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babyboibucky · 3 years

Text

Charm

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky checks whether he still has his 1940′s charm.

Word Count: 1,613

Warnings: TFATWS spoilers! No warning, just a bit of fluff I guess???

A/N: Nothing really, just that Bucky deserves all the love in the world :’)

Charming (Part 2) || MAIN MASTERLIST

“You should date someone.”

Bucky groans at Yori’s suggestion. Again. The old guy had been pestering him about it ever since they started their little friendship. Introduced girls and forced him to take them out to dinner or bingo. He did try of course, but it always seemed too fast for him.

“I already did, haven’t I? You sort of forced me to go on one, remember?” Bucky asked before downing a glass of sake in one go.

Thank god they went to a different Japanese restaurant this time. His date with the girl at the other restaurant went pretty badly, with him walking out after a particularly sensitive topic and never returning. Bucky felt bad and as much as he wanted to go back there and apologize, he just doesn’t have the courage to show his face again.

“Yeah, well you messed up.” Yori said pointedly.

Bucky chortled, “Or maybe you messed up by forcing me. I told you, you gotta take it slow like a dance. I mean, you don’t just ask anyone to dance with you. You ask someone you’d like to dance with.”

Yori’s shoulders trembled as he tried to bite back his laughter. Bucky made a face when he realized he’d been talking a lot.

“Then go find someone you want to date. Or maybe you just don’t have it in you.” The older man teased.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin, “Sounds like a challenge.”

As Bucky poured himself another glass of sake, he began to wonder whether Yori was right. Maybe he really didn’t have it anymore, the confidence and charm he used to have back in his time.

Only one way to find out.

The club was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Initially, Bucky thought that it would be the perfect place to find someone to date. Apparently not, because despite the presence of beautiful girls, they were pretty much throwing themselves at him. As much as Bucky was curious about the so called “hook-up” culture in the modern times, it just wasn’t for him.

And good god, the dancing? It’s not what it used to be; Bucky wasn’t even sure if he could call those movements “dance”.

Bucky called it a night and quickly headed to the exit. And that’s where he noticed you, fumbling with your phone and clicking your tongue from what seemed to be frustration. He slowed down in his steps, not wanting to interrupt your little moment as you mumbled a string of curses to yourself.

He eyed you from head to toe, noticing that you were wearing something too simple for a club: just a white shirt, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. With Bucky’s experience, he learned to be observant enough to read someone’s personality.

You were definitely not a frequent visitor to these clubs. And he was right about that because you were just forced to tag along to your officemates to celebrate a promotion.

“Ugh, fuck. Come on!” You unintentionally exclaimed out loud, stomping on the ground causing for Bucky to let out a chuckle.

Bucky’s eyes widened when you abruptly turned around, “Oh sorry. I didn’t meant to uhh...are you okay?” He asked timidly, slowly walking over to where you stood.

You huffed out, “I’m trying to book a ride, but the signal here sucks.” You explained. “And I’m not really comfortable to walk home at this hour.” You quickly added.

It was close to ten in the evening, it wasn’t that late yet but given the location and downsides of being a woman, you really didn’t want to risk your safety.

“Won’t your friends give you a ride home?” He asked.

You groaned, “They aren’t really my friends...I just work with them. They’re all shit-faced drunk and I didn’t even plan on coming here. Not a fan of clubs.” You admitted.

Bucky chuckled as he kicked the ground, “Guess that makes two of us.”

Your hum caught Bucky’s attention and when he looked up, you were looking at him suspiciously. For a moment he thought that you might have recognized him but you merely laughed and shook your head.

“You don’t seem like the type to hate clubs. Why are you here then?” You asked curiously.

Bucky shrugged, “Thought I’d find someone here that I can you know...take out on a date.”

You cackled out loud, it was the kind of laughter that made Bucky join in. You probably thought it was stupid for him to come looking for love at a club. And well, given his experience inside, you were correct.

“I know. It’s stupid. I haven’t been to clubs really, so I honestly didn’t know what to expect.” He admitted, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly.

You nodded, “How was your experience inside then?”

“You could say I was pretty shocked. And disoriented. The lights made me dizzy.” Bucky said, widening his eyes in emphasis.

Laughing, you nodded and agreed before introducing yourself so casually. Bucky repeated your name, he liked the way it sounded.

“I’m James.”

Bucky found himself easily opening up to you. The conversations flowed naturally, from something as basic as favorite food down to your mutual hatred for crowded places and everything in between. Bucky learned that you often volunteer at an orphanage and that you hate plums which happens to be his favorite. It resulted to a harmless debate that lasted ten minutes.

You asked him about his work, something that he had to lie his way around. As much as he wanted to be honest with you, he was afraid that revealing the truth might scare you off. You seemed to be really interested in him whenever he talked about his boring daily routine.

“Do you...do you like to talk somewhere else?” Bucky blurted out.

You offered a sad smile, one that broke Bucky’s heart because you were probably going to reject him. Understandable though, he was a stranger and it was late at night. It was hard to trust people nowadays.

“I have work tomorrow morning.” You apologetically said.

“But you can walk me home...if you’d like?” You asked. “I probably sound demanding but uhh, I don’t think I can really book a ride and I don’t want to walk home alone at this hour.”

Bucky heaved out a deep sigh of relief and laughed, “I thought you didn’t like talking to me.” He sheepishly admitted.

“No, I actually like talking to you. You’re fun. And interesting.” You smiled.

Bucky beamed and extended a hand, letting you lead the way before matching your pace. The more he talked to you, the more he realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d be the first person he’d willingly ask out on a date.

The walk lasted half an hour but to Bucky, it only felt like minutes. It was definitely not enough for him to get to know you more.

“Well, this is me.” You announced when you reached your apartment building.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” You said.

Bucky placed his hands inside his pockets and nodded, “Call me old-fashioned, but I felt like any gentleman should do so.”

Bucky held your gaze and debated how he should ask you out. Should he just blurt out the question? Would that be too soon? Your number! Maybe he should ask for your number first, show his therapist that finally, there was a new number registered in his contacts.

“Well, I should head inside.” You said when Bucky remained silent and although Bucky didn’t want to assume, he thought he saw a look if disappointed in your eyes.

Yori is going to regret saying that he doesn’t have game.

“Wait,” Bucky called out before you could turn around. “Being old-fashioned and all, I know this might be too forward. Or too fast, even.” he trailed and cleared his throat.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me? This Saturday. We can go to the beach, get ice cream...” he suggested.

Wrong move! Out of all the places he could suggest, it just had to be the beach! It’s not like he could wear a long-sleeved top and his gloves without getting dirty looks from people. You were going to find out the truth about him, his arm, his past. And then you’d regret letting him walk you home because who knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of?

“I’d love to.” You replied with a grin but before Bucky could suggest another place, you had already walked up to the front door of your apartment building, pulling it open before suddenly stopping.

“Or we can just take a walk at the park if you want, if that’s more comfortable for you.” You suggested turning your head to look back at Bucky.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. Again, he was unable to say something because you beat him to it with a surprising revelation.

“I’ll wait for you to come pick me up on Saturday. And don’t worry about your arm, I don’t mind. Good night, Bucky.”

And with one final beautiful smile, you headed inside the building leaving Bucky with a confused look. You knew him all along but didn’t say anything. You opened up to him, held his arm when you laughed and still, it didn’t bother you. You didn’t call him out when he lied about working for a mechanic shop, didn’t get scared when he offered to walk you home.

It took a few seconds for Bucky’s brain to process everything. And then he found himself grinning like a fool when he proved something to himself. And well, Yori too.

“Guess I still got it.”

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#bbbwrites #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath.

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's -

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #malleus draconia #idia shroud #twst grim

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nhlandotherimagines · 3 years

Text

One Thing- Cale Makar

@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19

Here we go with blurb #3 of the Up All Night series! It’s mostly fluff, and quite a bit of pining :) Let me know what you think, and if you’d like to be tagged in any of the future blurbs in this series

I’ve also decided that instead of Wednesday’s, Fridays, and Sundays I’m just going to post one every other day :)

I’ve tried playin' it cool, but when I'm lookin' at you I can't ever be brave ‘cause you make my heart race

As you stand in Nate’s backyard, Cale catches your eye. He is leaning against the side of the deck, sunglasses sitting on the top of his head, and eyes crinkling as he laughs loudly at something Nate said to him. His laugh makes you smile to yourself. You haven’t been introduced to Cale yet, but Nate was positive the two of you would get along perfectly.

As if on cue, Nate yells out for you snapping you from your thoughts. As you look over, he motions for you to join them. Grabbing your drink from the table you’d been standing at, you make your way towards them. Nate smiles at you mischievously, and then turns to Cale.

“Makar, this is my friend Y/n. Y/n, this is Cale Makar.” Nate introduces the two of you, and you giggle lightly at the mock formality he forces into his voice.

“Nice to meet you Cale Makar.” You say his full name in a playful tone, sticking your hand out for him. Cale stares at it for a moment too long, before reaching out and shaking it.

“Hey, Um yeah you can just call me Cale. Or if you want you can call me Cale Makar. Or you can call me just Makar. I don’t care, call me whatever you want!” He rambles, and the more he speaks the redder his cheeks get. You smile at him, and can’t help but notice how adorable the tint on his cheeks is.

“Well Just Makar, you know you can stop shaking my hand now right?” You tease, glancing down to where he still grips your hand in his.

Cale sputters out an apology, dropping your hand immediately. Before you can even get another word in Cale awkwardly excuses himself, and you turn to Nate. He is standing next to you, eyes trained on the young defensemen, mouth slightly agape, and brows furrowed in confusion. “What the hell was that?” Nate asks, his voice laced with pure astonishment. You shrug, because you are also very confused.

Cale, however, was now trying to find a drink. He heard Nate talk about you everyday for the past week, but not once had he mention how absolutely stunning you were. Now Cale was sure he had completely embarrassed himself, and ruined any chance he may have had at befriending you.

Cale spends the rest of the party trying to build the confidence to speak to you again, so he can at least apologize for his previous behaviour. He even talks himself into it a few times, putting on a brave face, but as soon as his eyes fall on you again he chickens out.

Shot me out of the sky, you’re my kryptonite. You keep making me weak, frozen, and can't breathe

The next time you see Cale is at a bar after a big Avs win. As you walk towards the group, you notice how comfortable all of the boys look. “Win drunk” and surrounded by all of their friends, the boys are happy. Cale’s smile seems the biggest as he watches Kadri tell a very animated story, and you can’t help but smile too. You’re not sure what it is about Cale, but you’re drawn to him.

As you approach the table, Cale’s eyes find you first. He’s in the middle of saying something, but immediately stops. His face turns red, and he is frozen in place. Sure, he knows you’re good looking, but tonight in your band tee and leather jacket, he’s sure he’s never seen anyone look so effortlessly good.

“Sorry did I interrupt something?” You ask, embarrassed by the reaction. All eyes are on Cale as attempts to tell you that you hadn’t interrupted anything. His face is bright red now, and you feel kind of bad for him. Cale can’t seem to catch his breath, no one has ever made him feel this way.

Something's gotta give now 'cause I'm dying just to make you see that I need you here with me now 'cause you've got that one thing

“Makar why have you been so weird every time we hangout?” Nate asks as he finds the younger man in the kitchen of his apartment. Cale has been hiding in the kitchen for the last 10 minutes, wondering if he can even go back into the same room as you. He wants so bad to just be able to talk to you, but he can never seem to find the words.

Cale just shrugs, embarrassed that his friends are noticing his behaviour. “It’s Y/n isn’t it?” Nate smirks, nudging Cale playfully.

“I don’t know why I can’t just talk to her!” Cale groans, dropping his head and rubbing at the back of his neck in frustration. Nate just laughs, clapping his hand against Cale’s shoulder.

“You’ll get there, just stop thinking so hard. It’s painful to watch.” With that Nate leaves the younger man standing in his kitchen, joining the rest of the guests in his living room. Leaving Cale, once again with just his thoughts. Somethings gotta give.

So get out, get out, get out of my head, and fall into my arms instead

“What’s going on in that head of yours Just Makar?” You tease. You had slipped away from everyone else to get a drink, and maybe also to find Cale. His eyes snap to you, and he watches as you grab a glass from the cupboard next to him. The smile on your face when you turn to face him again makes his heart race.

