known.

Tom turned on the shower, letting the cold droplets seep through his curls and slide down his flushed cheeks--hoping to soothe the unbearable warmth that he didn’t want to feel anymore if it wasn’t from the touch of her fingertips.

Her.

A sob builds in his throat as he pictured how she must’ve looked seconds before the facility blew up, was she still wearing that fearless smile? Was she thinking of him? Was she feeling the same intense passion for him and if so, would she have said it back?

A blur of memories washed over his consciousness as the water did everything but calm his senses. The Y/E/C eyes that he was so used to getting lost in, drifted far enough for him to never reach them again. And the melody of her voice he couldn’t go a day without listening to, began to fade away. What did her laugh sound like?

Tom cursed himself and punched the wall, his knuckles throbbing at the harsh contact but he knew that it was just the beginning. In a couple of days he’d forget the aroma of her perfume that lingered around on his skin because she loved to drape her arm around his neck and kiss his cheek. Her lips.

“Tom, you’ve gotta focus,” she snapped, licking her lips slightly and tapping her fingers on the file sitting on the table. She was right, he hadn’t heard a single word she had just said. It all came out in a slow mumble because he was too busy staring at her mouth and wondering what she would feel like. How her lips would feel against his and if the taste would resemble her favorite cherry flavored chapstick. What would happen if he leaned in just a little bit and closed the distance between them.

She cleared her throat, getting his attention back with a light-hearted chuckle.

“Uh-yeah.” Tom gives her a tight-lipped smile and flips the pages, skimming through the text but the intent gaze boring into him made him look back up. “All good?” He adds, eyes studying the way her teeth sank into her bottom lip, nibbling a little too anxiously.

“Did you even hear what I said?” She asked with a raised brow and mischievous smirk.

Keeping that tiny grin, he shook his head.

“I asked if you liked my lipstick…”

Tom’s face instantly felt flush from the pink-tinted blush forming on his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, letting out the melodic laugh he had already managed to fall in love with. “It’s an expensive shade, Holland, you won’t be able to afford it.”

His eyes close slowly as his hand comes up, fingers brushing his own lips that were forming the smallest smile as he thought back to that moment and wishing that it was her touch instead. Because within a month he’d forget how it had always unleashed a fuzz of emotions under his skin--lighting every corner with a warmth very different from the one he felt now. The warmth he couldn’t label until she was standing at the verge of losing herself.

The muffled sobs turn into ugly cries as Tom leans against the square tiles, the cold surface drawing out the heat from his forehead and a calm--just like the one before a storm--took over him. A faint memory of her breath caressing his cheeks cutting through his already distracted brain prompted a scream loud enough for her to hear. No matter where she was. She could still hear him. No one ever stops existing. We live. People live in the memories of the ones they love.

Love.

It’s a word people overuse at times. But the reality is, there comes a time when you start feeling every emotion embedded in that four letter word and never dare to use it. Ever again.

Tom’s hooded eyes shut close again as he lifts his head to hide the tears under the stream of water, a steady trail of droplets decorating his warm cheeks and sliding down to his quivering lips. He swipes his tongue over them and he swore he could taste her lips on them. She would probably taste like chocolate covered cherries and--Tom’s chest began to vibrate with sobs as he recalled the kiss he could never share. A memory he could never get a hold of.

He could turn around and still feel her. He could just shut his eyes and be met with the gentle smile that was only for him, the way she batted her eyelids and teased him with playful touches. Each memory so painfully engraved in him, choking him and drawing out the breaths he wished were only counted. It was meaningless to exist in a world where the person you couldn’t stop thinking of, stopped existing.

Tom turns the shower to a higher setting and the stream of water turns warmer, drops rolling down his back overpowering the flush saturating his skin, providing a momentary relief he didn’t deserve. Because the burning wasn’t from her soft hands or her lingering breath as she leaned in to tease him with a kiss placed easily on his jaw. No. She was gone and he would never have the satisfaction of feeling such a comfortable pain again, an ache that he would gladly endure if it meant he could have her back by his side. He just wanted his partner back… Wanted all of the endless ‘what ifs’ and possibilities… A chance to feel what it was like to be loved by her.

Tom shook his head, finally deciding to turn the knob, water cutting off abruptly as he leaned back against the steamed-over shower door. His wet hair lost its place and fell in strands over his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered to brush back. He had had enough. All he wanted now was to climb in his bed, maybe order take-out if he decided eating was absolutely necessary, and definitely not show up to work later. Because as far as he was concerned, that mission was over the second she decided it was worth giving up her life.

It ended as soon as the muted, muffled sound of static came over in his earpiece and the van shook from the blast that would haunt him forever.

Forever.

How long do forevers actually last?

Long enough to break you a million times before it finally stops putting you back together.

Grabbing his towel and wrapping it tightly around his waist, Tom sighed as he walked out to his living room. His gaze falls on the folders of work scattered on the couch that he hadn’t bothered to pick up yet, each one containing information about the suspects and what he thought could be their motive, apart from the obvious. Just another crime in the city they had been responsible for stopping, like all the other cases. So-called impossible tasks and yet they did it. They pulled them off almost effortlessly, because she was fearless and strong. Tom would tell anyone that he had nothing to do with it. He would say that he was just “the guy in the van” but she was the brains and the glue that held everything together and had so much strength in her for the both of them. And he didn’t know how she always did it, until now. Now there was a difference because this one was left wide open with absolutely no evidence to go on and his partner… She paid the ultimate price and took with her the courage he would have had to keep going.

A lopsided smile played across his lips and he finally picked up the file. Just seconds after mourning, the pain was beginning to transform into a stronger, more intense emotion. The sadness coursing through his veins dissipated before turning into a mess of broken frustrations and anger, all resurfacing in the form of an ugly fit of rage reverberating with the loud slamming of his fists on the coffee table as he tossed the folder to some other corner of the room. Each paper, the contents of the objective that would never be justified, scattered in the air around him, seemingly in slow motion as if taunting him and making him want to scream. With every leaflet floating in the room, his anger only intensified. How could she be so stupid? Stupid enough to risk her life for a mission she wouldn’t be remembered for. But it was gone. She was gone and with every ounce of courage he still had, maybe he would learn to live with just the memories of her.

Tom took a few deep breaths to pacify the anger that seemed almost impossible for him to contain. But he had to. For his own sanity.

As if the memories weren’t a torture enough, the loud doorbell announced the arrival of a company he wasn’t in the mood to entertain. Quickly grabbing his gun from the side table, he cautiously makes his way over to the front door, keeping the weapon down at his side in a way that was easy to lift up if needed.

Tom takes another breath, stepping to slowly look through the peephole. He squints as he tries to make out the figure that seemed a little too familiar. Dressed in a black trench coat, their face was hidden under a hat but as if on cue, a pair of Y/E/C eyes gaze up from under the rim.

No.

He knew those eyes all too well but there was no way they belonged to her. She couldn’t be standing there just on the other side of the door because she was gone. She died in the blast and it had to be his imagination running wild.

The doorknob rotates and the door opens with a soft click, Tom’s throat running dry with the realisation that he was going to stand face-to-face with someone who was supposed to be dead. That somehow it was her but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He lets out a humorless laugh, thinking that he must really be going crazy because he wasn’t looking at her. He was seeing only what he wanted to see and it was all just a cover for a possible threat that he needed to be wary of now more than ever.

Shaking his head, he tells himself over and over that this was a set-up and begins to lift his arm as he swings open the door, holding the gun out in front of him but a shaky, fragile voice causes him to freeze.

“Hi, Tommy,” she whispers.

Tom’s eyes widen at the words and similar sound of his name rolling off her tongue but he points the gun at her as his reflexes kick in. With every ounce of the agent in him, yelling and screaming, going off like a siren, telling him to protect himself, that he was in danger, he stepped back slightly. She would want him to be safe and her voice, telling him that he shouldn’t take any risks, echoed in his thoughts.

So with a sudden and small bend of his finger, a loud gunshot pierces the silence, shattering like glass as it misses and collides with the wall just behind her.

just gonna tag some mutuals!

@starksparker @hollandroos @sunshinehollandd @spideypeach @stuckonspidey @toms-gf @tomhollandeu @raspberryparker @peterplanet @suncitydanvers @cosmicdaya @popculture-parker @poetrypeter

#tom holland x reader #tom holland au #agent!tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland series #bulletproof fic

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caelesjjk · 5 years

Text

Push (Part 2)

Welcome to Part 2 babes!! Feedback is the best, so leave me some okay? I hope you guys like it!!

It was rainy and cold outside now. The leaves on the trees were starting to change colors and fall from the branches above. I loved walking to work on days like this. I loved taking in the smell of the rain and the sound of the leaves crunching underneath my boots. I loved the way the raindrops slid down my see-through umbrella. And best of all, my favorite coffee shop was getting in all their new flavors for the season and I couldn’t wait to grab a cup before I got to the school.

The little bell above the sky blue door rang quietly as I opened it, shaking out my umbrella and smiling at the sweet older couple behind the tall wooden counter. Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield owned the little coffee shop and were always kind enough to remember my order and my name.

“Good morning, Isabella.” Mr. Hatfield said as I approached the counter.

“When will I convince you to call me Izzy, Mr. Hatfield?” I asked him.

“Isabella is too beautiful a name to shorten it.” He grabs a mug and waits for me to tell him what I’d like to drink, while Mrs. Hatfield is already handing me a blueberry scone.

“I’ll do the chai tea latte today.” I smile and start to hand Mrs. Hatfield my money when someone from behind me pushes my hand away to hand her some money.

“Her order is on me.” The familiar voice says a little too closely to my ear. I turn towards him.

“Calum?” I say, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Morning, Bambi.” He smirks, grabbing a different coffee from the counter and walking towards a table in the corner of the small shop. I’m left there just staring after him.

“Here you are, dear.” Mr. Hatfield hands me my drink but I’m still not sure what to do with myself. What was he doing here? Why this coffee shop of all the coffee shops he could walk into?

“Well…go on dear.” Mrs. Hatfield motions with her head towards Calum’s table.

“What? I mean no…he’s just my boyfriend’s roommate.” I push some hair behind my ear and pick up the small plate from the counter containing my scone.

“That’s not what your eyes said when you saw him.” She motions with her head again, coaxing me to sit with him.

“I just…I um. Okay.” I stumble over my words and slowly make my way over to the table Calum is sitting at. His feet are propped up on the chair in front of him and he’s reading yet another book. This time, it’s the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. One of my all-time favorites.

“Need something, Bambi?” He doesn’t look up from the book, but I can see the small crinkles next to his eyes forming, meaning he is most definitely smirking behind that book.

“Can I…” I look back at Mrs. Hatfield and she widens her eyes expectantly “Can I sit with you?” I finally get out.

He doesn’t say anything, he only slides his feet off the chair across from him and turns the page of his book. I bite my lip, quickly sitting down on the chair and settling into it. I have no idea what to say to him, or how to say it. Calum smells slightly of cigarette smoke and delightfully woodsy cologne. It was much nicer than I wanted to admit. His white tshirt was tucked into a pair of holey blue jeans and covered by a maroon colored zip up hoodie. The curls on his head looked freshly showered and sticking up in a few places, and he was sort of…beautiful.

“You’re staring again, Bambi.” Calum lowers his book and meets my eyes.

“No I’m not.” I try to take a sip of my drink and almost drop it back down onto the table. He smiles wider and shakes his head a few times.

“What would Michael think if he knew his sweet little girlfriend was ogling his best friend?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’m just sitting here, Calum. I’m sorry you’re such an egomaniac that even something that simple is apparently all about you.” I stand up from the chair and start gathering my things back together. What a waste of time this was.

“Sit down, Bambi.” He says, laying down the book he was reading on the table.

“No. I have to get to work.” I grab my bag and umbrella and take a few steps towards the door.

“Isabella. Please sit down.” Calum is standing up at the table now, he doesn’t make a move towards me though.

“And what will we talk about, Calum?” I turn back around and slump my shoulders.

“First of all, you can tell me how you manage to survive the elements with that ridiculous umbrella.” His tattooed arms are crossed over his chest as he motions towards the chair for me to sit down. I sigh loudly and walk back to the chair.

“I’ll sit back down on one condition.” I say.

“What’s that?” He slides back into his chair.

“You don’t make fun of my favorite umbrella, ever again.” I smile at him as I sit back down and he laughs lightly.

“Alright then, Bambi. No more umbrella jokes.” His long fingers come up onto the table top and push the small plate with my scone on it back towards me. “Eat up.” He says lowly. It’s like he has a direct line between my legs, and I have no idea why.

Sitting here with him isn’t uncomfortable. It’s strangely comfortable. We talk about the book he was reading. I tell him that I’ve read it dozens of times and he admits the same. It was hard to imagine him as someone who read so often, but from my small amount of encounters with him, I was wrong. He asked about my job, and I told him about the sweet kids in my class. He told me he was an editor for a very small publisher here in the city. It was also something I didn’t expect but could completely see the more I listened to him talk. He also explained that his normal coffee shop across the street had been turned into some kind of hipster café and he wasn’t about to deal with that every morning. It made me laugh but only because I couldn’t imagine what the odds could possibly be that this would be his new found favorite place to read and drink black coffee.

“I should really go this time.” I said, looking down at the time on my phone. Just as I was about to put it away, it dinged with a text message from Michael.

Morning beautiful girl.

I smiled at the screen before typing a quick reply and putting the phone away. Calum looked up at me as I stood, the smile on his face not really there anymore.

“Did you tell Michael I was here with you?” He asked flatly.

“No. It didn’t come up.” I adjust my coat and look back down at him in his chair.

“Good. Don’t.” He slams his feet back down onto the chair I was sitting in before and picks up his book.

“Alright. See you around, Calum.” I don’t want to say anything else. Something has apparently upset him and I’m not here to push the issue.

When I arrive at the school ten minutes later, Michael is standing out front with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. His head is covered by a black beanie and he’s wearing an all black hoodie with some of his favorite anime characters on the front of it. I try to control my smile by biting my lip and walking towards him.

“It’s freezing out here, babe. What took you so long?” He smiles, handing me the flowers and holding my wind burnt cheeks in his cold hands.

“It just took a little longer to get coffee this morning, that’s all. What are you doing here Mikey?” I step up closer to him while he continues to hold my face.

“Well…” He presses a sweet kiss to my lip. “These are the first of many more presents you’ll be getting.”

“Presents? Why are you getting my presents?” I laugh lightly.

“Your birthday is on Saturday, love.” Michael says. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I had completely forgotten about my own birthday.

“Wow. I didn’t think I could be anymore scatter brained these days.” I lay my head against his chest and give him one more quick hug.

“We can go out on Saturday if you like? And you can stay at my place?” He kisses my cheek as I start to walk up the steps to the school.

“Sure. That would be great.” I tried to say with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

“Awesome. I think you’ll like your last gift, but I can’t give you that one until we get back to my house Saturday night.” Michael says, his hands gripping a little tighter at my hips. Was he trying to imply something?

