#good morning we are answering your asks!!
Text
Summer Heat
Summary: You run into your ex Taehyung at a bar and go home with him just to keep hanging out. But perhaps Taehyung wants more. And so do you.
Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader
Genre: exes au, exes to lovers, fluff, smut.
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, dialogue heavy, communication, fingering, mention of oral, unprotected sex.
Notes: An exes to lovers Taehyung drabble request!!!! sorry it took so long...hope you enjoy anon! (and whoever else hehe)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Why did we break up?”
Did he ask that? Or did you? You aren’t sure who asked that. You just know that it’s been asked by one of you. The question floats in the air, the words growing bigger until they pop next to your ear. Your stomach stirs uncomfortably when the words echo a little, and finally, you realize it sounds a lot like your voice. You gulp.
“You don’t know?” Taehyung leans against the door frame, wood creaking before his arms cross over his chest. “If you don’t know then I definitely don’t know.” He suddenly smiles.
You’re wondering how you two ended up in his guest bedroom at his house. How you find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel neatly folded in your lap as you wait for Taehyung to leave the room so you can shower. You glance at the dresser where his clothes lay on top, ready for you to borrow. Wearing his clothes is…
“Sorry.” You look down, “I shouldn’t have asked honestly.”
“Why not?” His voice is teasing.
You look up again, “Because we spent the whole night talking about how the past is the past and I don’t know, it just felt nice to hang out. I don’t want to ruin any,” You motion your hands in the space between you, “Like…vibe we got going on.”
Taehyung laughs, his back relaxing more against the wall. “It has been fun, right? Who would have thought I’d run into you tonight.”
“I can’t believe its six in the morning.” You glance towards the window, a dark blue sky beginning to light up. “Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
“I’m the one who insisted we stay up.” Taehyung stretches his neck, a small smile still on his face. “We had, what was it? 5? 6 years to catch up on?”
“Something like that.” You smile back, shrugging a little. “Lucky tomorrow is Saturday and we don’t have to work.”
Taehyung gazes at you, the softness in his eyes hard to miss. “I think I would have stayed up no matter the day of the week.”
Your stomach tightens, “Oh yeah?”
“So why did we break up?”
He asks this time. The question now echoing in his voice.
“I don’t know really.” You answer, “We weren’t ready?”
Taehyung separates his back from the door frame, his legs taking him to the end of the bed where he sits next to you. “We were young?”
“And not ready.” You emphasize this time. “Right person, wrong time.”
“So are you going to let me know when it’s the right time?” Taehyung asks you, his voice quieter as he looks ahead. “Because who knows, maybe it’s still right person.” His eyes slide towards you, curiosity sitting in them.
You can’t help but quietly gasp to yourself, his curious eyes sharpening the more he gazes at you. You’ve been wondering all night. You’ve been wondering if there’s still something between you, especially because something electric has been bringing you closer the past few hours. But you didn’t know if it was your imagination.
Taehyung’s gaze drops down to your hand that rests against the mattress. His eyes trail up your bare arm and it feels as if his fingertips are grazing your skin.
“You think we’re still a good match?” You breathe out your words, your eyes falling to Taehyung’s bottom lip. “Or do your interests only lie in getting laid tonight?”
Taehyung’s eyes grow round, shocked at first before he chuckles, “Can it be both?”
You bite back another smile. “Maybe.”
It’s been five and half years since you and Taehyung called things off—well, since you called things off. In your eyes, it really was right person, wrong time. You aren’t sure if Taehyung agreed at that time because you didn’t really give him the chance to. That still stings a little. Probably more for him than you but seeing how lighthearted he’s been all night, you guess he’s over it.
Are you over it?
You kind of have to be.
“I remember you being a really good kisser.” Taehyung’s fingers crawl over to yours, his skin warm as he subtly touches you.
You bite down onto your bottom lip, another smile forming. “So this is about getting laid tonight.”
“Not at all. But maybe a part of it.” Taehyung taps his fingers before weaving them through yours. Then he pulls back. “But if you don’t want to do anything…”
“Who said that?” You find his dark eyes, “I might just be teasing you.”
“You’ve always loved teasing me.”
“Maybe I still do?”
“So, some things haven’t changed.” He teases back, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if some things were still the same. There’s some things I’m hoping are very different though.”
“Like what?” You can’t help but ask, your hand sliding closer to his again.
“One, I hope you stopped being such a picky eater. And two, you let me have an opinion about us.”
You feel that sting. It shouldn’t be you who feels it but you do. “Us?”
“Yeah.” He hums, his fingers suddenly between yours again. He leans closer to you, “I want to decide things too.”
“Like what?”
“Like,” Taehyung naturally grows closer to you, his body suddenly pushing up against your side when he leans down and presses his lips against your bare shoulder. “If I should be in your life or not.”
You slowly close your eyes when you feel his warm breath before he places a kiss on your shoulder. Then another. And another.
He continues, “Last time, you decided without me. This time I want a say.” Another kiss.
You feel your stomach turn upside down, his lips confusing you while his words make you feel guilty.
“Taehyung.” You say his name, your voice uncontrollably insecure. “Are we talking about this now?”
Another kiss. “No.”
You open your eyes, your back straightening when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. It feels good and familiar. Yet you aren’t sure how to react.
“Is it crazy to say I’ve missed you?” Taehyung sighs out, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “It is, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have thought about you so much in these last few years.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Your stomach flops again, but this time you feel intrigued. “What did you miss? Me? Or my lips? My mouth? My—”
“—Can’t I say everything?” Taehyung lifts himself, his eyes urging you to look at him. He stays close. “I missed your overthinking too, believe it or not.”
Your lips curl at the thought, his teasing working. “Oh yeah?”
“But I missed your hugs the most. When we hugged earlier…I swear I wanted to give you me right then and there.”
“Your vodka sodas make you chatty, don’t they?”
“Oh yeah.” He chuckles, “You aren’t used to it, right?”
“Considering you didn’t drink when I knew you, no. But it was fun drinking with you tonight.”
“You got kind of chatty too.” Taehyung decides to create space between you both, his body suddenly laying back on the bed. “Never been in love with anyone else since me?” He sounds proud. “Feels like that should have taken longer to admit—”
You hit his thigh with your fist, embarrassment hot on your neck. “Shut up, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Also, it’s the truth and I can’t change it.”
You’re turned to eye him, but you quickly look away before laying down yourself. You keep your hands together, resting on top of your stomach.
“I’m not sure I’ve really been in love either. Maybe. Maybe not.” Taehyung tells you. “I’ve definitely thought about you over the years though.”
“Like what?”
“Your mouth—”
You hit his thigh again.
He laughs this time, “Okay, okay. Like for example, I saw someone eating skittles a few weeks ago and it reminded me of you. How you eat them all except the purple ones.”
“I still don’t eat the purple ones.”
“Great.” Taehyung huffs out dramatically, “You’re still picky.” He turns his head towards you and you do the same, meeting his eyes. Your stomach flops again when he smirks at you. “Somehow I missed that, too.”
“Liar,” You can’t help but laugh. “You—”
“We still click, you know?” Taehyung cuts you off, his gaze sharp again. “I’d like to hang out again. But not as friends or anything…as…I don’t know,” He turns his head, eyes on the ceiling while he smiles sheepishly. “I want to see if we can make this work. Possibly.”
“Vodka sodas make you so loose-lipped.”
“Thank God, too. I’m saying all the things I want to say so I’m thankful for it.”
“Well….” You turn your body towards him, lifting yourself on you elbow, “What else do you want to say?”
“You’re very pretty. And I want to kiss you.” Taehyung mirrors his body to yours. He looks confident as usual but you see the nerves in his eyes. “I’m not kissing anyone else at the moment, if you’re worried about that.”
“I wasn’t.” You weren’t.
Taehyung has never been known for being a player, or messing with more than one girl at a time. If he’s showing interest in you then you know you’re the only one.
“I’ve been single for like 8 months already.” He tells you, “So I’m clean, too.”
“I…yeah, it’s been a little while for me too.” You glance towards the open door, “But also, you sound real hopeful this is going to go in your favor.”
“Please.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I know the way you’ve been looking at me all night. Catching up has been nice but there’s more going on here, right?”
He’s right.
“No.”
“Now you’re the liar,” Taehyung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But like I said, we don’t have to do anything. But I still want to see you again.”
You’re both sat up on your elbows, the distance small between you before you decide to be brave.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask.
Taehyung blinks at you for a moment, his dark eyes surprised.
“Just a kiss.” You assure him, your lips curling into a smirk. “One kiss.”
Taehyung holds his breath, seconds that feel like minutes pass. A small laugh finally leaves his mouth and his eyes fall to the bed. “Why am I suddenly nervous?” He admits. “As if I forgot how to kiss.”
“You were so confident earlier?” You tease him but you were positive you saw the nerves in his eyes and you were right.
“I think the vodka sodas helped and they’ve worn off at this exact moment.”
“How convenient.”
“It really is, isn’t it?”
You stare at Taehyung, his eyes going from yours to the mattress every few seconds before the strap of your tank top slides off your shoulder and his eyes glue to that extra inch of skin. It was a hot summer night, and a white tank top with some shorts is all the night called for.
You didn’t think you would run into Taehyung at a bar neither of you have been to. A night out with a couple of friends that happily ditched you to catch up with your ex.
“Why did we break up for real, y/n?” Taehyung’s eyes are back on yours. “I know but sometimes I doubt and question it.”
“Still?”
“You expect me not to?” He laughs a little but his voice is now the one that sounds uncontrollably insecure. “I was in love with you for so many years of my life. You were my best friend…”
You feel a sharp poke in your heart.
“I know.” You decide to sit up, your body slumping over a little. “I’m sorry.”
And you are. You’ve wanted to apologize for years.
“I know you’ve been sorry since the day we broke up.” Taehyung sits up too, his side pushed up against yours. Suddenly space isn’t necessary. “Don’t feel bad. I just want to hear you confirm your reason.”
You glance at Taehyung, eyes studying him. “I got scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“That I didn’t know myself yet. That it would have been better if we were older…more mature. I should have just talked to you. But I thought you’d agree. I just…” You stop, ripping your eyes away from him. “Wanted to make it easier for both of us at that time.”
“Okay.” Taehyung nods to himself. “It wasn’t because you stopped loving me?”
“No.” You don’t find the courage to look at him yet. “I still loved you.”
Taehyung bumps into your shoulder with his and you hear the lightness in his voice again. “We’re older? More mature? You think we could look at one another the way we did before?”
You straighten your back again. “You really want to try this again?”
“I really want to kiss you at the least.” He sounds teasing once more. “But yeah, I’d love to continue getting to know you and see where this might lead.”
“I offered to kiss you already but you chickened out.” You bump into his shoulder now.
“I know.” He laughs, “But turns out I did want to have the conversation now. Kind of want to kiss you even more now because of it.”
“Then kiss me now, if you want.”
You’re older now. More mature now.
Yet you’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, towel still folded in your lap, eyes on the floor and nerves surrounding you both.
Taehyung’s breath leaves his mouth in a warm puff and you feel it glide over your bare thighs. His nerves make you brave. You grasp the towel in your hands before placing it next to you and you turn your head towards the man you used to love.
He mirrors you, eyes still unsure.
“You’re cute.” You murmur. “And—”
Taehyung leans in closer, his eyes stuck on your lips. “It’s okay, right?”
You nod.
The warm breath you felt on your thighs now lingers over your lips. It makes you stop breathing.
He comes closer, his hand softly landing on your lower back, fingers slowly digging into your tank top as he grows closer and finally, you feel the skin of his lips touch yours in a kiss that becomes firmer the longer he stays. His kiss is so familiar that it will haunt you later.
Taehyung detaches for only a moment, catching his breath before he leans in again more confidently and you finally give him a response. Your lips slowly moving over his as you kiss him back, your hands sliding up his chest. So familiar. His tongue pokes out and you open your mouth just the slightest to grant his wish. You taste him now, and it’s also hauntingly familiar.
You feel your lower belly swirling and swirling, a tension growing between your legs and it makes you ache. You wish a few kisses didn’t make you this desperate already but when Taehyung feels your fingers slide up into his hair, he knows you desire more.
His tongue explores more freely and you moan into his mouth, the sound quiet and soft but it creates a stirring in Taehyung’s pants. He can feel himself grow harder. So, he kisses you harder.
You break away for a moment, lips wet and tingly. “You have a condom?”
“Already?” He asks, breathless. “Let me at least eat you out first.”
“I haven’t showered yet.” Your eyes slide to the side, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“I don’t care.”
“I care.”
His hands go to your shorts, fingers fiddling with the button. “Fingers?”
You think about it for a second, thighs squeezing together at the idea. “Okay.”
And his fingers are quick to undo the button on your shorts, and he pulls down the zipper. You quickly wiggle out of them, kicking them off of you, while they land somewhere on the floor.
“Cute underwear.” He tickles the skin above the band with his fingers, before they slide lower and you gasp. He begins rubbing them over where you ache. Your panties grow damper and damper, making it easy for him to move your underwear to the side, and his fingers dive into your wetness.
“Ah, Taehyung…” You become tense. Teeth digging into your bottom lip. “I—”
His fingers swirl over your clit, making you sigh out in content. They play here before he uses his middle finger to dive where you really want him. Finger massaging your entrance, before he adds another. Entering you, making you immediately relax once the moment you’ve been anticipating is over. He works to stretch you out, his eyes focused on yours, his tongue wetting his lips as he watches how you start to fall into a daze.
His fingers feel so good. They’re long and reaching the right places. He curls them, making you whine, head falling to his shoulder and he chuckles.
“Feel good?” He whispers, fingers working harder and all you hear is how they fuck into you.
You nod against his shoulder, a breathy laugh leaving your lips.
“I want you…” You admit, “Now.”
His fingers stop moving, his head suddenly nodding quickly and he slides them out. “Yeah.”
Taehyung brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them proudly and you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop. He wanted your familiar flavor. So, it can haunt him later too.
You stand, eyes on him as you take your tank top off. He stands too, helping you take off your bra and his eyes are glued to your chest, clouding over with lust. You reach for the bottom of his shirt and he helps you take it off his body. Shorts and boxers are next. You stare at his cock, the head of it throbbing and you feel your mouth water. Another time, you tell yourself.
You finally slip off your underwear and you stand here, gazing at one another and you both become dizzy.
“You’re so beautiful.” He tells you, hands reaching for your hips and he guides you to the bed again, laying you down. “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”
“Me too.” You tell him, breathless and heated.
Taehyung crawls over your body and you feel how he moves his cock to enter you, moving slowly until he’s snug between your legs. You both sigh. Your walls tightening around him. He feels so good. And so familiar. He pushes himself further into you, your legs wrapping around his waist until you gasp to yourself, eyes shutting in contentment.
“You feel…” You can’t finish your sentence.
“Yeah.” He agrees, sliding out of you before thrusting back in. He repeats this motion a few, slow times. Letting his cock get soaked and pulled into your sweet core. He can’t remember the last time he felt this entranced. Maybe it was with you.
He starts fucking into you, the repeated motions are smooth and calculated. He’s trying his best to fuck you at the angle that is going to make you whimper. And he finally finds it. He moans into your neck, his hot breath making your skin moist. He starts kissing your throat.
You feel yourself growing tighter and tighter the more he firmly pushes in. You’re going to cum.
Taehyung starts thrusting faster, his kisses growing sloppy and he forces himself to slow down, his body trembling above yours. Oh, he’s really close.
“You’re so pretty…” He moans, his thrusts getting harder. “I fucking missed you, your pussy…everything.”
“Taehyung…” You wrap your arms around him, nails clawing at his back. “Fuck, just like that…I’ll cum.”
“Yeah. I know.” He smirks against your neck before he lifts his head and locks eyes with you. “Let’s cum together, y/n. Fuck,” His pace grows faster and you feel your insides crumble. He feels too good.
“I’m gonna—” You choke on air when he thrusts particularly hard, pushing into you so deep it makes your stomach tighten. He fucks you so deep you wonder how you could go without this any longer.
“y/n.” He chants your name, head falling into your neck again, whining against your skin and that’s all it takes for the band inside you to snap. You feel warmth gushing around his cock, dribbling out of you as you cum all around him and his hips thrust forward a few more times before he releases every drop of cum he can offer inside you.
Your body becomes limp, legs falling from his waist as you catch your breath, silently laughing as the euphoria continues to overtake you. Taehyung laughs too, breathing heavily above you, his eyes shining with happiness. You can’t miss it.
“We forgot the condom.” He tells you.
“I know.” You bite your lip, hiding another smile. You aren’t worried since you’re on birth control. “Maybe you can shower with me?”
He leans down to kiss you, smile all over his face. “Okay, and then I’m eating you out.”
