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fadedin2u · 4 months

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pick up and roll the dice - ch. 3

read in between the lines, i know you love me…

summary: you plan a surprise for ellie’s birthday, and ellie’s doesn’t know what to do about her overwhelming feelings for you.

content: college!au, childhood best friends!au, dealer!ellie, fem!reader, modern!au, ellie is a simp (not surprising), ur also a simp, art major!ellie, kinda slow burn??

word count: 2k

warnings: none really for this chapter!! expect nsfw chapters in the future so MDNI 18+

notes: it bums me tf out how little attention ellie fluff gets on tumblr, but i love writing this series, so if u like to read it, like/reblogs are SO appreciated

read chapters one and two here!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The day after the party, Ellie’s a wreck. She barely got a wink of sleep that night, unable to stop ruminating on how much she’s fucking up her friendship with you by having this soul-consuming want for you. It’s not like Ellie doesn’t know how bad this could all end. You’re not only her closest friend, one of the few people she actually trusts, but you’re her goddamn roommate. If Ellie fucks this up, there’s no escaping the awkwardness that would inevitably ensue, plus risk losing you completely.

So, she texts Kylie.

E: hey, sorry for going MIA lmao, things got busy, would u wanna grab dinner w me on friday?

Ellie sits down on her bed and rubs her temples. She doesn’t even like Kylie very much, but she’s available, and she’s clearly interested in Ellie, so at the very least Kylie can be a distraction from you.

Ellie feels a black hole of guilt swirling in her stomach from leading Kylie on, but it dissipates as quickly as it came on when you burst through into dorm, kicking off your shoes that you wore to your morning classes. Ellie, usually, is still asleep when you leave for classes, but this morning, she was just lying in bed, completely awake, as she listened to you getting ready, pushing through your hangover.

“Happy 20th Birthday eve!” You exclaim, giving Ellie a bright, cheeky grin.

She rolls her eyes, trying to conceal her smile, “You’re such a fucking dork.

You shrug and laugh, “Hey, it takes one to know one.”

You notice the dark circles under her eyes and frown slightly, “You look like shit.”

Ellie huffs a laugh, “Thanks.”

You sit across from Ellie on your own dorm-style twin bed. “You’re free tomorrow, right?”

Ellie nods, “I’m getting breakfast with Joel that morning, but yeah, I’ll be free after.”

You grin, and mischievous look on your face, “Good.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, “Should I be worried?”

You shake your head, “Nah, you’ll love it. I just can’t wait to see your reaction. Just make sure you’re here at the dorm by 5pm, okay?”

Ellie puts up her hand, raising two fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

You snort, standing up to walk to the bathroom, “That’d probably mean more if you were actually a Scout.”

Ellie scoffs, “I know way more about survival than any of those dipshits, I’m basically an honorary scout, if you think about it.”

You rolls your eyes and laugh, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Els.”

—————

The next day, Ellie’s playing the guitar that Joel made her for her birthday when you walk into the dorm at 5pm sharp.

“Happy Birthday Ellie-Bellie!” You exclaim, knowing her deep-seated hatred for her childhood nickname as you throw a handful of streamers in her direction.

She keeps herself from laughing, “You’re cleaning that up, right?”

You give her a look, “No, I was planning on making you my maid on your birthday. Now come on, we need to get going!”

She puts her guitar to the side and stands up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her t-shirt and cargo pants with her hands.

“Is that from Joel?” You ask, motioning to the guitar.

Ellie nods and smiles wide, “Yeah, he made it for me, it’s super sweet.”

You examine the guitar’s craftsmanship as Ellie laces up her converse.

“You’re not driving right?” She asks.

You give her another look, “I have to, it’s a surprise destination. You can’t drive somewhere you don’t even know you’re going to.”

She groans, “And to think I didn’t even give Joel a proper goodbye.”

You kick her shin playfully, “Shut up, you’ll be fine. I’m an… okay driver.”

Ellie starts walking out of the dorm building with you, “Does an ‘okay driver’ almost commit vehicular manslaughter twice?”

Your face goes hot, “Those kids appeared out of no where, and I stand by that. Besides, the key word is ‘almost’, babe.”

Ellie doesn’t look convinced.

“Besides, you get to be my passenger princess for today,” You say with an obnoxiously cocky grin as you walk into the parking lot.

Ellie rubs her face, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You giggle and walk up to your car, opening the passenger door for Ellie, to which Ellie rolls her eyes at, but you can see that she’s trying not to smile.

You hop in the driver’s seat and say, “Birthday girl gets aux.”

Ellie plays a lot of 80s music during your drive into the city to her surprise destination, her taste in music developed during her years living with Joel. Halfway through Take On Me by A-ha, you pull into a parking lot.

You and Ellie get out of the car and you start leading her to a large building. Once you two can see the sign that reads “The Hansen Planetarium”, a giddy grin breaks out on Ellie’s face.

“Oh fuck yeah, we’re going to the planetarium?!” Ellie asks, walking faster.

You laugh and catch up with her, “What can I say? I know my girl.”

Ellie’s face goes a bit pink and she tucks some loose hair from her half-up bun behind her ear, “Yeah, I guess you do.”

You show the person at the planetarium’s front desk your confirmation for the tickets you bought beforehand, and you go inside.

Ellie stops to read nearly every blurb that’s written in front of each display, and you patiently wait for her, wanting her to take her time and fully enjoy the experience.

In between reading and examining the exhibits, Ellie is listing off factoid after factoid.

“Y’know, Neptune’s only made one full orbit around the sun since its discovery.”

“There’s actually some gravity on the International Space Station, which is kinda weird honestly.”

“Dude, do you know that the moon is really shaped like a lemon?”

You raise an eyebrow at that one, “You’re lying.”

Ellie laughs, “I am not! It’s fucking crazy! It looks round in the night sky, but I swear on my life it’s really shaped like a lemon.”

You shrug, still doubtful but accepting that Ellie’s probably not wrong, knowing her long-time obsession with space.

By the time you’ve made it through the all of the exhibits, Ellie is a little bummed.

“I almost wish there was more to look at, I don’t wanna say goodbye yet,” she says and your lips quirk up into a knowing smile.

“Yeah, it sure is too bad that there’s nothing else to do. On an unrelated note, follow me.”

You lead Ellie to the entrance of the Dome Theater inside the planetarium, and Ellie’s eyes light up when she reads the sign.

“Rock the Dome? Dude. Is this a laser show?”

You laugh and nod, glad that you guessed correctly that Ellie, the nerd she is, would be genuinely excited about this.

Ellie pulls you into a tight hug, “What the fuck? You know me too well.”

Your cheeks go hot and you giggle a little, “Well, at least we can agree on that.”

You give the Usher the tickets you pre-paid for, and let Ellie pick your seats in the Dome Theater, the night sky projected onto the curved walls surrounding you.

When she sits, you sit next to her and she immediately grabs your hand.

“Thank you. Seriously. This is… Genuinely one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” Ellie says, squeezing your hand with a soft look in her eyes.

You squeeze her hand back, hoping you don’t look as flustered as you feel. “It’s seriously no big deal, Els. You’re my best friend, you deserve this.”

Ellie looks down at her lap and smiles a little, but doesn’t let go of your hand as the laser show starts, fog machines starting to pump out misty clouds into the room that makes the light from the lasers almost look solid.

Your mind is racing as the music comes on, mesmerizing the crowd with the lasers dancing in coordination, ‘This is platonic, right? This has to be platonic. Ellie’s just being appreciative of what I did for her. Jesus fucking Christ, maybe this isn’t platonic?’

You decided to not think about it too much at that moment, and try to enjoy the spectacle of color and light before your eyes.

———

The show included a lot of classic rock from the 80s, including Queen, the Stones, Bowie, Talking Heads, and The Clash. Ellie was awestruck, singing under her breath to every song that she knew, while you tried not to smile too big at how cute she was being.

By the time you two are back at the dorm, Ellie is completely over the moon.

“This was seriously the best birthday I’ve had yet. A new guitar from Joel, planetarium, and a laser show? This day fuckin’ ruled.”

You giggle and go over to your closet, “Well, it’s not quite over yet.”

Ellie narrows her eyes, “No way. You’ve already done so much.”

You pull a thin, wrapped gift from the top of your small closet, and bring it over to where Ellie’s standing.

“I wanted to do so much,” You say, rubbing the back of your neck.

Ellie takes the gift from you and sits down on her bed, intrigued.

“Can I open it?” She asks.

You laugh, “No, I just brought over your birthday gift so you could check out my wrapping job. Go open it, dumbass.”

Ellie chuckles and tears open the wrapping paper, her face morphing into shock as she sees the Special Edition “Savage Starlight” comic book in her hands.

“Holy fuck,” Ellie says, staring at it a second longer before nearly lunging forward to hug you.

You stumble back a bit, laughing as you wrap your arms around her as well.

“I’m guessing that was a good choice?”

Ellie guffaws, “Are you fucking kidding? It’s perfect. How the fuck did you find this, dude?”

You shrug , smiling to yourself, “I have my ways.”

Ellie pulls back from the hug, her freckled face a little pink as she looks back down at the comic book.

“This is too much. Like, way too much.”

You shrug, “Once again, you deserve it.”

Ellie looks down, smiling to herself, “Still. You’re just… This is so fucking thoughtful.”

You laugh a little, feeling flustered by this whole interaction, “What can I say? I have a lot of thoughts in this head, I gotta make good use of them.”

‘So fucking dumb, oh my god,’ you think to yourself, wincing at your response.

Ellie rolls her eyes at you, but her grin is huge and pure. “I’m gonna use the bathroom super quick, but do you wanna read it with me after?”

You smile wide, sitting on her bed, “Absolutely.”

Ellie races to your shared bathroom, and as she’s gone, you pull out your phone and scroll absentmindedly.

You’re pulled away from your phone when you hear Ellie’s phone buzz on her bedside table, right next to you, the screen lit up.

Before you have time to shame yourself for intruding on her personal business, you glance over at her screen, where a text is shown:

Kylie: I would love that! :) what time were you thinking?

Your stomach fills with dread and complete embarrassment. You should’ve known better than to think that Ellie holding your hand was anything more than platonic, that Ellie would ever see you more than her best friend. You knew that Ellie has never, and will never see you the way you see her, and you still let yourself get butt hurt over something as stupid as her getting a text from someone else.

‘I’m so fucking dumb, this is my own damn fault for getting my hopes up.’

You try to go back to scrolling through your phone, but your churning stomach keeps distracting you from thinking about what’s on your own screen, still thinking about the text you saw on Ellie’s.

When Ellie comes back in the room, she tears open the plastic packaging on the comic book and tosses herself onto her bed, pressed against you.

You move away from her slightly, “You ready?”

Ellie’s chest pangs with slight hurt, seeing you distance yourself from her.

“Uh, yeah! Let’s see what the Traveler’s are up to this time,” She says, trying to cover up how let down she is that you clearly don’t want to cuddle with her as usual.

You cross your arms and legs, leaning against the wall against Ellie’s bed. You’re barely able to see the full page of the comic book, but you don’t really care, it’s not like you’ll be able to think of anything except for that text.

Ellie glances over at you, her face crestfallen as she bites her lip, before pulling it together and getting into her “narrator” voice.

“The year is 2186, light years away from planet Earth…”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

read texts w/ reader and ellie here

i realized i don’t have a taglist for this so lmk if you’d like to be added!

taglist: @elsbabyxx @mikellie

#rose writes #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou2 #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader

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allzelemonz · 7 months

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The Map: Bill Williamson X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 9, Kisses Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/References to sex Warnings: Kisses, fluff, light bickering, spoiling Brown Jack of course, use of Bill’s birth name, established relationship, implied future sex, slight appreciation of Bill’s thighs Summary: Lost in a new area when trying to find a new town, you have a sweet moment with Bill.

Bill’s face scrunches in confusion as he stares down at the map. You’re supposed to be finding the town that’s closest to the new camp, but all Dutch did was hand Bill a map. Now, after taking turns Bill swore were correct, you are on a path in the middle of the woods with no clue where you really are.

“Just let me look at it, Mar.” You sigh, your head resting on your saddle horn to attempt alleviating exhaustion. “We’ve been out here for hours.”

“I’ll find it.” Bill mutters. “I can read a damn map.”

You sigh, straightening your back and rolling your shoulders. Bill is squinting as he peers down, the map clutched tight in his hands. It’s clear that he’s frustrated, maybe even close to ripping the thing to pieces. And while he looks adorable in the afternoon sun peeking through trees with his nose all crinkled, you don’t want to be caught in unfamiliar wilderness at night. Two men don’t stand a chance against an unfamiliar environment, outlaws or not.

You tug at your horse’s reins slightly, making them sidestep enough for you to swipe the already crinkled map from Bill.

“Hey, gimme-“

“Marion, I love you, but shut up.”

Bill crosses his arms, his face red from hearing his birth name. Under him, Brown Jack taps at the ground with about as much impatience as you. He’s probably twice as tired too. You focus on the map, retracing the mark showing camp to where you might be now. In the corner of your eye, Bill gives Brown Jack a treat and pats his neck with a smile.

“You’re spoiling him again.” You joke, watching as the horse takes another treat.

“He deserves it.” Bill says fondly. “He don’t doubt my map readin’.”

You fold the map up and tuck it away. “I’m sure he does, he just can’t talk.”

Bill looks over at you with a smirk. “Maybe he just don’t talk ta you.”

“Oh, Billy, sweetheart, if he could talk we would be going on about you all day.”

Despite the blush on his face, Bill leans towards you a bit. “You’d talk ‘bout be all day? I that special, darlin’?”

“You’re so fucking stupid.” You mutter, tugging Bill closer by his shirt so you can kiss him over the gap between your horses.

Brown Jack helps, stepping closer to your horse so you can pepper Bill’s face with kisses as he turns red up to his hair. Bill leans into your touches, happily smiling when you press gentle kisses to his skin and his beard.

“Ya love me though.” He mutters, his voice a little breathless.

“I’m reading the map next time, okay?” You smile, giving him one last kiss to his lips before letting your horse step back.

“Fine.” He chuckles. “Ya gonna get us ta town now?”

You sigh. “Suppose I’ll have to pay for a hotel room too, since it’s so late and all.”

Bill looks down at his saddle as he blushes again. “Long as Dutch don’t get mad.”

“He sent us out together, he should know better by now.” You smirk, letting a hand reach across to rest on his thigh and squeezing. “Can’t keep my hands off of such a good looking outlaw.”

Bill smiles to himself, glancing up at you and back to his saddle. “Yer sweet, darlin’.”

“Of course I am.” You give him one more squeeze before taking your hand back. “Now, let’s get going. I wanna see those thighs of yours as soon as I can.”

With a blush fixed under his beard and all the way up to his ears, Bill follows you down the path. He’s a little glad he got the two of you lost.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #bill williamson #bill williamson x reader #bill williamson x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #fictober

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edibl3-m0nger · 7 months

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By any means - A Trevor Philips Fanfic

pairings: trevor philips x ftm!reader (mlm)

cw: drugs, eating/food, blood, dysphoria possibly, fluffy!trevor

enjoy! <3 sumthn to weigh out the smut fics ;)

“Fuck..” (Y/N) cursed under his breath. Rummaging frantically, he realized that not only was his carton of cigarettes spent but there was none left in his bag. (Y/N) tossed it aside in frustration, letting his face collapse in his hands.

He knew that Trevor wouldn’t mind getting them for him (knowing how broke he was right now), but he wasn’t even home right now. It was only a matter of patience but (Y/N) already thought they saved their last, ready for that second hit of nicotine.

After raiding the house for butts, (Y/N) found one, lit it and flopped down on Trevor's bed. His trailer, musky and dank strangely felt more home like than anywhere else. Especially needing a safehouse after getting your new “job” at Trevor Philips Industries.

Flopping down on his bed, the young man searched for his phone to shoot his boss a text. Trevor was swift in response, even going as far to call beforehand. “Hey, kid! What’s your poison?” His gruff yet boisterous tone came through immediately.

The nickname felt endearing and surprisingly gentle for him. Trevor's fondness of (Y/N) resulted in his undying protection and loyalty, the closest thing to love Trev knew of. Hence his choice to house and basically take care of him.

“A pack of Reds should do it,” (Y/N) spoke softly, his voice still filled with bashfulness from the pet name. “And what are we having for dinner?” Shuffling into the kitchen, he opened the cabinets and the fridge to find only molded leftovers and empty nooks. “Well I was thinking we could go to the diner, or something fast—-You know what? I’ll just pick you up.” And with a beep, the conversation ended and (Y/N) found his shoes, grabbed his bag and stood outside.

The yellowing headlights of Trev’s beat-up old pickup nearly blinded (Y/N). Holding his hand over his eyes until the truck stopped. “(Y/N), catch!” After opening the door, a red box of peace flew into your hands. “Thanks, Trev. I really appreciate it.” Pawing at the plastic and getting it open, he waited for a stop to light it.

“It’s nothing,” Trevor’s humble tone was coated in affection. A scarred and inked hand reaching over and stealing the cigarette from back again. “Hey, I just lit that!” “Hey, I just lit that!” He mocked, snorting a bit, “You didn’t think it was a scott-free transaction did you?” (Y/N) didn’t protest, just watched him smoke away.

With his sunglasses and his mullet and flaming shirt whipping in the wind. The younger man only took him in, feeling admiration and passion flood his senses.

“Mm! Now those are good cigarettes,” He handed it back, (Y/N) taking his time to take it back. Driving was probably one of his favorite things to do with Trevor, not for any reason in particular but he could tell that Trevor drove a little safer when he was in the car.

Pulling closer to the diner, a car swerved directly in front of the two. “Watch it, fuckwad!”

Trevor shouted at the car ahead, causing the driver to steer away quickly.

The diner was fluorescent but dim, T choosing a booth in the middle and near the window. “Here we go, fine American cuisine.” His tone was indistinguishable between sarcastic and authentic. (Y/N) had a seat before Trevor, starting to look over the menu. A lot of the food was simple american food with a few exceptions like nachos or pizza.

Seeing a few things he liked, (Y/N)’s eyes wandered back up to the man who had brought him here. Somehow still perfectly shaggy mullet and dark glasses still on. He smirked and laughed to himself as he thought about the time that Trev stole that cop car and uniform.

(Y/N) was driving back to Trevor’s trailer, pretty late when sirens and flashing lights started

following him. Cursing he continued to drive until they got closer and finally pulled over. “This is so stupid,” he hadn’t done anything wrong he could think of but still complied.

Slightly annoyed and confused they rolled down their window and immediately met the blinding flashlight. “Yes..?” (Y/N) tried his best not to sound rude, wanting a relatively easy let off. The light finally fell after a minute and Trevor lifted his glasses. The younger male could now make out the small blood stains on the uniform—-poor fuck.

“Scared your ass shitless, didn’t I?!” Trevor chuckled, followed by a clap on the roof of (Y/N)’s car. “Dammit Trev! What the hell is wrong with you?” All of that frustration finally bled through as he let out an even bigger laugh along with his psychotic roommate.

“Had to pull another job with the boys and got this bad boy,” Trev gestured towards the still sirening car. He sighed, “Only thing is… I don’t feel like letting it go quite yet. Wanna spin?” (Y/N) Thought for a moment and soon the two were speeding off and down traffic, Trevor and (Y/N) blasting shots into the air down the road as dispatches rang through in vain.

The memory was close to the younger man’s heart. It was the first time he really felt alive, outside of first meeting Trevor. The two actually met through Lester, who had hired (Y/N) for a job after meeting him in an anti-capitalist chatroom. The job was okay—-mainly consisted of assisting him in organization of jobs and errands, but paid enough to keep (Y/N) “persuaded” not to let on about what he did.

Trevor actually threatened (Y/N)’s life upon first hearing about him, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for him but when actually meeting, they were taken with each other. Instantly, Trevor recognized his quiet grit and saw himself in him. At times in more ways than one.

Deciding the employ and house him was the ground deal but Trevor was basically (Y/N)’s guard dog if you asked anyone. Of course, it was more intimate than that. Trevor was a passionate and loving guy beneath it all and (Y/N) cherished that deeply, on top of all the other obvious reasons he loved the guy.

Another reason Trevor was so different to (Y/N) was because of their acceptance. Being trans was always a roadblock it seemed for most relationships but telling Trev was truly a breeze. While Trevor’s intelligence isn't often the most accredited thing to him, he was logically and emotionally receptive, but it wouldn’t be Trevor if he didn’t crack a few jokes.

Trevor had already got (Y/N)'s favorite for him, indulging in his right away and his counterpart joining. “Did you ever find out, uh,” Trev set his fork down, nearly done already, “What that NUYU cosmetic surgery clinic was on about?” He asked.

“Yeah, they said that… It’ll be another year until they perform top surgery.” (Y/N) began to pick around his food, looking away from Trevor’s hurt puppy expression, “Oh, uh… I’m sorry, kid.. You have what you need cash wise, though, right?” Working for Trevor had gotten you close enough but it was the waiting.

“I do, but because of what I can afford I can’t afford an expensive surgeon to do it sooner.” Defeat was present in (Y/N)’s body language and the positivity they usually seemed to have waning. This upset Trevor, too, usually (Y/N) was one of his favorite pick-me-up’s outside of huffing gas.

“You know money is no issue, kid. By any means. And anything that makes you like this,” he gestured towards the younger man’s depleted state, “I’ve gotta take it personally. Gimme a few days, I’ll see if Mo’s got something.” (Y/N)’s guts became warm, knowing Trevor’s word was solid and the sentiment was beyond anything he recieved.

Pulling a twenty from the pocket of his jean and fur coat and beginning to stand, (Y/N) rushed to do the same, throwing his arms around the musky man who accepted with a grunt and embracing him back. It was a long and good hug, Trevor squeezing and lifting him with a happy roar of laughter coming from both.

Leaving the restaurant, Trevor was texted about a job from Micheal. It seemed like a huge pay off. Agreeing, Trevor took (Y/N) home, peering over as they stopped to see him fast asleep.Trevor took his hands off the wheel for a second to take off his coat and drape it over (Y/N), shifting in his position.

Trevor took one one last glance at him, he rested his arm on the car door as they cruised home.

Once they got back to the trailer, Trevor tried to be as gentle as possible when exiting and carrying (Y/N) into his bed. Trev set him down with a sigh, looking at his peace in his sleep. That’s the only way he wanted to see him; peaceful. He walked out with the intention to do whatever it meant to give (Y/N) that.

— A few days later, after the mission was passed

“Sir,” A disgruntled looking young nurse spoke directly to Trevor in a disinterested tone, “You can absolutely not do any drugs in this office.” “Why not? This is a clinic after all, why shouldn’t I be as high as every other bastard back there?” Trevor huffed, begrudgingly shoving his bag of horse tranquilizer back in his pocket. With him, he brought a balloon, card and bear.

An expensive looking woman stepped out—the surgeon, looking around for a moment. “Mr. Philips?” Trevor sprung up and walked back to see (Y/N). “How is he, doc?” Trev asked following her down the busy and packed hallway, “He’s great. (Y/N)’s operation went as smoothly as we hoped.” She stopped and waited for Trevor to enter. “Recovery information should be sent to you,” Smiling, she stepped away.

Trevor’s expression was soft and happy, smiling gently at (Y/N). “You can work a gown,” handing over the bear and card. “And you can handle stuffed animals without defiling them. Everyday we learn something new.” You both laugh, “Yeah, I guess so,” Trevor parked on the edge of the bed.