“Just thinking.” He smiles, “How’s it going in there? No ones injured yet?”

“Surprisingly not yet!” You giggle, “But I’m sure it won’t be long.” You add, pouring a drink and then leaning against the counter beside Cale. You’re close enough that your shoulders are just barely touching, and immediately Cale gets flustered. He just wants to be able to throw his arm around your shoulder, and pull you into his side. He’s not even sure when those thoughts about you started, but all he knows is that he can’t get you out of his head.

I don't, I don't, don't know what it is, but I need that one thing, and you’ve got that one thing

As you stand over the stove in the kitchen, you hear a knock at your door. Glancing at the clock, you furrow your brows in confusion. Turning down the burner on the stove, you make your way to the door. As you pull it open you are even more confused as you see who stands on the other side.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but um- could I come in?” Cale asks, a blush on his cheeks. You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape, still confused. He looks at you hopefully, and you realize you’ve yet to speak to him.

“Oh yeah, uh sure I’m just making dinner, would you like some?” You ask, pushing the door open to allow him in.

“Oh I’m sorry, I can- um I could come back later?” He is sputtering again, and looking everywhere but at you. You place a shaky hand on his bicep, hoping he can’t feel your sudden nervousness.

“It’s fine! There is enough for two if you’re hungry of course.” He smiles, and nods. You walk back into the kitchen, tending to the stove again. Cale leans against the counter offering to help, but you quickly turn him down telling him you’re almost done.

Cale watches you intently. You’re so focused on the task at hand, tongue poking out from your lips slightly in concentration. Cale is lost in you once again, he can’t place it but there is something different about you. You are so different than any person he’s ever met, and he can’t shake you from his mind.

He’s snapped from his thoughts, when you turn to him and speak. “So not to sound like I don’t enjoy your company or anything, but why are you here?” You ask, a small smirk tugging on your lips. Cale starts to panic, sure he practiced this conversation all day, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be ready.

“Well I’m-“ He sighs dropping his gaze to the floor. “I wanted to see you. The truth is I always do. I’m sorry I struggle talking to you, but I just think you’re so amazing and it’s intimidating. I don’t know exactly what it is about you, but I’ve been drawn to you since the moment we met. So I hope this isn’t too forward or too awkward, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you out sometime. On a date. Only if that’s something you’d want to do of course.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he can heart it. When he lifts his eyes to yours again, you can see the hope in them. You don’t know it now, but you’re holding Cale’s heart in your hand, and you could easily break it with just a few words. Your mind has been made up about Cale since the moment you had seen him across Nate’s backyard. He was captivating, absolutely adorable, and a total gentleman.

The smile that breaks across your face as you nod, has a sigh escaping Cale’s body. His smile is even bigger than yours, even though you would have thought that was mpossible. “Well Just Makar,” you wink, and Cale groans at the stupid nickname. “How about we have dinner here tonight, count this as date number one. If tonight goes as well as I expect it will, then I will absolutely let you take me out.” You suggest, stepping closer to him. The two of you are about as close as two people can stand without touching, your eyes both begging the other to close the gap.

“Would it make me a bad date if I kissed you before the date actually starts?” Cale breathes out, leaning in impossibly closer.

“I think you’d be a bad date if you didn’t.” You try and tease back, but your voice is shaky and full of want. You don’t have time to really be embarrassed, because Cale is pressing his lips to yours.

You can feel Cale smile against your lips, and you can’t help but mirror the action. Who knows what will happen between the two of you? All you know is that there is something about Cale. He’s always on your mind, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#Up All Night- Series #Cale Makar fanfiction #cale makar x reader #cale makar #hockey #nhl #colorado avalanche #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfic #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Pogues x OC, Eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: I’ll be honest, this isn’t my best chapter, so please don’t judge too harshly I swear it gets better!!! (: Again, forever grateful for all the kind feedback. I truly appreciate it. If you asked to be on the tag list and I accidentally forgot, please let me know!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Slight insinuation to sexual assault.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 & Chapter 4

Like I said before, I'm good at advertising. Although the cell phone towers are still down, making it harder for me to get the word out about a party in the boneyard, I still know how to get around to the other teenagers on this island.

I sneak in an hour of surfing on the beach, afterwards finding Tourons and even some Kooks. These are the best people to go to when you want word to get around. They're rich and live for gossip. They have the internet and cell phone service, which means they can text their friends and send out tweets. And that is exactly what they do when I'm finished talking to them.

Later, I go with JJ and John B to get the kegs. As they work their magic, somehow securing two, I walk around the lot where most kids who live on the Cut hang out, hoping to score cheap booze from a stranger walking into the beer and beverage store. I use to spend a lot of my weekends here when my dad first disappeared. A small part of me still wants to. It was so easy to forget about my life falling apart when I was too wasted to form a complete sentence.

I tell them about the party and tell them to tell their friends and so on.

As I expect, the empty boneyard fills up quickly. To Kie's dismay, almost every kid has a red solo cup in their hand instead of a reusable one by the time the sun sets. Music and the chants of people playing drinking games fill my ears like a bird chirping on a Sunday morning.

Beer dribbles down my chin and onto my pink v neck crop top. JJ has his arm linked around mine, also chugging his drink, trying to down his before me. However, I beat him by one gulp and slam my cup on the sand as triumph.

"Seriously, Mar?" Kie scolds. She picks up my cup and throws it away.

JJ just smiles at me, maybe even looks at me with some kind of pride. It's hard to beat JJ in any drinking match, but I'm his biggest competition. I usually lose against him, but sometimes I have my nights where I'm undefeated.

He points his finger at me, pretending to be mad without losing the smile on his face. He takes a menacing step forward and bends down to lift me over his shoulder. I squeal in surprise and laugh against his back as he swings me around in circles.

When he sets me down, I shove his shoulders playfully. "Looks like you've finally met your match." JJ just shakes his head. "Get me another beer, loser?"

"You're lucky you're cute." He winks.

You can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, working-class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from pouncy-ass boarding schools, just rich trustfarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks. They're usually my first pick. A night with no attachments and a more than likely chance I'll never see them again.

I walk past Kie, who's sitting on drift wood talking to someone about zodiac signs and horoscopes. And when I pass Pope, I hear him talking about dead bodies and how TV doesn't portray the biological condition of them accurately. I giggle to myself when I see who he's talking to. A really pretty girl who wasn't expecting to get an anatomy lesson from the boy next to her. I make a mental note to work on Pope's flirting tactics.

As I make my way to the back of the beach, I see Sarah Cameron leaning off a fallen lifeguard stand. Her boyfriend, Topper Thornton, is right there with her, trying to get her to come down. Sarah Cameron's known as the Kook princess. Kiara's best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. None of us know why she started hating her all of a sudden. She doesn't like to talk about it so we don't bring it up. However, John B works on Sarah's dad's boat thanks to me.

My teeth clench together at the sight of both of them. The two of them and their friends are the worst Kooks of all. Bad memories prickle my brain like a million tiny needles and the palms of my hands sweat against my solo cup.

I walk to the back of the beach and lean against a tree that's as close to a palm tree as this island is going to see. I like being back here when the sun goes down. It gives me the perfect view of the party. Watching people laugh and have fun because of a night my friends and I put together makes me feel satisfied. Like I did something to make their day a little more enjoyable.

"Now what's the life of the party doing back here all by herself?" A voice that makes every muscle in my body turn to ice says.

I force myself not to look in his direction. My hands clench tighter around my cup until it bends and beer sloshes on my hand.

"Trying to avoid grimy wandering hands from pompous pricks," I say through clenched teeth. I'm surprised my voice isn't as shaky as I feel. "Go away, Rafe."

Rafe Cameron ignores me and moves to stand in front of me. His blonde hair is slicked back with a gel that's probably more expensive than my entire outfit. He's wearing a salmon pink button up shirt and white shorts. The sight of him makes me sick and I don't know if I want to drink more heavily or throw up and call it a night.

"Oh come on, Marleigh. Let's not pretend like you don't want to finish what we started."

I stand up straighter, feeling bile rise in my throat. "I'd rather rip both of my eyes out with a spoon." My insult wipes his stupid cocky grin off his smug face. At first I take it as a compliment, but the look in his eyes chills me to the bone. "Get out of here, Rafe. I'm not going to tell you again."

Rafe jerks forward and pushes me back into the trunk of the tree. His forearm presses against my chest, right below my collarbone. I try fighting him off but he's surprisingly strong. His eyes swing back and forth with craze, his pupils large and dilated. He's gotta be on something. Cocaine maybe. I've heard rumors.

"You think you can talk to me like that? After what my dad did for your friends?"

"Your dad only helped them in hopes to cover up the mistake that you made," I seethe, trying to push him away again. I try to keep my breathing even and my eyes unblinking. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. Even though I'm scared enough to vomit on his two hundred dollar shoes. "I owe you nothing." There's a pause as Rafe considers his next words carefully. So I push even harder. "You know, if you keep bringing it up, people might overhear and start to talk. I don't know if even your dad could buy the entire island's silence."

"You seriously think you can threaten me? You're nothing but a dirty walking piece of trash Pogue. No one will believe the Cut's biggest whore." Rafe shakes his head. "Remember that next time you think about talking to me like that."

His words cut through me like a stab in the chest, but I try not to let him see that. I push against him, keeping my face pinched and my eyes unwavering. "I'm not the same girl I was eight months ago," I say, finally pushing him away from me.

Back then I was a messed up girl who's dad had just left after a big argument that resulted in him thinking she hated him. All I wanted to do was drown myself with drugs and alcohol in hopes to forget about him, even if that meant following Kie to a Kook party when she was trying to roll around in the Kook life. I was easy to manipulate and take advantage of...easy to hurt. But not anymore.

"You think I'm above hitting a girl?" Rafe breathes heavily, his hands clenched to his side. I struck a nerve. One more and he might actually attack me.

"No," I say honestly. "I don't think you're above anything...or anyone. Including me - a dirty walking piece of trash Pogue." I use his words against him.

Rafe jerks forward and raises his hand to hit me and I'm ready for the blow and a fight back, but someone's voice forces us to halt, stopping us like she just pressed paused on a movie screen.

Kie watches us with wide eyes and glances back and forth between us. She looks both scared and angry. Rafe doesn't even bother looking in her direction. He's more disappointed that she got in his way.

I stand up straight again and walk past him, making sure to shove him backwards with my shoulder. Kie wraps her arm around mine and pulls me in close as she guides me away from him. She looks behind us one last time to make sure Rafe isn't following us. When the coast is clear, she stops and turns to look at me with a stone cold expression.

"What the hell was that?" She says, trying to read my face. "Are you okay?"

I can barely hear her behind the screaming in my head. Dirty walking piece of trash Pogue. The Cut's biggest whore. Who would believe you?

"Fine," I shrug, feigning nonchalance. I look back to where I was just standing. Rafe's gone, but the nausea he left me with isn't.

"Marleigh."

"Seriously, Kie. I'm fine. Just some unresolved built up resentment coming out full-fledged. I can't say I'm surprised. Now that summer's started, we're probably going to see a lot more of them."

Kie sighs and looks at me sympathetically. I hate that look. "You should tell the boys."

"What? No way!" I snap.

"What if he -"

"He's not going to." I glare at her.

"Why won't you just -"

"So they can think of me as some pathetic little girl who needs protection from some self-centered Kook? Besides, John B and probably JJ will go after him and the last thing either of them need is charges pressed against them."

The noise of people yelling at one another and some cheering stops Kie from fighting back with me. We turn to look towards the water, seeing a crowd form around two people fighting. Dread creeps up my chest. If I had one hundred dollars, I'd bet it all that one of my friends is the center of attention in that crowd.

Kie and I run to them, pushing ourselves to the front. My breath hitches in my throat when I see who's involved. John B and Topper are fighting ankle deep in the ocean, each one getting a few good punches in.

"John B, stop!" I yell. I don't care who started the fight or why Topper deserves to get beaten to shit. If John B gets caught, the two of us are more than screwed with DCS.

"We're suppose to be incognito, remember?" Pope yells at my brother next to me.