#bts#bts smut#Kim taehyung#taehyung fluff#taehyung smut#bts fics#taehyung fic#Drabble requests#taehyung x reader#taehyung drabble#bts drabble
332 notes
·
View notes
Text
Square Dance: Two Step
Country!Wanda x Male!Reader
It all started when your best friend Pietro ‘Piet’ Maximoff invited you to leave the city for a week. He saw how much city life and work was wearing you down, how much you needed a detox from all of the stress and anxiety.
He picked you up in his pick up truck from your apartment on a Sunday morning. Piet was a track star in college, full ride, and your best friend / roommate. Now he works as a mechanic in his home town. He never really talked about home but he loved it.
“I promise, pal” your Southern accented friend told you, “you’re gonna love it. I’m taking you to the best watering hole in the area tonight.”
“Are you still trying to get me to settle down?” You laughed.
“I just wanna see my bud happy. A little tail can help that” he gives you a playful wink.
First things first he helped you drop off your stuff at the guest room in his modest two story homestead. “Sorry I can’t give you the master bedroom” he chuckled, “my traveling sister came back to town, she called dibs”
“I don’t mind.” You said with a shrug, “your sis deserves it” You never met Piet’s sister but you did know about their constant teasing due to having seen their text exchanges.
“Come on, bud” he said practically pulling you out the door. “Let’s live a little!”
You and Piet made your way to the local watering hole and dance hall. Didn’t take long for Piet to make the rounds and chat up a couple people.
“Does Crystal approve of you being here?” you asked your pal with a laugh.
“Speak of the angel and she’ll appear” he responded as his longtime girlfriend made her way towards the two of you. Didn’t take long for Piet and her to go to the dance floor.
The band took to the small stage a second later. The announcer made his way to the microphone.
“Evening fellas, ladies, please give a nice warm applause to our guest singer the Good Witch, Scarlett.”
And with that introduction, the most beautiful woman you had ever seen made her way to the microphone. Her confidence, the sort of kind way she carried herself, it made your heart beat fast.
“Howdy everyone” she said with a southern twang. “Glad to see so many familiar faces in the audience…”
Her eyes locked with yours. Her eyes looked at you with pure adoration. A small smile made its way across her face.
“And so new faces too” she gave you a little wink, “so let’s start shall we?”
Her keyboardist began playing a simple melody:
(Can Love Stand the Test - Don Henley & Bonnie Raitt)
Did I lose your love a long time ago
Or did I just wear it out? Baby, I don't know
Seems like anymore we're not on the same page
In the same book, or on the same stage
We say the words, but they feel all wrong
Like a happy blues, like a sad love song
How two people can bow and scrape
For every shred of tenderness
Can love stand the test
Of times that surround us
Memories that astound us
Joy and happiness
Can love stand the test?
Her eyes were locked on you. Did she feel some sort of connection to you, as you could feel with her? You hadn’t spoken a word and yet it was like you knew her somehow.
We said forever, for always, for good
But the years were not impressed
Can love stand the test
Of time that surrounds us
Moments that astound us?
Can love stand the test
Of time that surrounds us
Moments that astound us?
Joy and happiness
Joy and happiness
Joy and happiness
The audience cheered as the song ended. The mystery singer offered a humble little bow. “Alright” she said with a giggle, “who’s ready for a little square dancing, huh?”
The crowd cheered and began asking for their own partners as the singer got off the stage and began making her own way towards you. Everyone else faded away, it was like it was only you and her in that entire watering hole.
“Howdy there” she flashed a gentle smile at you
“H-Howdy” you managed to answer back.
“You’re not from around here are ya?” her twang just made your heart flutter.
“No. I’m in town for a couple days”
“Well City Boy” she gave a little twirl in her hips, “do you wanna dance?”
“I-I got like two left feet” you said with a little embarrassment. She only giggled in response and took your hands.
“Don’t worry” she reassured you, “just follow my lead”
You and this amazing gal danced a couple square dances together that night. Time seemed to blur, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper into what felt like love. You could spend an eternity on that dance floor with her and it wouldn’t feel like enough time with her.
The way she smiled those pearly whites at you. The way her reddish brown hair bounced. The way she looked at you with those emerald green eyes that made your heart beat practically out of your chest. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone so fast.
Sadly the song came to an end. She offered you a quick bow and a tip of her own hat to you. “Ya know” she smiled at you, “you sure can dance, city boy”
“You’re not too bad yourself, ma’am” you complimented her back.
“How long you in town for?” She drew a little closer to you.
“A week, maybe a little longer”
“That’s an awful long time” she wrapped her arms around your neck, yours wrapped around her waist.
“M-my name’s Y/N”
She offered a gentle, sincere smile, “my name’s-”
“Wanda?” Piet spoke up, staring in shock at you and the gal before you. She gave a slightly embarrassed tip of the hat to Piet.
“Hey bro” Wanda said to Piet
“I see you met my bud Y/N” Piet said.
“He’s a great dancer” she answered back, giving you a gentle smile.
Part of you was horrified. Another part of you was on cloud nine. Your life was supposed to be structured, not on a whim. And yet here you were. Not only had you fallen in love on your first night out of the city, you had fallen for your best friend’s sister.
To Be Continued…
Tags: @lifespectator @aloneodi @deafeningsharkslimeempath @iamnicodemus @holiday-house-of-m @family-house-of-m @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7
#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel fluff#mcu#mcu imagine#mcu fandom#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#the scarlet witch#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff imagine#country Wanda#country girl#country girl x reader#country x city#male reader#wanda maximoff x male reader#x male reader#x male y/n
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bridgerton shade of blue
Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Warnings: Sexual themes at the Granville studio. Nothing explicit.
Season one
Chapter Eleven - Ruse to ruse
♡♡♡
Colin had brought you here, so he saw to it that he saw you home, though Benedict was a little reluctant. He kind of wanted to do it himself, but there wasn't time to argue and dawdle.
Anthony and Benedict would see Daphne home, Colin would take you, and Simon would need to go home and prepare himself for his future with Daphne.
Colin was good at riding. He handled the horse with perfection. You were home before your mother was even properly awake. He helped you off the horse, and you thanked him quickly, going around the back of the house knowing the servants would be up already.
Colin rode away before he was seen.
You dodged some maids as you returned to your room and quickly dressed down to make it look like you had been in bed the entire time.
You were lucky to get back when you did. A mere ten or fifteen minutes passed before your maid came into the room to wake you. You stretched and rose from the bed, relying on your acting to fool the poor girl into believing you hadn't been awake since before dawn.
She seems none the wiser as she tells you breakfast will be ready shortly and that your mother was awake.
Once you're up and dressed, you can act naturally. Everything that happens now is just the course of things. Daphne and Simon shall marry, she'll become a duchess, and Violet can set her sights on her next daughter, Eloise.
You enter the dining hall and see your mother already there, starting her breakfast. You join her with a smile.
"Good morning, dear."
"Good morning."
She seems none the wiser as to what you had been doing earlier that morning. For that, you are thankful. You tuck into your breakfast and pretend nothing had happened.
You've barely eaten when the butler comes in and announces you have a guest. You glance up at your mother with confusion. However, she looks thrilled.
"A caller?"
You don't even get to answer before she's up and heading toward the door to see who it was. You stand, too. Your mother returns moments later being followed by Benedict.
You look at him in confusion this time.
"Mr. Bridgerton, how delighted we are for your visit," your mother coos.
"An innocent visit, I assure you," he replies.
Your mother looks at you and tilts her head in his direction.
"What brings you to our door?" You ask, looking at Benedict.
"I thought I'd share the news. Daphne is engaged to the duke. She told mother this morning." He speaks slightly strained. Of course you already knew this information.
"How wonderful!" Your mother cheers.
"Yes. Very. Is she happy?" You ask, playing along.
"I'm sure they both will be." You catch the change of tone in his voice.
Silence settles between you both.
"Don't mind me," your mother says, returning to her seat at the table.
You sigh softly and turn to Benedict. "I'll show you out."
Your mother calls your name and then says, "so soon?"
"I'm sure Mr. Bridgerton was just delivering the good news in person. After all, they are my friends, mother."
You didn't give her time to answer before leading him out of the dining room. Benedict followed you to the door.
"What are you doing here?" You ask.
"I had to make sure you got home alright," he says softly.
"Colin brought me home."
"I know..."
You sigh softly and look up at him. "How is your mother coping?"
"She is pleased Daphne is marrying the duke. However, it would seem that Cressida Cowper may have seen them in the garden that night." He explains.
"Oh dear..."
"I'm sure all will be well, but we must keep our wits about us for now."
"Then why did you come here?"
"I told you. To make sure you got home."
"Do you not trust your brother?" You ask.
"Of course I do," he replies quickly. "I just wanted to see you."
You smile and then chuckle. "You worry too much. You should go home and be there for Daphne. She will need all the support she can get right now."
He sighs softly and nods. Benedict does leave immediately. He just looks at you. You're unable to read the expression on his face as you stare back at him in confusion.
He soon snaps out of his daze and takes his leave. You watch him go.
When you return to the dining room, your mother looks at you. "Why did you show him out so soon?"
"Mother..."
"He could have come with good intentions."
"He just came to tell me of Daphne's news," you say, sitting down once again.
"He may want to court you."
"Mother, I can assure you that my future husband will not be a Bridgerton. That will never happen."
Your mother grumbles. "You never know."
You look down into your tea cup and see your reflection in the hot liquid. "No, mother. I do know."
♡♡♡
Daphne was to be married within the week, so you hear from her when you visit her family the day after the duel.
Violet was all a buzz with the news, truly believing her daughter was marrying for love, but everything you looked to the eldest Bridgerton daughter, you could only see the anxiety on her face.
Poor Violet would never know what really happened.
Eloise excused herself from all things wedding related, so you accompanied where you could. Daphne was grateful to have a hand to hold when her emotions became too much sometimes.
When she was fitted for her wedding dress, you held her hand. When her mother went through gloves and veils, you were stood there beside her, your arm hooked with hers. When they discussed nightdresses, you stood beside her and kept her company.
Daphne was glad you were there. She surely would have lost her patience had you not been.
When you returned to their home later that day only to find out from Anthony, the special license had been denied, Daphne reached for your hand again.
The conversation was cut short when Violet entered the room to greet Lady Danbury.
"Now, this is far too grim a mood for the celebration I was counting on," Lady Danbury said, looking at everyone. "What on earth is the matter?"
"Anthony?" Violet looks at her son.
"We have been denied our request for a special license," he tells them.
"What?"
"The archbishop did not see a need." The duke added.
"It is not the archbishop," Lady Danbury says. "It is the queen. Perhaps she has taken your rejection of her nephew to heart, or perhaps she is simply bored. Either way, it does not bode well for your daughter's social future, nor any of the Bridgertons for that matter."
You feel Daphne squeeze your hand.
"Surely we must be able to do something?" Violet asks.
"Give her what she wants. Attention. Appear before her yourselves and make a personal appeal. But she will not respond to begging, and she can sniff out even the faintest whiff of insincerity, so do not lay it on thick. Tell her you are in love, plain and simple and true."
Daphne and Simon look at each other. Daphne looks like she could cry.
"You can do that, can you not?" Lady Danbury asks them.
Daphne nods her head. Then Simon gives one firm nod also.
"Good. Now, where is the dinner I was promised?"
Violet chuckles and leads the way.
You let go of Daphne's hand and follow her mother. Anthony accompanies you, and the happy couple follow.
♡♡♡
Benedict returns to the studio of Mr. Granville. He has chosen to sit out dinner with his family, not knowing you were there.
Henry answers the door.
"Bridgerton! I am so glad you came."
"I dare not miss it," Benedict answered.
"Please, come in."
The two of them head inside.
"Make yourself at home. I would show you around, but host duty calls." Henry smiles and walks on ahead.
The studio is much more lively tonight. There are people everywhere. Benedict walks down the hall a little bit and peers into one of the open doorways. The room is full of pretty women dressed in as little possible dancing around. He keeps on walking and peers into another room. There are people sketching in this one.
"What are you doing here?"
Benedict turns around to find a woman looking at him.
"Apologies. Have we met?" He asks.
"We need not to have met," she says. "You are a Bridgerton, yes?"
Benedict, of course, would not recognise the seamstress.
"I see my reputation precedes me."
"Not exactly a virtue."
"Anything that gets me your attention is a good thing, I rather think."
"You should go, home to your brother, perhaps."
Benedict scoffs. "But I'm receiving far too warm a welcome here."
They later find themselves on the stairs enjoying each other. His lips on her neck and collarbone as his large, warm hands explore every curve of her body.
She takes his hand and leads him down the stairs and through the crowds. He hurries forward to find them a room, opening a door only to find Henry Granville and another gentleman enjoying each other up against the wall.
Henry's eyes land on Benedict as he stands there, watching them. Slowly, Benedict steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Bridgerton," Genevieve whispers.
She's sat with a young woman nearby. She uses her finger to gesture him over. He walks over immediately, sitting between them and kissing the young lady. He then turns and kisses Genevieve, too.
He enjoys his evening with the pair of them.
It was safe to say, this man had no intention of settling down any time soon.
♡♡♡
The dinner passes by rather quietly. There is a slight tension between Simon and Daphne. Violet and Lady Danbury carry most of the conversation, and you join in when possible.
The only other Bridgerton's at the table were Anthony and Eloise, though the latter made it clear she would rather be anywhere else.
You find yourself a little disappointed at the lack of Benedict. Anthony just told you his brother had gone out. He knew not where. You didn't bother digging if he didn't know.
"What about you? Are there any prospects this season for you?" Lady Danbury asks, gesturing to you with her wine glass.
You look uo and find yourself a little stunned at the question. "Oh, um. I had some callers. Though not many. Very few came back a second time." You look down at your dinner.
"Worry not. You're still young. Your time to shine will come," she winks at you.
Violet looks at Anthony, who furrows his brow at her. When she nods her head at you, he shakes his head with wide eyes. Violet gives him a firmer look.
You look up, and she quickly smiles at you.
Anthony sighs and turns his head toward you. He keeps his voice low. "Whatever my mother says, do not buy into it."
"Hm?" You look at him with confusion.
"Anthony," Violet calls. Both of you look up at her. "Why not keep her company tomorrow?"
"Mother..."
"It would surely make her happy." Violet smiles brightly.
"Lady Bridgerton, there is no need," you try and steer her away from setting her up with one of her sons.
"I'm sure he won't mind."
"You're busy, no?" You ask quickly, turning to the young Viscount. "You mentioned some ledgers or something."
Anthony nods quickly. "Yes. Exactly. Those ledgers."
Violet sinks in her seat a little. Disappointed in her son. She can't help thinking you'd make a wonderful daughter-in-law. You would suit the Bridgerton name quite well, she is certain.
When dinner is over, Simon is very quick to leave. He speaks very little to Daphne as he exits the house.
Anthony sees you out.
"Shame Benedict wasn't present," you say absentmindedly.
"You seem rather close to my brother."
"We are friends. Fret not." You smile at him.
"I have no idea where he wanders off to so late at night. Nor do I care to ask."
"What you men do in your free time is your own business," you say.
"What could you possibly know what men get up to?" He asks, looking at you.
You just give him a sly smile, one Anthony simultaneously hates and loves. You're a cheeky one.
"Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton."
"Goodnight."
He waits until you're in the carriage and then heads back inside his house. He walks starlight past his mother, who is gearing up to talk him into courting you, he is sure.
Violet watches him disappear upstairs.
♡♡♡
The next day, Daphne and Simon appear before the queen. You know not what is said in that room, but you are to gather later that Simon Basset made the most romantic speech known to man.
He declared his love Daphne in front of everyone in that room.
The queen gave them her blessing.
It worked.
♡♡♡
@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333
@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173
@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner
@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd
@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle
@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15
@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @luckily123345 - @charmainemaclendon
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Baby Dream
Summary: You tend to have "the baby dream" every once in a while, but you never really mentioned it to your boyfriend Marc let alone had a conversation about having a baby with him in general. You tell him about the one you just had this time.
Warnings: not really anything real to warn about other than the reader's character feels a little sad when they find out that their baby was only something in their dream. Implied afab reader and implied that they breastfeed their baby.
Author’s Snip: I have a mix of baby fever and recently had a baby dream of my own so I decided to use that as a prompt.
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.
Word Count: 618
Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (you too can join my tag list, just ask)
The sound of a small soft grunt and whine wakes you right up. The morning sun breaches through the bedroom curtains and gives the room a soft lighting that makes the room visible without burning your still sleepy eyes. You look around for a bit, finding Marc still asleep and snoring softly. You sit up in bed and find the source of the noise, seeing a crib in the corner of the room along the wall.