(Y/N) looked through the card: It read “Congrats!” in the front and inside was a note from the older man. “And hey, uh, if you end up not being into this,” He motioned between you two, “Just let me down easy, you know?” Trevor sounded hard for him, a lot of focus to do it.

‘Mozaltoff getting your tits cut off! Now you’re as happy as you make me, and you make me happier than any drug ever could. You’re a high I never wanna come down from. Let me take care of you and we’ll be unstoppable together.’

“Oh, Trev,” Peace had seemed to finally descend upon (Y/N), true peace. The man that he loved unconditionally now wanted something more and he just felt better in general. He looked up at the man responsible for some of the most joyful moments in his life and he looked down and away, clearly not used to being this open.

(Y/N) grabs his arm, stroking his skin with thumb. Trevor made soft sobbing sounds before finally turning to his counterpart, his expression emotional and his brown eyes begging. “Oh, you big lug,” trailing up his hands, “Come here.” (Y/N) pulled Trevor into his arms as much as they could with their chest still aching but Trev crawled to his side the rest of the way.

Trevor’s heavily inked body making space besides (Y/N)’s as carefully as he could and looking at the other, holding longing eye contact with one another. (Y/N) reached up to hold his partner’s stubbly, scarred yet gentle and sweet mug and smiled. He inched towards the other and Trevor did the same until their lips met.

Cherishing each other’s lips: Trevor lips were chapped but plush and a bit iron-tasting from blood cracking. Regardless, it was the one thing that would make this truly magical: kissing this man that he’s been crushing on forever. “Fuck..” (Y/N) winced, “What, what?” he asked, “Surgery,” adjusting again and collapsing slowly again, “Oh right..” Trev got comfortable himself and sighing in contentment.

“And…” The younger one started again, “What is it?” Trevor looked up. “Could you go grab me another pack of Reds?”

#trevor philips #trevor gta #x reader #trevor philips x reader #ftm!reader #fluff #mlm yearning

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starlitangels · 1 year

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Neighbors

This is literally just a present for @zozo-01 for putting up with me (love you!) 2.8k words

—

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

“The hell…?” Zo whispered, looking up from the pack group text she’d been trying to sort through. It had been going off like crazy all night and now she was finally catching up on it. “Sam, are we expecting visitors?”

Her mate appeared in the living room from where he’d been in the kitchen, glancing toward the door. The confusion on his face was all the answer Zo needed. “Pair-a auras,” he said. “One’s too strong to be human. The other’s a Freelancer.” He blinked and glanced down at Zo. “I’ll answer it.”

She hopped up and jumped over the back of the couch to follow him to the door.

He grabbed the knob and pulled it open.

“Hi!” The enthusiasm in the voice made Zo recoil. Who had that much energy this early in the morning? She leaned to see past Sam’s shoulder.

The woman standing on the porch was probably in her mid-twenties. She was petitely short with fair skin, freckles—

And stark white hair. It was long and thick, but there wasn’t a strand of color. Not even at the roots, like it had been dyed.

“Mornin’,” Sam greeted. Cautiously.

“I’m Estelle. My partner and I moved into the cottage about a mile away. We’re not, uh, technically neighbors, I guess. But you’re the closest house to us and we wanted to let you know that we’re here.” She held out the plate—covered in cling film—in her hands toward Sam and Zo. Revealing the NASA logo properly on her grey T-shirt. “If you ever need anything, feel free to reach out. My number is on that slip of paper in the saran wrap.” Zo felt a tiny bit of magic brush against her aura as Sam took the plate. “My partner’s a demon and doesn’t really keep a phone on him so it’s just mine.” Estelle gestured to the man standing beside but a step behind her.

Zo hadn’t seen a demon in a while, but she recognized the timelessness in the man’s face. The same sort of timelessness vampires as old as William had, but much more noticeable if one knew what to look for.

Estelle made a face of apology. “We didn’t know that you’re a vampire. Sorry if the cookies are not the, uh, the greatest introduction gift.”

“Don’t worry about it. They’ll taste just as good, vampire or not.” Sam stuck a hand out, careful not to let his fingers touch the sunlight. “I’m Sam,” he greeted.

Estelle shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Sam,” she said.

The demon also shook Sam’s hand. “My name is Avior.”

Sam glanced back at Zo. “Darlin’?”

She stepped up. “I’m Zo. Sam’s mate.”

Avior’s eyebrow twitched upward before settling back even with the other.

“Just Zo?” Estelle asked.

“Well, it’s short for something but people just call me Zo.”

“Nice to meet you, Zo.” Estelle smiled. Her teeth were almost as white as her hair. She reached back and felt around for Avior’s hand before he slid his fingers between hers. “Well, we’ll let you go. We just wanted to introduce ourselves. There’s like a mile of uninterrupted forest between your home and ours but if you need anything, just let us know.”

Sam glanced down at the plate. “Thank you,” he said. “If you need anythin’ from us, we’ll do what we can.”

“We appreciate that,” Avior said. He had a soft-spoken but self-assured manner of speaking. In a way that reminded Zo of David but was nowhere close to how David actually was.

Estelle squeezed Avior’s hand. “Well, we’re gonna get going. Thank you.”

“Hey, thanks for stoppin’ by,” Sam said.

The couple waved and headed down the porch steps as Sam and Zo waved back and shut the door.

Zo glanced down at the cookies. “Those look delicious. I’m eating one,” she said, taking the plate from Sam’s hand and pulling at the cling film on the bottom to free the cookies. The paper with the phone number on it fluttered out from between the layers. Sam’s hand lashed out and snatched it from the air. He set it on the counter in the kitchen and pulled out his phone. Plunking her number in. Zo fished a cookie out from the layers of the cling film and took a bite out of it.

The cookies were still a little warm, a little doughy, and the chocolate chips were still a bit melted.

“These are good,” Zo said. “Have one or else I’m going to eat them all over the next couple days.”

Sam laughed and accepted the cookie she handed him.

—

Estelle sat on the porch of the cottage, watching the rain fall. Rain out here in the woods smelled much fresher than rain in the city. Which made perfect sense—she just never thought she’d be able to live out in the woods.

The front door to the cottage opened. “Room for one more?” Avior asked.

She smiled. “Always.”

He sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She leaned into his side.

“I think our, uh, neighbors seem polite,” Avior said.

Estelle nodded. “They did. Maybe we should have them over for dinner sometime.” She licked her lip and narrowed her eyes in thought. “Maybe when winter’s a little closer so Sam doesn’t have to worry about the sun being up.”

“Maybe.” Avior nodded.

They sat quietly, just watching the rain, for a bit.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Estelle said.

“What thing?”

“The one where you stare at my hair with a sad expression on your face and think I can’t see you.”

At the mention of her hair, his fingers started to twine through it. “I can’t help it, starlight. It’s my fault you lost the pigment in it.”

She snorted. “That’s a lie and you know it,” she said. “The rift collapsing was no one’s fault. Playing the blame game gets us nowhere, just like it got us nowhere back then.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “Avior—”

He went rigid, staring out into the trees. His grip around her shoulders tightened, drawing her closer. She felt his magic burn warmer as the beginnings of a ward started forming around them. A fine spider-web of impenetrable magic that anyone unfamiliar with demon magic wouldn’t even notice.

“What’s wrong?” Estelle whispered.

“Someone’s coming.”

Now that he mentioned it, the rustling in the trees was a lot louder and more deliberate than the usual wildlife.

Estelle tucked herself closer to Avior’s side and prepared her own magic.

Two figures stepped out of the trees.

Avior immediately relaxed.

Zo and Sam.

“Evening,” Avior greeted.

“Nice weather for a walk, isn’t it?” Zo asked.

“If you don’t mind mud in the area,” Avior remarked.

Zo blew a raspberry and waved a hand dismissively. “I’m a shifter. Mud is nothing new.” She shrugged. “We were actually wondering if you two would like to come play some games with us.”

“What sort of games?” Estelle asked.

“We’re a bit more inclined to board games, but Sam’s still got a lot to learn when it comes to Super Smash Brothers if you’re more in a video game mood.”

Estelle laughed. “I think putting me up against someone new to the game wouldn’t be particularly fair, although Avior’s never played it.”

A smile drew up Zo’s face, tugging on a scar over her lips. “You think you’re good at it?”

“Well—I’m definitely not advanced but I’m significantly better than a newcomer. So unless he wants a trial by fire—”

“Trust me, I already had that with this one’s pack brothers,” Sam grumbled, throwing an arm around Zo. “It was kinda scary how good they were at it.”

Zo shrugged. “That’s just how they are.”

Estelle grinned. “Well. They’d probably wipe the floor with me.” She glanced at Avior. “What do you say? Wanna go play some games?”

“Sure. Let me grab your jacket.”

—

Estelle and Zo were on the floor of Sam’s living room sorting through games. Avior and Sam were in the kitchen gathering a handful of snacks.

“So. How long have you and Sam been together?” Estelle asked.

“Officially… Little over a year. How about you and Avior?”

Estelle fidgeted with a bit of hair that was falling in front of her face. “It’s… complicated. Best way to put it is also about a year,” she said. “I don’t want to get in the weeds with it. We bumped into each other—literally—on the sidewalk one day and never got out of each other’s lives, really.” She whipped the hair back so it was out of her face. “Is the vampire thing a recent development or—”

“No. He’s been one for… twelve years or so.”

“Oh okay. I just… I’m sorry. I ask too many questions. I’m dating a demon for heaven’s sake—I know relationships between mortals and immortals happen I just…”

“Hey, I get it. You’re curious. Nothing wrong with that.”

“There is when the questions are invasive,” Estelle mumbled quietly, setting a Monopoly board firmly behind her in the no pile they’d set up. “My brain never knows the difference until after I’ve already asked.”

“How about I balance it out with an invasive question, then?” Zo suggested.

“Sure.”

“What’s with the white hair? It looks natural but you seem a little young to be fully grey.”

Estelle laughed. “Magic mishap,” she said, pulling at a bit of her hair and twisting it around her fingers. “I… I took in a lot more magic than I should have been able to handle and it… essentially killed all the pigment in my hair.”

Zo scrunched her eyebrows. “What, like, you overclocked your Core?”

“No… it’s more like…” Estelle sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it.” She rubbed her chest. “I don’t know.”

“That’s fine. We can leave it at that for now.” With a flick of her fingers, Zo snapped a playing card. It spun across the room and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Estelle held a hand out toward the kitchen and narrowed her eyes. The card came whizzing back in and landed on her hand. She passed it back to Zo, who added it into the deck with its fellows.

“Sam was a Freelancer. Before he turned,” Zo offered. She bowed the deck of cards in her hand and sprayed them upwards.

Estelle gasped and splayed her hands out, screwing her face up. The Psychokinetic wave she released froze all fifty-two cards in the air. She opened her eyes and started plucking the cards out of stasis, stacking them in one hand. “Well. We’re the most common form of empowered human,” she remarked.

Sam and Avior came into the living room to see Zo and Estelle picking cards out of the air and putting them in Estelle’s pile. Neither of them said anything, and both ladies figured their partners heard the whole conversation.

“Anyone wanna play Clue?” Estelle offered.

“Fine with me,” Sam said.

She grabbed the box and started to set up the board on the coffee table. “So, Sam. What do you do?”

“I work for my clan’s property management company.”

Estelle glanced at him over her shoulder. “Solaire clan?”

“That’s the one.”

“Cool. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your clan,” she said.

“What about you?” Sam returned the courtesy.

“I work for the academy. I teach here and there but I’m mostly a researcher.”

“What do you teach?”

Estelle laughed. “Everything. I mean, I’m a fully-certified Freelancer. I just kinda get assigned whatever course needs an extra time slot somewhere. I’ve done everything from Advanced Healing to Intro to Energetic Command.” She wasn’t stupid—she noticed the way Sam and Zo glanced at each other when she mentioned Healing. Don’t ask questions. Don’t be invasive, she thought. “Zo mentioned you used to be a Freelancer.”

“I was,” Sam agreed.

“Were… were you a healer?” Estelle hedged carefully.

“Starlight,” Avior whispered in warning.

“It’s fine, Avior,” Sam said. “Yes. I was.”

“So… this might seem ridiculous but are you Sam Collins?”

“Yep.”

Estelle’s reluctance at her own inability to shut up and stem the flow of questions vanished as she beamed. “My professors still talk about you!” she exclaimed. “Or, I guess, they did when I was still going through the healing courses, like…” She blinked and glanced at the ceiling. “Six years ago.”

Sam blinked. “They do?”

Zo threw her head back and laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Estelle nodded. “My healing professors always had examples from your work to show us. Especially me when I was a Freelancer in a class of specialist Healers. They always made a point of telling me that just because I wasn’t a specialist didn’t mean I couldn’t do great things. ‘Because look at this former student Sam Collins’ work!’”

Sam stared. “Wow,” he said. “I didn’t know that.”

Estelle shuffled some of the game cards. “You ever wanna try teaching?” She dropped the Professor Plum game piece in front of herself, handed Miss Scarlet to Zo, then gave Sam Mr. Green and Avior the Colonel Mustard piece. Then sifted through the deck to remove the player piece cards that weren’t present, and went back to shuffling.

“Never thought much about it. Why?”

“I did my student teaching at the vampire school. A lot of my first students were empowered turns who were… understandably frustrated at their weaker Cores. I did my best to help them. But the fact of the matter is I have no idea what it’s like to be a vampire. I could probably talk to some friends I made in the vampire school’s admin team. Put together some sort of seminar for empowered turns to adjust to their new Cores. If you were interested in teaching.” Estelle shrugged. “I… I just thought you might have a lot of insight you could share.” She smiled and shook her head. “I’ll shut up now. Let’s play Clue.”

Sam glanced at Zo. Who was grinning. “I’ll think about it.”

—

Zo sat in the back of the small classroom. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t supposed to be in it at all and she knew it. But that had never stopped her before and it sure as hell wasn’t going to stop her now.

Sam was at the front of the classroom. There was no PowerPoint or anything written on the board. He was just talking. The handful of vampire students were listening raptly.

Zo wasn’t entirely certain the circumstances that led to Avior essentially being roped into the seminar as Sam’s TA—but Estelle had mentioned that he’d started teaching in the Corsairs’ School of Daemonism and Demonism so that probably had something to do with it.

Sam cast another quick glance at Zo as he spoke. She beamed and gave him a thumbs-up with a dramatic wink. He looked away quickly, his eyes darting to Avior.

With a swift step, Avior disappeared backward through a rift.

He reappeared next to the desk Zo was sitting in. “C’mon,” he beckoned quietly.

“But—” Zo began to protest.

“Don’t make me drag you out of here by your ear.”

Zo snorted. “You could try.”

Avior cocked an eyebrow. “I’m a demon. If you get in a fight with me, I’ll win,” he reminded her. “Come on.”

Zo pushed herself to her feet and followed him out of the classroom. “What did I do?” she complained when the classroom door shut behind them.

“Sam needs to focus when he’s teaching. You are distracting him.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to support my mate?” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on him—she’d discovered he was quite fluent in sarcasm himself—but he rolled his eyes.

“You can support him but you can’t distract him.”

“Oh come on. As if Estelle doesn’t distract you when you’re teaching.”

Avior didn’t flinch, but he did twitch. “This isn’t about me. This is about Sam. Now, can you behave and I let you go back into the classroom, or are you going to keep being a distraction and I keep you out here until class is over?”

“Just because I know how to behave doesn’t mean I want to.”

“Zohniyya,” Avior warned.

Zo sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll behave,” she relented. “For now.”

Avior snorted. “Good. You can go back in for now. But if I have to bring you out again, I’m having Estelle take you home.”

“Fiiine.”

He opened the classroom door and beckoned her to go in. She slipped through and back into her seat.

#fic #Starlit Fic

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dawnfire12 · 2 years

Text

Lust or Love

Summary: Doug Penhall needs some comforting after he feels like no one in the police force believes him about the dirty cop Adabo.

Doug Penhall x reader

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex.

A/N: It’s based off the Besieged episode. I was sad that there isn’t a lot of Doug Penhall fanfic really anyway so I created this one shot. I may be posting a story about him and this character if I have time, highly doubtful, therefore this one shot exists.

“Hey, Doug. Come in.” I swing my apartment door open and wide so Doug can walk into the room. His comforting and musky cologne scent whiffs off him as he passes me to go towards the couch. He’s wearing his leather jacket, a tight black t-shirt that shows off his muscles and blue jeans.

He makes his way into my living room which is about 50 steps away from the front door. My living room has a long dark green couch that leans against a window with closed curtains and has only three gold pillows and two dark blue chairs on either side of the couch. By the chair closest to the window is a blue lamp that can turn off with just one click. A glass coffee table that is gold and has gold butterflies engraved in it sits in front of the couch.

“Do you want something to drink? A beer or glass of wine?” I ask while making my way to the kitchen.

“I’ll take a beer.” He calls from the living room.

I open the fridge door and take out the beer. I pull open the silverware draw with a hard yank as it constantly gets stuck to get out the beer opener. I place them on the kitchen tabletop and take out the cork from the bottle of wine that has been sitting on my counter since I came home from the chapel. I was already planning on having a glass of wine before Doug came over. I pour the wine into my glass, pocket the beer opener in my jacket pocket and carry the beer in my other hand towards Doug.

He stands up when he sees me with my hands full and takes the beer from me, “Thank you.”

I nod and take the beer opener out from my jacket pocket, handing it to him,”No problem,” I take off my jacket and throw it on one of the chairs.

He opens the bottle which lets out a little hiss and takes a sip, “What’s with your look?”

I look down at my skirt and blouse, “What do you mean what’s with my look?”

“You normally don’t dress like that.” He gestures to my outfit.

“Are you saying I don’t dress pretty or I’m not pretty enough to wear this?” I raise my eyebrow.

“No, you’re pretty and it’s a pretty look. It’s not your normal look.”

I smile,”I know. I’m just teasing. Judy and I are working of the murder case of the drug dealer Ozzy. We are posing as his friends to his girlfriend to see if she knows anything. She is such a lovely girl and has an adorable daughter but she’s hooked on heroin. We saw her trying to offer her body in exchange for heroin and it broke Judy’s heart so I took Judy out to lunch to try and help her feel better. Sorry, I’m rattling off while you came here to complain.”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“What? You got no complaints now? Come on Doug. Talk to me!” I take a sip of my wine.

“It’s just uh nobody believes me.” His eyes are downcast like a depressed puppy.

“Okay, elaborate.” I motion with my hand.

He shifts so his knees are facing mine and places his one arm around the back of the couch while his other arm lays in his lap, “I thought this guy, Adabo, was like the best you could ever be. He’s the guy I wanted to be. And now I think he threw a dealer off a roof,” He pauses for a second, “Or not.”

I place my hand on top of his hand that’s on the back of the couch.

“And I got Hanson riding around with him and he probably thinks I’m crazy too. Fuller thinks I’m crazy. IAD thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am crazy.”

“Do you think you’re crazy?”

He shakes his head,”No. I think I’m right.”

“Well, okay.” I tilt my head.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Depends.”

He smiles and doesn’t say anything. The silence fills the room and my cheeks start to feel flush. I never took the time to appreciate how handsome Doug looks up close with his hair all slicked back and the gold chain that peeks out from the neckline of his shirt.

He pushes up and moves his face closer to mine before connecting our lips. Our lips move in sync and I grab ahold of the bottom of his shirt. He licks my bottom lip and I open my mouth so our tongues can meet in a delicious kiss. I tightened my grip on his shirt as the kiss became deeper and almost impossible to breathe. He swallows my every breath while his tongue slides over mine. He leans over me more until I’m laying fully on my back.

I open my legs and prop my knees up so he can fit between my legs better. Our lips part and he kisses the right side of my neck slowly. He kisses a particular spot on my neck above my collarbone where he licks and sucks the skin. I gasp, clawing his shoulders and moving my crotch against his.

He leans up, bringing his hands to the hem of my shirt and looks at me for permission. I nod and he takes my shirt off my body. I sit up, reaching for his shirt to take off when he pushes me down and takes it off himself. He leans back down and kisses my chest, passing my boobs and going down towards my stomach. He kisses the skin above where the skirt lays and pushes himself down the couch to kiss me from my right leg up to my underwear. He kisses me through the underwear and I gasp out a moan. He moves the underwear to the side a little and licks me.

I grip onto the back of the couch and moan,”Doug.”

He looks up at me from underneath my skirt and proceeds to give another long lick. I moan and tilt my head back, then I fumble with the zipper of my skirt and pull it down. I try to pull the skirt down my legs but Doug has a hold on my legs.

He looks up at me and I whimper,”Doug please. Take it off of me.”

He leans up to kiss me while his one hand tugs my skirt off of my body. Once it’s off, he throws it somewhere in the living room and wraps my legs around his waist. He places his hands on my back and sits up, making me be a little bit taller than him. I break our lips apart and kiss down his neck. He stands up and walks towards my room. I kiss the left side of his neck until he drops me onto my bed. He moves to lay on top of me but I put my foot on his hard cock.

“Take it off.” I rub my foot on his cock.

He groans and steps away from me, unzipping his pants and kicking them to the side. I open my legs up and he lays back on top of me. He reconnects our lips and takes off my bra. He cups my one boob and brushes his hand over the nipple. I gasp into his mouth. He lowers his mouth down to my nipple and sucks on it. I moan at the feeling of his warm tongue. He does the same to my other boob before heading down towards my underwear, where he drags it down to my feet with his teeth.

He stands up looking at me,”You are beautiful.”

He takes off his boxers and hovers over me while his fingers make their way up to my entrance. He pushes his first thick finger into my clenching pussy and thrusts it. I moan and grip onto the sheets. He adds another to stretch me out and I grip the sheets tighter. My eyes are closed shut until I feel him remove his fingers.

I open my eyes to see him licking his fingers, “Sweet.”

He crawls on top of me and wraps my legs around his waist before thrusting. I gasp out as he sheathes himself to the hilt. He groans before pulling out and shoving it back in.

“Doug.” I moan out and grip his arms.

He thrusts hard, gripping onto my waist and I throw my head back. I tighten my legs around his waist and I move my arms around his back. He drives himself into me and his gold chain dangles in front of me. I dig my nails into his back and he hisses, going faster. I feel my pussy clenching and the pleasure building up more.

“Don’t stop Doug. Please make me cum.” I gasp out as the pleasure builds faster while he grabs my waist harder. He lifts my hips up a little more and thrusts a few more times making him go deeper and it makes the steady pleasure of my orgasm crash so fast that I see stars in my eyes.

He fucks me through my orgasm and turns over so he’s laying on his back and I’m on top. I breathe in and out quickly trying to regain my breath before placing my hands on his chest and moving my hips. From this angle, I can feel him in my stomach. I scratch my nails into his chest as I move my hips in a fast circular motion. He sits up and holds me close to him.

“Doug, please.” I plead into his mouth and kiss him.

He starts thrusting from below and it makes me cry out. He shifts so his knees are up and it helps him thrust inside me better. He thrusts my waist down onto his dick over and over again. I gasp, moan and cry out when my second orgasm washes over me. As I come down from my high, Doug loses control over his thrusts and comes inside of me. He thrusts lazily before pulling out and laying me beside him.

I catch my breath and kiss him one more time before resting my head on his chest and falling asleep for the night, not ready to deal with the consequences that will come from our actions.

