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makingqueerhistory · 7 months

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Queer Books Challenged in Florida Schools and Libraries

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Gender Queer: A Memoir, Maia Kobabe: Now, Gender Queer is here. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears.

The Color Purple, Alice Walker: Separated as girls, sisters Celie and Nettie sustain their loyalty to and hope in each other across time, distance and silence. Through a series of letters spanning nearly thirty years, first from Celie to God, then the sisters to each other despite the unknown, the novel draws readers into its rich and memorable portrayals of Celie, Nettie, Shug Avery and Sofia and their experience. The Color Purple broke the silence around domestic and sexual abuse, narrating the lives of women through their pain and struggle, companionship and growth, resilience and bravery.

Julián Is a Mermaid, Jessica Love: While riding the subway home from the pool with his abuela one day, Julián notices three women spectacularly dressed up. Their hair billows in brilliant hues, their dresses end in fishtails, and their joy fills the train car. When Julián gets home, daydreaming of the magic he's seen, all he can think about is dressing up just like the ladies in his own fabulous mermaid costume: a butter-yellow curtain for his tail, the fronds of a potted fern for his headdress. But what will Abuela think about the mess he makes -- and even more importantly, what will she think about how Julián sees himself? Mesmerizing and full of heart, Jessica Love's author-illustrator debut is a jubilant picture of self-love and a radiant celebration of individuality.

Drama: A Graphic Novel, Raina Telgemeier: Callie loves theater. And while she would totally try out for her middle school's production of Moon over Mississippi, she can't really sing. Instead she's the set designer for the drama department's stage crew, and this year she's determined to create a set worthy of Broadway on a middle-school budget. But how can she, when she doesn't know much about carpentry, ticket sales are down, and the crew members are having trouble working together? Not to mention the onstage AND offstage drama that occurs once the actors are chosen. And when two cute brothers enter the picture, things get even crazier!

Cemetery Boys, Aiden Thomas: Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can't get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his true gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school's resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

I Am Billie Jean King, Brad Meltzer: This friendly, fun biography series focuses on the traits that made our heroes great--the traits that kids can aspire to in order to live heroically themselves. Each book tells the story of one of America's icons in a lively, conversational way that works well for the youngest nonfiction readers and that always includes the hero's childhood influences. At the back are an excellent timeline and photos. This volume features Billie Jean King, the world champion tennis player who fought successfully for women's rights. From a young age, Billie Jean King loved sports--especially tennis! But as she got older, she realized that plenty of people, even respected male athletes, didn't take women athletes seriously. She set to prove them wrong and show girls everywhere that sports are for everyone, regardless of gender.

This One Summer, Mariko Tamaki: Every summer, Rose goes with her mom and dad to a lake house in Awago Beach. It's their getaway, their refuge. Rosie's friend Windy is always there, too, like the little sister she never had. But this summer is different. Rose's mom and dad won't stop fighting, and when Rose and Windy seek a distraction from the drama, they find themselves with a whole new set of problems. One of the local teens - just a couple of years older than Rose and Windy - is caught up in something bad... Something life threatening. It's a summer of secrets, and sorrow, and growing up, and it's a good thing Rose and Windy have each other.

Marriage of a Thousand Lies, Sj Sindu: Lucky and her husband, Krishna, are gay. They present an illusion of marital bliss to their conservative Sri Lankan-American families, while each dates on the side. It's not ideal, but for Lucky, it seems to be working. She goes out dancing, she drinks a bit, she makes ends meet by doing digital art on commission. But when Lucky's grandmother has a nasty fall, Lucky returns to her childhood home and unexpectedly reconnects with her former best friend and first lover, Nisha, who is preparing for her own arranged wedding with a man she's never met.

And Tango Makes Three, Peter Parnell: At the penguin house at the Central Park Zoo, two penguins named Roy and Silo were a little bit different from the others. But their desire for a family was the same. And with the help of a kindly zookeeper, Roy and Silo got the chance to welcome a baby penguin of their very own.

More Happy Than Not, Adam Silvera: In the months following his father's suicide, sixteen-year-old Aaron Soto can't seem to find happiness again, despite the support of his girlfriend, Genevieve, and his overworked mom. Grief and the smile-shaped scar on his wrist won't let him forget the pain. But when Aaron meets Thomas, a new kid in the neighborhood, something starts to shift inside him. Aaron can't deny his unexpected feelings for Thomas despite the tensions their friendship has created with Genevieve and his tight-knit crew. Since Aaron can't stay away from Thomas or turn off his newfound happiness, he considers taking drastic actions. The Leteo Institute's revolutionary memory-altering procedure will straighten him out, even if it means forgetting who he truly is.

Melissa, Alex Gino: When people look at Melissa, they think they see a boy named George. But she knows she's not a boy. She knows she's a girl.

Melissa thinks she'll have to keep this a secret forever. Then her teacher announces that their class play is going to be Charlotte's Web. Melissa really, really, REALLY wants to play Charlotte. But the teacher says she can't even try out for the part... because she's a boy.

With the help of her best friend, Kelly, Melissa comes up with a plan. Not just so she can be Charlotte -- but so everyone can know who she is, once and for all.

A Quick & Easy Guide to Queer & Trans Identities, Mady G, Jules Zuckerberg: In this quick and easy guide to queer and trans identities, cartoonists Mady G and Jules Zuckerberg guide you through the basics of the LGBT+ world! Covering essential topics like sexuality, gender identity, coming out, and navigating relationships, this guide explains the spectrum of human experience through informative comics, interviews, worksheets, and imaginative examples. A great starting point for anyone curious about queer and trans life, and helpful for those already on their own journeys!

This Book Is Gay, Juno Dawson: This candid, funny, and uncensored exploration of sexuality and what it's like to grow up LGBTQ also includes real stories from people across the gender and sexual spectrums, not to mention hilarious illustrations.

Little & Lion, Brandy Colbert: When Suzette comes home to Los Angeles from her boarding school in New England, she's isn't sure if she'll ever want to go back. L.A. is where her friends and family are (as well as her crush, Emil). And her stepbrother, Lionel, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, needs her emotional support. But as she settles into her old life, Suzette finds herself falling for someone new...the same girl her brother is in love with. When Lionel's disorder spirals out of control, Suzette is forced to confront her past mistakes and find a way to help her brother before he hurts himself--or worse.

King and the Dragonflies, Kacen Callender: Twelve-year-old Kingston James is sure his brother Khalid has turned into a dragonfly. When Khalid unexpectedly passed away, he shed what was his first skin for another to live down by the bayou in their small Louisiana town. Khalid still visits in dreams, and King must keep these secrets to himself as he watches grief transform his family.

It would be easier if King could talk with his best friend, Sandy Sanders. But just days before he died, Khalid told King to end their friendship, after overhearing a secret about Sandy-that he thinks he might be gay. "You don't want anyone to think you're gay too, do you?"

Sorted: Growing Up, Coming Out, and Finding My Place: A Transgender Memoir, Jackson Bird: An unflinching and endearing memoir from LGBTQ+ advocate Jackson Bird about how he finally sorted things out and came out as a transgender man.When Jackson Bird was twenty-five, he came out as transgender to his friends, family, and anyone in the world with an internet connection. Assigned female at birth and raised as a girl, he often wondered if he should have been born a boy. Jackson didn't share this thought with anyone because he didn't think he could share it with anyone.

The Black Flamingo, Dean Atta: Michael is a mixed-race gay teen growing up in London. All his life, he's navigated what it means to be Greek-Cypriot and Jamaican--but never quite feeling Greek or Black enough.

As he gets older, Michael's coming out is only the start of learning who he is and where he fits in. When he discovers the Drag Society, he finally finds where he belongs--and the Black Flamingo is born

Explore the full list here.

#queer history #queer #lgbt #lgbt history #gay history #lesbian history #transgender history #transgender #making queer history

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roosterforme · 6 months

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How You Play the Game Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is torn between hoping for more nights with you and calling it quits now. But he feels too good when he's around you. When he takes you on a late night date after the game, he's convinced you have the same mixed up feelings he does. But neither of you can seem to explain it.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, and smut (18+)

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

When Bradley left your hotel room at five in the morning, you were still sound asleep. It took every bit of his willpower to carefully extract himself from the warmth of the bed and your body. The room was dark, but he could still see the outline of your profile as you stirred slightly, and he ran his mustache along your cheek.

The sentiments that flooded his brain and almost escaped his lips were startling, and he rolled slowly away from you, his heart beating a little erratically. He needed to get on the road before the Los Angeles rush hour traffic picked up, but he found himself moving without hurry as he located his keys and wallet.

Why was he doing this? He had two more mornings like this, maybe more if he was lucky. But he should have been doing a better job of keeping his feelings in check. He told himself not to do it, but it was like he had no control at this point, so Bradley walked around the bed and kissed your forehead. "See ya, Ace."

He listened to the sports radio show he normally enjoyed on his drive, but he wasn't really absorbing any of it. Your article and insights were better than this. And when he made it to work, he read your game three article on the New York Times app several times when he had breaks and while he ate lunch. It was no wonder every media outlet wanted to have you writing for them. Your style and like no other, and everyone seemed to see that. Bradley wished your boss acknowledged what an asset you are instead of screaming at you for literally nothing.

Ace: You made it to work on time? Miss you.

"Fuck," he gasped, feeling like someone had hit him in the gut as he stood to throw his trash away after lunch. If he believed this was one sided, it wouldn't have been so bad. If he wasn't getting messages like Miss you as soon as he wasn't with you, he would have probably been dealing with this better.

He knew there were sixteen condoms left. He knew you were as keen to take things to bed as he was. Miss you. But that just didn't seem like all there was, and he already knew there wouldn't be enough time to find out for sure.

Yeah, I made it on time. I miss you too. I'll be back up as soon as I get out of work.

This was going to hurt pretty soon. He should be planning to head back to Anaheim tonight to end things with you. But keeping this entanglement going for the duration of the World Series had been his idea to begin with, and the thought of ending up anywhere except with you when he was falling asleep made him feel uncomfortable.

Ace: My room smells like you again. And I can practically still feel your arm wrapped around me.

And now Bradley was looking at tickets for the game even though it started at five. He would miss the first few innings, but at least he'd be able to get his arm around you again.

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Your skin was tingling with anticipation, and no matter what you did, you couldn't distract yourself. Bradley was on his way up from San Diego again. He was fighting through traffic to get to you like you were living in some sort of fairy tale with an expiration date. Like he was the handsome prince and the press box was your tower. You snorted as you sat down with your computer and your stat sheet.

It had barely been half a day since he was tangled up in your hotel room bed with you, keeping you warm and secure with his body pressed to the back of yours. It was so easy to slip into a daydream about him, but just as easily you remembered you'd be leaving for Boston and then probably seven more cities before you made your way back to your apartment in New York for a day off.

You just missed a pitch. Bradley wasn't even here yet and you were having a hard time focusing on the game. Everyone else around you was writing and typing away, but you found yourself missing him too much. Then your phone started to vibrate, and a smile spread across your face.

"Hi Bradley," you whispered when you answered between pitches.

"Ace, Baby." He sounded out of breath as if he was trying to get to you as quickly as he could. Butterflies lifted off in your tummy as he said, "I just bought a ticket from a scalper in the parking lot for a hundred bucks since it's already the fourth inning. But now the security guards are looking at me like I'm highly suspicious."

