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fredweesleyismyslut · 4 years

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Just a Kiss part 2 - Draco Malfoy x Reader

A/N: Hey guys! This took me quite a bit to write because I had writers block and I literally rewrote it like three times and I like this one the best, so hopefully you guys do too! Anyways, thank you so much for liking the first one. Also, really random but I’m so excited for Christmas not just for presents but me and my friend have planned a Harry Potter marathon together for Christmas and I’m so excited to rewatch all the movies and we’re making snacks as well, so I’m so excited ahhhhh! Hehe anyways, hope you guys enjoy and stay healthy! Love you, forehead kisses mwah.

Arriving at the Malfoy manor you gaped in awe, staring at the house as you walked in. “Wow, it’s been forever since I’ve been here. Every time it feels bigger.” Draco chuckled softly as he walked ahead to open the door for you. Lucious walked in first as Narcissa came from the side of the room, having just walked down the flight of stairs. “Y/n, I’ve been waiting for you. I had dinner prepared and your room. I hope you like everything.” You smiled, going in for a hug, as you noticed the dinner table filled with food, “Wow, I think you prepared a feast, not a dinner. I’m about to not fit into my pants tomorrow.” Narcissa let out a soft laugh as she smiled down at you, “I wasn’t sure what you liked.” “Oh, don’t worry Mrs. Malfoy I’ll love everything. Thank you so much for the dinner and for letting me intrude on your Christmas.” She smiled again, moving the hair away from your face, “Thank you for coming, I’m sure Draco will enjoy your company around here.” You looked over at Draco, meeting his eyes as you quickly looked away, “Yeah…” you said softly, as Narcissa looked over at Draco. “Why don’t you show her to her room, darling so she can set her bags down.” Draco nodded, leading the way as he grabbed your bags from you. “No it’s..” you tried to protest, “I’m sure they’re quite heavy. I can get one of them at least.” Draco shook his head, “I’m not a scoundrel. Besides they’re not heavy.” he answered, as he easily lifted both bags up as he walked up the stairs. “Okayyy, pack it up Hercules.” you murmured under your breath as you followed. Leading you to a room at the end of the hall Draco set your bags down, “My mother had the room decorated.” he said, motioning at the white frills on the bed and princess drapes hanging from them. “Wow, ummm well just wow. It’s gorgeous.” He smirked softly as he walked to the edge of the room, “You can go ahead and change into something more comfortable, we’re having dinner soon.” He closed the door behind him, as you heard soft footsteps reside down the hallway. Changing into a set of pajamas you walked down the stairs, sitting at the full dinner table. You were sat next to Draco, heart pounding softly as you glanced to your left. You could see his soft cheekbones lead down to his jawline, skin pale as...you looked away quickly, noticing his icy blue eyes turn towards you. Staring down at your food you tried to calm your breath, as Narcissa spoke up, “Do you two have any classes together?” You looked up at her, “Well, we have potions together, nothing else really.” She nodded, as she continued, “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re really a grown woman now.” She glanced between you and Draco softly, almost unnoticeable as she smiled softly. “Well, I’m quite full. I’ll see you two in the morning.” You nodded as Lucious excused himself from the table as well, “Thank you again for the dinner.” you said, quickly as they walked up the flight of stairs. You sat awkwardly for a few moments staring at your empty plate before you started to gather the plates together. “What are you doing?” Draco asked as he watched you gather the plates together. “Ummmm cleaning?” “That’s what the house elves are for isn’t it,” Draco stated matter of factly. “Well, it’ll make the job easier for them if I at least get the plates gathered.” You retorted, trying to keep from losing your temper at his rudeness. Draco seemed truly confused as he looked up at you before he stood up as well, “It’s their job isn’t it?” he asked, as he grabbed your wrist to stop you. Pulling your wrist from him you huffed, “That doesn’t mean you have to be a dick about it, Malfoy. If you’re not going to help then go away.” Draco stood for a few seconds before he went to the other side, gathering the rest of the plates before he quietly walked off. “What a prick,” you muttered under your breath.