#doug penhall #doug penhall smut #doug penhall x oc #doug penhall x reader #21 jump street tv show

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hrina · 3 years

Text

Be Sweet, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M (minors dni!) WORD COUNT: 6k

hey everyone! here's part one of my new enemies-to-lovers series :) this fic will be five parts in total, but i'm only posting the first part on tumblr. you'll be able to read the rest of it on patreon if you wanna sign up!

as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts! enjoy.

~*~

August 27th, 2021

“Who’s opening tomorrow?”

Ella scrubs a wet rag across the table closest to the door. You cast a furtive glance up at her, flipping absentmindedly through the jumble of papers on the counter in front of you. Nick’s messy scrawl catches your eye, and you pause, reading the haphazard comment written at the bottom of the page.

Customer requested a very specific shade of pink trim. See back for details.

You flip the order, scoffing at the Pantone strip taped to the other side. The square labelled Quartz Pink has been singled out, encircled in bright red. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alice and Olly, I think,” you say, shoving the form to the bottom of the pile.

“That’s good,” Ella grunts, returning the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser back to their spots on the table. “And you’ll swing by sometime during the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you say, drumming your fingers over the papers. “I’m gonna help Olly in the back. You know how much he hates dealing with fondant.”

“How could I forget?” Ella rolls her eyes, smiling to herself. You grimace when she tosses the damp cloth in your direction. It lands on the counter with a loud splat! You nudge it away with your elbow, shaking your head.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Ella says.

“I’m lovely,” you reply. She grins.

“Where’s Alex taking you tonight?” you ask, changing the subject. Her eyes light up instantly, and she clasps her hands together against her chest.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, giggling girlishly.

You groan. “I hate surprises.”

“It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend, then, isn’t it?” she retorts. You snicker, and she continues: “He told me we should stop off at home to change, though, so I’m guessing that wherever it is, there’s a dress code.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” She twists her wrist, peeking at her watch. “He should have been here by now. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

“The hospital is just down the street,” you remind her, organising the mountain of orders into a neat stack. “Give him another five minutes.”

She nods. You spin on your heel and push through the door leading to the backroom of the bakery. The large space is split into two sections: on your right, there’s a wall of ovens, and a cluster of metal racks filled with pale, unprocessed dough. On your left, tables and counters lined with all sorts of decorating necessities—piping bags, spatulas, scrapers, turntables. You make your way toward the small cabinet perched against the nearest wall and pull out the top drawer, sliding the orders inside. Olly should have no trouble locating them tomorrow morning.

When you return to the front of the shop, Ella is locked in a passionate embrace with a gangly, dark-haired man. You recognise him immediately.

“Doctor Dao,” you call out, resting your elbows on the counter. “Did you at least wash your hands before putting them all over my best friend?”

Alex and Ella break apart swiftly, but he keeps one arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey, cookie,” he says, flashing you an apologetic grin. “Didn’t see you there.”

You arch one brow, lips curling into an amused smirk. “I’ll say.”

Only then do you catch sight of the other man lingering by the door, and your smile quickly morphs into an irritated frown. Harry is watching you with twinkling eyes, like he knows the effect his presence has on you. How could he not? You don’t try to hide your disdain, especially when it comes to him.

“Harry,” you say curtly, lifting your chin in stubborn acknowledgement.

He brings two fingers to his temple—a mock-salute. “Sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw. God, he makes your blood boil. Rather than responding, you turn back to Alex, who is now smoothing his palms over Ella’s silky brown hair. “You’re late,” you tell him. “You were supposed to be here when we closed.”

“Sorry, cookie,” Alex says, and he sounds like he means it. “My last surgery of the day had a few…complications.”

You purse your lips as the annoyance melts away. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blowing out a heavy breath. He looks tired. “We figured it out.”

“That’s good.”

Alex directs his attention back to Ella, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Cool,” he says. “You don’t mind if we drop Harry off at his place, right? His car is fucked, apparently.”

Ella’s grey eyes widen. She peers over her boyfriend’s shoulder at Harry. “What happened?”

Harry waves away her concerns, chuckling quietly. He tugs on the collar of his blue scrubs, and you can’t stop your gaze from trailing across the plethora of tattoos inked into his arm. Your nose wrinkles at the sight. He looks ridiculous. What kind of doctor would agree to don such outrageous body art?

“He’s being dramatic,” Harry says, shooting Alex a pointed glare. “My car’s at the shop right now, but I’ll have it back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Oh.” Ella relaxes. “Okay, that’s great. Babe—” She turns to Alex. “—when are our reservations?”

“Eight-thirty,” Alex says. “Plenty of time.”

“Awesome,” she chirps. She scurries around the counter and playfully bumps her hip against yours. “My purse is in the back. Give me one second.”

And then she’s gone.

You stare at Alex, fighting a clever smile. “Tonight’s the night, huh?” you murmur, quiet enough so that there’s no chance of Ella overhearing.

He beams, shouldering his knapsack and dragging his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. His scrubs are a light purple, you note. The shade compliments his dark skin.

“Yeah,” he replies, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip. “She’ll say yes, right?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Of course she will.”

Just then, Ella bursts through the door, her leather purse swinging wildly against her waist. “Alright!” She claps once, striding over to you and planting a wet, sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I’m off.”

“Bye,” you say, wiping her saliva from your face with the back of your hand. “Have fun.”

Alex waves at you as she tugs him out of the bakery. “See you later, cookie.”

You wink. “See you.”

Harry is the last one to leave. He glances at you momentarily, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smug smile. The look makes you bristle. He’s absolutely infuriating.

“Got any leftover almond croissants?” he asks. Silent laughter taints every word.

You point to the exit. “Get out.”

He bows his chin in farewell, approaching the door. “Sweetheart.”

“Asshole,” you reply flatly. Now that your friends are out of earshot, you’re under no obligation to tolerate him. Sometimes, you find yourself actually craving his company, just so you can drop the pretence and really give him a piece of your mind. You’re a mature adult, and you won’t ruin a social gathering because of one presumptuous dickhead, but everyone has their limits. You don’t owe him shit.

Harry chuckles to himself, and you clench your fists at your sides. He shoots you one last maddening smirk before disappearing out the door. You rush forward, latching it swiftly and ensuring that the sign against the glass reads ‘CLOSED’. Once you’ve successfully locked up, you march into the back of the shop, plucking your own purse off one of the metal counters and tugging it over your shoulder. You shut the light and return to the front, scanning the clean tables, the empty display cases, the shades drawn over the windows. Shards of the sunset stream through the cracks in the blinds, casting orange stripes along the floor.

All clear, a voice in your head whispers, and you sigh.

Finally—you can go home.

August 28th, 2021

Quick, frantic knocking rouses you from your sleep. Blearily, you sit up on the mattress, knuckling at your puffy eyes. The hardwood floor is cold against the soles of your feet when you climb out of bed. You shiver.

The insistent clamour continues as you pad down the hallway. You tug at the hem of your worn, baggy t-shirt, concealing your midriff. Ella wastes no time after you open the front door, surging past the threshold and vaulting herself into your arms.

“He proposed!” she squeals as the two of you stagger backward. You freeze, remembering Alex’s plans from the day before. His apprehension, too—the way he wiped his clammy palms against his scrubs and anxiously dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Shock ebbs and flows through your veins for a fraction of a second, but then you’re sweeping Ella into a tight hug, rocking your bodies from side to side.

“Oh my God,” you say. Excitement festers beneath the murky exhaustion clouding your mind. “He did it.”

Ella steps back, brows knitting together in bewilderment. “You knew?” When you nod, she scoffs, aiming a half-hearted swat at your bicep. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” you retort, rolling your eyes at the demand. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

A bright grin stretches across her lips, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers keenly. You spy the ring resting on the fourth digit: a simple platinum band topped with a large, clear diamond. Grey morning light bounces off the gemstone, and it winks at you as if it knows something that you don’t.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, gripping Ella’s wrist to bring her hand closer. You scrutinize the ring carefully, smiling to yourself. “He’s got good taste.”

“Doesn’t he?” she gushes, beaming like an idiot. You beckon her into the kitchen, and she collapses onto one of the tall stools positioned in front of the marble island. A quick glance at the digital clock on the stove reveals that it’s only eight in the morning. You groan, rubbing gentle circles against your temples.

“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in today,” you say, lips curling into a wry smirk.

Ella shoots you a sheepish, apologetic smile, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. “I’m sorry, cookie. I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m just kidding,” you tell her, floating around the room to prepare a pot of coffee. “So…how did he do it?”

She launches into a frenzied retelling of the night before. Alex brought her to the same restaurant they’d visited four years ago on their first date. They ordered their food and made conversation. Things proceeded as usual until the end of the meal, at which point Alex set his napkin down on the table and excused himself to the restroom. Two minutes later, the waiter arrived with the bill. Ella accepted it graciously, scanning the thin paper and pausing at the question scrawled at the very bottom of the slip. When she snapped her head up, searching for her boyfriend in the crowded dining area, she found him kneeling a few feet away from her chair, a small velvet box nestled securely in his steady hands.

“I started crying immediately,” she tells you, groaning at the memory. “I couldn’t keep it together. It was so embarrassing.”

You toss your head back and laugh. Despite the crimson blush staining her cheeks, she joins in. The coffeemaker beeps, signalling that the pot is ready. You fetch two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with dark liquid. Ella accepts her drink eagerly, blowing cool air across its surface. You grimace as she takes a tentative sip—you’ve never understood her penchant for unsweetened black coffee. Sugar and cream are a must.

“I’m so happy for you, El,” you tell her, stirring a small spoon around your mug. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Her eyes grow damp. You snicker quietly, reaching across the island and swiping your thumb beneath her bottom lashes. She catches your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, clearing her throat.

“Will you—?” She releases a shuddering breath. “Will you be my maid of honour?”

You stiffen at her request. Her gaze rakes over your face, like she’s searching for any clue as to how you might respond. At last, your shoulders sag in relief, and an ecstatic smile splits across your cheeks.

“Of course,” you say, voice thick. Tears gather in your own eyes, but you blink them back furiously. “I would love nothing more.”

She sets her coffee down and skirts around the counter, yanking you into another bone-crushing hug. You grin as she presses a handful of sloppy kisses to the side of your head. Her elbow knocks against your abandoned mug, and a few drops of coffee spill down the side of the cup. You laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling back and sweeping your hands over her silky hair.

“It’s probably way too soon, but have you guys started discussing anything?” you ask, arching one eyebrow.

Ella flushes pink, averting her gaze. “Um…when we got home, there wasn’t really much of a discussion going on.”

You cackle, poking at her ribs. “Oh, he gave it to you good, didn’t he? It’s a miracle that you’re not limping right now.”

“Be quiet,” she yelps, stamping her eyes shut.

You lift your hands and shoot her a teasing smirk. “I’m not judging, okay? If anything, I’m living vicariously through your various sexual conquests. It’s been months since I last got any action.”

“Maybe that should change,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest. “You and Harry could probably fuck out your frustrations. His dick is huge, apparently.”

You balk. “Ella!”

She shrugs, grey eyes widening comically. “What? Alex told me!”

You snort, but say nothing. She watches you cautiously, examining your features for any signs of acquiescence. Any indication that you might actually be considering her lewd suggestion. You almost gag.

“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” Ella asks, flicking an invisible speck of lint off her shoulder. “You’re not still hung up on that fiasco with the almond croissant, are you?”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you say, and she sighs.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But can you at least try to be civil while we plan the wedding? For my sake.”

After mulling over her words, you slouch in defeat. “Fine. But only for you,” you say, throwing a stern finger in her face.

She beams. “Thank you.” Something dirty flashes behind her pale eyes. “And if you do end up sleeping with him, I want all the details.”

You shove her gently and scoff. She laughs.

“Honestly,” you start, shaking your head, “it doesn’t matter how huge his dick is. I’d rather walk across hot coals than let somebody like him climb into my bed.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?” Ella snickers. You glare at her, but she just steps back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m expecting you to find someone in time for the big day. Don’t let your plus-one go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. “Noted.”

September 2nd, 2021

“Olly!” you call, sticking your head into the backroom. “Ella and I are going on our lunch break, but Leyla will be here in, like, twenty minutes. You going to be okay by yourself until then?”

Olly doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder, too busy piping little flowers along the sides of the rectangular cake laid out in front of him. He lifts one hand, waving away your concerns before running his palm over his short blue hair. He buzzed and dyed it just last week after claiming that he couldn’t stand how the long brown curls stuck to the nape of his neck. It took a few days to get used to the change, but now that the initial shock has faded, you have to admit that he looks great.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Olly says, putting the finishing touches on the cake. He sets his piping bag down and turns toward you, wiping his palms against his red apron. His left ear bears a swirl of shiny silver piercings. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Thanks,” you say, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and then you’re spinning on your heel and letting the door swing shut behind you.

You find Ella waiting outside the bakery. She urges you along, and you squawk at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” you ask, falling into step with her as you both amble down the sidewalk. “We have forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t want Alex’s sandwich to get cold,” she explains, holding up the small paper bag clutched in her right hand. You snort.

The two of you make it to Ridgefield Hospital in record time, mostly because Ella grips your arm and gives it a forceful tug whenever you start lagging behind. You walk through the automatic doors, ignoring the row of ambulances parked outside. The secretaries sitting at the front desk shoot you a few distracted smiles—they’ve all grown accustomed to your frequent visits by now.

Ella babbles endlessly as you enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor and waiting as the metal doors slide shut.

“I want to ask Alice and Leyla to be part of the bridal party, but I’m scared the guys will feel bad if Alex doesn’t choose them as his groomsmen. Like, I think they’d understand, considering I work with the girls and we’re all pretty close, but I don’t know.” She nudges you with her elbow. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever the fuck you want,” you tell her, shrugging. “It’s your wedding. And I don’t think Olly, Marcus, or Nick will mind if they’re not part of the bridal party. Olly doesn’t care about that stuff, and Marcus and Nick already have their hands full with their jobs at the bakery. Plus, they know Alex has his own friends—not just the ones he’s met through you.”

Ella nibbles on her bottom lip, her head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lay a placid hand on her shoulder. “You’re already overthinking this. You’ve only been engaged for a week. Enjoy it.”

She shoots you a grateful smile just as the elevator dings and the doors glide open, and the two of you step out onto the hospital’s paediatric floor. It’s a stark contrast to the other sections of the building. Instead of barren white walls, these ones are painted with all sorts of pretty, colourful decorations—flowers, rainbows, sunsets, animals. A massive sign in front of you denotes the different divisions on the floor and where to find them: the ICU, the operating rooms, the palliative unit, the psychiatry wing, and the oncology department. You and Ella turn right, making the familiar trek to Alex’s office.

“He should be on his lunch break, too,” she says. “Unless they paged him for another emergency surgery.”

You hum in response.

Sure enough, you find Alex at his desk, twirling a blue pen between his fingers as he pores over the stack of papers in front of him. Ella knocks gently against the open door, and his face lights up when he spies her standing in the threshold. He moves quickly, crossing the room in five long strides, and plants a searing kiss onto her lips. You look away, rocking awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs after he and Ella break apart. That’s when he notices you behind her. “Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” you reply. You toss your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to—you know, the usual.”

He nods.

The last thing you see before you turn around is Ella holding up the brown paper bag, and Alex’s face splitting into a bright, easy smile.

You meander through the halls, trailing your fingers over the rich artwork covering the walls. The end of the corridor cleaves in two; you turn left and enter a large atrium. The ceiling is high and peppered with skylights. A small cafeteria sits off to the side, clusters of families chatting and laughing together as they eat. Children sprint around the space, their arms outstretched. Some of them are dressed in normal clothes—others don pale hospital gowns, their skinny legs bared for all to see. You wrench your attention away from them, fixing it instead on the far wall.

Slowly, you cross the room, surveying the vibrant handprints stamped against the plaster. There has to be hundreds of them, you think. They vary in size—some are so tiny you could cry. Colour becomes scarcer the higher you go—the youngest children are too short to reach those levels, obviously—but still. The sight takes your breath away. You visit this mural every time you find yourself at the hospital, and every time, you unearth a new detail that you hadn’t noticed before.

You walk along the length of the wall, dragging your fingertips across the dry, smooth paint. Purples and pinks and oranges and blues. Reds, greens, yellows, browns. Each handprint is a person—a pair of little feet that scuffled over this very floor, a blank story that had yet to unfold. Briefly, you wonder how many survived whatever illnesses plagued them, and how many succumbed to their conditions. The thought makes your throat grow tight with emotion, so you quickly shove it aside.

Ten minutes pass before you’re leaving the mural behind and heading back the way you came. You’ve just rounded the corner when a strong, solid body barrels into you. You grunt at the impact, smacking one palm against the wall to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, lifting your head to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I wasn’t paying—oh.”

Harry smirks, his green eyes glittering with mirth once he recognises you. You purse your lips, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Harry,” you say, nodding stiffly.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart.”

His brown hair is tousled, and his biceps strain against the white button-up adorning his torso. Black slacks cover his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of pristine leather shoes, ones that look like they might’ve cost a month’s worth of rent. Your teeth grate together noisily. The sound echoes in your ears.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, as though the two of you are old friends. You want to scoff—you’d rather stick your hand in an oven than make idle conversation with him.

“Visiting Alex,” you say tightly, stepping back. “Ella brought him lunch.”

At that, Harry straightens. “Ella’s here?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I’d run into her,” he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You throw him a scowl. “Asshole.”

Harry cocks one eyebrow, tilting his chin haughtily. “Forgive me if I prefer her company to yours. At least she doesn’t treat me like I’m some insufferable bastard.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable bastard, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” you shoot back, planting your hands on your hips. You tense as Harry’s gaze rakes down your body—head to toe, like he’s sizing up an opponent. His nose wrinkles in disdain, and you fight the urge to deliver a sharp, backhanded slap across that pretty, perfect face.

Harry opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for whatever retort he has prepared. What comes out is nothing overtly nasty, but it is enough to make you want to shrink away and curl into yourself until you wink out of existence.

“You smell like yeast,” he says, and tosses in a derisive sniff just for the added effect.

You recoil as the words slam into you, blinking in shock.

Asshole. Rude, arrogant, condescending asshole.

“I own a bakery,” you grit out. Harry shrugs, but says nothing else. Your lips flap wordlessly as he pushes past you, his shoulder bumping against yours. You watch him go, massaging the tender spot on your arm with shaky fingers. Your eyes fall to his ass for only a moment before skittering away, and a hollow laugh catches in your throat.

What a fucking prick.

September 17th, 2021

“Attention, everyone!” Ella stands at the head of the table, clinking her fork delicately against her glass. “I wanted to make a little toast.”

The conversation around you tapers off into silence. You sit back in your chair, focussing on your best friend. She looks splendid in her pretty blue dress, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She peers around the room, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. When her gaze locks with yours, you grant her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She beams, her next words imbued with renewed enthusiasm. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement with us.” She holds out her hand, and Alex presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We’re so grateful to be sharing this milestone with such a wonderful group of people.”

You inspect the other guests gathered around the table. To your right sit Alice and Leyla, the first employees you hired when you were trying to get your business up off the ground. It’s odd seeing them like this—poised and elegant, looking nothing at all like they do during the long, arduous shifts at the bakery. Alice’s blond hair has been fashioned into an intricate braid, and Leyla’s brown eyes are lined with dark kohl and smoky eyeshadow. They clean up nice, you must admit.

Next to Leyla: Ella’s older sister, Hillary. They have the same piercing grey eyes, though Hillary’s hair is a shade lighter. You didn’t miss the sour expression that trundled across her face when you waltzed into Alex and Ella’s condo. She’s jealous, you think. Jealous that Ella chose you as her maid of honour instead of her. You’ve been ignoring her resentful glares for the better half of the night, letting her bitterness pass over you like a cloud. Whatever her problem is, it’s clear that the issue lies between her and her sister. You’re not getting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t help that she’s been fawning over Harry all evening. Upon witnessing her coquettish behaviour, you glanced at Ella, brows raised, but your best friend just rolled her eyes and yielded a helpless shrug of her shoulders. At least the attraction didn’t appear to be one-sided—that would have been humiliating, you think—because Harry gave as good as he got, chuckling sincerely and flirting right back. You had to suppress the urge to retch, and sent out a quiet prayer of gratitude when Ella and Alex sat them as far away from each other as possible at the beginning of the meal.

On the opposite side of the table: Alex’s groomsmen—Milo, Sasha, and Connor. You’ve been in their company a few times, mainly on birthdays and other special occasions. According to Alex, they all met when Milo accidentally vomited during their very first anatomy lesson at medical school. Milo insists that the putrid smell of the cadavers was simply too awful to bear, but everyone else claims that he just couldn’t stand the idea of being so close to a dead body. No matter the truth, the story always makes you giggle. The four of them have been good friends ever since.

The five of them, you remind yourself as your gaze settles on Harry, who is lounging in the chair directly across from you.

Harry—Alex’s best friend. Harry—Alex’s best man.

You wanted to rip your hair from your scalp when Ella broke the news. Several images flashed through your head all at once. You and Harry inching rigidly down the aisle, arms linked. You and Harry donning the same colours, your gown complimenting the spry flower pinned to the lapel of his suit. You and Harry flanking Ella and Alex while they recite their vows, glaring daggers at each other behind your friends’ backs. Even now, the mere thought of it has you biting down on an exasperated groan.

You don’t realise that you’ve zoned out until the faint quirk of Harry’s mouth catches your eye. You blink once to yank yourself from your daze, and clench your jaw when you find him staring at you with an amused look on his face. He places his elbows against the arms of the chair and clasps his hands together. Unmistakable smugness emanates from him, as if he somehow managed to crawl inside your mind and saw exactly what you were envisioning. Your nostrils flare, and you fix your attention back on Ella, who has reached the end of her speech.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass. The champagne inside sloshes and fizzles temptingly. Would she allow you to chug the entire bottle, if you asked?

Everyone around the table mirrors her movements, raising their own drinks and touching them together lightly. Quiet, delicate clanking fills the room, and the friendly chatter resumes. You nudge Ella with your elbow, shooting her a proud smile. “That was great, El.”

She beams. “Thanks, cookie.” She then picks up her fork and motions to the plate in front of her, piled high with seasoned chicken and steaming, roasted vegetables. “Let’s eat.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alex asks Sasha, gesturing to the very inebriated Connor wobbling at his side.

Sasha wraps one arm around their friend, letting Connor rest his full weight against him. He bares two rows of perfect ivory teeth, flashing a wicked grin. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to pay him back for the shit he pulled at the barbecue last month. There’s a Sharpie in my car.”

“You’re going to draw a dick on his face, aren’t you?” Alex muses.

“Obviously.”

With that, Alex bids them both farewell, shutting the door and heaving a dramatic sigh. Ella approaches him after a moment, hooking her chin over his shoulder and murmuring something indiscernible into his ear. He chuckles softly.

“Didn’t peg you as the voyeur type, sweetheart,” a low voice says from behind you.

You jump, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Harry. He’s got a green washcloth slung over his left shoulder—the shade brings out his eyes, a traitorous voice in your head whispers—and his arms are folded neatly across his chest. Your gaze falls to the collar of his black button-up, where he’s undone the first two discs, leaving his sternum exposed. Tendrils of ink peek out from beneath the dark material.

You frown and take a step back, putting distance between your bodies. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” His lips twitch, and he rolls up his sleeves. “Now, if you’re done ogling them like a lovestruck puppy, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

You grit your teeth, but follow him into the other room. Harry grabs the rag hanging over his shoulder and holds it out for you. You snatch it from his fingers without a word, and the two of you take up residence in front of the sink. Harry plunges his hands into the soapy water, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before passing them to you. You stand as far away from him as possible while you dry each plate, your movements stiff and choppy. This is not how you wanted to finish off the night, but Alex and Ella spent the entire day preparing the food, and it was delicious. The least you can do is spare them the hassle of tidying up.