You had to stifle your laughter as you stood. "Where are you?"

"Almost to the green door. Almost to you."

Without another word, you ended the call and grabbed your lanyard. And when you opened the heavy door and saw him walking so fast he was practically running, your laughter bubbled over.

"Ace," he called out breathlessly. "I had to park so far away." Before you could even respond, he had you in his arms, lifting you off the ground. "Worth it," he murmured as his lips met yours.

You wanted to tell him how much you missed him. You wanted him to know how happy you were that he came all the way back up here to you. He kissed you so well, you wanted to tell him you wouldn't stop thinking about him for a minute. But instead you said, "Let's get you inside before you get kicked out of here."

As he carried you into the press box, you could feel the thudding of his heart beneath your palm. You kissed his cheek a dozen times before he set you down. "You better get to work, Ace. The best articles around aren't going to write themselves."

"I'll have an easier time of it with you here," you told him as he grabbed one of the folding chairs and settled in.

"Really? How so?"

"I'll have someone to fetch me food and tell me I look pretty."

"I mean, you do look pretty. You hungry?" he asked as you tried to decipher how many outs you had missed.

"No," you replied, immediately putting your hand on his thigh to keep him in his seat. You didn't want him going anywhere at the moment.

"Alright," he rasped next to your ear. "I'll just be your cheerleader then. You're doing great, Baby. Keep going. Your article is going to be perfect."

You were smiling as he let his arm settle across your back, and the occasional words of encouragement kept a smile on your face. You laughed when he said something completely ridiculous like, "All the old, fat dudes are so jealous of you," as he gestured to Quincy who was sitting across the aisle glaring at you.

"Maybe he thinks you're pretty," you whispered.

Bradley just scoffed. "Not my type. He doesn't have any blue feathers at all."

And when the Padres scored a run, you could tell he wanted to cheer as he bit his knuckle. "Do you absolutely hate that nobody cheers in the press box?" you asked him with a laugh as you recorded the run.

"I think I'm actually getting used to it now. But I'm annoyed as hell that the Padres are winning. If the Angels can even out the series to 2-2, I'll get to spend more time with you."

You looked at him with what you just knew was a giddy grin. "You're annoyed that your favorite team is winning?" you asked as you ran your fingers along his Padres shirt.

"Yeah. Kind of. I'd rather spend time with you than anything else."

You kissed him softly and then whispered, "Stop being sweet. I'm trying to work here."

"You're not trying very hard."

Then you nipped at his lip before settling back against his arm. You wrote a quick paragraph about the Padres' relief pitcher throwing a temper tantrum while Bradley proofread it for you. And then you started to add your stats into the article during the seventh inning stretch when Bradley went to get you a water bottle. He kissed the back of your neck as he eased himself back down into his folding chair.

"I have an idea," he whispered. "Might be silly."

"What is it?" you murmured as you scrawled down a note for later.

He was quiet for a beat, and when he spoke, he sounded much less self assured than he usually did. "What if we stay here after the game ends and you finish your article early? Then I can take you on a date?"

His fingers had stilled on your back as you processed his words. "I've kind of been tricking myself into thinking all the baseball games and nights back at my hotel were dates," you said softly, unable to look at him. It was really easy to get lonely in your line of work, and if you let yourself dwell on it too long, you started to feel like it would swallow you whole. You couldn't have a pet or even any houseplants, much less a relationship. There was no time leftover for dates or falling in love.

But Bradley was making you feel two very different things at the same time. He made you wish you had time for these feelings that were creeping in. And he also made you certain that you'd never feel them again after you left for Boston, so what was the point? You shouldn't be encouraging this. But then you looked at his face.

"Yes. Those absolutely were dates," he confirmed. "And this is one right now. But we could go the traditional route for a few hours? Mini golf and a diner?"

If you were supposed to say no right now, you weren't sure how to manage it. "Okay."

And then he settled back with a satisfied grin, and his fingers started drawing those delicious shapes on your back once again. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been on an actual date, but you were sure after tonight, this one would be the benchmark.

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"You're a sports writer. Golf is a sport. How are you this bad at it?"

"This is mini golf!" you argued. "It's not real golf! And I'm only doing so poorly because you keep touching me."

Bradley was wrapping his arms around you from behind again, trying to help you line up your shot on the seventh hole, but it was such a lost cause. "Just like that. Don't hit it too hard." As soon as he released you, he could tell it was going to be another awful shot. He watched your neon blue ball soar over to the eighth hole. "You know what? Fine, I'll stop touching you, Ace. You go ahead and show me how good you are," he told you as he went to retrieve your ball for probably the tenth time.

When he carried it back over to you, Bradley grinned at your laughter. The two of you were on a rooftop halfway between Anaheim and Los Angeles, and the night air was just starting to cool things off. After the game ended with an Angels victory, you scooted over to sit on Bradley's lap and he watched you work, offering help as you went. You'd finished your article around 9:30 and submitted it to be published, and then you and he had raced out to his Bronco.

You lined up your shot to try again without Bradley's help, and you hit it too hard again, sending it right back to the eighth hole again. "Okay, fine! I'm bad at mini golf!"

He planted his hands on his hips and turned to get the ball again. "You may as well just let me touch you then, yeah?"

"Yes," you replied, bending to set up your shot one more time. "Just touch me. I like it better when you do."

This time Bradley wrapped your hands around the club and covered them with his. "I like it better, too." He kissed your cheek and helped you check your swing with a long fluid motion, and you both watched the ball roll straight as an arrow until it sank into the cup.

"Hole in one!" you said, jumping up and down and thrusting your club up in the air. "I got a hole in one!"

"It was at least half me," Bradley grumbled as he set his red ball down and sank another one. "See? I'm the hole in one master."

"Sure, Bradley," you said sweetly, and he spent a minute kissing the smirk off your face before someone in the group behind you started to clear their throat.

"We're holding people up," he murmured, and then you tucked your fingers into his jeans pocket and led him to collect both balls.

"Help me get another hole in one, and I'll let you get lucky later," you told him as he dipped down to grab the golf balls. You laughed when he promptly dropped both of them and had to recollect them.

Bradley chased you to the next hole and wrapped his arms around you again, chanting, "Come on, come on, I wanna get lucky." When the shot narrowly missed going into the hole, Bradley kissed your neck and whispered, "It's okay. I'm already getting lucky."

By the last hole, you and he had managed to get three more hole in one shots, and you had your arms around his neck and your lips on his. The city skyline was lit up in the background, and the sounds of traffic even this late were permeating the air around you. But Bradley was absorbed in your body pressed to his and your hips beneath his hands.

"I had fun," you said between heated kisses. "You're going to get so lucky."

Bradley laughed as his hands moved to your ass, and he pushed the apprehension from his mind. Why couldn't he find a girl like this in San Diego? Why couldn't you live in San Diego? You were perfect.

"Didn't you mention a diner that's open all night?" you whispered.

"Let's go."

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"Apparently it's built out of an old train car," Bradley was saying about the diner as he laced his fingers with yours on the drive there. "Supposed to be good."

You didn't care where he was taking you, because you were having the best night you could remember having in so long. You almost forgot you were on assignment. It was hard for you to acknowledge that you were lonely, but now that you had, you weren't sure how to make it better. Everything was temporary. But that didn't dispute the fact that you and Bradley were in the middle of something, and that this was not anything you normally did. You never, ever told anyone else that your favorite team is the Blue Jays. You never allowed anyone to look at your articles before they were published, let alone help you add notes and proofread them. And that wasn't even touching on the physical aspect of things.

"I think that's it," he said, removing his hand from yours to make the turn into the parking lot. You missed his warmth immediately, but your phone was ringing in your pocket anyway.

Bradley glanced at you as you looked at the screen. "It's Greg. My boss. Should be quick," you assured him. When you answered, you didn't have to say more than his name before he started unloading.

"If this thing goes to seven games, we are likely to lose the exclusives in Boston!" he ranted loudly. "I want you on a flight as soon as you can get out of California."

"Understood, Greg," you said, giving Bradley an apologetic look. But his eyes were wide, and the look he was giving you had your insides in knots. He didn't like when Greg yelled. But he just kept on going.

"I'm just trying to head off a disaster, because if one of these fully online platforms snatches up our exclusive, it will be a fucking nightmare! I'm weighing my options here. I may send Winston out to replace you for the remainder of the World Series so you can start heading east sooner."

"No!" you replied quickly before he could expand on that idea. You were looking at Bradley, heart pounding as you asked Greg, "Aren't my articles doing well? You know my baseball related content always does well."

"Your articles are doing great! They always do great! That's why I need you in fucking Boston!"

You pressed your lips together as Bradley let his hand rest on your knee. "Do not send Winston. I'll see this to the end and then head out."

"First flight you can get! And you better hope this only goes six games, because after Boston, you're going international for a few weeks."

Your stomach lurched as he ended the call. "Why does he have to scream at you?" Bradley asked, looking distraught. He was reaching for you and pulling you onto his lap. "Your work is immaculate."

For a split second, you could picture all of the recruitment emails in your inbox. More piled in every day. "It's just how he works. He's this way with everyone."

"I don't like it at all," he whispered as you came to rest on his lap in his vintage Bronco. Bradley made you feel warm and safe. His mustache brushed along your cheek as he added, "If he thinks you're the best person on his roster to go to Boston for another exclusive and then out of the country, then he should be treating you with respect."

"You heard what he said?" you asked, suddenly clinging to his shirt like he was about to be taken away from you.

"Yeah, Ace. He was screaming at you, Baby. I could hear the whole thing."

You wanted to just curl up right here and go to sleep for the night in this dark parking lot with Bradley's body heat and the steady rhythm of his heart against your palm. Because as soon as he left you at your hotel in a few hours and went back to San Diego so he could go to work tomorrow, you knew you'd miss him terribly.

You forced yourself to say, "I'm hungry." You needed to get out of his car and away from his embrace before you started to cry.

"I'm starving," he said with a soft laugh as he popped his door open and let you climb down. As you and he headed across the parking lot, he reached for your hand and said, "Just know that I think you're better than having to deal with a boss who yells like an asshole for no reason."

You swallowed hard as the two of you were led to a cute booth inside the retro diner. Somehow you just knew this place suited Bradley, and now this aesthetic was going to remind you of him forever. When you slid down into the booth, he went to release your hand, presumably to sit across from you. But you shook your head and pulled him in next to you instead.

When the two of you were left alone with some menus, he wrapped his arm around you. "I always thought people who sat next to each other in a booth looked like idiots," you told him with a grin. "But for some reason I just wanted you over here."

He didn't respond verbally, he just kissed your forehead. And then you listened to him ask the waitress which menu items were the best, and he ordered them all. "I'm hungry. You're hungry. We'll try everything," he whispered.

And then you just settled in. He didn't pull his arm away from you as you told him all about your favorite writing assignments in your surprisingly illustrious career for how young you are. And you learned more about him, too. He waited until a plethora of food was delivered to the table around midnight to carefully slip his arm away from you.

"I really like this," you said softly, unsure if he heard you at first. You were only a little embarrassed by the way your voice shook.

"Me too, Ace."

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It was one in the morning. Bradley's belly was filled with one of the most delicious meals he'd ever had as he walked you back to your hotel room with his arm draped across your shoulders. When you got to your door, he watched you open up your bag to locate your room key, and his eyes caught on something blue.