Oh, looks like Mel's awake. Who's Mel? You and Marc's baby daughter of course!
You get up, careful not to wake Marc since he dealt with her waking up and crying in the middle of the night. Walking over to her crib, you look down and see her look back at you with her cute little eyes. They look just like the boys', all big and doe-like.
You scoop her up and out of her crib and cradle her in your arms. You feel her weight in your arms along with her squirming slightly to get comfortable.
"Good morning," you softly coo, "How'd you sleep? Huh?" you ask her. Of course, she can't answer, but judging that she didn't wake up crying like she usually does when she's had trouble sleeping, she slept just fine. Mel's tiny hands grip your pajama shirt. "I see we want breakfast now," you comment in response to her grabbing.
You walk back to the bed so that you can be comfortable while you feed her, but when you're supposed feel yourself sit, you wake up.
The room looks just the same, say for the fact that Marc is in the act of getting up out of bed this time. "Oh shit, sorry, hun. Did I wake you up?" Marc asks. You shake your head and carefully sit up and look towards the corner where Mel's crib was, but there's nothing there. No crib or baby...
Right. You don't have a baby together. It was just another baby dream that you have occasionally. You feel a bit of weight in your chest at the fact that you and Marc's baby girl wasn't real. Even though she only existed in your dream for a moment it felt so real. Like you actually had her and took care of her.
You realize that you're starting to tear up and shake off the feeling. "Sorry, I just had a dream," you explain. "Do you want to talk about it?" Marc gently asks. You take a moment and then a breath. "We had a baby," you say, "That was it. We had a baby together and I woke up to her waking up and I held her for a bit before I actually woke up." you explain further. "It's a normal thing. I have dreams where I have a baby from time to time." you mention.
Marc just look at you for a second. You look towards him to see what has him so quiet. He has that look on his face when he's thinking about something and trying to choose his words. You let him do his thinking before he finally speaks. "Do... you want a baby?" he asks.
"Yes?" you say, unsure yourself. "I don't know. It's sort of a hormone thing, like baby fever," you say. "We've never really had that talk before, I know. So I don't know if you want to have kids," you mention. "Okay, but do you want to have kids someday?" Marc rephrases his question. "Yeah. I'd like to have a family with you someday when we're ready." you answer.
Marc nods. "Yeah..." he says, "I think that would be a good conversation to have sometime soon." he adds with a slight smile.
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heaven and Hell (Or: Eddie and Evil Woman Do… Prom?!)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x You
Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman are *checks notes* going to prom? Like normies?!
Contains: A high school prom, two nervous freaks, an ill-fitting wardrobe, an unfortunate zit, dancing, references to other E/EW fics nobody will remember, relentless teasing, a happy ending.
Words: 4.5k
"Prom's next month."
You stop playing with Eddie's hair and look down at the head lying in your lap in surprise.
He keeps his eyes on the TV. A blush creeps into his cheeks. Is Eddie Munson seriously thinking about going to prom? You fight a smile and start working your fingers through his hair again.
"Yup… that's what they said on the morning announcements."
Silence. No way he's that interested in the orange juice commercial you've seen ten times today. Eddie Munson is thinking about prom, and he's in the process of chickening out.
"You ever been?" you ask.
"Nah," he says, eyes still on the TV. "You?"
"Nah."
He bites his lip. You can't take it anymore.
"You thinkin' about going?"
He shrugs.
If you were a more patient person, you could poke and prod at him until he finally asked you. However…
"Well, if you were planning on asking me, you're too late."
He finally looks up at you, confusion on his face.
"I've rekindled my romance with Chief Hopper."
A smile spreads across Eddie's face.
"I'm sorry, Eddie," you sigh. "What we had was fun, but you just don't have the stamina. Sometimes a girl just NEEDS full night of porking."
You both snort at the same time, which leads to a fit of giggles.
When you recover, you brush his bangs out of his face. He sighs.
"So, uh…" He licks his lips while he tries to find his words. "If the bacon falls through, would you maybe think about going with me?"
You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. "Because it's kinda my last chance, and I know it's stupid, and it goes against everything I stand for, and it'll probably be miserable, and the music's gonna suck, and you probably have a way better idea of what we could do that night, but… ugh, never mind."
Eddie turns back toward the TV, shaking his head so some of his hair hides his burning face. You gently brush it back behind his ear, looking down at him with all the love in your heart.
"Eddie?"
"Hm."
"You're the only person I'd think about going to prom with."
"Really?" He looks up at you with an uneasy smile.
"Yeah," you answer, tracing the shell of his ear.
"We don't have to."
"I know," you smile. "I want to go with you." He smiles back sleepily. "But if I get Carrie'd, I can't promise I'll spare you."
"Kay," he chuckles.
"Mother?" you ask, hovering in the living room doorway.
"Daughter?" she responds from the couch, without looking up from her book.
You take a deep breath and stare at the floor.
"Ineedapromdress."
"What?"
You sigh and raise your head. "I need a prom dress."
Her book drops to her lap, revealing wide eyes behind her glasses.
"What did you just say to me?"
"I need a prom dress," you repeat with a roll of your eyes.
"Oh my god! I have a child who's voluntarily attending a school function!"
"What's up?" Gareth asks from behind you.
"They're going to the prom!"
You slowly turn and see him looking at you in amusement.
"Shut up," you order before he can even say anything.
"She's even gonna wear a dress!" your mother shrieks.
"Shut up," you repeat, glaring at Gareth's stupid smirky face. "Kay, I'm going to bed, open to shopping suggestions and financial contributions, good night."
You squeeze past him and make a mad dash for your room.
"They're all gonna laugh at you!" Gareth warbles in his best Piper Laurie impression.
"Shut up!" you repeat one last time, then slam your bedroom door.
"He's heeeere," Gareth announces as he passes by your bedroom door.
"You look perfect," your mom assures you.
She's been working on your makeup for fifteen minutes, and it's finally the way she wants it. And you have to admit… you look pretty damn good.
She'd taken you to the city for a day of shopping, and after several hours of hunting, you'd actually found a dress without puffed sleeves, ruffles, or tulle.
"Give me a minute, I want the camera on his face when he sees you," your mom says excitedly.
"Mother, it's a high school prom, it's not our wedding."
"Let me have this!" she whisper-yells. She grabs her camera and leaves the room.
You take one last look at yourself, stand, and slip on your shoes. Heels. You're even wearing fucking heels.
You walk down the hall and turn into the kitchen…
Eddie Munson is wearing a suit.
You'd offered to help him look for one, or find him something in the city, but he said he had it covered. And he did. He's even wearing a tie, and he's tamed his hair somehow. He looks freakishly presentable (for Eddie) and is holding what you imagine is a corsage in a box.
"Hi."
"Hey."
You stand there and stare at each other. Awkward. It's awkward.
"Eddie! Give her the corsage!" Your mom stage-whispers.
He tries to hold it out to you, but fumbles it and drops it on the floor. You both reach down to get it, and you hear a RIIIP tear through the kitchen. You both stand immediately, looking and feeling your outfits.
"Was that you or me?" you ask, trying to feel the back of your dress. You knew this fucker was too tight. But your question is answered when all the blood drains out of Eddie's panicked face.
"Let me see, honey," your mom says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him. The seam in the back of his jacket has ripped.
"Dude! You Hulked out on prom night," Gareth laughs from his seat at the kitchen table.
You give him a warning shush, and for once, he obeys.
"Slip that off, I'll have it as good as new in no time." Your mom helps Eddie out of his jacket and takes it in the direction of her sewing machine. You carefully retrieve the corsage from the floor and put it on the table.
"Uh… that's for you," he mumbles, the color returning to his face.
"Thank you," you smile, leaving the box closed until your mother can return and witness this sacred and not-at-all stupid prom ritual.
You turn to Eddie and lift a hand to run through his suspiciously tame hair.
"Don't look at it," Eddie mumbles.
"Don't look at what?" you ask.
"His third eye," Gareth supplies helpfully. That's when you notice the zit between his eyes. Eddie's face reddens so much that it almost blends in. Gareth snickers. You pick up a damp kitchen towel, ball it up, and throw it at him. It hits him in the ear.
"Don't you have some place to be?" you ask pointedly.
"Nope," he grins, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Mom's taking me to Jeff's after you leave."
You roll your eyes, reach for Eddie's hand, and pull him to your bedroom.
"Sit," you instruct, pointing at your desk. He drops into the chair with a defeated sigh. You start digging through your extremely elegant shoebox full of makeup, then realize what you need. "I'll be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.
You return with a cotton ball.
"What's that?"
"Wite-Out. My make-up's too dark for you," you joke.
Eddie's brow furrows, and you apply a dab of peroxide to his unfortunate growth. When it dries, you reach for the concealer.
"What are you doing?" he asks nervously.
"Covering that up."
He sits silently and watches you reach for this and that to cover his bump, and when you stand back and smile, he frowns.
"What's wrong?" you ask. "I can wipe it off if you want, I thought you wanted it gone."
"I feel like a clown," he grumbles.
"You are a clown."
He pouts. You point at the mirror, and he leans over to see his camouflage… and his jaw drops. You lean down until your head is next to his, so you can see what he sees.
"Witchcraft," he whispers.
"You know it, babe," you wink.
"One freshly tailored suit jacket for the young lad," your mom announces as she steps into the room. Eddie stands, and she helps him into it. She brushes her hand along the seam. "Good as new!" she declares. "But no break-dancing tonight." Eddie laughs.
After the official corsage and boutonniere exchange in the kitchen, you're marched into the living room for pictures. Each pose is goofier than the last, but you aren't allowed to leave until your mom finishes off a roll of film.
You both breathe a sigh of relief when the van doors slam shut.
"You still wanna do this, or do you wanna go get blazed and hide out at my place?" Eddie asks, probably about 40% joking.
"What time is it?" you ask. Eddie consults his watch and reads the time back to you. You pretend to consider it for a second, then shake your head. "Chief Hopper is expecting me in 15 minutes, and my little piggy does not like to be kept waiting."
Eddie snorts and starts the engine. Hawkins High Prom 1986 it is.
"Where'd you get your suit?" you ask a few minutes into the surprisingly awkward drive.
"George. The thrift shop guy. Told him I needed something prom-worthy. This was his grandson's. 'He's a lanky thing, just like you,' he said."
"It's nice," you admire.
"It's a little small, but… y'know." Eddie shrugs. "Price was right."
"Is it uncomfortable?"
"It's… a little tight," he admits.
"Baby, you don't have to wear stuff if it makes you uncomfortable."
"It's fine… as long as I don't have to move my arms much."
"Is it the shirt too, or just the jacket?"
"Mostly the jacket, the shirt's got some stretch to it."
"Ditch it."
"Ticket says jacket and tie required."
"Ditch it as soon as they let us in."
"This is why you're the brains of this operation," he mumbles as he pulls into a parking spot.
"Correct," you grin.
"Stay," Eddie orders, hopping down and scrambling around the front of the van to open your door. You're suddenly reminded of your first official date; he'd tried so hard to be someone else, but you didn't want someone else. You wanted Eddie Munson, and you wanted him just the way he was. You take his hand and slide to the ground, wincing as your heels hit the pavement.
"Is your battle armor in here?" you ask, nodding toward the back.
"Of course."
"Fetch."
Eddie smirks and walks toward the back, and you shut your door and follow him. He grabs his leather jacket and patch-filled vest, and hugs the pair to his chest.
You reach for them, and he hands them over. You separate the pair while he watches nervously, like you're separating conjoined twins that he personally gave birth to.
"Lose the child-sized suit jacket," you instruct. He tries, but gets stuck almost immediately. You muffle a laugh and step behind him to help him out of it, then slide his plain leather jacket on.
He looks more comfortable already. And considerably more Eddie-like. You go to transfer his boutonniere to his jacket pocket… but he doesn't have one. A bit of quick thinking and one rip later, his dumb little flower is attached with a strip of duct tape. You step back to admire him.
"There he is," you smile.
"Now he's gotta find his girl," Eddie says, "and then they can go do this damn prom thing."
You look down at your outfit and back at him, but he's already digging… through your overnight bag?
"Eddie, what--"
He cuts you off by slapping the soles of your favorite sneakers on the floor of his van.
"You've been wincing with every damn step since you walked into the kitchen. Lose the shoes."
You grin and sit down to swap your heels for sneakers. Sneakers that Eddie vandalized during a particularly boring assembly. It was one of the reasons why they were your favorites; the boy's a ballpoint artist. The other was--oh, that's nice. You stand comfortably and breathe a sigh of relief.
"You want a little liquid courage?" Eddie asks, shaking a bottle of liquor at you.
"Sure," you answer. You each take a swig in hopes of making your night a little more bearable. Eddie stashes the bottle in the van and slams the back doors shut.
"M'lady," he says, offering an arm. You take it, and walk toward the Hawkins High gym doors. Any time now, alcohol.
A cheerleader-in-training eyes you warily, but takes your tickets and lets you pass by her table into the gym… decked out in streamers and balloons. Wicked classy, Hawkins High.
"And you say I never take you anywhere nice," Eddie grins.
"I have literally, not once, ever said that."
Eddie laughs and takes your hand.
"Munson?!" a voice shrieks.
"Yeah?" he asks uneasily, turning to see Mrs. O'Donnell.
"What are you doing here?"
You look at each other, and back at her.
"Whatever people usually do at prom, I guess?"
"I'll have no shenanigans from you tonight, Munson."
"Wouldn't dream of it, O'Donnell."
"Don't even think about going near that punch bowl," she warns.
"Why, what's in the punch bowl?" he asks. You try to keep a straight face.
"Just punch, and that's the way it's going to stay. Isn't that right, Mr. Munson?"
"Yes, ma'am," he says innocently.
Mrs. O'Donnell looks you both up and down, sucks her teeth in disapproval, and walks away without another word.
"Like I'd waste good liquor on these ungrateful assholes," he mumbles. "Do have an emergency flask in my pocket, by the way."
"Aww, and I thought you were just happy to see me."
"That's in the other pocket," he winks.
"C'mon," you laugh, pulling him to the other side of the gym. Once you're in a quiet spot, you scan the room for familiar faces. You knew you were pretty much on your own - all of the other Hellfire boys were having a movie marathon and sleepover at Jeff's - but you thought you'd look for potential allies anyway.
"There's Nancy Wheeler," you notice.
"And the Elder Byers," Eddie points out.
"I think we're on our own, babe."
"Just how I like it," he grins.
"You gonna dance with me, or just stand here lookin' pretty all night?" you ask.
Eddie responds by flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically.
"C'mon," you smile, nodding toward the dance floor. He balks.
"This song sucks."
"Every song's gonna suck," you remind him.
"This one sucks more than average."
"Then how 'bout we visit the snack table and lay a curse on the punch while we wait for something that sucks slightly less?"
"This way, m'lady," he says nerdily, holding out his arm. You roll your eyes and take it anyway, working together to assemble a plate full of cheap snacks and two cups of unspiked punch. You retreat to the bleachers and pick at your bounty.
"So… this is a high school dance," he remarks.
"Yup… imagine, some people's entire high school careers revolve around this thing."
"I'd kinda rather be at home," he confesses.
"In our pajamas," you add.
"Watching shitty movies," he continues.
"Eating shittier pizza."
"Maybe fooling around a little?" He waggles his eyebrows and tilts his head toward the door.
"We went through a lot of trouble to get here, Edward. I went shopping. With my mother. You put on a suit. And a tie. And grew a stress zit."
"Shut up," he grumbles, hand instinctively touching the bump between his eyes. You lean in to kiss his cheek.
"Let's give it an hour. You've gotta dance with me at least once."
"Fine," he pouts. You feed him crackers, and he starts to relax a little.
When the opening chords of "Footloose" blare through the speakers, Eddie cringes. The people on the dance floor go wild.
"C'mon," you order, standing up and reaching for his hand.
"No."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not."
"Eddie Munson, you get your spastic ass on this dance floor with your dumb-ass classmates right now."
He whines, and looks… nervous? You sit back down, face full of concern. He scans the crowd, and you look too. Eyes keep darting to you. Not outright staring. Just keeping an eye on you. Like your whereabouts are a matter of public safety. You've been so focused on Eddie, you haven't bothered to pay attention to everyone else.
"It's just…" he starts, and then stops.
"Eddie?" you ask quietly, turning your head back to him. "This is our prom, too." You slide a little closer to him and hold his hand. "And I'm glad I'm here with you."
Eddie leans his forehead against yours and squeezes your hand.
"You think they're upset that we had the nerve to show up?" you smirk.
"Probably ruined their whole night," he grins. "Dear Diary, the freaks crashed prom."
"And ate all the fucking snacks," you laugh.
A flash makes you both jump.
