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candied-cae · 2 years

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To Be So Lovely

Chapter 1/1 - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 1,703

Summary : One night, when Frenchie comes home, he notices Wee John acting a bit shy. Wee John had never really been taught to appreciate himself, but his lover will not let this last. It's time they had a conversation about John's insecurity, and how truly ravishing Frenchie thinks he is.

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Frenchie had finally finished his turn helping Roach scrub the dishes for the day and was making it back to his and Wee John’s shared room. He threw open the door to see John standing, probably just getting back himself from checking on the gunpowder. Frenchie noticed John often did that if he was going to be a little late getting back, he’d have run below deck to kill more time until they’d be together again. Frenchie thought it was pretty cute.

The large man turned around and smiled seeing him. And just seeing Wee John’s glowing grin would always bring his own onto Frenchie’s face. He walked further into the room, closing the door behind him, and gazed up and down the man’s body. He was a marvelous sight. Frenchie thought so every time he saw him, but after a long day, he always seemed that much more appealing to the eyes.

“There you are.” He mused at the object of his deepest affection.

Frenchie reached out to hold his massive hands and simply adore him when he caught sight of John pulling his shirt off of his body. He’d seen him do so before but wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing it for.

“You look absolutely lovely, darling” Frenchie assured as he leaned in for a kiss.

The kiss was returned but without any response. And then John retreated to the bed and attempted to tuck himself away under the blanket, even in the stifling heat of the tropics in summertime. This was also something Frenchie had noticed him doing before. Neither action made much sense to him, but it almost looked like Wee John was attempting to hide himself and his shape under the fabrics. Frenchie thought such an idea was foolish, simply because he looked too damn good to not be seen.

But now that he was thinking on it, there were other actions Wee John had taken which aroused a certain suspicion. They were kissing rather fervently one time when Frenchie moved to run his hands around John’s hips, and he could feel him go rigid. He reined himself back a bit, John relaxed back into their intimacy, and so he brushed the concern away as just a bit of timidness. It was earlier on in their relationship, after all. And, back when they’d all been marooned together, while most of the crew were stripping off their layers for a chance to bring down their temperature, John just moved to sit in the shade, completely covered. And, while it might’ve not been the exact same sort of situation, Frenchie can’t help remembering that Wee John was the only crew member Stede couldn’t fit into a fancy outfit for their terrible tea time with the English. He’d only seemed to pick at his food that evening.

Frenchie had been sure that if something was bothering John, he would’ve said so to him… but now he was wondering if there was something he’d elected to omit.

Frenchie stepped into the bed beside him, crossing his legs as he sat and looked at the man next to him,“ Why don’t you let me look at you? You always seem to try and skirt from my view when I just want to behold you.”

Wee John huffed and shook his head,“ It’s ridiculous.”

“What is?” Frenchie asked, carefully leaning closer. He wanted John to know he was really listening.

“Lovely.” Wee John quotes back to him with a roll of his eyes,” A ridiculous word for me.”

Frenchie’s face went something sour at the comment. His Wee John? Not Lovely? He’d never heard something so wrong in his whole life.

“Now, that is something I’d completely disagree with you on.”

There was a tired, or detached, laugh in John’s voice when he answered,“ Then I’d completely disagree with the working of your eyesight.”

That was the first time Frenchie had ever seen him so void. He was usually somewhere between a bright smile, cheeky remark, or wanton desire. But he looked so… small now. Like he’s been drained of any comfort and self-assurance.

“Where is this coming from, John? You must know I find you truly effervescent. A vision to be adored. A wealth of bountiful beauty to be enjoyed.” Frenchie found himself slipping into theatrics with a wide smile as he finished,” You enamor and amaze me every day.”

But Wee John didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.

Frenchie deflated a bit as he asked again,“ You do know that, right?”

Wee John sighed before answering,” I don’t need you to kid me.”

That line hit Frenchie hard. He wasn’t kidding, not in the least. His mouth fell open in his surprise, but before he could even insist otherwise John continued.

“I know I’m a big guy. Always have been. Might think the big guy don’t get messed with, on account of him being so… but I never was the tight, chiseled, sharp kind of big, and I never was much interested with acting all manly all the time. That kind of big guy? Nobody minded him. But this kind of big guy? He’s just made to be the butt of a joke.”

“I don’t think you’re a joke.” Frenchie says honestly,” You’re wicked funny and my favorite person to laugh with, don’t get me wrong. But not to laugh at.”

Wee John blinked but still didn’t turn towards him. Frenchie shifts a little closer and says,“ You, yourself, Wee John - and your body - they are not a joke.”

“Right.” Wee John laughed to himself at the idea.

“It’s the truth,” He contested,” It’s beautiful, all of it. I love the grey and black of your hair and the way it falls over half your face when it gets tussled through a hard day. I love the shaved sides where I can run my fingers along your scalp. I love your earrings and how they reflect the light all day long, making you the easiest person to find no matter what’s happening. I love your chin and how it moves when you laugh. I love your shoulders and how they lead to your arms. Strong and inked. And how I always feel so immeasurably safe in them. I love tracing over the black drawings when I’m sleepy but can’t bring my eyes to close. I love your hands, so much bigger than mine, and how they hold me so well. Like nothing else could fit me as they do. I love your chest, the wispy hair and the softness, the striking sight of the silver barbells never leaving me un-astounded. I love your belly, so plush and warm and stunning. Its shape makes me think to take a pair of scissors to your shirt so it won’t be so well-tucked into your breeches. I love your rear-”

Frenchie had meant to go on. He could’ve gone on for hours if Wee John needed, but he cut him off.

”And if I said something stupid like that I loved helping my mother make dresses? Because sometimes she’d need to put them on me to fill the fabric so she could mend it right, and I felt pretty for just a few minutes at a time? Then you’d see the joke. Then you’d laugh.”

He said it dismissively. Like he’d already decided that any other answer couldn’t possibly come from the man kneeling beside him. All logical reason said that Frenchie enjoyed him enough despite his size and his playful attempts at softness or seeming dainty. There was nothing to believe otherwise, not against everything he’s known.

“No.” Frenchie asserted firmly. Putting a hand to his shoulder to draw his attention to his serious expression, which Wee John finally looked at, and continued,” Then I’d ask if you wanted a dress of your own sewn to fit your magnificent figure properly.”

And looking into those beautiful browns, so sure and honest… Wee John believed him. Frenchie had just pictured Wee John wearing a dress, a wish he held so quietly close to his heart he’d never spoken it before, and he didn’t laugh. He instead earnestly wanted to know if John would like to make the idea a reality.

“…Really?”, he carefully asked, still terrified that the answer might’ve just changed had Frenchie reasoned with himself and come to the conclusion the rest of the world seemed to.

But instead, he promised,“ Really. Because I find you rather pretty and it’d please me if you saw yourself that way as well.”

That sentence sent more warmth to his heart than he’s ever felt before, but there was still a lifetime of cruelty he’d been taught… he can’t really imagine feeling pretty again now that he’s aged and grown so much.

“That’s a tall order,” he admits cautiously.

“Well, while I’m not sure I could make a very nice dress for you, still getting a hang of the sewing thing, I think if we found the right person for the job…” Frenchie paused as he leaned right up to John’s pierced ear and whispered,” You’d look so absolutely lovely, you’d be forced to say so yourself.”

And with that, Wee John couldn’t keep back the shy smile that’d been tugging at his cheeks,“ That sounds… lovely.”

Frenchie drifted further in and kissed him again, but this time it was better. Less chaste, less avoidant, less closed. This kiss was more open, more trusting. It was more comfortable. Frenchie slowly ran his hand down from John’s shoulder, over his back, just ever so carefully doting on the rolls of flesh there before it came to rest on his hip. And John didn’t wince under his lips this time. With his other, he laid it on his chest and slowly moved across his collarbone as he maneuvered over himself. In no time at all, he was sitting atop John’s lap - right where he thought he belonged, he might add - when John pulled their kiss apart.

But it was no action of fear this time, instead, he drew on a mischievous grin and asked,” So, about my rear?”

Frenchie laughed himself before answering,“ Of course, darling, let’s return to such a fine subject matter, indeed.”

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winksasleeplesseye · 1 year

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obscura (one)

SUMMARY: Six years have passed. And Amara can't help but think about them as she heads for her next mission, recounting a pair of blue eyes and blonde hair and just what the government has done thus far.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: mentions of violence, cursing, experimentation implied, angst

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

London

October 2004

Amara’s headspace had become more and more frequently a comfort these days. A more refined person would call it a mind palace, a memory palace, etc.

She found living in memories, in moments of calm, had become an anchor for her. Between every punishing mission, she’d find a quiet place and drift and daydream into this place. Her mind conjured up images of a familiar, yet slowly unfamiliar pair of blue eyes and blonde hair but she couldn’t produce much else. But it was enough for her.

Leon was becoming a distant memory since Raccoon City and that scared her more than anything, not being able to see him or talk to him after everything is agonizing.

Sure, she had her outlets like kickboxing classes in the gym down the street from her apartment with that stupidly hot instructor John, sporadic visits coordinated by that weasely bastard Simmons with Sherry and Claire, and other things like music and painting but companionship was something she’d craved. Maybe too much sometimes. That was something that still made her just like everyone else.

Things moved at a breakneck pace after they’d been picked by the government in the aftermath. Once it became known just what Amara carried now forever in her blood, did the threats come for her by the very same government that she thought would protect them.

Now, she’s just a weapon—correction, an agent to do their bidding, their science experiment. Wesker did this to you. Keeping her mouth shut about Raccoon also guaranteed her safety and not just hers but Leon’s, Claire’s, and Sherry’s safety.

Another part of her wanted desperately to find the man who put her in this position in the first place. But that didn’t matter now. Wherever he is, she hopes it’s nowhere good.

Above everything else, Amara wanted nothing more than to keep her new allies—friends safe. Most of all, Leon.

She lets out a pitiful laugh to herself, thinking about him, her eyes focused on the road ahead. If she’d known everything that would’ve happened after that night in the motel, she would’ve held him longer, tighter. Kissed him more and savored the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of him inside her.

Even in their last interaction, deep down she knew she shouldn’t have let go.

See you later had shifted from what she thought would only be days, weeks, months…to six long years.

Rain pelted down against the tan leather of her jacket, she couldn’t find it in herself to even wear a helmet as she weaved through the traffic on her bike. Something about the rain against her face reminded her that she was alive.

With what she’s paid? A quick trip to the salon would fix her right up anyways. She actually didn’t quite mind when her hair reverted to its natural state.

Cutting down a narrow alley, she stops short in front of a parked van in front of what seems to be a derelict building. It’s black, inconspicuous, and with this weather? Practically invisible.

Her eyes venture up at the dilapidated sign above the said building. King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone attraction.

“There seems to be a fine line between coincidence and irony.” She says to no one in particular. The window of the van rolls down and an unfamiliar man sticks his head out.

“Good evening, Agent Moore.” The man smiles, a little too cheerful for Amara’s taste. “I’m Joe, I’ll be your support on this mission from here.”

A crack of lightning brightens the area momentarily. “I thought supports usually stayed in an office?”

“Courtesy of the government, this is my base of operations,” Joe, with a hint of a British accent she notices, gestures to the back, Amara briefly sees the high-tech screens and monitors.

All to keep her in line, she’s sure. For a brief moment, the lyrics of that stalker song by The Police play in her head. Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you take, every step you take, I’ll be watching you… “Right. So you’re telling me there’s an old Umbrella facility underneath a King Arthur attraction?”

“According to our intel, yes, unfortunately. There was actually some nonsense of the real King Arthur’s tomb here years ago…soon discredited.”

“And yet another roadside attraction was born,” she jokes. “Let’s see what we can see, shall we?”

She doesn’t wait for Joe’s answer, opting to head to the wall to climb up from the gutter into an open window at the top. Dropping gracefully into the expansive space, decorated distastefully and quite cheesy for a King Arthur attraction.

“Joe, hear me loud and clear?” Amara pressed the comms system on her ear.

“Clearer than clear, love.”

“Good, hopefully, this will be educational for you.”

“Learning from one of the top agents in the US division is more than an honor.” The thought of being a top agent at one point would’ve made Amara proud but now it felt like a stain that's never washed clean.

Covert operations never did seem like things deserving of the honor.

Crates and other knick knacks lay about haphazardly. “If I were an evil pharmaceutical company, where would I hide a lab?”

“I thi-“

“That was rhetorical.”

Amara ventured further in, finding more opulent, ornate items scattered throughout the various ridiculous set pieces. Jill would’ve thought it was a good score. The goofy narrations made her chuckle; were they really trying to actually educate anyone about the King Arthur tale?

Many times in her schooling, particularly on the subject of English literature, her teachers would talk of how King Arthur’s life and deeds gave way to the Arthurian legends. The once tried and true history nerd inside of her would’ve devoured this silly attraction.

Now, she can’t exactly imagine sitting down to read much of anything except lots and lots of mission reports. When she wasn’t reading them, she was certainly writing them.

At least going on missions broke up the monotony. The routine that had become so much of her life as of late. Another side objective to this mission, one that HQ told her not to really divulge anyone of, was her search for paintings. Not just any paintings either; these ones were linked to Umbrella’s former leader, Oswell E. Spencer.

She had found 4 out of about 5 (luckily the man never quite got them all in his possession), spanning across the globe, each one portraying demonic, disturbing imagery. HQ claimed they held “power” within the paint which was just about the stupidest thing she’d ever heard but in a world with the most grotesque monsters created by a human hand, was it that stupid?

Something about each one, despite the thoughts of its stupidity, intrigued her because of the symbols within the image but she did as told, destroying them (and those who protected them). All her intel pointed her to this place but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in July that it was actually here.

“How long ago did this place close down?” Amara asks, tiptoeing over water-damaged pieces of wood. “This place certainly is not up to code.”

“The illustrious owner, a…uh, Professor Kenneth Whitman went bankrupt in 2003, it’s been closed ever since then,” Joe answers, “Madness, right?”

“I shudder to think that that man had students, but shudder even more at how much disrepair this place has fallen into within a short amount of time.”

Amara attempted to test her royalty, pulling up the aforementioned sword in the stone with no luck. No power. No King Arthur glory for Amara. And certainly no way further inside. “Looks like I’ll need to switch on the breaker, wherever it is.”

“Map shows a side alley entrance, check there?”

Ugh, back out in the rain? She really didn’t want to go through another period of drying out inside this dank, almost humid place to getting soaked by London’s neverending rain again. This is what I signed up for, remember?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She sighed, following the map displayed on her communicator, the newest gadget added to her gear.

After traversing over the cast iron gates outside to switch on the breaker, only then does the power cut back on. Light pours out from the windows of the attraction, illuminating the rain as it hits the pavement.

“And let there be light,” she deadpans, it still earns her a chuckle from Joe through the comms in her ear.

Through all the narrations and displays, somehow Amara finds that she’s disappointed just a tad that the very room that supposedly was meant to get to the truth of the myths of King Arthur had now been converted into a storage facility.

“So much for getting to the truth of King Arthur.”

“Give the Professor some credit, at least he chose the most boring part to convert. Besides, who wants to know the actual truth anyway?”

“You’d be surprised,” Amara responded, finding a crack in the wall furthest from an exit beaming red from the fluorescent light above it. She knocked on it, finding the whole wall is hollow. Her eyes also happen upon a forklift, just asking to be used.

Operating it should be simple enough, right? It’s like operating a claw machine…with two metal sticks on the front. Joe seems to scoff, obviously watching her feed. “Is this what they teach you agents in America?”

“No, we usually just shoot our problems. But I thought I'd give this a try." Amara quipped.

He laughed. “I don't know about the forklift, but they definitely teach the sarcasm."

“Oh no, sarcasm is when I say the opposite of what I mean. Wit is when I say exactly what I mean, but in a way that makes you wish you had thought of it first."

“Lesson number one with Agent Moore? Wish I had grabbed a notepad.”

“I charge for lessons by the hour, Joe. Hope you’re ready to pay up when I get back there.”

“I’m good for it, love.”

The forklift did its job, taking down the wall to reveal…a secret entrance to a cavern. Amara pretended to be shocked, but she’s not. “Oh, wow, they hid that sooo well.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Yes, Joe,” she answered, hopping off the forklift. “This next part will require some silence, mate.”

All she hears is a small hum from Joe in her ear before the line is dead silent. Thank the gods above he knew when to be quiet.

The cavern is shrouded in darkness just beyond what Amara can see with the forklift’s headlight, so she flicked on her flashlight finding the craggy rocks bending and forming crudely to reveal a path. It seems to descend rather than just go straight forward. Huh, so it goes underground? This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it, Amara?

It’s a bit of a tight squeeze in some places, especially with all her gear, but she manages. More and more static filters through her comms in her ear the deeper she goes, so she lowers it. She almost wanted to let out a sigh of relief at the fact that she was finally alone even momentarily.

Eventually, the cavern begins to open up, an almost ominous humming echoing off the walls of the cavern as she gets closer to…

…a lab? Down here?

Well, at least the intel was correct.

The humming, she found, emanates from a big generator nearby which is hooked into a cavern wall. The wires seemed to lead nowhere, perhaps they were powered on with the breaker above ground? It looked more and more likely.

“Does this shit ever get less complicated?”

In 2003, after a lengthy trial that led to the dissolution of Umbrella and loss in stocks, the US Government, in a rare show of giving a shit, went after all involved with the company but that didn’t absolve their part in blowing Raccoon sky high. Hence, why she was here, partly.

While she’d been on other tasks (very much like the government’s goddamn lackey), this one was of the utmost importance. After RC, the government under USSTRATCOM formed the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. To no surprise, she alongside Leon are their main operators (though it wasn’t like they had much of a choice).

The current administration, Graham and his lovely cabinet, actually seemed to want to take down as many Umbrella adjacent so she’d spent the better half of last year during the RC trials and this year doing this.

Outside of her Umbrella pursuits, she’d heard of something going on with the President’s daughter but that currently wasn’t under her jurisdiction, technically she wasn’t even supposed to be aware of that.

There was some…mole within sectors so while usually Amara would be flanked by at least two other agents, now it’s down to just her. For reconnaissance purposes, it makes sense. The fewer agents, the less information could slip between the cracks. A smart tactic at the time, smart keeps most people safe.

But now in hindsight, it seems kind of absurd that one lone agent is tasked to find what could very well be an active Umbrella facility.

A sleek doorway stood before her, a sense of deja vu took her by surprise. The doors opened with no trouble, and the overwhelming smell of rust and damp concrete mixed with unused chemicals lingered in the air. Almost by instinct, Amara drew her Beretta, taking a moment to scan the surroundings.

The eerie silence was only broken by the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls.

Dimly lit corridors made her a little cautious, only her trusty flashlight in her other hand guiding her next steps. The place was in disarray, with broken machinery, debris, and paperwork scattered everywhere…it must’ve been a hell of a time escaping this place.

Amara didn’t scare easily but she couldn’t shake the chills up her spine and flare in her nostrils. Taking in deep breaths, she pushed on and focused on what she came here for. The facility is empty as she suspected, so her next steps were getting information and finding the painting.

A glint of something shiny on the ground just so happened to fall in the line of her sight.

“Well, hello there,” she bent down and picked it up. A small metal disc with Umbrella’s logo shines briefly in her vision, a small bit of her reflection displayed within the iridescent surface.

She pockets it and keeps moving.

Chancing it, she raises the volume back up on her comms. There’s no longer static so that’s a relief. Except now, she had to work a little harder to hear considering the comms tended to block out sound quite well when cranked up, so well, in fact, that she could hear her own footsteps reverberate through to her skull, maybe even hear her own brain knocking around it if she focused hard enough.

“Joe?” She speaks and for a few seconds, there’s a nerve-wracking silence.

His one-syllable answer practically rattles her skull from the vibration, “Yes?”

Oh, thank god. Joe may be a tad annoying but at least there was someone to get her through this creepy-ass atmosphere. “Nothing. Just checking that you’re still there.”

“Were you getting lonely?” There’s a teasing tone to his words that she doesn't appreciate. Fuck, especially here of all places. “If you needed a big, brave man to accompany you, all you had to do was ask.”

And there he goes ruining it. Some support he is. “Shut up.”

“No need to be touchy.”

One thing she’d learned about these paintings is that they tended to be within a shrine of sorts, or blatantly on display. Judging by the narrow hallways and the dim lighting, barely even lighting as much as the shoes on Amara’s feet, she definitely doubts that the painting is here. Seriously, who would even have a shrine down here?

She paused in front of a rusted door, her hand hovering over the handle. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped into the room beyond. The final room within the lab is a computer lab of sorts, though all the computers are ten years behind. Blocky, huge, and ugly to look at.

As she began to sift through the piles of documents laid atop the desks, Amara's eyes fell on a computer with its screen turned on, nestled in the far corner.

It’s sleek, newer, and curvier than blocky. Someone was showing off to their colleagues.

That same computer spits lined papers of what seems to be numbers onto the floor. It must’ve also cut back on with the breaker.

“Joe? You seeing this?” She raises one of the pages to eye level.

“Yeah, what are they?”

40.4637° N, 3.7492° W…that layout…these were coordinates. She ran her fingers over the papers, reading them out quietly. Where could these lead?

“Coordinates. Think if I give you a few, you could find where they are?”

“Give me—“ Joe cuts himself off, shuffling sounds coming from her comms, “alright, give me the numbers.”

She reads them out at an even pace, making sure that Joe could catch every number.

This time, his brief silence has her on the edge of a hypothetical seat. It annoys the shit out of her. “Well?”

“Hmm…” Joe’s small noise is filled with confusion, a first for him that she’s willing to bet on. “These coordinates were pulled recently. Coordinates are in Spain.”

Spain? Pulled recently? So maybe the heebie-jeebies she was getting from that place meant someone else was there not too long before she got there. But, her senses had been too good, she would’ve picked up on someone sooner.

“Think it’s another former Umbrella researcher? Trying to reach out? Maybe another facility?” Amara hypothesized, it was the only logical thing that came to her.

Joe laughs, though it doesn’t sound like he finds any of this particularly hilarious. “Highly doubt there’s people still that devoted to Umbrella.”