"Did you steal the golf ball?" he asked softly, and you looked up at him right away. "Gonna use it to practice in your hotel room?"

But your eyes weren't teasing as you shook your head slightly. "It's my souvenir. From this trip. Something I can take back to New York."

And now Bradley wasn't teasing either. "I wish you could take me back."

You pressed your lips together, and your eyes fluttered close. "Don't, okay? Please."

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "Okay."

Without another word, you unlocked the door and walked over to the desk chair and set your bag down. Bradley let the door close behind him as you turned on the lamp. Your skin looked pretty in the soft, orange light as you started to unbutton your blouse. His lips parted as you bared yourself to him, letting your top fall to the floor along with your bra.

He started to stir as he took a step in your direction. You were feeling the same way he was. You didn't want this to end either. You had that golf ball, and Bradley already had his ticket from game one taped up on his mirror. When you met his eyes, he found himself ready to bare his feelings to you.

"Let's fuck," you announced, your fingers on the fly of your jeans. "You wanna?"

He didn't know what to say as he watched you shimmy out of your pants and approach him in just your underwear. "Ace."

You took him by the hand and started to lead him to bed. Then you were yanking his shirt off and working on his pants, but you didn't meet his eyes. And your usual smile was missing. "Let's do this."

"Ace," he repeated, a little softer this time as he gently wrapped his hands around your wrists and stilled your movements. "I don't want to just fuck. I want to do what we've been doing."

You finally met his eyes. "That is what we've been doing. Just fucking."

"No," Bradley replied, pulling your hands away from his body. "That's not it. There's... more."

He watched you cross your arms over your chest, and your voice broke when you said, "No, Bradley, there's not more. Because there can't be more."

You turned your back to him. He waited a beat and then ran his right hand up your arm to your shoulder. When you shivered for him, he whispered, "You react to me. And I react to you. I miss you when I'm at work. I think about you all day long. Maybe you won't acknowledge it out loud, but please, don't say it's just fucking."

You spun around and buried your face against his neck and chest, and he held you tight. "It's not just fucking," you agreed, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry I said that."

Bradley kissed the top of your head. "You're not the only one who wishes things could be different." He coaxed your chin up with his fingers so you were looking at him. "You're not the only one, Ace."

And then you kissed him, and this time when you tugged Bradley closer to the bed, he went with you. Even if you wouldn't say anything else to him, you were showing him with everything you did. Your hands were soft on his face, and your fingers wound slowly through his hair. Your lips were on his cheeks and his ears and his forehead. And Bradley knew he only had a few more of these perfect minutes with you, but he didn't want the desperation to cloud the sweetness. Not tonight.

"Come here, Baby," he murmured, his hands on your hips as you leaned back against the pillows. But you pulled him closer for more sweet kisses, his hands returning to your face.

"No, you come here," you coaxed, and that pretty smile that he missed was back on your face now.

"Here I am," he replied with a grin as you wrapped your leg around his and tried to push his jeans down with your foot. When you giggled he peppered kisses all over your face. "You want a hand with that?" he asked as you continued to struggle with his pants.

"No, I got it," you whispered, reaching down to push them down, and then he pulled them all the way off. Your hands trailed back up along his body, and now Bradley was the one shivering. "I got it," you repeated, looking up at him.

You stole the golf ball. And you let Bradley help with your articles. And he knew your secrets. His thumb trailed along your cheek, and he couldn't stop grinning. "I'm going to call in sick tomorrow."

"Bradley," you whined as his thumb trailed along your neck. "You said the planes wouldn't fly themselves."

He shrugged and kissed your skin where his thumb had been. "I'll let somebody else worry about it tomorrow. I'd rather spend the day with you. If you'll let me."

"Yes," you agreed immediately. "Stay with me."

He sighed against your skin. That's all he wanted to hear right now. "I will. Do you want me to get one of the sixteen condoms, Baby?" he asked softly.

You just moaned his name and ran your fingers along his abs, and eventually Bradley extracted himself from your hands and went to dig around in your suitcase just like last night. When he stepped out of his underwear, he watched you pull yours off as well. Then you sat up and looked at him, the soft light catching on your features as you curled your legs to the side. And it was so much more than just fucking. And maybe part of Bradley wished it wasn't, because it was going to be too hard to face later.

But when you smiled at him, he crawled across the bed and into your arms. And it was a long time before he put the condom on, focusing on his lips on your body and your words in his ears. Then he went slowly, rocking into you at a tempo he hoped conveyed just how fucking much he cared for you.

Your back was arched, chest pressed to him as he held your hands over your head. You laced your fingers with his, squeezing them as you repeated his name over and over. Bradley's body covered yours as he moved in time with you, and he watched you come undone as you came for him.

"It's so much more, Ace," he rasped, his voice broken as you squeezed him. You nodded as you whined his name louder, and Bradley came, too.

Neither of you moved for a long time as he let his cheek rest on your shoulder while you played with his hair. Not many words were exchanged, but the two of you barely went more than a minute without touching each other in some way. When you returned from the bathroom in his Padres jersey, Bradley wrapped you up in his arms, and you let him.

"You're really staying?" you asked quietly.

He kissed you as you settled in bed next to him. "Yeah, I'm staying. I'm yours all day tomorrow."

"Good."

Neither of you set an alarm, and neither of you said anything else. But once again, Bradley fell into the most comfortable sleep with his arms around you and his lips on the back of your neck.

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

I don't want them to hurt. I want them to have fun together while they can. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

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@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

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ash-says · 29 days

Text

Things to be aware of as a Hopeless Romantic:

We all have been there daydreaming about the perfect man, the perfect life, the perfect whatever,etc. Still life is not full of roses and thorns are inevitable.

So here are some aspects to look out for according to me so that you won't fall in the delulu is the only solulu trap.

Remember if you follow me, we don't do regrets here. We accept, take accountability and move on. We don't soak ourselves in problems. We solve them effectively.

1) Drop those rose-colored glasses. Crush them under your feet and now look at the world again. Learn to accept reality. It is what it is. Not what you make it out to be. Learn to become an observer of your life from time to time. It will give you the real picture.

2) Potential is useless if you are not leveraging it. It's a trap both for yourself and others. You see potential in him of changing and being a good guy?? Girl, he *IS* not a good guy. It's not your job to raise a man. It's embarrassing. Stop babysitting grown men.

3) Standards are important but ensure they are not rooted in fantasy. Let's be honest finding a man who is rich, dark, tall, sexy and talks in the way you read in your romance novels is difficult. I am not saying it's impossible but don't be too rigid. All I will say is make sure you are also on the level where if you come across such a man he should be ready to date you.

4) Men view sex differently than us women. I know many of you will get triggered after reading this but the majority of men really view women as sex dolls. Blame the porn industry maybe. Good men exist but not every other man who talks sweetly is good.

5) A person in your life treats you nicely. Always talk sweetly, tells you that you matter to them but their actions don't match it. Chances are you are being breadcrumbed. Plans being cancelled? Messages being unseen? But when confronted all you get is,"Sorry love, I was busy. I was going to do it. You matter a lot,etc etc." Breadcrumbing. Be smart it can happen even in friendships too. I understand people get busier with time and things do happen. Use your discernment to see who really is busy and who is faking to be busy.

6) That uncle was so kind to me. He talked to me sweetly and always tried to help me out. Now, that's really sweet of him. Next he calls you home to help out with the household chores and he is alone at home because his wife is out of town for some work. Would you go and help? Yes. Will you go alone? No. That's unsafe.

No matter how much a gentleman a man appears to be you are not allowed to be in a situation where he could potentially take advantage of you. You always bring along a friend or deny it. I know it's wrong to not help someone but at your own risk. No. Never. It's common knowledge in our society.

7) Dreaming of a Prince Charming to whisk you away from all your troubles??? Dream on. The idea that a soulmate or one person will magically solve all our issues is dumb. We as human beings add to each other's happiness rather than becoming the core of it.

8) One of the biggest mistakes I have seen girls around me make is of being fully invested in a relationship to the point one small fight makes them depressed. That's codependency. It's unhealthy.

9) Never make your relationship your identity. You should always have a separate identity out of it. Stop curating yourself for your partners. Morphing yourself according to their likes and dislikes. That's one way ticket to an identity crisis after breakup. Compromises are essential but changing your core self??? Crazy shit.

10) Your relationship should not be the reason for your downfall. It happens especially with my intense girlies we invest so much of ourselves in the relationship to the point it becomes our focal point and when it faces upheavals we are devastated. The mental distress starts flowing in other areas of your life and suddenly your grades are falling, your career seems unstable, etc. Develop the emotional strength to compartmentalize your emotions and not allow them to overflow in other areas and affect them.

Imagination is fertile but being delusional is being stuck in a swamp.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

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koiir · 8 months

Text

⸻ So I’m up, daydremin! ⸻

When they’re smitten for you

Characters; Lyney x scaramouche, xiao, gn!reader

Genre; tooth rooting fluff | not proofread

A/n; in honor of Ari performing daydremin bc I love that song sm and she sounds so??? Also I think lyney is like…becoming a new fav of mine…

Lyney

“Are you ever going to wipe that pout of your face Lyney?” A paper is thrown at him as Lynnette catches his attention. She’s been trying to get his attention for who knows how long, but Lyney has been stuck looking at you.

He watches the way you hug your friend from behind as your smile is evident, acting as if he just didn’t spend time with you and gave you a rainbow rose. You hold the rose as you chat away, Lyney wishing he could be the one you’re hugging.

He feels envious of all your friends who have the pleasure of being able to feel you against them, even if it’s just a simple hug. Lynne wishes to feel the warmth from you, just like the warmth that he feels whenever he sees your smile. His face only watches you in awe seeing the way you hold the rose gently, your face now avoiding your friends as they ask about the rose he gave you.

He feels his pout morph into a lovesick grin, a “tsk” is heard from across the table as Lynnette sips on her tea. She knows her brother is stuck daydreaming in his delusions, it’s evident with how he sighs out as he places his face into his chin.

“You seriously have to do something…” Lynnette says to her brother, knowing that this cycle will continue if something isn’t done.

The two then heard the footsteps coming their way, it surprisingly being you walking over. Lyney whole composure has now shifted into a new one, his nerves getting the best of him as he try’s to calm down.

“And, you’re chance is here.” His sister says, almost unfazed at how he is acting. But Lynnette is use to it, and now she hopes he can finally solve this madness.

Scaramouche

“…here, just read it.” Scaramouche hands you to written paper, handwriting perfect as you trace it with your hand. He watches you start to read, as you stares while he stomach as you lay onto him.

Scaramouche continued to keep an eye on you as you skimmed over the paper, his eyes never once breaking eye contact. Yet whenever you noticed, he would be quick to move his eyes somewhere else, as if he gaze wasn’t locked onto yours.

“just keep on reading.” He tells you, trying to hide his act so you don’t call him out. He’s glad you aren’t, because his flushed face is enough as you make small comments about his writing. Complementing him.

He would usually make a comment back, but he doesn’t find himself doing that. Scaramouche can only wish for the peace to continue as he feels the warmth of your body on his, his state of mind being the least of his worries as he knows he only has to be by your side to feel complete.

Xiao

He can’t not stare, maybe it’s because of the crowd and how xiao feels like he might lose you. Buts it’s a concert, he knows you won’t leave him since you couldn’t handle the idea of going to a concert alone.