Later that night you awoke in the middle of the night, a soft pressure gathering on your bladder as you laid in bed. Groaning, you tried to ignore the feeling not wanting to leave the comfortable position you had made for yourself. Finally not being able to handle it you sighed as you got out of bed, walking out of the room to go to the bathroom. After relieving your bladder, you sighed in content, “Finally I can sleep again.” you murmured softly, quietly padding your feet down the hallway till you heard a muffled sniffle from downstairs. You silently gathered yourself, as you walked halfway down, just enough so you could take a peek. As you peeked around the corner you saw Draco, sitting near the fireplace with red, swollen eyes. You heard one phrase leave his mouth, “I can’t do this anymore.” You wondered if you should move closer, feet faltering as you decided to go back to your room. The staircase creaked softly under the weight of your foot as you quickly stopped, frozen in place as you thought, Of course, it fucking creaks now. Just my luck isn’t it? “Who’s there?” said Draco’s muffled voice, a slight strain in it. Heart dropping, your stomach clenched as you peeked around the corner again, “Just me….I was just ummm thirsty haha. I’m not anymore though so…” He glared softly, as he replied, “Go ahead and get your water.” Gulping softly, feeling as if there were rocks in your throat you nodded walking towards the kitchen to prepare a glass of water. Footsteps pounded softly behind you as a hand put itself in front of you on the counter, “Don’t even think about speaking a word of this, y/l/n.” His breath tickled your neck slightly as you nodded heart thumping as you waited for his footsteps to retreat, as you finally released the breath you didn’t know you had been holding. The next day was just as awkward if not more as you avoided eye contact with Draco all day, scared to speak of last night. In the middle of the night, you walked downstairs, deciding that the bedroom was too stuffy. Who knew big houses could feel just as stuffy, even though there’s so much space, maybe it’s because although the Malfoy manor was huge it wasn’t lively. It felt more like a museum than a house as if they were always ready to be their best selves. A voice broke you from your thoughts, “You’re awake.” Draco stated. You chuckled softly, “Yeah, thanks for telling me captain obvious.” You quickly closed your mouth, chastising yourself in your head at your sarcasm until you heard a soft chuckle break the silence. As you peeked from under your lashes at Draco, catching a glimpse of his blue robs staring at you. Clearing your throat you whispered softly, “Draco?” “Hmmm?” You swallowed, gathering courage as you continued, “Can I ask you something?” “As long as it’s not stupid.” Letting out a nervous giggle you asked, “Why were you...crying last night? I heard you say something about how you couldn’t do something?” You saw darkness flash in his eyes, as his body language visibly turned away from you, turning rigid as a rock as he replied, “None of your business, y/l/n.” You cringed at the use of your last name coming so harshly from his mouth, “Draco, please? I’m worried for you.” “And why would you be? It’s not like you’re my friend.” Sighing you gathered your breath, “Because I care, Draco. I know it seems like no one noticed, Draco, but I see you. The real you. I don’t care about your house, your status, I care about you. And you want to know what I see when I look at you?” He cocked his head towards you, raising his eyebrows in question, “What?” “I see a boy who’s terrified. I don’t know what you’re so scared of Draco, but I want you to know I’m here, and just in case you didn’t know I passed DADA with flying colors.” That earned a chuckle from him as he looked down at the hardwood table, “I don’t think that’s going to help me, besides you wouldn’t understand.” You glared up at him, standing you ground, “Try me, Malfoy.” His green orbs met yours as if he were searching for a safe place, as his stare faltered. He sat down, talking about the expectations his father wanted from him and that it was too much, and how he feels as if he has to have a mask on all the time to seem as if he had his shit together. You could tell he was holding something back, something even he was too afraid to admit out loud, but you didn’t push, instead slowly moving your hand forward, placing it on his wrist. His arm tensed as his hand fidgeted with his sleeve, you noticed it but didn’t say anything as you moved your hand to his chin. “It’ll be okay...I promise, Draco.” Those words seemed to be exactly what he needed that pushed him over the edge, suddenly the cold, hard exterior of his washed away. Instead, there was the scared boy sitting in front of you as he let out a soft sob. Leaning into your hand, his lips trembled as he tried to hold back tears. You sat silently as you moved closer, holding him to your chest as you rubbed small circles on his back, humming a melody your mother used to sing to you at night. “I think I should go” he whispered out, as he pulled away,, choking at the end as he abruptly stood up, “See you tomorrow night?” you asked, as Draco looked down, nodding softly before heading up the stairs.

Days had passed with you and Draco meeting every night, talking about anything and everything that nobody else knew. It was your secret meeting, just the two of you in the world as you spilled your secrets as if the two of you had been friends for ages. Christmas had approached just as quickly, you hadn’t even noticed the time passing. You had wished Lucious and Narcissa a Merry Christmas as you gathered at the tree in the morning. After passing gifts around, you smiled as Lucious and Narcissa exchanged gifts with you. “Ummm I got something for you two as well”, you handed them gifts that Draco has helped you pick out and order as you had been talking one night. After the exchanges they got up to leave as you got up, gathering all the wrapping paper left behind. Draco stayed and helped, finishing up gathering the wrapping paper and taking it to the trash. You smiled at him as you looked out the window as Draco opened his mouth, “I-” You cut him off, a childish giggle coming from you, “Draco, look it’s snowing!” You ran towards the window, staring outside watching the snow gather on the ground. Footsteps resounded from behind you as a hand placed itself on your waist, surprised you turned around. “What are you-” Draco’s lips found yours as he closed his eyes, cutting you off. Closing your eyes you let yourself sink into the abrupt kiss, his soft, clod lips moving in sync with yours. Finally, losing breath you pulled away as Draco gathered his breath before saying, “I’ve been waiting to do that. Merry Christmas, y/n.” You gaped in awe as you looked up at him, “I-I...Draco, I’m sorry-” Draco’s eyes glanced at yours as you tried to gather your thoughts coherently enough to respond before he let out quickly, ‘Sorry”. Before walking off. “No, Draco, I-” Staring at the snow you hit your head softly against the window, “I’m not sorry, though.” as you chastised yourself softly at your response to his kiss, “Merlin, you’re stupid, y/n freaking y/l/n.”