"Babe!" Sarah yells at her boyfriend, jerking back and forth, trying to grab him by the shirt to pull him back. But his movements are scrappy. Sarah would just get hurt.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The crowd around us cheer like it's a high school wrestling match and not my brother, the one that threw them this party by the way. I can't believe people find this as a source of entertainment. Half of them wouldn't even last a second if they were the one's getting beaten to a pulp.

Topper gets the upper hand and throws John B into the water. I flinch from the pain that must of caused to John B's back.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?" Topper says.

In that moment my vision turns red and a switch flips in my body. I picture my hands around Topper's neck and him begging for me to let him go - him taking back those words.

When I step into the water to reach him, arms wrap around my waist, stopping me from going forward. I glare at the blonde Pogue and try shoving him away from me but that only makes his grip on me tighten.

"JJ, let me go," I grunt.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Can't do that." His lips are so close that I can feel his breath.

John B tackles Topper to the ground and punches him in the face again.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"John B, let it go!" Kie screams. "Stop, you guys!"

Topper kicks John B's feet from under him and just like that, JB is back in the water. The Kook kneels next to him and punches my brother across the face before shoving his head into the water.

"Topper stop!" I yell.

"Come on John B!" Pope yells.

Topper lets John B come up for air before dunking him back in. I feel my chest tighten when I realize what Topper is going to do, whether he means to or not.

"JJ, please! He's going to kill him! JJ!" I cry against his hold.

"Come on, Man!" Topper taunts John B, keeping his head under water.

I'm going to kill him, I think. The second JJ lets go, I'm going to rip Topper apart.

"Topper, stop! No!" Sarah cries.

"Pope!" JJ says, swinging me around before pushing me into our other friend's arms. "Hold her."

"What? No!" I fight back but even Pope is stronger than I give him credit for.

JJ disappears to God knows where and I'm left watching like a stranded duck. I feel useless, like I should be doing more to help my brother. Everything I said to Rafe only minutes ago goes straight out the window. Maybe I am weak and still a girl who needs protecting.

Then the world freezes. JJ holds the gun we found in the motel to Topper's head, not only making Topper pause, but the rest of the crowd too. Pope releases his hold on me and I stumble away from him. I only watch the scene unfold in front of me with wide eyes.

"Yeah, you know what that is," JJ says, clicking the safety off the gun. "Your move, broski."

"Come on!" Pope yells. "Chill dude!"

"Stop! JJ!" Sarah cries. "Put the gun down!"

"Did you say something princess?" JJ turns towards Sarah and points his gun at the sky.

"We're good. We're good." Topper stumbles away from my brother to stand in front of his girlfriend.

The second he backs away, I'm in the water helping John B. I pull his upper back into my lap and push his hair out of his face. He coughs up a couple gulps of water before relaxing against me.

"Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please!" Sarah yells.

"Okay, everyone, listen up!" JJ addresses everyone else who still watch in fear. "Get the hell off our side of the island!" He fires two bullets into the sky, causing people to shriek and cry around me.

"Are you crazy?" Kie yells at him. "Why do that?"

"I'm saving his life, okay?" JJ yells back at her.

When people begin dispersing, Pope runs into the water to help me lift John B back to shore. He's in a daze and barely able to stand on his own.

The four of them help me drag him back to the Chateau, the party long forgotten. Kie covers John B with blankets and places a glass of water on the nightstand for when he wakes up. I don't say anything as the night wraps up. I'm not mad at JJ like Pope and Kie. He did what he had to do to save John B. Topper could have killed him and the police would probably chop it up as an accident and I would be left with no family.

"You guys should go," I say.

I just want to be alone. Between Rafe and Topper, all I can think about is sleep so I can wake up to a new day. Start over and try again.

"Are you sure?" JJ asks, looking between my eyes to find any sign for him to stay.

As much as I want JJ to stay the night and let me cuddle into him like the night before, it's best if I'm alone. So I reluctantly nod.

"You can stay at mine tonight, JJ," Pope offers.

I offer a weak smile before turning around to lock myself in my room. When I hear the door to the Chateau close one last time for the night, I sigh deeply and stare up at my ceiling. I'm restless, anxious, sweaty. As much as I want sleep, sleep doesn't want me. I toss and turn hoping for a wave of darkness to hit me but it never does.

I glance at my clock. 3:04 AM. I roll my eyes and groan to myself, pushing myself up against my bed's headboard. I tip toe out of the Chateau and make my way down to the dock. I dip my toes in the water and lay back against the wooden slacks. The moon's half crescent illuminates the water, dark with a mystery glint. It's cold against the night, feeling refreshing against my skin.

Even my mind isn't tired. My head wanders with different thoughts. Rafe, Topper, Scooter, the gun...my dad. His words echo through my ears like a skipping record. The night before he disappeared he told John B and I that he might have to vanish for a bit. This only caused a major fight to brew between my father and I whereas John B only nodded and said okay. I think this is why John B still holds on to hope that he's alive somewhere.

John B was always the loyal one to my father. Although they fought almost as much as my dad and I, they were quick to move on and pretend like it wouldn't happen again. Even though it always did. He tried to help my dad keep me on track with school, friends, and other activities. Most of the time, he just joined in on my antics. Sometimes I regret not giving my dad enough credit. He was a single father to Pogue twins with the distraction of his own obsession. My last words to him haunt me every day I pass his office.

"I hate you!" I screamed. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears. I wanted him to know I was strong and that I didn't need him. I think my main intention was to hurt him like he hurt me, but I would do anything to take it back.

~ ~ ~

I wake up to the low rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel underneath some tires. I blink away the sleep in my eyes, looking out into the marsh. The sun is above me, warming the entire island with it's summer heat so early in the morning.

My back aches as I sit myself up. I twist to find the noise that woke me up.

"Shit," I curse when I see the cop car parked in front of the Chateau.

Sheriff Peterkin sees me walking up my yard and waits for me to approach her before barging into my house. I squint against the morning light. Even though I'm not in the mood for a pop in, I actually like Peterkin. She's the only one I trust to do her job right.

"I hope you brought some coffee," I say before opening the door for her.

"This will be quick," She says. I watch her eyes scan my kitchen and living room judgmentally. "Where's your brother?"

I point to his room. Peterkin gives me a look to go first. I sigh, knocking twice on the door before letting myself in. John B is still passed out. Half of his body hangs off the bed. His left eye is officially black and blue, a mark I know Peterkin won't subtly ignore. It's the first thing she sees and gives me a sideways glance. I cross my arms and look away.

John B blinks up at us when he hears our footsteps. His brows furrow in confusion, sleep still fogging his head.

"Get decent, sweetie," Peterkin says. "We need to talk."

As we wait for JB to get dressed, I sit on the pull out couch in my living room, fumbling with my thumbs until he appears, dressed in an open button up and swim trunks. He glances between Peterkin and I for some answers but neither of us give him any.

"Sorry to break in like this," She says, pacing the floor. John B stands next to me with his arms crossed. "But DCS called. They wanted me to check on you. See how you two are doing." Neither of us answer. "So, how are you, besides -" She points to JB's shiner and I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. So far so good!

"Oh, no, I'm - I'm great," John B says, shrugging like our life is just full of rainbows and butterflies. "Yeah, fantastic. Uh... thanks for coming by."

Peterkin just smirks. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, John B, but I heard a few things that worried me. Let me see if I can remember. Oh yeah. One of the things I heard was that your Uncle Teddy, your guardian, hasn't been in the state for three months."

"Yes he has -"

Peterkin cuts me off. "You don't have to say anything. I know it's true. I called the school. They said you used to be a good student," She says, looking at John B. Then she looks at me. "You not so much. But John they say now you're failing all your classes."

"No. No, I'm only failing one and it's history. He's a dick. He's out for me - "

"I heard," Peterkin continues, not giving a damn about John B's bullshit excuses, "there was a fight on the beach yesterday, and a gun was involved."

My eyes snap up to look directly at Peterkin. I feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. What else was she going to ask? Would JJ get in trouble? Are we going to jail?

"Okay, gun?" John B plays dumb. "No. Did I get in a dustup? Yeah, but was there a gun? No. No way," He scoffs.

"That's okay I know who it was. I'll get to him. All I'm worried about right now is making sure you're in a safe home."

"Yeah," I say. "Super safe."

John B knocks the table next to him. "Super sound, sturdy. You know?"

"Uncle T's coming so..." I say to get John B to stop talking. He's a lot of things but a good liar isn't one of them.

"That's what he told you?" Peterkin looks at me with a raised brow.

"Yeah."

"If he is coming," Peterkin picks up a cigarette and sniffs it. "I think you should be allowed to stay."

"Thank you."

"But if I stick my neck out for you, you have to help me. Tit for tat."

John B tilts his head in confusion. "What - what does tat mean?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head fall back. I swear I'm going to buy duct tape to keep this boy's mouth shut.

Peterkin ignores him. "Let me see, how can you help me? Oh, I know. So, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?"

"Yeah," I decide to answer. "We were fishing for some drum."

"You catch anything?"

"Nah, we were skunked."

"Strange," She says, not believing me. "Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up. You come across a wreck yesterday?"

"No." My heart falls deeper, but I try to keep a straight face.

This makes Peterkin sigh and she glances between the two of us. "You two are skimmin' just above the surface. Now, down here is foster care, juvie," She says, dropping her hand to about knee length. "Pretty big drop for smart kids like the both of you." She moves her hand to eye level. "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want. Outer Banks...or foster care on the mainland." I let her threat swim in my brain. "You one inch above the surface, Routledge. If I was you, I'd start flapping my wings." She looks at us one last time, no longer wanting to play games. "Now, you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?" She looks at John B who's more likely to blab than me.

I look up at my brother, warning him that he needs to lie.

He shrugs his shoulder, the lie sliding across his tongue like silk. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm sure."

Peterkin looks between John B and I and nods slowly. "It's better if you didn't, you understand? I'm gonna look the other way as long as you stay out of the marsh." She runs her finger along the wooden kitchen table and rubs the dust between her fingers. "I got dogs living better than this. You might wanna think about cleaning' up."

Peterkin lets herself out without saying goodbye. John B and I don't say anything until her car pulls out of the driveway and only then do we just share a look that says how screwed we both are.

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @jeeperky @realistic-breadstick @moniamaybank @urbinoutfiters @brebear121

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malewifegradyruewen · 3 years

Text

An Untitled Original Work, Part 8

y'all are either gonna love me or hate me-

previous | next | masterpost

trigger warnings: none that i can think of, ask to tag

word count: 2755

tagging: @fire-sapphics @artemiassamos @honorablescythecurie @love-pyramus @silver-war @pencilwritesshiz47 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @mermistahawk @dirty-racoon @tommyinnitt @enbies-and-felonies @sofia-not-sophie @imaramennoodle @littlemisscupcake @cadence-talle and lmk know if you wanna be added/removed!!

Gina was pissed, to say the least. Stupid, oblivious Leo, and stupid, oblivious her. What a pair.

Leo had always been oblivious, so she really couldn’t blame him, but it was her own mistakes that really set her off. Sure, they were her mistakes, but that didn’t make them sting less.

Put it out of your mind. That’s over now, and now we can… try again.

After they’d left, she and Sammie had decided that they should go to Gina’s, just to hang out. The only reason Gina had agreed was because she knew her dad had taken her youngest siblings to their grandma’s, and the oldest two of her younger siblings wouldn’t bother her. They might have even gone over to a friend’s house, leaving the Weathers residence vacant.

“So, what did you think? Salt & Pepper, it was good, right?” she asked, hoping to break the tension that had formed.

“Yeah, it was pretty good! Leo was right, the mocha was pretty good.”

She knew Sammie didn’t mean any harm, but hearing Leo’s name brought a bitter taste to Gina’s mouth. She did her best to swallow it before asking, “Have you ever dyed your hair?”

So she was taking the easy way out of discussing what had happened at the café. There was nothing wrong with that, especially because Gina wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but they didn’t need to talk about it. Right now, she needed a distraction, something guaranteed.

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Sammie admitted. “I never had the chance, I guess.”

“How would you feel about maybe, I dunno, doing that at my house?” Gina asked. “I’ve got a couple colours. I accidentally bought some for light hair, too, so that’s been sitting in my closet for a while now.”

Sammie hesitated. Gina could tell she wanted to, but still. It wasn’t something most people did on the fly. Changing your colour was one thing, but doing it for the first time was usually a bigger decision.