"Sorry," Jonathan Byers smiles apologetically from behind his camera. "You guys were being cute, and Nancy demanded a photo for the yearbook."
"It's cool, man," Eddie grins. "Can we get a copy of that?"
"Sure," Jonathan nods. "They hired a professional photographer for portraits, by the way. Over in the corner. It's included in the ticket price."
"Cool," Eddie says.
"Anddd Nancy's waving me back," Jonathan groans. "You guys have fun tonight. At least some of the freaks should."
You and Eddie both chuckle as Jonathan goes back to Nancy for his next assignment, hearts in his eyes completely undermining his complaints.
"Well…" Eddie puffs his cheeks and blows out a breath of air. He's experienced all that prom has to offer, and is clearly not impressed.
"One picture, one dance, and we're the fuck outta here," you propose.
"Deal," he agrees.
You walk, hand-in-hand, over to the photographer's corner and get in line behind three other couples. Well, two. Kimmy Little sees you standing in line behind her, and drags her date off in the other direction. You and Eddie share a knowing look, but say nothing.
When the time comes, the photographer instructs you to assume the traditional prom photo position, and you do. You let Eddie hold you around the waist and smile like a total fucking jackass for several seconds while you wait for the flash. You and Eddie stumble away with spotty vision and hands tightly clasped. He's your lifeline, and you're not letting him go.
When your vision returns, you look from the bleachers to the exit. Is it really worth walking all the way back over there to sit and be bored, when you could just leave and have this lame night be over with?
Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" starts playing through the gym's shitty speakers, and you smile. You're a sucker for this one. Eddie looks at you with dread. He knows what's coming.
Silently, you slip backward into the crowd and pull him with you. He doesn't protest this time. He follows, eyes not leaving yours. The crowd must have parted for you. Perhaps there are advantages to loving the resident freak. You stand close and put his hands where they belong, and then yours. You stare into Eddie Munson's eyes and sway slowly to a song he tolerates, only for you.
You're glad you came. You're glad you're with him. You're glad this is the song you got to dance to. You're glad he made you swap your heels for sneakers.
But mostly, you're glad when the song is over, because you come together for a quick kiss and make a mad dash toward the exit.
"You son of a bitch," Eddie growls, trying to force his suit onto a hanger.
"Leave it, gremlin, I'll do it."
"Thank you," Eddie grins, throwing his suit on the bed and kissing your freshly scrubbed cheek. You'd washed off all your makeup and hair products together, had a little fun in the shower, put on pajamas, and smoked a joint to wind down. You were thrilled to look and feel like yourselves again. "I'm gonna go pop a pizza in the oven. Put something good on, I need to cleanse my poor ears of the top 40 garbage they were subjected to tonight."
"Yes, dear," you deadpan, hanging up your dress as he exits the room.
"Music!" he whines from the hallway.
"FINE!" you yell back. You pop in the first mix tape you find and turn up the volume. You force Eddie's suit on a hanger, put the formal-wear in the hall closet, and join him in the kitchen.
He's sitting on the counter, watching the clock and drinking directly out of a nearly empty two-liter pop bottle.
"You really know how to treat a girl," you smirk.
He burps in response.
You feel like you should roll your eyes or pretend to be annoyed, but you're so in love with this fucker, you find every dumb thing he does to be charming. You lean on the counter next to him, and he hands you the bottle. You take a swig, then pretend it's a microphone.
"I'm here with Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin, who has just been to his first and last school dance! Tell us, Eddie, how was the Hawkins High prom?" you ask, placing the open bottle by his mouth.
"Sucked dick, thanks for asking!"
"It did not suck dick!" you protest, slamming the bottle on the counter with a slosh.
"It sucked some pretty major dick," he argues.
"You got to spend time with the woman you love! In a formal setting! She wore a damn dress for you!"
"I like her better in pajamas."
"Only because I'm not wearing a bra," you scoff.
"Well… I mean, yeah," he says, hopping off the counter and taking your hands in his. "Don't get me wrong, the dress was great. Have deposited the cleavage situation in the spank bank, so thanks for that. But this is just… better. 'Cause this is us."
When you're right, you're right.
The opening chords of Black Sabbath's "Heaven and Hell" play through Eddie's bedroom speakers, and a wave of appreciation for where you are and who you're with washes over you.
"No bowtie-wearing jocks or frilly little bitches staring at us," you smile, sliding your hands to his shoulders and pulling him close.
"No restrictive clothing," he smirks, letting his eyes linger on your chest as he settles his hands on your waist.
"Eyes are up here, Munson," you remind him as you begin to sway subtly.
He looks up and grins. "Those are pretty okay, too, I guess."
You smack him in the chest, and he laughs.. and then his face falls.
"You tricked me," he accuses.
"How did I trick you?"
"This is our second dance!"
"Yes, but its to our music, so it's counteracting the pop-adjacent one at the actual dance."
"Ugh, fine," he pretends to cave with a roll of his eyes.
You keep dancing until the song starts to pick up, and Eddie looks at you with his eyes full of mischief. He starts moving just a little faster from side to side, swaying with the music as it builds. Before you know it, those spastic moves you tried to coax out of him at prom were coming out in his kitchen. You would have been perfectly satisfied to just watch him dance like a dweeb, but he grabs both of your hands and forces you to join him. You do so happily.
You dance, you spin, and you laugh together in the Munson's kitchen to a mixtape of Eddie's own making. It's the most fun you've had in weeks. Why did you spend so long stressing over prom? Prom was nothing. Prom was a bunch of rich kids in tacky, overpriced clothes that you'd be laughing at in twenty years. This is real. This is what you should be living for.
When the song begins to wind down, you and Eddie are nearly out of breath from all the head-banging and jumping around. The slow dancing resumes without complaint.
"I think this is the Heaven part," you observe.
"Huh?"
"Heaven and Hell," you say, looking up into his beautiful red face. His bangs are stuck to his sweaty forehead. His zit has lessened in intensity after a post-shower application of peroxide. His eyes are big and round and curious. This boy is perfect, and he's all yours. "Prom was Hell. Other people are Hell. This, right here? Me and you? This is the Heaven part."
Eddie's eyes crinkle as he smiles. He pulls you in close and crushes you in a hug. You squeeze him back and breathe in the calming, familiar scent of him. You love this boy more than anything.
"I love you," you mumble into his shoulder.
"I love you too," he responds. "Even if you did make me go to prom."
"This was your idea, fool," you laugh, giving him a backwards shove.
"Not how I remember it," he grins. He laces his fingers and holds them under his chin, bats his eyelashes, and continues in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like you: "'Oh Eddie my love, please, won't you take me to prom? It would be the highlight of my life!' Pretty sure you begged. Groveled, even."
"You are insufferable," you laugh, pushing him away from you.
"You're the one who made me go to prom!"
"You know, Munson, according to the pamphlets that everyone's been throwing at me all week, most teenagers have sex on prom night. But I think you're gonna have to get your ass kicked instead. C'mere."
"No!" he yelps, backing into a corner. "Please! I have children!"
"We don't have to share our pizza with them, do we?" you laugh, too lazy to engage in a play-fight with him.
"Pfft. No." He relaxes. "I wouldn't even share with you if I didn't have to."
Your jaw drops.
"I'm kidding!" he insists, coming forward to envelop you in a hug. You go rigid and refuse to hug him back. "I'm kidding. You know I'd save my last Fudge Round for you."
"Oh, really?" you smile, looking up at him.
"Eh… Nutty Buddy, maybe?" He screws up his face in concentration. "Nah. Oatmeal Creme Pie?"
"You are unbelievable," you scoff with a shake of your head.
"You love me anyway."
"Yeah, I guess," you sigh in defeat. "But please don't tell Chief Hopper. It would break his heart."
"Oh my God," Eddie groans, pushing you away and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
You cackle, and the oven timer dings.
This is definitely Heaven, but you've still gotta give him a little Hell.
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
one hell of a story
For @bucktommyweek prompt: alternate first meeting | 1.4k | Teen
Tommy's not usually one to fly for anyone but LAFD and himself, but the Skywitness News Eight helicopter desperately needed a pilot. He owed his old army buddy, Trent, a favor, which is how he finds himself trying to land a failing helicopter in the middle of a baseball field.
Unfortunately, he fails. But he meets Evan in the process, so it's worth it.
read on ao3 or under the cut
“This is Taylor Kelly with your morning traffic update… and we are going down!”
----
Tommy isn’t even supposed to be here. He’s not usually one to fly for anyone but LAFD and himself, but the Skywitness News Eight helicopter desperately needed a pilot and he owed his old army buddy, Trent, a favor. Tommy was too kind to tell him to fuck off, though, he’s pretty sure those two words will leave his mouth the next time he sees Trent’s face.
“Tommy, what’s going on?” Taylor shouts. She’s holding onto the seat belt around her like her life depends on it—and it does, but Tommy isn’t about to tell her that.
“Some kind of engine malfunction. Does Trent keep this thing in good condition?” Tommy asks.
“How am I supposed to know?!” He really hoped for a more confidence-inducing answer. “I’m pretty sure he likes this thing more than me if that says anything!”
“It does,” Tommy mutters, though he knows Taylor can hear him through the radio. Trent always talked about his crush on the redhead and how he would drop everything if she agreed to date him. Unfortunately, Tommy now knows he’s not exactly her type—no man is—so he thinks he’ll have to break the news sooner rather than later.
“Are we falling?! Why does it feel like we’re falling?!” Taylor screams, panicked gasps following in quick succession.
“I’m going to do my best to land, okay? There’s a baseball field below us, and if all goes to plan, we’ll land safely and you’ll have one hell of a story,” Tommy relays.
Taylor laughs humorlessly into the radio. “And if it doesn’t?”
“It’ll still be one hell of a story,” he declares.
Then he focuses on saving their lives.
The baseball field is immense and empty enough that he doesn’t have to worry about collateral damage from the landing, but he realizes quickly it won’t be that easy. Every single control he usually manipulates with ease shakes under his grip, and no matter how much pressure he puts on the cyclic, there’s no tilting his way in the right direction.
He gets the machine as close to the ground as possible and prays that’s enough.
All he remembers is the blades getting louder, a metallic screeching, and a terror-filled shriek, then everything goes dark.
“Tommy? Can you hear me?”
“I think he’s coming to!”
“Kinard, open those baby blues for us!”
When Tommy blinks to consciousness, he feels like he’s been hit by a truck.
“Nope, just crashed a helicopter,” an unfamiliar voice says. He sees the blur of a few hands reaching out to slap the man, and when he follows the arms, he thinks he must be dreaming.
“Wilson? Han?” Tommy’s voice is almost hoarse and he wonders how terrified Taylor was of his warning screams—
Taylor.
He jolts up as best as he can but Hen and Chimney hold him down before he can go too far. The pain that radiates through his chest knocks the breath out of him and he falls horizontal once more, clutching his stomach in pain. He breathes quickly and shallowly, as any attempts to fill his lungs result in sharp twinges of pain. Someone he doesn’t recognize—the voice from before—places an oxygen mask over his face.
“She’s fine. Not a scratch on her,” the man soothes. Tommy likes the sound of his voice. He stops trying to escape his old teammates’ grasp and instead, angles his head back to connect eyes with the unknown man.
He’s a boy, really. Looks at least a decade younger than Tommy, but that doesn’t stop the rush of attraction that seeps through him. The man’s hair is mussed up like someone has run their hands through it—Tommy wants to run his hands through it—and he’s wearing his turnout coat unbuttoned like the picture of casuality. Tommy’s not sure he’s ever seen someone wear the uniform with such confidence and such… sweetness. He’s squinting his eyes from the sun though Tommy still notices a few small pink patches surrounding his eyebrow that match the color of his unfairly kissable lips.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hen decides. Tommy knows he’s been caught when he recognizes the sarcasm in her voice. Hen’s always been an observant one. He can practically hear her eyes roll as she makes quick introductions. “Tommy, this is Evan Buckley. Buck, Tommy Kinard.”
“From Air Ops,” Evan says eagerly. Tommy’s stomach flips at the acknowledgment. How has he never heard of Evan before? “What are you doing flying with Taylor Kelly?”
“Slumming it with Skywitness Traffic, Tommy? I can’t believe I saved your life for this,” Chimney teases. Tommy smacks him on his nearest body part and takes the oxygen mask off of his face.
As if on instinct, Evan reaches to put it back, and their hands brush and linger.
Tommy hates to be cliche, but they’re lucky the ambulance doesn’t blow up when the sparks fly through the flowing oxygen. Actually, being touched by Evan Buckley seems like a hell of a way to go…
“Was helping out an old army friend,” Tommy explains. “Can’t let L.A. fall subject to bad traffic patterns, can I?”
Evan laughs, and Tommy’s stomach does a weird fluttering he hasn’t felt in ages.
“Guess you regret that favor, huh?” Chimney jokes.
“Not anymore,” Tommy mutters just loud enough for Evan to hear.
Tommy makes sure to maintain eye contact and only barely stops himself from winking at the poor kid. He’s blushing like crazy, redness spreading up from underneath his high neckline and overtaking his adorable cheeks. From the stillness around them, Tommy doesn’t think this is usual behavior, and he can’t help but feel a little satisfied about that. He chances a glance at Hen and Chimney who are both staring at Evan like he’s lost his damn mind. It takes everything in Tommy not to giggle—both because of embarrassment and the fact he might actually pass out from pain if he does.
“So, what’s the verdict, Evan?” Tommy asks.
The adorable man blinks a few times before glancing up at Hen and Chimney, who Tommy is very aware are the ones with the answer to his question. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy sees Hen gesturing for Evan to answer himself.
“U-Um, I’m sure you feel ten-tenderness in your ribs so that’s… gotta be looked at.” Evan shakes his head like he’s all too aware of his stammering, but Tommy couldn’t be more smitten. “You lost consciousness so H-Hen—she checked for any issues with your eyes but nothing abnormal. How’s your head?”
Without thinking, Tommy replies, “Would you like to find out?”
There’s a chorus of: “Tommy!” “Get a room!” “Jesus Christ!” “Oh my god!”
All of which are ignored by both of them.
Instead, Evan tilts his head and smiles—it would’ve knocked Tommy off his feet if he were standing.
“I think I just might,” Evan agrees.
“Oh, you two are made for each other,” Hen turns toward Chimney, “how did we not see that?”
“Buck likes guys?!” Chimney says instead. Evan blushes even deeper and Tommy’s glad that he’s not on a heart monitor for all to see it skip a beat. “No, I’m done with this. To answer your question, Tommy, you may have an acute head injury and you definitely have some broken ribs. We’ve gotta get you to the hospital so if you’re done flirting…”
“What if I’m not?” Tommy argues, just to rile Chimney up a little more. Tommy always enjoyed that—misses it, really. “What if I want to see Evan blush a little more?”
“Oh my god,” Buck mumbles. He hides his face in his hands, but Tommy can still see the smile lines between the cracks in his fingers. “Hen, get him out of here.”
“Got it, Buckaroo,” she agrees, shrugging at Tommy playfully.
“I didn’t get your number!” Tommy shouts as best as he can with presumably broken ribs. He knows they’ll hurt a lot more the second he focuses on them, but how can he focus on anything but Evan?
“118.”
With that, Hen shuts the doors and Tommy sighs the happiest sigh he can muster.
“Oh, he’s—” Tommy doesn’t even have the words, but Hen seems to understand.
“You’re in trou-ble, Kinard.” She clicks her tongue.
And Tommy’s never been so excited by the prospect.
(Chimney derails any further conversation with a line of consciousness that starts with, “Okay, since when do both Tommy and Buck like men?! How did I miss this?!”)
#bucktommy#kinley#evan buckley#tommy kinard#911 on abc#bucktommyweekend#buck x tommy#tevan#i hate tagging that pls stop making me#911#911 fic#bucktommy fic#my writing
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 12
Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour
La Cosa Nostra (Written w/ @janeyseymour) - Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11
Summary: Melissa's side business begins, and you begin to feel the heaviness of your situation.
WC: 2.3k
“Good morning, Tony.” Shaw greets the salon manager as he steps towards him and his partner. “Where's Y/N?”
Tony crosses his arms. “Takin’ a vacation.” He answers coldly. “You got more questions; you're gonna have to ask me.”
“Tony,” Danik sighs. “We've been through this before, haven't we? The first time we were here. You know how it works, how about you save us the time and call your boss down here?”
“My boss?” Tony echoes. After a moment he nods. “Yeah, sure. I'll call my boss for ya.”
The last time they were here, the agents had paced the front of the salon as they waited, eyeing everything they could in their search. Today, they stay in a corner, watching the few stylists and Tony at work. Danik is a moment away from asking Tony how long this is going to take when someone walks into the front from the back of the salon.