The tense silence eats at you, until you feel like you might explode. Unable to bear it any longer, you hastily blurt, “Saw you getting pretty cozy with Hillary before dinner.”

Immediately, you want to kick yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Harry snorts, shrugging coolly. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but it’s nothing serious.” He shoots you a mischievous grin. “You jealous?”

“Of Hillary?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Please. The woman’s standards are practically underground. Why else would she be interested in someone like you?”

Harry scowls, and hot satisfaction surges through your veins. Yes, the taunt was mean, but no, you don’t care. “You’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” he says.

You flash him a petty, insincere smile. “Only to you.”

He squeezes the yellow sponge nestled in his right hand, scrubbing it forcefully across a dirty plate. “Maybe you should find someone to hook up with. It might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“I have better things to do,” you sneer, narrowing your eyes.

“Better than sex?” He chokes on a derisive laugh.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like…things!” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists. “I run my own business, for God’s sake. And I’m going to make Ella’s wedding cake.” You announce the last part proudly, hauling your chin into the air.

Harry, however, looks unimpressed. He shakes his head, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Uh-oh.”

You pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again, but you detect a hint of malice behind the action. “It’s just…I’ve seen the way you decorate cakes. Ella might be better off going elsewhere—you know, to an actual professional.”

Son of a—

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you say, motioning to the mismatched tattoos littered across his arm. “What would you know about professionalism? It looks like you let a preschooler doodle all over you.”

Harry bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Deflection. I’m not surprised.”

You bristle at his words. “Asshole.”

“You’ll need to get a bit more creative with the insults, sweetheart. I’m growing bored.”

“Is that so?” you say. “I think ‘asshole’ suits you just fine. Maybe you should have become a proctologist instead of a paediatrician.”

“At least I pursued something I was good at. I’m not sure if you can say the same.”

“You fucking—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ella asks, floating into the kitchen. You spin around to conceal your anger, placing your hands against the counter and inhaling deeply. You roll your shoulders back and slap an artificial smile onto your face before turning once more.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, and fake a yawn, covering your mouth with your palm. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

Ella’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. Her red lipstick has faded, leaving only a stain of scarlet in its wake. On cue, Alex walks into the kitchen behind her, setting a steady hand on her hip and cocking his head to the side. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

You nearly snort. Fucking soulmates.

“All good,” you tell him, nodding brusquely. “I’m just going to finish up with the dishes and head home.”

“Okay.” Alex presses a soft kiss to Ella’s temple, murmuring something about needing to get out of his stuffy clothes. You whirl, drying the last of the plates with frantic, shaky fingers. In your peripheral vision, you spy Harry watching you, but the stupid bastard must possess some scrap of self-preservation, because he keeps his mouth shut. You say nothing else as you whack the rag down onto the counter and stride out of the room.

You don’t miss Alex and Ella’s hushed whispers at the other end of the hall, but a little voice in your head tells you not to interrupt them. You halt at the front door, snatching your purse off one of the metal hooks mounted on the wall. You’re in the middle of putting on your shoes when you hear it:

“I was hoping we could arrange a truce, you know.”

You twist around, palm flying to your chest. Harry is standing a few feet away, his hands still wet with the water from the sink. He clasps them together and ducks his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was ashamed.

Something vile bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You gnaw on the flesh of your cheek, trying to reel your emotions back in. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another outburst.

“Keep your fucking truce,” you spit, and wrench open the door. You shoot him one last withering look before stepping out of the condo and slamming it shut.

#be sweet #harry writing #lmao you can tell i've given up on posting my writing on tumblr cus i don't even tag it with the typical fic tags anymore 😭

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gobblewanker · 3 years

Text

Well. Guess who had some late night Emotions™ and wrote another drabble on that "Sherman adopts Stan and Ford when they're eight because Filbrick is the worst" story?

The room at Sherman's apartment was smaller than the one at their parents place had been. It was cramped, the singular window was poorly insulated, and the wallpaper was flaking. Almost everything in it was second hand - deeply cherished childhood toys picked up from garage sales piled in a corner, a banged up desk Sherman's college was going to throw out anyways nestled under the drafty window, an old space heater Ford had to repair nearly every winter puttering away snugly next to the drawer with it's missing handle. Everything was old and worn, but in a good, reassuring, way. Like a pair of well used shoes, slowly adjusted to it's wearer's feet and fitting far more comfortably than a new pair ever could. As far as Ford was concerned, it was infinitely more a home than the pawnshop had ever been.

Maybe that made sense though. He'd soon spent half his life there. The latter part. The better one. The one spent living in a shoddy apartment which's walls nonetheless practically oozed with love and family. The one without dad looming large like some invisible but always precent danger. The one with memories permeated by safety and stability.

Ford knew much of that stability was a carefully crafted façade, propped up on his big brother's shoulders. He'd caught on to it long before Stan, but in retrospect it was obvious. The way Sherman would skip meals so they never had to, the way he always seemed to be working overtime, all of it. It wasn't a stable situation at all. But he'd made it feel that was. Always made it seem like there was nothing to worry about. Ford and Stan had tried to help out wherever they could, doing chores when there were any and otherwise just being good and staying out of the way. It had taken a long time for the permanence of the situation to sink in. For the realization to hit that they wouldn't get sent back. That no matter what they did, Shermie wouldn't get fed up with them and cart them back to Pa.

But what if it wouldn't be up to him?

"Hey, Stan?" Ford whispered into the quiet of the dark. From the bunk under him, he heard a low grunt of affirmation.

"Yeah?" There was no trace of drowsiness in Stan's voice.

"I can't sleep."

"Tell me about it."

Ford dropped his arm over the side of the bed, letting it dangle. It didn't take more than a few seconds for Stan's hand to find it. Five fingers intertwining with six. An old gesture of reassurance. Quiet and secret, Pa wasn't big on sentimentality. That stuff was for women and crybabies. The secrecy wasn't a necessity anymore, Sherman didn't mind, but the gesture had carried them through long enough to become ingrained.

"I'm scared." Ford said. The confession came with ease. Just one of the millions that had been dispersed into the darkened bedroom over the years. Half a childhood spent.

"Me too." Stan's voice answered, drifting up from below. "Ya thinking about the war?"

Ford nodded into his pillow, before remembering Stan couldn't see him. "Yeah."

Silence descended on the room like a blanket again. Soft, but very palpable and almost suffocating.

It had been a perfectly normal day at first. When they woke up that morning, everything had been just fine. Perfectly average. You never really appreciate 'avrage' until it's threatened.

There'd been recruiters at their school, talking to the older students about war and enlistment and other things Ford wanted nothing to do with. It was something he was going to ignore. It didn't concern him. He and Stan were both too young. He'd felt a strange sense of almost invulnerability at that. So he'd just kept walking. He'd gotten caught up in an interesting discussion with his physics teacher at the end of the lesson, and was far more concerned with the fact that he was running late to meet up with Stan for lunch. But then it'd hit him with the same speed and ferocity as an oncoming freight train that while he and Stan might be in the clear, that same certainty was in no way extended to Sherman.

The closest thing to a parent they had, and an uncaring universe had just added his name to some nebulous lottery where being picked would spell tragedy.

Sherman was security, and now he might be ripped away.

Suffice to say, they hadn't gone to get food after that. Instead, the entire lunch period had been spent locked up in a bathroom stall, Stan trying his best to talk Ford down from the ensuing panic attack without becoming overwrought himself.

"What do we do, Stan?" Ford's voice was low and miserable. He'd managed to pull himself together for the entire evening, not wanting to worry Sherman. But problems always seemed much bigger in the dark, and this one was insurmountable enough in daylight.

"I donno." Stan said. "Do ya wanna go talk with 'im?"

"I don't know."

Ford went quiet again, just listening to the rumbling heater and the odd car passing by outside. If there was one thing he missed about their old room, it was the sound of the ocean. A busy road was no substitute for calming waves.

Did he want to go talk to Sherman? Yes. The sense of comfort he usually got - both of them usually got - from doing that was so deep rooted it was only surpassed by the comfort they could find in eachother. But this was about Sherman, so venting their fears with him might help. He never got upset at them for doing so, not for being 'sissies' or for keeping him up when he had work in the morning or for bothering him. The fact that they could go wake him up if they needed it was another one of those truths that had taken a long time to sink in. But after a bad bout of the flu had almost escalated to hospitalisation for both of them because they wouldn't tell Sherman they weren't feeling well they'd sat down and had a very long chat about the importance of communication. It still felt like night and day compared to Pa.

"I guess I want to go talk to him. But it feels stupid."

"You know he wouldn't see it like that." Stan's hand squeezed Ford's comfortingly.

"I know. But..."

But what? Ford wasn't sure how to articulate the issue. Not even to himself really. He wanted to go and ask for reassurance, he wanted that familiar comfort. The one that made him think of sitting up late at night being hugged and reassured through childhood stomach aches and emotional breakdowns over bullies. That strange paradoxical feeling of a miserable situation made almost... Cozy? None of those situations were ever good. The things that facilitated them hurt. But that hurt facilitated closeness and safety, and those emotions were always the ones that remained. They were good memories tinged with something bad. Or maybe bad memories overwhelmed by something good?

So yes. He wanted that. He wanted to make a good memory out of this hurt.

But that felt selfish.

The situation was horrible. Horrible to the point where trying to make something good, however miniscule, come out of it almost felt like it'd be disrespectful. Making light of something that should stay dark. That should hurt, and only hurt.

"Ford? Ya still awake?"

Ford breathed shakily through his nose. Trying to stop his voice from wavering the way he just knew it would.

"I want to go talk to him. But it feels wrong."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to- I don't-" Ford paused, focusing on breathing again. Intellectually, he knew he didn't have the keep the emotions tapped down. Another lesson Sherman had worked hard to drill into them. It was okay to cry and dad was an asshole for demanding they don't. But he still didn't want to. It still felt somehow weak. Shameful. "I want to go, I want to make it feel better, but I also don't want to make it feel better because it hurts and it should. It should hurt. It's awful."

Stan remained quiet for another few seconds. Usually he had no qualms about blurting out whatever came to his mind, but maybe this situation required more thought.

"Let me get this straight... The reason you don't want to go and talk to Shermie is because ya want to be upset?"

Ford didn't know if that was it or not. He couldn't make heads or tails of his own emotions. They felt huge and overwhelming, too big to fit inside him but also too big to unravel and understand. Like a nest of gigantic snakes all tangled up in eachother, chaotic and confused, hissing and biting itself.

"It's bad. It's so bad that trying to make it good feels wrong." He didn't know if that was it either.

Stan let go of his hand, and Ford instantly mourned the loss of contact. Comfort? Wasn't comfort what he didn't want? He was so confused, he just wanted everything to make sense. He lifted the corner of his t-shirt to wipe at his stinging eyes as Stan's face appeared over the side of the bed.

"Ford... Look, it's okay to let things hurt, but it's also okay to make them hurt less." Stan looked at him intensely. Ford felt himself becoming even more choked up at the scrutiny. "No, seriously. It's like... Like breaking a leg, right? Remember that time in fourth grade when you did that?"

Ford nodded, slightly unsure what this had to do with anything.

"It hurt, and it's okay that it hurt. It made sense that it hurt, and you don't pretend like it doesn't. But just because it makes sense that it hurts doesn't mean it was bad that you got painkillers and a cast. Without that junk it wouldn't have healed right."

That... He supposed that might be a valid analogy. Maybe Stan had a point.

"So... You think we should go?"

"Are you going to feel any better if we don't?"

Ford considered for a moment, still warring with the conflicting emotions twisting his stomach all up in knots. But he thought maybe it was slightly less. Shaking his head, he excavated himself from the nest of blankets and clambered down the ladder. Moving through the darkened apartment and arriving to knock at their brother's door as they'd done so many times before.

In the end, it did help. Sitting huddled together on the bed in the dark until the sun began to rise and the fear crept away with the shadows. Until it felt safe enough to fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that everyone would still be there come morning. The situation was large and looming and firmly out of their control. That much didn't change. They couldn't decide how things would end, but they could decide how they would cope. And they would cope.

Together.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #sherman pines #fanfic #not art #tw vietnam war #this is pretty much me trying to make sense of my own emotions by writing #so sorry if it's a bit stream-of-conciousness-ish #shermie adoption au

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

Battle of knowledge

Pairing: Spencer Reid x male!reader

Summary: When a battle of knowledge abruptly occurs as the two known doctors meet at a case, everyone is partially amused by their hate towards the other, as they both differ their problems in quite a unusual way afterwards.

Warnings: Mentions of case, usual cm stuff…, slight sex allusions (rated T just in case the mentions happen to be something that’d be rated like that)

Word count: 1.7 k

A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you guys are well!! I took this request from @imagining-in-the-margins as she didn’t want it, so here I am :) that fic is kind of dedicated to @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff , I thought a lot about you as I wrote this fic :)! Hope everyone enjoys. (yeah the dialogue is ehhh in the first half to me, sorry for that)

When Spencer had gone all the way from Virginia to Arizona for a case that had yet to upset the rest of his team, he didn't actually expect another person to upset him as much as the authors of the crime themselves.

The other person was known as the genius of the team, another "version" of him, except that he was in Arizona, with a slightly different rank.

He didn't think badly of him at first, he appreciated the fact of having another person similar to him, which meant that he didn't have to explain the terms he'd use to someone else, he could talk without complications.

He’d usually have to pause in his lecture to explain some stuff, but he didn’t feel like he’d need to do it with him.

"Arizona's genius, y/n y/l/n. It's nice to meet you all. I heard there's another genius here. As much as I'd like to have a nice chat, killers are on the loose, so, eventually, at the end of the case."

The way he had talked was completely fascinating to him, even if he wanted to, he couldn't draw his eyes off him as he talked.

The first words had completely convinced them, and he really felt like he could have a correct interaction with him.

It wasn't everyday that he'd had the occasion to meet another mind similar to his.

This happened to be quite relieving considering the complicity of the case, and it would be much faster for everything to be answered as they'll be two.

"No, he's not that type of guy! Look at what he did, especially at the third victim!" He yelled.

"We have all reasons to think he could be like that, I didn't say it definitely is, but it could be." Spencer argued, pissed off by his words.

"The M.O you just described doesn't really fit, something is missing, and none of what you said makes it right."

"It's the closest thing we have, it's that or we completely start from scratch, as if it's "wrong" to you."

"I don't think it's only to me, and it's better to try to start again than continue with what we have and possibly launch into a wall because that wasn't right. Okay, that's going to take time, but might as well get it right."

"When I expected for the case to go smoothly, I didn't come all the way for this, since when are you so annoying?"

"Oh, now I'm annoying? I'm just doing my job, and you're the one acting offended. So," He paused, as he gathered papers before walking away. "If you excuse me, I have to catch the ones doing this, instead of wasting time. Come back to me when you're in a better mood to work correctly." Y/N said, as another coworker of his approached Spencer not long after he had left.

"Um...I doubt that'll make the situation better, but he acts like that, sometimes. It may seem that he's not going to work, but don't worry, it's mainly so he can...get himself back in the right head space." He explained. "Don't try...get pissed off at each other too often, none of our unit chiefs will be happy with that."

"He could have been less...like that."

"It's just y/l/n being himself, 'can't do much about it. Anyway, let's get back to work, and try to get better you two, at least till we wrap the case."

"Trouble's around." Derek chirped to JJ.

"This case is going to be...fun. Let's hope we at least get to have a distraction."

"Oh, don't worry JJ, we'll have one. They're not done fighting. Definitely not."

"Do you think they're gonna make up and become friends, or yell at each other until the end?" Emily asked.

"A mix of the two. They'll kinda hate each other, but not enough to resist having a conversation between geniuses." Garcia answered.

"True. It's not every day that the both of them get to talk with someone that understands their stuff." Derek pointed out.

"Let's hope that we'll get to see some animation in between work."

"Are you here to yell again or try to have a calm conversation?" Y/N asked, as soon as Spencer entered.

"I don't get why you're directly attacking before I get to say anything." Spencer protested.

"Just in case."

"Okay, do you have something against me or what? Because I can't work if you keep being angry all of the time."

"I'm not angry." He answered.

"Then I'm a clown if I can't even read your face. It's written on your forehead that you are, you're literally an open book." Spencer closed the door, having a slight feeling that the conversation would possibly get louder.

"I thought you weren't supposed to profile the people you work with, no? I'm not your coworker, but we're working on this case together, so don't profile me unless I ask, which will never happen."

"I don't get you."

"What is there even to understand? You're the one I don't get."

"It's you that I can't figure out. I just can't stand you right now."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid you'll have to calm your nerves till we finish that case. Because I'm not wasting twenty minutes explaining what is there to "understand" about me." He spit back, glancing at Spencer.

"I can't keep talking with you if you act like that."

"I'm not a cute puppy in case you haven't figured that out. I'm not going to be nice just for you, especially when you point out that I'm not how you like to be talked."

"I didn't specify anything."

"Didn't you, doctor?" He focused on the last word, raising his eyebrows.

"Damn it." Spencer walked up to him in a snap, glancing at him for a split second before suddenly taking in his face in his hands as he roughly kissed him.

Not even one of them expected that it'd just take a single argument to let the pressure out.

They were just kissing each other, like that. Spencer was the one who started it, not even wondering if he'd return it or walk away, but turns out that y/n had been the one to take the lead after that, as he gripped his hair, slamming him against the wall.

Nothing really mattered in that moment, they didn't even think about the others possibly walking in, all they both needed to do was to let out of all the frustration contained since this morning.

It wasn't quite only anger, but also because they had both wanted each other, in their own way.

As much as Y/N was afraid to admit it, he did imagine it, slamming him against the wall, even if he wouldn't be strong or even courageous enough to do that.

Spencer did imagine gripping his jaw, especially after he walked out in fury, he was so upset about him that all he wanted was to kiss him to let him know what he felt.

He didn't want to admit it, but he hated it whenever someone raised his voice at him, he needed to do that to calm himself, in some way.

If they weren't in some police station, their shirts would have already been on the floor, the layers of clothes between them were more than infuriating as they tugged at the other's shirt.

And even when they stopped for a moment to breathe again, it didn't take much for their lips to link again after a short glance.

Spencer quickly flipped y/n the other way so he'd be the one against the wall, and to his surprise, his face quickly gained another tint.

He caged him in with one arm against the wall, gripping his chin with the other, as y/n tugged at his hair again, not knowing where else to put them.

Things went fast so quickly, they didn't even think about what they'd do, they just went with the flow.

What they forgot to think and pay attention about, was that they weren't alone in the place.

Literally all of the people working at the station were there, and could possibly start to look for them.

They really didn't care about it, none of them broke the kiss to point it out, it was just four walls, them, and their mixed feelings.

"I still can't stand you." Spencer said in between when they briefly broke the kiss.

"Me neither." He blurted out.

As one of them probably guessed at some point, their inattention cost them when they didn't even hear the lock of the door over their breaths.

"Hey, we found…" JJ walked in, stopping in the middle of the sentence.

The door kept itself open, as the noise of the outside drew in, causing them to break away as both of their eyes were wide open.

Spencer's hair was a mess, strands going everywhere, which would need to be at least fixed with his hand for him to be presentable.

Only the back of y/n's hair was messed up as he was against the wall most of the time.

Both of their shirts had a few buttons out, although, y/n's was the closest to being on the floor if someone hadn't come.

By the time they had begun slowly walking away from the other, she had definitely just seen them making out.

"...something." She ended the sentence, not quite knowing what to say after witnessing the event.

"Oh, uh...we'll uh...meet you in just a sec." Spencer said.

"Right. Okay." JJ responded, closing the door in a hurry.

"I hate to say this to you, but I think we're screwed." Y/N pointed out once she was gone.

"They'll definitely be able to tell from the look on her face and ours when we'll get out."

"Yeah, we should have…done it elsewhere."

"It's a bit late for that."

"You're the one who started, you should have at least chosen another place genius."

"I have to admit it but, true."

"They'll definitely figure out you're the one who started, you basically entered after me."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. You just don't like me." He corrected Spencer, as he opened the door to walk out, walking out of the room.

It didn't take much for some of their coworkers's eyes to lay on them as they entered their vision.

Spencer discreetly approached y/n after Hotch began talking, making sure the attention was elsewhere.

"I'm going to show you how much I 'just don't like you' when we're out of here, you're gonna see."

"Deal."

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #cm fic #cm spencer reid #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #matthew gray gubler fic #cm male reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #male reader

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

in which harry stumbles across your livestream.

a/n: alright lovelies! here is my submission for bificathon hosted by my two lovely friends @bopbopstyles & @harrysclementines !! my prompt is ‘harry accidentally stumbles upon a livestream of her and her friend’ and let me tell you, I SNATCHED THIS SO QUICK! its my first time writing gxg smut, so pls be nice :’). also september is bi awareness month, so happy bi month babies! you’re so all beautiful and valid <3

enjoy 4k words of bi/camgirl!yn x roommate/best friend!harry filled with girl x girl smut/filth

come into my inbox and send feedback and let’s talk about this!

pls rb to share! <3

It was Harry’s usual Thursday night when he found himself lying in his bed with his laptop on his lap and a plate of his dinner in his hands.

He was binge watching interior home designers on Netflix, letting out an ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ as they revealed the finished homes, practically envisioning his future home the same way.

Thursday nights were practically the start of his weekend as he didn’t have classes on Fridays, and usually his friends and him would hang out, but he really just didn’t feel like going out nor did he have the social capacity to hang out and get drunk when he’s probably going to do that on Friday and Saturday.

He simply just wanted a break, and that included staying inside and watching interior designers flip a house completely different, and eating his dinner. And he wasn’t ashamed that he enjoyed it.

After a few episodes and an empty plate, Harry paused the next episode before it even started to put his plate away and grab a glass of water. As he was washing his plate, he heard the door open and close, followed by hushed giggles and whispers.

“Shh. Harry might be asleep,” a voice said, but he knew it was you. You knew that he liked to sometimes sleep early, but he thought it was too early to be asleep, seeing as it was only eight p.m.

“I’m actually in here,” he chuckled, making himself present with his voice.

“Oh!” You said surprisingly, and another laugh was heard.

You made your way to the kitchen, your guest following behind you as you saw Harry in just a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

“Hey, H,” you greeted.

“Hi, love. Have fun tonight?” He asked. You had went to the bar to chill out from the many essays you had to write and exams you had to take, and Thursday nights were also a start to your weekend as well, so fuck it.

“Yeah, I did, thanks for asking. This is Daniela, by the way,” you introduced the girl you had met at the bar.

You had seen Daniela right when you walked in as her and her friends were sitting at the table right next to the entrance, and she immediately caught your eye. She looked right back at you, giving you some flirty eyes herself as you were dragged away by your friends and straight to the bar.

After a few drinks and rounds of dancing with your best girlfriends, you saw Daniela walk over to the bar and order some drinks, so you decided that it was your chance to go up to her.

You two had immediately hit it off, getting to know one another. She told you that she was a lesbian, and you proudly told her that you were bisexual. You also found out that you’re both in the same bio-chem class together, which definitely raised the excitement as she suggested studying together and you happily said yes. Then there was dancing while you two were both buzzed, completely forgetting your friends as you grinded against each other and kissed, not caring that you were practically putting on a show for everyone around you.