Even when you asked him he knew he would go, yet xiao just wanted to get a reaction out of it you if he told you “no.” A pout of disappointment formed on your face as you begged him, leading him to say yes.

Now he watches you as you record on your phone, the songs playing being some that he has heard before. All thanks to you.

Xiao usually wasn’t fond of this, the huge crowd that was stuck together for who knows how long wasn’t something he wanted to endure. But he sees the way your face is filled with joy, an expression that hasn’t left your face ever since you had the tickets, or whenever you mentioned the concert was coming up.

He hears your gasp as the song you’ve been waiting for starts to play, you turn to him as he pulls you closer. The two of you now making eye contact, the instrumental of the song being heard as it plays it.

Your smile is wide as you stare at him in awe, maybe it’s all of the emotions running through you as the song is playing. But xiao beats you sing he finds himself speaking.

“I love you.” He tells you, your expression now one of surprise. You hadn’t expected that, since xiao was usually quiet on his affection. He holds you closer, making you feel the comfort xiao gives you.

“And I love you too…” your voice trails off as you hear the singing, you lock eyes once more with him before giving him a soft peck—leaving him speechless as red spreads throughout his cheeks. Xiao sees you turn your gaze back onto the stage as you lean into him more, his heart bumping even more with the act of affection from you.

Xiao feels his hands become clammy, but he still holds yours with his—giving it a squeeze. He finds himself wanting more, more of your love. but for now he has to wait, your presence being enough for xiao as he can witness your joy in the moment.

A/n; help i finally wrote something…and I wrote for Lyney….

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact lyney #genshin xiao #genshin scaramouche #lyney x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #lyney fluff #genshin lyney #lyney x you #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #xiao fluff #xiao x you #genshin impact x reader #koiir writes

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courtingchaos · 8 months

Note

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem Reader #My Work #My Fic #asks!#THIS BITCH IS 6K????? since fuckin when 😩

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fortunekookie07 · 14 days

Text

Mc disappears on a mission/snowcrest (Days, weeks, author's choice) I want pain, anguish But a happy ending, with a reunion (the only requirement, life is sad enough 😭)

This is the prompt requested, and I got this idea.

Looking for my Heart

The mission seems simple enough, you thought as you read through the file that Jenna had sent. After you had gone to Snowcrest last year with Zayne and temporarily teamed up with the Deepspace Hunters stationed there she had decided to add more diversity to the training. This included rounds in Snowcrest.

This time it was your turn, you were excited to see Dr. Noah and Pie again. It had been almost six months since your last trip. Getting out of Linkon for the first time in awhile was just the refreshing change you wanted.

Zayne had agreed to take you to the train station so you could meet up with your temporary team, but for some reason he was late. This was highly unusual, Zayne was almost never late. He prided himself on his perfect manners.

You decide to take your luggage downstairs anyways. Surely Zayne was on the way or maybe even pulling up to the complex now. Upon seeing the quiet parking lot devoid of his car a pout forms on your lips. You grab your phone and scroll through the texts you'd exchanged and check to make sure you'd told him the correct time and date. There it was, Wednesday morning 9:30, along with his affirmation and yet no Zayne. You decide that this is not ok and immediately tap the phone icon to call him.

Straight to voice-mail, a frown furrows your eyebrows and your lips purse out in frustration. You call again, once more, twice more. You almost lose count at the number of straight to voice mail calls you send. So you type him a text in anger.

I know you don't want me to go to Snowcrest but this is my job after all. If you didn't want to take me you shouldn't have agreed in the first place. Trying to make me miss the train is really petty. You hit send without a second thought and immediately call for a taxi. Minutes later one is pulling into the parking lot and finally you are off.

After getting to the station and finally securing your tickets and luggage your phone rings. Zayne's name and picture flash across the screen. In anger you shut your phone off and stuff it deep into your bag.

You walk down a few cars before finding a seat. Across from you is a family. A little girl is giggling as her father is making funny faces and the mother is quietly laughing as well. A smile crosses your face and then unwanted thoughts pop into your head.

For a moment you see yourself and Zayne in that exact situation. Though he'd probably never actually admit it, Zayne would do anything you asked no matter how silly. To him you'd hung the moon and scattered the stars. A small smile came to your face and you violently shook your head back in forth, uncaring that your hair whipped your cheeks as you did so.

"No I'm angry, we're mad at Zayne. Be mad at Zayne"! You chant softly to yourself before slapping both cheeks. Having successfully for the moment chased away the daydream you sit back in your seat as the train begins to move and look out at the scenery flashing by. Slowly changing from city to mountains.

Two hours later the heaters in the cars came on as the temperature outside had dropped. It was snowing lightly according to the weather report. Your about to get your jacket on when an alert sound on your Hunter's Watch. You look down and see that a there is a Metaflux warning on the screen and the scanner is red.

Immediately your heart starts hammering in your chest as a cold sweat rolls down your back. This is exactly the readings you saw on your first day Hunting.

"Look out"! You scream just before everything goes white and you hear a high pitched screech and then nothing.

**********************************************************

She was standing off to the side holding Dr. Zayne's phone. Finally it was her turn to watch for important calls or messages and inform him of them. Finally she would be able to get closer to him. Oh how she had dreamed of this day! Luck was finally dealing her the winning hand.

At least that was the cloud nine Mia was currently occupying until the phone actually started soflt vibrating. A quick glance at the screen sent her stomach straight to the pits of ultimate fury. How did this stupid girl have Zayne's number? She was always around him. It made her blood absolutely boil staring down at her stupid smiling face and name on the screen. "Humph"! She scoffed sending the call straight to voicemail. Oh how it delighted her to reject that snake's call.

Well that was until the phone started vibrating again almost immediately. She's calling again?!?! Mia thought wanting to throw the device into and inferno.

I've been in his department for two years and she already has his number?? How dare she deceive my Zayne! She sent the call to voice-mail again. This went on several more times and she was almost giddy at having rejected the call five times. A wide smile made its way onto her face as a text message popped in then. Zayne would never allow anyone to talk to him like that. She was riding this wave for the next hour before finally the surgery was done.

Mia quickly deleted the records of the call and then looked up as Dr. Zayne set down his instruments and gave his final orders. He was handing the last of the surgery duties over to his team. They quickly got to work stitching the patient back up. Dr. Zayne walked over to her and her heart skipped a beat as she watched another nurse help remove his scrubs and gear before finally standing in front of her.

He looks so tired, she thought silently handing over his phone. He accepted it and a deep frown immediately hung over his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Damn, I'm late". He said quietly.

"Is something wrong Dr. Zayne". Mia asked gazing at his face. Mock concern on it. Zayne only looked at her before leaving the room. Mia was confused, while it was true they didn't have much contact, he'd never outright ignored her before. She shrugged it off as tiredness. It had been a six hour surgery after all.

Mia left the surgical wing and went back to the nurses station to write down the report she knew would be expected by the end of the day. However forty-five minutes later she was being summoned to Zayne's office. He had directly written an email and sent it to her. This had never happened before. Mia had attended dozens of surgeries with Zayne before, but never had an email come to her straight from him.

She was so elated that she didn't even notice the looks she was getting as she practically skipped to his office. Word of her misdeeds had traveled around the entire cardiac ward and then some, but Mia hadn't noticed. Too busy floating in the clouds to see the disapproving stares and mock sympathy she was getting.

She stopped only once at the last bathroom before turning to his office to check her hair and makeup. She quickly undid the ponytail her hair had been thrown in before and finger combed the strands before relying it neatly. Adjusting her bangs to fall just right across her forehead and removing all traces of smudged eyeliner. Perfect! She thought glancing once more before leaving.

Standing in front of his office door she cleared her throat and raised her hand to knock, but another hand beat her to it. She turned a withering look on her face but nearly recoiled in shock. Standing to her right was the president of the hospital along with his secretary and another Doctor she couldn't remember the name of.

"Come in". Zayne's deep voice sounded from the other side. The president quickly pushed the door open and strode inside. His secretary looked at her. A woman in her mid thirties with square framed glasses a high ponytail with side swept bangs and piercing golden eyes. She looked like an eagle that had just found her next pray. Mia suddenly felt small, all her early excitement and high dwindling rapidly to nothing.

She walked into the room like a timid mouse searching for the cat she just knew was watching her. "Y-you wanted to see me Dr. Zayne"? His green and gold eyes looked at her. Expression flat, devoid of all emotion and even life. Her body started to trembled as she played with the hem of her uniform shirt.

"Did I receive any calls earlier this morning"? He asked her out right not beating around the bush. "N-no sir, your phone did not ring". She was sweating nervously. Why was she being asked this in front of the president. She wanted the floor to swallow her.

"Is that so". He said and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees with that single sentance. He wordlessly turned his computer monitor around to show what he was looking at and Mia felt her stomach sink to the floor as she stared at a frozen image of herself holding Zayne's phone. It was clear as day.

"Are you unaware that in addition to their being an observation deck above my operating room there are also cameras all over the place? Are you sure this is the route you wish to take"? He asked as her pressed play on the video. You could clearly see her holding the phone and looking down at the screen when the device lit up. The name couldn't be read from the distance but the picture of you was unmistakable.

Mia lost all composure as she ditched her cover. "Why does she get to have your number and hang around you all the time like some cheap skank? It makes me sick the way she's always coming to the hospital like she owns the place. She doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you. She doesn't deserve to breathe at all"! Mia shouted chest heaving from her words and anger. "Who does she even think she is? She's isn't good enough for you"! She went on. There was no coming back from this, Mia had tossed all caution to the wind and she was going down with her sinking ship.

"Are you so self absorbed that you don't even know who my patients are"? Zayne asked, his voice was cold enough to give Mia frostbite as she practically froze. Horror dawning on her as realization started to sink in. "Not that it is any of your business in the first place. She has an extremely rare heart condition and requires weekly checkups to make sure no changes occur. She has my number because I gave it to her....".

Just then the door burst open and several people came in panicked. "Dr. Zayne you need to see this now"! The male shouted grabbing the remote and turning the TV on to the news in a flurry.

"..Minutes ago on the mountain there was an explosion believed to have been cause by metaflux, at the time the train bound for Snowcrest was at the heart of it. As of yet we are unable to get reports of the accident. As you can see drones are trying to get closer bit having no visual luck. The smoke has completely enveloped the accident. We are able to confirm that the train was blasted off the tracks as you can see here". The reported said as a still image filled the screen.

You could clearly see where the tracks ended brokenly and the huge gouge that had been taken as well as the black smoke. All eyes in the room turned to Zayne who had stood abruptly from his chair with such force that it had been knocked over. He scrambled for his phone furiously before tapping and immediately calling someone. The phone went straight to voicemail. Over and over again to no avail, finally he dropped the phone and hung his head brokenly.

He looked up sharply and sent her a withering glare, "The president will deal with you. I need to go". He said directing the last part to the president.

No one said a word as Dr. Zayne left the hospital and drove straight to the train station. He tried calling Dr. Noah, but to no avail. Emergency lines overruled all other communication.

Zayne felt like all his sanity was about to slip away, you were missing and you took his heart with you when you vanished.

*******************************************************

That had been eight days ago, every news outlet was following the story as the very world held its breath. Four rescue attempts had been made with no results. The explosion had stired up all the Wanderers and the area was thick with danger. Rescue workers couldn't fend off the Wanderers and there just weren't enough Deepspace Hunters that could destroy them, protect the rescuers, and look for survivors. All hope seemed to be lost.