Tagged: @lord-byron, @lonely-kermit, @candycornmgg (btw love your pfp I love mgg), @potatothingsz

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sgt-morgan · 3 years

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Lucky Kentucky ch. 1

Chapter 2

Hello there, this is my new Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

Your name didn’t matter, at least not so far as you could tell. They called you Kentucky, sometimes if they felt cheeky, Bluegrass. You liked it, the first band that gave you that name was some shitty college band out of Detroit. They were convinced they were gonna be the next Led Zepplin. They called it quits three years later, a good old fashioned Rock n’ Roll suicide, booze, women, and drugs. The finer things always gets the best amateurs. However, their lead singer had a way with words, he came up with the nickname. He also wrote a beautiful song about a girl named Kentucky, who he just couldn’t swing, some big named country superstar sang the song and the last you’d heard he had been writing for the best of the best since. This earned you your title, Lucky Kentucky. A bit on the nose for your taste, but it made perfect sense. You kept following the music, you went to a band in L.A., the day you left, they signed a record deal with Sony. The next was a little English girl and her backing band, her first tour of England with you landed her a tour of the US faster than they could say ‘Burbon.’

You are what is known in the music business as a road manager, so far as you could tell, this was the job you were born to do. You made schedules, you supplied booze and other artifacts, you got hotels, paid off paparazzi, packed busses, and shoved half out of their mind rock stars on to stages in more countries than you could count, you couldn’t imagine any better life. You were the best of the best, you were who the record company called when everyone else had given up. You were a fixer, and an incredibly talented one at that. You had a gift for taking a mediocre side show band, and turning them into headliners.

So when you got the call from Tony and Pepper that you had to fix The Howling Comandos, you were shocked. They were big time, nothing like your usual fixer upper opener that you could make insta stars. They certainly weren’t your crowd, but you always had a problem saying no to Pepper, Tony’s company manager. Tony was a talented mixer, and a gifted album technician. So when he started his own label, it blew up pretty quickly. The comandos were the first band he signed. They had won Album of the Year their first Grammy season without even batting an eyelash. So once business started booming, Pepper took over the paper work, and Tony did what he did best, Fucking around with a mixing board. You had met them when you started working with Natasha and the Widows, a Blondie style punk outfit. They had a pension for eating men alive. Eventually, it got in the way of their success, so you stepped in and saved the band from total destruction. You and the starks had been thick as theives since.

“Tony, you mean to tell me, that the Commandos, the biggest artists of the decade, need my help?” You scoffed down the line, checking the Widows out of the last hotel of their tour with Greta Van Fleet.

“Yes Bluegrass, I do. Barnes is going through some existential heart break shit ‘cause ole bitch called of the wedding, and fucked the Guitarist of their opener. He’s been all drugs, booze, and sappy shit since, and someone’s gotta get the mother fucker back on stage. I’m Loosing money here Kentucky, something’s gotta give.” Tony sounded livid, there were very few times where Tony was as frazzled as this, so you knew it was serious.

“Alright, but I have conditions.” You sighed, you thought you could hear the sound of Pepper weeping tears of joy, but you couldn’t be sure. “I want the Widows to open, I’m not done with them yet Stark they’ve got some potential that still needs to be tapped. I want Frankie on security, I want Wanda for wardrobe and makeup, I want Vision for my techie, and I’m taking Peter as my Head roadie.” It was a big ask, but if you were doing this, you were gonna need the best possible team.

“Jeez woman, rob the treasure chest would yah? You want all of them? You just asked me for the entire roster. They’re on other tours! I can’t just- HEY! Woman don’t you-“ you heard a slap and an ow, and suddenly you were with the one and only Pepper Potts- Stark.

“Kentucky? You have a deal. You can have the Allstars in three months, everyone’s tours should be wrapping up, that puts you just in time for festival season. You up to it?” Pepper sounded like someone had just kicked her puppy. So you knew, you were the only one that could save the day.

“Virginia? Count me in. Give me the three months to plan and connect with the team and I’ll make sure James Barnes makes it onto that bus.” You could practically taste her relief through the receiver. What had you just signed up for.

————————————————————————

You’d done it. Six months, 7 bus rentals, 75 hotels, 107 plane rides, 20 festivals, 95 shows, 89 cities, and roughly 200 people later, you had managed to construct the American leg of one of the biggest and longest tours you had ever seen. All it took was two months, and 23 bottles of Jack Daniels, and you had done it. Now all you had to do was meet the band, and have your first tour meeting.

You had never been so nervous to meet a group of men in your life. Normally, these meetings we’re pretty laid back and informal. Lots of getting to know you, and goofing off. This time, you were in charge of a multi-million dollar tour that could make or break the band of the decades d ruin your career. No pressure. Needless to say, you were fairly nervous.