“Looking forward to it.” I smile and kiss his cheek. “I should go inside, I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, babe. Have a good day.” He lets go of my hips and begins his way back down the sidewalk.

I’m beginning to wonder if this morning actually happened. It all feels surreal. Seeing Calum in the coffee shop and enjoying his company. Michael showing up outside of the school and basically saying he wanted to have sex Saturday night. And I should most certainly be excited about that part. It’s what I’ve been wanting, for us to go to that next step. But now I felt more…uncertain than I had before.

Distracted would be the word I’d use to describe the rest of the day. There were so many thoughts swimming through my mind. Michael. Calum. And all the confusing feelings that came with them. The thoughts I was having about Calum weren’t right. I shouldn’t be thinking them at all. I was perfectly content with my sweet boyfriend. Right? Of course I am. A text message ding from Michael breaks me away from my thoughts as I walk home from work.

Come over? I have a surprise for you.

You already gave me a present today, Mikey.

One more. The doors unlocked, just come in.

Okay.

I took a deep breath and started walking towards Michael’s house instead of my own. It was farther than I’d normally walk but I needed to clear my head on the way there. I was mostly hoping that once I got there, I wouldn’t see Calum at all, and maybe that would make it easier not think about him. But because I have monumental bad luck, Calum is standing outside on the small front step smoking a cigarette. He’s leaning against the side of the house with his hood over his head.

"Shit.” I whisper to myself as I approach the house.

“Back so soon?” He says as he breathes out the smoke.

“Michael invited me over.” I sigh.

“You don’t seem thrilled.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I am. Of course I am.” I scoff and reach for the door handle, but he wraps his hand around my wrist and stops me.

“Meet me in the kitchen tonight, okay? Around midnight.” He looks very serious as he says the words.

“Why?” I can barely breathe out the word, his hand on my skin is making it too difficult.

“We need to talk.” At that, he lets go of my wrist and steps back, placing the cigarette back in his plump lips.

I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I wasn’t expecting anything like that from him. I struggle with the door handle for a moment before I walk inside. I hear Calum quietly laugh at my struggle and I can’t help but smile at the sound. Once I’m inside, I slip off my boots and coat and walk back towards Michael’s bedroom. There’s soft music playing inside and I’m not sure if I should knock, but in the mean time, Michael has already opened the door surprising me and making me jump.

“Hey sweetheart. How long have you been standing out here?” He reaches for my hand and I let him take it.

“Just for a second. I was just… thinking.” I try to play off my internal turmoil.

“Well get in here beautiful.” He pulls gently on my hand and I clumsily step into his room.

There are a few candles lit on his desk and bookshelf and another gift bag sitting on the middle of his bed. I feel sick to my stomach.

“You really shouldn’t buy me anymore gifts, Mikey.” My voice shakes. All I can think about is meeting Calum at midnight.

“Come on babe, your birthday’s only once a year.” He leans over the bed and picks up the giftbag, handing it to me with the cutest smile on his face. I smile back and take the tissue paper out of the bag.

Inside the bag is a picture frame with a picture of the two of us from a couple weeks ago. We were in front of one of the big fountains in the middle of the city. Michael’s arm was wrapped around my shoulders and I kissing his cheek. I had almost forgotten we took this picture.

“Thank you, Mikey. This is so sweet. I love it.” I can feel myself getting a little emotional. And not because of how much I like the gift, but because a minute ago I was thinking about my boyfriend’s roommate. I’m a terrible person.

“Aww, don’t cry babe. I’m glad you like it.” He kisses my lips and lets it linger for a moment.

“I really do.” I breathe on his lips. He smiles against my mouth and kisses me again.

It’s just a slow movement of lips at first, and then our tongues start swiping over the other. Michael takes the picture from my hands and sits it down, before backing me up until the backs of my knees hit his bed.

“Do you want to lie down?” He asks, still kissing me.

“Okay.” I need to do this. I need to stop thinking about Calum.

I lay back against Michael’s comforter and he gently lays his body on top of mine, pressing his lips back to mine quickly. One of his hands touches my side and my hip where my shirt has started rising from our movements. It was almost working, I almost forgot completely about Calum and got lost in Michael. But that part of my brain that just can’t seem to stop thinking about Calum and his heavenly smile and perfect skin decided to speak up and I couldn’t keep it up anymore.

“You alright, Izzy?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m just tired is all.” I run my fingers through his soft hair reassuringly.

“Okay, I’ll get us something to eat. You relax, yeah?” He kisses me once more before getting off the bed and helping me up.

“Thanks, Mikey.” I watch as he smiles over his shoulder at me and walks out of his room. I quickly stand up and wipe at my mouth and eyes. What is wrong with me? Am I going insane?

I happily ate the Chinese food that Michael ordered, but I also couldn’t stop watching the clock on the other side of the room. I shouldn’t go. I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he has some kind of power over me. But more of me wanted to know what he had to say. I needed to know what he could possibly want from me.

I wasn’t going to go. I was going to stay right where I was and forget about this whole thing completely. I would lay here next to my boyfriend and not go anywhere near his roommate.

But as the red numbers on the clock turned to 12:00 I became restless. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even force my body to turn away from the clock. And when it was 12:05, I couldn’t take it anymore, I quietly got out of Michael’s warm bed, making sure that he was still fast asleep before walking out in just his t-shirt and my underwear. I nervously padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen.

The only light on was the extremely dim one above the sink. Calum was standing there with his back to me with only some dark gray sweats draped on his hips. His hands were bracing him against the counter as he took a deep breath and turned around when he heard me come into the room.

“Don’t you own any pajama pants, Bambi?” Calum smirks, melting my insides.

“I didn’t go home after work. Stop looking if it bothers you so much.” Usually, I would move to cover myself, but I didn’t want to anymore.

“I don’t think ‘bother’ is the word I’d use.” He looks down before he takes a few steps towards me.

“Why did you want to talk to me,Calum?” I move over towards the fridge and lean my back against it.

“You can’t like me, Isabella.” He says.

“Like you? What are you talking about?” My eyes are wide.

“I see how you look at me. How you smile at me. You’re with Mike and I don’t want him getting hurt because you can’t control yourself around me.” There’s a slight teasing in the way he says it, and it makes my blood boil.

“Fuck you, Calum. Don’t take me being friendly with my boyfriend’s roommate as flirting. It’s definitely not. Not even close.” I move away from the fridge. “And another thing, you’re the one always flirting with me. So maybe you should cut that shit out?” The words come out so quickly they’re barely understandable but I’m so angry that I don’t care in the slightest.

“I haven’t been flirting. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks at me expectantly. I glare at him and move to walk out of the kitchen. “Wait.” He says quickly.

“Honestly, I don’t want to ever talk to you again. We can be civil for Michael’s sake, and that’s it. Otherwise, you can just go fuck yourself.” I start to turn away again.

“Never heard you talk like this, Bambi. It’s kind of hot.” I don’t even have to turn around to know he’s smirking. So proud of his pigheaded comment.

“Really? You literally JUST flirted with me. Are you fucking insane? No, I’m the one who’s insane for coming in here to talk to you.” I’m almost out the door this time when he says my name again.

“Isabella, just wait.” I turn around to see him standing in the middle of the kitchen now.

“What else do you want from me?” I sigh.

“Obviously, no one has ever flirted with you properly, if you thought that was flirting.” He steps towards me and I take another step back until my back is against the wall.

“That’s absurd, Calum.” I try to look away from his eyes, but it’s nearly impossible. They’re dark and warm and oh so easy to get lost in.

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks quietly once he’s only a few inches away from me.

“That’s not any of your business.” I can barely breathe.

“Just answer the question, Isabella.” His hands come up and rest against the wall, trapping me there with very little oxygen reaching my brain.

“No. I didn’t. Not yet.” I manage to look up and see his mouth set into a straight line.

“Why did you meet me in here tonight?” He asks. His face is close to mine I can feel his breaths.

“You asked me to.” I say quickly.

“That’s not good enough.” His bottom lip goes between his teeth as he steps up closer, his hips pressing lightly against mine. Fuck, where’s the oxygen?

“I wanted to know what you had to say.” I reply again as more of a whisper.

“You know why I think you came in here?” One of his hands comes down from the wall, and I watch as he brings it down close to my thigh. “I think you wanted me to touch you.” He whispers the words in my ear, every inch of my skin blanketing in goosebumps.

The tip of his middle finger touches the skin just above my knee, drawing a small circle before slowly dragging up. I don’t stop him. I should stop him. But I can’t. I want him to touch me.

“Calum…” Is the only word I can get out.

“I think you wanted me to touch you here.” He says lowly, his middle finger pushing up the t-shirt I’m wearing so he can trace it along the band of my underwear. “And here…” He dips his finger just inside the band and slides it across to the front of my body and stops. “Maybe here…” He starts to slide his finger down the front of my underwear.

“Shit…” I say with a shaky breath.

“Goodnight, Bambi.” I can feel him smile against my ear where he’s been whispering as he pulls his hand away and slowly walks out of the kitchen. I can hear his door shut down the hall before I open my eyes and release the longest breath of my life.

“What the fuck…” I use my hand to wipe at the sweat starting to form on my forehead.

What am I doing?

#calum hood fic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #calum hood #Michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #you guys need to give me more feedback #it fuels my soul #I love this so much I cant wait to write more

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miss-wanderlustwriter · 6 years

Text

Not So Different (Part 1)

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Part 1: Approx. 3000 words

Request: Hey! Can you write something fluffy and cute about billy and how the reader is shy, quiet and timid and billy finds out she’s abused by her dad at home and he becomes really protective of her and all soft and cuddly whenever she’s around - Anon

Warnings (for the series): Verbal abuse, physical abuse, language, anxiety. So possible triggers. Lots of fluff.

A/N: Hey hey, so apologies again for not posting in a while, but my idea for this request kind grew into a multi-part. So this is just a bit of an intro, setting the scene, the fluff and protection will come I promise. Hope you all like it! Please please don’t by shy in giving any feedback! Like, comment, reblog, send me an ask or a message. I appreciate anything. Love you all, thanks for being patient! ♥

I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to fall for the new bad boy of Hawkins, it was too cliche, but it wasn't like I had a choice. He consumed me with that desire in his eyes and the uncontrollable passion in his soul.

He became my surety, my reliance, my strength and in return I became his; he found a hope in me he'd never managed to acquire before.

I fell so deeply for him and as I teetered off the edge I wasn't entirely sure if he would catch me at the bottom, but then I realised I didn't care.

On his first day at Hawkins High, the new kid, Billy Hargrove found his locker directly next to mine, and as I let out a typical Monday morning sigh I couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes piercing the side of my face. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and dared to flit my gaze to the figure looming next to me; I was met with a somewhat intimidating stare from the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. My mouth gaped slightly which I’m sure didn’t go unnoticed as I tried to take in the sight before me. His posture was strong and confident, and his muscles were clearly defined underneath his clothes; they definitely don’t make teenage boys like this in Hawkins.

One side glance around the door of his locker turned into a dangerous smirk that reached his sapphire eyes as he, not so subtly, raked them over my body. I saw his eyes light up as they ran over my bare legs and reached the hem of my pleated skirt, the way he bit his lip at my tightly fitted sweater before, satisfied with his observations, he met my wide-eyed gaze.

I knew I was a goner when I was lost in the ocean of his eyes, no other colour existed to me at that moment but blue; and then I allowed his deep coarse voice to send a wave of goose bumps across my skin.

"And what might your name be Princess?" He asked with his smirk.

Of course, I stuttered trying to form words in front of him.

"Erm...it's, erm...Y/N." Goddamn it.

"You sure about that?" He chuckled as he closed his locker and casually leaned a shoulder against it. He folded his arms causing his biceps to bulge in his denim jacket and white button up shirt to gape even more, displaying his chiselled and tanned chest.

I tore my eyes away finding his filled with arrogance at knowing what he was doing to me.

"Yes, I'm Y/N." With as much strength as I could muster.

"Well that’s good to know. I’m Billy.” He winked directly at me and turned to walk away leaving me blushing in his wake at his perfect arse in those jeans.

The next day as my eyes travelled along the grubby tiled floor of the school corridor, they came into contact with a pair of tattered brown boots planted directly in front of my locker. I slowly lifted my head, running my gaze over the fitted denim and tight t-shirt that enveloped the very boy I was hoping I wouldn’t see this morning. A lost cause I know considering his locker is next to mine, but a girl can hope.

I was met with a teasing lightness in his blue orbs which suddenly made me incredibly nervous. A smirk graced his rosy lips when he saw my questioning look and he shuffled back only slightly, staying close enough that when I opened my locker I could feel his breath on my face. I knew it should intimidate me, that I should run for the hills and never look back; Billy seemed like bad news. But being in this close proximity to him, so close I could smell his musky aftershave and most recent cigarette, it sent a lustful shiver down my spine.

“Hey neighbour.” He nodded towards me.

“Hi Billy.” I squeaked out.

“So, I have Math first with a Mr…. err..” He paused and I glanced up to see a look of genuine confusion cover his face, which made me let out a short laugh.

“Mr Roberts?” I questioned.

“Yeah that’s the one doll. Would you be a helpful neighbour and show me where to go?” He seemed sincere so I thought why not.

“Sure. That’s my first class as well actually.” I humoured him, offering a shy smile.

“Bonus.” He winked and held his hand out for me to lead the way.

I took a breath and broke the somewhat awkward silence as he strode next to me and I had to quicken my steps to keep up.

“So where did you move to Hawkins from?” I stole a glance and saw his expression fall.

“California.” He was short and closed me down with his one-word answer. I seemed to have hit a nerve with such a simple question and it bothered me that I had overstepped my mark. I kept my head down and we walked the rest of the way without a sound.

He followed me into the classroom and I expected him to retreat to the back of the class, away from me. But he didn’t. He stuck close by and wound his way through the desks to claim the one next to me.

I gave him another questioning look and he just smiled in response, “Thanks Princess.”

The slight hope that lifted my heart at his nickname was quickly shutdown, as he swivelled in his seat to follow the arrival of an incredibly short skirt attached to Helen Marshall; she was blond, tall, slim and oozed confidence, she had everything I was missing. She took the seat behind Billy with a flirty smug look appearing on her painted face as he leaned his muscled arms on her desk.

I rolled my eyes back to the front of the room where Mr Roberts was faffing with his notes as usual. That man was a scatter brain, but in his defence also a genius. It took him another five minutes to find himself in order, enough time for me to hear Helen’s stupid high-pitched laugh at Billy’s cheesy but charming remarks.

My stomach dropped when I overheard him asking her out. Already. He’s been here two days! Helen accepted of course, and I could just imagine the sickly flutter of her fake eyelashes as Mr Roberts grabbed Billy’s attention back to the class.

“Mr Hargrove, if we are quite done with organising Friday night plans could you face forward please.” He never had it in him to actually be mean to students, even when they deserved it.

I forced myself to not look at Billy for the rest of the lesson and managed to avoid him the remainder of the day, by sacrificing the text books I needed from my locker.