The man is tall. His dark hair slicked back on his head, shiny with the product used to keep it in place. He looks at ease, calm, as he approaches the agents. He flashes a smile when he nears, white teeth shown and his eyes crinkling at the edges with the motion. His hand is held out to Danik and Shaw individually.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Agents. I had to finish things up with my other business.”
“I'm sorry…” Shaw starts as he shakes the man's hand. “Who are you?”
The man chuckles, nodding. “Ah sí, sí, mi scusi. I forget myself this morning. Luca Bellino, at your service. I'm happy to answer any questions you have or walk you through the back again if you like.”
The agents share a look between each other.
“I think there's been some misunderstanding.” Danik says as she looks back to Luca. “We asked to speak with Y/N.”
Luca’s head tilts to the side, looking back at the confused looking agents, matching their expression. “Did you?” He asks as his brow furrows. “I was told you requested the owner.”
“Well, yes.” Shaw says, a bit slowly. “The owner. Y/N.”
“Ah, I see, I see.” Luca sighs in sudden understanding. “Please, come with me.” He requests, turning and leading the agents to the back office of the salon.
“You must not have been informed.” Luca says as he steps through the office, opening a drawer of the filing cabinet and pulling a yellow file folder from it before closing it once more.
He sets the file folder to the desk, facing the agents standing on the other side of the wood. Deft fingers open the folder, tapping the papers now visible. “You see?” Luca says, looking back up to Danik and Shaw. “I'm the owner now. The salon was signed over to me a few days ago.”
“Y/N sold the salon to you?” Danik asks as she's studying the forms in front of them.
“Sí.” Luca answers as his hands cross at the wrists to rest at his waist, his head nodding. “You've seen our books, no? The salon hasn't been as profitable in the last few months. Y/N tried to bring it out of the red but in the end it was safer to sell, especially with her little family to think about.”
“So, now you're going to try to bring the salon’s profits up?” Shaw asks.
Luca smiles, though this time it doesn't reach his eyes. “Do not tell the stylists, or Tony.” He says softer, leaning a bit forward. “I haven't had the chance to speak with them yet and I'd hate for them to learn from anyone other than me but I’m working out the details of shutting the salon down.” Luca sighs, looking for all the world like he wishes he had another choice. “It's just too much to turn around and the clients aren't coming in like they used to. It's the best thing we can do before it gets worse.”.
Danik raises a brow, but he relents.
The two agents head out, but not before Luca calls out to them, “Whatever you have against the Schemmenti family, drop it. They had nothin’ to do with Bobby’s demise.”
Your day is uneventful. You have nothing to do now that the girls are at school, Melissa is at work, and the salon is out of your hands. You mill around the house, doing as much cleaning as you possibly can before you groan and fall face first onto the couch, bored out of your mind.
You lay there for a few moments before you finally sigh and grab your keys. You make your way out of the house and towards Twelve Tables.
Melissa would say she’s shocked to see you when you come in through the back- but she isn’t. She knows how hard this is for you to not be involved in any of your work right now, both salon and other wise.
“Hi, my love,” you sigh as you pick up a knife and start chopping the broccoli next to her.
“What’re you doing here?” She just briefly glances at you before going back to her own work.
“I think I’m dying of boredom,” you tell her. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much time off from everything.”
“Would you mind chopping this up then while I attend to other business?”
“Other business?” Val asks as she makes her way out of the walk-in fridge.
“I have things to do in the office,” Melissa says, just a bit too quickly. “Scheduling, finances… I think we may need to look into other companies to deliver.”
You raise a brow, as does the manager, but you nod. You know that what she’s actually doing is trying to clean up the area in order to run your other business alongside this one. If you’re going to execute this, and execute it well, everything has to be in it's own place.
So, that’s what the redhead heads into the office to do.
“Melissa seems frazzled lately,” Valentina notes softly. “Is everything okay at home?”
You shrug. “I uh… had to sell the salon,” you lie through your teeth. “It hasn’t been making money, so… you know. She’s probably stressed over that.”
The woman hums, and for the rest of the time that you’re there until you have to pick up your girls you’re directed on what to chop, dice, slice, and grate.
Finally, you pop your head into the back. “Mel? I have to go pick up the girls. Are you coming with me?”
“Hmm?” Her eyes don’t even leave the new ledger that she’s creating. “I have to wait for the shipment to come in, so… I’ll be home for bedtime though.”
She isn’t. And your girls are beyond confused as to why the three of you can’t stop down at the restaurant for a quick hug and kiss from Mommy and why they can’t have coloring time with Valentina. You can’t tell them the real reason- you just explain that Melissa is busy.
“But Mommy is always busy, and we still always get to go there!” Rosie whines.
“Not tonight, sweetheart.” You sigh. You know you still could, technically, take them down to the restaurant. Just long enough to say goodnight. Except you can feel your wife glaring at you from across town if you did. Or worse, picture her having to keep her attention away from your girls because she's so busy.
It becomes a point of contention the rest of the night. Your girls both throw fits because they don't understand. Just getting them dinner fed has you stretched thin. By the time you're fighting with them about bath time you're feeling yourself begin to shake slightly. The girls’ attitudes and fits this evening aren't really what upsets you; it's just the last straw on top of everything else.
You just barely get them both towel dry from the bath when you tell them to pick out their pajamas. The one thing they don't argue with you on this evening as they get to choose their own clothes; one of their favorite things.
You kneel on the tile, letting the bath water out. One of the girl's towels still in your hand you lean to wipe up a small puddle. You toss the towel to the pile near the door to put in the laundry. You sigh, and instead of getting up you let yourself shift backward to sit on the bathroom floor with your back against the wall.
You bury your face in your hands as you try to stop the sudden tears from overflowing. You just need a minute, you tell yourself. Just a minute you'll let it happen and then you'll pull yourself together. Except you can't. You force deep breaths but you can't stop the tears still rolling from your eyes down your cheeks. You lean your head against the wall as you hear little voices calling.
“Mam! Mam!” It's both Cat and Rosie, steadily getting closer.
You really try to stop as you wipe your eyes. You don't want them to see you like this. Yet each swipe at your face just sees more tears filling your eyes.
“Mam! Look at my slippies! I did them on myself!” Rosie exclaims as she shuffles into the doorway, looking at her feet. She's wearing your wife’s house slippers. Backwards.
“Mam!” Cat is saying beneath her sister speaking, appearing at her side at the same time. “I don't have slippies! It's not fair, Rosie has slippies!”
You go to look up, but you hate showing any signs of weakness in front of your girls, so your head stays down as you attempt to pull yourself up from the floor. You lean against the sink, hands tightly gripping the porcelain sink, knuckles growing about as white as the utility in front of you. You keep your back to them, not wanting them to see you as the mess that you are right now.
“Girls,” you sigh shakily. “Mam cannot right now. Get yourselves to bed, and I’ll be in to read your story to you in a few minutes.”
“But Mam!” Cat whines out. You hear her stomp her little foot against the cool bathroom tile, and you can practically see the way that her arms are crossed over her chest- a look that she absolutely picked up from your wife. “Rosie has slippies, and I want-”
Wiping away your tears, you turn around. “Caterina Ann.”
At seeing your face so distraught and aged, both of your twins’ faces drop. “Mam?” They both ask.
“Mam just needs a minute,” you sigh softly, hating the way that your voice breaks just slightly. “Please, girls.”
At that, both of your girls slink off. Your oldest walks off while your youngest shuffles her feet quietly. You half-expect to hear her giggles at the way she’s heading down the hall, but you don’t. Even at their young ages, Cat and Rosie understand that your crying in front of them is not okay- something isn’t right.
When you find it in you to pull yourself out of the bathroom, you head for their room. When you get there though, they aren’t in their beds like you expect them to be. In fact, their pillows and the stuffed animals they insist on sleeping with every night have vanished too. That only means one thing.
You appear in the doorway of your own room, and you see them curled up in your bed. Silently, you thank God you had let your wife talk you into splurging and getting a king-sized bed. It comes in handy for nights like this when both girls worm their way into your bed and Melissa will be getting home and sliding in too.
“Mam,” Rosie pats the spot in between her and her sister. “We leaved room for you.”
Despite the sadness that had inhabited your soul just a few seconds ago, you let a soft smile slip at the kindness and thoughtfulness of your girls. You may not be doing everything right in this world, but you are raising two wonderful, wonderful young ladies.
“Give me a few minutes to change and prepare for bed,” you sigh softly as you wipe new tears from your eyes. “And then I’ll be in.”
It’s about ten minutes later, once you’ve gotten into your sleep apparel and shed a few more tears without the girls’ knowledge, that you slip in between them. Cat hands you a book- your favorite book to read aloud to them.
After their story, they both curl up into your sides and promptly fall asleep, tired from their crazy day in kindergarten.
And once they’re asleep? Your tears return. Silent sobs shake your body as you mourn the death of Bobby all over again, one that you never wanted in the first place- you had actually pleaded for them to not order the hit on the man. You bite your lip and let the tears flow over the fact that you’ve been taken off of the salon- that you have no idea what’s happening there now despite the fact that it’s only been a few days. You hate the fact that your wife is taking all of this on- that her restaurant is in danger now because you got the feds on your tail and don’t know how to shake them loose. Your heart breaks when you remember that Barbara is now in danger because she holds onto the ledger that determines your, and now your wife’s, fate, and she was still there for you in a moment of weakness at the church. It gets to a point where you’re just crying over it all, a hand clamped over your mouth as the sobs bubble up inside of you, and you have to muffle the noise or else you’ll wake your girls. You end up crying yourself to sleep, body exhausted with all of the emotions coursing through it like a river. You’re drowning- absolutely drowning in it all.
#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x you#abbott elementary fanfiction#la cosa nostra#collab fic
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
My kind of man.
(Based of this song but instead of a Matt Pov it’s a reader pov but when writing I almost immediately thought of this song)
Warnings/description: mentions of sexual interactions, Angst to fluff 🤷♀️. (Sorry for the no smut this time 😪)
Writing comp: @bratzforchris @nicksbestie
Word count: 2,010
Story elements tried to use/used: angst,fluff, Friends with benefits,home.
╒═══════✰°
I sighed staring down at my phone, 3 notifications from Matt.
We had always been friends and nothing more but recently things had taken a turn. We had decided to be friends with benefits, ‘no strings attached’ were his exact words.
The first few months were fine, we’d meet up, either go out or stay at home and at the end of the day we’d find ourselves out of breath, tangled in one another’s bedsheets. I couldn’t help but admit I always had a thing for Matt, I just could never find the confidence to tell him. It was sad to admit but I was scared of how he’d react.
I decided to talk to Kiara for advice, she had been my friend since before I could walk, I just hoped she was able to help. Unfortunately, she sighed pulling me in for a hug. “I’m only trying to help but from what you’re saying, it seems to me that it’s not just ‘no strings attached’. I can tell by the way your face lights up at Matt’s messages or when he knocks to pick you up, that must mean you feel like there’s a genuine connection.” As the words left her mouth, a few tears fell. “I hate how emotions always get the better of me.” I sobbed into her shoulder. “I know you do, I hate seeing you upset. I just want to help.” Kiara sighed softly, hugging me tighter. The rest of the day I couldn’t even bear answering his messages without bawling my eyes out.
That was the day i stopped doubting my feelings for Matt but I couldn’t relate when thinking about how he felt.
My attention was brought back to my phone buzzing, of course it was Matt. I answered the phone. “Good morning Mathew.” I huffed. “Morning, what you doing today?” He asked. “Literally nothing, why?” I replied, looking at my self in my bathroom mirror. “You want me to come pick you up?” He said. “Sure, give me at least ten minutes to get dressed.” I sighed, brushing my hand through my hair. I looked like death. “Y’know you don’t have to worry about clothes with me, they’ll just end up creased on the floor.” He joked. “I’ll see you in 10 Matt.” I replied ending the phone, taking a deep breath.
— I finished brushing my hair when I heard my door open. “Hey do y- you’re going to Matt’s again?” She muttered, closing my door behind her. I nodded. “I’m sorry ki.” I said, turning to look at her. “No need to apologise but you really need to talk to him about how you’re feeling. You tell me your happy but I know you’re not.” She added, rubbing my shoulder. My face dropping at her words. She was right, she was always right. My bottled up thoughts and feelings were making me miserable and driving me crazy.
Just as if Matt had known we were talking about him, my phone started ringing. “Right I need to go, I promise I’ll text you when I’m there.” I said, hugging her before beginning to walk downstairs. “Hey y/n, please talk to him.” She whisper-spoke, giving me a small reassuring smile. I nodded, rushing out the door so I wasn’t leaving him waiting.
— The car ride was silent apart from a little small talk here and there and the dreaded feeling that was in my stomach. I felt Matt’s hand move from the gear stick, toward my upper thigh. “You okay?” He asked, looking at me slightly before looking back towards the road. I gulped, trying to stop the feeling of the lump forming in my throat and nodded looking down at my finger nails that I had bitten the night prior.
After what had felt like an eternity, we had made it to Matt’s. I slipped out of the car door, walking straight through the front door as Matt also entered the house. I felt his arms slither around my waist as he placed his head in the crook of my neck leaving small kisses on my neck. He mumbled something incoherent. “What did you say?” I asked, pulling away to slightly glancing at him. “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled pulling my face towards his, our lips inches away from each other. I could feel his hot breath on my upper lip as the gap between us closed. At first it was just a soft peck but eventually it became a rough and passionate kiss, one of his hands made there way back towards my waist the other finding comfort in resting on the top of my bum. He pulled away places soft kisses down my face and up my neck as he whispered. “Should we take this upstairs.” Before returning his lips to mine.
Kiara’s words from earlier began playing on replay in my head. ‘You really need to talk to him about how you’re feeling.’ I immediately pulled away, Matt’s face shone with concern. “Are you sure you are okay?” He asked, looking down at me. “Uh- yeah I think I just need some more sleep or something.” I replied, rubbing my hand over my face, trying to play of the fact I could’ve bursted into tears if he asked if I was okay one more time. “Oh do you want to take a nap?” He said, running his hand through the back of my hair. “No it’s fine, I’m just going to use the bathroom quickly.” I said, ushering myself over towards the bathroom.
I couldn’t even tell him I’ve been having a bad day let alone a bad month, all because I just can’t seem to talk to him as I never planned on ‘catching feelings’. I pulled out my phone, messaging Kiara. She told me to stop doubting myself and just tell him. I looked in the mirror, recollecting my thoughts before walking back out the bathroom to be greeted by a confused Matt.
“Matt can we have a sit down and talk, like a proper conversation?” I asked, sitting down at his kitchen counter. “What about?” He asked, following me to the kitchen like a lost sheep. “Just sit.” I sighed, rubbing my hand on my thighs to calm my nerves. Once he had finally sat down I began speaking, the only other thing that could be heard was the sound of the rain hitting the ground outside. “I know this is all of a sudden and I’m sorry but I just can’t live with the pressure of not saying anything and I know we said no strings attached but this past month has been killing me and I just really needed to speak to you.” I ranted on, watching his smile drop. “I- uh- I don’t get your point. I’m sorry” He sighed, brushing his hand through his own hair. “You don’t need to understand Matt but I need to get this off my chest.” I said, taking a deep breath to try and stop myself from crying. I looked up at Matt, his face stayed straight with no emotion which made me bite my lip doubtfully.
Maybe this was a bad idea, I should have just stayed home.
I stood up from my seat. “Y’know don’t worry about it Matt I’m just going to leave and I’ll make my own way home so don’t worry.” I sniffled, trying to fight back the tears forming in my water line. “Wait why are you going.” He shouted following me. “Doesn’t matter. Please just leave me alone.” I said softly and with that I walked straight out the door.
The current rain immediately got me soaked and cold. I’m so embarrassed, I wish my feelings just wouldn’t get the better of me. The tears I had tried so hard to keep in eventually fell as I sobbed, walking a few meters down the street before looking down at my phone.
My teeth chattered as I unlocked my phone calling Kiara. “Kiara.” I said, looking at my phone screen. “Y/n are you outside in the rain, what happened?” She asked, clearly confused and concerned. “I tried to talk to him but I couldn’t bear hearing his reply so I walked out.” I replied, as my breathing became shaky and the tears fell once again. “Y/n I’m coming to pick you up, I’ll stay on the phone but try to stay out the rain so you don’t get a cold.” She said, as the sound of her rushing around filled my ears. “Okay.” I said, sniffling. “Right I’m going to leave now, do you want me to stay on the phone?” She asked, as I heard the door slam behind her. “If you wa-.” I began speaking but someone shouting my name caught my attention.