As morning dawned on the ninth day something changed, the areas that had previously been inaccessible were suddenly clear. The Wanderer sightings in the first zones had dropped to zero. Even the metaflux readings were bottoming out. Like the forests surrounding the area was reclaiming itself.

Zayne finally ditched the watch the Association had put on him and headed into the wilderness. You the only thing on his mind. He was coming for you no matter what.

*******************************************************

Pain, that was the most prominent feeling you had first as you tried to open your eyes and move. They didn't want to cooperate. Something shuffled near you and then you realized something was holding your hand. At first you were afraid, unable to open your eyes and unable to move. Panic started to set in and with it dizziness. Even though you were already lying down the ground beneath you was spinning. Like a merry-go-round turned on to fast.

Then there was a quiet shushing. "It's alright, please calm down. Your injuries are serious and we have no way to treat them. We barely managed to stop the bleeding. Your eyes have been covered because there were deep cuts on your forehead. In addition your right leg and arm are badly broken. I don't know the extent of all your injuries so please don't move. If it hadn't been for your warning no one but you would have survived. My wife and daughter are alive thanks to you. Please let us help you". A male voice said softly near your ear. A hand brushed your hair back and then there was gentle pressure on your left hand.

A smaller hand had gripped it holding softly. "We managed to put up some shelter, it's been snowing non stop since the accident and the area is not safe. Your watch alerts us to dangers so we're staying hidden. You're a Hunter aren't you"? Those time a female voice was speaking softly. Memories slowly came back, you remembered the family you saw on the train and tears came to your eyes. That family had survived and not only that, protected you at your most vulnerable moments.

With all the strength you had left to muster you squeezed the small hand still holding yours before passing out again. Thankfully in unconsciousness there was no pain and there was also Zayne.

How you missed his cool demeanor and often icy personality. You missed staring into his deep hazel eyes and getting lost in them. You missed him holding you and waking up to him. In your dreams Zayne had already found you and was gently tending all your injuries while hiding how much it pained him to see you in this state.

The next time you woke up all was quiet around you. Carefully you pulled the layers of cloth off your eyes and peered into the dim light. It stung a bit after so much darkness. Huddled around you was a man, woman, and small child. They looked worse for the wear and tou noted cuts, burns, scrapes, and the like on them. Seems they had been extraordinarily lucky to escape with such minor injuries. You took note of the extent of your own injuries for the first time. Breathing hurt if you sucked in air too deeply, seems you can add ribs to the list of broken. Not to mention the burning paid in your side. That was heavily bound with cloth. That must be the bleeding that was hard to stop.

You tried to lift your head but that just sent oy straight back to the world of dreams. All your energy spent on just moving cloth from your eyes and feeling out wounds.

*******************************************************

Zayne was still unsure of the man walking beside him. He sort of knew about your upstairs neighbor and frequent Hunting partner but had never actually met Xavier before. He was quiet hardly speaking and seemed to be emotionless. Taking down every Wanderer that approached.

He hardly even needed Zayne's help, in fact he was pretty sure the man required zero help at all. It was quite a surprise when Xavier had agreed to Zayne's coming along in the first place. He knew there was more that Xavier knew than he would ever let slip. This guy held more secrets than a diary.

When Zayne had told him he was going to find you with ir without his help Xavier relented and off you were. Easily slipping past barriers and blockads headed for the accident zone.

Suddenly Xavier stopped his sled dogs and walked through the trees. In front the train tracks appeared and so did the spot where a huge hole was. Spanning at least thirty feet wide and probably ten feet deep at its center, it was no surprise the train had been blasted off the tracks. One of the cars lay on its top. Windows busted and scorch marks all over the metal. The fire on this one had burned a long time. The smell of burnt wooden, metal, and coal still lingered in the air. The bursting of snow looked odd on the scene. Any tracks that may have been on the snow were long since gone. Dusted over with more snow.

"Not here". Xavier said quietly leading away from the car and walking further away from the train into the woods. The air was dead silent, no animals had been seen in days. Having run away, or too terrified to come out of hiding.

Zayne felt his heart freezing over with the bitter cold. He would not admit the chances of your survival of the explosion until the evidence was thrust right before his eyes.

The hospital had forced him into a personal leave two days after the explosion. He was walking around in a daze, because quite literally his heart was missing. He got angry everytime he thought about what one of the nurses had done. Rejecting your calls like that several times. Her job was terminated that day. The president would not have such a malicious person on staff at Akso hospital. If word got out that patients were treated like that because a nurse thought she was entitled to whatever she wanted their stellar reputation would plummet.

A crunching noise started coming from a few feet in front of them. Xavier dashed forward towards thr sound.

In a makeshift clearing a man was walking their way. He looked beat up and tired as he froze at the sight of them before smiling in joy. It looked like he had been crying.

"Oh thank god"! He cried coming to them in relief. "We need help, the young woman that is with us is hurt real bad. I don't know if she's going to make it. I can't treat her injuries. Zayne felt his blood freeze as a sickening feeling came over him. "Show us". He said and the man immediately turned are hurried back the way he'd come. For the first time Zayne realized there was a tent strung from blankets and branches.

The man pushed the heavy blanket aside and went in. Zayne paused for a moment before he and Xavier followed. As soon as Zayne got a look at who was lying on the ground it felt like his soul left him.

There you were, his heart so battered and hurt he could barely breathe. For the first time Zayne wished he didn't have any medical training ir knowledge. He could easily see every injury and the signs of the ones the untrained eye could not.

A fever had set in and you were shivering despite the blankets on you and the two people huddled near you trying to keep you warm.

"Move aside", Zayne said with a calm he didn't feel. He took his backpack off and immediately searched for the pain medication and bandages. He gave you a shot to dull the pain your broken bones would definitely be giving you. He removed the cloth wrapped around your stomach and examined the injury. He could tell they had tried their best to care for you but lacking any supplies at all it had been a struggle. Signs of infection were already setting in. The jagged cut to your side was deep and would require antibiotics and stitching. Neither of which he had now. He just tried his best to clean the wounds with the basic supplies he had and moves on.

At some point during his treatment, you woke up. Eyes hazy and unfocused. "Zayne can't you find me already"? The fever had made you delirious. "Hurry and come find me Zayne. I can't hold out much longer". He stoked your head and mumbled. I'm looking for you, I'll find you soon. "M'kay". You say before slipping back into a feverish sleep. "We need to get her out of here now". Zayne says to Xavier carefully turning you onto your back and the carefully picking you up.

Your face scrunches in pain and whimpers escape your lips but you do not wake. The pain meds are doing their job, for the most part.

*******************************************************

After what seems like a year later you're waking up. You tense as you realize that you no longer have anyone around you. The little girl is gone and so are the mom and dad.

It takes you almost three minutes to notice that you are lying in a bed now and not on a covered ground with several blankets. Only when you realize that do you also hear the sounds of machines. You blearily open your eyes and see the white walls and the large curtained window on your left.

Zayne is also there, asleep in a chair that just screams uncomfortable. There is a chart in his lap and you realize it's yours. You are glad that you can't read what is written from your angle. You try to turn onto your side and one of the machines starts beeping angrily at you.

Zayne snaps awake instantly and reaches over to press a button. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. He must be exhausted. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a whisper. Your mouth is so dry.

Your voice is only a whisper. Instead you try to move your hand. This manages to catch his attention. He is immediately checking you over. Doctor mode has been activated.

"Are you in pain? How is your head"? He fires off questions rapidly. Unable to answer them you point to the water on the table. His gaze follows your finger and he grabs the glass holding the straw for you to sip. "Slowly, not too fast". He gently chides.

"Zayne, you found me". You say not answering any of the questions. "Of course I did". He says matter of factly sitting down and staring at you again. "I know you are too resilient to go down without a fight. You're tougher than that".

You smile softly gazing at him. "I need my heart". He gently takes your hand staring at the ring on your finger. He won't say it but you have certainly put his heart through a beating.

"When can I leave the hospital". You ask and he just sighs. "You're just going to have to stay put for awhile. You're in for a long recovery. The extent of your injuries were no small matter.

"Dr. Zayne I'd like you to return my finacee to me now". You say in a joking manner squeezing his hand.

A long sigh is drawn out from him before he says "just what am I going to do with you"? He leans over and kisses your forehead, both eyelids and then finally your lips.

"I hope you know a person can't live without their heart. Don't make mine disappear again. " You smile, feeling warm with his words.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne x reader #halseyhatter #fic prompt #love and deepspace

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celenawrites · 3 months

Text

₊˚ෆ soulmate au, wherein you get to see the world through your soulmate's eyes and experience what they're feeling at that moment

awful editing(no beta), a lot of pov shifts, loads of grammar mistakes, description of violence, smut below the cut.

just an idea i have been marinating in my drafts this month.

MDNI.

the first time Simon Riley realizes he has a soulmate, he's 24 and well on his way to becoming a lieutenant. it's an early winter morning, filled with white fog and chilly breeze that seeps through the balaclava he wears while off duty. he's in the cold, congested room that has been assigned as his office and he's trying to catch up on the stack of paperwork that had accumulated while he was risking his lives on the front-line just to feel something.

the scene shifts with a few gradual blinks and he realizes he's not in his office anymore.

he's she's standing in the kitchen, brewing up a cup of tea while humming an old melody. he's awfully out of place here, and he almost thinks his mind is tricking him with a sudden daydream and then she pours out the tea into a green mug, and exits the kitchen - finally sitting down in what he assumes to be a living room.

she turns on the tv to watch some melodrama he doesn't know, as she carefully blows onto the mug to cool down the steaming liquid before carefully taking a sip. he feels the green tea trickle down his throat, warming him from inside. he can feel the cushion behind her back and the glasses that rest on the bridge of her nose. he can feel the tag on her shirt scratch the nape of his nick uncomfortably so.

the scene is serene and unfamiliar and he feels out of place - it is homely and clean and pure, not tainted with blood, violence and avarice. it is uncomfortable for him to watch her be good and domestic and kind, almost feels like he doesn’t deserve it after the life he’s led. and yet, with time, seeing the world through her eyes is warmly welcomed after a dud of a day doing what he's best known for - being a ghost.

and he almost feels sorry for her, whoever she is. he’s sorry for the man he is, for the soldier he is. he’s sorry that she gets a one-way front ticket to seeing him kill people without remorse.

most of all, he’s sorry she had to end up with him.

for you, seeing the world through your soulmate's eyes has been nothing short of a grim nightmare. every time you'd shift, you'd almost pray to God and cross your fingers to avoid seeing any of the gruesome scenes that he encountered almost on the daily. you cannot see his face, but you can feel how heavy the protective gear is against his body, how taut his shoulders are and you can feel the synthetic fabric of the gun strap dig into his shoulders and chest. you feel his hands touch the steel barrel of the weapon and your blood runs cold. it’s not long before he’s aiming the said gun at a man before shooting him dead without hesitating. the first time you witnessed him doing something this abhorrent, you ended up having a panic attack - still able to feel the weight of the gun in your hands, convinced that you’re the culprit who shot someone in cold blood.