Thankfully I found Nancy at lunch, she’s been my best friend since Kindergarten, always us two against the world. However, in Sophomore year, she had gained her self assurance, figured out who she was, and now she had Jonathan in her life, after all the drama with Steve. Whereas I was still shy old me, still struggling when meeting new people or having to talk in class, and never attending the high school parties that Nancy had become so interested in, even the thought of it all made my breath quicken.

“Hey Y/N!” Nancy greeted me with a friendly smile that I always appreciated, and I took my usual seat across from her, next to Steve. Jonathan occupied the remaining seat next to Nancy.

“Hey guys.” I sighed as I caught a glimpse of Billy’s dirty blond curls across the cafeteria, he was scaring some Freshmen from a table so him, Carol and Tommy could claim it. I shook my head more to myself than anything else but I couldn’t get away with much around these three.

“What’s up with you Y/N?” Steve nudged his shoulder against mine.

All three were staring at me with concern, waiting, knowing I was getting pretty good at opening up to them. I let out a low laugh, and shook my head once again, “Honestly guys nothing, just the new guy throwing me off already. He seems so arrogant and mean, not to mention intimidating.”

“He does seem like he’s going to shake things up a bit around here.” Jonathan sounded disgruntled as he threw a glance at the now raucous table in the corner.

“Oh come on he can’t be that bad can he?” Steve lifted his head like a meerkat to search across the room, not having had the pleasure of meeting Billy yet.

“Hmph. Well he’s already got a date with Helen Marshall.” I tried to sound indifferent to my statement, shrugging it off, but I caught Nancy’s eye and she gave me a knowing look but thankfully didn’t say anything in front of the boys.

Instead she took the heat away from me and kicked Steve under the table, “Wait, Helen Marshall who Steve has been trying to ask out for ages??”

Steve look flustered, “What? No I haven’t.”

“Steve, honestly mate I’d give it up, she’s more interested in her own hair than you are with yours.” And at Jonathan’s bold, yet rare, remark, we burst into laughter.

Although my carefree moment was cut short as I was suddenly met with an amused looking Billy, as he realised I had seen him he jerked an eyebrow up, sending his silent question across the bustling room but I couldn’t answer. My laugh subsided and I focused on Nancy and the boys, chatting until the end of the hour and refraining from looking for Billy again.

Jonathan and Steve had made our little twosome a fully-fledged friendship group last winter, which was admittedly difficult for me at first. I was so used to it being just Nancy and I, so comfortable. The reality was not as scary as my brain tried to make me believe; the boys are lovely, and looking back I’m actually happy that Nancy brought them into my life. I get on with Jonathan with us both being quiet and anti-social, but then Steve helps bring out a little more talkative side I didn’t know I had, he’s like Nancy, so easy to be around. Between them and now being able to admire Billy from afar, school was my favourite place to be and it made my journey home everyday that little bit heavier.

It didn’t take long for me to realise that how Billy had been with me, he was with every girl. The smirks, winks and piercing gazes, he had half the female population falling at his feet by the end of the first week, and the guys either wanted to be his best friend or hated him. Steve had joined the latter half of the guys in school, after being shown up by Billy during basketball, apparently he didn’t want to talk about it, but word got round he’d been thrown to the floor a few times, and the glares he threw at Billy throughout the days spoke volumes.

I couldn’t deny that Billy had a certain charm about him, but I had a feeling that it was part of a false bravado, there was something he was covering for. I know because I’m an excellent observer, preferring to watch and listen, but mainly because I know I’m hiding something too.

Over the first few weeks I could see him closing his body off to people, I watched him unleash a pent-up anger in gym class and noticed the split knuckles that soon followed. His smile never quite managed to reach his eyes when he would tease me as we crossed paths, still I couldn’t manage more than a smile or sentence without stuttering over my tongue or the blood rushing to my cheeks when I met his captivating gaze.

Still, all the superficial encounters with Billy still couldn’t take me away from the dread I felt, at the thought of going home. Most people think of home as a safe haven, a place of relaxation and love and peace. Not me though. My home was not really that at all, it was a place of uncertainty and worry and fear. All dependant on how my Father was feeling on that particular day.

He had fallen into the cold hard embrace of alcohol when my Mother died a few years ago, he was always an unpleasant drunk, but now that had seeped into his personality as the vodka did constantly into his bloodstream. His words had become vicious and his actions neglectful. I stayed out of his way as much as possible which seemed to suit us both. We were both aware that when I turned eighteen, a legal adult, I would be out of there. My one saving grace was that he had never laid a hand on me, but unfortunately that soon changed.

One crisp autumn day in October I had left my Father passed out in his room knowing the night had been a long one, from the mess of glass bottles scattered around the house. I cleaned up the best I could but once I heard movement from his room I scarpered, stupidly forgetting a rain jacket, and by the end of the day the heavens had opened and the rain was bouncing off the tarmac.

I walk to and from school every day, which took me about half an hour each way, so having no alternative option I stepped out into the downpour in nothing but my drainpipe jeans, old converse, a Def Leppard t-shirt and my thick woollen cardigan. I was barely out of the parking lot when the revving of an engine could be heard over the rain, and I didn’t have to even look up to know which arrogant mullet wearing jackass it was. But instead of speeding right past me as he normally did, I heard the Camaro slow and purr next to me as I walked.

“Hey! Princess!” He did actually have to shout for me to hear him, I turned my head which let multiple raindrops access the back of my neck, making me shiver. “Come on I’ll give you a ride!”

I instinctively shook my head.

“None negotiable Princess, get in.”

I was cold, I was soaked and he had heating. I took a deep breath, a step forward and reached for the door handle.

“What are you even doing trying to walk home in this, dressed like that?” He nodded towards my drenched cardigan as his foot hit the gas pedal.

“I forgot my rain coat.” My voice barely escaped my lips, having to admit my mistake in embarrassment.

“I can see that. Do you have no one to pick you up?”

“Not really, I don’t like bothering people, and it’s not that bad anyway.”

“Sweetheart you’re literally dripping wet. And not the kind that I approve of.” My gaped mouth was met with a cheeky grin and gauging look.

"Billy!" A smile appeared on my lips without my permission and the longer I looked at Billy the more I was laughing. No one had ever spoken like that around me before and I couldn't stop myself. Billy then started chuckling at my reaction which then made me laugh more. "I can't believe you just said that, I am not that type of girl."

"Yeah Princess, I gathered that." He sighed to himself to my bewilderment.

I directed him to my house but the conversation in between didn't go too far. I was worried about making him upset again so I didn't dare ask about California, even though I wanted to know everything.

I made him stop a few houses short of mine in case my Dad was home and turned to him, "Thanks Billy, I really appreciate it." As I sat there grateful, but still soaked to my bone, not sure if I would ever feel warmth again.

"No problem Princess, anytime."

I left him with a smile and thankfully the rain has subsided slightly, so I could wait for him to drive off before making my way two houses down from where he had dropped me off. I stepped through the threshold of my front door, had barely taken a step when he was already there; bottle in hand and standing in the shadows, we never really opened our curtains anymore, "Who was that?" His voice was low, threatening.

"Who?" Mine was far too high.

"Don't play stupid with me Y/N. The boy, dropping you off. You have a boyfriend now? I thought we talked about dating." He wasn't protective, like any other Dad would be, he was controlling and his words were harsh.

"No. Not my boyfriend," My voice shook and I cursed myself, he was like a predator, he could sense weakness, "Just someone from school, gave me a ride because of the rain."

It was hopeless though, the poison had infiltrated his logic and I knew he wouldn't believe me. He took two strides towards me and before I could blink my back was slammed against my escape route, his rough hand around my throat.

"Don't, lie to me, Y/N. I better not see you whoring yourself out again, do you understand me?" Still he didn't shout, and I think that scared me more. I could feel his fingers curled around my neck, pressing into my flesh, as I tried to nod a yes.

"What was that?" He tilted his head so his ear was closer to my mouth wanting a verbal answer.

"Yes." I let out the broken word, holding back my tears, I never gave him to satisfaction of seeing my cry and I wasn't about to start today.

"Good." Was all he replied as he let go, turning away with a swig of his bottle and not giving me a second glance.

I fled to my bedroom, knowing a line had been crossed, knowing everything was spiralling downwards and the only thing that could stop it was my eighteenth birthday; but that was still six months away.

I curled up in my duvet, tears streaming down my face, sobs muffled into my pillow, wondering which of my scarves I could wear to school the next day.

I’m so nervous, please let me know your thoughts ♥

Tags: @infinitelycharmed23 @wearemightyghosts @kingbouji3 @dacremontgomerylover

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove fanfic #fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #request #please let me know what you think #feedback muchly appreciated #really nervous #writing #stranger things series #billy hargrove series

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fallenesspoetry · 5 years

Text

Master and Servant (full text)

AO3|FFN

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Nikki Bones, the Deputy Attorney General (OFC)/Donald Ressler

Warnings: Nudity, Swearing, OOC, PWP, Kink.

Summary: The late night briefing at the Attorney General’s office takes an unexpected turn.

Comments and feedback are very welcome!

Domination's the name of the game

In bed or in life

They're both just the same

Except in one you're fulfilled

At the end of the day

Depeche Mode — Master and Servant

“Gone?! How? What the fuck, Ressler?!”

Nikki Bones, the Deputy Attorney General, was infuriated.

The elections were in two weeks and a half, and her key witness was missing!

She was torn by everyone, like a fucking sex doll.

First, it was the Attorney General, an old prick. He selfishly believed he could take an advantage of his deputy because she wasn't a man.

Then—the FBI's Assistant Director and his countless minions.

Finally, even journo cunts dared to bark at her. Last time they weren't so vocal, taking kickbacks for puff pieces to face-lift the Washington's law enforcement image.

Nikki wearily sighed, leaning against a massive desk. She casually adjusted her skirt with a smooth motion, though the cloth hadn't even gone up that far.

A potpourri of case files was arranged into perfectly neat stacks on her desk.

‘Cold Cases’, ‘Wiretap Affadavits’, ‘Review ASAP’.

There was even one folder stamped ‘Top Secret’. Now they all seemed cragged, absorbing their mistress's fury.

Her body, exhausted by today's marathon from courts to judges' chambers, wanted nothing more but blissfully soak in the bathtub. The time was just right—the sun was long gone and the clock's hand froze at ‘18:00’.

Donald Ressler, the FBI Special Agent, didn't rush to answer. His frown deepened into a scowl. Not giving a word, he made himself comfortable in the armchair.

If Nikki took the anger management class, she would eat the coach. So for your own safety, it was better to keep your mouth shut.

“Valdez has a homie he's been tight with.” Nikki leaned over to get the file. “The usual—crank, dope, illegal arms.” She put the brown folder back. “He might be useful,” her voice was well-pitched, and had a slight trace of the arrogant vibe to it.

Ressler unconsciously stroked his strawberry blond hair.

It was easy-peasy when you say it. The son-of-a-bitch was worse that Thelma and Louise.

“Give us a few days, we'll bring him in.” Ressler was struggling not to yawn like a schoolboy at the boring lesson.

He had to get some sleep tonight. To try, at least.

“Tomorrow, Agent Ressler,” Nikki snapped, her fingers clawing into the light-brown polished surface.

Donald glanced at her, stifling a loud groan.

Fuck. The night shift. Again. Wasting another twenty-four hours, hoping the thug would get his doped ass home.

Narcos should have taken this case. But no, it had been shoved into the FBI's throat like a motherfucking gag. The shit didn't seem complicated at first sight: a random passer-by caught a stray bullet. But when the Bureau ID'd him, the real headache showed up.

An unlucky fella was a diplomat of the closest country-ally to the US.

The timing was the worst of the worst. And the FBI, the AG office, and all the king's men had to deal with it asap.

At this very moment Nikki, absolutely terrifying in her anger, gave Ressler chills.

For a moment it seemed that her braid, a creepy lookalike to a serpent’s head, would sink its teeth right into his...

Donald mentally shut his eyes.

Enough with watching trash at night.

Nikki was almost the same age with him. Maybe, a bit older. As a Deputy Attorney General she had gotten herself a reputation of sorts. Her stare of steel made your guts shrink into a sticky knot of iciness.

“Okay, got it,” Donald casually clipped.

Ressler hoped they were done for the day. He still had to grab a change of clothes.

“Not ‘okay’, but ‘I'll do my best, Nikki’.”

Damn these narrow-minded bullheads!

All the bumbling agents looked the same: a black suit, white shirt, fancy watch, holster, and a badge. No doubt, they even styled their hair with the same freaking hair gel.

Nikki saw her objective clearly—throw another scumbag to rot in jail and close the case.

The feds had one job.

To get her an unquestionably solid proof and a criminal to prove guilty.

But the idiots would always suck along the way, so Nikki took the rap for their constant fuck-ups.

“Remember, one way or another others will ride your back. Be better than that. Give them a hard time they deserve.”

Her grandma, Tessa Bones, was used to say that all the time.

Tessa was raised in Alaska. The harsh climate and physical labor had forged the girl's unwavering will. Soon enough Tessa had learned to stand her ground. And she had passed it to Nikki.

Nikki proved to be a great learner, because in no time half of the Washington's G-men gave her a nickname:

‘The Batshit Bitch’.

But Nikki didn't give a lick about it.

Donald almost rolled his eyes. When something went sideways all these mouthpieces would always rant and steam. He had been with the Bureau long enough to claim that.

He couldn't deny this mess didn't bother him too. It fucking did. And it had been his headache for the past few weeks.

Just yesterday Valdez had made a deal. And then, out of sudden, the next day he went dark like a fucking radio. He even knocked three WITSEC marshals out on his way.

Donald's head was buzzing with thoughts.

Something's off. What if Valdez wasn't alone? What if he didn’t actually go willingly? What if someone from his old gang took him out?.. It made sense—he rat on his own homies. And made a good deal. Everybody won. Well, up to this moment. Or maybe, the dick had cold feet and that's it.

“...the most incompetent...”

Nikki's agitated voice was drilling into his brain. She went on and on. On and on.

Donald didn't really want to listen. Anyway, he kept a good poker face, and so far it was working.

Meanwhile, Nikki kept ranting. Over and over. Like a broken record. The more she did, the more Ressler was struggling not to snap back at her.

It felt like a bomb was ticking somewhere in his brain. He could almost see the stopwatch approaching the last seconds.

Donald took a deep breath, and tried to follow the conversation.

Or, rather, Nikki's fuming.

She was scolding him like he was a helpless kitten, leaving a landmine on his mistress shiny floor. If Nikki could, she would rub his face into that. He had no doubts she actually could.

Well, fuck it all.

It wasn't the first time someone told him off for doing his job.

“You don't understand how high the stakes are,” Nikki's voice oozed with iced fury. Her hazel eyes darkened into a lifeless void, like someone cut the lights to them.

How fucking dare you?!

Ressler jumped up from his armchair, barely holding himself together.

“I’m not your punching bag, Bones!”

He drew closer to her. There was hardly an inch left between them.

A curious observation flashed at the edge of Donald's mind. Unlike others Nikki didn't avert her eyes. Quite the opposite. She gave him back the most loathsome look he had ever gotten. With interest.