Amara always divided former Umbrella employees into two categories: the devoted and the wise. She always liked the wise, for one thing, they weren’t as dumb as the devoted (for researchers, they sure didn’t use their brains). The wise researchers knew to get the fuck outta dodge as soon as they even whiffed the brewing disaster. The devoted? Oh, they’d been drinking the red Kool-Aid for so long.

Apprehending the devoted made her feel as though she’d left the real world behind and entered the world of Alice in Wonderland. They’d taken to the primrose path, the path of fantasy and illusion, believing themselves to be doing right with Umbrella as their guide through and through.

Regardless, both bled the same.

“I think these coordinates will be worth a look. At least I won’t be leaving here empty-handed,” Amara replied. No painting, though. Guess that’d be for another mission.

The return to the above ground is far less treacherous, a bit anticlimactic but she likes that. She’s well-equipped to engage in a little hand-to-hand combat, all thanks to Uncle Sam but these jeans were far too nice to get messed up. Who knew that she could throw a man off balance by just using her legs? Those were the better parts of training, the others she hoped would never resurface in her brain. She’d gotten good at dividing parts of her life now into sections.

Climbing up the way she came in, she drops right down outside into a puddle, splashing a bit of her bootlaces with rainwater. It already seeped into her socks. Gross.

She lets out a deep breath as she walks back over to Joe’s van (she’s not calling that thing a base, no matter how much he convinced her), holding out the disc she’d found earlier. “Mission accomplished?”

He runs it over and over through his fingers, appraising it for its usefulness to the reports he’d no doubt have to write too. “Mission accomplished. Well done, Agent Moore.”

“Now you and your mystery van can skedaddle.” Amara waves her hands towards the road, chancing her eyes back towards the attraction. She sees a flash of red atop the roof.

Joe chuckles briefly, turning his attention to starting up the van. He’s none the wiser to what Amara has her eyes set on.

No fucking way.

Talk about a ghost story.

Amara makes sure that Joe drives off before following the trail. Could she have left well enough alone and got back to her hotel? Yes, absolutely. But at her core, she knows she’s curious as hell. Always had been. Besides wanting to protect others, she always had a curiosity to know all there is to know.

And right now, she wanted to know why Ada Wong is haunting this attraction.

Amara carefully plans her steps, trying to avoid detection by the woman as she watches from afar. Ada moves through as if she knew the place like the back of her hand.

The path narrows, making it more than a little difficult for Amara to conceal her presence.

“Well, well, well…” Amara announces herself, and for the first time since she’s known Ada, she notices a minute jump in her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for a history buff.”

Ada is slow to turn around but wears what seems to be a trademark smirk on her face, like she always knew something that no one else knew… most of the time she does.

“I could say the same to you.”

Ada and Amara now faced each other in the dimly lit hallway. The only sound that could be heard was the stupid, cheesy narration about the Lady of the Lake. Amara was tense, ready to fight, but also conflicted. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't quite bring herself to hate Ada.

"So, you're the one who's been tailing me," Ada said, a smirk still ever present on her face. "I'm flattered."

Amara is puzzled by her words, she only stumbled upon Ada by chance. If anyone was tailing anyone, it had to be the other way around.

"I'm not here to tail you," Amara said, raising her fists. "I'm here on a different mission but stopping you from causing any trouble would be a benefit.”

Ada laughed. "And here I thought we were friends."

"We're not friends," Amara retorted. "But I don't hate you either."

"Good," Ada said, as she lunged forward with a swift kick. Amara blocked it easily, her training kicking in. The two women traded blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Amara was quick and agile, an added benefit to whatever pumped through her blood, but Ada was more experienced and calculated in her movements.

As they fought, Amara couldn't help but think about the strange friendship that was developing—well, redeveloping— between them. She and Ada were on opposite sides, and now they crossed paths once again. Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, but Amara found herself almost liking Ada.

"You know," Amara said, as they continued to fight. "I really don't hate you, Ada. I kind of like you, in a twisted sort of way."

Ada raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Amara's admission. "Is that right? Well, that's good to know. Maybe we can be friends after all."

Amara smiled, just as she landed a punch on Ada's jaw. Ada stumbled back, but recovered quickly, launching herself into the fight.

Despite their differences, Amara and Ada fought with fierce intensity, each determined to come out on top. In the end, Ada emerged victorious, but as she helped Amara to her feet, the two women shared a small, knowing smile. Maybe they weren't enemies after all.

“With that in mind, you’ll have to forgive me, friend.”

Ada moves quickly, too quick for Amara to stop her. Jabbing a needle into her neck with efficiency. Not even her body could fight whatever was within the syringe.

Things become unfocused, and blurry as she stumbles back, away from Ada. She clutches her throat, every muscle in it closing up. The last thing Amara sees is Ada standing over her, she fights to get out one crucial word, “Bitch.”

Hours later

Amara jolts awake, gasping for air, expecting to shoot upwards but she finds that she can’t move. At all. Upon further inspection, she realizes she’s strapped down to a cold, hard table.

The brightness of the light above her blinding, making it hard to see beyond its edges. How long had she been unconscious?

The last thing she remembered is London, King Arthur, and…Ada. God damn it. That’s the last time she lets her defenses down so easily. So much for being friends.

She pulled and struggled against the restraints, hoping that “enhanced strength” would actually come in handy but found they were very unbudgeable.

“I wouldn’t mess with those if I were you,” a voice with an accent sounds off, “they were made just for you.”

Amara turned her head, finding a curly-haired man leaning against the adjacent wall, his eyes scanning between her and the lab equipment next to him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Eso es irrelevante, encantador, ¿no?” There’s an almost sleaziness to his tone, it reminded her of the creeps you’d find on a busy street as they tried to catcall.

Amara sneered. “Considering you’re holding me captive? It’s very relevant.”

“I don’t find pleasure in this, precioso.”

She laughs lightly, he was laying it on pretty thick. “Amara. As much as I love an ego boost, call me by my name.”

“Amara, I am not the one holding you captive.”

“Okay…if it’s not you, then who is it? How long have I been here?”

“Long enough for me to take your blood,” he gestures to a machine, about 3 vials of red liquid sitting inside it.

“What?!”

“Relax, eh, I haven’t done anything with it. At least not anything they’d want.”

Amara couldn’t find it in herself to put up with the back and forth anymore. If she’d learned anything from Raccoon City, it’s that time is of the essence and mincing words and being secretive got you nowhere good. “Enough with the runaround what you really mean bullshit. Get to the point.”

The man comes close to her side, eyes darting around quickly before focusing his attention on her. Apprehension seemed to spring up in him on a dime. Whoever he worked for certainly must have him spooked.

“There’s an infection, a virus, going around this village. I believe with your blood, they want to strengthen the strain. They call it Las Plagas.”

So that’s why Ada brought her here. To be used in someone else’s nefarious game. Using her own bioorganic chemistry against her, against others. Amara was really beginning to think whoever Ada worked for and her own government was one and the same. Two sides of the same fucked up coin.

“Great, you’ve already stolen my blood, so why tell me this?”

“I’m a biologist. I think—no, know that I can reverse engineer a vaccine. Something to stave off symptoms.”

With his admission of this, Amara senses a serious case of deja vu once more. It’s John all over again. The intercepted email he wrote echoed in this man’s words, “Seriously, fuck these guys. Innocent people are getting hurt.”

“How long would that take? I can’t imagine your employers are just going to let that happen under their noses.”

“This is my lab, not theirs,” Luis said simply. “Think you can stand being strapped down a little longer?”

Amara didn’t exactly want to trust this man. He’d given up this information so easily, what was to say he wouldn’t turn on her at some point? But, throwing caution to the wind, she goes along. Well, it’s not exactly like she had much of a choice, considering she’s the one strapped to a table, god knows where.

“Just get on with it.”

“Name’s Luis, by the way. Luis Serra.”

She nods in understanding, training her eyes on a corner of the wall to try and take her mind elsewhere. The hum of the lab equipment takes over the silence of the room. At least Luis seems to realize that he didn’t have to take up the air in the room by talking every second. Amara appreciates that.

Her eyes move towards the other end of the lab, scanning over tubes filled with bubbling liquids, diagrams of molecular specifications, X-rays of subjects unknown to her, and, on the far wall, calculations of specific chemicals and their reactions. Whatever was going on, Luis’ employers had been going at it for quite some time.

Amara is certainly no biologist but training in the government, you had to know some science. It wasn’t just close-quarters combat or weapons training, agents needed an analytical mind and the ability to recognize specimens, especially biological weapons now.

Training with the government wasn’t too unlike the police academy, though there was the unfortunate thing of everyone, everyone, keeping their eyes on her. Her reputation preceded her and the same could be said for Leon.

There wasn’t a place in training where she didn’t hear utterances and whispers about him but he became just as elusive there as he was to her now. Upon learning that Leon was there, to begin with, pissed her off, they’d clearly gone against their deal but it’s not like she could do anything about it.

And anyway, the government must have a personal vendetta about keeping them apart. But for her in the same circles, she was the subject. The Subject. Never her and never by name. There was another one she’d heard from recruits as she passed. Dark Angel.

Dark Angels were known for their inability to fall and their brutality, well, at least to the mythos Amara had read. Still, she couldn’t stand either choice of names bestowed upon her.

In a way, both were dehumanizing. A reminder of the distinction between her and everyone else. Amara certainly didn’t want to be separated from everyone else. It’s not like she asked to be turned into some science project. As much as Amara hated to, she looked on the bright side…it certainly made her infinitely more interesting than she actually was.

At some point, Amara found that she couldn't keep her eyes open, her eyes fought against the almost burning lids, but it was no use.

She drifts off, finding that familiar set of blue eyes calling to her again. Man, were they pretty.

Amara is now sitting up when she wakes up for the second time. Still strapped down, still not-so-cozy and there was a very chilly draft that lingered around, thanks to whoever stole her jacket—but overall this was much better than the hard table.

Shit, they took her sidearm too? Why is she only just now noticing? This place is beginning to suck more and more.

One thing she hadn’t been warned of was her lungs burning, her eyes stinging, she had to fight for her first breath. She lets out a few coughs, her breathing returning to its normal pace. But, a weariness sat in her muscles that she couldn’t shake.

Luis…

…where was he? How long had she slept this time? What the hell had he done since she’d been asleep?

As if to answer her question, Luis runs inside the lab, with an urgency he didn’t possess before. At first, she couldn’t hear him, her senses hadn’t quite progressed past pain. Then she heard shouts. Whispers. Murmurs.

Luis was yelling. Yelling at her. He was trying to coax her into consciousness in any way he could. “We have to go now!”

“Go? Go where?” She asks while Luis undid the straps. Her legs wobbled as she stood, all the strength was gone momentarily but she regained her footing quickly.

“Anywhere but here,” Luis pulls out a Red9, places a magazine in it, cocking it, and holding it at the ready. “You ready for an escape, Amara?”

“Is that even a question?”

He grinned and cocked his head towards the door. Amara hadn’t felt a rush like this in a long time. Something about it reminded her of Raccoon City in a sick, twisted kind of way. Luis grabbed her wrist and tugged her along, setting them both off into a sprint down long corridors and dimly lit passages with side doors and passcodes.

Amara’s eyes widened at just the enormity of this place, this was all Luis’ lab? There was no time to pause and gawk; getting the fuck out of here took priority, otherwise, both of them would be dead.

“I guess this is a bad time to ask, but why are we running?” She questions between heaving breaths. Running and talking at the same time especially after only just being able to breathe again are not things Amara enjoyed doing.

“Do you really want to-”

“Yes!” Amara interrupted him, ripping her hand from his to get a better pace going.

Luis stops short as the hall opens up to a big space. Amara barely has a second to register his ceasing movement, preventing herself from all but crashing into his back. “That’s why.”

Amara follows his line of sight, upon seeing what he’s referring to, she laughs bitterly. “Are you fucking for real right now?”

This gigantic asshole stomped in through the door that Amara assumed was their ticket to freedom. He was dressed not unlike a monster she’d seen before, but this guy had a beard, yellow eyes, and sickly pallor to his skin and could talk. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had been kidnapped? But now she had to deal with this shithead? God must be playing a cruel joke on her.

Luis reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, the man’s towering figure charged at them. Amara tried to dodge, but the giant man grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her against a nearby table. She felt a searing pain in her side as something sharp pierced her skin.

He’s not here for me.

Luis fired his gun at him, but it had no effect on the hulking monster. As he advanced on him, Luis ducked out of the way, practically army-crawling to get to her.

"We have to go, now!" he yelled, dragging Amara behind him as they ran towards the door.

Amara stumbled, her head spinning. She could feel blood oozing from the fresh wound in her side and knew they had to keep moving if they wanted to survive.

Just as she thought they might make it out alive, Mendez lunged towards them, his massive hand closing around Amara's neck from behind. The man was quicker than she thought he’d be. She gasped for air as he lifted her off the ground, the world spinning around her.

Mendez's grip tightened around Amara's neck as she struggled to breathe. She clawed at his arms, but it was no use. She was trapped.

"At least buy me dinner first!" Amara gasped out, her eyes flickering with anger.

But it was too late. Mendez hurled her across the room, her body slamming into a nearby table with a sickening crack.

Everything went black.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #Leon kennedy x oc #oc amara moore #leon kennedy x black oc #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #leon scott kennedy #re4 remake #resident evil #black oc #mixed race oc #mixed oc #original black character #luis serra #luis serra navarro #aod fic #ashley graham #Leon kennedy x mixed race oc

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Riding John stones thigh please xx

chefs fucking kiss for this ask bestie :)

holiday hatred

john keeps pulling his shorts up those stupidly beautiful thighs of his and you’re forced to act on it - 18+

John Stones was someone who spent more time inside the confines of your racing mind than you would have admittedly liked. Or maybe just more than you would admit. Lockdown had meant growing out his hair just like it had for everyone else and suddenly John had seemingly discovered that he both suited and preferred a slightly longer look. The stupidly attractive City player has also taken the last year to reflect on a lot of things and seems to have dedicated significant importance to his time spent in the gym where he might previously have gone for vanity and greatly under appreciated the gyms importance in his football fitness because suddenly his biceps are transformed from strong but yet still lanky to tightly sculpted large biceps with muscles visible along each of his forearms that flex and relax with each movement he makes.

He’s grown up. He’s not 23 anymore, only working on cardio and panicking about his place on the City first team. He’s grown up mentally, physically. John is a solid member of that team and possibly even more importantly, he’s one of the first men down on the England team sheet. He’s given countless hours, sacrificed a lot to bring himself back to level required. He’s cemented his talent, he’s good and people know he’s good. He’s also grown into every physical asset he’s been gifted in this life. In essence, John is hot and he fucking knows he’s hot.

Although you wouldn’t dare to admit that. You never would. Because talented as he is, as much growth as he’s underwent, as unbearably attractive as that Barnsley born boy is and as funny as you know he can be, there is one very critical thing that you can remind yourself of anytime you might be caught slipping up.

He’s John fucking Stones and you hate everything about him.

“Can you believe that final?”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts, eyes finally lifting off the television you were subconsciously glaring directly at in the break room. Yes, you very much could believe the final. It is all anyone’s been talking about, over and over again as they play repeats of Luke Shaw’s goal (for which you had been screaming in sheer joy) and then repeats of the penalties that nearly made you shit yourself in anticipation only to end up going to bed half drunk and disheartened at the loss that looked so close to being a massive win.

Admittedly you were saddest for the blonde left back who you’d been best friends with since you were little. The same one who scored that screamer that became the fastest ever scored goal in a European championship. They, and namely him, were so close to achieving such a huge dream only to have it snatched so late from them.

It’s the reason why you don’t really do much in the way of answering your colleague after she asked the question. You don’t really want to talk about and frankly it’s all people have been wanting to talk about. You’re honestly just counting down the minutes to when you get to clock out today and hop right into the private jet catered by Luke and settle into a sun lounger in Greece for a week. You bloody couldn’t wait.

“Missed you.” He hums into your shoulder the second you step onto the lavish plane. You laugh slightly, squeezing him tightly back. “Missed you too Lu, but where’s my boy?” You beam, detaching yourself from him do you can get a cuddle from his sweet little boy who you’ve designated yourself an aunt to. A couple other pile in and you use the bathroom to freshen up a little.

When you step out the door of the little plane bathroom, your face comes into very near contact with a raised fist as, though it was about to knock on the door. The strong arm that you follow to the body it’s connected to belongs to a man you would sooner not share an enclosed space with. “Took your time.” John snarks, words met with your firm glare. “Might not have felt so long if you weren’t standing perving at the door, Stones.” You retort sharply, attempting to use your shoulder to push past the large wall of muscle that was his body. He barely budged, keeping you trapped between him and the wall just by the bathroom door. “Wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t spend forever looking at yourself in the mirror.” He snips, those blue eyes dancing across your face as you roll yours. “Just because that’s what you do, John, doesn’t mean we all do.” You tut, “That’s just your vanity showing.”

He can’t seem to think of a quick witted retort fast enough, allowing you time to use your height - or lack thereof in comparison to his towering 6 foot 2 figure - to escape under his arm easily. John can’t really help but watch you walking away until you reach the curtain that lead back out into the main area of the private plane.

Your relationship had always been like this; the digs and jabs until one person just can’t think of anything else to say and backs down or walks away disgruntled. There was nothing definable, no rhyme or reason why. You just can’t stand each other and have never even seemed to be able to get on. He’s a city boy and you’d found a love for the opposing club while giving your undying support to your best friend who played for them. You two could be the poster pair for the Manchester club rivalry. Everybody else could literally feel the sexual tension that existed between the centre back and you on the rare occasions you would be within the vicinity of one another.

The thought of being in the same resort and hotel as him irked you right from the get go, but you would be proven to drastically have underestimated just how much he would bug you.

He was everywhere, walking around with adonis abs amplified by perfectly tanned skin that rippled over his muscles. It felt like he was everywhere all the time, in your way, in front of you at the bar paying for your drink with his tab before you’d even decided what you wanted just to irritate you. Or doing laps in the pool, pushing himself up out of the cool water, swishing his hair out of his face as he climbs out with droplets trailing down over his abs before disappearing into his soaking black swim shorts.

You turn back to your little plate of melon so as to not be caught staring at him. John’s sun lounger is right next to yours today, making you want to audibly groan in irritation when he appears, dripping water into you as he moves around to get his towel.

“Like what you see?” He rumbles, the shaking of his wet hair getting more under your skin than anything else as water sprays onto you. “You’re blocking the sun.” You reply, not lifting your eyes to look at him. His eyebrows raise, determined to catch your attention one way or another. The conversation with the lads from earlier had been stuck in his mind for hours. They were joking and jesting and at some point, Luke said “Hell would fuckin’ freeze over before Stonesy told (y/n) he has the hots for her.” And he’s not been able to think about anything else all fucking day, believe it or not.

“Oh really?” John tests, eyes scanning you for a reaction. He’s watching with a dry mouth as you pop the watermelon into your mouth and raise your head to look at him. Suddenly, it’s your mouth that’s dry. He’s standing right there, long fingers tugging up the material of those swim shorts so his wet, tanned thighs are on full show. The muscles flew and relax with each movement his legs make and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of them until you’re trailing your eyes up the rest of his body. John sits down on the edge of his sun lounger after you sit up on yours, your legs planted down on the floor over the side just like his so his knees knock against yours. You move to stand up, but John reaches for your wrist and pulls you down to sit straddled on his of his thighs, with you facing him and a leg on either side of his.

“Not complaining now, are you.” He tease, voice deep and low as he speaks close to your ear. You want to protest, but just in the very moment you open your mouth, he flexes the muscles of his bare quad and you’re forced to lurch forward, letting out a sharp sigh of pleasure against his bare shoulder. The feeling of his periodically flexing muscles through the thin bikini material is enough for you to want to arch your back into him. John laughs almost, but not from humour. “My room or yours?” He mumbles into your ear, nipping softly with his teeth at the sensitive skin of your neck. “Yours is closest.”

John doesn’t wait for you to get to your feet, but rather swoops you up into his arms, strides away from the sun loungers and storms towards his room. He fumbles with the keycard when you both get there as he pushes your back up against the wall the second he puts you down, his lips find yours in a hungry, passionate kiss compiled with years with of pining and sexual tension building up and up. Your body feels like it’s on fire as his hands leave you to push open the door that is simply then kicked closed behind him without much care. John grabs you again, hiking you up his body until your legs sit around his waist with his rock hard errection rubbing against you with every movement.

He walks backwards until the bend of his knees hits the couch, dropping both of you down onto it. From the way you straddle him, he’s pressing against you in a way that makes you buck your hips back and forth for the friction of the tenting in his shorts against your aching core. “Ah ah ah,” John tsk’s, detaching his lips from yours. “You know that’s not what you want yet, is it?”

You follow his eyes down to his thigh, the one he’d been flexing under your aching wetness not even five minutes ago. The way your eyes light up and your body responds to the suggestion makes John beam. He makes very quick work of removing your bikini bottoms and then shifts you so your right over his toned thigh. It’s almost pure instinct the way you start rubbing yourself against him, arms loose around his neck as he keeps you flush to him, bare chest to bare chest after he unravels them material of your bikini top, discarding it somewhere far behind him. John uses those large hands to take care of your erect nipples, one looking after the right where his mouth takes care of the left and his spare hand moved between you dripping core and his glistening thigh so he can work circles around your throbbing clit.

“Oh god, John.” You exhale, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder as you bury your face in his neck. Your hips move back and forth, getting yourself off on the bare skin of those rippling thighs that clutch and tightening beneath you in his attempt to make the experience even more enjoyable for you. “Don’t hate me so much now, eh?” John taunts, curling his fingers into you. “Oh god no - fuck John!”

John is mesmerised by the whimpers, the whines and the unbearable moans of his name that make him ache with pleasure. He’s worried he might cum right here and now without you ever actually touching any more than his thigh but he wouldn’t ever dare stop you in this moment. He couldn’t even if he wanted to (and he doesn’t) because thinking about the face you’ll make upon an orgasm is the most enthralling thing he’s ever been so desperate to see. “Come on then baby,” He encourages, your heart rate picking up even further yet at the baby. “Cum for me, pretty girl, cum on my thigh.”