it’s not long before the scenes you witness through your soulmate’s eyes follow you even in your sleep. you’re taking melatonin, chamomile tea, antidepressants - anything to help you cope with the fact that having a soulmate like him means being haunted by gruesome visions for the rest of your life. it’s not long before your co-workers comment on your baggy eyes and frail health - even uniting together to urge you that taking a break would probably do you some good, but you turn them all down with a gentle shake of your head.

and then, you meet Soap through him. scottish, demolition expert, part of the military. wild mohawk, likes to draw, always the victim of your soulmate’s dry jokes. Gaz - british, a sergeant, youngest of the lot, always willing to help, but has enough snark to keep up with Soap about the most ridiculous of things. and Price - captain of his team, with impressive mutton chops and loud sneezes.

you see them relax around each other, see them drink tea, see Soap and Gaz banter and compete with each other at the training grounds - and this change of pace is far more welcomed than seeing people die on the battlefield.

and then there’s him, a pariah. everyone he comes across calls him ‘Ghost’, which just sounds ridiculous. no one knows anything about him, but there are moments when you are where he is and you see Price’s eyes twinkle with something - but your lack of physical presence always hinders your curiosity about the subject. no one has really seen his face, and you fear that you’d never get to know the man who’s destined to compliment you in all aspects of life.

there are moments though, when sharing vision and emotions with you, gets awfully overwhelming for him. it takes a lot to get a man of his stature to waver in his step, but you do that job perfectly. he sees you one day, in your bed with soft satin sheets failing to cover your body. he sees your hands trail down your body and his breath hitched when he feels you play with your cotton panties - before sliding them to the side and rubbing soft circles on your clit. he swears under his breath, trying to hold onto his sanity as it slowly slips away from him when you use your other hand to tease your nipples with skittish touches. it’s not long before Simon has locked himself up in the bathroom stall, using his hands to relieve the tension he has all because of you - matching his rhythm so that he comes at the same time as you.

he wonders if your hands would feel softer. if you’d kiss him before begging him with those doe eyes to make you feel good. if you’d tell him that you love him. if you’d love him enough so that he can be anew - without his past dragging him through the mud.

if you’d lose yourself to him and let him piece you back together with the adoration he carries for you. you’re practically a stranger, and yet you’re the only person who can get to him.

divider by @/cafekitsune

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty smut #soulmate au #char.simon ghost riley #celena.writes

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billlydear · 1 year

Note

Touch starved Billy Hargrove ✨a concept✨

HC - TOUCH STARVED BILLY HARGROVE

W.C 1680 - INBOX (please request !) - CREDIT TO GIF OWNER

mmm not touch starved billy, love starved billy. he gets plenty of skin-on-skin. a backhand or a shove from his dad, a quick fuck in the backseat of his car, hell, why do you think he takes his shirt off to play basketball, a contact sport? he wants to feel touch, he's just never been given a kind one.

and that's where you come in :) from the very first date you're already shyly reaching for his hand, slipping your fingers between his over the vinyl table of the small diner you're eating at

you watch carefully for his reaction, and he's not really able to hide his shock, he kind of goes stiff. so you're worried you've overstepped, and you start to draw back with an awkward apology, but just before you can pull your hand away completely, he tightens his grip, and squeezes your hand, holding it in place.

“Don’t apologize.” Normally that would be said in a teasing, lighthearted tone. But instead his face is strangely intense, eyes shining under the low lights of the diner.

then it escalates from hand holding to a hug. He drops you off at your front step, and instead of just staying in the car, he walks you up. It’s a pretty cliched first kiss scene, you tell him you had a good time and he agrees with a dazzling smile. There’s a slow, heart-racing lean-in, hitched breath and an eager shine in your eyes, and then he kisses you so soft, you’re not even sure he’s there. He’s not really about special first kisses, preferring to tongue a girl behind the gym. But when your hand comes up to press gently, softly against his cheek, he knows he’s addicted to kindness, soaking it up like a sponge and letting the excess compel him to hold your waist.

he’s not handsy like he normally would be, he keeps his hands firmly planted there while you kiss. It’s soft, slow, sweet, and it feels like waking from a daydream as his pretty blue eyes flutter open to stare into yours.

“Goodnight, Billy.” You whisper, and he’s a goner.

there’s tenderness in your voice, your touch, your gaze, and he lays awake that night thinking about it. It warms him up, knowing that you’d treated him like you care. Maybe you do, maybe you dont, but the feeling is intoxicating, and he doesn’t feel as perpetually angry at the world that night

max notices a change after that. Neil shouts at him, tells him he’s good for nothing, weak, disappointing, and instead of slamming his door and blasting music, probably kicking the bed frame, he offers her a ride to the arcade.

"What?" / "A ride, dipshit, I'm going out and I'll drop you on the way."

and the most insane part, he doesn't even bitch at her in the car. she sits silently and so does he, and when she gets out, he says he'll get her at 8. no threats, no name-calling, just 'i'll pick you up at 8'.

when she gets in the car at 8:10, she's absolutely certain she'll be griped at for being late. but he backs out of the spot, and even asks her about the slap bracelet she'd won inside.

"You get that in there?'"/ "Yeah. I had enough tickets so..." / "What?"

She squints hard at his face while they're stopped at a light, and his own face scrunches in displeasure, "What is it?"

"Are you wearing chapstick?"

The light turns green, and he punches it hard, only remembering to slow down as he pulls his lips between his teeth to lick them. she doesn't ask again, but she spots a tube of it on the ground, strawberry flavored, and definitely not hers.

billy had taken you to the drive-in, and apparently it had fallen out of your pocket when you'd leaned over the center to kiss him. he brought it back to you the next day, knocking at your door and greeting your mother who surprisingly loved him. he wasn't really sure how to react to that, because no girl's mother has ever liked him before, but he's welcomed in and finds you in your room, folding laundry.

he spends the entire day with you, a saturday, just being with you. you teach him how to fold laundry your way, and he definitely teases you about the bras and underwear he finds. in retaliation you whack him with a pillow, and he pretends to be greatly injured after the attack, sprawled out over your bed with his tongue out in a cartoonish display of death

you straddle his waist, peering down at his minutely-fluttering eyelashes. you take his face in your hands, gently, sweetly, and turn it to face you, watching as his pretty blue eyes make a reappearance. he's staring at you, and he looks almost nervous, but he could easily push you off it he wanted to, and he doesn't, so you take that as a good sign.

you trace his features, fingers grazing over the tip of his nose and down through the crease of his chin, just below his lips. then beneath his eyes, along his cheekbones, and smoothing over his forehead. he watches you breathlessly the entire time, a thin layer of tears glossing over his eyes.

when you notice them you stop, nervous that you'd upset him. you ask him what's wrong, hovering over his face only inches away

"I love you." He murmurs, reaching up to cup your cheek.

it's breathless, it's passionate, and it's.. a little early. but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. he's just quicker to figure out when he loves someone 'cause he doesn't very often, so it's a new feeling that sticks out to him.

now that he's said it for the first time, watch out.

he's gonna say it 24/7, any opportunity. you hand him a chip? he leans over to bite it out of your hand and goes 'I love you'. he hands you a chip? when you reach for it he'll hold it out of your reach, wait 'till you look at him like wtf? and then say 'love you' with that shit-eating grin of his

he clings to you. his hand is always somewhere on your body, whether it be prying at your own and pulling it into his lap or laying around your shoulders, pressing your sides together

play. with. his. hair. seriously, scratch your nails through his hair, he'll purr like a kitten. brush it out right before his shower, give him a little head massage, that way you can mess up the curls and he'll just reform 'em. comb through it, braid it, put serums and products in it, anything as long as you're touching his scalp

i think he'd really appreciate forehead/cheek/nose kisses, of course he appreciates them on the lips too but it's different, casually intimate and sweet. he's addicted to kissing your cheek, he'll be walking beside you in the mall and yank you closer by where his arm is laid around your hip just to press his lips to your cheek

he kisses your forehead in bed, tugs you into his chest and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. he might not even lean back up, he might just fall asleep with his face pressed to yours

he's.. obsessed with kissing. like, your lips are constantly swollen. of course he's game for a good steamy makeout session but mostly it's just lazy, slow, soft, sweet kisses, just laying together and swapping spit and touching each other, your leg thrown over his, your foreheads bumping together, his hand on your stomach

speaking of, he'll sleep with his hand under your shirt most nights, either flat and warm against your back or your stomach. and if you ever sneak your hand up his shirt to scratch up his back, he shivers. fully body shivers.

he loves loves loves it when you hold him in your sleep, sometimes he stays awake while you drift off just to watch you get comfy and unconsciously snuggle into his warmth. The first time you do it is while you’re watching a movie on your couch and he misses the last half of the film because he’s just watching you sleep peacefully all snuggled into him

he’s not only grateful that you’re his safe space, but he’s amazed that he seems to be your own. he’s never had a safe space before, even when his mama was around Neil was too. so being with someone he loves without any fear or anxiety is very meaningful to him. It means that when you pass out on his shoulder at the drive-in or let him cart you around to parties just as long as he keeps his arm around you the entire time, he recognizes that you feel safe with him, and that means more to him than he’ll ever be able to express

it’s why he takes such good care of you, he doesn’t ever want to let you down or be someone who fails you. the movie’s too loud and you’re starting to wake? he doesn’t need to see the end of it, the two mcs probably get together. he’ll just drive quietly and slowly back home and let you snooze in the parking lot. party getting too wild? he’ll take you out into the backyard and sit on the porch swing with you, smoke a cig and blow it away from you, let your head fall onto his shoulder with his arm around your waist.

your touch grounds him. he feels safe, secure, loved, supported, happy, and content all at once when he’s touching you, even if he’s just knocking his foot into yours from under the lunch table.

Billy may get touched a lot, but not loved, so when you come into his life, a beacon of all things sweet, he’s going to bask in it, soaking up your love like a big sappy sponge and letting it heal his wounds

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove blurb

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scuderiasundays · 10 months

Text

a promise is a promise

summary: sliding into a stranger's dm's, nostalgia for your first date, and a promise sealed with a kiss + a little insta au at the end 💙

words: 1,071

a/n: my first time writing for mr. leclerc! thank you for the req, @headinthecloudssblog 🫶🏼 tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @formulaforza, @thatsdemko, and @diorleclerc because i trust you all deeply. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses!

Charles loved Adele and he sure wasn't shy about it. While the other racing drivers were hyping themselves up with rock, EDM, or rap, the Monegasque’s AirPods (which he often lost) were blaring “Someone Like You.” You, yourself, wondered how the powerful yet melancholy ballad could put him in the right headspace to drive at breathtaking speeds of up to 362 km/h.

You were nothing short of euphoric when it was announced that she would be extending her exclusive residency in Las Vegas. It would be a dream come true if you could see her live during the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. However, a bitter reality crept in when you discovered the final show was scheduled for November 4, a mere two weeks before the two of you would arrive stateside. Charles would be racing at Interlagos, while you would be stuck at a clinical genetics conference in St Andrews.

“I was going to get us tickets to thank you for your service in the Great War!” You huffed as you watched Charles tie the laces of his Puma running shoes, visibly let down by the news. All of your friends thought the racing driver had used his F1 connections to get you those coveted floor seats, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Your boyfriend had spent 18 hours in a virtual queue on one of his few days off, using multiple of his sim racing monitors to secure tickets to the Eras Tour. Arthur had mocked his older brother about how “whipped” he was, joking that he was relieved someone else’s screen time was as horrific as his own.