“Wait up!” Matt shouted, running towards me himself also getting drenched. My body trembling even more from the feeling of my cold, wet t-shirt and my damp hair sticking to my skin. “What do you want Matt?” I choked out, ending the phone and telling kiara I’d talk to her later. He looked down at me, pulling off his jumper passing it to me. “I don’t want your jumper, you’ve made it pretty clear of your intentions so leave me alone.” I spat, shoving the jumper into his arms. “C’mon y/n don’t be like that.” Matt spoke softly. “Matt i really don’t want to talk right now, I’ve already said too much.” I sighed, closing my eyes for a second. “Please just put on the jumper and let me speak.” He pleaded, passing the jumper back to me. “I’ll take the jumper then but I’m not interested in what you have to say.” I huffed, pulling his jumper over my head and on.
“Y/n just listen, I never wanted it to be this way if you had told me how you felt months ago I would have asked you properly.” He sighed. “Get to the point Matt.” I rolled my eyes, shoving my phone in my pocket and crossing my arms. “Y/n I wished you’d realise how much you mean to me, I love you.” He said, as I took a sharp inhale as the last words left his mouth. “Wh-what.” I said, finally looking up at him for the first time since he’d ran after me. The whole world stopping as I took time to reassess the what he had just said.
“I- I love you.” He sighed, running his hand through my hair. “I uh-.” I began speaking but before I could finished my sentence, I felt his lips smash into mine. “I really do love you.” He whispered into the kiss. I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck, his finding their way around my waist. The smell of a mixture of his cologne and the rain filled my nose as my heart skipped a beat, we had kissed many times before but this time it felt different. It felt genuine. It was as if the world around us had disintegrated, leaving just me and Matt.
I pushed my hand through his now wet hair as he pulled back, the feeling of his lips on mine disappearing. “I want to start over, not just a silly situantionship. I want an actual relationship with you, we can learn from each other and our past mistakes but only if you’d like to.” He said, putting his hands in mine. “I’d love to.” I smiled, nodding my head. The dull, dreaded feeling I had felt the past month had washed away as the rain poured. “Let’s go inside, can’t have you getting a cold.” He said, giving my head a quick, light and cold kiss as we walked back towards his house hand in hand. “I love you Matt.” I said looking to the side, up at him. “I know you do.” He chuckled, looking down at me.
I had Matt and he had me. He was all I could have asked for. It was a genuine connection. It really was love.
°✰═══════╛
A/n: honestly don’t know how to feel about this one as it was super short but I hope you all liked it and enjoyed reading — hugs and kisses Gracie 💋
Tag list: @junnniiieee07 @patscorner @mattyb4dominicans @watercolorskyy @brooklynn0103 @imwetforyourmom
#bratzfornick’s 141 writing challenge#matt sturniolo fanfic#mathew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#mattsturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#Spotify
61 notes
·
View notes
Note
Your ennemies to lovers prompts make me think so much about kacy during S1. I appreciate all of your Kacy fics and love the emotions you manage to create with your writing. I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a story that combines prompt 4 and 6?
It is an unspoken rule that when the DIA is involved in a case, Lucy needs to be kept far, far away.
At least, that’s how Jesse rationalizes trying to keep Lucy away from DIA Officer Whistler. He cites repeated complaints to Tennant (undeserved ones), numerous whisper-shouting matches in the halls (all Whistler’s fault), and ending in the middle of tense stare-downs more often than not (obviously biased). So really, it’s a no-brainer that Lucy indignantly ignores Jesse’s pleas and makes it her mission to give as good as she gets.
“Good morning, DIA Officer Whistler,” Lucy tells her sweetly this morning, having been waiting outside the elevator just to catch the briefly-perplexed, then immediately-annoyed expression on Whistler’s face.
“Special Agent Tara,” Whistler says curtly. “I was told I would be speaking with Agent Boone today.”
“He’s busy,” Lucy says. “Small mishap with his car.” (She’d let the air out of his tires, actually, just in preparation for today).
Whistler’s expression does not waver. “I’ll speak with Special Agent Tennant, then,” she says.
“Or,” Lucy says, following as Whistler begins to stalk through the bullpen, “you can discuss the case with me. I haven’t actually been briefed on why you’re here, but if you give me two minutes…”
Whistler comes to an abrupt stop, and Lucy nearly knocks them both over; Whistler has to grip Lucy’s arm just to keep her from falling on her face, and when Lucy meets Whistler’s gaze, she sees—strangely—a kind of uncharacteristic apprehension that Whistler never has. Whistler drops Lucy’s arm like she has been burned, and her voice goes quiet when she says,
“It really would make more sense to discuss clearance with your boss. It’s a time-sensitive matter.”
“Oh.” Lucy tries to hide her confusion, but it’s a halfhearted attempt at best; usually, the back-and-forth with Whistler is inevitable (and maybe even slightly thrilling). Whistler never just…gives up. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” Whistler says, already heading towards Jane’s office with renewed intensity. “Excuse me.”
Lucy is practically rooted in her spot, bewildered, and she watches as Tennant beckons Whistler inside before shutting the door. “Huh,” she says aloud. “Weird.”
“What’s weird?” Kai comes in carrying coffee, and he freezes in place as he, too, realizes what Lucy is looking at. “Damn. DIA’s here already? We haven’t even been briefed on the case yet.”
“Apparently it’s ‘time-sensitive’,” Lucy says, complete with air quotes and everything. “Think this means Whistler will actually give us something for once?”
“I’m not holding my breath,” Kai yawns, offering Lucy her cup before he wanders over to his desk. “Hey, where’s Jesse?”
(Lucy decides not to incriminate herself by answering that).
By the time Whistler and Jane emerge, both Kai and Lucy are pretending to be working and Jesse is just barely bursting through the doors. Jane doesn’t comment on either; instead, she waves her arms to get everyone together and begins her spiel about how they need to work with DIA and be a happy team or whatever. Honestly, Lucy is kind of tuning out the pep talk and is instead studying Whistler—everything about her body language screams discomfort, from the stiffness of her shoulders to the sharpness of her set mouth. And when she catches Lucy staring, all she does is quickly look away.
Weird.
Later, after they've been fully briefed and Jane dismisses them to do boring grunt work, Lucy tries to edge closer to Whistler and ask what exactly DIA needs to be here for. But when Whistler sees her coming, she makes a beeline towards Jesse instead, and Lucy is left frowning at their backs.
At first Lucy doesn't think too much of it. Jesse is probably handling the precious, redacted DIA files that point them to the possible suspects in this abduction case. But then, after Lucy is tasked with talking to their kidnapping victim's husband, she tries to be polite and ask Whistler if she wants to sit in. A gesture of goodwill, really, to make Whistler feel like she’s part of the investigation.
“Hey Whistler, do you want to get in on this?” Lucy waves her case file enticingly when Whistler emerges from the break room. “We can do a good cop/bad cop routine. Obviously we know who's who in that scenario, but if you ask nicely I might consider flipping you for bad cop.”
Whistler blinks at her. “What?”
“I'm going to interview Sergeant Nguyen’s husband,” Lucy clarifies. “Want to help?”
“That's not in my job description,” Whistler says, brow crinkling in deeper confusion. “And I have to go talk to Tennant.”
“Again?” Lucy asks this question to the empty space where Whistler used to be. Except this time, Whistler is not being invited into Jane’s office. No, Whistler is just walking away, and pretending to get a call so she has an excuse to exit the hallway.
In an instant, Lucy is pissed off. Here she is, extending an olive branch, and Whistler is acting like she's too good for it. Fine—if Whistler wants to avoid her, then two can play at that game.
Ernie patiently listens to Lucy explain all of this once the interview with the Sergeant's husband gets them nothing. “So that’s why you're hiding in here,” he guesses. “Because Whistler doesn’t want to fight with you like usual.”
“I'm not hiding,” Lucy scoffs. “I actually came here to discuss…” She lamely grabs the top file on his desk, flipping it open to the first page. “Timothy Summers. Hm. Yeah, I think he's our guy.”
“Great,” Ernie says. “So an arrest is imminent, then?”
“Oh, definitely. That's why I'm here…with you…for our next move.”
“And how does the fact that he's been dead for six months fit into this?”
Lucy pauses. “You couldn’t have just told me that?”
“It’s literally underneath his picture. Deceased.” Ernie jabs at the file with his finger, and Lucy smacks him with it. “Ow! God, you’re mean when you fight with your girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Lucy’s voice comes out several octaves higher than it should. “Why would you say that?”
“Uh, lots of reasons.” Ernie pops open a box of candy on his desk, offering Lucy a sympathetic red vine which she numbly accepts. “Everyone can see it. Honestly, I thought you two were going to start going at it on Kai’s desk the other day when Whistler broke the news that we were off the Dominguez case.”
Lucy’s jaw drops. “Because we were arguing?”
“Intensely arguing,” Ernie corrects. “Kai and I placed bets on who would kiss who first.”
“Are you serious? She hates me.”
“Does she?” Ernie continues chewing on his red vine before whispering conspiringly, “Or does she secretly burn for you?”
Horrified, Lucy ditches the candy; surely, that must be the reason she suddenly feels sick to her stomach. “Forget it. I’m going to hide somewhere else.”
“So you are hiding. I knew it! Hey, can you—”
Whatever Ernie wants, Lucy doesn’t stick around to find out. She decides she’s going to find Kai instead, see if he has any actual leads in the case.
Except she ends up bumping into Whistler again. Full-on body contact this time, even—Whistler jerks backwards, Lucy tries to jump into the wall, and really it's a wonder it doesn't end in catastrophe.
“I'm sorry, I…” Whistler trails off when she sees Lucy. “Um, Tennant said I had to talk to Ernie about Sergeant Nguyen’s finances. Is he here?”
“Yeah, he's in there.” Lucy gestures vaguely over her shoulder. “The tech-nerd talk is all yours. I need to go talk to...other people. About things.”
Whistler nods awkwardly, still waiting, and Lucy belatedly steps out of the doorway in order to head back to the bullpen. Okay, so, Operation Avoid Whistler is officially off to a bad start.
But when she catches up to Kai, he has a much better idea of how to spend their time, and it also guarantees Lucy can avoid Whistler perfectly.
“Sergeant Nguyen was last seen at a Vietnamese restaurant two blocks from here,” Kai says. “Do you want to go check it out? Maybe we'll get something the police didn't.”
Lucy’s spirits are immediately lifted. “Yes. I could go for a banh mi,” she says dreamily. “Ooh, and some spring rolls.”
“I'm…pretty sure we're not allowed to order food from our suspects.”
“We don't know if they're our suspects,” Lucy reminds him. “And besides, spring rolls never kidnapped anyone.” She pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
It ends up being closer to twenty minutes to update Jane on their next move, but Jane does give her blessing to investigate (and bring back lunch). Lucy has a pep in her step the entire way out to the parking lot, where…Whistler is standing.
Lucy notices her first; Whistler is facing the ocean, hand cupped above her forehead and frowning at something. She looks so serious—and out of place—that Lucy almost considers asking what’s wrong. Key word almost, because she is still on avoid-Kate-Whistler-mode, and she makes a mad dash to Kai’s car before Whistler can spot her.
Kai yelps when Lucy yanks the door open with, admittedly, a sense of urgency that is a tad unwarranted. “What—?”
“Drive, Kai,” Lucy demands, and he immediately starts up the engine, but he eyes her warily all the same.
(Unfortunately, Lucy makes eye contact with Whistler through the window as the car peels out of the lot, and she groans and sinks low in her seat.)
“What was that?” Kai ventures to ask. “Are you and Whistler fighting?”
“For once, no,” Lucy says. “She’s been avoiding me. So now I’m the one avoiding her.”
“Well did something happen?” The drive is quick, and before they know it, Kai is easing the car into a parking spot. “I know you two get…uh. Really passionate sometimes.”
“Because she hates me,” Lucy reiterates, feeling like a broken record at this point. “So I hate to break it to you, but you and Ernie are not going to collect on any bets related to kissing.”
Kai winces. “You know about that?”
“Yes, Kai, what the hell? I expect this from Ernie, but from you?”
“Any way I can make it up to you?” Kai asks weakly.
“Buy me lunch and we’ll talk,” Lucy says, and Kai—newfound meddler that he has proved to be—can at least follow instructions beautifully.
The restaurant turns out to be a dead-end case wise, but their menu is grand; they order too much food and bring enough lunch for everyone. (Even Whistler).
But when Lucy ever-so-casually mentions this, Jane just shrugs and says,
“I told her to stick around for you two, but she said she had to finalize some reports.”
“Wow,” Ernie says around a mouthful of noodles, “that’s dedication. Turning down free food just for work.” He pointedly raises his eyebrows at Lucy, who in turn tries very hard to glower at him with just her eyes.
“Good for her,” is all Lucy has to say about that. Jane gives her a curious look for the comment, but thankfully doesn’t ask.
“Hey, Lucy,” Ernie says suddenly. “I left my tea in the lair. Can you do me a favor and bring it to me?”
Lucy—still cradling her precious, half-eaten banh mi—has to do an actual double-take. “Why can’t you get it?”
“Because I have a cramp…in my leg…and you love me,” Ernie says. When Lucy stares back at him, unimpressed, he tries again with: “And I’ll owe you?”
“Fine,” Lucy sighs. “But you’re being so weird.” Suspiciously weird, even, but his scheming doesn’t click until Lucy is actually opening Ernie’s door and—“Oh.”
Whistler lifts her head at the intrusion, her stunned expression likely a mirror of Lucy’s. “Special Agent Tara,” she says.
“Whistler,” Lucy says slowly. “What are you doing in here?”
“Ernie said I could borrow his computer,” Whistler says. “DIA wants me here until we get a ransom demand, and I wanted to get some work done.”
“Ernie let you borrow his computer,” Lucy echoes. “Willingly?”
“Yes?” Whistler tilts her head questioningly. “Sorry, did you need something?”
Lucy knows she should be looking for Ernie’s tea. She also knows she should probably ask Whistler about it. But all that comes out is: “You know, we brought lunch for everyone.”
“Thank you, but I had lunch already.” Whistler glances back down at the computer screen, tapping away at its keys in a silent dismissal, and in an instant Lucy has had enough.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
The mechanical typing falters. “I’m not.”
“You’re working with everyone else on my team but me,” Lucy says. “That kind of feels like you’re avoiding me.”
“Maybe I felt like getting actual work done for once.” Whistler looks up again, this time with a deep-set frown on her lips. “And I wasn’t in the mood to fight.”
“Hey, you’re the one who fights with me!” Lucy argues. “Literally, from day one. You yelled at Jane about me in front of everyone.”
“Because you stole a sensitive report which you had no clearance for!”
“Actually, I read it upside down while you were talking about how I didn’t have clearance for it,” Lucy counters. “No stealing required.”
Whistler’s jaw clenches. “That is not any better.”
“But it means I’m not a thief. I’m just…you know, crafty,” Lucy says. “Come on, haven’t you ever bent the rules a little to break a case?”
“I don't break cases,” Whistler says flatly. “I protect intel.”
Lucy rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she snaps, exasperated, “you’re a saint and a better person than I am. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Are you—what is your problem? That is not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” Lucy lets the words hang between them in the ensuing silence. She doesn’t even realize that she has placed her hands on the desk in challenge—barely any space between them now—until Whistler is hastily standing up.
Even as tall as she is, Whistler’s voice comes out incredibly small. “Nothing,” she says finally. “Please forgive my…gross unprofessionalism. Clearly, I have overstayed my welcome.” She steps out from behind the desk without even bothering to close whatever she’d been working on, and Lucy sees red.
“Oh sure, just run away,” Lucy huffs. “Go ahead! Prove you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t been—”
“I’m sick of playing this game with you!” Lucy cuts her off.
Whistler doesn’t move an inch. “What game?”
Dammit. Ernie is most definitely in her head. What the hell; it’s not like Lucy has anything to lose. “The game where we pretend we don't like each other,” she says firmly. “You’re an asshole and I like to piss you off, but obviously there is something else here and I’m not crazy. This is—”
Honestly, in the back of her mind, the most Lucy expects is more denial. At worst, she expects Whistler to march out of the room and report her to Jane again. She certainly does not anticipate Whistler yanking Lucy in to kiss her breathless—just for a brief, dizzying moment—before pulling away.
Whistler tries to apologize, but Lucy doesn’t let her; she is once again determined to give as good as she gets (in a very different context). Lucy pulls Whistler right back in, grasping desperately at her face and stretching as fall as the tips of her toes will allow.
It seems to reassure Whistler in any case, who eagerly slides her hands along Lucy’s back and melts against her. Maybe it's the months of pent-up aggression between the two of them, or maybe it's the knowledge that Whistler is an actual human being, or maybe it's just the ghost of the faint touch of Whistler's fingertips underneath the hem of Lucy’s shirt, but the kiss gets really intense really fast.