Nikki fixed her eyes on Ressler, hanging onto him like he was a prey to wolf. The rich green of his eyes jogged her memory. This morning she left her cactus plant at home unwatered...

Well, look at this. The Suit could use a nozzle to cool himself off. Swollen like a porcupine, ready to throw his spines. Eyes squinted. Lips pursed tight. And the cheekbones could cut a deep wound on you.

He would get over it. He was a big boy, after all.

If she had gotten a cent each time her words hurt the men's ego, she would have been a millionaire.

Nikki shrugged. She tried to retreat, clicking her heels, but accidentally brushed the file with her hip. The folder fell off the desk, exposing a clutter of subpoenas, motions, search warrants, and god knows what else.

Cursing, Bones bent down, but Ressler beat her to it. The distance grew short between them in a few seconds.

At the very moment when they simultaneously reached to pick up the file, Ressler caught a delicate trace of mint and vanilla in the air. Sweet, yet refreshing.

How would it feel on her skin?..

‘Too many romcoms lately?’

His inner voice was asked to travel into a bunch of unpleasant places.

Arranging the scattered ‘justice salad’, Ressler put it back together in the file. He was almost ready to rise up, as he cast his glance at Nikki.

She towered over him, drumming her fingers on the desk. Was it the play of light, or was it his mind's trick, but right now Donald felt himself the tiniest gray of sand at the bottom of the ocean.

He hurried to give up the thought. Yet his brain, worn-out from the never-ending day, concluded differently.

Nikki was almost the same height as him. For an odd reason, Donald decided to focus not at giving back the file. Rather, he lagged on Nikki's dark gray pencil skirt. It seductively revealed her toned legs in sheer nylons. Some part of him wished to find out if her ankles were as tender as they seem.

A moment later Ressler had his eyes on Nikki's slim-fit pale pink shirt. It was buttoned up at her throat. The shirt was so close-fitting one could catch a glimpse of ripe breasts in a bra.

Bones would twist his cock in a knot for such indecency. Or worse.

Man, you need a girlfriend.

Unfortunately, this job wasn't relationship-friendly. You were a lucky fella, if you hit the bottle on your day off. But getting a girlfriend… To be honest, he wasn't in the mood for any long-term commitment lately.

Nikki was almost ready to go into one hot tirade about how sick she was from all this.

But she couldn't.

She was preoccupied with Ressler. He glued his eyes to her, wolfing her down like some steak from The Capital Grille!

Dear God, is such eye stripping even legal?

Suddenly her knees refused to abide by gravity laws. Luckily, there was a desk to lean against.

It felt like enormous mutant butterflies spread their wings in her stomach and below.

To Nikki's surprise, she didn't dare to put Ressler in his place. Quite the contrary—her body reminded her a thing. For the past half a year it had been only getting extra thirty minutes in the shower before bed. So much for stress-relieving.

The man to satisfy a ton of extremely compelling demands was a pain to find. And she cared for herself too much to get laid by just anybody.

Nikki made a brief assessment of the subject in front of her. Like all Quantico grads, he didn't cut a day in the gym. There was no need for him to show off his biceps muscles since one could clearly spot them through his black tailored jacket. Something told her that below the shoulders everything was right too.

Most of the time Ressler was nothing but a pain in her ass. However, as a man he wasn't that bad. Quite a pretty face, actually. Most probably, not just the face…

On one hand, if he weren't such a sass, they could have…

Hell no. If journos sniffed barely a whiff of the affair, both hers and his careers would go down the drain quicker than she come.

On the other hand, Ressler was many things, but he definitely wasn't a loudmouth.

Nikki gracefully sat on the desk. Crossing her legs, she gave Ressler an innocently confused look.

Finally, Donald rose up from the floor and returned Nikki the file.

It looked like no one was going to twist and turn his manhood—And why is that?—but the sudden change in her raised a lot of suspicions.

Could she?.. No, no way.

Ressler was used to her stepping on his toes whenever they would meet.

Bones? A crush? On him?

He would rather believe in UFOs over Washington.

“Thank you, Donald.”

Nikki didn't sound like her usual sharp self. Her voice shifted into honeyed sweetness, caressing every inch of his being. Ressler didn't register her calling him “Donald” for the first time they had been working together.

Now he was trapped by a very weird sensation. It seemed like a fluffy and extremely friendly feline had jumped into his lap, tickling him with fur.

‘That bad, huh? Getting off on kittens, ew.’

‘Fuck you.’

Meanwhile Nikki put the file away, deliberately stretching herself. A moment later she was back into her usual position, and—Damn!—crossed her legs again. Sharon Stone could have been proud.

Right now Ressler wanted nothing but to loosen his tie.

Or not.

Rip those tiny teasing buttons off her shirt... Fuck her. Hard. On that desk.

A switch flipped in his mind: the blood rushed through his veins drumming a wild beat all over his body. It thundered in the temples, making it barely possible to focus.

He prayed to all gods Bones hadn't seen his boner.

But the gods didn't give a shit about him.

Nikki curved her lips in a foxy smile. Their saturated dark shade resembled a juicy cherry, just picked from the tree.

Probably, he was overreacting.

Is it one of her games?

They had been working together for a long time. Just enough to get one thing.

You should always watch your step with Nikki Bones. She would swallow you down and wouldn't even choke on you.

Bad idea. Very, very bad idea...

“You gonna just stand there, or we gonna do it?”

Donald had barely slipped “do what”, but stopped at the last minute.

Watching Ressler, Nikki had almost rolled her eyes.

What an idiot.

She had to take matters into her own hands if she wanted to get home by seven. Or seven thirty. She wouldn't hope for more.

Nikki casually walked to the office door. She looked out to see if the hall was empty. It indeed was. Not even a janitor.

The lock clicked as she closed the door behind her, facing Donald.

“You know, Ressler, you surprise me sometimes.”

Her voice resembled a soft purr of the feline who had just had her lunch. Giving him another smile, Bones clicked her heels to the window.

Nikki could almost hear his brain rattling, doing, at least, an extremely difficult risk assessment.

For real? How'd he graduated?

Anyways, his IQ was not her concern.

Definitely not a cherry-boy. Why so tight then?

Ressler absentmindedly buttoned his white shirt's left cuff again and snugged the collar.

“Really? How come?” he wondered, nervously fixing his tie.

Nikki didn't answer. She was busy closing countless blinds on the windows of her spacious office.

Of course, one could refer to Section 7, Item 10:

“You are not to, at any circumstances, have a close relationship or sexual intercourse with your colleague.”

And you certainly shouldn't risk your neck doing it with the lead prosecutor on the case.

Something was telling Ressler that if Nikki had the chance, she would have thrown this case to someone else. Maybe, a half green lawschool grad, who would do all the dirty work.

Apparently, her boss was pretty much the same dick as his own.

Right at this moment Nikki was struggling with the last blind, the left from the door, muttering something inaudible to herself. She was almost on her toes.

When she reached for the cord again, her skirt went up a few inches. Just enough for inappropriate thoughts. This time Nikki didn't adjust it like she had done it before.

Face it: you want her.

If he read the signs correctly, the feeling was mutual.

Nikki, finally done with the blinds, turned to him.

“It's just a hook up, Ressler. Not rocket science.”

He tuned out the cheap shot.

Bones hadn't been the first one. And she definitely wouldn't be the last one.

Maybe, this was one of her kicks.

Well, whatever blows your skirt up.

“Just a hook up?” Ressler mimed Nikki's casual tone. He drew closer to her, his jacket slightly brushing her shirt. “I can't remember doing it at the Attorney General's office.”

Not waiting for her invitation, Donald pressed Nikki against the door. Their eyes met—hers, a dark roasted coffee, and his—a rich green tobacco.

Ressler barely brushed Nikki's lips with his, as she grabbed him below the belt. He unconsciously gasped when she squeezed him.

It wasn't painful. Rather, unexpected. Or maybe, most of the time there was a lot of decent women on his way.

Donald had no doubts Nikki Bones was the vicious woman every mother would protect her son from.

However, under the current circumstances, it was an advantage.

Nikki vigorously pulled Ressler close, her nails scratching the back of his head, almost clawing into the skin. She slid her hand to his groin again. Grazing his lower lip with her teeth, she kept on stroking his boner.

Her lips were awfully close. Close enough for a kiss, but Bones didn't let him. She took her time teasing him. He could feel her breath on his cheek. On his neck. On his earlobe. On his lips.

Vultures play with their food first.

Sunday school hadn’t prepared him for anything like that.

Donald couldn't shake off the sneaking suspicion Nikki had her own agenda.

You think I'm gonna beg? You wish.

In the next moment Nikki impatiently forced her tongue between his lips. She kissed him hard, like her life depended on it, almost sucking the oxygen out of his lungs.

Tired of being benched, Ressler tried again to take the lead.

He couldn’t—whenever he pulled up her skirt, Nikki would slap his hand. It hurt a bit, but Donald didn't have the time to process it—Bones would slam her lips into his. Her lipstick smeared, tasting like sour chocolate.

It was rough.

Their bodies wrestled in dominating: either of them got pressed up against the door over and over.

Nikki took, but didn't give in return.

“Bones…” Ressler hissed hoarsely, not recognizing his own voice.

“You're giving up, boy scout?” Nikki whispered, softly biting his earlobe.

Not that tough, huh?

Sucking Ressler's neck in a vampire-like manner, Nikki fought the desire to give him a hickey or two.

She knew all these dominatrix tendencies both at work and in bed were not okay. Regular folks didn't get off on any of the kinky shit she usually did… Well, truth be told, she was hardly a definition of normal.

Nikki kissed Ressler again. This time she was slow, less aggressive. It felt like taking a sip of the finest Tuscany wine. There was a lot for her to savor: Ressler's lips, full and lithe, gave into the tiniest change of pace.

Donald couldn't help but notice Bones' fervor lessened. Now her kisses were delicate, almost like any other ordinary woman he had before. He didn't get to think it over—Nikki's hand slid to his groin again. This time she squeezed and then rubbed him, not even breaking the kiss.

“Bones, if you like him, I can take my pants off.”

She didn't answer, but her left hand lurked around his waist under his jacket.

Something softly clicked.

God, no.

“Nikki…” Ressler slipped, but it was too late.

Bones smirked at him, toying with handcuffs.

Ressler unhooked his gun holster, and double-checked if the safety was on. He threw it on the closest of two enormous armchairs in front of Nikki's desk. Just in case. Russian roulette wasn't his cup of tea. Not today. And definitely not with Nikki Bones.

Nikki, laughing at Ressler's fruitless attempts to snatch the handcuffs back, slipped from his grip. Making sure Ressler watched her, she unzipped her skirt, smoothly stripping it down. The nylons went down a bit quicker. Her fingers went up, unbuttoning the shirt. At last, she brushed aside the clothes with her heel.

Everything screamed to get her laid, but Ressler just stood there, hypnotized. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a woman's strip for him before. He had. And not once. And not only in the strip club. Most women did that to entertain a man. To tease, yes; although they would let their man to call the shots later anyway.

Surely, Nikki Bones wasn't your average woman. And somehow Ressler knew—she did that to entertain no one but herself.

The message was crystal clear:

‘You don't get anything unless I let you.’

Meanwhile Nikki caressed herself. A sly smile was on her face again, when she was rubbing up her thigh. A second later her fingers snaked to her panties.

She teased him, but hadn't taken anything off.

Donald's heart pounded somewhere in his throat when Nikki, done driving him crazy, took her heels off and jumped on the desk.

She crossed her legs again.

“The loser wears them, deal?” Nikki was eyeing him like a sniper would stare at his mark.

Handcuffs or Nikki?

That was a Shakespeare-like dilemma for him now.

“Nah, that won't do.” Nikki jumped down from the desk. Hiding the handcuffs out of sight, she pulled Ressler closer by the tie.

Bones was stripping the clothes quick and smooth: the jacket was ripped off from him and thrown away; it took her less than a minute to cope with the buttons on his shirt. Finally, the belt's buckle clacked, and she forced him out of his pants.

“Much better now. One shot, boy scout.”

Nikki, sitting on the desk again, cocked her head. Swinging the handcuffs, she smirked at him.

Sadly for Donald, he hated losing. Arguments, warm-up drills in the gym, football training in college… You name it.

His handcuffs, now on Bones' right hand's index finger, dangled with a soft metallic sound.

It was so circus-like.

Unfortunately, right now Nikki cracked the whip, not him.

It occurred to him Bones must have had sadism as her major: she unhooked her bra from the front. It happened so fast—Ressler had barely blinked. Now she was fondling her breasts, her thighs spread.

Donald felt like a pet whose treat was close enough to see, but not close enough to take a bite.

He made a desperate lunge for the handcuffs.

“You sure you're FBI?” Bones wrapped her arms around him. The unpleasant metallic iciness tickled his neck.

Nikki slid down from the desk. She almost coiled Ressler in a snake-like manner, rubbing her breasts against his chest. Her nails were scraping his shoulderblades.

The handcuffs went down his spine, sending the uncomfortable chill across his back.

“You lost, boy scout.”

Bones didn’t even loosened her grip—in an instant she locked his wrists together behind his back.

Click!

Ressler jerked, but Nikki was faster. Her hand slid into his boxer briefs.

“Don't.”

He winced—she had his balls in a death grip.

Stripping them both off the rest of the underwear, Nikki pushed him into the closest armchair.

Donald was almost sore with need, when Nikki's stomach accidentally brushed his hard-on. She didn’t pay attention to that, getting comfortable in his lap.

“You'd better…hurry,” Ressler growled when Nikki was slowly stroking his chest. Tenderly. Lightly. Almost lovingly. But he knew better.

Pleasure was always followed by pain—he had learned that already with Nikki. It was sick, yet somehow satisfying.

He must be a masochist.

Donald's mind hung up sending “SOS” to his brain, and his pride hid somewhere dark, anticipating Nikki's next move. He was getting high on this game of hers—the sex was rather a bonus. BDSM wasn't exactly his kick, so he had no idea where it came from.

Nikki playfully bit his nipple, sucking on it. Wrapping her fingers around his cock, she slowly worked her way up and down, keeping eyes on Ressler. She went on like that for a few minutes as if testing his resistance. The pace changed, and Ressler, almost losing it, whimpered like a kid who lost his favorite toy.

She gave him a break. It looked like he needed it—cheeks reddened; breath—heavy. His hair was now tousled like a stray ginger cat's fur. Nikki ran her fingers through it, tugging on it hard, until she heard the angry growl. Her hand slid down to his refined neck, its firmness reminding her of Roman sculptures at The National Gallery of Art.

There was one thing Nikki was thrilled to try. Sadly, it was almost impossible to talk any man into it. As a matter of fact, Ressler didn't have much of a choice here, anyway.

Nikki kept caressing Donald, scratching under his chin as if he was her pet. Just as she sunk her teeth into his Adam's apple, a thought flashed in her mind.

Condoms.

She had no doubt Ressler was prepared for any surprise. Tugging on his hair again, Nikki slid from his lap.

Where's this damn jacket?