You were relieved upon arrival that the first people to make it in were the people who seemed to be the most reliable. Vision and Wanda were quietly whispering to eachother in the corner as always, their hands gently intertwined as they surveyed the rest of their new subjects. Frankie was standing off in another corner looking like an immovable brick wall. His sunglasses firmly in place on his nose, looking scary as always. Peter was off with the widows flirting with their drummer. You didn’t think it would end well, seeing as MJ was a bit of a hot head, and Peter was akward and nerdy, but to your surprise, they seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Natasha and Carol were staring at a book full of something, if you had to guess, it would be song lyrics of some variety, and to your shock and absolute awe, Peggy had saddled up to Steve Rogers. Steve was the guitarist of the Commandos, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company. Tony and Pepper were chatting with Clint and Sam the drummer and bassist of the Commandos, and Bruce Banner, your newly appointed second hand. James Barnes was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well, good to see that most of you have arrived early!” You smirked walking to the head of the table with your big box of tour folders, Peter moving instantly to help you. “If I have not yet made your acquaintance, I am Kentucky, just Kentucky, you may call me Bluegrass or Lucky, but I will always prefer Kentucky. It has come to my immediate attention, that you sorry suckers were in need of a fantastic road manager, and here I am.” You survey the room as you spoke taking into account every face that you could see in the room and making sure everyone was following. “Now, where is James?”

————Some unnamed bar across town ————

Bucky’s head pounded. Wether it was from the booze or the pounding music he had no clue, but he could tell that it was far too early to be in this booth.

“You really went for it last night Barnes,” Bucky looks for the source of the voice to find that, Luke Cage, owner of the best bar in LA, was unloading boxes of tequila into his storage cabinets under the bar. “You shouldn’t have either, you’re late for your tour meeting.”

Bucky absorbed the information, and felt it melt out of his brain as if it were nothing more than an irritating ear worm. “How do you know about that?” He sighed running a hand down his face and slowly standing to grab his leather jacket.

“It’s sharpied onto your arm,” Luke chuckled pointing to Bucky’s right arm in just about the only clean space someone could fine. “Steve came in and did it last night before giving about a hundred dollars to let you sleep it off in that booth.”

“Of course he did,” Bucky scoffed, “the punk never knew when to leave well enough alone.” Bucky quickly slipped his sunglasses over his aching eyes, as he watched Luke slide a cup of coffee across the bar. “Goodbye Luke, your bar is the only thing I’m gonna miss about this town.”

“Goodbye Bucky, the free live music, and the fantastic tips are all I’m going to miss about you boys. I’ll tell Jess you said hello.” And with that final fond farewell, Bucky left Luke’s bar for the last time before he was trapped in a tour bus for six months.

The drive to Stark Records was as second nature to him as tying his shoes. He easily glided in between cars, making record time to his place of employment. He parked his bike next to a slot that occupied the sweetest little red corvette he’s seen in a good while. The tune in the reference catches his brain and he starts to whistle the chorus, wishing the artist formerly known as Prince was still around. He walked past Sharon, the desk clerk, giving her his customary wink and a smirk, stealing a sucker out of her candy dish and wandering into the meeting.

That’s when he saw her, the hottest piece of ass this side of the sunset strip. She looked powerful, she looked commanding, she was covered in tattoos and wearing the best looking little black number. She was saying his name. “Where is James?”

“Right here sweet thing, I hope I’m not too late to the party, I’d hate to miss anything that came out of that pretty little mouth.” Boy was it pretty, the full lips covered in a red shade that he could only seem to imagine smeared all over her moth as she panted his name.

“Ah, yes there he is. Hello, James. Just in time to-”

“James is my dad sugar, I’m sure we can think of something a little more clever for you to-”

“Alright then Junior if you don’t mind, I’m trying to conduct a meeting, and I will not be letting a drunken moron interupt my carefully planned work flow.”

Bucky’s jaw snapped shut as the people around him, some friends and some strangers, laughed at the clever lady’s little barb.

“Alright then, as I was saying, I’m here to help. I believe in the Peter Grant method of representation. The you-have-a-venue-you-want-it-filled-I-have-just-the-band-sixty-forty method.” She said, flipping her hair into a simple bun on the top of her head, which Bucky couldn’t find more attractive if he tried, “I have made hotel arrangements for every show, I have made bus arrangements, I have planned for added shows, and delayed dates. I have brought you the best opener I have, the best artists, roadies, security, and technicians I could scrape together, and most importantly, I have given you my time and my trust. I can make your touring life as easy and as simple as humanly possible, or I could ruin it. However, all I want is to get you out there, grinding again, reminding your fans the reason they love you. All you have to do, is let me work, and focus on the music. Can we do that?”

“Doll? I like the way you think.”

“Junior? It’s gonna be a long fucking six months.”

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bibislut · 4 years

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A Girl Walks Into A Tower

After finding out her best friend is actually Spider Man, Leena's whole world changes. Enter: a meddlesome billionaire, some flirty super soldiers, and one (1) stubborn God of Mischief. Throw in a real need for better communication, a game of spin the bottle and a whole load of banter - and you'll have yourself a real good time at Stark Tower.