Lucy debates sliding her own hand under Whistler's shirt—see if she is as serious in her bra choices as she is in pantsuits—but then Whistler flicks her tongue into Lucy’s mouth and she cannot possibly be expected to focus. It's intoxicating and exhilarating and…
“Wait, wait,” Lucy regretfully manages to twist away. “We can't do this.”
“Right,” Whistler says, nodding rapidly. “It would be a mistake.” She's clearly trying to school her features into her usual stoic demeanor, but her efforts are completely undermined by her kiss-swollen lips and the obvious flush on her cheeks.
“What? No, I meant, we can't do this here,” Lucy says. “You think it would be a mistake?”
“Not if…you don't,” Kate says, almost like a question.
“Are you seriously going to throw yourself at me but not even say what you feel out loud? I think you're addicted to fighting with me,” Lucy decides.
“I didn't throw myself at you, and—if anything, you're the one trying to fight with me!” Kate exclaims. “Every day I come in, and you're there trying to undermine me. I've been trying to keep my distance for both our sakes. Obviously our working dynamic is…less than ideal, most of the time.”
“I'm not trying to undermine you. I'm just trying to get you to loosen up a little maybe,” Lucy says. “Which…okay, might be annoying. So I get why you're an uptight asshole sometimes. No offense!”
Whistler frowns. “Some offense taken.”
“Oh, it's fine,” Lucy says. “The asshole thing is unfortunately very hot. Ernie may or may not have had a point.”
“What does Ernie have to do with this?” Whistler looks horrified now.
“Not like—Ernie and I don't sit around discussing how hot you are,” Lucy tries to save face. “He just suggested that we might…you know…jump each other at some point.”
“You're not making this any better.”
“Then forget Ernie,” Lucy says. “Take him out of the equation entirely. Do you also find me unfortunately hot?”
“I wouldn’t call it unfortunate,” Whistler says. “But. Yes?”
“Okay, so…” Lucy trails off. “What are we doing here, Whistler? Do you want to walk out of here and pretend this never happened?”
“No.” Whistler steps forward hesitantly. “That’s not what I want. I…I like you, Lucy. And I know this would completely ruin our working relationship, but—”
“Shut up about work,” Lucy says, dragging Whistler back in for another fervorous kiss, delighting in the fact that Whistler certainly isn’t fighting her now.
(Lucy’s phone buzzing, however, does effectively kill the mood.)
“What is that?” Whistler is instantly back into work mode, smoothing her hair haphazardly as if someone is about to walk in any second. “Is it about the case?”
Lucy unlocks her phone with bated breath. “Maybe we finally have a ransom call,” she says, before the familiar face in her text messages proves otherwise. “...nevermind, it’s just Ernie. He wants to know if we’ve ‘kissed and made up’. I’m going to tell him we’re going to have sex in his chair.”
Whistler half-coughs, half-chokes. “Are we?”
“Obviously not,” Lucy says. Then, thoughtfully: “But I’m technically still on lunch. Did you drive here?”
“Yeah, I have a company car,” Whistler says. “Do you have another lead?”
“No, but I do have thirty minutes to spare,” Lucy says cheerfully. “Get your keys. We’re totally going to have sex in your company car.”
Whistler turns very, very red. “I…don’t think my boss would like that.”
“Fine, then we can make out in your company car,” Lucy amends. “But you’re going to have to leave first. Kai and Ernie have a bet going about us, and I don’t want either of them to win.”
“Your team has a strange obsession with your love life,” Whistler tells her matter-of-factly.
“Eh, could be worse,” Lucy says. “Jane could get involved.”
Whistler—marginally disheveled—manages to crack a smile. “Let’s not let it get that far,” she suggests, brushing one final kiss against Lucy’s mouth with a resigned sigh. “So…are we keeping this between us for now?”
“I guess so,” Lucy says begrudgingly. “Think you can keep on fighting me in front of everyone?”
Whistler shrugs. “Are you going to keep being an asshole?”
“Wha—hey, no fair! You’re the asshole. I’m the good-meaning, happy-go-lucky agent who just wants to keep you human,” Lucy says, poking at Whistler’s cheek until her smile grows even more.
“Challenge accepted,” Whistler says, smoothly tucking a strand of hair behind Lucy’s cheek before casually making her exit.
Lucy places her hands on her hips and wistfully watches her go. This day has gone absolutely nowhere she expected it to, but dammit, she can’t be mad.
(Especially when her phone buzzes again with another text from Ernie. All it says is: NOOOOOO 😭).
#this is essentially a re-imagining of s1#where kate & lucy first met on the job and just hated each other from day one and ofc the tension is off the charts#kacy#kate x lucy#ncis hawaii#ty for the prompt!! these two in an enemies to lovers scenario 100% eats ngl#i need a fic tag
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stay as Friends
Jeong Yunho x F!Reader
Moving on from Yunho is slow but it's sure.
"Aren't you coming with us?" Your colleague asked. You've been working non stop since you got back from your trip in Italy. It was fun and it finally brought you the peace that you've always wanted to experience.
It wasn't like you were going through a break up or what. You and Yunho weren't even official. There was no label, really. It's just complicated. You're just really grateful on what relationship you both had and cherished it. Yunho may have enjoyed that simple-no label relationship, well you did too, until you fell. Hard. You took it upon yourself to distance yourself from him. And though it hurts, you made through it.
Still, there was a bitter taste in your mouth when you saw how Yunho adjusted to that so well. There were many times that you passed by each other in the hallway where you would avoid his gaze but he would smile at you.
Or sometimes be in the same elevator, unexpectedly, in which he would greet you hello and ask you how your morning went. You would always answer with a simple 'good' then that's it. You would stand there like a pole, not moving or talking until one of you has to leave.
Who are we kidding, you've told him many times that it's not his fault, and will never be.
That was about 8 months ago. Your last day at KQ was the beginning of your getaway to Italy. Honestly, you don't know what Yunho has been up to these days. Last time you heard, Ateez has been busy for their overseas schedule and preparation for their next album.
Other than that, you don't really know what's going on in his life. There were few posts from Ateez's instagram that you'd scroll by but that's it. Nothing deeper than pictures they show on their social media account.
"I don't get what you two have." Mingi said referring to you and Yunho, while looking out the ocean. Yunho and Wooyoung were too busy trying to throw each other in the water, laughing and wrestling.
KQ's CEO decided to treat Ateez and the staff to a trip in Jeju. Every one has been working hard and because of the many success of their hard work, Jeju trip it is.
Ateez were rarely recognized here, which in times like this, is really important. They get to walk around the neighborhood and even go to food markets. Sometimes, people got curious if they are celebrities because of their stylish outfits, but none of the members really dare to mention of them being idols.
You can only guess that they also want to make the most out of this break. You're sure Ateez knows that by the time they go back to Seoul, it means back to work.
"We don't have anything." You replied after a long silence. Yunho was able to throw Wooyoung into the water but Wooyoung grabbed his shirt, dragging him along. You can hear their laughter all the way from where you and Mingi are; just a small cottage to keep you off the blazing heat and serve as a shed.
The other members are still in the house, resting from the insane long ferry ride.
"So... The holding hands, having lunch and dinner together, sleeping in your house, ordering take-outs for each other is 'nothing'?" Mingi snickered.
You shrugged your shoulders. You don't even know what you and Yunho have. None of you has ever confessed, and none of you tried to initiate the conversation on what your relationship really is.
"I really hope this all works out for you." Mingi suddenly said. He stood up and picked up his phone.
Right... The only reason why he's not sleeping now is because he wanted to catch the sunset and take pictures. The sky is slowly fading from dark blue to an orange hue with tints of pinks and purples.
"I know you like him Y/N. I can't tell if Yunho feels the same way, but I'm sure he'll understand better if you say something." You watched Mingi took his strides, his figure getting smaller and smaller from your sight.
And just like that, your eyes flickered back to where Wooyoung and Yunho was supposed to be. You were slightly taken back seeing Yunho already looking at you. You smiled and gave him a small wave.
He waved back at you, but before he could say something, Wooyoung appeared behind him and dragged him back into the ocean. The corners of your mouth turned up at the two goof balls in the water.
Wooyoung's loud yapping and Yunho's protests was all you can hear, completely shutting out the voices of people passing by and the harsh gusts of the wind.
"What's your instagram again?" Yunho furrowed his brows, trying to remember the username you mentioned a few hours ago.
"star_light.0823" You rolled your eyes.
"Star... light... dot. Zero-eight-twenty three." You watched him, sprawled in your couch like he owns it, typing away your username.
"Shocking. You're not private."
"No one would follow me anyway, except for my friends so..."
In just a few minutes, Yunho has reached your posts from way back in high school. You both laugh at some of your ridiculous heavy filtered selfies and landscape photos. Even the pictures that you've long forgotten were suddenly brought back to your memories.
"And this?" It was a photo of you holding a pepero and a bouquet of fresh flowers.
"Well, what can I say, I'm pretty and I'm popular in high school." You whipped your hair boastfully.
"Uh huh." Yunho teased. "How many peperos are these? Let me count."
"Yah!" It was clearly seen on the picture that there are only 2 boxes. The living room was filled with laughters and high school stories that whole afternoon. Both of you sharing different yet fun experiences from years ago.
"Yunho, thanks for being here with me."
"Hmm?"
"Whatever this is," You started, "I mean, I hope we could be as friends for as long as we can."
"I'll always be here for you when you need me, Y/N." He assured, and in that moment, you were satisfied. There was no label needed. Your loyalty for each other is enough to keep it.
"God, I hate it here." You mumbled under your breath. Big or small, it was dumb for you think that all agencies work the same. YG Entertainment being the bigger one, doubles the workload that you used to have in KQ. Not to mention the management were astronomically different.
If back then in KQ you can interact with artists just fine, here in YG, they are stricter. You're not allowed to talk too much with the artists unless they chat with you. Not that you're planning on getting close with the artists anyway. You already know how that turn out the last time you got close to one.
Your phone vibrated with a text message, prompting you to look. A groan escaped your lips as you were reminded of the piling folders of today's work.
I did put this phone over here so I can remember every thing I need to finish, You thought.
Expecting an urgent message from your boss, your eyes almost rolled at the back of your head when you saw that it was from your colleague and long-time friend, Jia.
Jia
Jaebeom wants to say hi to you.
You
This is the third time.
Not interested.
Jia
Boo. Single.
You poked your head from your cublicle and look for your friend. You were not surprised seeing her holding her phone, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You raised your brow back and all she did was stick her tongue out at you.
Jia
Boo! Still stuck on that Ateez guy :P
You chuckled. Sometimes it really does cross your mind whether telling your friend about Yunho was a great idea.
You
Nope, Italy changed me.
Who's that Ateez guy again?
Jia
Sure sure. Jeong Yunho
You look up from your seat, watching how your friend giggle at her reply.
You
What a real friend you are, bitc--
Jia
Jeong Yunho :P
Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile at your friend's childish behavior. Well, at least the mention of his name doesn't make you want to curl up in ball and cry like they used to. You're getting there, slowly but surely. Maybe one of these days, you'll have the guts to reach out to them again.
Even after every thing that happened, you miss their unpredictable funny moments and that familiar melody of Yunho's laugh. And maybe, just maybe, get to know each other again.
"So, you did confess?" Jia's eyes went round. "Holy shit!"
"Uhuhm." You hummed in agreement.
"And then what happened?" Jia scooted closer, nudging your shoulder at the same time.
Your heart was pounding and your mind is clouded. You're not really sure if this is the right thing to do. Honestly, you blame the book that you read last night. Something along the lines of regretting the chances you didn't take and you wouldn't see it unless you try.
The concert ended about an hour ago and you asked Yunho to meet with you at the private parking lot before you part ways. You were blowing on your freezing hands when Yunho appeared.
You both said your hi's and hello's, and for some reason, Yunho's face is flushed and his eyes are beaming. "I also want to tell you something."
You gulped, you want him to go first. Before you could tell him, Yunho started excitedly on his speech.
"Remember that girl from weeks ago?" The idol trainee, yes. You uncrossed you arms and let him continue. "Well, she attended the concert tonight and..." Yunho is practically bouncing on his toes at this point. "...And she said, hear this, I was her favorite." He was glowing like the morning sun.
"Oh..." You bit your lip. "That's really good to hear."
"Right? I think I like her, too."
Late. That's all you could think of: You're late. You relaxed your breathing and forced a smile on your lips. "I, uh..."
Yunho's eyes narrowed at you. "Something wrong?"
You shook your head, "Nope."
"Well actually," You bit the insides of your cheek. "I like you."
Every thing then was a blur. Yunho spurting words of sorry's and apologizing. He was holding your hand when he did, but you assured him that it was okay. And that this is not his fault.
You were even able to throw a line of someone being better. There would be someone out there better. It was more of a comforting word to yourself, than a joke you told Yunho.
He laughed and agreed, "I'm sure you'll find him."
"Of course, I will. Duh. Remember those peperos in high school? Psh."
"Wow, I can't believe you're a martyr, Saint Y/N." Jia teased with humor.
"What can I say, this is me." You responded.
You were staring at the series of pictures you've recently posted on Instagram. Starting from the mess of your kitchen after you and Jia baked cookies, to the mini clips in between of Jia mixing and fooling around, and finally the baked cookies. You made sure to include the first batch which was half burnt.
jiaaaaaa_
dare i say, i'm the best baker
Jia's comment was at the top, with a couple of your friends that sarcastically said it's the best looking cookies they've seen in a while.
You were about to exit the app when another notification popped up.
yu_yu.0323 liked your post
yu_yu.0323 commented on your post
You can hear your heart beating from your chest. Of course, he doesn't have any profile picture on nor any info on his profile at all. But that username is and will always be familiar to you.
Absentmindedly, you clicked on it.
yu_yu.0323
the most peaceful cookies i've ever seen tbh :))
Yunho was defintely referring to the failed cookies which was either burned to crisp or the cracked ones. You don't know whether to ignore or reply even with just a simple emoji. It doesn't seem wrong to acknowledge his comment anyway.
star_light.0823
@yu_yu.0323 they really were. just not sure about it having a 'peaceful' taste.
You closed the app after that. Maybe it's better this way. No need for complicated things, just two friends interacting on social media.
You really do wish you would've just met now, though. This version of you is your best version. That version of you was a scared little girl. You would've told that girl to not run away and face it; it's okay to face rejections.
Someday, maybe you and Yunho will cross paths again. And maybe by that time, things would turn out better than it did.
[Unedited. Not yet proofread]
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez imagines#jeong yunho#jeong yunho ateez#yunho#ateez yunho#yunho x reader#yunho imagines
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Accidental CI
Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader
Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.
Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!
Word Count: 3.1k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.
“How was work?” he asks.
“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”
“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”
“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”
You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.
“No injuries?” you ask softly.
“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”
“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”
“What do you think caused it?”
“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”
“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”
Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.
Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.
“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.
His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.
“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.
“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”
“CI?” Chris guesses.
“No. She might be willing to help, though.”
“Call her,” Hondo says.
Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”
Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.
“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.
“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.
“May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”
“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”
“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.
“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”
“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”
You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.
“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.
“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.
“How do you know something is going on?”
“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”
“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.
You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”
“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”
“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”
“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.
“Can you come down here?”
“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”
“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.
“Anything for you.”
You hang up and gather your things before standing.
“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.
“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”
“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”
“Thanks, Nola.”
When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-
A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.
“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.
“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.
Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.
You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.
“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”
“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“
You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”
Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.
“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”
“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”
You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.
“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”
You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.
“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.
“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”
You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.
“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.
“Sounds good,” he agrees.
“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.
Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.
“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.
“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.
Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.
“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.
He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”
You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”
You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.
“You got this,” he promises.
“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”
His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.
“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.
Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.
“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”
“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”
“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”
You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.
“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”
“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.
You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.
“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.
You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.
Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”
As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.
“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”
Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.
“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.
You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.
“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.
You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.
“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.
“We did. Are you okay?”
Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.
“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.
“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.
Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.
“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” you promise.
“Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.
You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.
Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.
“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.
You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”
“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”
You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”
“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.
“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.
“I didn’t?”
“Not if you take your chance right now.”
Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”
“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.
“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”
Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”
When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”
“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.
Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.
“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.
“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.
You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.
“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”
You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”
“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”
You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”
You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”
Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”
“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.
“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”
You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.
#hanna writes✯#david deacon kay x reader#deacon kay x reader#david kay x reader#deacon kay fluff#david deacon kay#deacon kay#fem!reader
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
all of me
part three of the bad idea series - part two
boyfriend! chris sturniolo x reader
summary: reader loses her cat and chris is with her always and then they go out on a date to distract her from the grief.
warnings: swearing, mentions of death, loss of a pet, pet names (baby, mama, sweetheart).
a/n: this song is so fucking good dude 👩🍳🤌💋
READERS POV
i drove to chris’ house in tears. my cat, annie had passed away. she had been my birthday present when i was 5 and i loved her unconditionally.
after i pulled into his driveway i practically ran to the door, knocking on it.