You really don’t need to be encouraged or told twice, you bury your head into him and dig your nails into his back ever so slightly as you yelp out his name, his fingers flipping into the space to push up into you. With each buck of your hips, each squeak from your parted lips and each curl of his fingers, you tumble over an orgasm better than anything you’d ever had. How John was so good would shock you if your mind was boggled by sheer blinding pleasure. “Fuck John!” You yell.

He feels your soft, warm walls pulsate around his fingers before he drags them out to swirl your over sensitive clit just to hear those wildly arousing squeaks of pleasure a few more times before you stop, collapsing against his bare chest breathlessly.

“Fucking hell.” You pant, your pussy still clenching around nothing as you flip into the couch next to him with your legs over his lap. You can feel the huge bugle in his shorts where he was still aching to feel you. “Yeah.” He agrees, eyes unable to detach from you as he imagines the feeling of himself inside of you, fully inside of you making your eyes roll back in your head unable to even form enough of a thought to moan his name. Your eyes meet his, hungry with desire.

“The things i want to do to you,” John mumbles lowly, voice cheeks with arousal before he seeks out your lips again only in time for you to pull away, much to his disappointment. “Then do it,” you challenge, “Do it all. Just as long as i can’t walk in a straight line tomorrow. Deal?”

John nods, immediately pushing your back down onto the couch so he can hover over you, tug down his shorts and line himself up with your dripping entrance. He brings his lips down to yours, pushing himself in to make you gasp as the colour of your eyes disappears behind blown pupils with a whimper in pleasure.

“Deal.”

#john stones #john stones x reader #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #footie fics #footballer fics #football fics #football imagines #footballer imagines

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hcywards · 4 years

Text

love — jj maybank

summary: in which jj maybank didn’t know how many types of love there were until y/n l/n asked exactly what type of love he felt for her

words: 2.4k+

t/w: swearing, a fight — blood mentions, and literally one mention of abuse that you won’t notice unless you squint, kissing, underage drinking

note: uhhh so this is my first fic and i don’t know how i feel about it but i’m a whore for jj so here we are

Y/N had known JJ Maybank since she was four.

At four years old, thinking isn’t something you do often, and it was barely ever done with them. They did, rather than thought. They’d kiss each other’s cheeks as if it were nothing, change in front of one and another, sleep in the same bed. Hell, there were times when they’d had baths together.

And the not thinking did work for a while. They didn’t think for a few years, and those few years were perhaps the most stress free years they’d ever experienced, because, when you don’t think, you don’t worry, and everything is carefree and happy.

But there comes a time in your childhood when your not-thinking years come crashing down on you, and you have to think everything from the past few years through entirely. Suddenly, those cheek kisses could mean a lot more than just cheek kisses, but they could also just mean cheek kisses. Changing in front of each other couldn’t happen, because that meant more than ‘my clothes are soaked so I’m going to change them’; it meant ‘I have to undress in front of you’. Sleeping in the same bed? That had more connotations than imaginable. And, God forbid, sharing a bath? A pair of nine-year-olds couldn’t do that, no matter how close they were.

When you first start thinking before doing, you don’t think that you could think any more than you do, but that had to be the most incorrect idea anyone’s ever had, because, now, sixteen-year-old Y/N seemed to do nothing but thinking, all the time.

Which was how she came to the conclusion she was in love with her best friend.

It was a conclusion she hated, and she wished she could turn back time and stop herself from thinking it, but she couldn’t, and now, every time she saw him, it was the only thing she was able to think — that she was in love with him, but he simply loved her.

They’d drifted slightly as they grew older. They were still close, but not quite as much as they used to be, due to the thinking they both did. They were still in the same friend group, but JJ wouldn’t consider her his best friend any more. That place went to John B. And, as much as Y/N wished she could call JJ her best friend still, she knew that Kie was hers, not him.

But did she wish she could still call him just her best friend? Did she not want him to be her boyfriend? Would she be able to stop herself from telling him everything if he was her best friend?

There she went with the thinking again, the thinking she’d come to despise. She ran a hand over her face to bring herself out of her thoughts, taking a sip of her stale beer and looking out over the party. She then decided that idea was awful and tore her eyes back away from the scene quickly; she’d looked over at the dancing bodies and seen JJ with that stupidly beautiful blonde touron more times than she wanted to count, and she didn’t want to make the heart-wrenching mistake again.

So, instead, her eyes went on the fire she was sat in front of, and she watched its flames dance in front of her eyes, swallowing back the jealousy that was still bubbling inside of her and instead focusing on the heat that the orange flames rolled over her. She watched it with such intensity she didn’t notice that Kie case to sit by her side, and jumped when the girl began to talk.

“You should tell him,” the girl stated, as if it’d be that easy.

Of course, Y/N wanted to tell him; she’d always wanted to tell him, ever since she found out. She wanted to tell him because she thought that, if she told him, he might stop talking about the last girl he had sex with in front of her, or blatantly hitting on another touron while she was stood right there. Maybe, deep down, part of her hoped he might feel the same, but she knew that part of her was stupid and still thought that a fan fiction reality might come true one day, when there was no way it could ever work. Not for her. And telling him would go awfully — it would probably tear them apart more than they already were, and Y/N didn’t want that to happen, ever. She wanted to have the ability to laugh with him, and drink with him and smoke with him and talk about when they were kids with him, not have it be awkward with him and only see him when she absolutely had to. So, she turned to Kiara with an eye roll, an exasperated expression on her face as she prepared for another repeat of the conversation they’d had plenty of times before.

“Kiara,” she sighed, setting her drink by her side and pushing her hair out of her eyes. Kiara smiled bitterly, knowing exactly what her friend was going to say because she’d said it so many times before. “That’s stupid, and you know it. He doesn’t like me back. It’ll just make things awkward between us. And you know the rule.”

“That rule sucks ass, and you know it,” Kiara replied. “Besides, things are already awkward between you because you keep on avoiding him. If you just told him, then maybe—"

There was a loud shout that interrupted her, and the two girls looked up to see a circle of people beginning to form, the word “fight” ringing out around the beach loudly and repeatedly. Y/N and Kiara made eye contact, both rolling their eyes. Of course, every party had to end like this. Why couldn’t they all just go home, and not start punching each other?

They stood up to go see who it was, anyway, pushing their way through the group of drunk teenagers and muttering the occasional sorry when they pushed too hard and sent one stumbling into another, grateful they didn’t manage to start a domino effect around the ring by the time they reached the centre.

There, in the haphazard circle, was JJ and Rafe.

Y/N wondered why she wasn’t surprised as she took another small step forward. Rafe had JJ pinned — obviously, they’d been fighting for a while before Kiara and Y/N heard, and the two girls looked at each other again, wincing at the cracks of Rafe’s knuckles on JJ’s cheeks.

Y/N took another step forward, shrugging Kiara’s warning hand off of her. She’d broken up plenty of fights before, she knew what she was doing. Another step. JJ yelped in pain as a link on Rafe’s watch caught on his skin and ripped it, and more blood tricked down his cheeks, down his neck. It dripped on the sand in a steady pattern, staining the wet grains red. Another step. JJ kicked up at Rafe, trying to flip the pair. Rafe’s grip on him stopped him from doing so, but that didn’t mean he stopped struggling. Another step. JJ’s shirt pulled up to reveal bruising on his ribs — Y/N wasn’t sure whether that was from Rafe or his dad, and she wasn’t sure which one she’d be more content with.

Finally, she reached him, shoving Rafe off of him with an easy kick and grabbing JJ’s hand to pull him up, an irritated but concerned frown on her face as she began pulling him through the crowd, ignoring Rafe’s shouts behind her. Now, she wasn’t thinking — she’d done this so often she didn’t need to think. She could just do, and not pay attention to anything else for once, and, for that, she was grateful.

He stumbled with her as she lead him towards John B’a house, an arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist in their usual way, as if Y/N felt even marginally close to usual. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her lungs constricted and her throat a narrow passageway. Breathing seemed to burn, and with each step she seemed to double in weight and half in speed. JJ’s arm was heavy on her shoulders as he rested a lot of his weight on her, and it took them a long time to reach John B’s — by that point, the other Pogues had joined them, and John B and Pope had managed to get JJ off of Y/N and have themselves take his weight, instead, which increased their pace considerably.

Eventually, they got the near-unconscious boy to lay out across his bed, and Y/N was running to get the rubbing alcohol before anyone else had the time to think, because that was her speciality. She was back at JJ’s side within a second, and only paused when she realised she’d have to be over him to clean his wounds.

He smiled at her, blood in his mouth and trickling down his chin, one eye already bruising and his lids squinted until the point they were almost shut.

She frowned, but decided that thinking would waste time she didn’t have if she wanted to stop anything, and threw one leg over him to straddle him, resulting in him giving her an award-winning smirk that would’ve made her blush scarlet in any other situation.

“You know, if you wanted to—” he began to murmur between the occasional spit of blood, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Shut it, JJ. You’re not attractive when you’ve got blood on your teeth.”

She leant forwards, tipping rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and raising a hand to his face. He hissed when it made contact with his skin, but, having done this many times before, didn’t make another sound, just watched her with red-rimmed eyes. “But I am otherwise?”

Y/N could smell the combination of weed, alcohol and blood on his breath, and grimaced, continuing to dab at his face carefully. Thankful the other Pogues had left the room when she started to straddle him, she muttered back, “That’s not what I said.”

“Really? Because it sounded like it to me.” he retorted. She rolled her eyes, shifting her position above his lap. His hands moved to her waist instinctively, steadying her, and she had to force herself not to gasp at the sudden, unexpected contact. This only caused his smirk to widen, though Y/N was unsure what he was expecting her reaction to be. After all, she’d been talking about how much she wanted to get laid for months, having not had sex since her boyfriend broke up with her over six months ago. “You alright there, Y/N?”

“I hate you,” she murmured, but it stung bitterly as she said it, because it wasn’t true. In fact, it was the opposite of the truth, because, as much as she hated it, she’d been dumb enough to fall in love with her oldest friend, her friend who could have almost any girl he wanted, and would certainly never pick her out of those girls.

JJ responded quietly, his voice teasing but words a painful sting, even though that was the opposite of how he intended them. “You love me.”

Yeah, I do, Y/N thought angrily. She’d spent too many nights wallowing in self pity over her unrequited love, and tonight was the night she decided she was getting over him, because she was fucking fed up of the hurt.

“Aww, don’t be shy about it,” JJ continued joking. “I love you too.”

Y/N had had enough, then, and she looked into his pale blue eyes, lit only dimly by the faint moonlight. Y/N doubted it’d matter; she knew his face better than she knew her own. And his eyes? She could tell you every single seemingly unnoticeable detail about them. Only then did he notice the tears in her’s, threatening to spill. Y/N always cried when she was angry, though, right now, JJ couldn’t tell whether she was angry or hurt. Perhaps both.

“Do you love me, or are you in love with me, JJ?” she demanded.

JJ frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Is there a difference?”

Y/N snorted, though it sounded like more of a scoff. “Yes, JJ! Of course there’s a fucking difference! I love my mom, I’m not in love with my mom! But I’m in love with you, JJ, and I wish you were in love with me too, but I know you’re not, and. . .”

By this point, Y/N’s words had drowned into nothing. Her tears were spilling, dripping down her cheeks and onto the pair of them. Her lip wobbled as she spoke, eyes having left him as she started talking and now refusing to land anywhere near him, flitting from one corner of the room to the other.

JJ wasn’t focussed on that, though, he was focussed on his sudden realisation that maybe he might be in love with Y/N. Maybe the anger he’d felt when she started dating her last boyfriend hadn’t been anger at all — maybe it’d been jealously. And maybe all of those glances he sent her way whenever she looked particularly pretty weren’t just platonic admiration, maybe they were romantic adoration. And maybe when he wanted to hug her for longer than the other Pogues, it wasn’t because they were best friends, it was because he wanted to be as near to her as possible for as long as possible because he loved Y/N L/N.

And holy shit, if that realisation wasn’t a big one.

JJ didn’t think before he was grabbing her damp cheeks and pulling her face to his. He was glad he didn’t, because, then, he might’ve thought himself out of it, like Y/N had done so many times before.

Her lips were soft against his, and it felt a thousand times different to any girl he’d ever kissed. When she pulled back, he found himself chasing after her mouth, wanting more — and then immediately blushing when he realised what he’d done because he’d never done that before. She was looking at him with a confused frown on her face, lips slightly parted and tears still slowly trickling down her cheeks, between JJ’s fingers and along his cracked skin.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

JJ grinned, the shithead grin Y/N hated to admit she loved. “A kiss, stupid.”

“Yeah but. . . why’d you kiss me?” Y/N questioned, heart racing in her chest as she waited impatiently for the answer.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

#outer banks imagine #obx imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks #obx jj #obx x reader #popcsheywards

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jrueships · 3 years

Note

Not to be a gremlin buuuuuuut would you care to share your redacted thoughts on trae/John 👀 because I would love to hear them 😳

IMMA BE HONEST ANON.. They're mainly just [redacted] loose random ideas I think with about absolutely NO explanation whatsoever so.. 😭 it's nothing like.. SPECTACULAR but 😳😳 u know like I just can't give u the whole spiel rn 😭

But I'll give random tidbits anyways 😎

Okay so I'll start with like.. the SCENARIO I was thinking about before. So like-

Trae and John go out clubbing to celebrate a win. They're recently new to the NBA, trae more-so Collins, so they've got a little pride in their win and wanna have fun and get some hotties. But, the win wasn't at home, so most of the people at the club pretty much hated them for beating a team that was supposed to win instead of the hawks. Basically, they get no bitches.

And trust me. They did EVERYTHING to get bitches.

Trae would have John go up to women and try and be a good wingman, advertise Trae's attractiveness, Nope. Nada. Trae put in his and John's favorite song. Nobody even wanted to dance with them. It was just John and trae dancing by themselves.. which was fine and all because they usually just dance together anyways, but it Did look a little awkward so… That ended quickly. A lady throws her shoe at them, to which trae keeps because fuck her and her shoe. Now bitch can hobble back home with one barefoot like a crunked up Cinderella

BUT IN END RESULT, they left the club with no bitches and hurt egos.

During the drive back to their hotel, Trae complained the whole way. He goes from frustrated to flabbergasted to angry to despairing to annoyed. The whole drive is just him ranting about 'bitches' and how he got none. John keeps pitching in by complaining as well, also showing confusion, equal anger, empathizing, and equal, if not more, Annoyance at the women's denials as well.

And then John says something like "if /I/ was a female, ((we all know how straight men talk yall.)) I'd TOTALLY find you hot, dude!"

That's when the car gets quiet.

John realizes what he said and quickly tries joking it off, giving a hurried "no homo though!" And laughing nervously.

Trae starts to laugh and everything is a rushed, awkward fine again. Trae even jokes about it when they park at the hotel, getting out first and opening John's car door for him in mock romance. The charade goes on for a while to lighten things up until the slip up is nothing of serious substance…

A few drinks to drown out their pussyless sorrows and things start to get a little tipsy. Silly drunk conversations conjure while they sit on trae's hotel room bed, but nothing of big talk.. Not until Trae reminds himself about his scoreless night and starts ranting until he gets sad again. Thick brow furrowed, he squinted blurred at the ground and trails his funny gaze up John's physique. He asks something akin to the lines of "hey… remember when you said like… if you were a woman… you'd find me hot?" To which John panics but confirms nonetheless…

Trae goes o h and they sit in awkward silence. They both painfully finish their like. 4th beer of the night. Then trae finally breaks the silence by asking,

"So… like.. hypothesis..-ly… hypo...hypocritically-"

"Hypothetically ?"

"Yeah. That's what I said. Anyways. Hypothesisly… if you Were a woman.. would you also .. fuck me?"

SO YEAH. THERES MORE TO IT UHH THEY FUCK (DUH) AND THEY BOTH WAKE UP IN THE SAME BED AND PANIC NOT REMEMBERING ANYTHING.. but they find that one shoe the woman threw at them strewn by the door so … of course their straight minds (desperately) convince themselves that they had an EPICLY AWESOME AND HOT threesome with a SMOKING HOT BABE who quickly fled the scene. … And maybe their d*cks mightve touched ONCE and MAYBE trae feels like touching John's ass is far more familiar than he'd like but… THINGS HAPPEN IN THE DARK OK. IT'S HARD TO SEE…

In conclusion, they drunk fucked and convinced themselves that they didn't drunk fuck 😭

But my random weird ideas about them fucking just in general are like…

OKAY OKAY. I know we all love to see short and tall ships.. and the general CONSENSUS is that the taller one is the top but THERES SMTHIN ABOUT THE SHORTER ONE TOPPING THAT IS.. GOOD. OKAY?? So. Yeah. Trae tops LMFAO. HES JUST SO… CLEVERLY ?? SCHEMEY THAT?? He just Is the top ok. THEY CAN SWITCH and john can be the service top to power bottom Trae but.. they have to develop past their straightness for that level 😭

BUT ANYWAYS MORE ABOUT TOP TRAE.. he is literally Only hot to John LMFAO. He says and does the cheesiest shit in bed. If he was with anyone else, he'd turn them off by just getting naked down to his batman underwear. But luckily he is with John, his dumbly devoted best friend <3

More about them in bed tho…

Okay so picture John on the bed getting fucked by Trae standing on the floor because it's too hard for Trae to top with such a height difference LMAO… John is bent on his back and his long legs are hooked over trae's shoulders.. Trae turns his head to kiss his legs all sweet… John starts to whimper out a moan but then. Trae puts a finger to his lips and makes a shushing motion like he did to the knicks crowd KABXJS

Like when trae wants to fuck??? They fuck. In a hotel room with their teammates staying like?? Literally next door? Doesn't matter. They gonna fuck. Just so trae can have the cheesy NERVE of shushing john when their sex is getting too loud. Even though TRAE is the verbal one…

And by verbal like.. bad porn verbal. Loud obnoxious grunting. Keeps asking John if he likes it. How 'big he is'. Asks how much John Wants it. Then doesn't let John formulate any kind of intelligible response because he's already leaning down to bite the long length of his neck.

SPEAKING OF BITING.. trae is definitely a biter. LMAO… he bites the insides of John's thighs, his neck, the slope of his shoulder, anywhere he can claim his stake, he Claims it. (Even the ass 😭 he's cursed like that man.) Afterwards in the aftercare he trails over his bite marks and kisses them and says smthin stupidly cocky like "you're a work of art and baby I'm your artist"

Trae in general is just a very passionate lover. If he wants John in a different position, he'll PUT John in a different position. Trae wants to do all the work to please John and himself and John just wants to please Trae. Trae will do anything bro. Eating ass, giving or getting (by getting like. Hand on hair Always) the sloppy toppy, having John ride him like. Bro got a fiesty libido.

And John just lets Trae take whatever he wants. He mainly doesn't have the strength to spit out terrible pornstar lines, so he settles for just.. desperately chanting out a slurred series of "bros/dudes/mans/any other term frat bros use to lovingly regale each other in". But yeah. He spends most of his time trying to look at Trae and think about how much he loves him 😭 and how hot he thinks he is right now like this. They're VERY much into looking at each other when having sex, but they weren't at the start though. At the beginning it was a whole "You don't look at me, I don't look at you" deal that was quickly broken when Trae pushed in and they both finally realized how much they want each other so …

ANYWAYS… YEAH.. them being [redacted] together is always like… on the VERGE of being sexy until one of them ruins it somehow (but the other will always find it sexy somehow. The sensible readers just won't 😭). Like if Trae is clapping John's cheeks and they make a funny sound, they're both gonna stop and laugh at how much it sounded like John farted. They're just two stupid guys in stupid love baby!!!!

#THIS ONE IS LONG... IM A LIL EMBARRASSED ABOUT IT LMAO #ted asks #redacted redacted redacted #THEYRE RLLY NOT THAT HOT TOGETHER #THEY THEMSELVES JUST THINK THEY ARE #ted drabbles #john/trae

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rekrappeter · 4 years

Text

to be loved by you || pope heyward

pairing: pope heyward x fem!reader, fem!reader x unrequited!jj maybank

warnings: cursing, angst, typos

summary: people are made to be loved, but not every love is shared

notes: i personally don’t know what this is, @diverdcwn told me to listen to a song over and over again and this is what i wrote. please let me know what you think, thank you lovies!

Have you ever been so in love with someone that whenever they were around, you struggled to breathe? It was as if someone had their knee buckled in your chest, you were gasping for breaths but then they smiled at you, and everything fell into place. Their smile washed away any worry you were feeling, the twinkling in their eyes made you feel at home. That’s how you felt when you looked at JJ Maybank. You were so madly in love with your best friend that it felt wrong, but yet so right.

You fell in love with him so easily, he didn’t give you much of a choice. You loved him for how wild and spontaneous he was. You loved him for how he could make the worst day of your life feel like a mere roadblock in your life. You loved him for how he made you step outside of your comfort zone and live your life to the fullest. But the only consequence of falling in love with someone that is so erratic was that they rarely ever loved you back. He was too focused on the next step, too focused on that next trip that would get his blood rushing. He didn’t have time for love.

Loving JJ Maybank was frustrating yet so wonderful at the same time, even if it was unrequited. You accepted that he’d never love you back, but you never got over it. It’s why you found yourself sitting on a table in The Wreck, watching your friends eat leftover fries and drinking warm beer. If you couldn’t love JJ romantically, you were going to keep that friendship there, keep him close so that you could still feel him.

You laughed at JJ and Kie, watching them dance stupidly to some song playing over the speakers. Your legs were crossed on the wooden table, moving your shoulders to the beat. You ignored the looks JJ gave Kie, the longing looks that he was so used to getting from you. JJ was not only focused on the next step, but he was more focused on the other female that blessed your group of friends.

Of course, it made you sad. Of course, it made you feel worthless. But the world works in mysterious ways and the people that you love, don’t always love you back in the same way. There was no point in dwelling on it or crying over it until the sun rose above the horizon. You learnt that at a young age, after many nights crying about how JJ couldn’t love you back but you accepted the fact that he wasn’t made to love you.

You felt a hand graze your knee, eyes flickering from the couple dancing in the centre of the restaurant to the man that knew all your deepest and darkest secrets. Pope Heyward; your knight in shining armor. He gave you a supportive smile, his pearl whites brightening your mood instantly.