Also known as Loki is hella sexy, hella moody and really freakin' stubborn. Featuring: Peter Parker being the cutest, Sam Wilson being a cheeky bitch and a little bit of being a bad ass on the reader's part.

This work has explicit language, sexual content and some mentions of blood / violence, so please take this into consideration before reading!

Word Count: 19,260

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1

You couldn't help but close your eyes as you took the stairs up to your apartment by memory. You'd lived here for nearly a decade now, and the 9 flights' every creak and whine were ingrained in your memory by now, and the 10 hour shift you'd just done could be felt in every muscle: you couldn't help but rest your eyes for a moment.

You finally reached your landing and opened your eyes only to find Peter Parker dozing against your door frame, dried blood staining his skin from his hairline to his eye. The seventeen year old often came to you for a stitch up, not wanting to frighten his Aunt with his injuries. You frowned down at his snoring form and hitched your bag better on your shoulder, crouching down to place your hand on his cheek. "Peter." you whispered, not wanting to startle him. The teenager opened his eyes with a dopey smile.

"Hey, Lele."

"Hey idiot, let's get you inside." You couldn't help but return his warm smile as he shrugged off your attempt to help him up - you always forgot how strong he was. You pulled your keys from out of your pocket and opened the door. Dropping your bag to the floor, you flicked on the lights and shut the door behind Peter, watching him limp to your kitchen table.

"What happened this time?" you asked as you rolled up your sleeves and washed your hands. You reached for a flannel from the bottom drawer and ran it under the hot water.

"Just some kids from school."

Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew the teenager would be picking at his lips like he did every time he lied. You knew he'd never tell you what really went on before he turned up to your apartment - he never did. You rung out the cloth.

"I swear to God Peter, if I come home one day to find you dead on my doorstep, I will resurrect you just to kill you myself." You couldn't help the motherly tone that clipped your words, despite only having a few years on the boy. Peter winced both at your words and at the pressure you applied as you wiped away the blood. As you cleaned the wound, you were relieved to see that it wouldn't need stitches, but there was a good chance it would scar. You frowned.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry Leena..." He surged forwards to wrap you in a tight hug and you sighed into his hair. You'd known him since he was 6 and you were practically family now. His uncle and your dad had died the same year, your mom joining them a few years ago. You'd always looked after each other, silently vowing protection over the other with each funeral attended. A loud banging at the door pulled you both apart, and you looked at each other in silence as you went to the drawers and pulled out your handgun, Peter walking into the shadows as was protocol (though you had never had to follow it before).

You were a good shot, but Peter was much more quiet and agile - a surprise attack suited him well. You don't know when you'd both become so jumpy, perhaps it was when Aliens began ransacking the city in 2012, or when the murders on the news became more frequent, or when... It didn't really matter. The world was a shit storm, and you'd let hell freeze over before you let anyone you loved get hurt because you weren't prepared.

You looked through the peephole to see someone you most certainly would not have expected. You turned to whisper to the shadows where you knew Peter was. "It's Tony Stark!" Peter emerged quickly, pushing you out of the way to unlatch the door, leaving you gaping like a fish.

"Hey, Mr Stark!" He threw himself at the billionaire, wrapping his arms around him. The businessman-turned-superhero patted the boy's back. The dirt that covered Peter smeared across the obviously expensive navy suit, but neither seemed to care.

"Good to see you alive, kid. Friday said you had some injuries and when I looked on your suit tracker you weren't in your apartment." He pulled Peter back to stare at him sternly. "Care to explain?" You looked at the two of them in shock. Since when had Peter met Tony Stark? And since when had they become so obviously close? The worry etched across the philanthropist's face certainly seemed genuine enough.

Peter turned to look at you anxiously. "I was with Leena, I stopped a robbery a couple blocks away, but they must have got me because I was bleeding, so I came here. She does a great job of cleaning me up, and I didn't want to scare Aunt May, you know how she wo-" he babbled, looking between the two of you, but stopped as Tony made a 'zip it' motion. You frowned at Peter's words; since when did he stop robberies? You put the gun you forgot you had been holding in the waist pants of your jeans and stepped forwards, offering your hand, which was far steadier than you expected.

"I'm Leena, I've known Peter since we were kids."

Tony shakes your hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Tony Stark." You look between the two of them as awkward silence begins to fill the air. You turn to gesture towards your apartment.

"Would you like to come in?" That was what you were supposed to do, right? Offer hospitality? You shook your head quickly to yourself. What the hell was going on?

You lead the way for the two guys, but put a hand on Peter's chest. "Go wash your hands before I catch you putting dirt in the wound I just cleaned." He offers you a salute as he turns down the corridor.

You make your way back to the kitchen to find Mr Stark lounging at the table in the spot where Peter had sat. "Tea or Coffee?" you ask. You wonder for a moment if the month old dollar brew in your cupboard is even worth offering.