“hi ma- woah what’s wrong?” chris asks when he sees the state i’m in.
“annie passed a-away.” i hiccup, tears still falling down my cheeks.
“oh baby.” chris says, his face softening. he grabs my hand to pull me inside and he brings me down to his room. he quickly pulls me into him. my arms go around his torso and i hide my face in his chest.
after calming down i sit up. we had moved to sit on his bed so we could be more comfortable.
“i’m sorry i meant to shower before i came over here but i needed to see you.” i tell him, apologizing for my appearance.
“don’t apologize. even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too.” he comforts, pulling me back into him. my cheeks flush red, but luckily since my face was now in his neck he couldn’t tell.
2 weeks later
it’s been two weeks and i’ve been slowly feeling better. chris had been with me every step of the way. grief is always hard, even for animals.
me and chris we’re currently sitting on his bed. we were both silently scrolling on our phones, the sound of tangled playing in the background.
“mama?” he says, grabbing my attention.
“hm?” i hum, letting him know that i’m listening.
“i planned something for us later.” he tells me. i furrow my brows and turn off my phone.
“what’d you plan?” i ask, tilting my head to the side to show my confusion.
“it’s a surprise but you should be ready by 5:00.” he says, attempting to hide his smirk but he wasn’t doing a very good job.
“okay i will be.” i smiled softly.
i started getting ready at 5:00. it didn’t take too long since i had showered this morning so all i had to do was my makeup and get dressed. at 5:25 i walked out of chris’ bathroom to see him sitting on the edge of his bed.
“you ready?” i ask, putting my makeup bag on his gaming desk.
“woah, you look gorgeous.” chris compliments and i smile.
“thank you chris.” i blush.
“let’s go then, yeah?” he asks and i nod. “okay i’m gonna put the directions in your gps.”
“okay good because i don’t trust you to give directions.” i giggle softly as chris playfully looks offended.
“the beach?” i ask softly, putting my car in park.
“yeah come on.” chris said, getting out of the car. i quickly follow him and we walk down the beach.
“so i had matt, nick and madi all help me with this.” he says as we walk up to madi sitting on a blanket with snacks.
“hi madi baby. what’s happening?” i ask as madi stands up.
“someone had to sit with the blanket.” she smiles, hugging me.
“goodluck.” she whispers as she walks away. chris motions for me to sit down, as he sits down himself.
“me and matt went to the store yesterday and got all your favorites. him, nick and madi set it up earlier.” he explains, answering my questions before i could answer them.
“this is adorable. i want to cry.” i giggle softly.
“don’t cry. this is to make sure you don’t cry.” chris tells me, kissing my head.
“this is beautiful, chris. thank you.” i smile at him, grabbing the bag of watermelon sour patch kids.
“anything for you.” he says softly.
“okay so i do want to talk real quick.” chris tells me, causing me to sit up.
“i’m all ears.” i say, crossing my legs.
“i’ve liked you for a long time. like years. it feels very unreal that you’re mine.” he spoke, pausing and thinking for a second.
“not mine yet.” he corrects. i knew where he was going with this, and i already had my answer.
“okay let me get to the point. i really like you and i think you like me. so i was wondering if i could be your boyfriend?” he asks hesitantly. i knew he was nervous.
“yeah but only if it means i can be your girlfriend.” i giggle softly. he lets out a breath of relief.
“oh thank god. you have no idea how nervous i was.” he admits. i quickly pull him closer to me and kiss his lips.
“no more nervousness. come on, let’s have fun.” i tell him, standing up and running towards the water.
“wait you don’t have a bathing suit!” chris calls.
“who cares!!” i shout, running into the water and diving in once it was deep enough. when i resurface i see chris staring at me.
“you gonna join me or just stand there?” i ask, laughing. he shrugs and jumps into the water. me and chris playfully splash each other, nothing but smiles on our face.
a/n: i hope this lives up to the expectation because i know a few people wanted multiple parts. here’s the last one and i hope you love ittt 🫶🫶
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo fandom#sturniolo x reader#spotify#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#nicolas sturniolo
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
Soulmate au + married to the job 🤭
Here you go!! Hope you enjoy :)
—
George massages his forehead.
“Is it getting worse?”
“Yeah.” He answers Alex. “I can’t believe that man is doing this to me.”
Alex snorts. “You can’t believe Lewis is staying behind to go over data and not notice that he has a headache?”
“It was a figure of speech, Alexander.”
They are quiet for the rest of the walking distance to Ferrari.
Charles walks through the door, his eyes glued to his phone.
“Charles.” George calls.
The Monegasque jolts, a shriek escaping him. The edges of George’s mouth curve up while Alex laughs next to him.
“Don’t do that,” Charles says. “You scared me. And stop laughing, Albono.”
“It was funny. Did you hear the sound you let out, mate?”
Charles pouts. Alex steps forward and kisses it away.
“Alright, knock it off,” George says. “No need for PDA.”
Alex pulls away from the kiss and rolls his eyes. “You cannot be talking. You and Lewis are worse.”
“Which reminds me…,” Charles chimes in, “good timing. I was gonna just call you.” He shakes the phone in his hand. “You need to get Lewis out of here. Your man doesn’t want to leave the room. He has been there since morning. I don’t think he even moved once.”
Alex whistles. “No wonder your headache was so bad.”
“Where is my man?” George questions.
“You have a headache?” Charles answers his question with a question.
“Yeah. So where is the reason for my headache?”
“Come on. I’ll take you there.”
George and Alex follow Charles through the Ferrari facility until he stops in front of a room and pushes the door open quietly. George steps into the room and closes the door behind him.
Lewis is sitting in front of a computer. A very shirtless Lewis.
Now, look, George might be here on a mission but that doesn’t deter him from appreciating the tattoos adoring Lewis’ back, especially when his muscles flex.
“As much as I love this sight—”
Lewis spins around in his chair, his eyes widening before he realises who it is.
“—I would love it even more if it was at home.”
“George?” Lewis frowns, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I reckon I should be asking you that, mate.” George approaches Lewis and comes to a stop right in front of him.
Lewis places his hands on George’s waist as he settles on his lap. The chair creaks under the weight of both.
“I know you’re married to the job but you’re also married to me,” George continues. “And I would really like to be home right now with my husband.”
“What are you talk—” Lewis cuts himself off and reaches behind to grab his phone. “Fuck! I didn’t notice the time.”
“Yeah, clearly.”
“Should I be worried about how calm you are?”
George presses his thumbs into Lewis’ temples, earning a groan first and then a sigh with a shut of eyes.
“I can get mad after we do something with that headache.”
“How did you—” Lewis’ eyes fly open. “Is your head hurting?”
“Terribly.”
“Shit! Sorry, I can—”
“Finish that sentence and I’m already telling you right now that we won’t be having sex for a whole month.”
Lewis knows how much George hates it when he closes off their soul bond, even temporarily. George despises it.
“Right, sorry.” Lewis clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
George softens. “How about you make it to me by coming home and sleeping it off?”
Lewis smiles, stealing a kiss from George. “Yeah, I can do that. Let’s do that.”
George slides off Lewis’ lap and extends his arm, pulling Lewis up when the older man puts his hand in his. “Let’s go home, my love.”
—
Mash-up trope
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Poker face
A/N: i wanna write a death note fic....
Pairing: Husband!Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader
Content: You husband, Fyodor, doesn't tell you much about himself. He says that his stories will just bore you, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of murder, fyodor is a warning in itself😭
Words: 521
Oneshot under cut!
Fyodors eyes met mine from across the table, his cold gaze never leaving me even as he reached for his glass of wine and took a long sip. I watched his adams apple bob up and down with each swallow, the red liquid slowly disappearing from the glass. Our staring contest continued as he placed the glass down, leaning back in his chair resting his hands comfortably in his lap.
"How was your day, dear?" There was a smirk in his voice, even if it didn't show on his face. He didn't need to ask, he knew. He always knew.
"Fine" I blinked, keeping my face as neutral as possible. If I showed any cracks in my facade, he would have the upper hand. He would win. "Yours?"
"A bore" Fyodor sighed, moving his chess piece forward on the board. "Don't worry yourself, a worried wife is a useless one"
His words used to hurt me, burrowing like maggots into my brain and rotting away. Now I understood that I shouldn't take it to heart. That our marriage was a loveless one to begin with. That there was no reason to care for insults from a husband who only married me to use me as a tool in his game.
"Same for a worried husband, no?" I quipped back, moving my own piece. "Checkmate"
"You're learning" He chuckled, the corners of his lips curling into the slightest smile. He didn't smile much, or at least, not a genuine smile. Whether this one was real or not, I had no idea. It looked more out of mockery than anything. "Shall we go to bed, or do you have more snarky comments for me?"
"It's only 9pm" I tilted my head to the side, eying up the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
"Is that an issue?"
"For a man who stays up all night working on something he won't tell me about, yes. Why so tired now?"
Fyodor sighed again, shaking his head and sending me a sharp glare. "Don't ask me questions you don't want the answer too"
A classic response. A warning, more like. Fuck around and find out, poke the bear and get eaten, or which ever cliché phrase you wanted to use. It was true, however. I didn't want to know what he got up too at his work-which he had told me was an office job that would 'simply bore me to death'.
But I had seen him leave late in the night, seen him return covered in blood, seen the headlines the next morning and heard the gossip from the woman in town.
A terrorist organization, the Rats they called it, revoking havoc all over the country. The leader had been spotted too many times to count, a sicky Russian man with a piercing purple gaze.
I wasn't stupid.
But I wouldn't pry, either. I had all the information I was going to get. Because if there was one thing Fyodor was best at, it was his poker face.
"Fine. Bed it is"
"That's a good girl, tuck me in, will you?"
#oneshot#bsd#bsd x reader#bsd fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#bungo stray dogs fyodor#fyodor x reader#decay of angels#writers on tumblr
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
something that makes me feel guilty is the fact that seeing that persons face rn literally makes me angry. they walked into class and i nearly winced. and in all fairness they were quite kind to me. outside of the several kind of odd red flags. girl whatever. to be quite frank i am a horny bastard and vocal proud etc but few people interest me enough to actually want to hang out with and get to know And i have deep seated intimacy issues so it's like. we really dont have a shot unless the circumstances r exactly right on a full moon perfect thursday of a month etc like. well and tbh i probably would have fucked around with this person but i dont... care... about some big relationship w them.. and i know i could be a relationship girl like eventually i have it in me to have a muse that's what im built for i think idc but not rn... rn i need to hang out with my friends and do my film stuff and have people that maybe wanna make out sometimes is that so much to ask for. for a lesbian at a bar to want to make out perhaps. ** for there to be lesbians at the bars to potentially make out with.
#and i am quite lonely yes thank u for asking. yeah someday id love to get to know someone again in the context of falling in love#what about it. so what now. i dont think im meant for our understanding of romantic love but boy do i crave it#why am i having this moment rn. well ok consider im on my period all i could think about this morning was [redacted] and both parties#of my dyke drama were back in class today. and the one gay person that i think has a crush on me but we dont see each other super often#so im just. guessing based on the way awkward lesbians communicate. idk#and i feel really just mean but i quite literally dont have it in me to pretend to be nice to this person anymore#i wasnt like. some villain for realizing we were acting really coupley and being like oh shit because i didnt want to hurt them#. and trying to communicate and put some distance between us when i thought they were probably in too deep. it's unfortch it took me a sec#but jesus christ yk i cant walk around and feel awkward about it forever. and im frustrated by the fact that we're just acting so odd#but again frankly i think it's largely bc they have an unhealthy relationship with dating. THROWING HORIZONTAL PUNCHES HERE.#OK. STONES FROM A GLASS HOUSE. IM AWARE. REAL RECOGNIZES REAL.#and YET. despite my past insanity. ive been kind. i can understand disappointment and a little awkwardness#but jesus would you rather i pretend to be in love with you for months and then really break your heart.#this is where i get mean and make a joke like well hey if we couldve had weird really mediocre sad angry dyke sex abt it#that would have been cool with me. but alas. we're here instead and it's fucking with my friendships too#and like we were kind of ok friends too. what now. its just u me and this brick wall u built between us bitch#now was EYE not answering texts for a minute. we dont need to get into it.#because the thing IS if i dont play things exactly right. and im not good at that without prior planning. i will accidentally say or do#something that i know. again. from being insane myself. would be just enough for them to hold onto hope#and im not trying to do that to them you know. i was trying to help with the detachment. shitty as it may be. i dont fucking know dude#this post is going to make me look kind of. well. whatever u guys have seen me at my worst. mostly. and post#ok one last thing sorry if this makes me sound like i have a giant ego. like wow heres this person who really liked me and im just shitting#all over them. not what im meaning to do but whatever
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
Why are you posting Carlando and even Piarlos content if you don't like Carlos? Math ain't mathing...
well, firstly, anon, this is tumblr dot com, not maths class. i've said repeatedly, and i will say it again, that i reserve the right to be as hypocritical and insane as i want here. after all, it's tumblr - if i can't be insane and hypocritical here, then where can i?
example: anyone who watches my blog at all during a race week will know that i am NO max fan. not in the slightest. and yet i will occasionally reblog maxiel fic recs. why? well, because they're quite often quite well-written. at the end of the day, i'm a fangirl and also a bisexual disaster, so if there's a well-written gay fanfic, the chances are relatively high that i will read and enjoy it. also: i think there's quite a significant difference between fic!max (who i occasionally enjoy) and driver!max (who i despise quite passionately.) fic!max has a lot of background and nuance that can make for fascinating characterisation, and as a writer, i just enjoy that.
now for carlos specifically: please let it be known that i do not hate him the way i hate max. not even close. i am, however, a dedicated chirlie (charles girlie) and anyone who gets in the way of charles doing well is automatically in my bad books. i do try to be at least a little reasonable about it, though, and yes i absolutely do realise that a lot of major fuck-ups this season were ferrari's, not carlos' (see: silverstone 2022.) but yeah, unfortunately the way carlos has handled a lot of interviews this year really rubbed me up the wrong way, and i read one too many comparisons of carlos girlies calling him more talented than charles as well. which.... babe, no.
like i said at the start, i am fully aware that i'm a hypocrite lmao. but i'm not HERE to be unbiased. we are watching a sport - everyone is biased towards their favourites, and i'm not going to apologise for that.
and as for carlando and piarlos - i treat them the same way as i would maxiel. carlos might not be on my favourites list as a driver, but he's an interesting character to explore in fic. i am at the end of the day a writer, and i like interesting characters to explore, so yes, i am quite happy to post carlando or piarlos or very very occasionally even charlos content (because akira is the best and might convert me one day. we'll see.)
anyway! the last thing i wanted to say to you, anon, is just a gentle reminder again of the PURPOSE of fandom. it is an escape from real life, somewhere where we can come to have fun. the same rules and restrictions and - dare i say it - morals that we use irl do not apply here. they just don't! fandom should be about what makes one happy, and nobody really has the right to police that, i don't think.
so tl;dr - anon, i am here to do whatever it is that makes me happy in that moment. if that's carlando and/or piarlos, then that's what i'll do. if you have a problem with that, then i'm happy to point you in the direction of the Unfollow button, lmao - curate your experience! see what you want to see. have fun!
x
#asks & answers#anon#honestly this one made me 🤨🤨🤨 so much this morning#i have tried not to be too sharp and sarcastic in my answer but good lord#i have never had much patience for hate anons; mild or otherwise#because like. this is FANDOM for god's sake. we are here to have fun; not be policed#respectfully... fuck off#'but katie you're going to lose followers!'#literally who cares lmao#i'm not particularly here to be popular; i am here to enjoy myself and ship my little gay ships and have fun with my friends#if any anon wants to tell me how i should or shouldn't do that; then well#you may as well go find yourself another blog to bully because i will not give you the time of day lmao#have we all collectively just forgotten about 'ship and let ship' btw?? 🤨#it doesn't MATTER what someone else enjoys. it doesn't need to make sense to you#as long as they're enjoying themselves then that's all that matters; no?#ugh. yeah. well sorrynotsorry for going off in the tags#but honestly... the anon situation is getting a little out of hand in this fandom; i feel#calm it down people. cool it.#go read a good gay fic for your pairing instead of upsetting someone else's day; why don't you?
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tespuco
feels and trembling
goodgoblinguy
AAAAAAA
ourflagmeanslgbt
moved to yuekitara
galaxuniverso-blog
Uma dose de Morfina
talesofarcadiaartzine
Tales of Arcadia Art Zine