“You don’t have to,” Gina added. “Or we can do just like, a little bit. Streaks or ends or-” She gasped. “Under layer would look so good!”

With that, Sammie seemed won over. “Why not? What colours do you have?”

“For light hair, I think pink and blue. And then I have some that’s for darker hair, purple and green and red. And brown. I dunno. Probably pink or blue for you.”

“Pink, for sure.”

“Good, because we’re here,” Gina said as they pulled into her driveway. She quickly parked outside and hopped out of the car. “Do you want a soda or something? We’ve got some in the garage.”

She led Sammie into the garage and to an old, white fridge. Sammie pulled it open and Gina grabbed a Sprite. “Go on, you can take something.”

Sammie grabbed a Sprite of her own before closing the fridge. Gina then pulled open the door to the back hall, a tiny doorway that led into the kitchen. “Shoes on or off?” Sammie asked.

“Either one,” Gina said. “I keep mine in my room.” She then bolted upstairs. “My room’s up here.”

As Gina walked down the narrow hallway, she suddenly felt very… inadequate. Everything seemed too small, too dirty, too embarrassing. It never felt like this when Mally or Andre were over, because they’d been coming over since they were little. But somehow, Sammie seeing it for the first time as a high schooler, the most judgemental group of people on the planet, terrified Gina. What if this was it? Maybe Sammie would stop hanging out with her. Plus, there was the added terror of having your crush see your bedroom. That usually didn’t happen so early, did it?

Gina ran out of time to go over worst-case scenarios as she opened her bedroom door. Luckily, she’d cleaned up a bit before going to pick Sammie up, so it wasn’t too bad. Her bed was made, there were no dirty underwear on the floor, and the dresser was organised.

“Aww, your room is so cute!” Sammie said as Gina stepped out of the way to let her in. “The nail polish is so fun!” She pointed to the row that Gina had lined up in colour order. There were only maybe a dozen bottles, but they took up a decent amount of room on her dresser.

“Thanks,” Gina said as she internally sighed a sigh of relief. “Maybe we can paint our nails later, if we have time.”

“That would be fun,” Sammie agreed.

Gina could tell that there was something Sammie wasn’t saying, but she decided not to push. “Okay, here’s the hair dye,” she said as she opened her closet and grabbed a small plastic basket off the floor. “Here’s the pink.”

She tossed the box to Sammie, who caught it with ease. “Should we do this in the bathroom, and do you have some old towels?”

“Yeah, they’re right here.” She reached into her closet again and grabbed two stained towels. “I know they look gross but they’re clean, I promise. I just washed them.”

“That’s okay,” Sammie said as she took one of the towels from Gina. “Here, you put the basket away. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Right next door, first door on the right,” Gina said, sliding the basket back and closing her small closet. She followed Sammie into the bathroom.

“Okay, what’s first?” asked Sammie as she opened the box.

“You should wash your hair. I can do that in the sink, and then I have some clips in the sink so we only dye the bottom layer.”

“Alright, I’m doing this!” Sammie said as she placed one of the towels around her neck like a cape.

“We’re doing this! Here, I’m gonna go grab a chair so you can sit by the sink,” Gina said. She ran back downstairs to the garage, grabbed an old folding chair, and brought it back up. When she got back to the bathroom, she found that Sammie had found a handful of hair clips in a drawer and had pulled the gloves out of the box.

“Here.” She set the chair down facing the wall. “Sit.”

Sammie sat as Gina grabbed her shampoo and conditioner from the shower. She put them on the counter next to the sink and turned the water on. “Sit back so your hair’s actually in the sink.”

Gina could see Sammie hesitate. “Hey, it’s not too late to chicken out. I still haven’t been able to do Mally’s. You’re fine if you don’t wanna do it.”

“No, I wanna,” Sammie said. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be! This stuff is only semi-permanent anyways, so it won’t last for more than six weeks, if you wash it the same amount as usual.”

Gina could see Sammie take a deep breath before sitting back. “Let’s go!”

She placed Sammie’s hair in the sink and started washing it. “So, how do you like it here?”

“I like it. It’s different from where I lived before, but I like the people here. I think I found a good group, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Gina said as she started adding shampoo. “Good crew. I’ve known Mally and Andre since elementary school. I think we’re all pretty likeable.”

“Yeah, and the other people in my classes are nice, too,” Sammie said. “Not that I’d hang out with most of them, but they’re nice.”

“Mhm,” Gina said absentmindedly as she rinsed the shampoo and started combing conditioner through Sammie’s hair.

“I can’t wait to just get to know more people, you know? Like I’ve been talking with some of my other classmates and I forgot how fun it is to talk to different people and get their perspectives on things.”

“Yeah,” Gina agreed. “Sit up, your hair is clean. I gotta dry it a bit.”

Sammie leaned forward in the chair as Gina pulled the towel that was sitting on her shoulders up to rub her hair dry. “I’m overall liking it here. I was nervous, but everyone has been really nice and no one’s really bullied me or anything.”

“Yeah, most of the people at our school are nice. It’s actually not too bad. I’ve heard South is way more toxic than our school.” Gina grabbed the clips and then pulled a comb out of one of the drawers. “Hold these,” she said, handing the clips to Sammie. She then ran the comb around Sammie’s head, grabbing the top section with one hand and a clip with the other. “Turn around, does that look good?”

“Yeah, that’s not too much,” Sammie said as she looked in the mirror.

“Okay, I’m gonna straighten out the part there then. Uh, you can continue what you were saying,” Gina said as Sammie turned back to face the wall.

“It’s just a decent environment, better than my old school. Even the worst people here are generally better than at my old school.”

“Yeah,” Gina said. “Okay, hair dye next. You ready?”

“Do it.”

“Okay,” Gina said as she slid on the gloves and opened the package of dye. She mixed it up and started scooping small handfuls onto Sammie’s hair. “Yeah, I’d say the worst person at our school is probably Logan, and she’s pretty bad, so the people at your school must have been terrible.”

“She’s not that bad,” Sammie said. “She’s in my English, and she seems pretty nice.”

“Trust me, she’s not.” Gina combed her fingers through Sammie’s hair. “She’s rude and a bully.”

“Huh, I haven’t seen that,” Sammie admitted. “She seems pretty… normal, I guess.”

“Don’t hang out with her, trust me. Mally and Andre can vouch for me. Just don’t.”

“Okay, I guess I can do that.”

They sat in silence, Gina combing her fingers through Sammie’s hair to make sure it was fully covered. “Your hair looks good, now we wait,” she said, pulling the gloves off and throwing them in the garbage next to the toilet. “Uh, do you wanna do nails while we wait?”

“Sure,” Sammie said. “I can do yours, if you go grab colours.”

Gina nodded before heading back to her room. That was… strange, right? How Sammie had talked about Logan? What was up with the two of them, anyways? Gina wasn’t sure, but hopefully it was just a misunderstanding on Sammie’s part. Logan was bad news, and the two of them hanging out was worse news.

She grabbed a couple colours; sparkly black and her favourite purple. She brought them back to the bathroom and sat down on the floor in front of Sammie. She’d been doing something on her phone while Gina was in her room, and Gina sat for a moment before she put her phone away. “Sorry, I had to respond to a couple messages.”

“That’s okay. Here, here’s my colours.” She put one hand up and Sammie opened the bottle of purple. She started applying the colour with an ease Gina had never been able to master.

“We should listen to music,” Gina said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. She opened her Spotify and scrolled through her playlists until she found one that wouldn’t totally embarrass her.

“Oh, this is a bop,” she said as the first song came on.

“Oh, yeah!” Sammie said, grinning. She started singing along. “You would not believe your eyes…”

Gina joined in. “If ten million fireflies…”

“Lit up the world as I fell asleep,” they sang in unison. They sang the whole song, relishing each other’s company. By the time the song was over, the first coat on Gina’s nails was finished, and Sammie was on the second coat.

“That was good,” Sammie said, almost breathless.

“Yeah,” Gina laughed. “Ooh, this next one is good. I’ve been cheated by you since I don’t know when…”

“So I made up my mind, it must come to an end,” Sammie joined in. She finished the final coat of polish on Gina’s nails before the song ended.

“Alright, your nails are done, just let them dry and we can rinse my hair.”

“The bottom drawer on your left, there’s a hair dryer. We can dry my nails faster,” Gina said. She paused the music as Sammie plugged it in. She put her hands out in front of her as Sammie turned it on and aimed it at Gina’s nails.

They sat in relative silence, the only noise being the hair dryer. Not quite silence, but one sound enveloping the small room. After about five minutes, Sammie turned it off and said, “Try that.”

Gina tentatively touched her pinky nail. “Dry,” she said, standing up. “Now for your hair.”

She turned the sink back on as Sammie leaned back once more. Gina combed her fingers through Sammie’s hair, turning the water in the sink bright pink. After a few minutes of rinsing, she said, “I think you’re good. Let’s blow it dry.”

Sammie handed her the dryer from where it had been sitting in her lap. Gina switched it on and started blow drying her friend’s hair. She pulled the clip out and ran her fingers through until she determined it was dry. Gina turned off the hair dryer and unplugged it. “Ready for the final reveal?”

Sammie nodded with a nervous smile. She stood up and turned around. “Oh my gosh I love it!” she cried. “It’s so beautiful! Thank you!”

Gina smiled. “It turned out nicely,” she said. “Not gonna lie, I was a bit nervous too.”

“You were?” Sammie asked. “You did it so well! I can’t stop looking at it!”

“Ah, it was nothing. But my nails! You made it look so easy! I always get it all over my fingers and then have to wipe it off.”

“I did my nails a lot in middle school.”

“Makes sense.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Gina added, “We should clean this up, and it’s getting late. I can drive you home.”

“Yeah, you’re right. A ride would be great.” Sammie grabbed the towel and the chair and asked, “Where do these go?”

“Uh, the towel can go on the hook behind the door there,” Gina pointed. “And the chair goes in the garage. Do you mind taking it down there while I finish cleaning up the garbage?”

Sammie nodded and took the chair downstairs. Gina grabbed the rest of the garbage, threw it away, and brought the nail polish and the rest of the hair dye back to her room. She set them on her dresser and ran downstairs.

“C’mon, let’s go,” she said to Sammie as she entered the garage. She hopped in the driver’s seat as Sammie climbed in next to her.

“This was fun,” Sammie said Gina started backing out.

“Yeah, it was.” Gina realised this was the perfect time to admit something that had been pulling at her stomach all week. “Uh, Sammie, uh, I dunno how to say this. It’s only been, what, a week since you came, but I really-” She stopped herself and swallowed.

“I like you.”

The words hung there, suspended between them for what felt like an eternity. Gina couldn’t take her eyes off the road, wouldn't let herself. She was scared, but she couldn't take the words back.

Sammie gulped loudly enough for Gina to hear before saying, “I think I might like you.”

They didn’t live far apart, and that short ride had already brought them into Sammie’s driveway. Gina parked and neither girl said anything. She turned to face Sammie and saw Sammie staring at her.

Gina could see Sammie unbuckle her seatbelt, but nothing could have prepared her for Sammie to lean over and kiss her. It was so sudden, she hadn’t even registered what was happening until it was over. Sammie had opened the door and was climbing out of the car.

“Bye!” she called as she slammed the door shut and ran into the house, and just like that, she was gone.

Gina sat there, absolutely shocked. Of all the things she had expected to happen that day, that was not one of them. But Sammie had disappeared inside. There was nothing for Gina to do except drive home and hold the secret tight. That experience, that moment, was going to stay in this car, and Gina couldn't do anything about it, so she didn’t try to fight it. Instead, she drove home and tried not to think about it. After all, what else could she do?

#jolie's shitty writing

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twokinkybeans · 3 years

Text

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career.

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty. “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had.

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface. “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment.

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

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flatstarcarcosa · 3 years

Text

favors and heists

notes: i gave myself brain worms while roping @dadbodsandbots into my mass effect insert shenanigans by using her mans so I had to shake some of them loose. this turned out to be kinda fun, actually, for a change :3

also tags @jackals-ships while making pspspsps noises

summary: what's the point of your best friend dating a galaxy-renown mercenary if not for the favors you can squeeze out of the deal?

zaeed takes a charity case.

ship(s): stubborn goddamn jackasses, cat/digs (boomcat? harcat?)