"Coffee, black, one sugar." He offers you a thankful smile. You turn around and pull out three mugs, one tea, one coffee and one hot chocolate for Peter. "I bet cleaning up Mr Friendly-Neighborhood-Spider-Boy gets a bit tiring." The billionaire offers as a replacement for the silence. You stiffen, turning to stare at him.

"What?"

He curses under his breath “He didn't tell you?" The business mogul suddenly looks panicked - a glaring contrast to the confident man you'd seen on TV.

You snap your neck to look at the now-frozen Peter Parker standing in the doorway, a sheepish smile on his face.

"What the flying fuck, Peter?!"

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

You woke the next day at noon, not as rested as you'd hoped after you'd spent most of last night arguing with Peter. You had to admit you were proud of him, and it did make a lot of sense now that you thought about it. His constant 'fights at school', how light on his feet he was, how agile, how strong he was. You were kind of pissed that you hadn't figured it out before to be honest. You had had a hard time believing it all, but once Peter pulled his suit from his stash behind the couch, you didn't really have a choice but to accept the truth. Tony Stark had also been quite nice to talk to, and the way he treated Peter as his own was so great to see. He'd always needed a father figure. Tony had watched the two of you with rapt interest, seemingly pleased to meet someone so close to Peter. After a while Peter fell asleep on the couch, his head on your shoulder and you and Tony had mouthed your goodbyes. He'd woken up about an hour later and you gave him a hug as he climbed through your window to sneak back to his own apartment.

You sat up and stretched, stifling a yawn as you padded down the hall to the kitchen. A big yellow envelope hung from your letter box and you grabbed it curiously.

EVICTION NOTICE!

"Shit!" You cursed loudly, tearing it open. You knew the landlord was a slimy bastard, but you couldn't believe he was kicking you out. He was a selfish layabout and owned a few of the apartments in the building, yours being the nicest and largest. Knowing him, he probably wanted it so he could move in with his new girlfriend. Of course, he didn't say that in the notice, only that you had two weeks to pack your things and go.

*****

You'd spent the whole day at work lost in your thoughts, barely noticing the caffeine crazed customers around you.You didn't have enough saved to move anywhere decent, yet alone pay the first month's rent upfront as most landlords wanted. You couldn't move in with family - they were all dead or on the other side of the country. You didn't really have any close friends, only your work colleagues. That left Peter's place - but you knew they didn't have a spare room and you certainly couldn't squish everything you had into their living room.

You were still racking your brains by the time the last customer left the coffee shop at 9.55PM, and you hurried to wash their cup and sweep up, locking up and leaving. You trudged through the bitter cold of late-October the five blocks back to your building, bumping into the spider-boy himself in the foyer. You began walking up the stairs together, but found Peter frowning at you as you realized he'd asked you a question. You blinked at him.

"What?"

"You alright Lele? You seem distracted."

You pushed your hair out of your face with a grimace. "I'm being evicted."

It was Peter's turn to blink at you. "What?"

"That bozo, Ethan, is kicking me out." You tried to keep the childlike petulance out of your voice but failed miserably.

"Oh, shit. What are you gonna do?" You hated to be the reason for Peter's worried expression.

"I don't know. I'll figure something out though Pete, I always do." You kissed him on the cheek and patted him on the arm as you reached your perspective doors. "Goodnight, Pete."

Friday was usually games night, but he seemed to understand your lack of excitement without you having to explain. You threw him a grateful look and went your separate ways.

Read the rest on Ao3

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki fluff #loki angst #loki fic #loki fanfic #mcu #peter parker #a girl walks into a tower

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itsthebiiii · 4 years

Text

A messy summary of Ikepri Yves’ route from chap 16

Hey so it's me again lol. I know I'm SUUUPER late to the party and Nokto's route is out mah boiiiiis, but I finally finished one of the endings and I'm here to deliver them delicious spoilers so... here they are under the cut. Also, somehow more detailed than the last one but it's still as messy don't worry

also, sorry if there are any errors or inaccuracies!

So about that plot, well, some shit is going down that requires the princes to go to battle so they do that (once again, breezed through that part 😅). MC's quite worried bout Yves but he promises he'd return so they gucci.

While on the battlefield, everyone's all exhausted and full of blood on their hands, well, except for Yves. Leon and the gang noticed how he doesn't kill any one of the Obsidian soldiers and he just kept pushing them down. I think Yves was doing this because he doesn't want to kill one of his own because, no matter what he's got some Obsidian blood in his veins. Anyway, they notice a soldier about to attack Yves from behind, but before anyone could bat an eye, Licht comes to his rescue and gets injured. And yall know the drill, Yves feels guilty, yada yada.