“Left side, inside pocket,” Donald said in a raspy voice. He hadn't caught his breath yet. Boston Marathon was a child's play comparing with all those things Bones had been doing to him.

“Glad to see your brain's still on, Agent Ressler.” Nikki was back in his lap, a condom in her hand.

Ressler glanced suspiciously at her long nails and the flimsy wrapper. Fatherhood wasn't his intention for, at least, next five years. And Nikki Bones as a mother hen… Hell, just a thought of it could make a dick limp.

“Sure you can handle it?”

Not giving him a courtesy of reply, Nikki opened the wrapper, the condom dropping out on her palm. She rolled it on Ressler's hard-on in one smooth motion.

Donald caught his breath, when Nikki saddled him. She wasn't the first to be on top of him. But surely—the first one who had been perfectly still.

She literally did nothing.

Just as Ressler tried to mouth a snarky response, he felt the tight, almost suffocating grip on his cock. Nikki didn't move an inch, yet she was getting him off. Her face was filled with sheer lust—having him helpless and handcuffed must have done the trick.

Ressler leaned back in the armchair. His arms, wrists, and hands grew painfully numb. The numbness mixed with pleasure in an odd, perversive manner, whilst Nikki tortured him, slowly swaying forward and back.

He was completely under, not giving a flying fuck about anything at this moment.

Her rhythm wasn't steady. Sometimes it was slow—Nikki would arch her back, going up and down on him. She occasionally rubbed her clit, moaning softly, almost shyly. At times like these she didn't look like her usual arrogant self.

Soon enough her pace changed. Bones was roughly grinding onto Ressler, clawing her fingers into his shoulders. She couldn't help herself, but left a few visible marks on them. Her high-pitched cry echoed across the emptied office.

Through the blurred world, framed with their bodies' heat, Ressler sometimes got a kiss or two from Nikki.

Or, rather, Nikki let him touch her, leaning towards him. She would wrap her arms around him, pressing his head to her chest. Her braid was messy, its strands tickling his cheeks.

The rich vanilla scent was all over her skin—Donald felt its bitter sweetness on his tongue. Not sure he would have the chance later, he flicked his tongue between her breasts. If Nikki wanted more, she pulled him by his hair and guided his lips to her nipples.

“Come…earlier…you're…dead.” Her voice hissed somewhere above Ressler's temple.

Nikki was riding him in such a barbaric manner, Ressler could hardly breathe out.

So good.

Dear God, it felt so fucking good.

Now and then she might have let a guy be in charge. But tonight...The absolute possession—that what got her off. The sex… Not so important.

No, it's obvious Ressler had had someone. Maybe, a few, even. But now, at this very moment, she owned him. This got her so high no dope could match it.

Hers. And no one else's.

Control was her aphrodisiac.

Bones felt Ressler was closer to the release than her. At once she locked her fingers around his neck.

Donald opened his eyes wide, his body jerking, as he hungrily gasped for air.

At this moment Nikki cried out, freeing Ressler's neck from her grip. She pressed him to herself, wrapping her arms around him.

Ressler's hair was soaking wet, a few drops of sweat dripped down his temples. The look on his face was hilariously amusing—half shocked, half doped from the aftermath.

Thanks to her it was a perfect timing.

Nikki kissed Ressler. The kiss was far more tender and delicate than she meant to. Anyway, he earned it.

“Stellar job, boy scout.”

“Stop calling me like that, Bones,” Ressler muttered, trying to move his stiffened wrists.

Nikki tugged on his hair once again, petting him like a cat. She took the condom off him, tying a firm knot at the end, and left him for a moment.

How she managed to do it with those nails was a mystery to Ressler.

Stretching his neck, Donald noticed a couple of red marks on his chest. He would be lucky if she didn't give him a hickey. Right now he wished nothing more but to take the fucking handcuffs off his wrists.

“Need a hand in here.”

Nikki was half through with putting on her nylons, not even bothering to look at him.

Finally, she raised her eyes on Ressler.

Ah, the work of art.

Each muscle in his athletic body was deliciously tensed as he tried to get out of the handcuffs.

He should put those on more often.

If she could, she would lock him in her trunk and take home with her.

Sentiments are a nasty bitch, huh?

Nikki threw at Ressler his jacket and pants.

“You kidding, right?”

“Use your mouth. You're pretty good at it.”

“Find the fucking key!”

Nikki zipped her skirt.

“The magic word.”

“Nikki!..”

She did her hair and then adjusted her shirt.

“A word, Donald.”

“Please!..”

Nikki approached Ressler. She almost licked her lips at the sight of him. Handcuffing a guy like that...

It was definitely worth it.

Bones was thoroughly going through the pile of clothes in his lap, smirking at his helplessness.

Once she quit searching, her smirk faded.

“It’s gone,” Nikki said, looking baffled.

“Gone?!”

Hiding another foxy smile, she clicked her heels to her own desk.

Today was the boy scout’s lucky day: she always kept a spare key.

Just in case.

#the blacklist #donald ressler #the blacklist fanfiction #nbcblacklist #mine

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tea-and-toblerones · 6 years

Text

Loose Change Chapter Two- I'd Love To Pop Some Tags But I've Only Got A Fiver In My Pocket

After much anticipation, chapter two is now complete! As always feedback is appreciated! I thrive off it. So, with out further ado...

I sat at my designated table, furiously scribbling notes as a way to past the time until I closed up shop. My books spread out across the surface, highlighters of every color littered between my books and notebooks. I chewed on the top of the pen as I read, something I did when I was super focused, unaware of it until the cram sessions was over. I put my pen down, rubbing my eyes as the words on the page began to blur. There was a couple patrons scattered amongst the shop, most in the same situation I was. I didn't notice how late it had gotten until they apologised for staying over closing hours as they paid for their drinks. I waved them off, bidding them a good rest of their night. I flip the open light off, before making myself a fresh cup of coffee before plopping back down at my table. I took a sip of my coffee before picking up my pen and I trudged along, deciding to finish the chapter before heading home. I heard the door creak open timidly, my eyes dragging away from the page to see Ed's face peering in.

"Er...can I come in?" His face the definition of uncertainty as he lingered, half in half out. "I know the sign says closed but...I thought I'd stop in and see how you were doing."

"Hey stranger!" My bright tone echoing through the quiet shop, "Sure, you can come in. Just do me a favor and lock the door behind you." My eyes dropping back to the page picking up where I left off, "You know you can come in while we're open right? You don't have to wait until we're closed or people leave."

I heard the door open and close again, the soft clunk of metal on wood told me he had brought his guitar case in. My eyes leaving the page again to see him stripping off his hoodie, one of the tshirts I had gave him was underneath. He scooped up his bag and case as he made his way across the room, grimacing every time his case brushed against a chair, a muttered sorry after every one. As silly as it sounded I couldn't tell if they were towards me or the chairs.

"I can't really buy anything, isn't that just loitering at that point?" Setting his stuff down beside my table.

"All you'd have to do is order water." I tell him, shuffling through the notes I made during the lecture, "Either way I wouldn't kick you out. Loads of people come in here just to study." Switching my pen out for the highlighter, dragging it across a couple choice phrases.

"Oh...I didn't realise you were busy..." His tone caused me to look up, soft and almost regretful, "I could go so you can finish studying." His hand resting on the back of the chair, caught between pulling it out.

"No, stay." I brought my foot up, giving the chair a slight push outwards, "I haven't talked to you for a while. I want to catch up. I'll be done real soon."

He slowly sat down, taking extra care to keep his hand off the table, resting them in his lap. I wonder if he was a fidgeter? Or was he worried he's mess up my clearly organized stack? Either way, his hands remained off the table, moving from his knees to under his armpits as he crossed his arms. We hadn't physically sat down and had a full conversation in a couple weeks. Our main form of communication had been notes passed between one another when I stopped by to drop off some form of food and a a buck or two. At least enough to cover his bus fare. Most of the time his notes consisted of just some sort of ridiculous commentary on the meal and what sort of interesting stuff happened during the day. For example yesterday's drop off was two pb and jelly sandwiches. The note I had today, scribbled on a piece of a brown paper sack ' I butter thank for the sandwich, they really got me out of a jam' then went on to talk about how Americans were an odd bunch, holding conversations with complete strangers.

At first I left notes asking if he needed specific things, mostly in the apparel department since we were still in the middle of quite a cold snap. He conveniently ignored that part of the note, just thanked me for the meals and proceeded to tell me about how he shared his fries with an angry looking pigeon that he was pretty sure would actually fight him over them and he wasn't sure he'd win. 'Best to stay on their good side. I don't need to piss off the birds. There's too many to fight, innit? Think you could put a good word in for me?' If I hadn't gotten a slight glimpse at his off the wall oddball humor, I'd think he was raving. I came to the conclusion he would never out right ask for certain things, it would be up to me to just guess what he would need.

He craned his neck, skimming over the upside down text, "This system you got here is really something." I could hear the wonder in his voice, I didn't need to look up to know his expression matched, "Don't most people type everything digitally now? This seems complicated and kinda unnecessary."

"Mhmm? Oh, no, it helps the info stick in my brain better than typing it all out. Call me old fashioned I guess but nothing beats the feeling of a pen gliding over the paper, your hand creating the words. Plus the feel of paper under your fingertips. Sorry, having it on a computer just doesn't work for me."

There was a smile that crossed his face. "I completely agree with you. Nothing will replace handwriting everything. Things just seem to flow easier when you use a pen. Which is why I write everything instead of type." He paused, his smile turning sheepish, "Well that and the fact I can't really afford a computer. Which is a good thing, really. Means I'm not likely to get targeted for a mugging."

I feel my eyebrows draw together as I tear my eyes away from the page. He seemed completely relaxed, his head bobbing around to some beat trapped in his head as he looked around the room. When his eyes settled on me he seemed slightly surprised at my gaze.

"Ed, be straight with me. Have you been mugged?" My concern ringing true as I stared him down. There's almost no way he's be able to handle himself in a fight. He just seemed so fragile.

"Look at me Cassidy. Does it look like I'm that well off? Do I look like I'd have anything of value?" His arms spreading wide to emphasize his point. " No. I look fairly second hand. Not worth a second glance."

He had a point. He did look pretty down on his luck. Everything he had was noticeably second hand and heavily worn. He was right, he didn't look like someone that would have anything of value. Nothing worth fighting over. Even his pack had seen better days. It was this frayed army green canvas pack, the leather straps that held it closed shown obvious wear, the holes were stretched out from the use. The whole thing looked like it was one good tug away from coming apart. The guitar case however was still in pretty good condition, apart from a couple scratches and scuff marks. It appeared that he took better care of it than he did himself.

"Well, you've got that fancy guitar. That's worth something to a strung out junkie looking for something to sell for his next fix." I point out, causing his mouth to come down in a frown.

"That is true." He pondered, his hand rubbing his chin, "But Cyril is pretty battered. You're not gonna get much out of him. He's about as broken down as I am." His fingers opening the clasps with fluidity that comes from the repetitive act. He pulled it free from its felt nest, giving it an almost loving strum, "I'm afraid he's only priceless to me."

I hadn't noticed as he played, my gaze was usually drawing to his fingers or just him in general has he bounced around. I never focused on the guitar itself. The finish had began to chip away, from the use. There were scratches covering the face of it and the back of it was a disaster zone of criss crossed scratches, most likely caused from the zipper of his jacket grinding into it. The tuning keys had lost their luster, dulled by the constant turning. He was right, It had seen better days.

"Still...just be careful okay? Some will scope you out for days, waiting for a really good haul then make their move." I could hear my tone slipping into lecture mode, the same I used with the kids I worked with.

"Aw, geez, you make it seem like I walk around with my head in the clouds." I could see that mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned forward, "You forget, I've been doing this for years now. I've gots some streets smarts by now."

I closed my book, deciding then and there nothing else was going to get done. "Don't take this the wrong way Ed but...you sorta come off as naive..."

"Yeah? So? What's wrong with that? Coming off as naive and being naive are two different things you know." I had expected him to be angry or at least annoyed, yet he seemed like he was enjoying himself, that smile still on his face, "There's nothing wrong with seeing the good in people."

"Yeah, but, aren't you worried that someone's going to come along and take advantage of your good nature?"

"If they do, it'll be a lesson learnt won't it? Even if it was the hard way, I'd've learnt something." That easy smile still across his face. It seemed nothing I threw at him was phasing him. Suddenly he straightened up from his relaxed pose, "I almost forgot, I came in for a reason!" His words tumbling out in an excited rush.

"Oh, so it wasn't just to talk philosophical views?" I tease as I cram books into my bag, "What's up?"

"I've got a gig." He was positively beaming now

"And you lead with questions about my study techniques?!" I squealed, as I knocked my bag to the floor, "That's great! When?! Where?!"

"An open mic night at...shit what was the name again..." He began rummaging through his bag, pulling out a wrinkled flyer, "The City?"

He passed the flyer over to me with a shrug. My eyes skimmed over it, nodding as I read it. I passed it back to him, watching as he crammed it back into his pack. "I've heard of a lot about City. Never been, but it pretty popular on campus."

"You know what type of vibe it has? So I know what I'm getting into?" I could see a bit of worry starting to settle behind those eyes.

"How 'bout this. We'll go drop in and get a feel of the crowd. That way when the night comes, you won't be worried about what songs you should choose."

"Okay...yeah...that's not a bad idea." He perked up at this, his smile quickly returning, "Okay, yeah. We'll think of it as recon." His transparent eyebrows wiggling. "God, you make it seem so sinister." I couldn't help but laugh as his lopsided grin as he waved me off, "All we're doing is checking it out. It's not like we're doing anything bad."

"The music industry is tough." His voice had lost all of the playfulness it had, replaced with a more sober tone, "Honestly, a tiny little thing like reading a crowd wrong could make or break me. This could be what gets my name out there and it could either be, 'Oh yeah, that Ed Sheeran, he's a real wanker playing that coffee house music at night club or Hey, That Ed kid, he's pretty good. Got a couple songs that really grab ya."

I could tell he was getting up in his head, planting seeds of doubt already. He had found one of my pens, twirling it between his fingers as he thought. I knew had to feel like he was balancing on the edge of a sword, one mistake would be all it would take to send him tumbling down. I needed to get him out of that mindset and fast. Nothing good would come from it.

"Hey, we've got a week. One week to get you prepared." My attempt at cheering him up seemed to fall a bit flat, earning me a half nod, "Look, we'll meet here tomorrow and go check it out."

"I would feel better about it if I knew what I was getting into." He may not have been smiling but he seemed in better spirits. "Tomorrow it is."