“Come dance with me,” He nodded his head to the couple, taking your hand and helping you off the table. He twirled you around, making you giggle softly and he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. He swayed you to the side, and you let him lead you, trusting him. He sang the lyrics to the song in your ear as you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

You were so lost in the moment, listening to his voice wrap around you so gently. You loved Pope’s voice - if anyone asked you to name the one thing that calms you down intensely, the answer without a doubt would be his voice. He knew what he was doing, he used this to distract you from letting the negative thoughts enter your mind and every time it worked.

“You good now?” Pope asked softly, bringing your face to look up at him when he finished singing.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you smiled at him, chuckling as he pretended to think about the answer before nodding confidently.

“I’m pretty great,” he smugly replied, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Guys, we’re going to head out, can you lock up?” Kie grinned at you, throwing the keys at you already knowing your answer. It wasn’t unusual for you or Pope to lock up The Wreck, you enjoyed the quietness of the restaurant when it wasn’t as busy as during the day.

You bid goodbye to the pogues that left in pairs, leaving you and Pope standing in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. “You know, Kie didn’t even mop the floors.” Pope informed you, making you groan.

“She always leaves that for me,” you pouted, walking to the backroom and prepping the mop bucket. When you returned, Pope was lifting the chairs up onto the table, and you smiled gratefully at him. “You can sing to me while I do this,” you suggested.

“Ehhh how about no?” Pope laughed, walking around the restaurant.

He watched you roll your eyes again, ignoring the fuzzy feeling in his stomach at the sight. It was something that always had an effect on him, seeing you roll your eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because you did it so often messing with him, or the fact that you looked so good doing it. He leaned on the bar, watching you start to mop the floor.

Have you ever been so in love with someone that watching them do the most mundane things made your heart want to leap out of your chest? That’s how Pope felt when he watched you, he watched you dance with the mop mouthing the lyrics to the song playing. He didn’t have much of a choice falling in love with you, you made it so easy. He loved how you didn’t even have to try but yet you made him laugh and smile. He loved how you didn’t even work at The Wreck but yet here you were mopping the floors. He loved how you knew every song that came on the radio, and even if you didn’t know the words, you’d still try sing along. But the only consequence of falling in love with you, was watching you fall in love with someone else.

“What are you thinking about, pretty boy?” you asked, walking by him and playfully dragging the mop over the tip of his converses.

Pope tried to protest but when his eyes flickered from his now wet shoes to your face, he lost all ambition to speak. The way that the sunset drifted in through the windows of The Wreck, the light hit you right across the face, making your eyes sparkle. Every inch of you just looked perfect. And in fear of making himself look like a fool, Pope blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re beautiful.”

You weren’t sure if you heard him right, your brows furrowing close together. “W-what?” you coughed out, seeing the panic look cross his face. Pope looked away from you, mumbling something completely incoherent. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Just forget that I said that,” Pope muttered, pushing past you and rushing towards the door.

“Pope, where are you going?” You called out, trying to stiffen a laugh. You don’t know why he was running away, you knew where he lived and if he wasn’t there, he’d be at John B’s. You dropped the mop and chased after him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to run as far as he wanted to because he wasn’t the most athletic one in your group.

“Shit, y/n, can you just forget that I said that?” Pope pleaded, turning to face you all of a sudden making you crash against his chest.

“Why would I want to forget that?” you asked.

“Because you’re in love with JJ and it just makes everything more complicated,” Pope sighed, running his hands over his face in frustration.

You frowned at his words, “So because I’m in love with JJ means that you can’t think I’m attractive?”

“Attractive? Hell, you’re better than that. Yo-You’re absolutely out of this world, every aspect of you.”

“Pop-”

“No, this is why I wanted you to forget it because once the words start coming, I don��t think I’ll be able to stop...” Pope started to pace, using his hands to speak but you watched in silence, letting him get whatever he wanted off his chest, “You love JJ, I get it, okay? But I want you to know that he’s a god damn bloody idiot for not loving you back. If that were me, I wouldn’t waste a second in putting a ring on that hand because you’re so damn precious and I-I love you, I love you like you love JJ, and it kills me.” Pope sighed, stopping in his tracks and he did everything to make sure he wasn’t making eye contact with you.

“Since when?” You asked, your voice a mere whisper. You thought back to those nights when Pope comforted you crying about JJ, and you realised now how much pain it may have caused.

“Pffft, since, I don’t know... your twelfth birthday? your eleventh birthday? forever? It feels like forever honestly...”

You hesitantly closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his and pulling him into an embrace. He was tense at first but melted into your body, allowing his arms to wrap around you. “I’m so sorry,” You mumbled into his ear, rubbing his back. You felt him shake his head in the crook of your neck, your hearts were pounding against one another.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, you’re still my best friend.” Pope whispered, his breathe warming your skin.

“It’s an honour to be loved by you.”

#pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward imagine #pope heyward imagines #pope heyward fanfic #pope heyward blurb #pope heyward oneshot #pope #obx #outer banks #obx pope #pope x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks writing #outer banks x reader #fanfic

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danicarosaline · 4 years

Text

Just My Type | JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader | Ch. 2

Summary: You may perhaps have this tiny attraction to a certain flirty pogue that works for your step dad. All the while your mother is trying to set you up with boys who she thinks are your type.

Warnings: cringe af & a slow a$$ burn and not proof read!! 💖🤩

Authors Note: thank you to those who are interested in this! This chapter is a long one but I don’t think ill be keeping the rest of the chapters that long? But who knows tbh. Hope you enjoy this one💛

After spending the entire afternoon with Kie doing the absolute most by snacking on the pancakes you managed to cook successfully, braiding each other’s hair and asking about her love life since she recently came out to you as queer when you caught her checking out a few tourists that passed you both when y’all went out shopping few weeks back.

See, you kind of knew this about Kiara. You kind of thought she had a little crush on Sarah Cameron when you both were friends with her back then but never had the actually guts to question her about it. You weren’t sure if Kie even knew about that part of herself yet, so you waited a couple years more to finally ask her about it when you were very sure.

What you weren’t expecting though, was to ask her about it in such a blunt way, especially in the middle of the mall where a few bystanders where nearby who glanced your way at such a question. You didn’t mean to to be so forward, but it just came out out of suspicion and all those times you held back from asking Kie.

Luckily for you, she didn’t pay no mind to the eavesdroppers around and answered your question confidently with a huge smile on her pretty face. Already having used to you being so straightforward and upfront about everything.

She loves that about you.

You both sadly decided to call it a day but not before her inviting you to a kegger the pogues were throwing this weekend. To say you were beyond excited for your first party is an understatement and to finally be meeting those boys Kie never shuts up about.

Wanting to dress to impress, you already plan out your outfit for that night. Not because you’re indecisive and take hours to get ready of course. (It’s definitely that reason though)

The weekend finally arrives and you’re just about done getting ready for the kegger tonight. You were dressed in a cute short summer dress paired with some white low top converses and went to double check your natural glam’d up face in the vanity mirror incase of needing to reapply lipgloss.

After readjusting the natural strip lashes that you had on, your phone began to buzz. Signaling a text from no other than the beautiful brunette herself.

Kiekie🌺: hi bby im out the front xx

You: coming babes😍

Kiekie🌺: dont forget the vodka!! 🥵

You: already in the bag babygorl😏

Kiekie🌺: dont call me that pls its cringe )):

Snickering at her reply, you quickly throw in some extra stuff in your bag incase of emergencies (never knowing when you need to reapply gloss again) and made your way downstairs. Passing your parents in the dining room, you wave goodbye and blow kisses at them quickly to avoid conversation but just your luck they stop you before you made it to the door.

“Y/n your dress is too short!” Your mother declares as she eyes up your outfit whilst your step father agrees with a nod of his head and furrowed eyebrows.

“You are outgrowing that dress Y/n” the man adds with a shake of his head as he sets his eyes back down to the iPad in front of him.

“Oh stop it you two It still fits perfectly fine and you both know its my favourite, anyways bye bye love yous!! ” you wave again and rush out the front door before they can say anything else.

“Wha- wait just a minute young lady!” Your mother beckons but its too late you’re inside Kiara’s car, fastening your seatbelt as you both laugh at hearing your mother’s loud voice from inside the house.

—————————————————————

The party was in full swing when you both arrived.

Kooks, pogues and tourons all mashed up together in one beach as if there were no social classes between the three divided groups. Guess alcohol really does change the way people mingle when consumed.

Looking around, you recognise a few kids that go to your school swaying to the RnB music and drinking away like they have no care in the world and starting to actually get nervous when you spot familiar classmates you used to call your friends. Feeling anxious, you kinda wanna go home now.

Your thoughts were interrupted to Kie linking your arms together, “lets go meet the pogues!” Eyes twinkling at the thought of her bestfriend finally getting to meet her other bestfriends. With that said, you let her practically drag you off to where she knows they’ll be. A grin making its way on your face, forgetting ever wanting to go home just seconds before.

She introduces you to John B first, since he was the only one there serving out drinks to the tourons. He swats away at your hand when you reach out to give a handshake. Instead, the curly brunet embraces you in a tight bear hug, suffocating you with his built figure. Saying something about not needing to be so formal with him, already having to get to know you from Kie and also not forgetting to throw a compliment at your choice of outfit.

Moments later, a dark skinned male makes his appearance known by accidentally tripping over a log in front of you, mumbling out curses to himself. While the others burst out in tears from laughing you only giggle a little in hopes not to embarrass him more, helping the poor boy up to his feet and asking if he’s okay.

When he sets his brown eyes on you, he recognises you immediately as the daughter of one of the nice kooks he makes deliveries for and starts stuttering out apologies as if he offended you. You snort at this boy’s weird behaviour and reassure him that theres no need to apologise to you.

John B tells the boy your name and his eyes lit up, “Ive made plently of deliveries to your house! Who would of thought you’d be the famous Y/n Kie always mentions? Im Pope by the way” embracing you in gentle hug.

You’ve spent almost an hour with the trio and you have yet to meet the other boy because you swore there was three of them from all the stories Kie has told you.

“Wasn’t there three of you?” Moving your manicured finger to the two handsome boys infront of you. They smile at you and gave a little nod.

“Oh yeah! he’s-“

“YO POPE, JOHN B! Check this shit out man!”

A loud booming voice roars from behind you making you jump slightly. Swiveling around from where you stood, you are faced with a beaming tall blond. Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes only focused at the boy infront of you.

His attention is fixed on the two males behind you, beckoning them to come over to where he was.

There he stood, watching two young tourons brawling. Finding it absolutely hilarious because from where you are, you can clearly see that they are doing a terrible job at throwing each other down on the sand.

John B and Pope darted to the blond with Kie in tow, linking your arms through yours as she drags you to the scene.

The tourons are are stupidly wrestling on the ground now, making you and Kie cringe at the second hand embarressment. Though you both find it kinda funny.

“Alright alright break it up squirts” the blond demands as he pulls one kid off the other, with John B helping the other kid up off the sand.

“Ill freaking kill you Seb!”

“Hey- hey! Take a walk man” John B forces the kid back when he tried to come at the other kid, making the blond laugh again.

“Its not a kegger if theres not atleast one fight happenin” Pope turns to you and Kie with his hands placed on his hips, making Kie chuckle with a shake of her head at the comment.

“So does this always happen at your keggers?” You ask with amusement lacing your question.

“Sure does princess” you all face the voice, the blond appearing to your rights. You feel your face instantly heat up at the sight of him smirking down at you like he usually does whenever he catches you staring. Biting your bottom lip to supress a giggle at the nickname he gave you.

“So Y/n this here is-“

As Kie was about to reveal the name of the cute blond that was peering at you, John B whoops loudly jogging back to the group and unknowingly interrupting her with his loud laughter.

“Touron fights are officially my favourite thing!” The brunet hollers, making the group crack up laughing. Something y’all have been doing alot this entire night as it seems.

You’re gonna fit in just fine.

————————————————————

When the kegger starts to lessen with people, you decide to help Kie pick up some of the red solo cups discarded all around the beach. Picking up only what you can whilst tipsy.

You’re not much of a drinker yourself to be honest. Only because your parents never gave you a taste, being underage and all. Only sneaking in a few drinks from Kie at sleepovers here and there so your not technically alien to the idea of drinking overall.

And yes you’re definitely a lightweight.

After picking up a couple more cups and other trash, throwing them in a black plastic trash bag, you and Kiara head up at the “Chateau” which you now know was John B’s place.

Once arrived, Kie sets up the pull out couch and lays down, completely exhausted from all the dancing and drinking she did with you. You and the boys following her actions. With Pope laying down next to Kie and you, John B and the blond sat on the bed facing the two laying down. Finding it amusing that Pope passed out already.

John B letting out a yawn as he gets up from his seating position on the couch, not before saying bye to you and kissing your head goodnight.

The interaction doesn’t suprise you since Kie has warned you about how affectionate these boys can be but it still caused your cheeks to heat up anyways.

“Want me to take you home?”

Tearing your attention away from John B drunkily making his way to his room, your e/c falls on the blond infront of you, crossed legged with his hands resting behind him to keep him upright in the sitting position. You glance down at Kie and Pope, both have passed out peacefully.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, i can just get an uber” you whisper to the cute blond as you get up from the couch and start making your way to the door.

He doesn’t take no for an answer and starts following you out, not before grabbing the keys to John B’s beaten up van. Rolling your eyes but not helping the smile you throw his way at his kindness.

The drive wasn’t silent or awkward at all. The both of you getting along quite well, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. Him throwing compliments your way here and there that leaves you a stuttering mess.

He loves how shy you are to his flirtation. The girls he’s hit on has always been just as flirty with him but they’ve never shyed away like you have.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves confidence in a woman and never have he thought he’d find it adorable for a girl to be this nervous around him but here you are. Being completely submissive.

You emit pure innocence. Which makes him want to be protective of you.

Finally pulling up into your driveway, you search your house windows for any signs of anyone being awake inside. Noticing no lights or movement in your house, you turn to face the blond who was already looking at you.

Your heart rate starts to pick up as you stare right back into those baby blues, the lights on the edge of the road acts as a spot light on the handsome blond, focusing on all his musculine features. Skin glowing so luminously.

He’s so handsome.

“What?”

“What??”

OH NO DID YOU SAY THAT OUT LOUD!? YOU STUPID BIT-

“Did you just call me handsome?” He leans over, and smiles at you cheekily, that tiny dimple playing at the corner of his mouth.

Play dumb.

“What no??” He chuckles boyishly at your response and pushes back pieces of hair that managed to fall on his forehead, not breaking eye contact with you once.

“Well to be fair. You’re pretty gorgeous to look at too L/n, a pure sight for sore eyes” He moves closer as he runs a knuckle down your forearm and sends you a wink. Your heart is beating out of your chest now and you’re convinced he could hear it.

Not necessarily knowing how to respond to the blond, you shove him away gently and cup your heated cheeks. Shying away once again.

He lets out a cute laugh which you found so angelic coming from someone who is by far a comparison to one after having heard of all the crazy shit this boy has done in the past.

though, he’s physically otherworldly.

“Im just teasing ya” he voiced as he messes up your hair by ruffling through them with his ring clad fingers. You giggle at this with a shake of your head, you open the car door and walk out. With him following behind you.

“So you’ll be hanging out with us more often right?” He asks almost seeming nervous when he shoves his hands down his pocket.

“When i get invited out then yes, i guess so” you face him, swaying back and forth on your heels as you both stop at the front door of your house.

“Oh trust me, you will be. We all had a great time with you tonight” he replies with a lick of his lips, eyeing you up and down.

Don’t fucking test me, i will kiss you right here, right now.

“I did too” you whisper, placing a piece of hair behind your ear.

There was an awkward silence. None of you not knowing what to say for the first time during the entire night. He scratches the back of his head, wishing you a goodnight- well technically a goodmorning whilst slowly walking backwards to the van. Still maintaining eye contact as if he didn’t wanna tear his eyes away from you anytime soon.

“See you soon?”

“See you soon princess”

Warmth spreading across your chest to hearing that nickname again. You wave and turn away from the handsome blond but pausing in your tracks as you come to remember something important.

“Wait!!” The boy halts in his tracks at your sudden outburst.

Feeling the heat decorating your face again from embarressment, you finally ask “what’s your name?”

He’s chuckling at the realisation that nobody, not even himself has told you his name. He’s known about you for months, he’s heard your name be called the very first time he first laid eyes on you. You’ve been pinning on him for months. Not once have you heard his name be called out loud by anyone else. You were always too shy to ask anybody for his name, which was quite dumb, really.

“The name’s JJ Maybank princess, its a pleasure to make your acquaintance”

Taglist: @alotbnouf @elhopqer @arthiriticcricket @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid @urlocalbrochure @cocoopalace @teamnick @lolitstiana @99sxuxii @styles-edward-harry @essencityv

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sharkfish · 4 years

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late summer recs in the endless year of our lord 2020

masterpost of rec lists /// yeah it’s october but i’m in texas so it’s still basically summer!

*~*~*~if you like the fics, give love to the author via kudos and/or comments!!*~*~*~*~

under the cut to prevent endless scrolling~

8 Reasons by Threshie ***WIP***

Space pilot Dean is caught trying to break Sam out of prison, and ends up tossed into a cell with a half-man, half tentacly monster alien.

Adagio by noangelsinthegarrison (6k)

“His name’s Dean," Cas sighs, "And he’s really stupidly attractive, and when he dances, he feels it, you know? And it makes me feel like I know him, even though I don’t. He makes me feel like… like he’s dancing just for me.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Wow, you’re over-dramatic when you’re horny.”

And He's Oh So Good by @jemariel ***WIP*** - completed, 10/13 chapters posted

Dean Smith is a man of routine, and it's been working very well for him, thank you very much.

Then Castiel walks into his life, and suddenly there's a splash of color that reveals just how gray everything had been before.

Can Dean let himself step out of his comfortable shell and experience the good things in life that he's forgotten about?

A Thousand Lies by @goldenraeofsun (73k)

Dean Winchester is the best con artist in the continental US. Conscripted into the life after a stupid mistake as a teenager, he works for a man only known as the Lightbringer. He specializes in the marriage con, tricking his marks into falling in love with him and bolting after the honeymoon with everything they own.

But the morning before his meticulously planned meet-cute with his newest assignment, he runs into an adorably clueless accountant named Cas in a coffee shop, and Dean’s entire view on life implodes.

Christmas Treats and Angel Heats by @malmuses (20k)

Angels don't have a sex, or gender, nevermind a secondary gender—right? At least, that's what the Winchesters have been led to believe.

It's Christmas, and Dean misses his angel friend. He's been AWOL for days, and the Winchesters are worried.

When Cas returns to the bunker on Christmas Eve, very clearly in heat, a few of their assumptions are going to have to change.

Oh, and Dean is going to have to hide his feelings for Cas in the face of the news that the angel is an unmated omega, who desperately needs their help.

Merry Christmas, Dean!

Cliché Bingo by noangelsinthegarrison (3k)

Sometimes, Castiel thinks that if he were playing a game of cliché bingo with his own life he’d get a full house within seconds. He’s the smart kid who wears glasses; he’s the Christian who wears sweater vests; he’s the quietest, youngest son in a family of seven and, oh yes, he’s in love with Dean Winchester.

Who just happens to be his best friend. And his neighbour. And a jock. So that’s three in one right there.

Blaze And Fall by @casbeanwrites (13k)

Dean's not handling his best friend and ex-roommate's "kinks" very well.

Until he learns how to handle them.

Dean Winchester and the Patron Saint of Blind Dates by @goldenraeofsun (18k)

Dean Winchester's friends are a bunch of traitors. So he had a bad breakup two years ago and hasn't gotten back on the horse. Their intervention - a series of blind dates - can't be the solution.

But if this'll get his friends to stop, Dean can choke down over-priced spaghetti, make forced conversation, and drink whatever random cocktail the blue-eyed weirdo bartender makes for him next.

At least Cas has his back. One nod from Dean, and he'll swoop down from behind the bar and make excuses for Dean to bail. It would be a perfect system - except Dean can't stop trading knowing looks with Cas and focus on his damn dates instead.

From Ashes by kradarua (12k)

“You’ll be able to use your legs again,” Sam rushed, “just...well, it might take a while.”

Dean exhaled sharply, frustrated, but forced himself to raise his head and take a look.

Dean gets injured on the job, and Castiel falls in love with him by mistake.

Head Down, Walk with Reason by @goldenraeofsun (63k)

As an omega, Castiel is ineligible for the throne after his father dies. When his uncle takes the crown, Metatron's first order of business is to arrange a betrothal with King John for the hand of his firstborn son, the Crown Prince of Terra.

So Castiel flees.

On his first night on the run, Castiel stumbles into a band of outlaws just at the border. Injured and wary, he has no choice to stay with them. And although he had planned to return to his own kingdom once it was safe, home might not be the place he left, but instead with Dean, their alpha leader that took him in.

Russian to the Altar by @malmuses (144k)

“I need you to marry Castiel.”

They weren’t the words Dean expected to hear from his business partner’s mouth before their bakery-slash-chocolate shop opened for the day. He’d been quite happy being single—and who the fuck was Castiel, anyway?

It turned out that Castiel was a Russian erotic novelist in need of a ticket to America, and Dean… well, Dean was a last resort.

Save the Drake by VioletHaze (@scones-and-texting-and-murder) (33k)

Encouraged by his best friend Meg to create more connections in his life, Cas jumps into an online discussion surrounding the closing of the Drake, an independent and historic theater in his neighborhood. If nothing else, the confidence Cas gains as he makes a new online friend helps him to be less awkward around the guy in his building that he likes: Dean Winchester.

It’s not like Dean Winchester needs help meeting people, but a hasty decision to comment on a local news article leads him to make a virtual connection. It's a new sort of relationship for Dean, but soon the two of them are chatting all day long. He only wishes getting to know his downstairs neighbor Cas was this simple.

Sparks by vipjuly (21k)

The creepy house on the corner has been abandoned for years, everyone says. It's ramshackle and decrepit, the yard overgrown, the wrought iron fence bent and broken in some places. The adults in the neighborhood have asked the city to do something about that eyesore for so long, but the city insists that someone is paying property taxes on the house, therefore they cannot do anything about it.

So, everyone ignores it and pretends it doesn't exist. They definitely don't go anywhere near it, either.