And when you suggested that you took her home, she immediately said yes, and you dragged her outside as you waited for the Uber you called.

“Nice to meet you, Daniela. I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand. “Her roommate and friend-”

“Best friend. C’mon, Harry, don’t put yourself lower than that,” you corrected and he smiled.

“Alright, alright. My bad,” he laughed.

“So, we’re gonna go to my room,” you winked him as Harry said ‘have fun’ before cleaning up a bit in the kitchen.

He was glad that one of you was getting laid. He also noticed how happy you were, which he absolutely adored, and he thinks it has to do with the fact that you came out a year ago, and you’re now living your life to the fullest and happiest, and that’s all he wants; is for you to be happy with yourself and in general.

Harry met you at the end of freshman year of college as your friend groups met up with each other at a bar. He was a bit more shy than the rest of his friends, and didn’t immediately mingle with everyone until a few drinks in. But as you introduced yourself to his friends, you noticed him sitting down at the bar, not interacting with anyone. You were also somewhat on the quiet side, but was able to handle introducing yourself, so you completely understood why Harry acted the way he did when you two met.

“Hey, not feeling it tonight?” You asked, taking a seat next to him.

“Eh, not one for going up to people and initiating a conversation,” he said nervously.

“I get that. Makes me nervous to go up to someone and talk to them, but I’m trying to get over that, so here’s me trying,” you chuckled as did he.

“Well, we gotta drink to that then,” he said, and it took him by surprise that he was able to make a joke and laugh.

It could have definitely been the liquid courage, but he was starting to warm up to you; joking around and becoming less tense as you two talked and drank. But that was because you were making him comfortable, to which he appreciated very much.

Since then, you two have been by each other’s side. He told you that your friends kind of intimidated him because they were very out there, and that made you laugh slightly because it was very true, but you made sure to be by his side whenever your groups hung out.

The group hangouts turned into one-on-one hangouts with just you and Harry. He was definitely more comfortable with you, and he really enjoyed your company and presence.

Both of your friends had expected you two to end up together, but you two realized that you were better off as friends—who knows if you two will end up together, but for now, you were happy being best friends with him as was he.

It was a year, the end of sophomore year, when you wanted to move out of the dorms. It wasn’t like you didn’t like your friends and roommates, but sometimes you wanted your own space and that didn’t help when there’s two other people in the same room as you.

So Harry suggested that you both find a flat together since he was on the lookout for a flat anyways, and it’ll help him a ton with bills and whatnot. You excitedly said yes after you asked him if he was sure that he wanted to move in with you, and if he was extra sure that he wanted to since you’d be there when he would take home people. He laughed, and said that he didn’t care and wanted to live with you, saying it’ll be fun. You both had gotten quite close throughout that year and practically told each other everything, so it’ll be even better to live with someone you both trust.

Junior year of uni, he noticed that you always came home with a sad frown on your face, briefly saying hi to him before going straight to your room and locking yourself up for hours. Harry tried figuring out why you were in such a mood all the time, and tracked his steps, seeing if he said anything wrong that made you upset. But he couldn’t figure it out as you both always had light and fun conversations during breakfast and dinner.

And the frown went on for months until you both came back from Christmas break, and you told him that you had to tell him something very important.

“Love, you can tell me anything, you know that right?” He said, reassuring you.

“Yeah. It’s just…I’m nervous to,” you said, shaking your leg. Harry really wondered what happened during break that made you so anxious. He was worried that you wanted to move out and not live with him anymore, but he had to remind himself that it was probably not even about him as he told you to take your time.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he said, and you nodded, giving him a smile before you walked off to your room to gather your thoughts.

An hour later, you came out of your room and found Harry sitting on the couch, watching a film. You sat next to him, and he immediately turned off the TV, giving you his full attention.

You took a deep breath and started, “What I was trying to say earlier was that something about me has changed, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I was still figuring it out, but I was just scared of what you would think,” you said. Harry started to get concerned, but he let you finish talking before he said anything. “So, I’ve always had an attraction towards girls, and I thought it was just me thinking a girl was pretty, but when I started to get nervous and flustered when a girl would talk to me, I realized that I really like them, and I would find myself flirting with them and longing to have something romantic with them. And then when I went back home for break, I met up with a childhood friend, and somehow…we kissed. It was so magical that it made my stomach flutter.”

Harry had smiled softly as you told your story; knowing where this conversation was going, but of course, he stayed silent and let you talk.

“So what I’m trying to tell you is that… I’m bi,” you had said nervously, hands shaking in your lap. You were trying to contain your tears from falling from your face as you shook your leg.

“Love, I’m so happy for you,” he replied, opening his arms to comfort you from the anxiety you were feeling from telling him. You had softly sobbed into his shoulder, feeling the weight on your shoulders disappear as you had finally told the person you were closest to and who you trust the most.

“R-Really?” You said as you pulled away from his hold.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m happy that you can be whoever you want to be and I’m here to support you,” he said, holding your arms and running his hands over your skin.

“Thank you, Harry,” you smiled at him, feeling ultimately grateful for your best friend and his acceptance.

Harry smiled at the memory as he heard giggles through your door, and he chuckled as he finished cleaning before heading to his room. He was feeling a bit tired and despite it being a bit earlier than his usual bedtime, he decided to call it a night a try to get some sleep, deciding that he could go on a run in the morning since he was sleeping early.

But after an hour of tossing and turning, he gave up trying to get a restful sleep, and opened his laptop to put on some Netflix, hoping it would lull him into a deep slumber. He was comfortably watching a random show until his hand grazed his crotch, and he realized he hadn’t relieved himself nor had he had sex in a while.

So, he pushed his boxers down his legs, kicked them off the bed, and took off his shirt before he grabbed some lube and pumped his cock as it immedately hardened in his hand. He began touching himself in the darkness of his room as he quietly groaned out and threw his head back on his pillow.

Realizing he doesn’t have some kind of visual, he stops to search up cam girl sites on the internet so he can get a mental image in his head to get him off. He finally settled on one user that was doing a live stream called ‘KISSYPLS’ as the preview was a girl going down on another with a purple ambiance to the room. The room was dark, but not dark enough where he couldn’t see the two girls.

The sound of the moans from his laptop were quite loud and he didn’t want you to hear it all the way from your room, so he grabbed some headphones from his bedside table, plugging in his earbuds into his ears as the sounds of the girls moaned and talked dirty to each other.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” the girl that was doing the eating out said before she crawled her way up to the other’s body.

And the slightest moment as Harry was watching, the girl on her back had shifted down a bit as they kissed, and Harry’s eyes flew wide open once he glanced. He saw the face that he wouldn’t have expected he would see.

His roommate. His best friend. It was you.

You were being eaten out on his computer screen by Daniela, and he was in complete shock. He honestly hadn’t expected to find you because it was just a random scroll through the site, but holy fuck.

You hadn’t had your account for very long—maybe about three months. But you thought it was a good way to make some extra money because the bills were stacking up and they had to be paid off somehow. And you loved the idea of getting off in front of a camera for random strangers who pay to see that shit.

And of course, Harry didn’t know you were a cam girl at all. He hadn’t seen that coming when he was looking for something to get off to. But he wasn’t complaining. He just didn’t expect you to be the one on the other side of the screen. But there you were, showing your body and having sex with someone on camera for the (as shown) 27 people watching who are also horny as fuck.

You as a person are already beautiful, he knew that, but your body was something else. The way your tits were shown so clearly on his screen with your tattoo that was inked right next to your left tit; as the purple light hit your skin. He wanted to take them in his mouth and devour them.

You were sprawled out onto the bed, naked as Daniela was kissing you, and he couldn’t stop looking at you as your face looked while kissing someone. He was in complete shock that he stopped stroking himself, his dick in his hands as he watched you two make out. But once his cock twitched from the sight of your ass sticking up, getting a view of your glistening pussy and ass, he continued.

You flipped Daniela onto her back, making her squeal in surprise before you started kissing down her body, leaving small and sweet kisses to her soft skin. You took her nipples into your mouth, sucking on it lightly as she moaned. Once you were lying on your stomach between her legs, you gave her inner thighs a kiss before licking one long strike up her pussy. You generally loved the way girls taste rather than guys, so your mouth salivates more when you’re with women, eating them out and tasting them, and pleasuring them to their orgasm.

You tongue focused on her clit, licking her sensitive bud relentlessly as your arms were looped under her thighs, and your hand reached up to grab one of her breasts, taking her nipple in between your finger and lightly pulling it.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned. Her voice was much more high pitched than normal, but you think it’s hot as fuck. “Like that.”

That encouraged you to continue sucking on her clit, and you brought your free hand to plunge two fingers into her wet pussy, curling up to meet the soft spot inside of her. Daniela’s back arched off the bed as her hair was spread out onto the pillow as she grabbed a fistful of your sheets into her hands. You pulled your mouth away from her to place your hand on her clit, rubbing it fast as you continue to finger fuck her. Daniela was an absolute mess above you, chanting that she was going to come as a way to manifest her orgasm.

“C’mon, beautiful. Cum for me,” you encouraged her, the sound of your voice had made Daniela and Harry moan out with how sultry and seductive you sounded. Daniela’s peak washed over her as her hips bucked up, but you placed your arm on top of her thigh to stop her from moving as you calmed her down from her high. You licked her up once more, collecting her juices on your tongue before climbing up her body to connect your lips with her. Daniela could taste herself on you, and it turned her on even more despite just having an orgasm.

Harry watched as you two kissed for a while. She wrapped her arms around your back, pressing her body against yours as you two made out, swirling your tongues together. Harry fondled his balls, intensifying the feeling before going back to stroke his cock. He gripped on his long hair with his other hand, so it felt like someone was in the room pulling his hair for him, and he closed his eyes. With the feeling of his orgasm coming, he was about ready to pump faster so he could get to his peak, but he heard your voice again.

“I’m not done with you yet. Wanna cum again?” You asked her, and she nodded eagerly. “Want you to cum when I say so,” you told Daniela, and she nodded. Harry slowed his movements down as if he felt like you were personally talking to him, even though a lot of people on her live stream felt the way he did once she said those words.

You fixed the laptop, pushing it back a little but still pointing it down to your bodies rather than your face. Giving Daniela a kiss, you situate yourself, putting one leg over her and the other under. You reach between you two, inserting your finger in her wet hole and bringing that wetness to her clit, and she does the same to you.

Slowly moving closer to one another, you touch clits, rubbing it against each other as you two moaned out. The sounds coming from both of your mouths were loud enough that Harry had heard them from his room, and it genuinely felt like he was in the same room as he was also watching it on his screen.

“Fuck, I wanna cum,” he groaned to himself.

“You wanna cum?” You said, rubbing yourself on her and she whimpered out a ‘mhm,’ and you proceeded to grind faster.

“Yeah, please let me,” Harry moaned.

The feeling of both your wetness rubbing together was sending you over the edge as you felt like you were going to explode. Your moans had gotten louder, and you really hoped Harry was wearing some sort of headphones with loud music because you felt bad that you were being this loud, but you couldn’t help it.

But little did you know that Harry was listening to everything.

You felt like Daniela had waited long enough to release, so you grabbed her face gently, giving her a kiss. “Go ahead. Cum for me,” you said breathlessly as you were going to let go after she was done.

Once Harry heard those words, he sighed in relief, letting out a loud groan as his orgasm was released onto his stomach. His abs clenched and his hips bucked into his hand. He grabbed a pillow and bit on it, concealing his moans as he came down from his high. With his chest heaving up and down, he looked over at his laptop to see you breathing deeply and he knew that you had just orgasmed as well.

Your orgasms had hit both of you hard as you were left sprawled out on the bed, laying on opposite sides as your legs were still entangled with one another. Daniela sat up, pulling your body towards her, and she kissed you deeply, still feeling entirely breathless.

“God, you’re amazing,” she said against your lips, and you smiled into the kiss. The live stream was still going on, so Harry continued watching you two interact with one another post orgasm. “Kinda wanna use that dildo of yours on you,” she smirked, and you chuckled, nodding your head eagerly.

“Like a threesome, but with a dildo,” you joked, and she laughed.

“Maybe we should have one?”

“What? A threesome?” You asked, pulling back, and she nodded her head and shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, why not?”

“With who?”

Just on cue, a knock was heard on your door quite loud, making you and Daniela turn your heads towards the door. Before you even had the chance to even get up, the door opened, revealing Harry in just his boxers. You couldn’t help but look down at his crotch area and see his cock hard.

“Done with the show ladies?” He asked, smirking. The two of you were still completely naked, but neither of you cared to make an effort to cover yourselves.

“W-What?” You stuttered and looked at Daniela as she had no clue what was going on either.

“Watched your live stream,” he finally said, and your eyes widened.

“How did you find it?” You asked, moving towards the edge of the bed, and Daniela stayed behind near the headboard.

“By coincidence, I swear,” he said, walking towards you. “Was just scrolling and I was horny as fuck, and I stumbled upon it.”

“D-Did you like it?” A nervous tone came with your words, and it was strange because you’ve never been nervous with Harry, except the time you came out to him. A huge part of you wanted him to say he liked it and that he enjoyed the show, and you really hoped he did.

He stood in between your legs and looked down at you as you looked up. The sight below him was just something that irked him; you looking up at him with wide eyes, acting innocent and him looking down at you with a raging hard on, begging to be touched by you and your mouth. He placed his hands on both sides of your face, caressing your warm cheek as he studied you for a moment. The smear of mascara that laid under your eyes and your flushed cheeks made his cock twitch.

Just from watching your live stream, he noticed that you were quite dominant in bed with girls. But with how you’re looking at him, wanting validation and reassurance from him, you’re submissive with men (or just him in general).

His stare was intimidating, and the dark purple light illuminating your room didn’t help. He’s never seen you naked and bare, so that added to the stress of if he likes what he sees. But you were surprised that you didn’t want to cover up in front of him. Throughout the years of being best friends and roommates, you two have never fucked. Although you have kissed multiple times, it was purely platonic and sometimes you just needed a kiss every once in a while. And as your best friend, Harry was happy to help.

“Of course I fucking loved it. Wanna know my favorite part?” You smiled softly, nodding slowly as you looked at him with big and innocent eyes. He bent down, matching your eye level before he whispered, “Well, first of all you, of course. Looked so damn beautiful, I swear.” You blushed, and he continued. “But the part when Daniela suggested a threesome just a minute ago. If you and her are up with me being a plus one, then I am. Your wish is my command,” he said softly, kissing your nose.

Daniela gasped behind you, a big smile on her face as she crawled to the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder before she spoke.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have a lot of fucking fun.”

#harry styles smut #bi!reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles ff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #roommate!harry #uni!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles au #gxg #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry #hs

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elldell1204 · 3 years

Text

Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg fluff

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beth-yeet365 · 3 years

Text

“Could I have your number?”

Requested by @m-a-r-z - thank you for the request <3

I was wondering if you could do a Bradley Simpson fluff like maybe I’m a friend of Tristan’s and we meet for the first time.

Pairing: Bradley Will Simpson x fem!reader

Genre: fluff (there is a small smidgeon of angst in the start)

Word count: 1.6k+

Summary: your best friend encourages you to go to a bar to meet his friends and who knows? maybe you might find a new one...

**CREDIT TO OWNER OF THIS GIF**

“Come on Y/NNN,” Tristan begs you.

“I just want to be at home, Tris,” you tell him, half lying.

Tristan, your best friend, has tried for the past 5 minutes to get you to meet his friends at a bar since you had only met them in passing and Tris wanted bring his best friends together so you could be one group of best friends.

He had been asking for a while now and each time you turned him down coming up with different excuses each time like “I’m not in the mood to go out” or “I’m not feeling that well, raincheck?”.

Truth is, you were worried they mightn’t like you or you would feel excluded because you’re new to the group and they’ve been friends a long time now and therefore feel excluded. Like an outsider.

Also a guy you didn’t have a name for, ‘cause you only met them briefly, was so handsome with the most gorgeous curls.

“Y/N,” Tristan began, worried now. “What is it? You keep turning it down.”

You could see on his face he was worried.

“Okay, well,” you began and cleared your throat before continuing. “I-I am just worried that they mightn’t like me or because you guys have been friends for a long time now that I will feel...” You trailed off.

“Y/N, they will love you,” Tristan assured you, grasping both your arms to make you at him. “They’re good guys and you won’t feel like you’re not there. I won’t let that happen, Okay?”

You sighed and looked anywhere but his face.

It had always been hard for you to meet new people but maybe now it’s a good time to meet new people - break out of your shell, you thought.

“Okay,” you began, seeing his face light up at your answer. “Just let me get ready quickly:” You told him, gesturing down to the joggers and oversized sweater you were wearing and you hair in a bun you had slept in.

“Fair, I’ll be waiting here,” he said and sat down on your sofa.

You went your room and went straight to your dresser.

There you found some simple, dark blue jeans, a black, short sleeved t-shirt and an oversized zip-up sweater. Very casual.

You were already going out of your comfort zone so you definitely weren’t wearing something out of your comfort zone.

You looked in the mirror to determine what to do with your hair.

You decided to take it out and throw it in a pony tail because of the kinks in your hair from the bun.

You also put on some lip balm, mascara and tinted brow gel to make it like you at least tried.

You walked out of your room and saw Tristan look up form his phone.

“Ready?” he asked. You nod as confirmation.

You moved to the hallway of your flat to put on your shoes.

You locked the door and went down to Tris’ car.

You arrived at the bar and Tris stopped the car.

He looked at you again as if asking if you were still okay with it you smiled back.

You appreciated how much he cared for you.

You went into the bar and were instantly met with the loud voices of various groups of people sitting and talking with each other.

You felt Tris take your hand and leading you to a booth in the back where the three guys and a girl you hadn’t met before were sitting in and deep in conversation.

You guessed they chose the back to avoid recognition as much as possible.

You stopped at the table they were sitting at and the four before stopped their conversation.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Tris introduced. “You have met her before.”

“Yeah I remember you,” James started. “I’m James and this is Kirstie, my fiancée.” He introduced.

His fiancée held out her hand to shake yours, which you gladly took.

“I’m Brad.”

Shit.

That’s the handsome guy with the most gorgeous curls.

So his name is Brad.

Oh Lord, he’s so attractive.

“And I’m Connor, but call me Con,” the guy with the pastel pink hair said.

Connor sat in towards the wall on his right with Brad to his left.

Brad moved in a bit to make some space for you to sit beside him and you gratefully took the invitation. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder since the booth was a bit on small side. Sitting this close

“I’m just getting a chair,” Tris said.

The conversations ran smoothly and they included you in the conversations.

At first you didn’t give that much input in the conversations ‘cause you were still nervous but soon enough you loosened up a bit more and you made jokes with them. You felt at ease.

You do however notice that Kirstie looks at Brad with a raised eyebrow occasionally.

“It’s so good to have another girl today, Y/N,” Kirstie says. “Sometimes there’s just too much testosterone when you’re the only one.”

“Tell me about it,” you add. “Do you know how hard it is to keep up with him?” You ask, pointing at Tris.

“Hey! We’re not that bad!” Connor exclaims.

“Well, you guys can’t feel ‘cause you share the hormone,” Kirstie answers.

“Us people with estrogen can definitely feel it at times,” you point between yourself and Kirstie.

You laugh again but you stop when you feel a hand on your thigh.

You looked up to see Brad talking to James with his hand on your thigh.

Oh goodness, a really hot guy has his hand on your thigh.

This is not a drill people! His hand is on. Your. Thigh!

You could feel your face heat up. You weren’t used to this sort of attention from a guy.

You looked around for the bathroom and find the sign for the bathroom.

“I just need to go to the bathroom quick, I’ll be right back.” You say to the group.

“I also need to go,” Kirstie also says. “Scooch, James.”

James scooched and Kirstie made it out of the booth.

You go to the bathroom with Kirstie even though you only wanted to go in there to calm down and control your thoughts.

When you don’t go into a booth Kirstie looks at you with a questioning gaze.

“I thought you wanted to go to the bathroom?” She asks.

“Umm,” you think of what to say to her. “Not really.”

Really, Y/N? That’s the best you can think of?

“Is it Brad?” This throws you off.

“W-what are you talking about?” You stutter out.

“Sweetheart, I noticed it from when he introduced himself,” she tells you.

Your face heats up and you look anywhere but her face, fiddling with you fingers.

“Are you okay?” She asks when you don’t say anything.

“I’m just not used to this stuff,” you start. “Hell, it even took Tris a long time to convince me to come meet you guys ‘cause I’m not one to meet new people and then Brad is so pretty and handsome and puts his hand on my thigh and my heart keeps racing so much and I don’t frickin’ know why!”

You finish your rant with deep breaths.

“Well, he looks at you when you don’t notice,” Kirstie throws Brad under the bus.

“Really?” You ask to which she nods.

Than you piece it together.

“That’s why you’ve throwing him those looks!”

Again, she nods.

“Why don’t you take a few seconds to calm down, clear your mind and go back out and remember that Brad also feels what you feel but I actually to go the bathroom so I’m gonna go now.”

You laugh and nod.

She went into a booth and you took a deep breath before going out the door.

“I need to get going now, “ Connor tells you and motions for you and Brad to move out the booth and you both comply.

“Yeah, Kirstie and I should probably head home as well,” James says.

“Yeah let’s all go home now, do you need a lift on the way home?” Tristan asks Brad.

“Yeah, thanks, mate,” he answers.

You all hug each other and all move to your separate cars.

“Shotgun!” Brad declares and you smile at it.

You move to the backseat while he claims the prized front seat of Tris’ car.

“I’m gonna leave Y/N off first and then you, Brad, ‘cause Y/N lives closest,” Tris tells both of you and you nod.

During the short drive that was the journey to you flat you heard some music.

You arrived at your flat and you got of your car.

“Bye guys, nice to meet you Brad,” you say and they both return the goodbye.

You’re almost at the door of the apartment complex you rent your flat when you hear a door open.

“Hey Y/N!” Brad calls out to you and you turn around and see him jogging up to you.

“You almost forgot your phone,” He tells you.

“Oh! Thank you,” you thank him.

“You’re welcome.”

He turns around, walks a few steps before turning around to face you again.

“Could I have your number?” He asks you and you smile shyly and nod.

He unlocks his phone for you and you type in your number to his contacts.

“Thanks,” he says breathlessly.

“You’re welcome.”

You move to kiss his cheek and he blushes and you can’t keep that goofy smile off your face.

“Bye,” you both say simultaneously.

When he’s in the car again you unlock the door of the complex.

You do a little happy dance but nobody needs to know that.

#bradley simpson x reader #bradley simpson fluff #bradley simpson imagine #bradley simpson imagines #bradley simpson #bradley will simpson #brad simpson imagines #brad simpson x reader #brad simpson fluff #brad simpson imagine #Brad Simpson

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writingfeatherduster · 3 years

Note

Hmm a sansby prompt? If you want something slightly more angst filled, maybe have Grillby be the knight in shining armor after someone won’t take no for an answer from Sans? Or maybe just some cute fluff, like cuddling while watching a movie :3

As I like to say in these situations- why not both?

Keep You Safe

Word count: 2667 Summary: When someone won’t take no for an answer, Grillby steps in. Warnings: Sexual assault SERIOUSLY, MIND THE WARNINGS

Sans always hated it when there weren’t any available seats at the bar. It was great that Grillby’s was getting good business these days, but it also meant he’d have to wait a bit to talk to his favorite fire monster, and he couldn’t even watch him while he worked very well. The skeleton caught Grillby’s eye as he came in and gave him a little wave and a wink before making his way towards one of the booths closest to the bar. Grillby gave him a nod and got back to mixing the line of drinks he was working on. Sans couldn’t help but notice that Grillby looked nervous. The skeleton frowned a bit and kept a careful eye on him, praying that a stool at the bar would open up soon so he could help. He was watching the bartender so intently that he barely noticed when another monster came and sat next to him in the booth.