With a light kiss on your neck, Charles wrapped his arms around you from behind, his voice filled with affection. "It’s like this, ma chérie. I'm going for a run with Andrea," he whispered. As he headed towards the door, his shoulders slumped and his AirPods in, it became clear today's run would be more of a recovery run, a moment for him to recharge physically but more so emotionally.

Determined to bring Charles closer to his idol, you swiftly grabbed your phone from the kitchen island and opened Adele's Instagram profile. Sliding into someone's DMs had never been your style, let alone that of a Grammy-winning artist, but you figured there was nothing to lose.

"Hi, this is Y/N. I know it's unlikely that you'll ever see this, but I'm taking a leap of faith for my boyfriend Charles, who is undoubtedly your biggest fan. Our first date perfectly encapsulates his essence," you began typing, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. "He took me on the most gorgeous twilight yacht ride, accompanied by a meticulously curated playlist of his favorite songs. Upbeat songs like 'A Sky Full of Stars,' 'Pepas,' and 'Feel So Close' filled the air. But then, out of nowhere, a hauntingly beautiful piano melody began to play."

Pausing for a moment, a reminiscent smile graced your face as the memory came roaring back to life. "'Is this Adele?'" you had asked, a glass of rosé in your hand. Charles looked so at peace compared to the tense expression he sometimes wore during race weekends. He had offered you his blue Ferrari sweatshirt to ward off the evening chill and confirmed that it was indeed Adele. Charles shared that he, unlike most, found comfort in what he deemed “depressive music.”

Since that fateful evening, the British songstress' music had become an integral part of your relationship. It served as the soundtrack to your road trips, where you took turns belting ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ It sparked heated debates about whether Adele’s ‘Daydreamer’ or Sade’s ‘By Your Side’ should be your first dance song. It even led to late nights, downing espresso shots just so you could listen to her latest album the second it dropped.

You reached for your phone once again. "That night ended with Charles’ hand resting on my thigh as he drove me home to 'Make You Feel My Love.’ Your music has been the soundtrack to so many of our most intimate moments, and it would mean the world if you could find some time to perform for him," you typed, pouring your heart into the message. You added, "I know this is a long shot, but I..." before eagerly hitting the "Send" button. With a growing sense of accomplishment, you decided to run to the grocery store to pick up some fresh salmon for dinner.

Unable to keep a secret to save your life, you shared what you’d been up to with Charles. "You DM'd the queen? Je t'aime, ma belle, but I highly doubt she'll reply," he playfully teased, rolling his eyes as he wiped the dish you had just handed him.

"What if she does?" you retorted, a hint of hope in your voice. "You know how I treasure you so much I don’t even trust myself to take you on a hot lap? We’ll do it in Las Vegas if and only if Adele responds." His devilish Leclerc wink accompanied the mischievous remark, leaving you to wonder how this crazy turn of events would unfold.

Weeks passed, and with each passing day, the likelihood of a reply dwindled. Charles was away in Qatar when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. A courier stood before you, holding a grand bouquet of white roses along with a message card. Assuming it was from him, your hands trembled as you read the sign-off on the ivory white card. There it was, unmistakably etched in the most elegant script. Five letters. Adele.

You snatched the card eagerly and read it over countless times, overcome with disbelief. It turned out that Adele's devoted fan base had made her very much aware of Charles' fanboying. She expressed her delight and confirmed that she would be more than happy to sing a few songs for you over dinner so long as she could score some “cool mom points” and bring her son Angelo to the race.

Your hands trembled with sheer excitement as you shared the spectacular news with Charles. He blamed his nonexistent allergies as tears welled up in his eyes, but you saw right through his lies.

"So, you'll be taking me on that hot lap, Leclerc?" you grinned, blissed out seeing him so happy. "Bah oui, une promesse est une promesse," he replied, sealing his vow with a well-earned kiss.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 61,616 others

yourusername: weekends with adele (and charles) 🎰🍸❤️

fan1: “it’s true that, after a bad day, if you listen to that, you cry. you don’t feel any better. but i like it. i like the mood of depressive music.” - chuck leclerc

charles_leclerc: i have the best girlfriend in the world! tu est simplement la meilleure ❤️

adele: she’s one of a kind! thank you for letting me bear witness to your love x

yourusername: you, sir, are the love of my life. thanks for tolerating my impulsivity!

fan2: i need a charles and adele collab and i need it NOW 😤

joris_trouche: he’ll never shut up about this

charles_leclerc: prepare to be sick of me! wait, you and @andferrari007 already are 🫣

scuderiaferrari: c² music challenge but adele songs only?

carlossainz55: why play when i don’t even stand a chance 🤨

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc edit #charles leclerc #f1 x you #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 instagram au #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc drabble

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holylulusworld · 7 months

Text

Breathless

Summary: Dream a little dream…or shit…

Summary: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Secret crush

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being an awful boss (mentioned), enemies to lovers, tension, daydreams, secret crush, fear of flying (implied)

Words: 1440+

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C5: Remote control

Square filled for @sebastianstanbingo: Square 10: Sexual frustration

Square filled for @allcapsbingo: G 4: “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Square filled for @marvelfluffbingo (expired): Square 19: office au

Part 1

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Miss Y/N to my office,” Bucky barks. “I think we should talk about a few things…”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?” You are still a little shaken from the naughty dream you woke from moments ago and struggle to look him in the eyes. You only pray you didn’t talk in your sleep.

“I need you to come with me,” he casually says. “Tomorrow. On a business trip.”

“Tomorrow?” You splutter. “But…I didn’t pack, and I don’t know where we are going. Why do you tell me about this so late?”

“It’s a case of emergency. Stark wants to do business with one of my business associates. I need you there to distract him so I can make the deal with Barton.”

“You want me to distract Tony Stark? How? Do you want me to give him a lap dance or more?” while you cross your arms over your chest, and glare at your boss, the man himself still looks proud of his idea.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you’re not too bad to look at and you are good at making conversation. I want you to go home, pack a few things, and meet me at the airport at 7 o'clock sharp,” he demands. “Don’t run late.”

“I never ran late in all the years I’m working for you. But… tomorrow is my day off! I had had plans, and you just tell me I must go on a business trip.”

“You can take a day off after any other day, Ms. Y/L/N. I need you and I won’t ask again.”

You huff. He didn’t ask but demanded your obedience. Mr. Barnes doesn’t understand your irritation or that you’re angry at him. In his opinion, he gives you the perfect opportunity to prove your worth as his assistant.

“7 o'clock sharp, no discussion,” he snaps at you. “You are my assistant and will do as told. I need you at the airport tomorrow morning.”

It’s situations like this leaving you helpless and struggling. You should tell him, no, and to fuck off. But this would mean losing your job. Mr. Barnes is not being reasonable, and he knows it.

You’re fuming but can’t do shit about it. So, once again, you give in to someone else’s demands and swallow the words you’ve got on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine.” You turn around to storm out of Mr. Barnes’ office. If you stay for longer, you’ll slap the smug grin off his handsome face.

Morning came much too soon. You’re in the worst mood ever, and tired as fuck. On top of all, you dreamed of the smug fucker named James Buchanan Barnes again.

This time, he fucked you on top of the printer and plastered the copies of your ass all over the office. He was into degrading you in your dreams and it made you horny as hell. Sadly, you didn't have the time to take care of the problem. Now you are tired, cranky, and frustrated because you didn't get off.

“You made it in time, a progress,” Mr. Barnes dares to say. In the four years you’re working for him, you only once didn’t make it in time.

“I’m always on time.” Your boss ignores you sassed back. “So, where are we going? I still need to get my ticket.”

“What are you wearing?” Mr. Barnes shoves his sunglasses down his nose, looking you up and down. He almost looks offended by your styling. “Are you wearing sweatpants and a Hello Kitty t-shirt? Where are your shoes?”

“It’s casual Friday, Mr. Barnes,” you feign ignorance. “I didn’t know we’ve got a dress code for a flight. I don’t think people in economy class will judge my choice of clothing. I want to be at least comfortable if I’m stuck in an airplane with two people for hours. And I got shoes on. Flip-lops.”

“Economy class?” He takes his sunglasses off. “I hate to disappoint you, by you are going to enjoy only my presence. I already got your ticket.” Mr. Barnes smirks. “I wonder if people in the first class will like your outfit.”

“Stop fidgeting,” Mr. Barnes mutters. You’re always nervous before take-off and can't sit still. You are gripping your remote control tightly with your right hand and press it to your chest. “Why in the world did you bring a remote control?”

He watches you stare down at your feet. “It calms me. When I got scared at night, I grabbed something to hold tight onto. If it happens now, I use the remote control from the TV in my bedroom.”

“Hmm…interesting,” oddly, his features soften, and he grabs your left hand. “If you are scared, squeeze my hand. It’s better than the remote control.”

“I didn’t know you can be nice too.” You glance at your boss. “Thank you.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he replies sharply as if you offended him with your words. “In my world, you must be hard and strict. I can’t attend a business trip in flip-flops and a Hello Kitty shirt.”

You feel insecure out of a sudden. At the airport, you felt self-confident, but now, you feel like a fool. “I wanted to be comfortable. I didn’t know I’d end up in the first class.”

Mr. Barnes doesn’t reply. He waits for the take-off and thinks of the deal he wants to seal with Barton. “You should try to get some sleep after the take-off and redress at the hotel. We don’t have much time until the first meeting.”

“Okay,” you focus on breathing, and the warm hand holding yours. Your boss can be an ass, but right now he grounds you and helps you not to be scared anymore.

“Mr. Barton,” you politely shake Clint Barton’s hand. He smiles in return and asks you about your flight. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he holds your hand a little too long for Mr. Barnes’ liking. Your boss sneers, and he squares his jaw when you giggle at something Clint said.

“Clint, we should get going. I have a few more meetings this afternoon. Can we talk about the deal now, or not?” You quirk a brow at your boss.

“Shall we, Ms. Y/L/N,” Clint smirks at your boss. “We don’t want Bucky to get impatient, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “We should talk about the deal and the upcoming contract. I checked on the numbers, and you’ll see that Barnes Inc. is the perfect partner.”

Mr. Barnes dips his head to look at you. He looks impressed and nods his head in approval.

“Well said, Ms. Y/L/N.”

The meeting dragged on. Your boss and Clint talked about every single detail while you tried to keep up with them and take notes. Or at least look interested when they started talking about cars, and investments.

While they sealed the deal of the century, their words not yours, you wondered why Tony Stark didn’t show.

Now that you think about it, neither your boss nor Mr. Barton mentioned Tony Stark.

“Perfect,” your boss exclaims. He and Mr. Barton shake hands, as you are still thinking about the things Mr. Barnes told you. “Ms. Y/L/N, are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.”

“We earned dinner, didn’t we?” Mr. Barnes asks, taking you by surprise. He furrows his brows as you don’t answer immediately. “Italian, Indian, or Asian. What do you want to eat?”

“Okay,” your heart flutters when he holds out his hand to take the iPad and folder out of your hands. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”

He grins. “Remember, you asked for this…”

“A hot dog,” you giggle. “I thought you wanted to dine tonight, boss.” You don’t mind your boss’s choice. You love a good hotdog.

“Y/N, that’s the best hotdog in the world. And for tonight, call me Bucky. We are officially off duty and got the deal done,” he grins before taking a huge bite of the hotdog. He smears mustard all over his face, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got something…wait,” you use the napkin to clean his face, making things worse as you smear the mustard all over his cheek. “Sorry…let me get a tissue.”