Dean, though.

Dean is drawn to it as if by gravity.

Little by little, Dean repairs what he can. The monster inside the house ain't so bad, either.

Y'know. For a monster.

Such Familiar Magic by @saltnhalo (26k)

When solitary witch Castiel finds an injured dog unconscious in his garden, he takes it in. He's expecting to heal it, look after it for a few days, then perhaps return it to its owners.

He's not expecting it to be one of the strongest familiars he's ever met.

Sugar Stages by VioletHaze (6k)

He heard Dean before he saw him. It was like he brought an energy into the test kitchen that crept under Cas’s skin, an awareness of his carefree attitude that was equal parts calming and infuriating. Still, Cas resisted the urge to turn and look over his shoulder. He knew damn well how the internet talked, the way they “shipped” them, always zeroing in on what they considered lingering looks. He’d seen too many gifs of himself with his eyes photoshopped into hearts not to be aware of the way his every word and action with regard to Dean were being scrutinized.

You Shook Me All Quarantine Long series by @goldenraeofsun (4 fics around 10k each)

A series of quarantine-based one-shots with Creature Cas and Human Dean.

#sharkrecs #destiel

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xfanfics · 4 years

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Destiel Fic Rec List Part 3

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 37 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

—–

Teenage Dirtbag by littleartemis E | 7k | Canon!verse, Hot, sub!dean, dom!cas

Dean gets magically deaged so he's physically young again. Problem is he's a 'twink' once more and he can't hunt like this. Frustrated he takes it out on Cas who's getting to the end of his patience and decides a spanking is in order. He just didn't figure in that Dean might enjoy it.

The Perks of Playing Quidditch by noangelsinthegarrison G | 1k | Fluff, Wizarding World AU

“So,” Dean coughs, drawing Cas’s attention back to his eyes, “Any chance this taught you not to fly when you’re sick? Cas chuckles low in his throat and thinks that if Dean Winchester catching him mid-air, strong arms holding him against a solid, warm chest, was his reward, he hasn’t learnt any such thing. He pushes the thought down before he can say it out loud and instead raises an eyebrow. “Dean, you played through a broken leg last year.

AGGHHHHHHHHHH SO CUTE

Adiago by noangelsinthegarrison G | 6k | Fluff, Dancer AU

This fic is super adorable. Lovely and full of pining, which happens to be my fave.

Good Clean Wholesome All-American Kink by Amelia_clark E | 2k Hot, Canon!verse

Dean's stronger than Cas now, and Cas kind of hates that. So Dean finds a way around it--he just needs to be tied up.

ImmMmMMmm HOT

Roots and Wings by Elensulev E | 51k [WIP] | BDSM AU, soulmate AU, sub!dean, dom!cas

In an alternate universe where you learn your soulmate sometime around puberty, Dean Winchester is shocked not just that he is a sub, but that a man's name appeared on his wrist. John Winchester doesn't suffer subs gladly, and Dean takes the brunt of his father's misogynistic attitude. Can the mysterious Castiel convince him he is worthwhile? AU where Sam and Dean are raised apart, Cas is human, and John is a hunter raised by a disgruntled Man of Letters.

A fusion of the soulmate's-name-on-the-wrist and the dom/sub verses. Though the John parts are painful to read (this fic is NOT for John-lovers), the over all effect is worth it, and gentle-dom!Cas is my absolute favorite. Edit from 2020: Holy SHIT this fic is long now.

Highwaymen. by orange_crushedv M | 66k | Harry Potter AU

Dean closes his eyes. He is under a blanket in his memories, fabric pulled up under his chin and his face pressed near to hers on the pillow. His father is asleep, snoring slightly, hands loose and expression happy, curled around her on the other side. She's speaking in whispers. He knows that she was already pregnant then, that Sam was on his way into their lives, even though he'd had no idea what exactly that meant at the time. He can almost see her face still, warm and orange in the light of her lumos circling their heads like a firefly, but every now and then she blurs in his vision, like a lost thread of consciousness, something half-remembered. Bit by bit, he's losing her.

The Wizarding World AU I never knew I wanted!

Understanding your body in ten easy steps by almaasi E | 12k | Canon!verse, Masturbation

All Dean has to do is track down a decent porno for Cas to watch, help him find his sensitive spots, then hang back and let him do his thing. Easy-peasy. No homo. ...Absolutely no homo at all.

Casturbation. Fuck yes.

Blackboard by lemonoclefox E | 76k | College AU, BDSM elements, sub!dean, dom!cas

Castiel Novak is a college English teacher, in a rather inappropriate relationship with Dean Winchester, who happens to be one of his students. But although their arrangement is one that works perfectly for the both of them, Castiel is starting to worry that maybe keeping it impersonal will be harder than he thought.

Perfect. The story is actually 8 chapters long, but the other 8 chapters are told from Dean's point of view.

On Air by wincechesters E | 21k | Fluff, Radio Host AU

Cas and Dean are radio DJs who host the second most popular morning show in Lawrence. They’ve been co-hosts for years at different stations across the country, and they own a house together out of necessity, even though they’re just friends. But for some reason, a lot of their listeners and even some of their friends and family seem to think that they’re secretly in some kind of relationship, which they’re totally not (besides that one time that totally doesn’t count). In spite of that, Dean thinks he’s got everything figured out, until an ill-fated on air game of Truth or Dare turns everything upside down (and the billboards around town aren’t helping either).

FLUFFY CUTENESS AWW

Courage of Stars by mcpadalacklesv T | 3k | College AU,

Dean's brain is stuck on 'he's leaving me he's leaving me' and he thinks about saying don't go or I'll come with you, but what comes out of his mouth is, "I don't think you get loose-leaf tea on the moon.Wherein Dean (who owns a bookstore) and Cas (an astrophysicist grad student) have been best friends since they were kids, NASA nearly screws things up, and tea is mentioned far too often.

THIS IS ADORABLE JFC. I loved the part about tea strainers omg

How to Improve a dull day by arigatou_sunshine E | 7k | Soulmates AU, ABO, omega!dean, alpha!cas

Dean's about to pick up something not on his grocery list.At 28, Dean meets his alpha while shopping for groceries.

I just... Um. Yes. I have a sweet spot for the true mates trope and this is a very sweet example of that :)

Ignite by angelofthemoorv E | 86k | Vampire AU

While investigating a lead regarding a serial killer, Dean Winchester suffers a beating. When he wakes up, he discovers a stranger named Castiel has been caring for him. But Castiel has a secret--he is a vampire. He is not like other vampires, however. His mission is to protect humankind, and he has been pursuing the serial killer, too. Will the friendship between Dean and Castiel endure the trials ahead? Will their mutual attraction develop into something more?

Feels 'Verse by Gemmiel E | 18k | Fluff, Alt!canon

Castiel discovers that being human is very different from being an angel, physically speaking, and Dean helps him explore the differences. AU for season 9 in which Cas goes straight to the bunker and Sam heals spontaneously from the trials.

Wow this verse is so lovely and fluffy that I just want to cuddle it. Basically how Season 9 should have gone.

Thunder & Angels by pm_lo E | 51k

Castiel’s family owns the shoddily-regulated coal mine where John Winchester works, so Dean storms Cas’s mansion, demanding answers from the drugged-out trust-fund kid. In exchange for his help repairing the mine, Cas demands Dean live with him for three months and give Cas a shot at seducing him by allowing him one kiss a day.

AHHHH!!! This was PERFECT. Love the characterizations, plot, fluff and angst amaze. read the thingggg

Cockiness by robomanticv E | 7k | Hot, AU Panty!kink

Dean didn’t usually come to this kind of place, but Sam had given him the puppy dog eyes and argued and pleaded and even bribed him with pie. He was seeing some new girl who apparently very into the alternative burlesque scene and she had invited them to come see a show on her night off. Aka: The one where Dean sees his first burlesque show, learns that male burlesque performers are a thing, and tries a lot of new (sexual) things. Also my Castiel underwear kink makes an appearance because I'm weakkkk

Bunker 41 by CaptainMercy42 T | 25k | Fluff, Scientist AU

Dr. Castiel Novak is giving Lieutenant Dean Winchester a simple tour of BUNKER41 when an explosion traps them both inside. They'll get out eventually. Some days that thought is very comforting, and other days it makes Cas a little sad (DENIAL: a lot sad).

CUDDLING.

Pulled From The Wreckage by DarkmoonSigel M | 30k | Alt!canon, wing!kink

Angel and shameless wingfic. Dean notices that he is changing into something but is it something that he can accept? Mature for a reason for later chapters so bear with me here.

The Auction by TamrynEradani E | 8k

Dean's a firefighter and Cas is a police officer, and they both end up at the bar, miserable after their auction dates. Lucky for them, the night is still young.

I just um... Hnng. Firefighter!Dean and Cop!Cas.

Welcome to the Dork Side by TamrynEradani T | 15k

Dean's handing out pie when he has an odd encounter with Castiel Novak.

Super cute! :)

Both Sides Now by TamrynEradani T | 21k |Alt!canon, genderswap!dean

Dean solves a hunt and realizes he's in love. He does most of this while cursed into a female body which means he's also dealing with being a woman, and it's more complicated than he had realized.

Shut Your Mouth by runoutofwit E | 2k | Hot, Dom!Cas

Dean’s not sure how they ended up this way, but he doesn’t care. He didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect Castiel, Angel of the Lord, to be the equivalent of a hormone-ravaged teenager, and he sure as hell didn’t expect him to be an asshole about it.

Hella dom!cas with bossy!bottom dean mmm.

What I need by xaandria E | 46k | Medical AU

A joking phrase commonly heard between a surgeon and his tech is "Give me what I need, not what I ask for." Dr. Novak and his tech Dean will soon learn the impact this phrase has on life outside the operating room.

Surgical AU! Very terminology heavy, so I didn't understand some parts. But very good regardless.

Starborn by riseofthefallenone G | 12k

Dean’s obsession with the stars starts all thanks to Sam. He just didn't know where that would take him in life. Or who - or what - he would meet.

This is LOVELY.

Love Out of Chaos by mar_map E | 30k

Sam needs homework help, Dean likes to cuddle (although he won't admit it), John gets shot, Gabriel teaches Castiel to loosen up, and Balthazar likes to flirt. That's not what's important though. What is important, is that Castiel and Dean were always meant to be (even if the two of them have trouble seeing it at first), and though Castiel lost his family, another one just might have sneaked up on him while he wasn't looking.

You Deserve This by ticklethetoastl E | 2k | Fluff, PWP Canon!verse

Sex with Cas was never supposed to be an emotional experience, and Dean doesn't deserve to be made love to.

Praise!kink is my ultimate weakness.

S'only you. by louise97 T | 3k

Dean wasn't sure about what exactly had led them there—the cuddle accident, morning wood issues or the growing tension between them for the past few days—but yet there they were, and he had no fucking idea what to do (at first).

*keyboard smash* soOOoOoO CUTE

Freckles by 2spooky4u E | 7k | Fluff

"I had to draw all them perfectly," Cas insists, and Dean suddenly can't get rid of the image of Cas, clutching on to a Crayola washable marker, jamming it into his skin forcefully like a little kid mashes his markers on the paper in a vehement attempt to make the color deeper. ”And now you're insulted 'cause I don't appreciate 'em?" Dean asks, bewildered. "No," Cas lies petulantly. "Huh." The stubborn child version of Cas Dean has painted in his mind is now clutching his paper possessively, shielding it from scrutiny. They drive in silence for a while. "Thank you for making my freckles," Dean grouses finally, knowing that it's the only way Cas will forgive him. ((((OR, IN WHICH CAS LIKES DEAN AND HIS FRECKLES, AND DEAN IS STUBBORNLY HETEROSEXUAL))))

Simple and adorable. Pining!cas and Discovering his bisexuality!Dean. Addresses Dean's self worth issues :D️

Appoggiatura by ceeainthereforthat E | 121k | College au

Castiel leaves the religious commune of Heaven Farms to study classical piano after winning a full scholarship paid for by the Deanna Campbell Memorial Foundation, and answers an ad in the campus newspaper: 1 bedroom to let. Meals provided. 50mb wifi, quiet odd music student preferred.

Super interesting world building. Love the imagery and writing style.

Good Books, Bad Movies by Amelia_Clark E | 17k | Fluff, Hot, Bookstore AU

Castiel Novak is an award-winning, heavily tattooed writer of dark fantasy (think China Mieville). Dean Winchester runs a quirky book/video store called Good Books, Bad Movies. There's a reading, some lit-nerd flirting, and eventually smut amongst the shelves.

First of all, this is adorable. Second of all it's smoking hot.

Alone Together by ScarletPhoenix E | 26k | Dean/Cas/BennyA/b/o AU

Dean Winchester has never expected to be happy. As an omega, his only hope is that he’ll end up with an alpha that’ll think of him as a human being and take him away from his abusive father. Castiel Novak isn’t allowed to be happy. As a beta, he’s forced by his parents to hide who he is under fake bravado and forced hormone therapy. The one thing that keeps him going is his love for his best friend, Dean. Benny Lafitte has given up on happiness. As an alpha, he should be mated with little ones running around under feet, but that isn’t how life played out. Instead he focuses on running his restaurant and ignoring his empty house. When these three meet, will they finally find the happiness they deserve?

Come Clean by snuggycas E | 3k | Hot, A/B/O AU, PWP, Omega!dean, Alpha!cas

When Sam makes Dean help for the Universities annual car wash fundraiser, he meets Castiel Milton, a business intern who is finishing his masters degree. When they go on a date and Dean's heat suppressants fail, they make a discovery that will change their lives forever. This is all porn to be honest.

Hot and Cute <3 Also this hit all my kinks haha.

grip them tight and raise them from pernicion by flux E | 20k | Fluff, Much ado about nothing au, highschool au

Dean and Cas have been at each other's throats for years, but Anna and Sam are determined to change that for the better. With a well-placed love letter and some careful direction, they manage to get the two into a semi-antagonistic, fiercely competitive, and emotionally confusing game of relationship chicken. Now they just need to get to prom.

Fucking adorable and hilarious. I love much ado about nothing so much, and this was a wonderful rendition!

The face of heaven. by orange_crushed T | 9k | Fluff, AU

"This is the best day of my life," Castiel tells him, when he comes back. "You’ve been so kind to me." His cheeks are glowing a little from the cold, or maybe just because he’s an otherworldly being full of light. Dean doesn’t know. "If I burn another million years, I won’t forget it. "Oh," says Dean. "Good." (In which Castiel is a fallen star.)

PERFECT! Oh my heart!

Hold Me Close by twisting_vine_x E | 7k | Star trek AU

Pon farr Destiel AU. In which Castiel is a half-Vulcan scientist, Dean is an engineer, and they’re best friends who are stationed aboard the USS Enterprise for her first five-year voyage. An away mission going wrong. Getting stranded together on some deserted planet. Just another day in the lives of a couple of Starfleet officers, but when the Vulcan side of Cas suddenly makes itself know, he and Dean are put in a position that has the potential to either make or break them.

Ghost Dance by omphalos E | 51k | Angst, Alt!Canon

In post-apocalyptic isolation, Castiel nurses Dean back to something like his former self, but will a time come when Dean's recovered --and rediscovered-- too much?

Very angsty, very sad. This wrecked me with perfection. Be sure to read the tags.

Meringue by SurlyCat E | 23k | Dean/Cas/Jimmy, Hot, College AU

Dean and Cas have been together for about six months, when Cas starts to get antsy about their sex life. The sex has been good and all, but what Dean doesn't know is that his shy, sweet little boyfriend has been holding back. One confusing spur of the moment date with his boyfriend's twin later, and Dean finds out that Cas may not be as innocent as he thought.

*fans self* well basically this is really hot and you should read it. if you're into d/c/j of course.

A Room Of One's Own by NorthernSparrow E | 94k | Hot, alt!canon

All Dean wants is a little privacy. Cas doesn't understand.

Omfg. This was hilarious, wonderful, and hot. A+. Basically crack, but with emotional moments and hot porn. so, yep.

#destiel #deancas #spn #spn fic rec #destiel fic rec #*#list

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msjr0119 · 4 years

Text

Cordonian Wags

Part 21

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Warnings: Abuse, Swearing.

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @desiree-0816

******

Xavier walked into the lounge area, not understanding the change of heart from Riley.

“I just need to nip next door. Make yourself at home.” Riley explained as she turned the kettle on.

“Why?” Wondering if she was using this as an excuse and was actually going to run away from him after he had gone through faking his death. Riley walked towards the door, he noticed her phone and purse was near him- if she was going to run she would have taken them he believed.

“Mrs Jones, my neighbour- she invited me over for something to eat. I’ll just explain that I have a visitor and will have to postpone it.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“NO! I mean, she’s not very good with strangers. She has dementia, she likes familiarity. I’ll be thirty seconds tops.” Riley ran out of the front door, hoping he wouldn’t follow her. Leaving her phone, he decided to read through her messages- knowing it was wrong and that he was hurting himself doing this, he wanted to know how Drake spoke to her. What made her attracted him. Realising that Drake spoke to her with respect, showed her love, admired her- made him fully regret how he treat her. I’m sorry Drake, but I need my wife back, he thought as he text Drake then blocked the number before deleting the evidence.

*****

Knocking on the door, Riley had hoped that Mrs Jones wasn’t having her usual siesta. The knocking became more frantic, I’ve been more than thirty seconds- he’s going to come for me.

“Riley? Are you okay?”

“Mrs Jones. I’m in danger. My ex husband has shown up. I’m keeping him in my house- I don’t want to let him out of my sight. If he leaves, it won’t be long until he comes back to hurt me or others. I need you to contact Lindsey now, tell her to get on a flight as soon as possible. Keep an eye out on the house. I will keep all lights on, I will text you the word “okay” every half hour. Do not reply. If you see anything suspicious or I don’t text you... call the police as soon as possible. I need him in prison, if he has any inkling that I am against him or that the police are on their way he will go on the run and I won’t be able to live my life without always looking behind my shoulder. Don’t worry about me. Just please contact my sister.”

Before Mrs Jones could reply, Riley ran back to the house. Scrutinising through her phone book, she found Lindsey’s number and rung her immediately.

******

Drake broke down crying in front of everyone, they all wondered what had happened. He was upbeat about his future with Riley, and was now an emotional wreck. Helping himself to a bottle of whiskey from Liam’s liquor cabinet, he downed it in one. Bastien pulled him to one side- Drake fell into his embrace unable to control his emotions.

“Drake? What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

“It’s.... Riley.... she doesn’t.... want to be... with me anymore. She’s not coming... back... she’s leaving New York.... I’ve lost her.... we’ve lost her....” Passing bastien his phone, reading the text it seemed suspicious. He knew his niece, she would never say something so serious over a text or phone call.

“Drake, I’m going to get the next flight to New York. She loves you, her head is probably all over the place.”

“Bastien it’s fine. You’re needed here. I don’t deserve to be happy, I just want her to be happy. If that isn’t with me, then so be it. I’m going to go up to the spare room, I need a minute to myself.” Walking in a trance to the room, he couldn’t help but look at the screensaver on his phone. Wondering what he had done so wrong for her to abruptly end their relationship. Taking his grandmothers ring out of the box, he held it - maybe I was destined to be with someone like Kiara, to be a doormat, in a loveless marriage? I’m sorry grandma, but looks like your ring will be covered in dust for the foreseeable future.

Lindsey excused herself from everyone after feeling her phone vibrate- Mrs Jones? What the hell has gone off?

“Hello, Mrs Jones what’s the matter?”

“Lindsey... it’s Riley... she’s in danger. She needs you here. She said to not mention it anyone else, but you need to get here as soon as possible. Her ex husband is here.”

“Mrs Jones, I don’t mean to be disrespectful but have you taken your tablets today? Her husband died.”

“No he’s here. She was frantic. She insisted on keeping him locked in the house until you arrived- I wanted to call the police but she said she needed to keep him on her side and that she wanted to get him behind bars. Lindsey just get here as soon as possible.”

“Shit! Sorry. I’m on my way. I swear to god if he kills her.... I’m bringing someone with me. Thank you and see you soon.” Hanging up, she panicked- how the fuck can he be announced dead when he’s alive?

“Liv. Can you come to New York with me now. Don’t tell the men. I don’t want to worry Drake...” Explaining to Olivia what was said on the phone, Olivia was furious with Riley, even more so with Xavier.

“Liam, we are going to New York to bring Riley back. Don’t tell Drake. I love you.”

“Why are you going now?” Olivia was thankful that the men were intoxicated, if not he would be persistent asking questions as to why the two of them were doing a moonlight flit.

“No time to explain. I’ll contact you when we arrive.”

****

Xavier jumped as Riley walked back through the door, she was longer than she said she was going to be- but he was going to ignore it, not wanting to push her away.

“Sorry I took longer, she’s really forgetful at the moment.” Lying she hoped he would accept it.

“Don’t worry. I understand. I made you a coffee.”

“Thank you. So. How are you here if you are dead?”

“Constantine told me you was moving back here, only returning for match days.....”

Constantine drove to Xavier’s house, not knowing how he would react to his plan. After Xavier had left him before, he insisted that he would sort his flights out.

“Are you packed?”

“Yes. Have you sorted my flight out?” Constantine handed him the boarding passes as well as new passport.

“John Taylor?”

“I have a feeling that the rest of the club will follow you there. I stupidly suggested that you was visiting your family- but Riley will know the truth. We need to fake your death.”

“If I’m dead, I’ve lost my job. I’ve lost Riley for good.”

“If you’re dead, no one will suspect that Riley is with you. You need to win her heart again. I have paid someone to drive your car, and someone to chase that car. They are going to steal Leo’s Ferrari. What the person who is driving your car doesn’t realise is that they will die tonight. So you better make this worth my while. I will confirm that it is your body. Here’s a new phone. I love you son.”

“And here I am. I’ve given everything up for you. I love you. Tell me how I can convince you to give us another shot.”

“Xavier, I will never be able to forgive you. Maybe in time, we can be friends?”

“I slept with Kiara before she left. I wanted to get back at you and Drake. I paid her to cause trouble between the two of you. I regret all that, but I was desperate to get you back.” Deciding to be honest, he believed it would gain a bit of trust.