“Well hi there,” the monster said with a toothy grin. Like, really toothy. Because she was a shark monster. She was probably wearing more makeup than clothes, and the look she gave Sans was positively predatory. The skeleton could already see where this was going.

“Lemme stop you right there.” Sans scooted sideways in the booth, putting a bit more distance between himself and the stranger. God, this lady reeked of perfume. “I appreciate it, but I’m not really looking for any’body’ to hand out with right now, heh.”

Sans knew he was hilarious, but he still thought she laughed too hard at that. Instead of backing off, she inched closer to him. “C’mon, cutie, don’t be that way! Besides, you didn’t need to look. I found you first~!”

“Unfortunately,” Sans grumbled. He moved over again, finding his shoulder against the wall. “Really, lady, not interested tonight.”

“You know, you’re really hot, for a guy with no skin.” The shark monster moved in closer, turning towards Sans and putting one hand on the wall next to his head. “Don’t be so cold. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

With the shark monster leaning over him, it occurred to Sans just how bad this was. He’d teleport out, but he couldn’t focus on a location with this monster’s damn perfume giving him a headache. He was well and truly trapped, hidden by unsuspecting crowds of monsters and a secluded booth. “Answer’s no,” he tried, “Back off.”

She laughed at him again, suddenly slipping a hand under Sans’s shirt. He slapped it away, but she just grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the table, moving in again to rub his ribcage. “You really are just bones and magic, aren’t you? There are so many places I could get inside you, hehe~. Come on skeleton, let me show you some real fun~.”

Sans froze as her hand started to wander downward. This couldn’t be happening. Fuck, no, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

WHOOSH! BANG!

The monster over Sans went still as the bar went silent, eyes wide. There was a dark char mark on the wall above the booth’s table. A few inches to the left, and it would have hit her square in the back. She withdrew her hand and looked behind her, eyes widening further as she paled.

Grillby was standing in front of the booth, and he looked pissed. His fire was burning higher and hotter than Sans had ever seen, the heat radiating off him as his entire body crackled. The glare he fixed the shark monster was murderous, and to make things more frightening, he’d summoned an arc of fireballs over his head, ready for a fight. “Get. Your hands. Off him,” he snarled darkly. His usually warm voice had taken on a dark, steely edge that Sans had never heard from him before. In that moment, the skeleton was fully convinced that Grillby was capable of killing.

The shark monster was quick to comply, scrambling away from Sans and stumbling over themselves as they hastily stood from the booth. “Right! I’ll- um- I’ll be g-going the- ah!”

Grillby grabbed her by her neck, dragging her forward. The shark monster cried out as her moist skin steamed, drying out and threatening to blister. The fire monster paid that no mind. “Oh? And where do you think you’re going?” he asked threateningly. “We’re not done here. I think you and I need to have a little c h a t.” He raised his hand, the fireballs moving in closer. The monster whimpered at their heat, struggling as the grip on her neck tightened.

Ding! You’re blue now!

The shark monster was suddenly pulled down, out of Grillby’s grasp. As soon as she was free, she made a break for the door, terrified. The bartender moved like he was going to pursue her, but a wall of blue bones appeared in front of him, making him stop. Grillby stepped back, glancing towards the booth.

Sans had his hand up, both pupils gone and shaken. “H-hey, Grillbz? Why don’t we just calm down a sec? I’m okay, see? Nothin’ happened, s’all good.”

The fire monster paused, looking back at the door. After a moment, his gaze dropped and the fireballs he summoned disappeared in wisps of smoke. His hands were shaking. He turned back to the booth and walked towards Sans.

“Did she hurt you?” Grillby mumbled, hesitating by the table. All at once, the calm, caring Grillby that Sans knew had come back, eyes full of fearful concern. “I’m so sorry, Sans, I-i didn’t see her come in. I should’ve been keeping a better eye out, I know this booth can be secluded and-”

Sans’s pupils slowly lit up again as he relaxed. “Nah, Grillbz, I’m fine,” he reassured. He let out a shaky sigh as he finally relaxed. “Not gonna lie, that was pretty intense. Never thought I’d ever get to see you so ‘fired’ u- whoa!”

Grillby suddenly pulled Sans out of his seat, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Sans’s hoodie. The monster was shaking all over. He was angry, but when he’d seen Sans cornered, he’d been so scared. The skeleton had insisted he wasn’t hurt, but Grillby found himself summoning small flames of green magic anyway, letting them dance over Sans as they checked for any injury.

Sans huffed fondly, the last of the tension leaving his bones as he returned the embrace. Grillby’s natural scent of smoke was much better than sickeningly sweet perfume. “I’m okay, Grillby, I promise. Maybe we should go somewhere quiet to chill for a sec?”

“Agreed,” Grillby mumbled into his jacket. He pulled back slightly, then suddenly picked Sans up.

Sans squeaked, then laughed. “I can walk, y’know.”

“I know,” was all Grillby said as he carried Sans back into the kitchen, bringing him to the small table in the back corner. Instead of setting him down, Grillby sat in one of the chairs and kept Sans in his lap, never releasing him from that warm, protective embrace. Safe and secluded, he let his guard down a bit, one hand coming up to cup Sans’s cheekbones. “I’m sorry. That- that was unlike me. I just…”

“Hey, I get it.” Sans brought his hand up to cover Grillby’s. “You don’t need to be apologizing. I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come over she probably would’ve… she…” The full reality of what had nearly happened started to sink in and Sans started trembling. “She probably would’ve… fuck, what the fuck…” Tears started to fill Sans’s eyes as the last of the adrenaline drained from him. “Holy shit, I almost got raped. I almost got raped. What the fuck?”

Grillby pulled Sans close again, rubbing his back soothingly as the skeleton gripped his shirt. “I’ve got you, breathe,” he mumbled gently. There was the breakdown he’d been anticipating. “It’s okay if you need to cry, I’ve got you. We’re alone. You’re safe now.”

That was exactly what Sans needed to hear. He sobbed quietly into Grillby’s shirt, trembling as he tried to process what exactly just happened. What nearly happened. What could have happened, if Grillby hadn’t swooped in and put the fear of whatever God might be out there into that scummy pervert. He slowly became aware that Grillby was humming, the low vibrations soothing in Sans’s skull. The skeleton sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Deep breaths. He was safe. Deep breaths.

“I’m going to close early,” Grillby mumbled gently. “Will you be alright if I leave you here a moment?”

Sans nodded. “Yeah, I-i think I’m good. I’m just gonna go home.”

“No.” Grillby pulled away, meeting Sans’s eyes. “You are in no condition to be using your shortcuts, and I’m not going to let you walk in case that- ...in case it isn’t safe, this time of night. Go ahead and text Papyrus. You’re going to be staying with me this evening. I-if that’s alright,” he amended quickly. The last thing he wanted to do to Sans was force him into something, especially after what had transpired that evening.

Sans didn’t feel forced at all, though. He gave Grillby a weak smile. “That… that sounds nice. Yeah. I wouldn’t mind that. You go close up, I’ll text Papyrus.”

Relief filled the bartender and he stood, careful not to drop Sans as he transferred the skeleton to the chair. “I’ll be right back,” he assured as he straightened up. With that, he walked back out to his restaurant to herd customers out.

Sans had never seen the inside of Grillby’s apartment before. He knew the bartender lived in an apartment above the restaurant, and that the stairs lead directly into the kitchen, but that was about it. It was a little smaller than Sans had anticipated. Most of the space was taken up by the living room, with a cozy-looking couch piled with pillows and a bookshelf that looked ready to collapse under the sheer number of books that had been stacked on it. A small kitchenette was tucked into the corner of the apartment, and it looked like there was only one bedroom and a bathroom down the short hallway. It took Sans no time at all to make himself comfortable on the couch, kicking off his pink slippers and nesting into the cushy throw pillows.

Grillby gave the skeleton a fond smile, taking the comforter off the back of the couch and draping it over Sans’s shoulders. “Would you like me to turn on the television? I don’t have much in the way of movies, but my niece brought me a copy of a human show that I find to be fairly interesting. I mostly watch for the music.”

“Heh, so long as there are jokes in it, I’m down,” Sans replied with a shrug. He would probably fall asleep part of the way through it, but some background noise wouldn’t hurt.

Grillby kneeled next to the television and pulled out a small booklet, flipping through it to find the first disk. “Here we are,” he mumbled to himself as he found the one he wanted, getting everything set up before taking the remote and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. The disk loaded and a colorful title lit up the screen.

Sans tilted his head, mildly interested. “‘Steven Universe’, huh? No offense, but I never pegged you as a guy that’d be into cartoons.”

“It’s an occasional indulgence,” Grillby mumbled with a shrug. Was he blushing?

Sans snickered. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Grillbz. If you like it then it must be a good show. Let’s see what it’s about.”

Grillby smiled a bit, then hit play, relaxing back into the pillows. “I think you’ll like this one. Humans have such interesting concepts of magic…”

Four episodes later, Sans was hooked, watching the screen intently. He had to get himself one of those novelty backpacks. As he watched the protagonists fight evil breakfast foods, he turned to tell Grillby a joke, only to find himself meeting the bartender’s eyes. Grillby blushed and quickly looked back at the screen, but it was too late. He was caught staring.

Sans just chuckled. “Uh, can I help you with somethin’?”

“Sorry,” Grillby huffed, adjusting his glasses. At some point he’d undone his tie, letting it hang loose around his neck. He’d slipped off his shoes and pulled his knees up, hugging a pillow as he sat curled up on the couch. There was something about seeing Grillby this way that made Sans’s soul feel light. It just felt so… domestic, sitting there and watching one of the bartender’s favorite shows together. Grillby cleared his throat, breaking Sans from his thoughts as he continued. “I’m… still worried about you. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Sans replied automatically, but that didn’t seem to reassure the fire monster at all.

“Sans,” Grillby sighed, reaching for the remote and pausing the show, “Please, be honest with me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sans took a deep breath and thought about it. After a long moment, he finally answered. “Okay, maybe not,” Sans admitted, “But I’m doing better. This,” he said as he gestured around himself, “Is helping. Like, a lot. I think this is exactly what I needed.”

Grillby nodded a bit, satisfied. “Well, is there anything more I can do for you?”

“I’m good.” Sans shrugged a bit, then took another look at Grillby. The bartender was great at reading Sans, but sometimes he forgot how good Sans had gotten at reading him in return. Grillby was tense, shoulders hitched up slightly as he hugged the pillow like it was going to run away. “Is there something I can do for you?” Sans asked, voice gentling as he did. “That scared the soul out of you, too, didn’t it?”

Grillby looked away again, feeling guilty. “I’m not the one that got harassed, Sans.”

“Nah, just the one who watched his best friend get sexually assaulted,” Sans pointed out. “We were both ‘rattled’, heh. Lemme help you out, too. Somethin’ I can do for ya?”

“Well,” Grillby mumbled, “Can I… is it alright if I hold you again?”

That hadn’t been what Sans was expecting, but he was more than up for it. “Sure. You’re gonna have to let that pillow breathe first, though.”

Grillby chuckled and let the pillow drop to the floor, lowering his knees and shifting so he was reclining at an angle before opening his arms to Sans. Sans crawled over and settled himself in the bartender’s lap, arms wrapped around his torso and head resting on his chest. Grillby pressed play on the remote, starting the show again before letting his arms fall gently over Sans’s back as he held him close. Sans felt the warmth envelope him and sighed, content. “Hey, Grillbz?”

“Hm?” Grillby looked down at him with a tilt of his head. Sans’s soul melted a bit under the gently, caring gaze. God, this monster was going to be the death of him.

“Thank you,” Sans mumbled.

Grillby gave him a small smile, bringing one hand up to briefly cup the back of Sans’s skull. “You’re welcome. So long as I’m here, I’m going to keep you safe. You mean the world to me, Sans.”

And oh, if that didn’t make Sans feel like the luckiest monster alive.

They settled into a comfortable silence, watching the cartoon play on. As the night wore on, Sans found himself starting to doze in Grillby’s arms, yawning as he fought to keep his eye sockets open. “Hey, Grillbz?” he mumbled, “Maybe we should…” He trailed off as he looked up, smiling. Grillby’s head rested against the back of the couch, the fire monster fast asleep. Sans levitated the remote to himself, determined not to wake Grillby as he turned the TV off before cuddling closer and closing his eyes. Who needed beds, anyway?

Grillby was the warmest pillow he could ask for.

I hope you enjoyed this one! If you did like it, why not reblog/leave a comment to let me know your favorite part? As always, thank you for reading!

#dustyfic #undertale #sans #grillby #sans x grillby #undertale sans #undertale grillby #sansby #undertale fic #undertale fanfiction #tw assault

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talas-starlight · 4 years

Text

Lover - Percy Jackson x Fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve crushed on Percy for years, him on the other hand? It’s more of a recent development. That doesn’t mean he likes you any less.

(Older Percy & reader - they're like 21) ALSO idk perfectly what happens in trials of apollo so let’s just ✨ignore that ✨ & this isn’t sexual despite what the title may suggest

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: hi friends this is for @fromthewatertribe ‘s 1k follower event!! Im sure most of you have but if not definitely check out their work!! Its soooo good I promises and ugh their Leo fic?! *chefs kiss* anyway idk if this is any good oop I tried

PROMPTS USED: 9 & 11. (they’re bolded)

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of ptsd & anxiety, kissing stuff lol ish eh idk, mentions of percabeth breakup?? Does that count?

MASTERLIST: here!

An obnoxiously red and orange light filters into the motel room, even with the old and tattered curtains closed, the motels’ sign conquers its way through the fabric. Sighing you flop yourself on the faded, probably twenty-year-old bed. Nose scrunching as some dust raises into the air, consequently letting out a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Did you just bless yourself?”

You winced at the reminder someone else was in the room, exhausted after the two-day travel to a motel room in the middle of whoop. “Yeah…”

“You really are something, aren’t you?” At the calm amusement evident in his tone, your heart rate began to slow down. He didn’t think you were crazy.

You let out a breathy laugh. Wow, I wonder how those stains got on the ceiling? Lava monster perhaps? Are those even a thing? Probably.

“Yeah… well, someone has to Jackson.” You glance towards him, he’s sitting at the small, poor excuse of a dining table. Heart rate picking up again as he gives you a small smile, already having his eyes on you this entire time.

“If I don’t, who will?” you continue.

“Touché. In that case, I’ll do the blessing from now on; you deserve a break.” Shooting you a wink. Instantly feeling flustered at his action, you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, Percy, if only you knew you’ve already been blessing me for the past six years.

“Even say…. If we’re in a battle?” you muse.

He gets up from the table and walks towards you. Once he reaches your side of the queen bed, he kneels, grabbing the hand closest to him, while putting his other on top of his heart. “Oh, y/n l/n, even with my dying breath.”

With that, you burst into a fit of laughter. This boy and his sarcasm.

You play along. “Hmmm what a great tale that will be. The one and only, Perseus Jackson, spending his final breath on sweet old y/n l/n. How dare you burden me with such a legacy to live up to! They’ll think I’m your lover, you know. Demigods all around the world will come searching for me, just to gawk at the beauty that stole your heart.”

At this point, Percy has fallen from his kneeling position, completely lying on the ground, overcome with laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Percy! How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I don’t live up to their expectations?! I’m hardly a warrior either, oh the disappointment.”

Gasping for breath, he manages to find his words, “Don’t stress it y/n, you’re plenty beautiful. I just know they’ll all be stunned by your beauty. Don’t sell yourself short… trust me, once they see you, they’ll be envious that my lover was so enraptured by me that you’ll never be able to love again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. Would that be so bad?

Gasping for breath, eventually, both of your laughs die down, leaving you both breathing heavily. “C’mon Percy, let’s get some sleep. Its going to be a long week of scouting for demigods if we’re tired.”

As Percy nods, silently getting up to go to the bathroom to change, but he can’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. No matter how long.

It had been three days since you and Percy arrived in the town you continuously fail to remember the name of. It wasn’t the only thing you were failing at doing either, because it seemed that for some unknown reason, the school that was supposed to arrive here for their camping trip still hadn’t shown up.

“We should send an Iris message to camp. It doesn’t look like they’re showing up any time soon, and by the looks of things, we’re going to need to have them send someone for more supplies.”

Percy sighed, looking out the window. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Maybe… he knew he’d be a stupid fool to pass it up. Swept up in his new thoughts, he never replied. “Percy?”

Without even looking at you, he nodded, turning to go to the bathroom, “Yeah sure, I’ll go into the bathroom and make the call.”

Humming in acknowledgement as he left the room, you couldn’t help but stare at the spot he was previously standing in from your position on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look too good.

For such a great hero, you wondered if this quest was doing him any good. After the first day of scouting the campsite, it was obvious he was already antsy to get home. It seemed no matter how light you tried to keep the atmosphere; it was like something was weighing on his mind. Mostly when you were both in the motel room together, you supposed it was because he barely went on quests nowadays. Understandably so, after all, who could blame him for wanting a break and spend time with his family? This made you feel immensely guilty since you could never give him words of truly understanding what he’s gone through. You’d arrived at camp a few days before him, yet over the years you were never sent onto a major quest. It upset you greatly at first, but you grew to appreciate your time at camp.

Before your mind could delve further into its guilt and self-pity, Percy re-entered the room, sitting next to you with a huff. “It’s all good. They’re going to send Leo with some extra supplies, and he’ll help us for the rest of this quest.”

Accidentally getting swept up in how pretty his eyes were, you tensed up, realising he was staring at you expectantly. Quickly nodding and clearing your throat you looked down to your lap, “ahh, okay that sounds good. I guess we’ll have time to sightsee or something…”

Sightsee? Really y/n? There’s nothing in this stupid town!

An awkward silence filled the room. Due to your previous thoughts, you were unsure how to proceed. This was the first time you were alone with him and had nothing else better to do.

Percy on the other hand, found that the obvious swooning look in your eyes was his green light. “Uhhh actually y/n?”

Oh, please don’t ask me why I basically just drooled all over you for NO FUCKING REASON. Snapping your head back up to look at him, you desperately tried to ignore the pounding in your chest that managed to find its way into your ears, “yeah?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Holy shit he knows, doesn’t he? He knows I’ve liked him this entire time, and he’s going to reject me even though I never even said anything!

“I uhm… look I know we’re kind of on a small quest and all but technically we ARE waiting for Leo and the school to arrive before we continue… and you know we kind of have like at least a day or two until then so I was just wondering…”

“Yeah, Percy? You can just say it, you know; I really don’t mind.” I do mind, but please get this over with before I cry. With your heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and face heating up so much, you wanted Zeus to blast you right then and there.

Percy felt like he was about to puke, he’d never felt this nervous before. Yeah, he had his moments growing up with Annabeth, after all, she was his first girlfriend, but this was different. He wanted this to be different. Sure, he never regretted their relationship, and yes, he knew he’d always remember everything they went through- what he went through but… he wanted a clean slate. He desperately just wanted nothing more than to know that there was at least one person in his life that wasn’t constantly fighting for their lives—someone who didn’t have to live with as much trauma as him.

“W- would you maybe... Gods, do you want to have dinner tomorrow night? Maybe at the diner further into the town?”

HOLY FUCK.

He was interested and honestly, you were over the moon. Breathing out the breath you were holding in, you fail to hide the smile on your face, “yeah, I’d like that.”

His face instantly broke out into a wide smile matching yours. “Wait really?”

Unable to hold back a small giggle, you nodded, “yeah, Percy.”

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admire the blue dress you found in a charity shop this morning while Percy was sleeping. I can’t believe this is happening.

If you had old even more awkward 15-year-old y/n that you were about to go on a date with the boy you admired from your table during meals (when he was there), you would’ve laughed. Mainly because at that point, he didn’t even know you existed, only having your first conversation during the battle of Manhattan when you were helping Will.

Okay… lets do this.

Walking out of the bathroom, Percy is already sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt, jeans and converse waiting for you.

“Woah… You look uh-” Never finishing his statement, worry bubbled in your chest.

“Oh, uhm… I- I can change if you’d like?

Jumping up from his place on the bed, his head shook quickly. “NO! N-no don’t do that.”

“Ah uhm… okay? Sorry, it’s just I saw it in a store earlier and uhm… it looked nice, and I just thought that maybe it’d be cool to maybe put in a bit more effort? I mean… not that you don’t look good or anything! I love what you wear, you always look nice! but I don’t know… I don’t get to look nice much and… I just wanted it to be kinda special since we don’t get to… well our lives don’t really grant us these opportunities very often. Or at least for me anyway…”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I totally get it… you look beautiful.” After hearing your small confession and thought to prepare for your date, his heart felt like it was melting. How could someone be so thoughtful when all he was doing was taking you to a rundown diner who probably only served mediocre burgers?

A small wave of guilt washed through him. Feeling like he would never be able to truly sweep you off your feet or give you that sweet, tooth-rotting love and affection, every day, just like you deserved. After everything, he knew he could try his best but even then, he’d never be able to hide the anxiety or PTSD he had acquired over the years.

You looked up to him with a smirk. “Glad to hear it, lover.”

Cheeks heating up at your comment, he laughed trying to play it off as cool as possible. Taking a step closer to you and flattening his shirt as if it would wipe away its wrinkles, he held out his arm. “Shall we, lover?”

Matching his level of fake sophistication, you linked your arm with his, “with pleasure.”

And with that, you both walked out of the motel, with hopeful spirits. To any onlooker, you both looked like normal young adults.

“Where the fuck are you?!” Percy’s voice boomed from his end of the phone, supposedly made without any monster risks.

You winced, slowly and cautiously walking your way out of the forest. The once clean dress was now covered in dirt and had few tears. It went perfectly with your dishevelled, twig and leaf infested hair.

“Space doesn’t really exist, so I’m nowhere. Life is built on social constructs and, since there’s no way to know if we’re really alive or if it’s just an illusion, I can’t be anywhere.”

“Y/n.”

Okay, he was concerned, and you couldn’t blame him. After all, how did you expect him to react after getting separated from you as you were chased into the woods by an Empousai after dinner?

Romance at its finest.

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up, but I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as you replayed the events that just occurred in your head. The date was amazing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still sweet. Which led you both to go on one of those cliché night walks. That was nice too, until two Empousai came out of the forest and decided to attack you both.

Percy being…. Well Percy, he swiftly got out riptide and didn’t hesitate to defend the two of you. You, on the other hand, were completely caught off guard only just noticing as one of them turned their focus on you while Percy was distracted.

And what did you do like the perfectly trained demigod you were?

You ran like a headless chicken into the forest.

After a few minutes of running, they tackled you into the ground. Trying and failing failed to shove them off, you suddenly remembered the dagger you strapped to your thigh under your dress and stabbed them.

Clearly not your proudest moments.

Finally making it back to the room, you unlocked the door and let out a huff of relief. “Well… that date didn’t go as expected.”

Percy, took in your current state staring at you with wide eyes… but he didn’t say anything. Is he angry at me? Fuck now he’s going to call off whatever this is, all because I’m an incompetent idiot! I knew I should have tried harder in the sparring activities at camp.