He had hung around a bit longer, turning down my offer to come back to my place for a shower and proper dinner. I did however, convince him to take a couple sandwiches, which he thanked me for and added that I really did spoil him. If this was spoiled I shudder to think of how bad off he was before I stepped in. He gave me an awkward sort of wave before turning away, adjusting his pack and heading in the opposite direction. It wasn't until I got home that I realised the busses had stopped running and he most likely walked all the way back to wherever it was he was sleeping. It couldn't have been too far since he was always at his spot by 7:45. All I could hope was that wherever he was staying was at least sheltered and he wasn't too terribly hungry. *********************************************** After a long and frustrating day I gladly flicked the open sign off, turning back towards Ed, who had settled in the corner, scribbling furiously in a small brown leather bound notebook. I remember spotting it when he was pulling his clothes out, it tumbled out, flopping out on my floor open for the world to read. He didn't snatch it up quickly, which lead me to believe that it didn't hold anything particularly personal. Once I asked him if he was ready, it snapped closed and returned to the depths of his belongings. We stopped by the apartment to drop of his guitar and bag, deciding that it would just be too much of a hassle to carry around. There was a definite reluctance, even when I assured him that if Lucca did swing by, she wouldn't touch it. I couldn't say I blamed him for his wariness. That was literally everything he owned. I would probably be just as worried as he seemed to be, leaving it a fairly unfamiliar place. He seemed satisfied with them tucked away in my closet.

If it wasn't for the group of people that had gathered outside planning that night's bar crawl, I would have thought we were at the wrong place. The outside of the building gave off an abandoned factory vibe. Really, this is the place that people keep raving about? Ed must have sensed my hesitation since he grabbed onto my sleeve, pulling me toward him and away from the door.

"I know this is the address he gave me but...are you positive this is the right place?" He sounded a bit worried, that little crease forming on his forehead.

I glanced at the building, completely understanding his doubt. It definitely didn't give off the new hip bar on the scene vibe, more of a hey this is where cows come to be turned into burgers and steak. I know you should never judge a book by its cover but come on, they could have spruced up the place a bit. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Yeah, this is the address that both you gave and google gave me..." I turned my eyes away from the building and back to him, his expression mirroring my own, "Okay, what exactly did he tell you?"

"That Thursday was like a trial run and if he likes me, most likely if the crowd likes me, he'll pay me to come in regularly a perform." He let a breath out through his nose, "Sorry I can't be more help, I couldn't wait around any longer to see if he replied again with anything extra..."

"Hold up, wait around any longer?" I could feel my face scrunch up in confusion, "Why didn't you just call him?"

"I don't really have that kinda change lying about y'know..." His eyes dropping to the ground as he shuffled a bit. Then it clicked.

"You don't have a phone do you?"

"Nope."

Of course he doesn't have a phone. How would he pay for it. I felt like an idiot, I was so used to phones being almost a necessity nowadays that it didn't even cross my mind that some people don't have them. Still, one thing about that bothered me.

"How do you talk to your family then?"

"Oh, emails. I use email for practically everything. The library lets you use their computers as long as you have a card. Which was a handy thing I learnt at the shelter." He cleared his throat, ready to change the subject off of him, "Alright, well, you ready to see if we we're being pranked or not?"

"Lead the way."

We weaved our wave through the crowd, finally spotting the sign above the door that read The City. He pushed the door open and I followed him inside, almost running into when he stopped suddenly in his tracks. With good reason. It was quick to see why it was called The City, the walls were comprised of graffiti covered brick, bright and in your face. There was actual stop lights hanging from the ceiling, the floor made to look like a road. The furniture was chic and the bar was lit with bright rope lights of reds and blues. There was so much going on, it was chaotic, it was alive, it was insane. There was only one problem.

"Cassidy...there is no way I'll be able to perform in these clothes...I want to stick out but not in this way..." People weren't exactly dressed to the nines but they were definitely not a hoodie and frayed jeans type. He turned to me, a worried look back on his face, "What are we going to do?"

"Well, first, we're gonna go find ourselves a table. Oh, they have food..." My eyes zeroing in on a girl chowing down on a huge slice of pizza, "Alright we're gonna get a table and we're gonna get us some food and we'll go on from there."

To be honest, I really didn't have much of a plan. I figured once we got here, it would all fall into place but all I was feeling right now was uncomfortable, like I didn't exactly belong here. They had the hustle and bustle down. I couldn't help but wonder if it was because it was new or because they had something special that others didn't. I spotted a table close to the stage, which was quite a bit bigger than I had initially anticipated. It must have been bigger than Ed thought to since I heard him whistle.

"That's a stage, I wasn't expecting ...jesus..." he said, full of awe. His eyes held a wistful look. "A proper stage...wow..."

After a good bit of people watching and some surprisingly fantastic food we had finally settled on a game plan. There was a bit of doubt, no, a lot of doubt on his end, especially the longer we stayed. When he discovered that they had had some pretty well known bands grace the stage all his confidence had went out the window.

"How am I supposed to compete with acts like that? Christ, I'm fucked before I've even had a chance." He moaned, stabbing a couple fries in the mountain of ketchup dismalily

"Are you kidding? Ed, you've hit gold here." I glance around to make sure nobody was within ear shot, just to be safe I leaned in, "You've got a bunch of pretentious people who thrive on up and coming musicians. They're going to eat you up."

"Yeah and probably spit me out. Come on Cassidy, I'm not ready for something like this."

"Stop with the negatives and what could go wrong and focus on what could go right. You're worried about your clothes? We'll get you new clothes. That's no issue."

"How? I've got-" He dug in his pockets, before realising they were empty. His eyes screwed shut as he thought, "A fiver and whatever change is in my rucksack."

"Well then, it's time to introduce you one of my favorite places. Thrift shops. They're insanely cheap and you can store them in my closet." I could see the hesitation in his eyes and I already knew that he view that more as a luxury. Perhaps he was right. "Look, I can get them for you. I'm positive I can get you a good looking outfit for under 15 bucks."

"I couldn't, that's too much, you've already done too much."

"If you're that worried about it, pay me back when you're rich and famous."

We wrapped things up and headed out once it hit one in the morning. I was shocked I had actually stayed up that late and Ed looked like he could go on for hours more. I wondered if he was used to getting little sleep, always sleeping on the edge, prepared for the worst. After a lot of persistence, I had finally persuaded him to stay on my couch again, planning to hit the thrift shops in the morning. I had half expected him to complain about not performing but he surprised me with his ready acceptance. It wasn't until I was in half asleep did I think that his quick agreement could have been a farce and that, like last time, he'd sneak out before I woke up. Yet, when I woke up, there he was, curled in a tight ball, the blanket pulled tight across his body, his mouth slightly open as a light snore filled the silence. ********************************************* "Oh mah GAWD, look at this!"

I heard Ed's voice calling out from a couple racks down, his head popping up, grinning from ear to ear. He was holding up the most atrocious looking bright blue paisley plaid button up that would surely haunt my dreams for weeks to come. I could only stare at him in silence, my mouth trying to form the words why and what, most likely leaving me looking like a gaping fish. He chuckled as he placed it back on the rack, satisfied with my reaction. For a split second I wasn't sure if he was seriously contemplating it or not. We had been browsing for about an hour now and in that hour I had gathered that this boy had absolutely no fashion sense at all. I decided to take up the role of personal shopper, which he said made him feel like a toff and a bit of a wanker. He had made it his mission to find every ridiculous article of clothing he could get his hands on and proudly show them off. The bigger the reaction, the bigger the smile was.

"Hey, Cass, do you mind if I call you Cass?" I shrugged, "Wicked. Look at these trainers. They're nicer than what I've got and they're cheap."

He was clutching a new looking pair of shoes, orange with three white stripes. I glanced down as his ragged, brown but not originally brown shoes. The soles had started to peel away from the material and I could remember seeing every pair of his socks having brown stains where water had leaked in. I nod my head to the cart.

"Alright, put em in. You can't keep walking around with those dead fishing smelling things you call shoes. I'm shocked your feet haven't fell off your body, to be honest with you."

His lip pulled pout in a pout as he placed them in the cart. "That's mean, my feet don't smell that bad." "I said your shoes smelled bad." I clarified as I held out a plain black sweater to his chest, eyeballing the fit before throwing it in the cart.

"I'll get hot in that on stage. Those lights put out a lot of heat."

"Who said it was for just stage? It's cold. A sweater or two wouldn't kill you. Neither would a coat."

He stopped in the middle of the racks and I didn't notice until I had turned around to ask him his opinion on a shirt. He just stared down at the floor, the most pathetic look across his face. Even his hair seemed to lose a bit of its spunk, wilting a bit.

"This was just supposed to be for performances. One or two outfits so I wouldn't look like a tramp on stage...You've got almost a cartful...Cass...I can't take-"

"Yes, yes you can." I said simply, cutting off the rest of his sentence, "Stop thinking you don't deserve things because you live on the street." I threw a pair of jeans into the cart with a bit more force than I anticipated, "I'm sick of you thinking you're less than a person. I don't know who made you think that, but I'm sorry. You're a human being. You deserve to have things like coats and warm clothes. Those aren't luxuries Ed. They're things that most people take for granted. So stop thinking you don't deserve the basic necessities."

"Why me though? They're are plenty of people on the streets." He sounded less broken, but still dejected. I breath heavily out my nose. "Every person out there with their battered sign all tell the same story. It may be worded different, but its still the same story. Hungry, homeless, give me money. Some sob story to tug on the heart strings of others. It could be true and that money could go towards a hot meal. Or it could go straight into their veins or up their nose. You though...you don't ask for money. You stand out there, with your signs that say such positive things, playing your music, making that corner of the city a brighter place. You could sing about your troubles and really hit people with a well crafted sob story in the form of a song. But you don't."

He sat in silence for a moment, mulling over everything I said. "Thanks for that...I needed to hear it. Sorry for being a downer..."

He seemed to perk up a bit, finding this flannel looking hoodie, tossing it into the cart. After another half an hour we had made not one but two complete laps around the store. There was a few more ridiculous finds, we had decided to wrap it up and head home. As I was pulling out my card to pay and Ed placed the bags in the cart, I heard the lady behind us make a snide comment to her shopping partner about how he should feel like less of a man for a woman buying his clothes. I had seen them throwing looks our way as we browsed, muttering under their breath and I had had enough.

I slapped my card down on the counter, whirling around to see, yet again, a hurt looking Ed, his hand hovering over one of the bags. "Excuse me," I smiled the biggest, falsest smile I could muster, "but I think I found your nose in our business. So how this. Why don't you collect it and your bad attitude, shove it in your designer bag and move right on along." I spun on my heel, thanking the cashier for my card, bidding them a good day, snatching the bags out of the cart, brushing past the ladies, "May Karma bless you three fold."

I walked out, Ed almost having to jog to keep up with me as I made my way across the lot. "The nerve of them." I tug my trunk lid up and start throwing bags in, "Just who do they think they are? Seriously."

"Cass, it's okay, really." I could tell he was just trying to calm me down, although it was having the opposite effect.

"No, it's not okay. Nothing gives a person the right to say such ridiculous things for the sole purpose of hurting someone."

"But it is pathetic Cass.” He shrugged, seemly undefeated, “I should be able to pay for my own clothes. It is what it is. I'm grateful and I really don't care what a couple of strange old women, who we'll never see again, think. It shows their character, not ours." His eyebrow cocked upwards, "Though I will say, you handled that quite well."

"I have to deal with a lot of angry parents. And kids. It's a skill i've developed over the years of working at the summer camp." I slam my trunk closed, "Pushing that aside, we can get these back to my place, throw them in the wash, Yes, I'm washing them," I saw his mouth fly open, in protest, "After that, all you'll need to focus on is what you'll play."

"Oh, all I'll need to do. That's only the hardest part." A smirk creeping across his face, "We've got a little less than a week to prepare. Plenty of time to come up with some sort of set list." His hands rubbing together, "Now the real work begins."

#ed sheeran #teddy sheeran #code ginger #ed sheeran fanfic #Ed sheeran fan fic #fanfic #ed sheeran fan fiction #original writing

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fromthesociallyawkwardwithlove · 7 years

Text

Wasn’t expecting that (Part 1 of 2)

— Wasn’t expecting that (Part 1 of 2)—

Summary: Based off the song ‘Wasn’t expecting that’ by Jamie Lawson. Song about the reader and Bucky’s long happy life together, it is all written in third person as I thought that was the easiest way to write it and generally it made more sense that flicking between the different points of views all the time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Bucky being self-conscious, anxiousness and Fluff

Words: 1,928

Note: Please feel free to send constructive feedback my way to help me to improve because this is the first time I’m writing here on this Tumblr so I hope that it is alright. Tagging @captainrogerss because i love her writing and her blog.

The bar in Brooklyn was packed full of bodies, everyone danced to the beat of the music from all kinds of genres, they were popular songs so people sung along loudly as they moved around the large room. Up a case of curving metal steps was a VIP area, it was normally filled with posh rich kids but today it held some of the greatest heroes of New York trying their hardest to unwind from a difficult week of missions. “So have you got yourself a date for Tony’s Halloween party Buckaroo?” Natasha asked the dark haired man who was more commonly known as The Winter Woldier.

“Nat, can we not talk about this right now.” Bucky said rolling his eyes at her desperate attempts to set him up with some girl that would run at the sight of the arm that he had hidden beneath a leather jacket. “I’m going to go and get a drink, want one?”

“Beer please.” Natasha requested smiling as she held up her empty bottle shaking it to show it was empty, he began to walk down the large staircase to where the bar was located this place was packed. Bucky was beginning to get to the end of his tether with people grabbing him because he was well known or the fact he came from the VIP area. He pushed his way to the front of the bar and leaned across trying to get the attention of the bartender who was currently across the other end of the bar chatting to someone.

You then turned around and smiled at him, he felt the entire world stop, his heart pounded in his chest and his breath was taken from him, you were beautiful. For a moment he forgot himself and where he was and he wondered how someone as beautiful as you could hold his eye contact and not shy away from the evil inside him. You walked over to him and he was transfixed by how your hips swayed from side to side as you walked an apron tied around your waist highlighting your curvy figure.

“Hey Handsome, what’s your poison?” You asked as you wiped your hands on your apron, he could feel how his metal arm whirred and vibrated under his jacket, he managed somehow to stumble out his order and you headed off to sort it out and he watched how effortlessly you worked and still managed to look gorgeous even doing the simplest of things. You put his drinks on the bar and looked at him with a beaming smile, he paid with his gloved hand and You then went to get his change.

“You’re beautiful.” He blurted out before his hand could cover his mouth he had never been this forward since the 1940s when girls had flocked to his side and fallen at his feet, but for some reason you was different, you made him feel like he had done back then rather than the man overwhelmed with anxieties and nightmares.

“Thank you.” You felt your cheeks heat up, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “Though I didn’t expect it from the most handsome man in the bar, you’ve got every pair of eyes on you.”

“There’s only one pair that I’m interested in and I’m looking at them right now.” You were now a deep shade of red, working the type of jobs you did you often would receive compliments on your body type or how blessed you were in one department or another but for some reason he was different, his compliments didn’t come across as creepy or weird.

You knew you would kick yourself later for doing this but you grabbed a pen from behind the bar and lent forward grabbing his ungloved hand you wrote your name and number of the back of his hand, when you looked up he was so close to your face you couldn’t help but press your lips to his cheek, you moved back and took your bottom lip between your teeth nervous about his response but he smiled it calmed you down. You both stood for minuet just looking at one another until some cleared their throat beside you and you began taking their order, your mind still raised thinking how your morals had been placed aside as soon as you had laid eyes on his stormy eyes and chiselled jaw.