“You slept with Kiara? You two are made for each other.” She wasn’t jealous one bit, in a way she had hoped that the two psychos would have continued their one night stand.

“She isn’t you. I didn’t feel anything.”

“Just like all the others then?” Holding her hands, he needed to prove that he was the man she once fell in love with.

“Yes just like the others, that’s in the past. We can start a fresh.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, with Drakes baby. I found out today. He is my future.” Lying she hoped he would forget about reigniting their relationship.

“That’s great news Ri. You’ll make a fantastic Mom.” That was unexpected.

“I can be it’s father, a second chance for us both. Drake doesn’t have to know. We can move away.”

“Are you insane? I don’t want anything to do with you!”

“You are mine. We will be family again.”

“No!” Grabbing her wrists tightly, she knew he wouldn’t be sincere for long.

“You’re hurting me!” Letting go immediately, he placed a kiss on each wrist. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“It’s fine. But please don’t hurt my baby.”

Checking her phone discreetly, she text Mrs Jones and deleted the text.

“What you doing?”

“Erm, just checking the time.”

“There’s a clock on the wall.”

“Today’s technology eh?”

“How about I take you out?” Public place, waste as much time as possible.

“Okay, I’ll get showered and ready.”

“No need, you are fine as you are.”

*****

Walking out of the house, Mrs Jones was watching out of the window- Riley waved and nodded. Lindsey had contacted her informing her that she would be in New York soon- the two women had managed to catch a flight shortly after leaving Olivia’s house. Arriving at the restaurant, they ordered food. Xavier became drunk quickly.

“So what does Walker have that I don’t?”

“A good heart. He loves me. I love him.”

“I can try and be like that. Teach me to be like him.”

“You can’t teach someone to be like someone else. I gave you so many chances, and I gave up.”

“Damn it Riley! We are both footballers, we both have brown hair, brown eyes. I can be him. I can be a father to your baby.”

“We will talk about this when you drop me off home.”

“Drop you off home? I thought I could stay.”

“Well I suppose you could, but you have to calm this anger down.” Xavier promised, Riley not so convinced. Counting down the minutes- she went to the bathroom to research incoming flights. Due in six hours if she is on that flight, can I last that long with him?

Arriving back at Riley’s, he kissed her- if she was going to react he decided to blame it on the booze. Five and half hours. “Xavier, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I just want you to be mine again.”

“How about you go up to the bedroom? Wait for me. I’ll go in the shower.” Xavier smirked, he had hope that he was going to make love to his ex wife again. Nodding his head, he immediately stripped off his clothes. Locking the door behind her, the more time she could waste in the bathroom the quicker Lindsey would be there. Texting Mrs Jones again, she left her phone unoccupied. Xavier wondered what was taking her so long, thinking she was pampering herself for just him- she asked me to wait in the bathroom, she wouldn’t say that if she didn’t want me back. Going downstairs for a drink of water, he noticed her phone on the table. Intrigued to see if anyone had contacted her, he unlocked the phone. Incoming flights to New York. That bitch!

Storming upstairs, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Riley baby. How long are you going to be?”

“Not long. I just... I just need to make sure that I’m ready for you.” Cringing as she said this, she had already planned to force herself to sleep once she exited the shower.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.” I’m claiming you as mine. Whoever you are expecting to turn up- won’t be here for long.

Coming out of the bathroom, she noticed that he was naked- faking a smile, she was hoping that he would be happy with just a goodnight hug. Four and a half hours. Sliding into bed, she said goodnight as she turned to the opposite direction. Laying on his side, he placed his arm around her- deep down she wanted to remove it immediately. Instead she just kept thinking about Drake, her Drake- wishing he was with her instead. Xavier slowly thrust against her- she could feel his erect penis, grimacing she wished the next few hours would fly by. “Xavier, I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow?” Knowing that with the support of her sister, he wouldn’t be here tomorrow. “I want you now. I’m going to make you mine again.”

“No Xavier. Please.” Pulling her hair forcefully back, he had a tight grip.

“No one says no to me Riley, especially after they’ve lied. Care to tell me who is coming from Cordonia?”

“N-no one. I haven’t spoken to anyone since you arrived. Please I don’t want sex with you.”

“Tough. You will be my wife again. That baby will be ours.”

“No! I divorced you for a reason. Leave me alone or I will call the police!”

“What are they going to do with a dead man? You’re a slut Riley, I gave you the opportunity to have a family with me. Do as I tell you or the old Xavier will return.”

*****

Lindsey and Olivia arrived in New York, hailing a cab- Lindsey was too frantic to drive. Arriving at the house, Lindsey knocked on Mrs Jones’s door- as she did, she received a text. Not okay, call the police!

Lindsey grabbed Olivia, and knocked the door down- not giving a shit at how much it would cost to replace.

“Riley! Ri! Where are you?” Running around the house, she was nowhere to be seen. Becoming more panic stricken, Olivia attempted to calm her down.

“Help!” Following the voice, they ran down the cellar.

“Xavier? Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.” The two women looked at Riley, both furious. Seeing her blindfolded and tied up beaten black and blue- they were furious that she didn’t immediately call the police. On a closer inspection, Olivia noticed that Riley was surrounded by a puddle of blood.

“What the fuck has he done to you?”

“Liv?”

“Riley... I’m sorry we took so long, we came as soon as we could. Why the fuck wouldn’t you get help?” Kneeling down next to her sister, Lindsey felt guilty. If she didn’t suggest selling their childhood home, Riley wouldn’t have come to New York, and Xavier would still be ‘alive’ and still be the manager of the club. Removing the blindfold and untying her, they witnessed fear in her eyes.

“I.. I don’t know... he’s on the run. I stupidly thought ... if I kept him here... when you arrived... that... we could call the cops then. I kept texting Mrs Jones..... then I checked for flights... he must have looked at my phone....”

“Where is the bastard?” Olivia saw Riley and Lindsey’s eyes widen.

“Hello, Mrs Rhys. I’m not a bastard, I’m your brother in law.”

“No! My ‘brother in law’ died. Technically you was half brother in law. Arsehole. What you going to do? Hurt me too?” Xavier laughed. “No, Riley’s learnt her lesson now. She understands that we are meant to be together. Isn’t that right darling? We are going to be a family, she’s pregnant.” Olivia turned around to face the sisters, her mind working overtime about how to get them all out safe.

“I think we should go Lindsey.”

“Are you fucking crazy? I’m not leaving my sister!” Pulling the dagger out of her bra, she mouthed trust me to them. “Maybe I am crazy. But I think Xavier, should pick up his girl and see that she is okay? Come with me Lindsey. Well go on then Xavier.” Xavier nodded, Lindsey provided him with dagger eyes as he knelt down, kissing Riley on the forehead. Throwing her arms around him, Riley forced a kiss on his lips. Keeping the kiss linger, she soon felt him fall into her- with the lack of energy she had, she pushed him off her. Unable to contain the shaking, Lindsey ran over to her, holding her tightly- comforting her.

“I always told Liam, it is a good idea to carry daggers around with me. That bastard won’t hurt you anymore.” The three women all held each other, Lindsey thanked Olivia - for not only saving her sister but potentially them all. “Riley are you really pregnant? Because all the blood you are surrounded in, is concerning me. You do know that bastard text Drake, dumping him?”

“No. I just said that - hoping he wouldn’t hurt me. How wrong was I? Thank you Liv. For everything. It doesn’t surprise me. Drake didn’t believe it did he? I can’t lose him.” Before she could respond, they heard heavy footsteps coming down the cellar stairs.

“POLICE! PUT ALL WEAPONS DOWN!”

“About fucking time!” Olivia explained to the police that she stole ‘his’ dagger off him as he was attacking Riley. The police seemed to believe the story.

“We need medical assistance as soon as possible. Woman in her twenties, badly beaten- surrounded by blood from possible rape.”

*****

The day after Olivia killed Xavier, Riley was still in hospital- flashbacks of the night roamed in her mind. Olivia sat by her bedside with her, whilst Lindsey cleaned the house. There was a knock at the door, Olivia smiled- letting go of Riley’s hand, she stood up exiting the room, patting the visitor on the shoulder.

“I’m so angry with you right now. Why would you put yourself in danger?” Holding her hand to his lips, he regretted not forcing himself to follow his gut instincts.

“I love you so much, I could have lost you. I’m so sorry. Please come back to Cordonia, I’ll buy us a new house. We can buy one here, and in Cordonia. You’re safe now. I’m not letting you out of my sight, unless you’re with Olivia that is. You are my future Riley.” Fluttering her eyes open, she smelt his scent- believing she was hallucinating.

“D-Drake?”

“Ri, are you okay?”

“Don’t. Please. I brought this on myself.”

“Maybe a little. But I still care about you. I’d be heartbroken if I lost you.”

“Marshmallow. I don’t deserve you. Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m never leaving you. I love you too much to leave you. We planned a future together remember.” Kissing her on the lips, he had missed her. “I want you to move in with me Ri. So I can look after you and protect you. What do you say?”

“Erm. About that future we planned. There’s something I need to tell you...”

#trr #trr fan fic #trr choices #drake x riley #drake x mc #olivia nevrakis #liam rhys #leo rhys #trr bastien #bertrand beaumont #trr au cordonian wags #cordonian wags lindsey

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northstarfan · 5 years

Text

Mag7 AU: Dead Man Banging

So, @lazaefair and I did a thing.

Spinning out of this post, the fandom now has a Mag7/24 Hours To Live not-fic. (24 Hours to Live is currently on Netflix. It is... a lot of not great, but Ethan Hawke gets to be a shirtless, beaten-down human disaster with soulful eyes. That's plot bunny Viagra right there.)

Also, the name of this particular AU is by @hellolittleogre, and it's just too perfect. Thank you, hon! <3

Third twist: Travis’s hallucinations of his wife and kid start getting intercut with hallucinations of Billy.

Fourth twist: The Company decides to test just how long Doc Helen's refined procedure works. They turn off the kill switch and just put Billy and Travis in a room together to see how long it takes before Travis just up and dies.

(None of them - Billy and Travis included - have put two and two together that love-related hormones have been fucking with the revivication cycle; Billy's just allowed on because the presence of his fuck buddy/partner keeps Travis more tractable.)

Travis is ready to chew rocks and spit sand because he assumes Billy's been strong-armed into this. Billy shrugs and says he volunteered.

Yes, Billy started fucking Travis after he found out Travis is technically dead. It’s against his better judgment; the association with necrophilia is unavoidable, and people in their line of work who have or develop anything that messes with their impulse control - like strong sexual fetishes - end up dead very fast. So he successfully ignores his attraction for a couple missions.

And then after yet another narrow escape Goodnight spouts off something about how "You make me feel alive again" only phrased much more stupidly poetically while they're squashed together into a very small hiding place and he— Billy can feel the warmth of Goodnight's body seeping into his side, can hear and feel his chest moving as he breathes, can smell the tang of his sweat and blood, knows if he touched Goodnight's skin his hand would come away slick with that sweat. Absolutely nothing about him suggests that he'll be a corpse in half a day, everything about him says that he's alive. And his whisky-hoarse voice brushes so softly at Billy's ear...

Travis has his own hesitancies about getting emotionally involved too - his wife and kid were killed by his old outfit, and his best friend was in on it. They made it look like a revenge killing, but it was really all about trying to keep Travis in the game when he was thinking about getting out of it for his family. (Had the opposite effect, hence the human disaster period.)

But in the end... fuck, what does he have to lose? (Or so he tells himself. He knows the answer.)

Extra points if Billy is Travis’s first time with a guy.

But it's Billy. Billy is his soulmate across the fandom multiverse, so their first time is surprisingly easy, for all that it's in some dank bolthole of a safe house and neither of them can ever forget the clock that's always ticking down. But Billy's plastered all along his front, intense, ferocious, dragging Goodnight with him into passionate pleasure with the same uncompromising focus he brings to his work, and hey wow, dead or not, apparently Goodnight is really into that.

All tangled up in each other on a narrow mattress, nerves humming with the kind of contentment touch-starved Billy hasn't felt in a long time, and Travis hadn't figured he'd ever feel again. The bruises Billy's left on his biceps are almost as satisfying as his first tattoos. Even if no one ever gives the order to wake him up again, at least he had a choice in that much.

After that day, and after a few more missions where he revives to Billy's voice and Billy's face, his hallucinations start coming on later and later in the cycle. He's winding down much later and more slowly. Until there's one mission where - of course you can't say anything with absolute, 100% scientific certainty - but that's the mission where it looks an awful lot like the only reason Travis dies at the end is because of the kill switch, not because of the drugs metabolizing.

(I am 100% here for "Death itself is held at bay by true love" in this ridic wannabe-John Wick setting. XD)

But regardless, that curiosity as to why the treatments are lasting longer is how he and Billy end up in a glass-fronted room, watching garbage TV on the overhead, shooting the shit, and playing cards to pass the time. Until the hallucinations start. The Boss wants to pull Billy out then; even unarmed, Travis is dangerous. Doc Helen wants to wait and see how it plays out. First round of brainfuckery ends with Travis' face hidden against Billy's shoulder, shuddering as he uses the familiarity of his partner's scent to try and ground himself in the here and now.

(The penny doesn’t drop for anyone even then; no one in the business is at all body-shy - can’t afford to have hang-ups in life-and-death situations - especially if they work with a partner.)

Second round is quieter - Travis goes into a fugue and stares into space for a while, before he abruptly jolts out of it. Doesn't say a damn thing, just joins Billy on the cot and goes back to watching Blue Planet. He's a little wobbly, even seated. Billy's shoulder picks up the slack again.

Billy is controlling himself to a degree even he rarely has to reach for; he desperately wants to curl around Goody and kiss him and touch him the way lovers touch each other, make Goody feel at least a little more protected. But he can’t do that, obviously. And then at the same time he still has to stay relaxed and comforting for Goody's sake, minimize the stress Goody might sense in him. Without going outside the bounds of platonic affection. While watching Goody die in front of him. More slowly than usual, sure, but he recognizes the same progression.

He's seen his partner dead. He's never had to stand by and watch him take that last breath. Sometimes the hand-off to the doc - Helen - has been with minutes to spare, with Goodnight barely on his feet. Not this time. He's here for the duration. He doesn't know how many times Goodnight has been through this. He can be there for him this once. He'll hold it together, for Goody's sake.

Goody shudders against him, a quiet spasm. Billy squeezes his shoulder, resists the urge to stroke his face.

"It's all right. Don't think about it."

“Doubt it’s a walk in the park for you, either,” Goody mumbles quietly into Billy’s shoulder. “Just feels like passin’ out on my end, these days. But you’re gonna feel my heart stop.”

Billy contemplates him for a long moment, thinking all the things he can’t say, not in front of the cameras and mics, not in front of the blank stretch of two-way glass.

He finally settles on a deliberate, exaggeratedly dismissive, “Eh. I’ll live.”

Goody shakes against him again, but from laughter this time. “Jesus H. Christ, Rocks, that’s cold, even for you. Didn’t know you had it in you,” and Billy snickers with him. Neither of them mention the faint whistle in Goody’s voice or the fainter rattle in his lungs.

"Son of a bitch," Goodnight mutters, lingering laughter twisting the curse into affection. "No wonder the fish don't like you."

Billy blinks. This is new. "What?"

"Something my father-in-law told me once. Explaining why I was so shit at fishing. Animals are drawn to the light of men's souls or some shit. And I don't have a soul, so I never could catch a fucking fish."

"Gee, thanks." Goodnight's fully resting against him now; Billy shrugs hard enough to jostle him in retaliation. "Asshole."

"Two of a kind..." He sits up with a jolt. His tired eyes are wide and confused as he glances around the room. "Shit. Shit. Rocks, what are you doing here?" He tries to stand and somehow manages it.

"Hey. Goodnight." Billy can see his partner's pulse hammering stubbornly away in his throat. "Hey. Sit back down. I'm supposed to stay with you, remember?"

"They're going to be home soon... you can't be here. Shit."

Billy almost asks, but the answer comes to him. The wife and kid. Goody never even says their names, but he's told Billy what happened to them. He's hallucinating a memory. It's on the tip of his tongue to tell Goodnight that they're dead. But there's no point. He'll remember soon enough.

"You're right. I'm not here," he murmurs. "I'm your fucked up mind playing tricks on you. So just relax and wait until your family gets in, all right?"

He’s expecting a repeat of the first round of hallucinations, braces himself against it. Instead, he gets an uncertain look and a long exhale, and then the line of Goody’s shoulders smooths out and he smiles all wry and lopsided at Billy. Billy ignores his heart flopping over in his chest and looks back up at him, steady and waiting.

“Well,” Goody says, almost to himself, “I’ve had uglier hallucinations show up on my couch, I guess. And you...” he reaches out suddenly, rests the tips of his fingers on the side of Billy’s neck with a tiny caress that sends arousal quicksilvering through Billy’s veins, bright and shocking. Like he’s a fucking teenager again. He manages to keep his eyes open, but it’s a close call. “You feel near enough to real it almost don’t make a difference. Wish we could...”

His eyes are fucking gorgeous even under the shitty fluorescent lighting. Blue and vital. Billy holds himself ruthlessly still. “Could what?”

(Have we stumbled on this fandom’s very first fuck or die scenario?)

(I think we may have created a whole new one - fuck and die. On repeat. XD)

"I wish we could have known each other out in the world, man," Goodnight sighs. "Before everything went to shit. When I could still stand the sound of my own fucking name. You ever seen the Keys?"

His hand is still on Billy's neck; he can feel his own pulse against Goody's fingers, the subtle electricity running between the two of them.

"I never got that far south," he manages. He wants to take Goody out of this fucking room and let him have some kind of dignity. He wants to curl up around him and keep him safe while the clock ticks down. He doesn't want to think of how he's thrown his heart for dogs to tear, falling for this ghost of a man. They just... need to get through this.

"You should go. Fishing's shit, but... sunlight and sand and wide, blue ocean. You'd like it." He quiets for a time. "Kate and Adam aren't coming. I know that."

"All right, Goody." He squeezes Goodnight's wrist. The kill switch embedded in Goody's flesh is cold, even under a layer of skin. He commits the names of the dead to memory. "Sorry. Thought it'd be good for you to forget a while."

"I don't. Not really." Another span of quiet, longer this time. "How long's it been?"

"I don't know. Longer than a day, I guess. You're doing all right. I haven't had to carry your ass anywhere, at least." Billy grins when Goodnight snorts a laugh. "Tell The Boss to send you along with a suitcase next time, just in case." Because he's not leaving Goody behind again now that he knows, not ever.

#mag7 #billy rocks #goodnight robicheaux #goodnight x billy #dead man banging au

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macybeckham7 · 5 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet- Ruben Loftus Cheek

A- Attractive {what do they find attractive about the other?}

What doesn't he find attractive about you? He loves you natural with no make up on in some comfy clothes and your hair in plaits. But most importantly he loves how kind hearted you are, and how you easily put others before yourself

B- Baby{do they want a family? why/why not?}

He never thought about starting a family until he met you, he can see you mothering his children and even though you are still young he cannot wait till that day comes.

C- Cuddle {how do they cuddle?}

Ruben is always cuddly for his number one girl. He loves burying his face into your neck as your hand rubs his neck, as he breathes in your scent.

D- Dates {what are dates with them like?}

You both have a weekday which is your date night, you both leave your phones at home wanting to spend quality time with each other. It doesn't really matter if you dress up to the nines or it you just back a fort in the living room and watch back to back Disney movies.

E- Everything {you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world...)}

"You are my whole world" he always whispers this to you as he kisses your forehead, he doesn't see his life without you in it. You are his biggest fan and biggest inspiration, he always wants to make you proud.

F- Feelings {When did they know they were in love?}

For the both of you it was pretty quickly, you both loved being around eachother & loved how the other made them feel.

G- Gentle {are they gentle? If so, how?}

You call him your 'big gentle giant' he always checks that he isn't hurting you, always aware of his size compared to your petite body.

H- Hand {Hand/Hold how do they like to hold hands?}

He love holding your hands, whether it's when you are cuddling on the sofa watching TV, while you are in the bedroom department or if you are walking around London. He always traces his thumb along your palm making you laugh.

I- Impression { first impression/s}

When you first met he thought you were the most beautiful women he had laid his eyes on. As soon as you got talking he loved how bold you were and how you had good banter making him laughing.

J- Joker{ are they into pulling pranks?}

You two are always playing pranks on eachother or on one of your family members. A lot of them end up on socials which your fans love watching just enjoying your carefree relationship

K- Kisses{how do they kiss?}

He has always got his lips on you, always stealing kisses or pecking your cheek, no matter where you are or who is around he loves showing you affection.

L- Love { who says I love you first?}

You both say it around the same time, it was after having sex for the second time and you both just whisper 'I love you' which you both just stupidly smirk at eachother which ends to a round two.

M- Memories {their favourite moment together?)

His favourite memory is while you were both on your first holiday together, you went on a safari and he loved just watching your face light up as you got to feed milk to elephants & lion cubs. Also how you beamed as you watched the monkeys swing in the trees. He loved how childlike you both were that day, he loved just watching you at ease and happy.

N- Nickel {do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?}

You both go all out on each others birthdays, christmas & Valentine's Day, but neither of you are materialistic to just spend ridiculous £'s on each other to show each other how much you love them. When he comes home after a week away with Chelsea or England he always brings you some flowers, while you always make sure the cupboards are stocked for his cheat day needs.

O- Orange {what colour reminds them of their other half?}

Yellow. It's his favourite colour on you, it first started seeing you in one of his shirts, then you buy yourself a lingerie set in yellow which he just stares at you, realising how perfect your body looks in that colour.

P- Pet Names {what pet names do they use?}

Baby, Sweetheart are the most used nicknames but he always just shortens your name in normal conversation.

Q- Quaint {what is their favourite non-modern thing?}

Slow Dancing. He loves to put on some John Legend and sweep you in his arms and swirls you around the room as he sings to you.

R - Rainy Day {what do they like to do on a rainy day?}

Living in the UK, that is most days. You guys usually get in the kitchen and make some treats and then cuddle on the sofa watching a series on Netflix.

S- Sad {how do they cheer themselves/each other up}

You both can read eachother easily, so when he comes home in a mood you instantly take him upstairs and set the bath, you put in some Lush products and make the best smelling biggest bubble bath. You both get in and pamper him with face masks.