******

The door alarm has been chiming for four minutes. Pressing the override button on his omni-tool shuts it off for a few scarce seconds, only for whoever is outside to activate it again. Finally, Zaeed gives up on ignoring it and wrenches the damn thing open manually. The metal squeals in protest before the hydraulics correct themselves.

"The hell do you want?" he asks, frowning. Cat stands in the door way with barely contained tears in her eyes.

"My final thesis is due next week and the whole argument hinges on this 18th century painting and-"

"Dooooon't care," Zaeed drawls as he goes to manually pull the door shut again. She lunges forward, getting a shoulder and half a leg across before the safety catch feels an obstruction and stops.

"-and it got stolen and if I have to report it to my boss I'm not only gonna fail the program but I'll never work in this industry again!" she blurts. Zaeed has already turned his back towards her and is cussing at his omni-tool's refusal to force the door shut.

"Don't caaaaaaaaare," he says.

"You gotta help me get it back!" she cries, "That fucking asshole Harkness stole it and if he gets too far I'll never see it again!"

Zaeed stops, shoulders sagging. He holds up a finger and turns.

"When you say Harkness-"

"Yeah, Digger," Cat sniffs. "You know, Captain Boom-"

"Will willingly shoot my other eye out before I call him that, thanks," says Zaeed. He goes silent for a moment, and then lets out a frustrated growl and runs a hand over his face. "All right, fine. But only because I've still got a grudge against that jackass I've been meaning to settle."

She looks up, elation flashing across her face.

"Really?! I mean, I can hire you, too, so-"

Zaeed snorts.

"You don't make near enough to hire me," he says. "Especially not if you want him alive, although honestly, that part isn't up to you." He steps out of sight into the other room, and Cat wanders into the kitchen to blow her nose on a wad of paper towels.

"Where was he last?" Zaeed asks.

"I mean, my office," she calls back. He steps back around the corner, the top half of his armor undersuit hanging around his waist.

"I meant where was he before he stole the painting?"

"Oh!" she pauses. "I...dunno, some hotel down on Silversun."

Zaeed hums, and pulls his arm through the sleeve on his suit. He drags a footlocker over to the sofa and plops down, bending over to unlock the lid.

"How'd Harkness get into your office, anyway?" he asks. "It's not exactly publicly accessible."

"Uh- I...I don't know," she stammers, "he's a thief, that's what he does!"

Zaeed quirks an eyebrow at her as he laces his boots.

"Uh-huh," he says. "And he just happened to have decided to specifically case your office for one painting..."

"Yeah."

"Your office, which is in a moderately secured area in the Citadel Tower," he continues. He raises an eyebrow at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah," she says again, voice tight. "Why?"

"No reason," he says. Motorized armor joints lock into place with mechanical whirring, and she watches him strap a pistol and a sniper rifle in place. "Here's the thing, if he's already jumped ship and left the Citadel, I'm not chasing him all over. This lasts until I decide the amusement isn't worth the lack of money. Matter of fact, you knowing Reese is the only reason I didn't tell you to fuck off and throw you out."

"A fact which I am heavily aware of," says Cat.

"Long as we're on the same page," says Zaeed. "Might as well wait here, I doubt this is gonna take too long."

"Hey," says Cat, "wait a second. How do you know him, anyway?"

Zaeed clicks his tongue.

"Got unlucky enough to be on a job with him once," he says. "Stupid little fuck nearly got me killed. Spent four weeks healing from that."

"Oh," she says.

"Granted, wasn't the same as getting half my face blown off," he adds, "but it was still enough that I've had it in for him ever since."

"You're not actually going to kill him, are you?" she asks. Zaeed shrugs as the door slides open.

"That depends on him, love," he says.

"Oh," she says. Before she can get another word out, Zaeed steps into the hall and leaves her alone. She sighs and sits down on the sofa. "Well, that's just fucking great."

******

It takes less than five hours to track Harkness down. After checking out of his hotel earlier that morning, he'd stuck around the Silversun Strip rather than booking a flight off the Citadel.

For some reason that Zaeed can only chock up to the man being an absolute fucking idiot, he didn't consider that wandering around with a medium sized painting under his arm was going to make him stick out to the residents.

Only on the Silversun Strip would one get away with that without C-Sec getting called and dropping down on your ass. Try it up on the Presidium and every rich asshole with a penthouse would be ringing the emergency numbers for 'suspicious activity' while triple locking their doors.

Tucked away in a back alley and away from the main attractions of the Strip is a little pawn shop run by, who Zaeed assumes, are the only Batarians to have a permanent residence on the Citadel. There's an old fashioned bell hanging above the door and it jingles when he walks through. It catches his attention for a moment, and he glances up at it, wondering where the aliens picked up that detail about human stores.

Behind the sales counter, a bored looking Batarian is standing with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering with all four eyes at the man in front of him.

"Come on mate," says the Australian. He's leaning over the painting, so focused on his attempts at hocking it that he either didn't hear the door bell, or isn't interested enough to turn around. Zaeed catches the gaze of the sales clerk, and holds a finger to his lips.

"I said no," the Batarian growls, looking back at the would-be customer.

"All right, fine, screw giving me what it's worth," the man continues, "we'll settle for 60% and then I can be on me way."

"You think I'm so stupid or naive I don't know stolen merch when I see it?" asks the Batarian. "I know enough about you humans and your squabbles to know there's no amount of credits worth getting involved in this kinda shit.

"Harkness, why don't you do something useful and stop pestering this poor Batarian?" Zaeed asks, interjecting only when he's close enough to Digger Harkness that the sound of his voice makes the man jump. "Bad enough the poor bastard has to walk around looking like that every day of his life, he doesn't need you coming in here and cocking everything up for him."

The Batarian sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Is it asshole human day today and no one told me?" he asks. "Oh wait, I suppose that's every day, isn't it?"

"Goddamn right it is," Zaeed says. Harkness turns around, nervousness clear on his face.

"Zaeed," he says, slowly, "well, I'll be...funny running into you out here, eh?" He reaches behind himself, fumbling his hand across the counter as he searches blindly for the painting. Zaeed is faster, and snatches it out from under him.

"Lets go," he says, gesturing towards the door. "You know why I'm here."

"Aw, c'mon-" Harkness' protest is cut short by Zaeed grabbing his wrists and slapping a pair of electrified cuffs on them. He shoves the man forward, and then tosses a credit chit down onto the counter.

"You see a couple of human males today?" he asks the Batarian. The alien grunts, considering him for a moment before reaching down and snapping up the chit.

"Been a slow day, I haven't seen anybody," he says, shrugging. Zaeed nods.

"Good man," he says. He shoves Harkness towards the door again. "Get moving."

The bell above the door rings as the two leave, and Harkness turns, walking backwards with his arms locked in front of him as he addresses Zaeed.

"Well, I'm simply stumped," he says, "can't for the life o' me figure who I pissed off enough to hire you." Zaeed says nothing, and simply motions with his pistol for him to keep walking.

Harkness faces foward and catches sight of the skycar parked at the end of the alley. It's not the best area to try and make a mad dash for freedom, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna give it a go.

"How'd you even get into the Citadel Tower to get a hold of something like this, anyway?" Zaeed asks, holding the painting up to get a good look at it. He's never understood fuck all about art and it's not one of those especially famous pieces that he'd even recognize anyway, so he doesn't bother theorizing on why it's so important to Cat's thesis.

"Oh, you know," says Harkness, "made a friend."

"Find that hard to believe," Zaeed drawls as he tucks the painting back under his arm.

"Oi, I'm quite suave when I want to be!" Harkness stops walking again, turning with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Though, some people are just easier to woo."

"Yeah, that sounds more like you, doesn't it?" Zaeed narrows his eyes. "Making a mark out of some poor girl that always sees the best in people."

Harkness blinks.

"Hang on," he breathes, "how do you know that? Don't tell me she's the one that hired you!"

"Course not," Zaeed snorts, "like I told her, she can't afford to hire me. This is a favor for a friend."

"Well shit mate! In that case, why don't you an' I work out a deal, yeah?" The grin is back, and Zaeed makes a point of ignoring him as he opens the skycar door and lays the painting in the back seat. "You ain't on an official contract, I see no reason why you an' I as two consummate professionals can't come to some sort of arrangement that benefits us both!"

"There's an exhaustive list of reasons why that won't be happening," Zaeed says, crossing his arms. "At the top of which is simply the fact that I can't goddamn stand you."

"Fair enough," says Harkness, "But Zaeed, come on, mate! As it happens right now, you're not making any money on this! That's a problem for you, and I can fix that real easy. You just slip these bracelets off me, let me be on my merry way, and recoup credits for your time. Anyone asks, I was too slippery to get a hold of, we all move on."

"No," Zaeed says. "Get in the goddamn car before I knock you out and shove you in the trunk."

Harkness groans, and bounces on the balls of his feet in frustration.

"Come on," he says again, "we both know at the end of the day lining your pockets is the only thing you really care about, so why don't you-"

Zaeed lunges faster than a half blind old merc has any right to move, and Harkness lets out a strangled yell as he punches him in the kidney with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He's wheezing as Zaeed shoves him into the alley wall, hanging onto him by the collar of his coat and lifting him off the ground.

"Listen to me, you stupid fucking jackass," Zaeed growls, "I'm not remotely young enough or stupid enough to not know exactly how you got access to Cat's office. That girl is the only person Reese knows that isn't a killer or a junkie or some fucked up combination of both, and the last thing she needs is to be caught up with likes of you and I."

Harkness says nothing as he gasps again, and waits on his lungs to remember how to take in air.

"I care about her well-being for my own selfish reasons because of her proximity to Reese, and I recognize that doesn't put me in a position of dictating to her who she spends her time with," Zaeed continues, "but so help me, you cause so much as a minor inconvenience for her and I will carve out your goddamn eyes, sew your mouth shut and sell you to Batarians as discounted slave labor, are we goddamn clear?"

Harkness manages half of a choked, garbled word and gets his head bounced off the wall for his effort.

"That didn't sound like a yes to me," Zaeed growls.

"Y-yes," he says. Zaeed slams him against the wall once more for good measure before dropping him.

"Get in the goddamn car."

******

The rental apartment Reese and Zaeed have been staying in isn't much to come home to. Far from the worst place they've ever holed up, sure, but that's never been a very high bar to begin with.

Regardless, as he pushes Harkness through the doorway and pauses long enough to set the painting down on an end table, he does reflect on the warm lightning in the corners and the smell of a beef roast being pulled out of the oven.

It's temporary and it's barely big enough for the two of them to move without tripping over each other, but it is home.

"You found it!" Cat appears in the archway to the kitchen, and Reese looks up over the counter. Their eyes glance between Zaeed and Harkness and the painting, and they quirk an eyebrow in his direction. Zaeed responds with a subtle shake of his head.

Later, he mouths, reaching up to undo the clasps on his armor.

"Wasn't too much trouble," he says aloud. "Helps when you're being sent after a goddamn moron. I should take more offers like this, actually."

"Caaaaaat," Harkness purrs. He goes to hold out his arms, and stops when he meets the resistance from the cuffs. She bypasses him entirely to scoop up the painting and make sure it hasn't been damaged.

"You know, on a hunch I looked into something on the way to the Strip," Zaeed says casually. "C-Sec has multiple active bounties on him at the moment. Cashing in on just one of them would likely pay more than, well...whatever it is you even do currently."

Harkness lets out a nervous laugh and looks between Zaeed and Cat. She sets the painting down and regards him for a moment.

"Right now I'm more worried with getting this back before anyone notices it was gone," she says, causing Harkness to puff up slightly. He winks at Zaeed, only to stop at the look the other man sends his way. "It's unlucky for me the building is locked down for the day, though..."

"Sounds to me like you could use someone who knows his way 'round security systems," Harkness offers. Zaeed snorts, and Cat frowns. Silence stretches out for a moment, broken only by the sound of Reese turning on an electric carving knife.

"Okay, fine," Cat says when they've turned the knife back off. "But know that if we get caught, I'm telling them you kidnapped me and I can cry on command."

"Well now you're just talkin' dirty to me," Harkness says.

"Really?" Reese barks from the kitchen. "Some of us still gotta eat tonight."