Bucky blinked and he was upstairs stood next to Natasha, Steve and Sam he was on cloud nine and was no longer interested in the whiskey in his hand but your eyes that he had been entranced by down stairs, he was falling for you and he hadn’t even had more than one conversation with you. “I spy with my little eye a number on old man’s hand?” Sam asked looking at his hand.

“A bartender downstairs kissed me; Y/N had the prettiest eyes id ever seen.” Bucky’s brain was still mush, he just stood for a moment he could still feel your lips on his cheek, your hand on his as you wrote your number you had soft hands compared to his rough, calloused hand.

“Anyone want a round of drinks?” Sam joked, Bucky just looked over and began glaring daggers into his back. “Chill, Jeez, It was a joke.”

———————

Bucky had texted you that morning and asked you to come to a Halloween party that was happening later that day at the Tower and you had accepted. Now he stood in his bedroom in a replica of his old army uniform and he could feel himself getting more and more nervous. Bucky had his hand on full display and he worried it would put you off when you saw it that you would realise the monster that he was but he knew you had to see. He paced the floor of his bedroom for a few moments longer before he decided to head out of the comforts of his apartment and into the main common room in the tower all his friends were in costumes and all that was left to do was to wait for you to come.

The party had begun at exactly 9 and Bucky had been disappointed when he hadn’t seen your smile instantly but his nerves had skyrocketed since as it was now 9.30 and you still hadn’t shown up he was clockwatching, anxious for your arrival. Then the lift doors opened again for the hundredth time that night but this time Bucky was overwhelmed with something other than disappointment.

You made your way out of the lift you were instantly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people but thankful that everyone had dressed up too on the way you worried that a Halloween party for the rich and famous meant no dressing up and you would arrive only to be ridiculed. What you hadn’t realised was Bucky’s eyes were trained on you, the way that your hips swayed, how your eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh as you wandered to him looking as angelic as your costume. “You are truly breath taking.” He announced as you got close enough to him.

“I could say the same Sergeant.” Bucky let an inhuman noise leave his lip, for some reason your voice calling him by his rank had his mind wandering to sinful things.

“Want a drink?” He asked and you nodded eagerly, you were as nervous as Bucky and had already had a small amount of alcohol to convince yourself that this wasn’t a bad idea. “What’s your poison angel.” He smiled repeating your words from last night had eased your mind slightly, he must have gone over the night as much as you had wondering if this had just been a fleeting flirtation that went too far too fast or if it was something more.

“Well Bucky why don’t you surprise me.” Bucky walked behind the bar and he picked two glasses and placed them on the bar, he poured out two whiskeys and that’s when you noticed he had a metal hand. The metallic fingers were wrapped around the neck of the bottle and you found yourself watching it closely in awe as the joints moved and shifted flawlessly, Bucky notice where your eyes were focused and he placed the bottle down trying to hide his hand from your view. Then what you did surprised him, your hand went to his metal one and you moved it so that it was now closer to you, your fingers caressed the plates of metal, you had never seen something like it, it looked as though it were a hand and it moved as a hand would but it was cold and smooth to the touch. You then did something he hadn’t ever seen anyone do and you turned his hand over placed your lips to his metal palm.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that.” Bucky remarked.

“Sorry for being so forward yesterday, sorry for being like it today. I just don’t know why I am how I am with you.”

“Y/N don’t apologise, I fell the same, I just have never had any person I liked act like this with my arm.” He said motioning to the hand that was in your grasp.

“I don’t know why it’s amazing.” In that moment Bucky knew that you were different from many people he had been with that feared it.

———————

As the sun rose in the sky light shone through the windows and danced across your bare skin, Bucky was already awake and was just watching as you slept soundly your body peaceful, rising and falling as you took relaxed breaths. Bucky’s metal fingers grazed softly over your body, his lips gently grazed over the marks that he had left along your collarbone last night. In his large bedroom clothing was scattered over every visible area, a pair of wings were laying against one of the large windows that overlooked the park, a military cap hung on the bedframe and a pair of underwear on the light fitting. “Frumoasă.” He whispered as he peppered kissed along your shoulders and to your arms.

“Well I wasn’t expecting to wake up like this. What does Frum…oasa mean?” You asks turning over to face him your body was gorgeous every curve, every mark that your body had gained when you had grown up, the dimples on the back of your thighs every mark on you was beautiful like stars in the sky the more he saw the more beautiful you were.

“It means beautiful in Romanian.” His fingertips still slowly roamed over your body and you buried your nose into his unclothed chest, you pulled back again to get a better look at him when you noticed the jagged scar that connected his metal arm to his chest, you didn’t ask how he got it or why he had it your just looked at it. “Does it make you feel uncomfortable.” With that silly comment you brought your fingers up from your side and began tracing the scarred pink skin, you then leant forward again and placed a kiss where the new metal and his body met.

“Does that answer your question?” He wondered just how long this would last, because how did he deserve someone as beautiful as you. “I love all of you.” you mumbled into his chest but thanks to his enhanced hearing he heard it all and he kissed the top of your head.

“I love all of you too.”

Read Part 2 Here

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narisjournal-blog · 7 years

Text

Through the Pain

Dean x Reader (platonic)

Angst

Word Count: 5,231

A/N: This is my late entry for @greenappleeyes 1k follower challenge. My prompts were ‘Believer’ by Imagine Dragons and ‘Whatever has broken your heart, know that I am here to listen.’

Thank you to Nicole for being so patient with this, and for letting my husband join in and write his own fic too. (His is actually better) You can read this here.

I don’t think this is my best work, and there’s so much more I could explore with Dean and with this song, but it has been really interesting to write. I’ve not really written with prompts before. Please give me some feedback, I want to know what you lot think.

***

The trees blurred in front of you as you ran. You were in so much pain, blood gushing from the wounds you held tight with your hand, but you ran on instinct.

You wouldn’t end up like your brother. You had come too far and been through too much. You could hear the blood pulsing in your ears and the edges of your vision were going dark.

You kept your legs moving, not daring to look back and see if you were still being pursued.

You emerged from the trees to a dirt path, gasping for breath.

A man with a dog turned and gasped at the sight of you.

You staggered to him and gripped his clothes as you slid to your knees.

With your last breath of consciousness you choked out the words, ‘Call him.’

Then the world turned black.

***

The motel room was quiet. Dean sat with his feet up, ankles crossed on the table as he cleaned his gun. He focussed on his steady fingers working the cloth into the grooves of the cool metal. He tried not to think about Lisa and Ben. It was easier said than done. He couldn’t stop wondering if he should have let Cas remove them from his memory too. The thought made his stomach lurch.

He felt his phone buzz against his thigh before his ringtone began to sound, cutting through the heavy silence.

He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. Unrecognised.

‘Hello?’ He answered cautiously.

‘Is that Dean?’ The voice on the other end said.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

‘Depends who’s asking.’

'It’s just… I’m… look, there’s a girl. She’s been attacked, she’s covered in blood and she collapsed right in front of me. Your name and number are scrawled across her hand. I figured you’d wanna know.’

Dean hesitated.

'My name and number? Wait a minute, this girl. Who is she?’

'I dunno. Dark hair, maybe in her twenties?’

Dean racked his brains. Didn’t sound like Clair.

'She’s in the ambulance now. They’re taking her to hospital. Look, man. I dunno what’s going on, but I just thought you should know. I’ve called you. I’m done.’

'Wait wait wait,’ dean garbled. 'Which hospital? What attacked her?’

There was a click and three beeps.

Dean ran his hand through his hair.

Why would some random girl have his name and number on her hand?

His phone buzzed and he opened a text message. It contained the name of a hospital about an hour’s drive away.

He shoved it back in his pocket and replaced the loaded chamber of his gun.

'Sammy!’ He called. 'Think I might have a case. You comin’?’

***

The blackness swirled around your mind. It was peaceful and empty. Still, you couldn’t fight the nagging feeling buried somewhere deep beneath the fog. This wasn’t over and you had to fight.

Somewhere far-off, in the distance that existed outside your consciousness, a steady beep pulsed and threaded through your coalescing thoughts.

The scene unfolded in your dreaming mind, clouded by a haze of regret. Was this where it had all gone wrong?

You had spotted him almost instantly across the crowded bar. Head in his hand, slouched over a grimy table on his own and nursing a glass of amber liquid you assumed was whiskey. Empty glasses littered the table.

You sat down heavily across from him.

'Something on your mind?’ You asked.

He took a sharp intake of breath and his shoulders tensed.

'Why don’t you mind your-’

He stopped when he looked up at you. His eyes travelled over you and he frowned.

'You are definitely not old enough to be hanging out in a shit hole like this.’ His speech was a little slurred, but not as much as you would expect considering all the glasses.

'Well, clearly no-one cares enough to throw me out,’ you retorted, looking around at the few scattered drunks and bored-looking bartender.

Dean sighed heavily and turned his attention back to his drink.

'Anyway, I’m not here for the liquor. I’m here for you.’

You fixed your eyes on him, trying to get a read on him.

You had been told he was the best man for the job. You had been told about the Great Dean Winchester who had clawed his way back from the dead and would jump at the chance for a case.

As you eyed him, you wondered if this was the right Dean Winchester.

'Look, sweetheart. Firstly, you can’t be more than, what, seventeen? And secondly, I’m- ’

'Oh for fucks sake, I’m not hitting on you. Why is that always the first thought?’ You rolled your eyes.

He looked back up at you and narrowed his eyes.

'Just cut the crap. I don’t want whatever you’re selling. Just fuck off.’

He drained the rest of his glass and stood up, heading back towards the bar.

This was bullshit. Hero stories were always full of crap. If you hadn’t been so desperate, you would’ve left him to drown his sorrows and moved on.

But you were desperate.

You gave it a few minutes, watching him from where you were. He ordered another drink and checked his phone.

… 'my brother died.’ You said simply, sitting down next to him again.

'Yeah? So did mine. That s'posed to make us besties? I told you, back off alright?’

You blinked at him.

Nobody had told you Dean Winchester was an asshole.

'Look,’ he said, softening ever so slightly. 'I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t help you.’

His callous disregard got you fired up. 'You don’t know what I want yet,’ you said through gritted teeth.

'Not interested,’ he added, turning away from you and draining his glass.

Your fist clenched against the bar.

'He was killed by some kind of monster. They told me it was a bear but I saw it. He was all I had left. I’ve been looking for you for months.’

The words hung in the air and you thought maybe now he would at least show some humanity.

Dean sighed heavily.

'You wasted your time, princess. If I buy you a drink will you go away?’

You only stared.

'You are Dean Winchester, right? Notorious supernatural hunter?’

'Dunno what you’re talking about, sweetheart. I’m a mechanic. And you’re clearly crazy.’

He caught the bartender’s attention and held his glass up, indicating two fingers.

'Why are you being like this? I was told you would jump at a case.’

'You were told wrong. I’m a family man and I look out for me and mine. That’s it. So unless you got a car you need fixin’, leave me the hell alone.’

The bartender placed two shots of whiskey down between them with a clink.

Dean pulled one towards him and pushed the other across the bar to you.

'Drink and then go. We’re done here.’

You exhaled roughly. 'You know, for a family man you sure are an asshole,’ you said. 'I’m sorry I wasted my fucking time.’ You pushed the whiskey back towards him and walked away.

***

Dean stood at the door of the hospital room leaning against the door jamb.

His throat had tightened up and he found himself frozen.

'Do you recognise her?’ Sam asked behind him.

Dean couldn’t answer. If he did he was afraid Sam would hear the crack in his voice.

Seeing you lying there with wires sticking out of you had caught him off guard.

You hadn’t changed much, except you looked older. Thinner, maybe.

He remembered the first time he had met you.

Fuck, he had been an asshole. Broken, lost in his life and tired of the monotony of how things had panned out; but still an asshole. There was no excuse to have treated you that way.

The beep of the heart rate monitor gave a steady pulse, cutting through the silence.

He had thought about you later that night, when he couldn’t sleep.

To his shame, he thought firstly about the pull of a case.

He loved Lisa, he really did. And he loved Ben like he was his own. He had always dreamed of this apple pie life.

But it had never been an acceptable pay-off for losing Sam.

He had sworn off doing cases, keeping the danger away.

But what put him off most about taking the case was you.

His heart had sunk when he looked up and saw this young girl looking back at him. He knew from the way you approached it would be about a case. You said yourself you weren’t interested in the liquor.

He had thought about himself at that age, already elbows-deep in the blood of the supernatural, raised in tragedy and nurtured by pain with no other future in line for him.

If he knew anything about you in that moment, he knew you could have a better life than he had. There was still a degree of innocence in your eyes; The kind of innocence he saw in Ben’s eyes. The world needed more innocence.

He told himself that’s why he had been so dismissive and played dumb. He told himself he had wanted to put you off the whole hunting thing and deal with your brother’s death in a healthy, normal way.

Not that he knew anything at all about that.

So at first he had thought it was his conscience playing tricks on him when he looked out of the window and saw you stood in his front yard in the dark.

He met your eyes and realised you were not a mirage.

He rolled his eyes and dragged himself up. He glanced up the stairs and listened for any signs of stirring, but there was only quiet.

If you were coming to his house now, he had to deal with this.

He closed the front door carefully, then stormed towards you.

'Not ok. Not at all. I told you, back the hell off.’

'You’re a hunter,’ you said, standing firm. Your arms were folded across your chest. 'You’re lying to yourself.’

'Don’t-’ he started, but you cut in.

'Do you really think that hiding behind this family man bullshit is gonna keep the monsters at bay? Does the supernatural world stop because you decided it should?’

He now stood about a foot away from you, trying to intimidate you into leaving.

'Don’t you dare tell me what you think I should be. You don’t know me. You’re trespassing. Get off my yard.’

'Why won’t you help me? Is there not even a shred of compassion left in that stone cold heart? I thought you might understand because you lost your brother too.’

'Do not talk about my brother.’

'Please,’ you said, not hiding the desperation in your voice. 'I know I can’t bring him back. All I’m asking for is your help. Anything.’

You unfolded your arms and took hold of his arm. He towered over you.

He regarded you for a moment, then rubbed his hand over his face. He stepped back and half turned, glancing back at the house warily.

He turned back to you.

'Look, kid. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Choose a better life than I had and stay away from all this crap. Like you said, it won’t bring him back.’

'You’re full of shit, Dean,’ you spat at him. He shook you off his arm.

'You’re making this really fucking difficult,’ he answered through gritted teeth. 'How the hell did you find me, anyway?’

You shrugged. ‘And yeah I’m making it difficult because I want you to snap the fuck out of this fairytale idea that nothing bad happens anymore. People need you, Dean. I need you.’

'Kid, I don’t even know you. But you can be more than this. Your brother died and it sucks. But you have a choice to live out your life. When I was your age… I never had a choice.’

'And yet here you are, with a wife and kid regardless.’

'Ok, she’s not my wife. And he’s not my kid. And so long as my brother is burning in Hell, I’ll never be out. Not really.’

As if realising what he had just said, he glanced back at the house again.