T- Talking{Talking what do they love to talk about?}

You both can get rather deep, you love conspiracy theories, so you end up sitting on the sofa at stupid o clock just searching things and discussing your theories.

U- Unencumbered {What helps them relax?}

No matter what's on his mind which is keeping him up late, you just trail your nails down the back of his neck and his spine, which puts him to sleep within seconds.

V- Vaunt {what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?}

Whenever he can he loves being shirtless showing off his good physique. He spends hours in the gym so why wouldn't he? They are proud of how far he has got in his career, now being a starter in Chelsea, as well as being super proud of you, and what a strong head you've got on your shoulder (never backing down in what you believe in)

W - Wedding {when, how, where do they propose?}

The two of you have been dating for two years when he is thinking about it and bringing it up to both of your dads. Once he gets the approval he takes you to Paris and proposing infront of the Eiffel Tower.

X- Xylophone {What's their song?}

Anything by The Weeknd or Drake, no matter what your are doing you are always listening to one of their songs. You guys are always dancing stupidly and singing out of tune.

Y- You {the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)}

"You are the Bonnie to my Clyde" basically saying it's us against the world, he doesn't care about anyone else apart from you, as long as you are happy and trust him then that's all what matters.

Z- Zebra {if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?}

You have always spoke about getting a pet dog together to add to the family, you both deciding on an English Bulldog, you both cannot decide what to call him by end with Apollo. And you both basically treating him like your child.

#ruben loftus cheek imagines #ruben loftus cheek blurb #ruben loftus cheek #fluff alphabet

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jessahmewren · 5 years

Text

“i didn’t know it could be like this”/ Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Chapter 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Roger and John don't really understand the Dom/sub scene, until they meet two Doms who actually care, or that fic where Rog and John are in a bad situation until Brian and Freddie show them what good sex is all about.

Rated E: for Exceedingly smutty from the first sentence

Chapter 1 of ?

Pairings: Freddie Mercury/John Deacon, Brian May/Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor/John Deacon, eventual puppy pile (It’s Poly y’all)

Words: 3081

Also on AO3

*space for youngsters to scroll past, and please do*

-0-0-0-

Roger pulled off the man’s cock with a sputtering gasp, working to keep his head up. His vision swam, blurry with unshed tears.

“Chin up, cutie,” the gruff voice above him commanded, and he obeyed, tears dripping from his lashes as his head went back in time to catch the warm load that painted his face white.

Roger sank bank on his heels, his wrists bound behind his back. The man’s hands on him were rough, fingers twisting in his blond hair as he forced his face up.

“Such a slut for my cock, huh?” The hand in Roger’s hair tightened until he squeaked out a weak ‘yessir.’

The man leered, a low chuckle bubbling from his chest, and unbound Roger’s hands. Without a word he left him kneeling where he was, come and tears dripping from his chin and onto the lime green carpet.

---

John’s arms shook, his head tucked between his shoulders as the two men took turns pounding into him. Their thrusts were shallow and sloppy, and to John, at least, it was clear they had never done this before.

Of course, they wouldn’t touch his cock.

He had chewed his lip raw from the discomfort of them rutting into him, their sweaty bodies draped over his, heavy and suffocating. John bit back whimpers and silently prayed to anyone listening that they would finish soon.

“Let’s flip him over,” one of them said, out of breath. “I wanna see his face.”

Dutifully, John rolled onto his back, wincing as they roughly entered him again. The larger man slapped John suddenly on the thigh, making him jump. “Say something bitch,” he taunted, “aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

John swallowed nervously. “Yes sir, very much,” he managed. “Keep fucking me sir. I love it.”

After all a client was a client, and you had to keep them happy.

“You damn right you love it, you whore.”

John’s eyes welled, but he blinked the tears away. One day, he would stop being so sensitive. He clenched the bedsheets, trying to relax as the man jerked his hips, gasping and rutting his way through his orgasm.

---

Brian set his guitar down and sighed. “That’s the third bassist this week Freddie. And we can’t keep relying on the drummer down at the pub to practice with us.”

Freddie put the mic stand back into its base. “Darling, relax. Everything’s going to fall into place! We’ve got fliers up all over campus.” The singer winked at Brian. “What we need is a night out.”

Brian shook his head, his curls bouncing. “Oh no. We don’t have the money for that Fred. And I need to study, anyway.”

Freddie pouted. “You’re always studying! A little hedonism is good for the mind.” He grabbed Brian’s arm. “Come on love. Off we go. Into the night to see what it holds for us.”

Brian reluctantly followed Freddie to their beat-up van, secretly hating how the charismatic singer could talk him into anything.

---

John and Roger met downstairs for their weekly meeting with the club manager, Ray Foster. He was an outright creep, but he did keep everything running well and was quick to supply the club goers (employees and patrons) with whatever they needed. As long as you didn’t find yourself alone with him for too long, he was tolerable.

“It’s Saturday night, gents. Big fucking night around here, as usual. Look your best, be your best. Make the customer happy. Any problems, report them straight to me. Anyone have any questions?”

They both shook their heads, quietly holding hands on the couch. John had met Roger at Club Orchid, and he had taken John under his wing. Both of them were painfully new to the Dom/sub scene, but had caught on pretty quick. It was pretty much sink or swim, and both of them desperately needed the money.

John and Roger broke apart before heading to the lounge, each of them giving the other an appraising look. Roger was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a sheer shirt. His blond hair was tousled and lustrous, and the way it caught the light almost gave him a halo. John's short shorts accentuated his bum, and the billowy white shirt he wore was half open. They smiled at each other.

This was John’s favorite part of the evening…just hanging out with Roger, drinking and waiting on clients. Drugs were available to workers as well, but John never took them. He did drink though. It helped take the edge off. And he rarely held back.

---

“So where are you taking me,” Brian finally asked Freddie, noticing they were headed downtown.

Freddie smiled. “Well, I figured it was about time we got back on the scene.”

Brian nearly choked. “You mean, THE scene? NO, Freddie.”

“Darling, you can’t let one bad experience put you off! You are one of the most splendid Doms I’ve ever seen.”

Brian was shaking his head. “This isn’t a good idea, Fred.”

Freddie was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming. “It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time. We’re in for the night of our lives.”

They pulled up to Club Orchid, and Brian's frown only deepened.

“Don’t give me that look, Bri,” Freddie began. It’s technically not prostitution. There’s a cover charge, and then you get inside and do whatever you want. If you leave a tip, well you leave a tip.”

“Freddie—“ Brian began, rubbing his hand over his face.

“It’s done, my darling. We’re already here. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Walking into the club was a little disorienting at first. It was almost like a parlor, set up with couches and chairs and a little receiving desk. Deeper inside the club, though, it was dark, with purple and blue lights in the corners that emitted a soft glow. There was music playing, but surprisingly to Brian, it wasn’t too loud.

And there were men everywhere. Tall men, short men--of all shapes, sizes, and colors--leaning over small tables, drinking, laughing, and chatting. Freddie smiled, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “What a garden of forbidden fruit,” he muttered to himself.

He was the first one to step out, easily charming himself around the room. Everyone he spoke with, of course, was happy to see him and went out of his way to be accommodating and polite.

Brian was somehow stuck to the wall.

It was a bit overwhelming, suddenly, to be back on the scene so quickly. To be gone for so many months, and then to be thrust back in, with all of these partners to choose from. Brian thought briefly of simply walking out.

Then men started walking up to him, and strangely he felt a bit better…more comfortable. Until a blond came up to him in a sheer shirt and large blue eyes and he lost the ability to breathe.

“Hi there.” The blond flashed a shy smile. His lips were full, and he had a small collar seated around his neck.

“Hi,” Brian managed.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” the blond flirted. “And I would’ve remembered you.”

Brian swallowed thickly, already growing hard in his pants. “Never been here before.”

Then he laughed. The blond laughed, a throaty sort of laugh, but somehow still high and lilting, before placing his arm on his. “Well, do you want to get to know each other better?”

Brian nodded dumbly before letting the blond lead him upstairs. “I didn’t catch your name,” he asked stupidly as the door opened in front him.

“It’s Roger,” the blond purred as he reached for Brian’s fly. “And that’s all you need to know.”

---

John stirred his drink, staring down into the fruity concoction a little woefully. So, he wouldn’t get a client tonight. It shouldn’t cut into his and Roger’s rent money too much, not if they cut back on food. He couldn’t resist a sigh.

“Well hello darling! I haven’t spoken to you yet.”

John looked up at the sugary sweet voice to find the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. Sparkling brown eyes, tan skin, long dark hair sweeping his shoulders. John usually wasn’t attracted to people who came in the club, but…

“What has you looking so glum, sweetheart?”

John forced a smile onto his face. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m John, by the way.”

Freddie smiled, then took the hand and kissed it. “John. It’s lovely to meet you. But it didn’t look like nothing when I sat down,” Freddie prodded.

John quirked his mouth. “You wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

---

Roger settled on his knees, the rug burn comforting and familiar. “There’s toys in the dresser,” he said as he looked up at the curly-haired man. “I’m yours for the hour.”

His blue eyes lowered to Brian’s cock, pulling it out of his pants before the man could say anything.

“Whoah, we need to have a talk first,” Brian said, panting.

“Condoms, and lube,” the blond said, shaking his head. “Bedside table.”

“No,” Brian said as he pulled the blond off of his knees. “About limits. And about your safeword.”

Roger just looked at him in confusion.

Brian sat down on the bed, his head in his hands.

“Roger, have you never had limits? Things that you definitely aren’t comfortable with?”

The blond just shrugged. “I didn’t know I could.”

Brian grimaced. “Oh you poor dear. I’m so sorry.”

Roger looked at him strangely. “Have I done something wrong?”

Brian just shook his head. “No. Everyone else did.”

Roger was still standing there looking at him sort of helplessly, so Brian decided it was time to take control. “I want you strip Roger, and then lie down on the bed.”

Roger dutifully complied, and Brian took the opportunity to fully appreciate the young man’s pale, perfect skin and his slender physique.

Brian palmed his growing erection, clearly visible where he reclined on the bed. He wanted very badly to praise the young man, but he didn’t know his needs yet, so he bit his tongue.

“Alright Roger, come lie down on the bed,” he said as he gently patted the spot beside him. When Roger was in place, he went to the dresser and withdrew a blindfold and some soft cotton rope.

“Think of a word that you can remember,” Brian said, “and if things get to be too much and you need me to stop, just say that word and things will stop, no questions asked. That word is called your safeword. Ok Roger?”

Roger blinked up at him with those liquid blue eyes. “You won’t be mad if I say it?”

Brian smiled. “No, of course not. I have one too. Mine is dessert. If I say the word dessert, everything stops. Now what about you?”

Roger finally smiled. “Rainbow,” he said.

“Ok Roger now what’s mine?”

“Dessert,” Roger said.

“And yours is rainbow,” Brian said.

Roger nodded.

“Good, we have an understanding. Now Roger, I’m going to put this blindfold on you. Is that alright?”

Roger smiled, his tongue stuck cutely between his teeth. “You don’t have to ask, it’s your hour.”

Brian tutted. “I do have to ask. Because good sex is always consensual. So is that OK with you?”

“Yeah,” Roger finally said.

Brian blindfolded Roger and then bound his hands, again asking his permission to do so. He could tell this type of communication was a foreign experience for Roger, who was probably used to men having their way with him and then just leaving. It made Brian unspeakably sad.

Brian looked down at the blond, the red silk blindfold over his eyes and his arms tied over his head, and something twisted in his gut. “You’re so beautiful,” Brian whispered, as he trailed over Roger’s chest, eliciting a gasp from Roger.

“You want me to suck your cock,” Roger whispered.

“I want you to stop talking,” Brian said flatly. “You’re being very naughty, speaking out of turn, and you’ll need to be punished. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Roger responded immediately, jerking as Brian plucked one of his nipples.

“On your knees,” Brian commanded. “Elbows together so you can lean on them.”

Roger did as he was told, bum in the air with his back arched in a beautiful bow. When the cool sensation of Brian’s lubricated fingers hit his rim, his whole body jumped.

“Easy now, love,” Brian soothed, “nice and easy.” One finger went in easily, making teasing circles against Roger’s walls. A little puff of air escaped Roger’s lips, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut tight.

“Have you been told to be quiet love?” Brian frowned. “I would love to hear you sing.” He slipped another finger in, aiming for that little bundle of nerves.

Roger tensed immediately, crying out as Brian began working him open in earnest now. “Wh-what was that?” Roger’s legs were trembling, and tears were straining his voice.

Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Don’t’ tell me you’ve never had your prostate massaged before.” For some reason, Brian felt like crying. “Why, you’re practically a virgin.”

Tears soaked the blindfold as another shudder of pleasure shot through him. Then Brian removed his fingers, and a strange calm settled over Roger.

“On your back,” Brian said roughly. He was touching himself with his slick fingers, almost ready to come apart.

The blindfold slipped free, and Brian’s hands were on him.

“You’re so good for me,” Brian murmured into his neck, “so good,” the praise falling so easily from his mouth whether the young blond was ready to receive it or not. The slick fingers settled around Roger’s cock, and Roger jerked into them, his breath hitching.

“I usually don’t…no one ever…”

“Shh baby,” he cooed as he slowly worked him. “Let me take care of you.”

Brian spread the precum already gathered over Roger’s aching cock, easing the way for his able fingers, applying delicious pressure up and down the throbbing member.

And Roger began to cry.

With his head buried in the curly-haired man’s shoulder, slowly fucking up into his hand, he cried. Because no one had ever cared enough to treat him like this before, and their hour was almost up.

---

Freddie slammed John against the back of the door, his hand going down to grab his ass. “I gotta say I got the belle of the ball,” he said between wet kisses. “Can’t wait to get you out of these little shorts.”

“Yessir,” John gasped as Freddie lightly pulled his hair, leading him in the direction of the bed.

“We use the traffic lights, OK,” Freddie got out between kisses. He was tugging on the edge of John’s shirt, his hands under the hem.

“Sir?”

“You know, green, yellow, and red,” Freddie said distractedly. He was busy getting John naked, and missed the question in his voice.

“Oh, right,” John said, not knowing in the slightest what he was talking about, but afraid to lose a client.

Then Freddie gasped, and John remembered.

He should’ve just given him a blow job.

“Oh, darling.”

John put his arms around himself, as if that would do anything to hide the deep angry gashes on his back and buttocks. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Freddie.

Freddie could feel the rage building just beneath his skin, manifesting itself in a slight tremble in his limbs. “You have nothing to be sorry for my dear. The bastard who did this and then left you like this is the one who should be sorry.”

John ducked his head, a tear escaping his thick lashes.

“Come on,” he said as he put his arm around the young man’s shoulders. “Let’s get these tended too and then we’ll have a cuddle, hmm?”

John sniffed, looking at him through his long silky hair. “A cuddle?” The concept seemed so foreign.

Freddie smiled. “Go ahead John and lie down on the bed. I’ll get us a blanket.” Freddie rummaged around in the dresser drawers until he found some cream. It was a little late to tend John’s wounds, but he couldn’t not do anything. And it would be soothing.

Freddie settled on the bed, the pot of cream in his hands. He looked at the brunet, spread on his stomach with his hair spilled around his shoulders. He was certainly a lovely young thing, and so trusting. It was a shame he had been mistreated so.

John couldn’t stifle a moan when the cool cream hit his burning skin. He relaxed even further into the bed as Freddie treated the ugly wounds, causing Freddie’s mouth to twitch.

“You’re breathtaking John,” he whispered. “No one should’ve ever done this to you. Not ever.”

“I’m ugly,” John said quietly. “And I deserved it.”

“Darling.” Freddie nudged him where he lay on the pillow. He could tell the young man was crying from the quiet sniffs he was making. “Turn over. Look at me.”

John obeyed, turning over to look at Freddie. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but his lips were full and sweet.

“Why do you think you deserved a punishment like this, love?”

John averted his eyes, almost afraid if he divulged his reasons he would be punished again. “I couldn’t swallow,” he said as he chewed his lip. “He wanted me to swallow, and I had to spit it out.” John looked nervously at Freddie. “It was an accident,” he added as an afterthought.

Freddie felt heart flip at how vulnerable he looked lying there making his confession, which was no confession at all. This rare flower deserved nothing but to be loved and cared for, not to be used night after night.

“John, darling,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “May I blow you?”

John’s eyes grew wide. “Why?”

Freddie chuckled good-naturedly. “Because it’s my hour and that’s what I would like to do.” Freddie smiled at the timid young man. “Is that OK with you?”

John nodded, a bit dumbstruck.

Freddie’s mouth sank onto John’s cock, hot and heavenly, and John instinctively arched into his mouth. Freddie held his arms, letting his hips move, allowing him the freedom to fuck up into his mouth, to wiggle and writhe like it was the first time he had ever been touched. Maybe it was. Freddie didn’t care. He just knew he wanted to do it again and again. But his hour was almost up.

-0-0-0-

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atenementfunster · 5 years

Text

and keep good company

branching out of my comfort zone here to give you some (nsfw) ridge farm content. enjoy!

So, here’s the thing about the farm.

It’s exactly what they’ve all needed, in a way; the near complete isolation gives them a chance to really lay the groundwork for the eclectic creation all on the tips of their fingers, barely within grasp. But, with that comes the exposure to the stress they’re trying to keep from collapsing under, the knowledge that they’re clawing their way out of a financial hole, and if this doesn’t cut it, then nothing else will.

Or maybe that’s just Roger. (He doubts it.)

Freddie takes to it like he takes to all things: head-on with abandon, a whirlwind of passion and machinations that only he can see. It’s endearing and maddening with equal measure, especially when they are only getting an eighth of a picture that Freddie wants perfected.

John is reserved but steady, a good foundation as he always is. Roger doesn’t think he’s ever had to rely on it quite this much, John’s reliable companionship and talent, and he appreciates it all the same.

Brian is -

Brian is.

It’s hard for Roger, knowing that Brian has his ups and downs and never quite knowing what to do with it. Which is the point, he supposes - it’s not his business, and not everything can be solved by another person, no matter how much they want to help. And Brian, he’s been good, the past few weeks. Smiling, joining them in the kitchen, talking about an odd dream or offering up a complimentary riff to something John is hashing out. It’s good, and he seems good.

Roger isn’t sure why he’s waiting for an inevitability that might never happen. Being this on-edge, watching for signs of Brian’s slow slip into sadness, it’s affecting his thought process, and his songs are sliding through his fingers, a mess of half-formed wishes and wants.

He’s also really ready for a lay, and that isn’t helping, either.

They all must have subconsciously known it would be a problem. Or again, maybe it’s just Roger - maybe they’re all fine, sharing a remote farmhouse with three other attractive men and are perfectly capable of getting their rocks off without wanting to jump the bones of the next guy that rounds the kitchen door.

So he walks around with his shirts unbuttoned and his pants too tight, because hey, it’s hot, and also, could one of them please just touch him?

There’s a chill in the studio, so his shirt is sadly buttoned and his arms littered with goosebumps, because he’s stopping and starting and he has just enough energy to work up a sweat before he has to stop to fiddle with lyrics. He’s never been one to work through a whole number the way Brian seems able to, in cohesive parts. It’s line by line for him, making sure the drums tell the same story the lyrics do.

He doesn’t see the door to the recording booth open, and he doesn’t see Brian watching him through the glass, but he does hear when he hops on the overhead speaker and says “mind if I join you?”

Roger jumps but keeps the beat he’s working with, glaring and wrinkling his nose. “Only if you stop stalking around like a cat,” he says, loud enough for the mic to pick it up. “Gonna give you a bell, I swear.”

He plays around with the rototoms as Brian enters, a twelve string over his shoulder. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting company, and Roger blinks at him, wondering if he’s gonna have the gall to ask him to leave. But he sets the quiet thing down and picks up the Red Special, sliding the strap under his curls. They’re getting long and less loose, tight little things coiling round and round, hiding his neck more often than not.

Roger blinks and looks back down at the kit, and says, “can’t sleep?”

It is late, he realizes as he says it. Schedules have never been a strong suit for any of them sans John, so it’s not altogether worrisome. Still, Roger makes sure his tone is passive and mild, an afterthought.

“Rested a bit earlier. Wanted to lay down some groundwork.” He strums a few chords to ensure it’s in tune, then looks up at Roger, face pale but eyes free of exhaustion. “I liked what you were working on.”

Preening at the praise, Roger shifts on the stool. It doesn’t come liberally from Brian, so he’ll take what he can get, especially since he’s sure he won’t approve of the lyrics. “Thanks. I have an idea of what you could bring to it, if you wanted to give it a go?”

They both find their rhythm at that, a space that’s always a comfort and source of energy. Brian’s in a pleasant mood, providing suggestions that would normally come off as demands, adjustments that sometimes ring in on the wrong side of demeaning, but don’t tonight. It’s nice, and Roger finds his nervous energy ebbing away.

When he’s nicked a knuckle for the third time in a row and Brian catches the blood on one of the floor toms, he’s calling it a night before Roger can summon the breath to argue. “It’s late,” he says, setting down his guitar like he’s putting a child to bed. His eyes are all for Roger though, and the gaze has Roger frozen to his stool and staring stupidly up at him.

“We’re on a roll.”

“Yes, and you’re bleeding everywhere, love,” Brian replies as he rummages around the feet of the tom for the bandages he knows Roger keeps there. And Roger, he can’t help the adoration that swells in his chest like a riptide, threatening to pull him under. Mute, he reaches out for the gauze but jumps when Brian takes his hands and starts dabbing and wrapping his ring finger, eyes downcast and lashes fanning over his cheekbones.

Roger accidentally breaks the silence with a shaky breath, and Brian looks up, eyes wide but expression open. Thanks, he wants to say. You didn’t have to do that, is what he would normally say. But now he doesn’t say anything, he just reaches up with his other hand and rests his fingertips, feather-light, on Brian’s cheek.

There’s a spell laid over them, a moment in time where they stare at each other, unsure. Roger’s never done well with stillness, though, so he leans in and says, very softly, “I wanna kiss you.”

Brian says nothing at all, and Roger is a hair’s breadth away from leaning back and away, because he doesn’t want to ruin anything, when Brian nods.