After three days, the princes return and MC welcomes them. She noticed everyone looked messed up except for Yves, and when she called him it seemed like he didn't even hear her. MC is concerned bout what happened out there, but before she could ask some more, Jin asks her to take care of Licht's wound. She agrees, and while tending to his injury, Licht tells her what happened. He also told her there's one thing MC can do for Yves, but before he can say what, Jin and Clavis barges in the room with impeccable timing and some booze, announcing that they're gonna drink up for getting out alive so they gather everyone up lolol they rowdy af. Yves doesn't show up tho which makes MC even more worried

MC immediately comes to a realization that Yves might be blaming himself for what happened to Licht so she searches for him until she finds him in the kitchen. He still looked like he wasn't himself, so MC tries comforting him until he snappedt and tried pushing her away (I swear these two) Yves was like "yo wtf why do you even care for me I don't deserve that shit" and then that scene from the PV happens. Yves cried bout how much he hates himself more than anyone does and he wishes he was someone that ain't him. MC just stayed silent and listened to him pour his heart out ugh poor boi

Some time later, the princes gathered up again because they received a letter(?) from Obsidian. It said they want Rhodolite to send Yves back to Obsidian or else some shit will go down. They obviously think it's a trap of some sort but Yves agrees anyway so... that's decided. MC doesn't know of this until she hears from Luke. She rushes to Yves' room and saw him packing up. MC was also apprehensive about him going (or returning?) to Obsidian, but Yves just smiled and told her not to worry or smth. Also he was like "remember all that crap I told you that night at the kitchen? Sike, those were L I E S" and MC's just like "ye right" but because she was unable to form a response to any of that, she left the room teary eyed, with Yves also equally sad. MC returns to her room and while crying her heart out she realizes one teensy tiny detail: she's in love with Yves *insert surprised pikachu face*

So the day came for Yves to depart, but MC decides to stay in her room. Rio sees her in her state and told her "the MC I know and love wouldn't sulk around in her room smh go out there and chase yo mans" and after some persuasion MC heads out. She managed to catch up to Yves and talk to him for like 3 minutes. Also in those 3 minutes, she finally confessed her feelings and kissed him (Yves: 😲 guards: 😳😳😳) She's like "ye remember when I said I won't fall for u? Ye that kinda happened so I guess I'm yours for all of eternity" She also says she'll be waiting for him and gives him her memo pad before he leaves.

In the carriage, Yves reads MC's notes, there were some notes written about the princes but later they soon become notes about what they had done together: going to town, eating sum food, etc. He realizes that she turned it into a whole ass diary and it was mainly about him 😭 Yves was like "girl don't even know this ain't a diary... baka na no??? *sad princely sobbing*"

Back at the castle, the remaining princes gathered up again, this time with MC, and they talked about Obsidian's real motives. They talked about how Yves shouldn't have gone to Obsidian because the moment he interacts with them, he could or would get killed. MC was worried as she listens to them making plans and when Licht decided he would go first to retrieve Yves, he drags MC along with him because he's good at reading expressions and our girl MC here really wants to be useful to the story.

Meanwhile, Yves' carriage suddenly stops and one of his soldiers alerts him that there's a fuckton of Obsidian soldiers ahead and Yves realizes they've been set up. He instructs his men to return to the castle and leave him, also he warns them that there miiiight be some more Obsidian peeps on their way back so he commands them to get out alive. Despite their apprehension, well they had to obey Yves so they did just that.

MEANWHILE meanwhile, Licht and MC go to Obsidian (I don't recall if they bumped into Yves' army but meh) and they stay back a bit to watch stuff unfold. There, they see Yves talking to some Obsidian leaders or smth and the leaders were talking shit to him bout how worthless he actually is and all that crap. They were like "yo you're cursed with sum bad magic huh" Yves was like "Ye, I thought so too. But ya know what? I met someone who kept looking at me straight in the eye and focused on all my good aspects. That person made me stop denying myself. (MC: oh shiz he's talking about the stuff I told him before he left) So no matter how much I didn't want to accept myself, no matter how much I wished to be someone else, I mustn't deny the me that she believed in, I mustn't give up on myself! So ye. I'm Yves Kloss, the 5th Prince of Rhodolite!" YES my boi gain that confidence!!!

So the Obsidian peeps were like "btch u done with ur last words? Just so u know the men u let escape are prolly dead anyway so, how bout u die too aye? Pls die" and when the Obsidian soldiers point their blades at him, Licht decides it was a good time to show up

So ye, before Yves could take a blow, Licht blocked it with his sword. Yves was like "wtf r u two doing here???!" And MC replied with "we're saving you, duh" and Licht backs her up with "ye what she said" the Obsidian peeps were all ???? but they decided to kill them two as well. MC's like "ye no we have back up otw" but the Obsidian peeps thought she was just fronting. So Yves and Licht decides to buy them more time by fighting (but not killing) them. They may be strong but they're exhausted as well, then one soldier finds an opening and aims for Licht. Yves sees this and gets in front of Licht, getting his arm injured in the process.

They try stalling for a few more minutes until the gang finally arrives and they're relieved Yves and Licht are still alive. Jin was like "yo wtf we didn't agree to send Yves here just to get our princes killed in a place like this" and the Obsidian guys are like "we just wanted to welcome Prince Yves until he pointed his sword at us 👉👈🥺💦" but Jin and the other princes obviously ain't buying that crap.