“Not bad, but there are better ways to clean my lips…” Your heart beats out of your chest when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. “You didn’t think I brought you here to flirt with Stark, right?”

“What? I-“You pinch your arm to check if you are dreaming again. “What?”

“Doll, I think we should talk about a few things after we finished the hot dog…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #buckybarnesbingo2023 #sebastianstanbingo #bucky barnes x reader #ceo!bucky barnes x reader #office au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

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hischierdevils · 1 year

Text

Friend's Don't | Q.H.

note: this was based on the g o r g e o u s picture above (quinn looks so fine) and the song Friend's Don't by Maddie & Tae

summary: everyone can see that you and quinn are more than friends. everyone except the two of you.

warnings: slightly jealous quinn, mentions of panic, fluff :)

wc: 2.4K

They don't cancel other plans Have conversations with nothing but their eyes They don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate Hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite

You hadn’t planned on spending time with your best friend over his all-star break, assuming since he saw you all the time he’d want to spend his break with his family. You assumed wrong because Quinn showed up at your place with his suitcase in tow and an extra plane ticket for you. He gave you an offhand comment about wanting to spend time with all of his favorite people as he watched you pack your bags and your heart nearly melted.

The two of you met a year ago when you got lost on your first day of your new job. You were the new social media intern and had gotten lost in the halls of Rogers Arena, quite literally running into Quinn. He was sweet and showed you where to go. He also made sure to circle back and check on you at the end of the week to see how you were doing. He was the first friend you made in Vancouver.

Your friendship grew organically, movie nights turned into binge watching shows together. It was pretty much guaranteed that he would be spending his day off with you if he could. He was always so quiet and reserved and you felt honored when he started talking to you about his problems. He’d call you after road games late at night when he was wide awake and couldn’t sleep. Anytime you had good news or bad, he was always the one you wanted to share it with.

Somewhere along the way you realized that the feelings you had for Quinn were more than just platonic friendship. Every time you heard his name come up in conversation, you’d get distracted and find yourself suddenly daydreaming about him. The two of you could have an entire conversation without even speaking, much to Petey’s annoyance. You hadn’t wanted to risk your friendship so you kept your feelings to yourself.

They don't almost say "I love you" When they're downtown somewhere, just a little drunk They don't talk about the future and put each other in it And get chills with every accidental touch

Quinn didn’t have to convince you to come with him, you happily flew with him to New York where the two of you met up with his brother Jack and his friend and teammate, John Marino. The four of you were currently in The Palace, a club that Jack had suggested.

You were having fun, enjoying the alcohol a little too much, when Quinn accidentally bumped into you. He quickly put his hand on your waist to steady you so you didn’t fall over and heat spread through your body from his touch. “Sorry.” He mumbles as a slight blush rises to his cheeks.

“It’s alright, Quinny.” You smile up at him as he keeps his hand on your body and for a moment you let yourself wonder what it would feel like to lean into him. To kiss him and tell him exactly how you feel…

“Maybe I should quit dancing for a while, eh?” He muses as steps away from you, leaving you wanting more of his touch. He looks undeniably hot tonight even though his outfit is simple. Black jeans, dark long sleeve shirt, and a backwards hat…you were quite proud of yourself for not jumping on him the moment you saw him.

John says something to Quinn, effectively capturing the oldest Hughes’ attention. Quinn gives you a small smile before walking over and sitting down next to Marino. Since Jack took off for the bathroom, you sit by yourself and people watch. Many people are out dancing on the dance floor and you internally weigh the risk of asking Quinn to dance with you.

The song changes to something with a slower tempo and you watch as people couple up on the dance floor. Glancing over at Quinn again, you silently wonder what makes him wearing a backwards hat ten times hotter. Unaware of your eyes on him, he brings the lip of his bud light bottle up to his mouth and takes a long sip. You must’ve been watching him for far too long because you feel someone nudge your shoulder.

Turning your head, you find Jack smirking at you. “Do you need another drink? You look a little thirsty y/n.”

“Fuck off.” You roll your eyes at him as you stand from your seat. Your drink is empty so you make your way over to the bar and Jack follows behind you.

He leans against the bar beside you and sips his beer as you order your drink. “I need one of you to make the first move because the tension is killing me.” He says to you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You play innocent even though he definitely just caught you checking out his brother.

“Please, y/n.” Jack scoffs. “You look at him like he hung the stars in the sky and he can’t take his eyes off of you for two seconds. Just make out already!” The bartender hands you your new drink, looking slightly alarmed from Jack’s tone.

“Thank you.” You tip him before turning your attention to Jack. “Quinn and I are just friends. That’s all we’re ever going to be.”

He shakes his head at you in disbelief. “Is that what you want to be?”

You look over to the spot where you left Quinn, only to spot him chatting with a girl. Something he said makes her laugh and she leans into him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Jealousy washes over you as you watch the interaction and you force yourself to take a drink.

“I want to be drunk and dancing.” You say to Jack. He follows your gaze, scrunching his eyebrows together as he watches Quinn flirt with the girl.

“Let’s dance then.” Jack takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor before you have time to argue. He finds a spot for the two of you where Quinn has an unobstructed view and begins dancing beside you, keeping your hand held tightly in his.

I keep telling myself this might be nothing But one look in your eyes and, God, there's something You can lie to me and say you don't But I know you do, and I love you too

It only takes Quinn about three minutes to realize you’re gone and he starts to panic as he looks around the large place, only calming down when he spots you at the bar with Jack. He’s just about to stand up and join you when the girl runs over and introduces herself. He holds a brief conversation with her out of politeness before Marino steps in, taking the girl's attention off of Quinn.

You’re no longer at the bar when he searches for you again and when he finally does lay his eyes on you, he’s surprised by the rage he suddenly feels. He watches as his own brother spins you around the dance floor, soliciting smiles from you that should only be meant for him.

He’s up and moving toward you before he can think about it. He hasn’t stepped over the friends line out of respect for you and the amazing relationship the two of you already share, but the sight of another man's hands on you is making him physically ill. Even though sober Quinn knows you have no interest in Jack whatsoever, inebriated Quinn needs reassurance.

“What are you guys doing?” He asks once he reaches you, trying to play it cool.

Jack catches the jealousy on his older brother's face immediately and pulls you closer into his chest as you both dance to the beat. “Y/n, wanted to dance.”

“With you?” As annoyed as Quinn is, he can’t help but be mesmerized by your smile as you let go of Jack’s hand and reach for him.

“Do you wanna dance with me, Quinny?” He decides at that moment that you’re the only one he wants to dance with for the rest of forever. Your eyelids seem a little heavy and he knows that this isn’t the right place or time to confess his feelings so he accepts your hand, pulling you away from Jack and into his chest.

“She’s all yours.” Jack winks at Quinn over your head before walking over to John who’s still entertaining the girl.

You wrap one arm around Quinn’s waist and place your opposite hand on his shoulder so you can face him while you dance together. “Are you having fun?” He asks you as he places a hand on your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

“Mhm.” You look up at him through your lashes, a sleepy smile on your face. “Are you? Are you happy to see Jack?”

It melts his heart to know that even in your sleepy-drunk state, you’re still concerned about his happiness. “I was.” He laughs to himself as he realizes Jack was betting on him getting jealous when he saw the two of you dancing together, effectively being the kick Quinn needed to make a move. “Kind of forgot how much of a pain in the ass he is.”

“But you love him.” You muse as you rest your head on his shoulder. His heart begins to beat faster as the word love leaves your mouth. He wasn’t sure of it before but he is now as he holds you tightly in his arms. He’s in love with his best friend.

Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys Finding reasons not to leave Trying to hide their chemistry Get a little too close We do, but friends don't

Quinn walks you up to your hotel room, a steady hand on your lower back the entire way even though you switched to water an hour ago. You swipe your key card and he follows you inside, making sure the door is securely shut behind you.

He sits on the edge of your bed quietly as you flutter in and out of the bathroom, doing your nightly routine. He’s watched you do it so many times he knows exactly what you’re looking for every time you step out of the bathroom in search of something.

“I don’t know what I'd do without you.” You mumble as he hands you your moisturizer on your third trip from the bathroom. He smiles softly in response and as you walk away again, he starts to wonder what his life would be like without you in it. If he couldn’t call you to hear what book you were reading that week, what baked goods you were trying to make or even just hear your voice…

The feeling of loss slams him so hard in the chest that he panics and walks to the doorway to the bathroom just to make sure that you’re still there. You’re innocently brushing your teeth but when you see the look on his face, you quickly finish up.

“Are you okay?” You ask as you walk toward him.

“Y-yeah, yeah.” He nods, trying to convince himself as well as you. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay, Quinn.” You laugh as you flick the light off and walk past him to put your things in your suitcase. “I’m all ready for bed.” You assure him as you sit on the edge of the hotel bed.

He nods, realizing this is his cue to head to his own room for the night. “Right, uh, good night y/n.” He turns toward the door, even though the last thing he wants to do is leave you right now.

“Wait!” You jump off the bed, reaching for his hand. “Do you want to…um…”

“Yes.” He responds, his body half turned toward the door.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” You laugh as he walks closer to you.

“Whatever it is, the answer’s yes.” He gently places his free hand on your face, softly caressing your cheek as his eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes.

“Quinn…” Your voice is just a whisper as you both try to communicate everything you’re not saying. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate by pressing his lips to yours. Gently at first but as soon as you kiss him back, he’s backing you up so the backs of your legs touch the bed. He lets go of your hand and cups the back of your neck, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper. You run your tongue over his bottom lip until he parts them, allowing you entrance.

When the two of you finally pull away you’re both panting and your lips are swollen. Quinn presses his forehead to yours as he rubs soothing circles on your back. “That was…” He searches for the right word.

“Amazing?” You supply as you smile. “Want to do it again?”

“Absolutely.”

Quinn ends up spending the night. Once you thoroughly exhaust yourselves with your make out session, he cuddles you tightly to him as you lay in bed together. He asks you to confirm at least three times that it’s not a dream before he falls asleep so you kiss him softly in response each time.

In the morning, you’re rudely awakened by none other than Jack, rounding everyone up for breakfast. “Y/n, do you know where Quinn is? He’s not in his ro-” Jack’s eyes go wide as Quinn opens the door for him.

“No, haven’t seen him.” You tell Jack as you sit up in bed. Quinn laughs at your sarcasm as he closes the door behind Jack.

He looks between the two of you, taking notice of the clothes Quinn is still wearing from the night before. “Just friends, eh?” Jack sits on the edge of the bed and smirks at you. “Was this a friendly sleepover, y/n?”

Quinn points to the door. “Alright, get out.”

Jack ignores his brother and winks at you, causing you to laugh. “How come I didn’t get an invite?”

“Seriously, man?” Quinn slaps Jack’s shoulder.

“Alright, okay.” Jack laughs as he holds his hands up in surrender, “I better get credit for this at the wedding.”

Quinn winces, fearing it may be way too soon for you to hear jokes like that when everything is still too new. He shoves Jack out the door, promising you’ll meet him for breakfast in ten minutes. When he turns around to look at you, you’re smiling at him. “We’re not inviting him to our wedding right?”

“Absolutely not.” Quinn grins walking over to capture your lips in a kiss.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes #my writing

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