Zaeed remains silent and utterly unreadable as he taps at his omni-tool. The handcuffs beep a few times before popping open and falling off. Harkness massages at one of his wrists, and manages to ignore the bait when Zaeed shoves into him on the way to the kitchen.

"If we leave now we should make it in and out without too much trouble," Cat says. Reese offers a wave.

"Call me when you get in," they say, "mostly so I know if anyone's gotta kill him later."

"Sure!" says Cat. She tucks the painting safely under an arm, and drags Harkness out into the hall by the collar of his coat. The door beeps as the automatic lock powers on, and Reese turns to lean against the kitchen counter.

"What?" Zaeed asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

Reese rolls their eyes and turns their attention back to the roast. "I leave for 20 minutes to get fucking dinner, and I swear to Christ..." they say, trailing off when Zaeed reaches around and snags a slice of beef.

"You do realize she's got absolutely horrid taste in men, right?" he asks. The top of the beer bottle pops with a resounding hssss, and he flicks it across the kitchen into the garbage can.

"Yeah, well, that's just something we got in common, I guess," Reese says.

"Oi," Zaeed protests. He takes a swallow of beer and reaches for another slice of meat, then stops. "Hang on, she can cry on command?"

"Yeah, fucking wild actually," says Reese. They frown. "Why?"

Zaeed is silent for a moment as he takes another sip of beer before answering.

"Goddammit."

#reese.fic #ship: stubborn goddamn jackasses #others: boomcat

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shotgun--rider · 3 years

Text

Rumor

A Jensen x Reader oneshot

Y/N’s never considered how many suspiciously snuggly photos there are of her and her best friend. Then they all come out in a Buzzfeed article, published just in time for everyone to grill her during her solo panel. Now what?

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Really dumb fluff, everyone’s anxious, Jared and Briana are sick of everyone’s shit

A/N: This is dumb and fluffy and dangerously song-fic territory but it showed up and demanded to be written so here you go. I have no idea if this is actually any good. Enjoy?

---------* ---------

You were the epitome of normal, growing up. You had decent grades, run-of-the-mill hobbies, and an average high school cashier job. You could hop on your bike (and later, borrow your parents’ car) and take yourself to the coffee shop, or to a friend’s, and the only people that would look twice at you were drivers checking to make sure the kid on the bike didn’t steer into traffic.

You didn’t win any “most likely to” awards in the yearbook, your college major was undecided for an embarrassing length of time, and your 300-odd Instagram followers were comprised of friends and some polite acquaintances from welcome week. And you didn’t mind. You were perfectly happy to go through your day-to-day without turning heads and making waves.

That was all before you’d answered an open casting call on a whim, strapped for cash and mostly there because a sparkly website proclaiming “50 Easy Side Hustles!” had suggested spending your weekends as an extra if you lived in a big filming city. Before your three-episode contract in a show you’d never bothered to watch turned into a series regular.

Now, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your face splashed across the internet every time you stick a toe off the end of your L.A. property line. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there to get you in Page Six with some wildly exaggerated nonsense, a fan somewhere will snap a blurry photo and upload it somewhere for people to shout about you in the comments section. You’ve never gotten used to being tagged in edits of your own face, or watching your follower count creep steadily upwards. You’re just… you. You’ve always been just the normal, average girl from a nothing-special hometown.

Even after your third year running on Supernatural, you still forget. You still make it all the way to the end of the block before you remember that the person shouting your name is the bodyguard you accidentally abandoned two errands ago. You still get confused when the restaurant wait staff stares at you, still get annoyed calls from your publicist begging you to at least try to appear in fewer coffee shop paparazzi pictures looking like a disgruntled zombie who’s never seen a hairbrush. (Sue you, you can’t be expected to be functional before a cup of coffee.)

You’re a brilliant actress, an unexpected fan-favorite, relatable to everyone in your autograph line...and you’re kind of a terrible celebrity. Unlike certain child models turned actors straight at 18 you may know, this isn’t a world you were trained in. Which is probably why it doesn’t even occur to you that being caught frequently in the company of your best friend might look like something until you’re staring at your own name in a headline on your phone screen, in line at Starbucks before your first panel of the con weekend.

Y/N L/N’s Secret Relationship With Co-Star Jensen Ackles, howls the bold-printed headline, and you blink stupidly at the letters, uncomprehending, until you realize that someone’s trying to get your attention. “Sorry, what?”

The barista looks impatient, suppressing an eyeroll and starting her spiel before cutting off halfway with a squeak. “Oh, my god, you’re her! I’m sorry, I’m just… you’re literally my favorite!” She’s blushing and stuttering and has a near-death grip on the empty coffee cup she was preparing to write your name on.

“Oh,” you reply, forcing the fog of confusion from your brain and slapping on a smile. “Hi, you caught me.”

“Can I...um…” the girl reaches into her back pocket and sheepishly produces her cell phone, complete with a flaming pentagram case. “Um, selfie?”

You smile indulgently, leaning over the counter. The fans are one of the best parts, really, and it’s never a hardship to make someone smile. (That is, when they’re not selling rumors and lies to the tabloids, you think grumpily.)

The barista girl pulls back with a wide smile and a full-face blush, and keeps glancing shyly up at you while she punches in your usual order, plus the second coffee Jensen texted you this morning to beg for. “So I guess Jensen’s around here too, then, right?” she asks perkily, taking your card.

“Uh...sorry, what?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Since you flew in together,”

You blink rapidly, feeling stupid. You’re obviously missing the punchline somewhere. “We, uh...didn’t. I mean...I flew out of L.A.,” you say cautiously. Your home city is already public knowledge, as is the fact that Jensen lives in Austin, and you can’t imagine she doesn’t know this.

Her eyes pop wide with curiosity. “Wait, so you’re not staying with him?”

This conversation is too much for your poor, jetlagged, coffeeless brain. “No?” you try weakly, so far past confused at this point that you might actually be getting a headache. “Why would I…”

Not that Jensen’s Austin house isn’t lovely, and not that you’d object to staying there, and not that you haven’t stayed there plenty of times before, but you’re pretty sure you’re still missing the point.

The barista lunges forward over the counter, leaning in to ask in a hushed voice, “Did you guys break up?”

An emphatic “No!” leaves your mouth so loudly that the old man in line behind you starts grumbling. “No, you don’t--”

“Get a move on,” Old Man grouches in the background. “I don’t care who you are,”

“Oh, good,” the girl cuts you off with a relieved grin. “You guys are so cute, you know? I mean, I kinda figured you had to have something going on, but actually seeing it--it’s going to be so much cuter if Dean and Sierra ever kiss now, oh my god--”

She devolves into a squeal, and the we’re not actually dating dies on your tongue. You have better things to do this morning than correct the misinformation of one teenage barista, so you end up just shaking your head and taking the two cups of coffee wearily. “Right, well, I’ve gotta go, so--” you duck around the old man and beeline for the door before anyone can say anything else. Oh, god, your publicist is so going to kill you.

***

Jared and Jensen are both in the green room when you make it back to the convention hotel, and you groan softly as you walk into the room. Once Jared hears about your so-called relationship, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Then again, better he hear it from you than find it in the tabloids. May as well bite the bullet now before it comes up in a Q&A.

“Hey,” you slide up to Jensen’s elbow, holding out the requested coffee cup as a preemptive truce. “So, we’re apparently dating now,”

Jensen snorts, shaking his head and swapping the coffee cup into his other hand so he can wrap his arm around your shoulders in greeting. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I think I may have given a barista the impression we’ve had a tumultuous breakup,” you say ruefully, tilting your head up to look at him in apology. “Sorry,”

Jensen’s green eyes are dancing, though, and he throws back his head and laughs, still keeping you tucked close enough that you can feel his whole body shake. “Of course you did, sweetheart,”

It’s pretty much the reaction you expected from Jensen, who’s so used to your antics at this point that he just gives you a fond smile and moves on to damage control. Jared, on the other hand, is...not commenting, and suspicion cuts short your quiet enjoyment of being hugged against Jensen. It took the boys a while to feel comfortable messing with you when you first got on set, but after they figured out you gave as good as you got, they’d never yet missed an opportunity to tease and prank you.

You squint at Jared warily. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jared’s lips immediately start twitching, but he makes a valiant attempt at a mock-concerned face. “Oh shit, sorry. Here, tell me again and I’ll pretend like I’m surprised this time,”

Unwilling to bother unwinding yourself from under Jensen’s arm, you extend a childish foot in the direction of Jared’s shins, scowling at him. He dodges easily, laughing, and tosses out, “Someone should really tell Buzzfeed they’re reporting really old news,”

“Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Padalecki,” you shoot back without any real venom.

“Oh, you mean my hotel coffee? The coffee I got stuck with because you only buy Starbucks for Jensen?”

Jensen straightens up proudly, no doubt making a face at Jared over the top of your head. “Y/N just likes me better. That’s why she’s my best friend.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under Jensen’s arm and a few steps away. “You both suck,” you deadpan, resisting an internal wince at the friendzone. “Now shut up and let me drink my coffee, I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes,”

And God, but your head is way too scrambled for a panel right now. Fifteen minutes is nowhere close to enough time to get your shit together, and you’re going to have to somehow walk out there and not let everyone know.

You take a seat halfway across the room, watching Jared and Jensen still standing there, heads bowed together, arguing quietly about something. Jensen’s starting to wear an annoyed expression and he still manages to look beautiful and goddamnit this is how you got in trouble in the first place.

You scroll listlessly through your phone, a headache beginning behind your eyes, and freeze when you realize that you left the damn article open. The headline photo is a picture of you and Jensen on a sidewalk in L.A., caught mid-conversation with Jensen’s hand on your back and a stupid, dopey look on your face while you stare up at him like he hung the moon. Fuck, you’re an idiot.

A hasty scroll through the rest of the article reveals more of the same, and you could kick yourself for making your dumb crush so obvious. The photo captions are practically mocking you, labelled with things like “an intimate evening for Ackles and L/N” and, under a picture of the two of you at a beach, “We might be a little mad that the two most attractive people are together”.

Well, at least now you know what every single question at your panel is going to be about. And somehow you have to figure out how to play this off like it’s nothing. Of course I don’t have a crush the size of a mid-sized whale on Jensen, hahaha, that’s such a hilarious idea!

Your only saving grace is that clearly, Jensen doesn’t think anything of it. It’s nothing more than a brief joke to him and Jared, and as much as that should bring you relief, it still stings to know that he’s obviously never bothered to think of you that way. And why would he? For all Buzzfeed’s nonsense about you making an attractive couple, Jensen Ackles miles above your league.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Misha sitting down next to you, an easy smile on his face as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “So, welcome to the club,”

Typically, you and Misha are pretty close friends, but your patience is too short this morning for any of his shit. “What club?” you shoot back grumpily.

“People who the internet have declared in love with Jensen Ackles,” Misha returns, grinning like it’s obvious.

“Ha, ha. See, except when that happens to you, people think it’s funny,”

“It is funny,”

“Not for me!” you explode, belatedly wincing at your harsh tone. “You and Jensen fuck around on stage and that works for you. If I don’t get my shit together in the next five minutes, I’m getting my name dragged through stupid tabloids and laughed straight off the show because I couldn’t keep my goddamn stupid pathetic crush under control!”

“Hey,” Misha waits until you meet his blue eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Okay? It’s not,”

“Misha--”

“Y/N,” Misha returns firmly. “It’s going to be okay. Jensen would never let anything happen to you. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, nodding. Rationally, you know he’s right. But mostly, as much as you’re worked up about the panel, your fear is that Jensen is going to be the one laughing at you, and you don’t know how to explain that. “Yeah,” you say dully, just as a convention worker comes forward to collect you.

“If it’s really going to shit, I’ll come distract everyone,”

“Somehow, I think that would be worse,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you start walking to the stage. Breathe, Y/N. You’re fine.

You wait for the introductions to finish and take your place on the stage, a slightly breathy laugh escaping into the mic as you look out at the crowd. That is a lot of eyes watching your every move. And they’re on your side, you remind yourself. It’s the fans who’ve been tireless supporters of you and your character, this whole time.

“Hey, guys,” you clear your throat. “What’s up?”