He lowered his voice. 'I love her, and I love him like he was my own, but we’re just making the best out of this. But you? You could have it all. You have a choice.’

'Even so, I still choose to hunt down this bastard. And it’s my choice to make. This is my brother! He is the fucking world to me, how can you not understand that?’

You were shouting again.

'Keep your damn voice down,’ Dean snapped at you. 'This is a nice neighbourhood and people are sleeping.’

'Well while people are sleeping peacefully, monsters roam the night. And here you are, telling me to let it go. You’re full of shit,’ you repeated.

'Maybe I am,’ he said. 'But it ain’t got shit to do with you. For the last time, I am not gonna help you. You need to leave.’

When you didn’t move, he wrapped his large hand around your wrist and yanked you. You stumbled and moved with him, your legs scrambling to carry you as he dragged you away from his house.

'Dean,’ you pleaded.

He let you go and pointed out into the street.

'Go. Before I go get my gun.’

You cradled your wrist where he had grabbed you and looked up at him with disbelief.

'You really have snapped, haven’t you. Your brother’s death really messed you up didn’t it?’

'Go!’ He shouted.

'You’re broken.’

'If I ever see you again you’ll be fucking sorry.’

He had turned and stormed back to the house. And you had left.

And he had never seen you again.

Until now.

***

He sat down gingerly by the bed. He regarded you for a long moment.

'Dean?’ Sam said behind him.

'Yeah. Yeah I recognise her,’ Dean answered finally, defeat shaking his voice.

He ran his hand over his face, perhaps a subconscious effort to replace the mask that had shifted temporarily.

Sam saw straight through it.

His voice softened. 'Who is she Dean?’

He inhaled deeply, watching your chest rise and fall.

'She’s someone I should have helped a long time ago. But I didn’t. And now…’ he indicated the hospital bed and your current predicament.

Sam nodded. But he didn’t dwell.

'So do we know what we’re dealing with?’

Dean inhaled, gathering himself to focus.

‘Werewolf.’ His voice was gruff and short. ‘Pretty sure. Which makes this whole thing worse.’

Sam cocked his head in question.

‘A fucking werewolf, Sammy. I coulda given her silver bullets. That’s all she needed. Silver fucking bullets.’

Sam ran his hand through his hair. ‘Ok. Well, we’re here now. What do we know about this werewolf? Is there a pack? I didn’t have time to research thoroughly, but all I found was a report of one body showing up. Animal attack they say, but when is an animal attack ever an animal attack?’

Dean huffed a humourless laugh.

‘Did she say anything back when… when you knew her? Do we know who this thing is?’

Dean shook his head. 'Not unless she wakes up.’

Sam huffed out a sigh. He closed the door and came to the other side of the bed.

‘She got away, so she knew something about what she was dealing with,’ he said.

Dean folded back the cover carefully, examining the dressing on your wound. He noticed several other claw marks on your arms.

‘This isn’t her home town. She tracked it here.’

‘Ok. So this is likely not a newborn then?’ Sam mused.

‘Exactly. And he’s being careful, which means he’s self-aware. But not above killing folk.’

‘Which means-’

‘Which means silver bullets,’ Dean cut in. ‘Let the bullets fly.’

He narrowed his eyes, focussing on the one thing he knew how to do; killing a monster.

Sam cleared his throat. ‘Dean, I mean… do you wanna sit this one out? I’m sure I could-’

‘What are you nuts? I wanna gank this thing. Fuck, I owe her that much.’

‘Ok, but I mean… you’re dealing with a lot right now. It would be perfectly fine if you-’

‘No, Sam. Fuck, do you even know me at all? My whole life, my drive – it came from pain. Pain is what keeps me focussed and it’s what keeps me fighting, so let those fucking silver bullets rain.’

Before Sam could respond, his phone began to ring. He checked it.

‘Sherriff,’ he said simply and left the room as he answered the call.

Dean felt his demeanour crumble now that Sam wasn’t there. He sank into the seat by your bed, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.

The steady beep of the heart monitor was slow compared to the pounding in his own chest.

He made himself look up at you again, regarding your peaceful face as though he was staring down his own mistakes.

Your life could have been better, he realised, if he had just helped you. Killed the damn werewolf and then you could have moved on. Instead you had tracked this werewolf unequipped for God knows how many years, probably from town to town. Perhaps this was the first time you had confronted it, he thought.

And you had been so desperate, you turned back to him – the pathetic, angry drunk who had dragged you off his yard all those years ago.

And where had it got him? He was left here yet again in the only life h knew, the pain of what he had sacrificed making him believe in some greater purpose he could never quite pin down. But it was where he belonged. He should have known that.

The heart monitor started screaming and you gasped, making Dean jump up and move closer to your side.

You blinked, looking around the room to try and make sense of where you were. When the first face you saw was his, you filled with relief. His green eyes watched you intently.

‘Hey, hey it’s ok. I’m here. You’re ok,’ he said. He took your hand as you reached out for him.

Your eyes took in the freckles across his nose and the dark shadows under his eyes. If it was possible, he looked even more broken than before. And yet somehow more focussed.

You never thought you would see that face again, except when it plagued your dreams; the man who had left you alone to fend for yourself in a world you had no idea how to navigate.

You were mad at him. His abandonment and dismissal had shaped much of how determined you were. That and the loss of your brother were your drive.

But right now, his face was the only one you wanted to see. If he was as good as the stories said, this Werewolf should be nothing for him to kill. The end was finally in sight. There was light at the end of a long, traumatic tunnel.

‘Dean,’ you choked out. ‘You came.’

‘Yeah. It took me long enough.’ He still held your hand in his. His grip was soft and much gentler than your last encounter with him.

You sighed and smiled, the relief flooding you once again.

‘We’re gonna get this son of a bitch, ok?’ he said, his voice low and gravelly.

The door pushed open and you both looked up.

‘So I think I might have an idea where…’ Sam started as he walked in, then stopped when he saw you were awake. ‘She’s awake. You’re awake. Hi, I’m Sam,’ he added.

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach and you weren’t sure what emotion it conveyed. You looked to Dean.

‘Sam?’

‘Yeah. He’s uh… he’s back, I guess. Long, weird story.’

You couldn’t talk right away while you processed how that was even possible. So Sam was back from the dead? And Dean was sat here now, after all these years, ready to help because his family was complete again?

You clenched your jaw. Jealousy. That was what you were feeling. You tried to shake it off. This was a good thing. You should be happy for him.

‘You must be very happy,’ you said, trying not to let your voice shake.

Dean let go of your hand and scoffed. ‘Happy? With his whining and farting? Sick of him already.’

‘Thanks, Dean,’ Sam said bitterly.

But you noticed the glimmer of sadness that remained in Dean’s eyes even as he joked.

‘I think I may know where this werewolf is hiding out,’ Sam said, sweeping the conversation on.

Your eyes lingered on Dean a little longer. He looked at the floor.

Maybe he was someone who was destined to be unhappy. He had his brother back. The person he loved most in the world had died and left him heartbroken, now he was here as you lived and breathed. What else could… and then it struck you.

The wife and kid.

You realised nobody was talking and both brothers were looking at you.

You cleared your throat. ‘What? Sorry. I’m still kind of waking up.’

Sam ran his hand through his hair. ‘Sorry. How are you feeling?’

‘Confused. Exhausted. How did you… but you died?’

‘Oh right. That.’ Sam looked to Dean. Dean shrugged. ‘Friends in high places, I guess,’ Sam said, looking at the floor so his hair fell over his face. There was a little shame in those eyes, you thought.

‘You gonna explain?’

Sam hesitated, but Dean jumped in.

‘Look, we’re buddies with an angel. Yeah it’s weird. Welcome to huntin’, sweetheart.’

He ran his hand through his hair attempting to act nonchalant, but you couldn’t ignore the weird look the brothers exchanged. Because they knew what you were thinking.

‘What else can you tell us about this werewolf?’ Sam said, before you could dwell any further on his return from the dead.

You sighed. You were wasting time already, so you pushed the rest aside for now.

As you filled them in on the last few years of experience, they seemed to absorb it all as though it was commonplace. The way they discussed the details and formed a plan in less than twenty minutes showed you just how good they were as a team; how close they were and in tune with each other, even if they did bicker over some of the finer details.

And you slowly began to understand the level of pain that Dean had to have been in when you had first met him.

But even now, there seemed to be trouble in paradise.

‘Dean, are you sure? What we talked about before – I can do this if you wanna stay here with her. You’ve been through-’

‘Dammit Sam!’ Dean snapped. The anger that erupted had clearly been building over some time. ‘I told you, I’m gonna kill this fucker. Stop tryna over complicate this.’

Sam threw his arms up. ‘I’m just tryna help,’ he said and stormed out.

‘I’m not sitting this out,’ you said. ‘I’ve worked too hard-’

‘What did you say?’ Dean cut in. ‘You think you’re gonna come along on a hunt with your guts sliced open?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re staying right here. Let us handle this.’

‘Dean, I-’

‘No. I let you down once before. I’m not gonna let you throw your life away again. It ain’t happenin’. This is my fault. I’ll take care of it.’

He was doing it again. He was trying to tell you what was best for you even after having left you out in the cold with nothing but your pain to believe in. For so many years he had been absent. He had been the echo of the hope you once had at freedom.

He had been the almost-father-figure who failed you.

‘You’re damn right, it’s your fault! Why the fuck wouldn’t you just help me? I was alone. I had NOTHING. I had no-one. But you had your perfect little family and I was such an inconvenience.’

‘Don’t talk about them,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t fucking talk about them, not now.’

You looked at him mouth agape.

‘Are we really doing this again? Don’t you ever fucking learn? There is more to the world than just you and your family.’

Green eyes shot daggers through you. ‘That’s rich coming from you.’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘I’m done. You’re staying here, end of discussion.’

He began to walk to the door.

‘Dean. You can’t just walk away every time a situation gets tough. You can’t just up and leave and never deal with it.’

He turned back to you. ‘And what the fuck do you know? Sometimes walking away is the best thing for everybody! Sometimes the only way to keep people safe is to walk away!’ he shouted.

Silence hung in the air between you. You realised you had hit a nerve. This had got out of hand.

You tried to soften your voice. ‘Dean, something happened, I can tell.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever has broken your heart, know that I’m here to listen.’

He scoffed. ‘Broken my… broken my heart?’ he said incredulously, his voice raising. ‘We’re hunters. We don’t get time for a broken heart. Yeah sure, I’m broken. Maybe I always have been. I was broken from a young age. Bad stuff happens. You lose people. But the bad stuff keeps comin’, so you gotta keep fighting. That’s all I know.’

‘Except when you have a wife and kid,’ you said and instantly regretted it. He slammed his fist into the wall behind him. You thought he might yell at you again but instead he just looked at you, emerald eyes so full of pain it hurt you to look at. His lip trembled ever so slightly.

After a long moment, he ran his hand over his face and sat down. ‘They’re gone.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘I mean they’re alive. Just better off thinking they never met me.’

‘You left?’

He shook his head again. ‘They were kidnapped by demons. We got them out, but I realised they would never be safe while they were with me. Their memories were wiped. You don’t get out of this life. You don’t get to throw in the towel and settle down. You were right and I should have… I should have fucking listened.’

You shuffled closer to him, wincing at the pain in your gut but pushing through it. You rested your hand on his shoulder.

You tried to think of something comforting to say, but couldn’t.

‘You should have,’ you said instead.

He looked up at you, disbelief in his eyes. But then he smiled and shook his head.

‘Dammit,’ he said softly. He ran his hand through his hair.

‘Look,’ he said after a long silence. ‘I can’t bring your brother back. I can’t bring back all those years I could have saved you from. What I can do is kill this motherfucker. Will you let me do that for you?’

You sighed. ‘What about the angel?’

‘What?’

‘You say you can’t bring him back. What about the angel? He brought Sam back, right?’

‘Yeah, but it was messy. Really fucking messy and Sam might never recover from what he went through, not really.’

‘Ok, but my brother didn’t die dragging Lucifer back to Hell.’

Dean shook his head. ‘It’s been years. Maybe it’s time to accept it and move on.’

‘Oh fuck off. Did you move on? How did that fucking go? Oh yeah, that’s right. You got your brother back from the dead. So don’t fucking lecture me about moving on,’ you snapped.

Dean had no answer for you.

Right on cue, Sam re-entered the room with a coffee in his hand.

‘Dean, we need to go. The window is closing and soon it will be too late to get him. This guy likes to move towns, like she said.’ He nodded to you.

Dean looked from Sam back to you and held your eyes in his for a long moment.

He blinked, then stood up.

‘Ok Sammy, but just one last thing before we go.’

He glanced back to you, the look in his eyes saying this was a bad idea.

‘Castiel,’ he said. Your heart pounded. Was he really calling the angel? ‘Cas, I need a favour.’

He looked around the room expectantly, avoiding Sam’s confused gaze.

‘Dammit, Cas! Get your feathery ass down here. You sure as hell owe me one, and a big one-’

There was a flap of wings and a whoosh of air and a dark-haired man in a trenchcoat appeared the other side of your bed.

He fixed his blue eyes on Dean.

‘What’s this about Dean?’ He looked around, noticing you were in a hospital. ‘Does someone need healing?’ His eyes settled on you.

Without prompting, he moved to the side of your bed. Wordlessly, he touched two fingers to your forehead and you instantly felt a surge of power tingle through your body. The wound in your gut burned and then disappeared altogether.

You stared up at him. His face was set and he looked to Dean.

‘Is that all? I’m actually busy, Dean.’

Dean nodded once.

‘Thanks, Cas.’

The angel disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Panic began to pound in your chest.

‘No, come back!’ You turned to Dean, grabbing hold of his arm. ‘Bring him back!’ you shouted.

Dean tightened his fingers around your wrist, squeezing reassurance.

‘That was never gonna happen, and you knew that. You’ve always known that. You need to be ok with it.’

‘No!’ you shouted, but your voice got trapped in your throat as the realisation flooded through you. ‘No,’ you choked out again as your body convulsed with sobs.

Dean pulled you against his chest and held you more tightly than was comfortable, but it felt safe as you let yourself fall apart in his arms.

‘He’s better off up there than down here, trust me,’ he said softly.

He held you for a long time in silence.

Eventually, he let go and pulled back.

Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Sam nodded understanding.

Dean looked to you.

‘You need to get ready sweetheart. We’ll give you some time. Get your clothes on.’

‘What?’ You puzzled.

‘You’re all healed up now.’

He paused, looking around the room. His eyes settled on your jeans on the side. He shrugged off his checked overshirt and handed it to you.

‘Here, you can wear this. I guess your t-shirt had a big bloody rip in it.’

‘But you said…’ you started, tears filling your eyes.

‘You need closure. I get it. So you’re gonna come with us, and you’re gonna shoot this bastard in the face. And then you’re gonna move on with your life and be happy.’ He fixed his eyes on yours. ‘You’re the face of the future.’

You looked down at the shirt in your hands, then back up at the two brothers.

‘Come on,’ Dean continued. ‘We’re going hunting.’

***

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