Feeling highly intimidated under his intense stare, you began to play with the hem of your dress, voice going quiet. “Look I uh- I know it probably wasn’t the date you were hoping for but I uhm-“

Before you could even finish your poor excuses, your words are soon lost entirely. Percy stalked towards you with a determined look on his face. Reaching you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your face, smashing his lips onto yours.

You let out a small, muffled squeak of surprise as your eyebrows shot up into Olympus. Yet unlike your fighting skills, this was something you managed to adapt to at a faster pace.

Eyes fluttering closed, you fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

Because Gods forbid if this your one chance, you weren’t letting this moment end that easily.

Moving your lips against his, the urgency he came onto you with slowly began to dissipate, feeling his soft, but slightly chapped lips move against yours. Deepening the kiss, you let go of his shirt, gliding your hands up his tense torso and along his strong arms, eventually placing your hands on his wrists that were on either side of your face. Applying a small amount of pressure to the inside of his wrists with your thumbs, his mind began to drift into a calming haze as you softly stroked them. It was almost as if you were able to brush away the worry that bubbled in him when he got back to the room, only to find you weren’t there. Yet here you were… safe.

It was intoxicating and calming having him so close to you, his entire being overcoming your senses to a point where you fought the urge to let out a small whimper when he pulled away.

Resting his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling heavily flushed against you; he continued to hold you in his warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He whispers, breath fanning against your face.

Because as much as Percy was afraid he’d let you down, he knew no matter what you were worth every single risk.

“…but I’m going to have to teach you a few things when we get back to camp. We can’t have my lover running away in battle all the time, how will I know if you sneeze?”

Letting out a snort, you playfully hit his chest. “Anything for you, lover.”

A soft smile graces his face as he looks at you adoringly as the word takes on a whole new meaning… because you were right. He’d do anything.

A/N: whelp! i hope you all liked it :)) its not perfect but oh well?

also i dont have a percy jackson taglist but i gotta tag the holy grail of fic writers for this fandon eep @cabinofimagines 🙈 🙈

Divider credit: @biskit-rising

#percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x fem!reader #annabeth #annabeth chase #leo valdez #heros of olympus #hoo #nina's 1k event #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson angst

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

If life gives you melons...

Ship: Loki x F!alt! reader

Rating: Explicit / word count 5,5k

Summary: You've heard about meet-cute, how about meet-ugly? Reader has tattoos and a tongue split. There's this joke that "bisexual alt girls go looking for a girlfriend and end up with sad, tall and skinny white bois" and boy did that hit home. Inspired by this cringy video of Hiddles [youtube link].

During a panel at a comic con, Loki notices reader and they go on a date, reader gets railed: top!Loki, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, all the good stuff. Open ending, with a bonus of reader and Loki pranking Clint.

x. I usually fancy they/them pronouns for Loki but seeing as it's a smut-shot, I decided to go along with he/him for the sake of simplicity. Loki's at least 6'4 tall and you can fight me on that. Also, I write like a Tony stan - I feel the need to apologize to Loki stans for that. I love you guys! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

The long line of people appeared to be neverending. Loki was an enhanced, as the government recently had adopted a politically correct term for Earth's non-human inhabitants, but even his enhanced endurance had begun waning due to sheer amount of people wanting a piece of memorabilia signed by The God of Mischief. Loki had gained a considerable amount of fans after doing his part in killing the mad titan Thanos and by extension, saving the world. It turned out, humankind was a sucker for a good redemption arc.

Loki's hands ached where they wrapped around the pen that he'd been using for nearly 4 hours to neatly place his name, written in neat runescript, on various pieces of merchandise that his fans (and wasn't that a strange thing!) presented to him. He used to think that he would have actually succeeded conquering the earth if he had a grasp on how to use social media and his charm; now, he just wanted the torture to end. An involuntary sigh left his mouth when he saw another print of himself in full battle gear being placed in front of him by a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Um, thank you," She stammered, giggling softly, and Loki spared her a painstaking smile, scribbling his name once again. The woman briefly caught his eyes. "Um, you're the reason- the inspiration for me. I became a stripper."

Loki blanked, feeling his eyes widen and blink on their own accord a few times. He wasn't sure if he heard the woman correctly, as the unusual statement made his brain freeze.

Loud snickering from behind the blushing woman interrupted the system error that he was experiencing in his head. It wasn't often that somebody managed to render him speechless. It looked like whoever was in line behind the stripper woman had taken advantage of that. Loki's eyes snapped to the short-haired person, who looked torn between cringing and breaking into embarrassed laughter.

The stripper left without a word, and as Loki picked up the cursed writing instrument once again, the short-haired person smiled at him kindly. "That was a little weird," They snorted, "And thanks, have a nice day Mr. Loki."

"When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic," Another woman, that appeared to be the short haired person's friend, deadpanned and gave a cynical side-eye to the departing stripper. Loki heard snickering coming from the short-haired person and quietly joined himself. The woman noticed it, winking at him as she collected the newly signed t-shirt. "Bye," She smiled kindly.

It was a split second decision, really. Something about the cheeky way she addressed the situation sparked Loki's interest. "Wait, you forgot something, darling," His baritone called out to the departing woman. She turned around, confused, and hastily grabbed the standard issue photo that he was holding out to her. With a final grateful nod, she smiled and left.

If Loki's smile had returned for the time being, none of his teammates made any remarks on it. Only his brother, Thor, gave a couple of knowing looks to the Asgardian sorcerer.

The woman in question didn't think twice about the photo that she stashed in her backpack along with the signed t-shirt. The Comic-Con had been full of people and the lines were unfairly long. The sheer exhaustion after attending a 3-day long convention had set in and she was eager to simply come home back to her apartment and crash on the nearest soft flat surface. Upon arrival, she did exactly that, flopping down gracelessly on the couch, her backpack landing next to her with a careless thud.

Unloading her trophies was a short time affair: a single white tee with a dozen signatures on it, written in what she hoped was waterproof Sharpie; one mug, shaped like an Iron Man helmet; one poster, showing Spider-Man on a picturesque NYC horizon and a signed photo of one Loki. Strangely enough, she did not remember requesting it - not that she was complaining. Free merch was free merch.

The front side wasn't signed whatsoever. Overcome by curiousity, she turned it around. A phone number was written on the back of it, the handwriting neat and the letters obviously being inked out by a thinner, more sophisticated pen than the one Loki had used for scribbling on the tee. The woman gaped silently, not believing her eyes. Did Loki himself had given her his phone number?

One margarita and a hefty helping of Chinese takeout later, the numbers persisted staring back at her mutely, the neat cursive being almost mocking in its quiet. The woman's smartphone had found a comfortable place right next to the photo, equally mum regarding the unusual situation.

An additional margarita was needed to gather the courage required to actually type out the number in the receiver box. Fruity alcoholic concoction in one hand and phone clutched in the other, the woman's eyes squeezed shut tightly as soon as the dreaded "Hey, got your number today! :)" read delivered. She'd typed and erased the message several times, groaning in embarrassment. How the hell does one approach an alien god?

"Hello! May I ask your name?" The response came after a brief moment - a moment the woman had suffered through by taking too haste sips of her drink, her common since screaming her to not overdo it and wait at least a full minute before replying. Everything felt awkward and misplaced.

In no time, she was sending the screenshots of the conversation to her girl-advice group chat that consisted of her closest friends. Chatting with Loki turned out to be surprisingly easy and he was great at upholding conversation, something that couldn't be said about all those Tinder matches she had had back in the day.

Even if using proper grammar during a text message conversation was something she had to reacquaint herself with, she was glad he wasn't just another boring, shalllow, condescending-ass white boy. Despite the cultural differences and his lack of knowledge of things like pop culture and music - something he said he was working on since New Asgard became a sovereign state on Earth - they bonded over music and tattoos and generally being rebellious against society's standarts.

The invitation to dinner didn't come as a surprise for the woman. She agreed happily, looking forward to continue their conversation outside of the internet - if Loki's part of the chat was anything to go by, not only was he charming, but also quite intelligent. And easy on the the eyes, too. They had traded selfies at some point and the Asgardian didn't look any worse in a hoodie and sweatpants than he did in his battle leathers. Loki had appeared to truly have had integrated into Earth's society.

The night of the date, the continuous text exchange did very little to calm her nerves. Loki texted as much as an overeager teenage boy: every now and then he would double-text and grossly overreact to her sending a simple meme. In fact, he smugly conveyed the fact he'd single-handedly started a meme war between the Avengers and even Steve was forced to participate; something that was, allegedly, out of character for the blonde man.

She didn't mind. Not like she had many friends to have so much fun with. Even if it took her twice the time to do her favourite eyeliner style, it was worth it. She hoped Loki would appreciate the bold, but classy make-up and the dress and shoes combo that accentuated her assets. Her date expressed curiousity about her tattoos and the difference between her preferred style and the humans he spent most time with. She guessed secret agents were not particularly fond of anything that made them memorable so she held out quite the hope for... Showing off some of her tattoos in a more private setting.

In other, simpler words, the woman came in prepared for both a friendly, leisurely stroll and a quality night. Either way, it would be a time well spent.

Loki's shiny, raven hair was impossible to miss as he towered over the rest of the people waiting by the restaurant's entrance. He wore tailored black trousers and a simple cashmere sweater, perfect for the evening's damp, cool air. Tall and lithe, Loki was mouthwateringly handsome.

"Come here often?" She wormed her way through the crowd, causing the man to smirk down at her. Her cheeks flared from the tiny gesture alone.

"Just waiting for a friend," Loki uttered lowly, extending an arm towards the woman, which she gracefully accepted as they made way towards the entrance. "Reservation for Loki," The Asgardian stated to the hostess, who, after a rapid doube-take, led them to a private, secluded area in the back of the restaurant.

Loki shouldered the slightly awkward interaction with grace, paying no mind to the girl. His focus was solely on his date and he was nothing but gallant as he took the woman's purse and held out the chair for her to comfortably sit down. As a prince, he was taught well, she mused.

"Usually I would ask 'what brings you to our little ball of water and dirt?' but I think we can skip that part," The woman stated with a sheepish grin, idly flicking through the menu and curiously eyeing the items that were unfamiliar. The desire to try something new fought with the possibility of accidentally ordering something too far out - like snails or other things that rich people fancied, for some reason.

Loki's greens briefly appeared over the top of his menu, grateful and sparkling. "I think it's best if we do just that," For a second, he looked away, before returning to the menu. "I can think of better things to discuss. I recall you didn't finish telling me about that college friend of yours, who was an anarchist... I'm dying to know..."

The waiter came and went, barely noticed by the pair, as they both poked at something that sounded the most familiar for both of them. Stoically, Loki admitted that Tony Stark did the booking for him and the woman reluctantly acquitted she wasn't very familiar with upscale establishments, being of middle-class background and working a middle-class job.

Interrupting the story she began telling hours ago, the woman took the time to point out the things she was familiar with on the menu and advised Loki to stay away from - like the aforementioned snails, and other things, slimy and salty things that she considered to be 'disgusting but rich people liked it for some reason'. The conversation slowly progressed into Loki telling her the mischief he got up to at the feasts Odin threw. The Asgardian shared the woman's disregard for influential people doing gross things to show off.

The food was good - it was really hard to miss with a traditional Italian lasagna - and seeing Loki shovel an obscene amount of food was an experience, but she didn't comment on it, tactful enough to consider his alien biology might have different dietary requirements that her human one. It was great, really, that she could order dessert and not feel guilty about it.

The gelato melted in her mouth like sweet ecstasy and she moaned with her next bite, only partly aware of how obscene really was the noise.

Loki's hand stuttered on it's way to his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared at her lips, at her mouth, where her tongue lapped up the small drops of dessert from the spoon. "Why the split tongue?" The Asgardian finally gathered his wits, having had a good look of what he was sure was a trick of the eye at first.

She grinned, acutely aware of the effect that particular body modification had on men. "I like being different. I embrace the weird." She giggled, not at all ashamed, sticking out her tongue and wiggling both parts of it teasingly.

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed; "Weird?" He raised his eyebrow, fighting to maintain his previous cool composure.

She nodded. "Weird," She retorted coyly. "I usually don't divulge the details at least until the third date. Wouldn't want to scare my potential suitors off," The playful wink was the proverbial cherry on top. He was hooked, his eyes darkened, following the plump arch of her lips as she took another spoonful of the treat and savoured it, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It was pornographic.

"Obviously, Midgardians don't know what's good for them," Loki scoffed in his usual bored monotone, fully aware of how fitful his attempt to conceal his excitement was. He sounded needy even to his own ears.

"And you do?" She pushed away the empty plate, chastely patting her mouth with a napkin. The raised eyebrow and the little smirk spoke volumes.

The grin he wore was hardly anything but feral; he asked for the waiter's assistance by flicking his wrist in an impatient fashion. Once the bill was paid and the woman's cardigan found its rightful place on her shoulders, Loki once again took hold of her arm, this time holding her smaller body against his larger one, taking care to slow down and keep his strides shorter.

She found the coolness of his presence refreshing in the moist, heavy air of the New York city.

"Where to, milady?" Loki asked her, looking down at the woman fondly.

"My place is a block away. Walk me, good sir?" She gave a delightfully easy smile in return.

He nodded, letting her lead the way, allowing himself to get a little bit lost in their shared presence, a little bubble of them in the middle of a busy city. It was as if someone had quickly turned down the volume of the honking cars and noisy pedestrians around them, leaving the soft breeze and the sun slowly descending below the skyscrapers. It felt far too short, partaking in the comfortable silence together, skin tingling under the thin layers of cloth where they were touching.

The sun was trapped in the strands of her hair as she smiled at him from her doorway, worrying her lip between her teeth. It was a bittersweet moment.

"A kiss good night for the good sir?" She asked hopefully, eyes darting between his face and his mouth.

Loki obliged, resting his palm flat on the door frame, towering over the woman as he gently slotted his thin, cool lips against her warm ones. The woman stood on her tippy toes, eager, placing a hand on his chest. The pair melted into the kiss - it had no business being this mind-blowing, brain-freezing for two people that have not met until that very day. The woman didn't refuse when Loki probed with his tongue, requesting entrance to her mouth; she licked into his own with fervor, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of his sweater.

With the hand that was free, Loki pulled the woman flush with himself, feeling the heat of her start a fire of its own inside of him. Her breathing rapid, the gesture only served to tighten her hold on his sweater, until a soft, barely audible moan slipped into his mouth, causing his brain to quickly reassess the situation.

Regretfully, Loki pulled away, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," He meaningfully looked at the array of doors around them.

"I thought you'd never ask," She retorted with a fond eyeroll, tightening the grip on his sweater once more, to pull him inside her apartment and shut the door behind her. The awkward moments were few and in between; neither knew who reached for the other first, mashing their mouths with less grace than before, clutching at the other's arms and hips with hunger.

This time, Loki didn't hold back his own muted groans of satisfaction, shivering when the woman's hands snuck under his sweater and the simple tank top he wore underneath. Blunt nails scraped along his abs.

Step by step, she pushed him further inside her apartment, determined in her small quick strides. There was no mistake of their destination; no mistake in her desire: she was as hungry and as impatient as him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, long arms extending to unzip the top of her dress to reveal a simple but tasteful black lacy bra covering her breasts. The woman barely noticed the action, stepping out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor.

He admired her. Inches of soft skin covered by intricate ink, some patterns bizarre and complicated, some beautiful in their simplicity. Loki couldn't wait to find out about the meaning behind every one of them, to trace the lines with his tongue and sink his teeth into the heated flesh.

The hands that were holding onto him for dear life tugged on his sweater and he chose to simply vanish it, too preoccupied with looking at the view in front of him. She gasped and her eyes met his: uncanny, magnetic emeralds shone with magic and power and desire.

"Fuck," She more mouthed than said, walking backwards in a trance until her shins hit the bed.

Loki grinned, advancing on the panting woman with the grace of a predator. "Darling?" His tone was innocent; his expression was anything but. His large hand encompassesed the side of her face, thumb running over her bottom lip in a possessive gesture that had her squirming in her place. He loved the way she just melted into his touch.

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was once again graceful and unrushed, allowing them to explore the softness of each other's skin, mapping the arches and valleys with gentle strokes of their palms. The broad expanse of Loki's back was uneven, riddled with scars and blemishes, and she mapped every single one, blunt nails raking down it as she pressed into him, arching into his hands where he held her.

The soft flesh of her ass, barely covered by a scrap of black lace, was shamelessly grabbed - the woman didn't doubt there would be marks left - letting her feel his arousal pressed against her belly, hard and twitching. She didn't resist her desire to ge handsy and palmed it, taking note of the gasp and the twitch coming from the man occupied with the clasp of her bra. In no time, it flew away, forgotten somwhere the very moment Loki's palms took over her breasts, running a careful thumb over each nipple.

"Fuck," She parroted her previous statement, equally breathy and considerably more aroused.

"That's the plan," Loki's chuckle was hoarse.

She huffed, biting her bottom lip before reaching out to swiftly pop the button of his trousers, smirking at the hiss the friction of her palm produced against his cock. It shouldn't have surprised her that Loki was a commando kind of guy, but still, she gasped, partially from the ministrations of his clever fingers, partially from the mouthwatering sight in front of her. The thick, flushed length made saliva gather in the corners of her mouth.

He must've heard the audible swallow. "Not so haste, darling," He tutted, giving her relaxed body a gentle push, causing her to land on her back, heated skin against the soft duvet of her bed. "Let me taste you," A thud; Loki had dropped to his knees, using his large palms to spread her legs, opening her up to his eyes.

If his previous work hadn't made her so pliant, so aroused, she'd have been rendered speechless; instead, the woman arched her back, presenting herself and the desire that had pooled down below. The Asgardian chuckled, fingertips soft against the scratchy lace.

"Tease," The woman moaned, outstretching her arm to guide him but quite unable to reach him. She had to settle for squirming in her place, receiving a fraction of the desired traction against her swollen lips.

"Am I, love?" Loki asked her sweetly, caving enough to dip a single finger to run along the outside of her slit. It glided easily thanks to all the moisture gathered there, lips parting easily before his touch. The panties were vanished away promptly, another finger joining in immediately to rub slow, precise circles around her clit.

She keened low and long, fisting the fabric in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Loki knew what he was doing. It didn't take him very long to slide his long digits to the welcoming heat of her opening, dipping them inside until she began to make the noises he so craved. His mouth followed after that, long agile tongue drawing senseless shapes on the inside of her labia and dipping deeper, where her clit stood out engorged and slick.

He could smell the bittersweet of her arousal, mouthwatering and hot.

"Loki, fuck," She moaned, only half-coherent and partially aware of her own hips following his every stroke, every flick. He only advanced, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every stroke; the sparks traveling up her spine quickened with each time she changed his name like a prayer. "Loki, Loki, Loki..."

He growled, attaching his mouth firmly to her clit, and she arched for the final time, coming undone, squeezing around his fingers and gushing in his mouth, the obscene sounds covered by her own scream of delight and his impatient growling. The growling that sent shivers of aftershocks throughout her body.

"Darling, you taste so sweet," Loki groaned, still panting.

She took the time to open her eyes: Loki looked comically out of place in her bedroom, he dwarfed her bed and made her feel small, but it didn't matter at all at that very moment. His erection stood out hard and proud; despite the leg-shaking orgasm just moments ago, she wanted more, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to feel him inside-

With unsurprising agility, one swift motion was all it took for her to rest comfortably against the pillows, his throbbing member resting against the juncture of her thigh. She tasted her own release on his lips, however brief, whispering a weak, "Please," aching to feel the emptiness.

"As my lady wishes," Loki's cool breath ghosted over her cheek. She waited with baited breath until the tip of his manhood breached her, exhaling a moan into his neck and immediately wrapping her lips around a patch of skin as he stretched her so sweet.

Loki's arms shook slightly as he waited for her to adjust. He kissed her, soft and sweet; there was something vulnerable in him, something as sweet as the ache he'd taken away. Once he began to move, slow and fluid, all there was left was an all-consuming need to feel. As graceful as dancer and with a deadly precision, Loki pounded gasps, moans and screams out of the woman's slack mouth, kisses turning hungrier and sloppier by the second.

"So sweet," He cooed, relishing in the snug grip of her cunt around him.

She only keened in approval, too far gone and unused to the intensity of the feelings from a man with centuries of practice and the power of a god.

His thrusts slowed gradually until he was rutting into her, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit. The gasps and screams turned into drawn-out, longing moans; her hips followed his, meeting in a slow, sensual motion.

Loki was not a patient man. He withdrew - she gasped in protest - flipping the woman over on her fours with ease, taking but a split second to admire the curve of her body presented on display for him. Just for him.

With that thought burning in his mind, Loki sheathed his cock deeply inside her spasming cunt. It was nearly unbearably stimulating and only his own desire to prolong the bliss held back his own impending orgasm. That, and his own ego; he was naught if not a generous lover.

She slurred something, quiet and incorrigible, fucking back onto his cock as eagerly as he was plunging into her heat. The hand he'd placed on her shoulder promptly wrapped around her throat in hopes of lifting her close enough for him to hear the words but instead, it sent a full-bodied shiver throughout her. Loki grinned, tugging her that much closer.

The arch in her back looked quite uncomfortable yet she didn't mind; it was the exact opposite, in fact, her cunt tightened around him, drenching his shaft down to his balls. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his thigh, the sting of pain going straight to his cock-

"Loki, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" She slurred, gasping for air.

He weakened his hold on her throat enough to let her gulp the so-needed oxygen. It was her undoing: was it the rapid pace of oxygenated blood traveling to her brain or was it his cock, mercilessly pounding against her g-spot - she was violently spasming around his cock, much like she did around his fingers not too long ago.

It felt like ages, her crescendo coming in waves with no signs of stopping any time soon. Loki's continuous thrusts, his hips slamming into hers, her skin feeling like molten lava.

"Gonna fill your sweet cunt with my seed," Loki moaned lowly, holding her up by the throat, the other hand leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the outside of her hips. "Mark you from the inside out," His voice had gone into primal territory, growling filling up the room.

"Please..." The woman rasped, oversensitive.

And he pleased, with a series of sharp thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt in her, the force of his release making her shudder and moan once against, going limp in his arms. Loki kept her in her place until every drop was inside of her cunt. Nothing was sweeter than that.

The Asgardian didn't bother with getting under the covers to hold her, conjuring a soft, comfortable throw in modest green, to cover their nudity. He didn't need the extra warmth but his companion was by far more fragile and sensitive to these things- Loki's fingertips traced the array of bruises he'd left in the wake of their passion, expression surprised as he found the woman smiling.

"Feels nice," She supplied meekly, eyes half-lidded, face trusting and open towards him.

He gave a small grin in return, placing a chaste kiss atop her head. "Yes, it does, darling."

Time after time, she didn't expect much out if their date. The sex was nice, nice enough for both of them to want seconds and thirds after their rushed first time - but it wasn't like she expected him to hand around. It was a pleasant change from the usual mutual ghosting she'd done with her previous partners, but Loki had texted again and they had resumed their conversation via text like nothing had happened.

No, that would be incorrect. Now, she had a wonderful friend who was a great conversationalist and an even better lover. There was no pressure to put a label on their relationship so the woman didn't bother with it; it didn't seem like Loki cared about the label, either, so she left the topic alone and enjoyed things the way they were. It wasn't like she had a line of suitors anyway.

She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face when she unlocked her phone and saw a video call request from other than Loki himself. She still had thirty minutes worth of lunch break to waste and this was a wonderful time to chat with a friend.