You chatter for a while about whatever you can think of, telling an edited version of the grumpy Starbucks man this morning and rambling a little about Jared’s latest on-set antics. All too quickly, though, you run out of things to say, leaving you with no choice but to ask for questions.

At first, to your great relief, they’re pretty tame. You spend a solid few minutes breaking down Sierra’s latest character arc, and the time she’s spending hunting on her own. You do get a few questions about whether she and Dean could get together when she gets back with the brothers, but as long as it stays firmly in the realm of your characters, you’re not worried.

“And what’s your name?” You ask gently, trying to reassure the nervous young woman at the microphone.

“Uh, Y/N…”

“I love that name!” you wink at her, rearranging yourself in the chair to be more comfortable. “What do you want to know, Y/N?”

“Uh,” she stutters, her face blushing pink. “You’re my favorite actress, and, I, um,”

“That’s very sweet,” you interject, nodding to encourage her.

“I just, uh, really want good things for you, and I just wanted to ask if, um, areyoureallydatingJensen?” she spits out all in one breath. “Cause you deserve him,”

You blink, shifting in your seat. You’d arrived at the elephant in the room. Damn.

“Uh,” escapes your mouth as you frantically try to construct a diplomatic sentence. “No, actually, no, we’re not.” I wish. “The, um, the article was a surprise to us too!” You added a little shrug in as punctuation, trying to play it off.

“But you guys look so cute together!” Other Y/N exclaims. “He looks at you like--” she cuts off, biting her lip so hard you can see the white from the stage. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No worries,” you assure her casually, like you’re not dying to know what she was going to say. “Next question?”

The next one up is another young woman, this time much bolder in her question. “But if you were given the opportunity, would you date Jensen Ackles?”

God, Chuck, literally anyone please kill me. “I don’t know how to answer this without getting in trouble,” you finally laugh nervously. “This is a dangerous question,”

The audience all laughs loudly, some of them throwing out comments and suggestions. “In the interests of not getting killed in my bed tonight,” you say lightly when they’ve quieted. “I’m going to skip that question,”

There’s really no saving you, though. After that first question, it’s like a dam has broken and everyone wants to know about your relationship with Jensen. What do you think of his house in Austin and does he cook for you and what do you do between takes and where’s your favorite place to go together. Someone even asks if you’re hooking up even if you’re not dating, which you’re positive turns your face completely purple before you get through redirecting that fan.

An hour later, you stagger off the stage mentally exhausted and thoroughly grumpy.

“Ouch,” Briana sympathizes, sliding up beside you as you grab a water bottle in the green room.

“Can’t wait for my dumb red face to trend on Tumblr,” you mutter, wondering darkly if you could just jump out one of the windows.

Briana laughs like she knows something you don’t, and rubs a hand over your back soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you out of your head before your photos,”

The two of you end up on a walk a few blocks from the convention hotel, fresh coffees in hand and Briana chattering away while you nod along. It’s not that you’re tuning her out, exactly, you’re just...overwhelmed. You do, however, notice when she stops talking.

“Are you listening to me?” she looks at you sharply.

“Sorry, B,” you mumble. “Got distracted. What?”

Briana shakes her head with loving exasperation. “I asked what you’re wearing to karaoke tonight,”

“I’m probably not going to--” you start.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t leave me there alone,” Briana interrupts, folding her arms across her chest.

“What do you mean, alone? Kim and Rich and literally everyone will be there,”

“You are not allowed to skip karaoke.” Briana says firmly, and you suddenly know how her daughter must feel when she’s misbehaved. “Besides, Jensen’s singing with Louden Swain beforehand. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Fine. But I’m wearing this,” you gesture to your plain black top and jeans. To be honest, you’re not sure if you actually do want to see Jensen perform, or bother with the rest of karaoke night. Mostly you just want to crawl into bed and put the covers over your head and pretend that you haven’t been making a fool of yourself all morning, but Briana is a force of nature when she wants something.

She smiles excitedly at your acquiescence, pulling out her phone for a moment to type something before you start heading back.

You nudge her teasingly with your elbow. “Your phone more exciting than me?”

Briana just slides it away hastily before you can read more than Jared’s name over her shoulder. “Just taking care of something.”

There’s something she’s not telling you, but you don’t feel like digging right now. You’re just focusing on getting to the end of this convention without spilling all your secrets and looking like an idiot.

By the time you’re sitting down in the seats for Louden Swain’s set, your face is indeed all over Tumblr. (You always deny having the stupid app, but sometimes a girl’s gotta know what people are saying about her and her hot costars.) There’s comments full of stupid speculation that you’re hiding your relationship, including a whole thread about how you’re clearly hiding your secret threesome with Jensen and Misha. Great.

“Uh, okay,” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Jensen’s on stage in front of the microphone, holding his guitar. “This was not part of my original plan, so...if this goes badly, it’s all Jared and Briana’s fault.”

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as your gaze snaps immediately to Briana. Infuriatingly, your friend just shrugs.

“This is a cover of a song neither of us wrote,” Jensen continues, gesturing between himself and Louden Swain behind him. “But I thought it could be fitting,”

He’s nervous, you realize, watching the way he’s fiddling with his guitar strap while he talks. But you have no idea what he’s doing. And you have no idea why he didn’t tell you. The two of you always know what stupid thing the other person is planning, especially stunts in front of the fans. But clearly not this time. With a sinking sense of dread, you wonder if maybe he does hate you a little bit after today, and that article. Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to you. You swallow hard against the sting in your throat, and Jensen starts playing.

The opening chords are definitely from a country song you vaguely recognize from the radio, and you wonder why this is Jensen’s choice over one of his own songs.

“Girl, you know I've known you forever / How many nights we hung out together,”

Across the room, Briana has an enormous smile on her face.

“My boys are laughing and tap me on the shoulder / Making a motion like, ‘Could y'all get any closer?’” He punctuates the words with a little scowl in Jared’s direction.

“There's a rumor going 'round about me and you / Stirring up our little town the last week or two / So tell me why we even trying to deny this feeling / I feel it, don't you feel it too? / There's a rumor going 'round, and 'round, and 'round / What d'you say we make it true?”

There are a lot of people suddenly making noise around you as they come to the same realization that you are, but you’re frozen in your seat. The rumor is you. He’s talking about you. Jensen’s singing for you. And you should be elated but your mind is stuck on a loop of what the fuck there’s no way this is real.

You don’t even realize that the song is over until everyone is clapping and you’re still stuck staring with embarrassingly wide eyes, Jensen up on stage with an embarrassed dusting of red across his face and a slowly deflating expression.

“Hey,” Jared’s elbow digs hard into your ribs suddenly. “Please do something. I can’t take any more of him like this,”

“What--oh--shit!” spills out of your mouth as you stand hastily, your phone tumbling off your lap. “I’m just gonna--”

By some miracle, you make it through the crush of people and around to the backstage area, your heart racing unevenly in your chest. You have no idea what you’re supposed to say, or if Jensen will be there, or if you’re even interpreting this right. Maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. No, Jared wouldn’t have encouraged you if that were true. Would he?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you end up plowing straight into Jensen’s chest, his arm sliding automatically around your waist as you wobble off balance. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

He steadies you, green eyes searching your face with a flicker of vulnerability. “Hey,”

“Hey,” you whisper back. You have no idea what happens now.

With his free hand, Jensen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, if that was too much--”

“No!” you shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just...processing. I...it was really sweet, Jen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I just… me? Are you sure?”

“Why not you?” Jensen’s face wrinkles in confusion. He moves both hands to your waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin shirt as he tugs you closer. “Y/N,”

There’s something in you screaming that you might not get to do this again, that he’s going to come to his senses, that the whole thing is a dream, and before you can second guess yourself you launch yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss him.

Your arms go around his neck while Jensen wraps you up tighter against his chest and it’s not fireworks, or earth shattering, or anything so dramatic. His mouth moving against yours just feels like home and love and of course. Of course you were going to get here, of course it was going to be like this.

Jensen lifts you off your feet for a moment before breaking the kiss, and he looks just breathless and flushed enough that you’re equal parts proud and turned on.

“Of course it’s you,” he murmurs, one hand under your chin to tilt your head up to him. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.”

------

Something ate my taglist! If you want to be tagged, please message me!

#supernatural #jensen ackles #supernatural rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #spn #rpf #x reader #reader insert #oneshot

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celest1all · 4 years

Text

Howler

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Your parents are horrible to you, and they end up embarrassing in front of everyone in the Great Hall by sending you a howler. Draco helps you with the aftermath.

Warnings: Emotionally abusive parents?, sadness, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: I’m not sure if this is going to be triggering for some people, so if you think it might, I wouldn’t read this.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to ask!!

Find my other works here; masterlist

You had always found comfort in the Great Hall. How it would be decorated accordingly, the smell of the different varieties of food laid out on the table in front of you, and most of all, the atmosphere.

The atmosphere was something you couldn’t recreate. The laughter and chatter that filled the hall made you all giddy, it was a vast difference from what you got back at home.

You didn’t really enjoy talking about your home life. You didn’t like the sadness and anger that came along with it.

Since you were a pureblood, students knew of you and your status. And since you were one of the pureblood Gryffindor families, many others knew aswell. But what they didn’t know was what came along with it, what was behind closed doors.

Your life at home was terrible, really. Your parents hated you and they would make sure you knew it everyday. They didn’t physically hurt you, but the would emotionally. They would insult you, call you names, belittle you and even some times through you out the house.

McGonagall was one of the few, if not only one, to know what happened when you went home, so she tried her best to make sure you didn’t have to. You would forever be grateful for that.

Your life had been going okay recently. You had gotten closer — if that was even possible — to Hermione, Ron and Harry and surprisingly, Draco aswell.

But all good things must come to an end, unfortunately.

The christmas break was beginning to rear is ugly head and you weren’t excited in the slightest. Even though you didn’t have to go back home this time, you were still upset over the fact that your friends were. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all going to the burrow which made you even more upset. You would’ve thought that since you were extremely close to the Weasley family that they would’ve invited you round, but apparently not. You and Draco didn’t really have that kind of friend ship, yes you were friends, but the kind that would talk to each other when necessary and nod at one another in the corridor, so you weren’t particular sure if he was coming or staying.

You were sat in the Great Hall surrounded by all the other students. The hall was decked out in full Christmas decor, which oddly reminded you of home. Even though your family hated you, they didn’t seem to hate Christmas. But they didn’t actually let you do celebrate it with them, they locked you in your room where your only source of entertainment was singing christmas carols to yourself. Quite sad, really.

You pushed the food around your plate, feeling quite glum. This would probably be the last time you’d see your best friends for a while.

You out the fork down — more like threw it down — on the table with a huff. The three obviously realised and they all turned to you.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, a frown placed upon her face. You looked up from the table with a look that basically said isn’t it obvious?

“Right.” She nodded at you in understanding which made you have to fight off the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t mean to be in a mood with them, but the fact that you would be staying at Hogwarts wallowing in your own self pity, didn’t really put you in a particularly jolly mood.

There was a silence that blanketed over the four of you, which you basically created. You bit your lip, “I’m sorry.”

All of them had a look of sympathy directed at you. “I’m just not looking forward to staying here by myself, I guess.”

“You won’t be alone.” Harry said “Well, kind of. But Malfoy will be here.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “How’d you know whether or not he’s going to be here? I thought you hated him.”

“I heard him talking about it to Goyle.” You formed an O-shape with your mouth, finally understanding.

“I don’t think I’d be able to last two weeks with Malfoy.” Ron shuddered at the thought, making you laugh slightly.

“He’s not that bad,” you blurred out, knowing the others wouldn’t agree with you. “I mean, he’s a git but since I’ve got no one else to be with, he’ll do.” You turned back to face the table again, trying to hide your slightly red cheeks.

You could practically feel the stares of Ron, Harry and Hermione, but you tried to focus on something, anything else.

“Uh, Y/N?” Hermione asked, making you lift your head up to look at her. “Isn’t that your owl?”

She averted to her gaze to the bird that was currently flying the Great Hall, carrying something in it’s mouth.

“Yeah...” You frowned, confused as to why your bird was here and carrying something, none the less. You owl flew above the Gryffindor table and dropped the what you soon realised was a howler, on the table.

“Who’s it from?” Ron looked expectantly at you, “Your parents?”