It’s all the permission Roger needs to lean in and do what he’s promised.

It’s simple at first; it doesn’t feel like an awakening. Brian isn’t the first man he’s kissed, but he’s the first one that’s really mattered. Sliding his hand over his cheek and into his hair feels somehow more intimate, and Roger brings his injured hand up to Brian’s neck and presses two, three more kisses to his lips, until Brian, apparently more enthusiastic than Roger would have given him credit for, licks his bottom lip.

It turns his brain over, opening his mouth easily to let Brian find his tongue, and it’s slow and gentle until it’s not.

Both of them must be overwhelmed, Roger knows, and it doesn’t show until he leans forward and almost falls off the stool and into Brian’s chest, surprising a laugh out of him. Never one to be laughed at, Roger pulls back and wrinkles his nose, but he’s breathing heavily and is already achingly turned on, so he has a feeling his irritation is wasted.

Which is probably a good thing, because he looks, really looks at Brian, whose face is flushed and lips are slick with spit, eyes half-lidded and hair already a mess, and Roger can’t keep his hands off him.

Grabbing his elbows and pushing, Roger makes it clear that he wants off the damn stool and somewhere more comfortable. Getting the message, Brian takes a few awkward steps back in a crouch, then falls on his ass when Roger pushes at his shoulders again and climbs unabashedly onto his lap, straddling him into the floor. It’s not the best feeling for his knees, but he’s young and spry; he soon forgets the discomfort when he grinds down and gets to hear Brian moan into his mouth, and doesn’t that just go straight to his dick.

“Rog,” Brian says, pulling back so quickly Roger’s leaning forward to try and find his mouth again. For one terrifying moment, Roger thinks he’s gonna push him off, tell him it’s too much, but all he does is card his fingers through his hair. “This is good, right? Okay?”

“You’re asking me if this is okay?” Roger asks, then grinds down again, cock aching in his too-tight jeans. Brian shifts and his eyelids flutter. “I’m more than okay.”

“Okay.” The smile Brian gives him is small and rather shy, and Roger blinks stupidly at how pretty he looks, smiling like that with red lips and mussed hair.

Roger kisses him without a thought, marvelling that he can, that it was this easy. “Chuffed.”

“You gonna keep talking or can I take your clothes off?”

Roger’s eyes widen, he can’t help it, mouth falling open as he nods. Brian’s smile turns a bit wicked and he pushes in, hands demanding on his sides as he pulls the shirt over Roger’s head and throws it behind him. He thinks it lands on one of the cymbals, but Roger can’t be assed to look, he’s busy shoving his tongue into Brian’s mouth, an effort of showing him just how chuffed he is.

Brian’s hands are all over him, sliding up and down his sides, rubbing his shoulders, raking through his hair, and in no time flat he’s practically writhing under the ministrations. “Wanted you to touch me forever,” he says against Brian’s mouth. “Think about it all the time.”

“You in those shirts, I’m not surprised,” Brian says, voice pitched low. “I’ve seen you looking at me, at John and Freddie. Not very subtle.” His practically growling, soft words purred against his throat, and Roger catches a whine before it can break free and further embarrass him. “Such a tease.”

His thumbs find Roger’s nipples and he arches with a jolt, his touch like an electric shock. This time there’s no stopping the whine, and he grabs at Brian’s scalp as he sucks and bites a bruise into his neck, every inch of him shaking with want.

Brian pushes at him, huge hands holding his ribcage as he encourages him out of his lap and onto the floor. Down Roger goes, hair splayed behind him, and Brian wastes no time in stretching out above him, grinding their dicks together as he takes Roger’s face in his hands.

For a moment it’s too much, pleasure and love mixing to make him a writhing mess on the floor, overcome by everything he’s been wanting and not knowing what to do now that he has it. The moment passes, though, and he grabs Brian’s ass and pulls it forward, moaning into his mouth as they kiss, wet and filthy. One clever hand has snaked south and Brian shifts a bit, giving him access to the button’s at Roger’s crotch. It’s undone in an impressively short time, not that Roger’s particularly surprised. The huff he gets once his fly is undone is one of surprise, though, and Brian reels back, an incredulous smile on his flushed face.

“Really, Rog?”

“Maybe I haven’t done the wash in a while,” Roger says, wiggling beneath him and arching one eyebrow. Brian laughs and takes Roger in hand with little anticipation, and it cuts off Roger’s snark and molds it into a rough inhale. It’s a gentle touch, hesitant and almost reverent, and Roger arches up off the floor a bit as he watches those long fingers curl around his cock.

“Wow, that’s,” Roger says, and sighs into Brian’s mouth as he leans in to presumably shut him up again.

Brian jerks him off like he must do himself, Roger thinks, pace undulating from fast to slow. It’s an awkward angle, but Roger’s slowly going crazy, pinned beneath him and leaking precome over Brian’s fist, so it’s definitely not bad. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he has one on Brian’s ass, slid in his jeans and briefs and everything, and the other in his hair. Brian moaning into his mouth as Roger gropes him has to be just about the hottest thing that’s ever happened in this studio, and Roger can’t help it, he’s thrusting weakly into Brian’s hand. They’re barely kissing at this point, just hot breath and tongue, and Brian is still fully clothed, and it’s so impossibly good that Roger’s already close. He’s be embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking ready to come all over Brian’s chest.

“I’ve thought about this,” Brian breathes against his lips. “About you, laid out beneath me. So pretty, Roger, all the noises you make. I’ve imagined it, what it would be like to finally get my hands on you.”

“Oh my god,” Roger says. It’s too much, Brian towering over him, whispering filth as he jerks him off, it’s way too much. “Brian,” he says, practically a wail, and he knows his face must be horribly scrunched up, but he can’t help it. He’s been so desperate for this, and knowing Brian has been wanting it too?

“Come on, Rog,” Brian murmurs, picking up the pace as he ruts against his thigh. “Come on, love.”

Too much.

Roger comes with high keen, muffled by Brian’s neck as he thrusts erratically into the heat of his hand. Brian’s other hand is pressed against his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone. When he finally sags, panting against Brian’s neck, he feels him shifting his weight a bit. He catches his breath for a moment, marveling at how well fucked he feels without actually having fucked anyone, before he feels Brian shift again. Worried he’d gonna get up, Roger blinks and leans back a bit and sees Brian pulling his own cock out of his pants, face red. Leaning in and kissing him is the easiest thing, as is leaning back and saying, “here, shove off,” and sliding a bit down the floor. Brian looks confused for a moment, but his expression shifts when Roger takes one of his hips in hand and pushes so he’s on his back.

“You don’t have to,” Brian says, voice rough.

Roger glares at him, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “Shut up and let me blow you.”

“Jesus christ,” Brian mumbles, and it seems like talking filthy isn’t something he likes to just give.

Roger’s never sucked dick before, and he’s certainly not an idiot that’s gonna try too hard and choke. He takes a moment to assess before taking Brian in hand at the base, eliciting a rough groan, then takes the head in his mouth, rolling the taste and texture over his tongue. It’s not great, but the noises Brian is making are, so it’s a win for him. It’s even better when those long fingers find the base of his skull and grab, and Roger can feel the restraint in the shaking of his hands. Roger almost wants to pull back and tell him to let go, to fuck his face, but he doesn’t think he could handle it just yet.

Brian’s stiff beneath him, shifting slightly on the floor, making little noises that make Roger’s toes curl. “Oh Rog, this is -”

Roger squeezes and runs his fist up the base of his dick and licks at the same time, and Brian makes a sound that he’s never heard, and it’s one he wants to hear again, so he does it again. This time, Brian can’t seem to help it, and he bucks once up into Roger’s mouth. It’s not altogether unpleasant, but Roger presses his other hand to Brian’s hip, then slides it up under his shirt to rub at his side.

“Rog I’m not gonna last, come on now,” he says, all throaty and out of breath, and it sounds so lovely that Roger can’t humor the idea of stopping, so he tries taking a bit more of him into his mouth instead. Brian moans loudly and filthily, and Roger blinks up at him. Brian seems to know he’s being watched, because he looks down, meets Roger’s gaze, and his mouth falls open. It might have been a warning, but he never gets that far, because he’s shooting off in Roger’s mouth the next second.

Surprised, Roger reels back and coughs a bit, but he still jerks Brian through it, watching with some fascination as Brian stripes his fist, his own stomach.

Roger rubs Brian’s side as he comes down, shaking breaths filling the studio space. When Brian looks down at him, strands of hair sticking to his cheeks and temples, Roger grins up at him, unabashed.

“You’ve got a little something,” Brian says after a breath, looking somewhat pained as he points to his own mouth. Roger licks his lips without breaking his gaze, and grins when he sees Brian swallow roughly.

“You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” He asks, reaching down and pulling Roger up to him so he’s draped over his chest. It’s a bit disgusting, what with them both being covered in come - Brian’s at least still got his shirt on.

“Looking forward to finding out,” Roger settles on, kissing the underside of his jaw. He gets Brian’s hair in his mouth, and when Brian laughs at the face he pulls, he supposes he deserves it.

(blame @a-belladonic-haze and @meddows-taylor for this completely, btw)

#maylor #with some ot4 if you squint #queen fic #feel free to reblog if u like #my fic

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sharkfish · 6 years

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Soooo, let's say hypothetically if I've started dabbling in the Sterek fandom, could you recommend some of your favorite fics? You've got excellent taste!

here i go here i go here i go girls what’s my weakness STILES AND DEREK! (*my brain just played me far more of that song than i thought i knew)

(i’m not really involved with the sterek fandom on tumblr so i don’t know most of these peep’s tumblr urls if they exist – plz tag in replies if you recognize anyone)

like 98% of these are E rated >:)

everything is in alphabetical order EXCEPT!!!!!!! this is very possibly my favorite fic of all time and i’ve read it a thousand times and will keep rereading it until the day i die!!!!

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll (9.5k)

derek and stiles model for a softcore werewolf skin mag. basically, porn of stiles being all pretty and biteable and then a werewolf being all bitey, except of course derek and stiles shoot together A LOT, and when stiles shows up to a shoot with a hickey, derek LOSES HIS GODDAMN MIND (in the best way)

“You’ve got a hickey on the back of your neck!” A Neckz ‘n Throats story.

Alpha Complex by Hatteress (goddammitstacey) (3.4k)

oh, you’re interested in some subby bottom derek? let me tell you a little story….

“Hold still,” Stiles says, hand clamping down on the back of Derek’s neck to keep him from turning and it’s laughable, really – the thought that that would be enough to hold him. Except it is. Because Stiles’ fingers are gripping the nape of Derek’s neck, pressure sure and hard and Derek- Derek can’t fucking breathe.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by LiviKate (17.3k)

this is a fic i go back to over and over when i just need to be punched in the heart. i’m a ho for stiles (stupidly!!!) thinking he’s somehow below derek’s level attraction-wise, and this has that in droves. it’s also about derek’s recovery from the sexual abuse he suffered with kate, in a way that i think is done with a (deservedly) delicate hand. (i’m holding myself in from going off on a [positive] tangent about the way fandom talks about derek’s abuse, but i have Thoughts.)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly.

The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection.

“So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’

Cornerstone by Vendelin for foreverblue_navy (83k)

this was the first sterek fic i loved and therefore the gateway drug. it’s so lovely in so many ways, AND ALSO, any time someone is like “k i’m only saying this cuz i’m your bff, not bc i have any sort of romantic inclinations or anything crazy, but i’d make the sacrifice to practice kissing with you, just to help you out”

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) by yodasyoyo (5.7k)

you know, i don’t read fics with kids (either them as kids or as parents) very often, but i’m kind of wondering why not, because i do love a good best friends from childhood to duh you morons lovers story. obviously this is a slightly different twist but the things i loved about it where the same sorts of feelings as that

Stiles is six years old when he first hears Derek’s voice in his head.

Or what happens if you have a soulmate bond, in a universe where soulmate bonds don’t exist?

Promise You’ll Look After Him by DiscontentedWinter (9.9k)

this is honestly one of the most powerful fics i’ve ever read. it’s the pov of stiles’s dad after stiles is sexually assaulted, so it fucking HURTS, but ultimately, it’s a story about profound love, both familial and romantic. (sorrynotsorry: sheriff stilinski is the father john winchester should’ve been.)

Sheriff Stilinski is used to dealing with victims of violent crime. He knows how to approach kids who’ve been beaten and sexually assaulted.

Except this time it’s his son.

It’s Stiles.

Sell Your Body to the Night by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (121k)

i can’t remember who on tumblr convinced me to read this? i remember someone telling me about it, and then emphasizing that the watersports tag is only for a single scene at the beginning of ch9 that is entirely skippable. i knew my stupid ass was going to read it anyway so mostly i was just afraid something was going to be awakened. IT WASN’T THANK GOD but this fic is so fucking incredible i don’t even care that derek paid like $5000 to pee on stiles. i can’t believe i just typed that sentence. THIS STORY HURTS A LOT!!!!!!! but then it feels better a lot

“No,” he repeated impatiently. “I’m not a cop. I’m someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work.”

“I, uh, yeah, sorry,” Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up–the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. “Yeah, I am. I do that.”

Sour Kush by alisvolatpropiis (15k - series)

stonerstonerstonerstonerfic (there is a pt2, read it also)

Stiles mentally curses Erica, because in all of her warnings about how brusque this guy could be, she forgot mention that he’s also hotter than the fucking sun. If Stiles had any lingering questions about his sexuality, they’d be completely settled by what this guy is doing to him. In fact, he might not even be gay anymore. He might be in the midst of crossing into some yet-to-be-named sexuality that’s all about a scruffy black beard and alarming green eyes and muscles and tattoos and this guy’s everything ever.

The guy’s name is Derek, his lust-addled brain supplies distantly.

Well that settles it, then. Stiles is Dereksexual.

Sweeter Than Honey by the_painless_moustache (9.4k)

this is a fic that made me start thinking about what kind of non-sexual symptoms an omega might have during heat. stiles is a totally adorable disaster and derek is a totally adorable alpha trying to awkwardly court him. and none of their friends appreciate stiles like they should >:|

Stiles is probably the worst omega ever, which drives every one of his friends insane. Except for, surprisingly, Derek.

That’s Why He Lets Him In by alisvolatpropiis (12k - series)

this series is…. holy fuck. this is a stiles that was raised by sam and dean winchester as a hunter (just referenced, they don’t appear on screen). derek is a werewolf stiles let get away, and now they hate-fuck, except not really, bc they are desperately in love. it’s a little darker in tone but the writing is just – fuckin whoa.

Derek was about to rip Stiles’ throat out with his teeth and the crazy kid had just laughed, no trace of fear in his scent. He looked into Derek’s enraged eyes and smiled, welcoming his death.

That’s why he lets him in.

Trust Me by Areiton @areiton (4.8k)

in which a destiel & a sterek have a foursome. iirc, arei had written this (unbeknownst to be) like 2 days before i started obsessing about d2cs and wrote my fic mai tai. if i had known about this fic i probably wouldn’t have bothered writing my own xD

“What the hell are they doing here,” Stiles snaps.

“Do you trust me,” Derek asks, squeezing his hand and the tension and anger drains out of Stiles as he licks his lips.

You Were a Kindness When I Was a Stranger by DevilDoll (8k)

there is a specific sentence in this FANTASTIC bdsm fic that makes me run in circles screaming every time i even THINK about it omfg

“It’s not all handcuffs and spankings and learning to deep throat.” This is an AU with consensual BDSM sex acts, in which Derek supports Stiles financially in exchange for a sexual relationship. Stiles is of legal age.

Unsaid the Word by aerialiste @aerialiste (20.7k)

this is some Good Clean Academic AU Fun. i’ve read it multiple times and it’s a delight over and over.

Derek Hale, Stiles thought, indignant, was a goddamned scholiastic menace.

In which tenure-track Professor Derek Hale is polite and friendly to Stiles Stilinski, ABD, every year at the academic conference they both attend; and Stiles tries to be contented with pining after him—until after one night at a bar, far too many doubles, and some injudicious texting, thanks to his total inability to know when to stop talking, Stiles just may have ruined everything.

plzplzplzplz if you enjoy these fics, leave the author some comment & kudos love and share with your friends!!!

#starsinursa #sharkrecs #sterek #READ THEM #LOVE THEM #COMMENT THEM

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arsyeong · 6 years

Text

our page | pjy.

request: hello! was wondering if i could request a writing with jinyoung where he meets the reader in a bookstore & they start talking/swap some book suggestions. then maybe he like confesses or something to liking the reader with a note on the inside of the book. sorry if it’s sooo specific i was trying to be creative whoops lol. thanks in advance! Keep up the great writing too :) -@candybubbles13

Your job brought you many wonders.

Not only do you gain some money you could use for personal expenses, but you also get to read books (and maybe have some coffee) as you work. All you have to do was look up every once in while to make sure nobody was having a fist fight inside and check out the books people were buying. After that, you could return to your own world and be at peace once more.

One of those times you looked up, you were met with a different sight. The calming view of customers, studying students and loads of books were replaced by an angel with a book on the counter.

“Is reading on the job okay here?” he asked, but you were too busy admiring his perfect eyebrows and big ears to understand what he just said. He coughed, making you jump from your seat and look him in the eye.

“Yes? How may I help you?” you asked him, hoping he had ignored your ogling. He pointed to the book you held behind you, one of your fingers acting as a temporary bookmark.

“All The Bright Places, huh?”

You nodded, smiling in hopes that he had actually read the book and not just the title to make small talk. He shrugged and said, “I believe Holding Up The Universe was better, but everybody is entitled to their own opinions.”

“But may I know why you think it was a better book?” you asked, intrigued. Nobody had ever made small talk with you, especially not an attractive man.

“Both books have great messages and have stories that are equally thrilling, don’t get me wrong,” he started, sounding so serious and passionate about giving his opinion on a book that it made you admire this absolute stranger. “But the body positivity message Holding Up The Universe has is much more applicable to me.”

“Oh,” you say afterwards, still in shock of the fact that this angel was actually talking to you. “So I guess you think books you could relate to more are better than those you don’t really relate to?”

“Exactly!” he said. The passion burning in his eyes also powered his voice to increase in volume a bit, waking up one of the students who had fallen asleep in the middle of studying. You smiled awkwardly at her in apology, but he only looked at you, wondering who you were smiling at.

“So you could relate to The Land of 10,000 Madonnas?” you ask to continue to conversation, pointing at the book he had placed on the counter.

“I haven’t read it yet,” he said. You mentally slapped yourself; why would he buy a book he had already read? With another awkward smile on your face, you took the book from him and started the transaction.

“Have you ever read the Harry Potter series?” he asked you as you worked. You simply shook your head and took his payment.

“Read it,” he says. “It may be childish and overrated to some, but I assure you that it is worth it.”

“Maybe I will,” you say as you hand him his book. He takes it with a smile on his face, making his eyes disappear as a dimple does the opposite. You find yourself staring at him again.

The two of you stand there for a while before he speaks up, “So are you going to recommend me something to read?”

“Huh?” You snap out of your trance. “What do you mean?”

“I gave you a book recommendation,” he said slowly, as if he was explaining something to a five-year-old.

And, like a five-year-old, you nod along to what he was saying with a confused expression on your face as you tried to understand. “In order for a book swap to work, the receiver has to give a recommendation to the the giver as well.”

“Okay,” you say finally. “Read Paper Towns by John Green.”

“Been there, done that.”

“The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald?”

“Nope.”

“The Alchemist? Paulo Coelho?”

He shakes his head. You put your hands up and sigh in frustration. “A dictionary?”

He laughs, a beautiful sound you never thought you would hear in your entire life. You must have looked really ridiculous for him to be laughing so long, but it was okay as you have found something else about him to admire - his eye crinkles.

“Ah,” he says after a while. You weren’t sure if he had actually wiped away a tear or he was just exaggerating. “You’re so cute, (Y/N).”

You were taken by surprise at the way your name had rolled off his lips. At this point, you were convinced that everything that would come out of his mouth was something like a choir of angels singing. He could let out all of the curse words and insults he knew, and you would still think they were from heaven.

Maybe, you thought to yourself, the reason he likes books is because he’s so good with words himself.

Instead of complimenting him back, however, you stupidly opened your stupid mouth and stupidly asked, “How did you know my name?”

He simply pointed at the name tag that adorned you as the only uniform you had. You felt your cheeks turn red in humiliation, so you decide to look behind him to check if other people were in line and the two of you were taking so long. Though you saw no one, you were still afraid that somebody had been there before but had already left to talk to the manager and have you fired. You didn’t want to lose this job.

He snapped his fingers in front of you, successfully getting your attention. “You zoned out there for a while,” he chuckled, but it was laced with concern as well. “I told you I would be reading Paper Towns next.”

“But I thought you were finished reading?”

“I was joking,” he says. He looked as if he was trying to suppress his smile but was failing miserably (not like you were complaining). “I also said that my name is Jinyoung.”

“Huh?”

“Since I knew your name, I thought you should know mine,” he explains and you nod. He pauses for a while before asking, “Do you always partake in conversations by asking questions?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, baffled. You yourself didn’t know why you were so out of it.

“There you go again,” he says with a gentle smile. “Throughout our entire conversation, your part was 90% questioning me.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright,” he says. “Maybe you would start making more statements as this friendship of ours develops.”

He was already walking away when you had finished processing his words. “What?” you screamed out after him in confusion. This friendship of ours?

“I shall return!” he screams back.

You were too focused on watching the last of him disappear to notice the glares some people were giving you. A few seconds after he left was the only time you apologized for being too loud. You stood still, staring at the door just in case he came back (maybe he forgot something?), but you retreated to your seat when you realized he wasn’t coming back.

You read another line before putting the book down. Thoughts of Jinyoung and your earlier conversation consumed you, making it hard to focus on Violet’s narrative. You remembered his smile, his eyes, his words and everything about him.

Lost in the memory of him, you didn’t even realize how quickly time passed by. The next thing you knew, you were already making your way home, some of your money missing and the first book of the Harry Potter series in your backpack.

#got7 #park jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #got7 scenarios #park jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung scenarios #got7 jinyoung scenarios #park jinyoung fluff #jinyoung fluff #got7 fluff #got7 jinyoung fluff #bookstore #book recommendations #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #requested

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