"Stark, hand it back or I swear to Norns-" Loki's voice sounded agitated and far away, accompanied by sounds of a struggle; the bearded, smug face on the screen was not who she expected at all. Only years of customer service and low bullshit tolerance combined stopped her from freaking out seeing none other than Tony Stark smirking at her from the screen of her phone.

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow, taking note of the anger of Loki's tone.

"Hi, I don't think I need to introduce myself," Stark babbled, eyeing her - disheveled and with a wall full of sticky notes and miscellaneous items acting as the background to her video. "Reindeer games refused to show you to us so we decided to persuade him," Tony's grin grew wider, muted whispers being rapidly exchanged in the background all the while Loki screeched "BROTHER!" and various expletives at the top of his lungs.

"You could've, I dunno," She paused, unimpressed. "Asked me to dinner, like a normal person. Instead of stealing, you know, like a thief," The eyeroll that she performed had the team worried her eyes would fall out of their sockets.

"I merely borrowed his phone, don't be dramatic," Stark huffed, and for a moment, she could see various other people trying to look at the screen and by extension, at her. "So, what is it that you do? Because Smurf over there wouldn't..."

"Oops, bad signal. Sorry, can't hear you properly," Her side of the call suddenly shook and in a moment, she ended the call, not at all willing to deal with people that lacked boundaries. Sure, it might have been Iron Man, but if he was planning on being a snooping asshole, she wasn't gonna go down with that easily.

Exactly five minutes after she had clocked out, an incoming call from Loki had her equal parts excited and mortified. What if..? But he was apologetic. And very angry, swearing in his native language - something that he'd promised to teach her at some point.

"So, Clint did it?" She sipped her beverage, strolling home with the phone pressed snugly against her ear.

"Most of it was his fault, yes," Loki grouched on the other end of the call.

"I vote we get back at him. Invite me over, if he's so inclined to see me, and watch him get humiliated in front of everybody," It wasn't a secret she had her own mischievous tendencies.

"As much as I appreciate your vigour, darling, I doubt the Widow will appreciate you verbally castrating the Hawk in public," He replied sourly, his voice still betraying the faint notes of interest.

"I have a backup plan!" She stated without a hitch. "He'll embarrass himself and I'll be your alibi."

"I'm listening," Loki perked up immediately.

They decided to not to stall and schedule the 'family dinner', as Thor himself dubbed it, for the next available weekend. Loki had made sure Tony's AI had been made aware the trickster would be gone all day, and it took him very little magic and effort to pop in and out of the tower for the five minutes that were needed to execute their prank.

His friend barely managed to keep the snickering at bay as they ascended the elevator to the common floor where the dinner was being held. Not only that, but the woman spouted an area of dark purple love marks, barely obscured by the low turtleneck of her blouse.

She made her introductions and they made theirs. "This affair could use some background noise," She remarked off-handedly, casting a meaningful glance at the TV.

Tony Stark was known for being a great host so he entertained her wishes, flicking on the huge flat screen with a flick of his wrist.

The team froze.

"I... -" The woman stared at the screen, mouth hanging wide open at the scenes that played out. "... am not going to kinkshame, but please turn it off," She stated in a small voice, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of tentacles commencing erotic assault on a woman's body.

Wordlessly, the TV shut down, immersing the room in stunned silence. Loki face-palmed, the slap of his palm against his face echoing in the eerily quiet room.

"Loki!" Captain America, red as a tomato, instantly accused the most obvious person.

Except, he had forgotten one thing. "Loki was with me all day," The woman replied, unkindly. "Do you need more proof?" She tugged on the hem of her turtleneck, exposing an inch of skin marked blue.

The good Captain's face changed the shade once again, venturing very well into beetroot territory. "Who was the last one to use the TV?" Rogers asked, now with a hint of anger, as he stared at a guffawing Bucky.

"I believe it was Mr. Barton," The AI piped up, mechanical voice sounding almost insinuating. Or, perhaps, it just appeared that way.

#loki x reader #Loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston #it's 4am y'all #we be THIRSTY

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 17)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4359 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I know you’re excited for the wedding but we’re not quite there yet. Although I think you’ll be happy about this... mostly. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 16 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Somehow it was decided that this was a good idea, that Coney Island wouldn’t be so bad on Memorial Day weekend. You were very wrong.

Everyone had the same idea, filling the subways until they were packed as you made the long trip to Brooklyn. What should have taken just over an hour became closer to two because of overcrowding. It was hard to guarantee that eight people would make it onto the same train with all the pushing and shoving of people ensuring that they made it inside before the doors shut.

By the time you arrived everyone was hungry and the mass of people covering the large Boardwalk only added to the frustration you were all feeling. Clint, Steve, Peggy and Bucky wanted Nathan’s hot dogs while you, Natasha and Wanda didn’t. You decided to split up, going down the Boardwalk to another place that was just as crowded but offered something for each of you.

“There’s no place to sit,” Natasha said, looking around as she held a lobster roll in one hand and a beer in the other.

“Ooh, over there,” you said, pointing to a bench across the Boardwalk that was quickly taken before you had the chance to take even one step towards it.

There were a few high top tables that you could stand up in front of so you quickly ran over to an open one before someone else could. Natasha lined up her food on the table, getting the restaurant’s name in the background as she took a picture.

“Clint just texted me. They’re finally about to order.”

“About time,” Wanda said, taking a bite of her sausage and pepper roll. She nudged over her container of fries towards you and Natasha, silently offering them.

“They’re asking if we should meet up with them by the Wonder Wheel.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said while chewing, covering your mouth so pieces of your cheeseburger didn’t spit out.

Despite the crowds this brief moment felt nice, feeling the breeze from the ocean and the warm sun heating your skin. Memorial Day weekend was the unofficial start of summer and that meant you could finally begin your countdown to graduation. You had three months more to go before you would finally reach your goal and it was… scary. Scary and exciting at the same time but you couldn’t wait for that day.

“So Saturday’s the big wedding huh?” Natasha smirked.

You raised your eyebrow, not giving in to the way she looked at you. “Yes it is but we’re getting there Friday and before you say anything our hotel has two beds, okay? Two of them.” you said, sticking two fingers in front of her face.

Natasha mumbled something under her breath that you didn’t bother to decipher. Nothing was going to happen. A little dancing, a little awkward conversation with people you don’t know and that’s it.

“Horses?” Wanda asked you, tilting her head up so you could get a glimpse. Natasha looked confused but held her tongue.

Music filled your ears as you passed a group of people gathered on the Boardwalk watching others dance. It was nice to see everyone let go and enjoy the sunshine.

Wanda kissed Sam as soon as the groups joined up again in contrast to Natasha. “I don’t like hot dog breath,” she said, looking into her bag for gum or a mint to give Clint.

Making a face she didn’t see, he mockingly signed back Natasha’s words making you laugh since you understood him. Bucky held his left palm up, sliding the middle finger of his right hand over it. To your shock you realized he just signed back “rude” to Clint.

Turning towards him you asked, “When did you learn ASL?”

“When someone told me our neighbor signs.” He smiled widely and you suddenly felt light enough for the breeze to carry you away. “C’mon,” Bucky said, nudging his head for you to start walking with the group.

He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap, which was the only difference between your outfits today as Sam pointed out. You and Bucky were basically matching and he thought it was cute that you coordinated even though it wasn’t planned.

You both wore crisp white t-shirts, jeans (though yours were shorts), and converse sneakers. Arguing that you were wearing red sneakers unlike Bucky’s black ones made no difference, everyone still thought it was a very “coupley” thing to do.

As you walked towards the Wonder Wheel you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky's arms. They had gotten much bigger ever since he started working out with Sam and Steve and those muscles definitely stood out now; tanned skin with a prominent vein running down his arm you couldn’t take your eyes off of.

“Swinging cars? Oh no. I’m good,” Sam said as you approached the line.

“Me too. I’ve got a belly full of hot dogs so I’d rather not,” Clint added.

The group split with Sam, Wanda, Clint and Natasha getting in line for the stationary cars as you, Bucky, Peggy and Steve waited for the swinging ones. When it was time to load into your car there were two benches facing forward. Steve and Peggy took the front one and you guys were in the back. Bucky let you enter first and you sat down quickly so the attendant could close the door, adjusting your bag between your legs on the floor.

Steve turned his head around, smiling at you in a way that made you furrow your brows at him but your unspoken communication was interrupted as the ferris wheel began moving backwards. He faced forward again, reaching his arm around Peggy in the cramped space.

The car stopped suddenly but above you was the shadow of another cart and the sounds of screams as it rocked along its own track. Everybody on the stationary cars were missing out, this was going to be fun.

Half a minute went by before the ferris wheel moved again, this time stopping at a point where your car was able to roll forward. You expected the jolt but it didn’t mean you were prepared for it and somehow you found yourself grabbing Bucky by the shoulder as you screamed with laughter as the cart swung back and forth. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he wished you kept your hand on him the whole time.

He envied Steve holding Peggy close. When the car reached the top he watched them kiss, a small peck to show affection and Bucky was undeniably jealous. Steve had met the perfect girl in Peggy, and Bucky felt the same way about a certain person sitting next to him.

You only accepted his request to be his wedding date because he begged, he’s sure of that. It was so pathetic for him to plead but he really wanted you to go with him, and shamefully, since he knew you had sworn off dating, this was the closest thing he would ever get.

His profile was still up on the apps, and occasionally he would make plans to meet someone. The closer the wedding got, the less frequent it’s been. He’s not proud of the fact that he’s made dates and cancelled them. He tried his best to remember to cancel in advance but sometimes he would forget, becoming lost in the music he was creating, only to find a few messages with choice language he rightfully deserved from the people he didn’t mean to stand up.

Bucky wasn’t interested in any of them, only one person was always on his mind and yet he knew he would have to let that go. Going to the wedding together isn’t going to help his feelings but he hopes by some strange logic he can allow his heart to live out whatever fantasy is not coming true and then let you go.

“You wanna hit the beach now?” Sam asked, once you all got off the Wonder Wheel.

“Yeah, Nat says my ass is pasty,” Clint replied.

Natasha’s nostrils flared as her eyes widened in shock. “You are not tanning your pasty ass on this public beach Clint!”

Laughter rang out and Clint leaned in to peck a kiss to Natasha’s full lips which relaxed her tense expression. Despite all their teasing they loved each other deeply and it made your heart ache, longing to have a love like theirs.

The crowds on the beach hadn’t let up, not that anyone expected them to. Umbrellas of every color of the rainbow were spread out across the sand and it didn’t look like there was even a spot for all of you to fit among the crowd but that didn’t stop anyone.

Your sneakers crunched on the sand scattered along the wood planks by the entrance, grabbing the hot metal railing to pull them off before you walked down onto the beach. Bucky followed suit, holding his sneakers in hand while everyone else left on their flip flops or slip-on.

The sand was burning hot against your soles that also battled against sharp seashells as you trudged your way to a spot, following behind the group. Clint’s impeccable vision pointed out a spot big enough for all of you and rushed over there staking a claim.

Steve shrugged his shoulder down to let the heavy bag he was carrying for Peggy go. She had packed a large bag with towels, sunscreen and a few collapsible umbrellas. Sam helped Steve by setting up the umbrellas as everyone else worked to set their towels down.

Pulling out a large towel you placed your sneakers inside your tote bag, holding it open for Bucky in case he wanted to protect his from the sand as well.

“Hey where’s your stuff?” you wondered out loud as he placed his sneakers inside.

Bucky clenched his teeth together making an adorable face that told you your answer before he gave it. “When you said we were going to Coney Island I didn’t think you meant the actual beach. I figured food and drinks...” he trailed off, still awkwardly grimacing.

“It’s okay. You can share mine,” you offered. Turning away to unravel the towel, you missed the soft smile that settled on his face at the prospect of being close to you.

Bucky helped smooth out the towel, a pretty teal with gold pineapples printed across the fabric. He let a small huff out under his breath, disappointed by the fact that your towel was bigger than he expected and he didn’t have an excuse to be as close as he hoped. The feeling passed just as quickly as Bucky realized how stupid his thoughts were; you were only offering him the towel, it was not an invitation for anything else.

His mental chastising paused from the moment your hands hooked on the waist of your shorts, pulling them down to reveal a bikini. A sexy snakeskin pattern in a mix of steel blue, black with speckles of white that hugged you like a second skin.

Bucky’s mouth fell open as you pulled off your shirt, revealing the matching top and he had to force his gaze away. His cheeks felt hot and with the shade of the umbrella he’s not sure he could use the sun as an excuse for his bright red face.

Sam caught the interaction, raising an eyebrow to Wanda as his mouth pulled into a deep smirk.

“Hey Bucky!” The sound of Sam’s unexpected voice startled Bucky, making him jump slightly as he whipped his head towards him. “What are you wearing man? Jeans? I hope you don’t have a speedo under them.”

Everyone laughed though the sound of your giggling made Bucky ripen like a tomato. With a shaky voice he dismissed Sam’s claim, wishing he had thought this day through and worn board shorts like everyone else.

“You’re not beach ready!” Sam said, crossing his broad, sculpted arms over his chest.

Frustrated by the sound of another innocent giggle that fell from your lips, Bucky pulled off his shirt tossing it aside. “Happy? I’m beach ready!”

The breath was pulled from your lungs leaving you unable to speak, think or do anything other than stare at Bucky. Your eyes scanned his muscular body up and down, as if he had been sculpted by the gods himself.

Your hands longed to touch every ab that was carved into his stomach and when your gaze continued lower you thought you might go feral. The deep cuts on his hips had your mouth watering and without realizing it your tongue had swept across your lips. It wasn’t until Bucky moved to sit down that your focus was broken.

“You look great,” you stated, clearing the nerves away from your throat. Bucky shrugged it off with a modest half smile, unable to fully embrace the compliment coming from you. “No really, I’m actually jealous. How the fuck do you have that body with all the pizza we’ve been eating?”

Your question made him laugh, wrinkling his nose as the smile spread across his face. The tension had eased although you were very aware of Bucky as you laid on the towel, trying not to stare at him like he was a piece of meat and you hadn’t eaten in weeks.

As Sam spoke about an ER case you were happily distracted, even though you were tempted to ogle Bucky every time he shifted beside you, cringing at the gory details. The hours passed quickly as you laid out, relaxing or talking with Peggy as Natasha, Wanda and Sam went into the water. Bucky sat beside Steve and Clint, the three of them laughing at their conversation.

Peggy spoke in a low whisper, “After the way you looked at him today I don’t think you can fool yourself much longer.”

You didn’t respond because there wasn’t much to say. Peggy saw the look in your eyes, the admission of what you both knew was true and the fear that came along with having feelings for him, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Anyone want food? I’m gonna get more hot dogs,” Clint said, wiping sand from the back of his shorts as he stood up.

Both your heads shook and he left just as Natasha was coming back. She pulled out another towel to wrap around herself, “He’s getting food?” she asked despite knowing the answer.

Wanda and Sam returned hand in hand, drying off in the still very warm sun and asking about what everyone wanted to do afterwards.

“I’ve never been on the Cyclone before,” Peggy said, looking at Steve as they both silently recalled the story he told her about throwing up after going on it as a kid.

By the time Clint returned he had already eaten the hot dogs he bought, feigning shock to see everyone packing up. Bucky put his shirt back on, slightly wrinkled from the way he tossed it into your bag, and he caught your gaze as you were slipping on your shorts.

He looked away, lifting the towel and shaking the sand off of it. You helped him fold it up to place back in your bag and Bucky kindly removed both pairs of sneakers to avoid an uncomfortable mess.

When you made it to the Boardwalk you leaned against the railing, wiping sand from the bottom of your feet before putting on your shoes. Bucky did the same though he could still feel grains of uncomfortable sand in his socks.

Natasha and Wanda needed to change so you followed them to the bathroom to use it as everyone else waited. By the time you reached the Cyclone you were paired off to sit with Bucky again, not that you minded.

“Hold up,” Sam began, lifting his hand towards Clint, “You’re okay to ride a rollercoaster after eating but not the swinging ferris wheel?”

Clint nodded as he shrugged in response, not knowing how to explain why. Sam rolled his eyes, sharing a confused look with Wanda. They made sure to sit in the back to be far enough behind Clint, just in case.

You and Bucky were cramped together in the padded leather seats of the historic coaster; packed in like sardines and secured even tighter as the lap bar came down.

“It’s squishing my thighs,” Bucky winced, laughing as the ride began; a sharp right turn before the rickety chain began pulling the car up the hill.

Your hands were both in the air as you went down the first drop but quickly you dropped them, holding on to the padded lap bar because despite having no room to move every forceful turn had you pushing against each other.

Screams were present throughout the ride as the coaster went down steep hills and hard turns and in the end you turned towards Bucky, laughing in the pit of your stomach as you saw his hair, loose and wildly covering his face.

He combed through it with his fingers, taming it as best as he could before trying to get himself out of the seat. Once he was free he held a hand out for you to take and that’s when you felt the ache in your thighs. You hissed as you rubbed them, feeling how sore they were from the rough ride.

“Maybe Bucky could rub them for you,” Natasha whispered in your ear as she passed by, laughing, hand in hand with Clint who, defying all laws, did not throw up.

You rolled your eyes and continued to walk, a little painfully as you were still feeling the dull throb from your legs. Passing a few carnival games Steve and Sam eyed each other, their friendly competitive nature carried over from their workouts to now see who could win the bigger prize for their girl.

“Sam, I’m serious, I don’t want a giant teddy bear,” Wanda insisted but Sam couldn’t hear her.

His focus was on the best spot to aim to knock over the six tin cans. He licked his lips, a confident smile spreading across his face. Winding his arm back he let go, leaving all but one can standing.

“Let me show you how it’s done Sammy,” Steve said with swagger, as he paid for his game.

Peggy and Wanda shared a look as she also expressed no interest in a four foot bear. “Honestly, my apartment is small. I can’t have a massive bear taking up space.”

Thankfully Steve’s aim was no better, leaving two cans standing.

“Oh look at that. All those muscles and you can’t knock down more cans than me. Looks like I should be the Captain now,” Sam snickered.

You and Bucky opted for a much more friendly competition playing alongside Clint and Natasha in the water gun game. The four of you sat down on the padded stools, paying for your game and waiting for the round to begin as more people joined. Beside you a small child sat on his knees on the stool, as his mother held onto him and told him what to aim for.

Grabbing the gun you tried to position it towards the target in advance, ignoring Bucky’s comments about how he has the aim of a sniper so he always wins. At the sound of the bell the water turned on and you were an inch off from the center of the target, quickly adjusting and hoping there was some chance you could still win. The prize didn’t matter, but bragging rights certainly did.

“Number eight’s a winner!” the employee resounded.

To your left you saw Bucky’s wide “I told you so” smile, written across his face that now glowed with the flashing blue light above his winning station. Another sound made you turn your head though, the kid next to you that burst out into tears after losing. Your gaze softened as you watched his mother try to comfort him as the employee asked Bucky what color dinosaur plush he would like as his prize.

“Hey buddy,” Bucky said, ignoring the employee for a moment as he knelt down beside the crying child. “Which color’s your favorite?”

With a few sniffles he lifted his head up, tiny curled hands wiping away his tears as he asked for the purple dinosaur. Bucky proudly handed over the plush toy to the now smiling kid, accepting his mother’s thanks as they walked away.

Your heart was swelling with warmth and when Bucky turned around he was met with a soft smile you couldn’t hide. He turned away smiling, trying to hide the dusting of pink he felt forming on his cheeks.

With everyone feeling a little hungry now you followed Steve who knew about a good place a few blocks away. Walking beside Bucky your fingers brushed against his every so lightly making goosebumps ripple up your arm. You wanted to take his hand, lace your fingers together as a small sign to let him know how you felt but you were too scared.

Steve brought you to a small Mexican place that had an enclosed patio, with good music blasting and brightly colored margaritas that everyone around you seemed to have. The guys pushed two circular tables together so you could all sit, looking over the menu of food which you were hungry for but more importantly drinks that you hoped would give you the courage to grab Bucky’s hand.

Your table was with the girls though Bucky was still beside you, squeezing into the other table next to Steve.

“Mmmm nachos, and ohh tacos… I feel like I haven’t eaten in forever. I want them all,” you joked, reading over the menu.

With food on the table and a strawberry margarita in hand you felt great. Today may have been hot and crowded but it was a perfect day spent with your friends.

Natasha stood up, trying to angle a selfie with everyone in it meaning you had to lean back towards Bucky and after your drink you were a little looser, tipping your head backwards to smile at him. Bucky laughed, smiling back at you before Natasha said she was ready.

Bucky moved in closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, his long hair tickled your neck which made you giggle just as Natasha took the picture. He lingered there for longer than he should have before he sat up straight, ignoring the way Sam looked at him.

Somehow everything felt right. Tonight was the night you were going to let Bucky know how you felt. Your hand slowly inched closer to Bucky’s, reaching out for his left hand resting on his thigh. All you had to do was touch it, a light caress by your fingers, just enough to let him know there’s something you want to say without saying it yet.

“Bucky!”

The high pitched voice of a woman calling out to him made your arm jerk back into the safety of your lap.

Bucky turned to see a woman he unfortunately recognized. Whitney, a bartender he had gone on a date with two months ago and ghosted afterwards. She was nice but there weren’t any sparks. He slept with her anyway, regretfully.

With her head cocked to the side and hands on her hips she smirked as she replied. “You were supposed to text me back!”

“Yeah, sorry about that…” Bucky lied.

“That’s not very nice.” She pouted, playfully swatting at his chest. “And after that night we had!”

Bucky forced a tight smile as he looked past her in the hope that she had friends waiting for her. Whitney continued to flirt, at least that’s what Bucky thought by the sound of her voice, the way she purred her words to him even though he wasn’t paying any attention.

Relief flashed in his eyes when another girl stumbled her way towards them, lacing her arm through Whitney’s to pull her away. Bucky had never been happier to see a drunken mess, because this one was saving him from dealing with her.

“Text me sometime, okay Bucky?” Whitney cooed.

“Uh yeah yeah, sure. It was nice seeing you.” Bucky responded quickly, barely hearing what she had even said.

Before he could turn to sit back down Whitney grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips against his. You turned away, finding solace in your drink, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Bucky contemplated if wiping his lips would be too childish even if it’s what he honestly felt like doing. He sat down again, embarrassed that everyone had to witness that.

“So…” Sam began, breaking the ice, “Another hook up huh?”

“What? No. I… No that’s nothing going to happen. Not with her.”

Sam scoffed. “Oh so some other girl then? Have you ever tried actually dating one person?”

Steve blinked a few times at Sam’s candid question even if he agreed with the sentiment. After all this time he still didn’t understand why Bucky was so averse to dating.

“It’s just that…” Bucky started before he let out a grunting sigh.

From the corner of his eye Bucky saw your head turn ever so slightly to listen in. His cheeks began to match your margarita and he knew he couldn’t answer Steve honestly, not when he wanted to have this conversation with you in private. He hates the reputation he’s built up for himself, desperately wanting to be the great boyfriend you once thought he could be.

Bucky shrugged off the question, taking a sip of his drink instead. When his glass hits the table he looks towards you and your eyes meet for a second. His smile seems fake and you know why. He’s holding back from answering the truth because you know he probably wants to have an explicit conversation about all the girls he’s fucked, bragging about every dirty detail to the guys but he can’t because you’re there.

The rest of the night was a blur as all you could think about was how to let go of your feelings because you could never be in a relationship with Bucky.

PART 18

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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