Your heart stopped for a second, “Merlin, I hope not.” You mumbled. You tried to wrack your brain for who it could possibly be from, but you turned up empty.

“Go on then, open it!” Hermione urged, excitement lacing her tone. You looked at her with a sad excuse for a smile on your lips.

“I — er, okay.” You were so nervous that you didn’t realise that the Great Hall had gone almost silent and that your hands were shaking. You reached out to grab the howler, hoping that it wouldn’t be from...them.

You stared at it for a few seconds — or minutes — before you started to unseals the howler with quivering hands. You took a deep breath, trying to psych yourself up for what could possibly be inside. It couldn’t be from them, right? Why would they send you something? No, you were just overthinking this.

You finally managed to open the Howler and you felt yourself stop breathing. There was a beat of silence before the howler started shouting, filling the Great Hall.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice rang out, making you jump back in your seat. “You are no longer welcome at the Y/L/N home. Your father and I have realised that not only are you a disgrace to this family, but also the Y/L/N’s name. You will staying with your aunt from here on out, until you manage to get your life together. Don’t bother contacting us, thankyou.”

You could feel everyone’s gaze on you, which made you feel even more embarrassed. You willed the tears to stay in you eyes and not go below your waterline.

Clenching your jaw, you looked around briefly. The students that you caught the eyes of, quickly looked somewhere else. Mutters and laughter now replaced the silence. You didn’t know what was worse; silence or muttering and laughter. To be honest, you’d rather neither. You’d rather that your parents never sent you that stupid howler aswell.

“Y/N — ” Hermione started, before you cut her off.

“It’s fine,” you said, plastering a fake smile on your red face. “I’m fine. I — I gotta go, I’ll see you guys later.” You grabbed your stuff and practically ran out of the Hall, ignoring the calls of your friends.

****

Draco couldn’t believe what just happened. It was something he wished he never witnessed. He didn’t understand how someone like her could be hated by her family. There was nothing she could have done to have earned something like that, to be thrown out of her house and be called a disgrace.

The platinum blond wizard thought that her parents must have known what they were doing. They sent a bloody howler to Hogwarts, knowing full well she would’ve opened it infront of everyone.

He noticed the way she clenched her jaw, probably to stop herself from bursting into tears. She fled almost instantly after the howler tore itself up, but not before she bid her goodbyes to her friends. If she was able to say goodbye to her friends after that had just happened, then there’s no way she was a ‘disgrace’ to her family.

The Slytherin table erupted in laughter after she ran off, presumably laughing at her embarrassment. The only person who wasn’t laughing was Draco, he didn’t find it funny in the slightest.

After a few seconds of gripping the table so hard his knuckles turned white, he decided he had had enough of the mockery. Draco kept up from the table and followed her out, not wondering where she went, or even if she wanted to see him. However, some part of him knew that he had to talk to her, or atleast see if she was okay.

****

You had managed to find a vaguely empty corridor, which you were grateful for. But the event that transpired just moments ago still made you feel sick to your stomach.

You knew that you wouldn’t have made it any further without either throwing up or crying your eyes out — you weren’t entirely sure which one you were going to do — so you opted for leaning against the stone wall.

Deep breaths, Y/N. In, out. In, out. In — a voice calling your name made you turn. You expected it to be Hermione or even Harry, but no, it was Draco Malfoy.

“Y/N?” He said softly. You cursed inwardly at how pathetic you probably looked.

“Uh, hi.” You replied, wiping the tears away from your face.

He had a sympathetic look in his eyes, something you have rarely — if ever — seen before. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay, because I know you probably wouldn’t be after that.”

You chuckled slightly at his candor, “But do you want to talk about it?”

You widened your eyes slightly and you felt your heart rate pick up. Apparently Draco picked up on this since he backpeddled rather quickly, “If you don’t, that’s understandable.”

You wiped your face again, making sure any trace of tears had left. You sighed, fiddling with your hands slightly. “It’s my parents. They’re not particularly...friendly.”

You thought that Draco would’ve interrupted you, but he didn’t. He was waiting patiently, letting you talk until you were finished. You scoffed at your wording, “They aren’t friendly at all. They, uh, they hate me. A lot. Hence the reason they threw my out and called me a disgrace.”

You scratched the back of your neck, and looked him in the eyes. “In my family, if they call you a disgrace, it normally means that you are no longer a part of the family. They cut ties with you and they couldn’t care whether you lived or died, really.”

The wizard nodded his head in understanding. “It’s fine, though.” You sent a watery smile his way.

“It’s not fine, Y/N.” He said. You suddenly felt a wave of sympathy. Not for yourself, but for Draco.

“I’m sorry.” You bit your lip. “You can go, I didn’t mean to rope you into all... this.” You motioned time yourself.

Malfoy shook his head almost instantly, “It’s okay, really. I want to help, if I can.”

You looked up at him and smiled, a proper smile. “You’re helping just by being here.”

He felt his heart skip slightly at your smile. Yes, you still had slight tear stains on your face, but to Draco, you looked angelic. And he still didn’t understand how your parents could hate an angel like you.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked.

“Why do my parents hate me?” You replied, Draco giving you a slight nod in return. “Probably because they didn’t give birth to a boy. I don’t know, don’t really care. Not anymore, anyways.”

There was a brief moment of silence, which Draco took advantage of. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?” He asked before even realising he had said anything.

You snapped your head up, a blush gracing your cheeks. “How? Everyone’s going back home, there’s not going to be a trip to go on.”

“Who said we were going on a trip with everyone?” He smirked, realisation hitting you.

“Uh,” You couldn’t think of the right words. You never were allowed to go to Hogsmeade, your parents never signed the letter to let you go. “Sure!”

You and Draco smiled at each other, “Great!”

“Oh, and thank you.” You said, confusion now etched onto his face. “For coming to see if I was okay when no one else did.”

“It’s no problem.” He replied. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You nodded at him, still smiling. “Goodnight, Draco.”

The two of you turned and walked back to your common rooms, excitement and happiness running through both your veins. For the first time, you were excited for Christmas and what it had to hold. And for the first time, Draco felt like he had found someone who saw who he actually was.

tag list: @accio-rogers / @angelinathebook / @strawberriesonsummer / @theojuicee

#draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy x you #angst #reader insert #fluff

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strawberrywritings · 4 years

Note

Hey m’dear! Could I please request #134: “My love for you is like a disease. And it’s probably terminal.” With Coco? Like maybe he feels like he’s gonna ruin the reader but then she shows him just how much he deserves to be loved and cherished?? A little angsty, fluffy and possibly smutty?? I’m so sorry if this is overly complicated!!! Love your work and thank you for tagging me in it!!! Have a great day, love ya!!

A/N: Don’t worry, it’s fine. I had to make the smut part a bit shorter because exams are calling and I gotta study. Have a great day, too! x

/ Masterlist

Warnings: unprotected sexual intercourse

Summary: Coco breaks up with you over text, you decide to go and find out why

When you woke up, Coco was gone. His job at the taller and the club kept him pretty busy, you always understood that, but lately he had been even busier. You got to the kitchen, eating breakfast while switching on your phone; some missed calls, some text, and a text from your boyfriend: “We’re done, pack my things and leave them outside in a box, or throw them away. I don’t care”. You frowned and tried to call him, once, twice, always having the call go to voicemail. What was he talking about? He came home to you yesterday and everything was fine. Had something happened? You decided to find out by going to clubhouse unannounced.

When you got there, Angel, Ez and Gilly were working on the bikes, you could see Chucky in the office, but Coco was nowhere in sight. You huffed and your first step were the boys. “Hey guys, I’m very sorry to bother, have you seen Coco?”, they all shook their head. “Nah, not this morning, hasn’t showed up yet”, Gilly answered. “Thanks, have good day!”, you waved, making your way to the next step, Chucky. Knocking on the door of the office, you opened it once he called to come in, smiling as you asked if he’d seen your boyfriend. “Not today, Miss Y/N”, you smiled at him, thanking him and going into the clubhouse. Bishop was sat at a table having a smoke and Coco was nowhere to be found, again. “Hey, Obispo, sorry to bother, but I can’t find Coco… and I’m worried that something happened”. He looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed and you recounted what happened, and by the end of your little monologue, you were crying. Coco really had left you with a fucking text. Bishop told you he hadn’t seen him yet, but when he did, he would let you know. “No, no, it’s fine, really, doesn’t matter. He made his choice”, you wiped your tears and Bishop made a mental note to have Coco fix this shit and apologize to you.

You got up, ready to go home and get rid of his stuff just like he asked you. When you turned around, though, your eyes met: he was standing near the entrance of the clubhouse, your eyes locked on his, he noticed your eyes were red and you must’ve cried. He felt like shit, but he had a reputation to keep up, so he simply made his way to the counter and opened a pack of cigarettes, ignoring you completely. “Can you at least tell me why? Do you have someone else?”, your voice made him turn back around but he didn’t answer. He turned bac towards the counter and you humourlessly chuckled, “You’re giving me the silent treatment. Really? I should be the one not talking to you! I deserve to know why you left me all of sudden, don’t you think?”. You were angry, now. “It’s not you, it’s me” his words were quick, and he had really hoped you’d buy his stupid excuse. Of course, that didn’t happen. “Bullshit! I know that’s not true”, your voice cracked at the end and he heard it, but still didn’t say anything else. All eyes in the clubhouse were on you and him, some of the guys got back inside after hearing the commotion and now Coco couldn’t escape the consequences of his actions. Ez grabbed your hand and pulled you away from where you stood, now full on crying, and offered you a glass of water, along with a hug. You cried into him, “I just want to know what if I did something wrong, why I wasn’t enough”, you sobbed and Ez looked at Coco with a scowl on his face. Angel doing the same once he saw the situation inside.

Coco got up from the stool, grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into an empty room, closed the door. “Why the fuck would you come here, hm? Didn’t you get the message?”, he was almost screaming, his eyes wide and fists balled at his sides. “Yeah, I did, and that’s why I’m here! I wanna understand what the fuck is going on, you can’t just leave me with a fucking text for nothing!”, you were really trying to keep your cool, but it was difficult when he was giving you such a hard time understanding him. “There I nothing to say. We. Are. Done. You can’t be around me anymore”, he had lighted another cigarette in between all the screaming and he took a long drag from it. “But why!” “Because I love you too much!”. So it was really the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ excuse. And that made you even angrier. “Please explain to me how that’s a bad thing”. “My love for you is like a disease. And it’s probably terminal!”, he finally shouted, and you couldn’t say anything. You were suddenly froze in place. “I am afraid I’m going to fucking ruin your life just like how I ruin everyone else’s. I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially because of me. I’m sorry, fuck, but I really can’t let you destroy your life. You gotta stay away from me”, he turned around, probably headed to the door of the room, but you stopped him but grabbing his hand. “It is my decision whether I want to be away from you or not. And I don’t want to. Don’t you see how much I love you?”, your eyes were sincere as they looked at him, and he felt like they could see his soul. “I don’t care if you fuck up, I’m always going to be here for you, no questions asked. I love you; I know what you do, and I don’t care. As long as you love me, I’m fine with everything else that may happen”, by the end of your ramble, you were standing directly in front of him and he felt like he could cry. You were really in for the long ride. And that also made him horny, nothing aroused him more than loyalty and being wanted.

He grabbed your face and smashed his lips on your, the kiss deep and needy. It took Coco a total of three minutes to have you naked and moaning his name, your legs around his waist as he fucked you, your back leaning on some random furniture. “Tell me you need me”, he was panting and he bit down on your neck, leaving a mark. “I need you, Coco, please”. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your mouth open and you were sure the people in the other room didn’t have to guess what was happening in here. “Fuck, you’re so good to me, querida”, he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it, and that was your cue. Your orgasm was strong and it triggered his own, milking him as he kept thrusting into your pulsing cunt. He inevitably slowed to a stop, staying still with you in his arms, both of you regaining you breath.

Later that day, he told you about his family, his mom, his daughter that had just showed up, and you listened to him. “I don’t care about these things, the only thing I care about is your love. I’m fine with everything else, really”. The day after, you met his daughter and it took a while for her to get used to you, but you started to get along, eventually moving in all together. Coco happier than ever to see his two favourite girls interact and being a family.

#coco cruz x reader #coco cruz imagine #mayans imagine #my writing

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