So playtime's over and after all that political stuff, Leon's like "aye Yves, since u have Rhodolite and Obsidian blood, ur technically our bridge, so wtf do we do now?" And Yves says the four kingdoms should sign a peace treaty and also form an alliance to end all those beef. MC's happy for him because he finally achieved his dream of uniting Rhodolite and Obsidian through him. And ye, everybody agrees so everybody happy

BUT WAIT! Sariel announces that Belle needs to choose the next king at that very moment (like wtf couldn't they wait until they get home?) But hey, since they're forming alliances anyway. So MC's pressured and all until she realizes, ayo wait up... ya'll know what the kingdoms need? Not one, not two, but EIGHT leaders! "Ye fam, I appoint all 8 princes to lead the kingdoms... momentarily until I make my final decision." Sariel's like "That ain't allowed" and MC responds with "I know fam. But the kingdoms are in a pretty unstable situation, and we need these 8 dudes to support the kingdoms... after everything is settled and stable again do I choose the king" and they were like "if that's what Belle says, then aight smh" Then everyone finally goes home, but not before Yves and MC shares a moment and Yves faints or falls asleep due to exhaustion

Back at the castle, MC is summoned by Sariel and he shows her there is only one petal left of the rose. He tells her "I know you've technically done your job, but until you choose A KING, will you stay in the castle?" Of course MC agrees and Sariel tells her that he thinks she made the best decision for the situation.

After MC leaves, Yves enters the room and asks Sariel if he has seen MC. Sariel has half a mind to tell the truth, but where's the fun in that right? He tells Yves that MC's preparing to leave since she has done her job and according to the Belle clause, 'once the king is chosen, Belle can't interact with or see him forever' or smth like that and Yves was like "Screw that bs!" and ran to MC's room immediately, leaving Sariel to laugh in evil 😏

In her room, MC was worried about Yves' wounds so she decides to pay him a visit, when she hears knocks on her door that she recognizes was Yves'. He wasted no time entering the room and pinning MC to her bed (SQUEAAAAL) and she was like "??? ya good fam?!" And Yves replied "WHERE TF DO U THINK UR GOING HUH??"

(Ya know what I think imma put a bit of their convo here lol)

MC: To see you?

Yves: And what? So you can say goodbye and tell me we won't see each other forever? BAKA

MC: ...Eh?

Yves: I don't care what Sariel or the others decided. I can't accept this! MC, I can't even take it when you're not beside me... what will I do if we can't see each other ever again? Just thinking about it makes me crazy... You said you'll be mine forever, didn't you? Then I... I'm yours forever as well! Because I was the one who fell (in love) first!

MC: !!!

Yves: I love love LOVE you, you idiot! So don't go saying we won't be together! The Yves Kloss won't allow that even if the world turns upside down! (not sure about that last part)

SO YE. As much as that warmed MC's heart, she was like "i ain't going anywhere. Bruh Sariel's messing with u" and Yves is EMBARRASSED but he doesn't deny it anyway. He decides to say some more cute stuff so lemme put it down here xD

"MC, a lot of unexpected things happened in my life. But the most unexpected thing that happened to me is falling in love with you. Even though I swore I would never fall for you, I noticed I have. You said you were the first one to fall for me, but I think my feelings for you are bigger. MC, I'm stupidly in love with you."

And they argue about who loves the other more lolol then they do the deed 🤭

So some time passed, and the other princes were throwing MC some pickup lines (they were teasing Yves about taking the crown and the MC lolol) and Yves just stood there like "fam?? Aren't yall a lil too close?? Sariel help!!1! Licht and Chevalier too???" And he whisks MC away to his room. The other princes just smiled fondly at the two and Leon comments, "Maybe just meeting someone can fill up the gaps in a person's heart" and he recalls how they tried filling Yves' loneliness but somehow could not fill up the last piece. Until MC shows up and did just that. Jin was like "heh, that sounds like destiny" and Leon confirms that it is 🥺

Back at Yves' room, he has MC pinned down again and he declares that he needs to do his best to continue staying by MC's side. And MC says "me too fam" then she asks him a very important question: "Do you still want to be someone other than you?"

And he replies with:

"It's because you showed me my good traits and loved me for who I am that I don't hate the me I am now. Besides, if I were someone else, then I wouldn't be able to fall in love with you like this. It's because I'm like this, that you found me. That's why, from the bottom of my heart, I'm happy I'm me; I'm happy I did my best to live" ugly sobbing in the background 😭😭😭

So that beautiful CG appears, and Yves tells MC that line, "When I fell in love with you, it's as if the bad magic disappeared. Thank you... for teaching me what true love is."

A few days later, the two were at the library and Yves tells MC that before, he never knew what love is. But of course it's different now, because he tells her, "For me, the meaning of love is... you, MC."

~FIN~

YALL I'M STILL SOBBING BRUUUH 😭😭😭 this whole route was a blast 100/10 would read again (after I finish Nokto, I guess lolol) But ye. Yves is my best boi in IkePri because I'm a sucker for these tropes it's just so sooooft.

So I'm still undecided whether I should read the epilogue or nah because I need like 20 more affection pts? and I really wanna do Nokto's route... idk man

Well this was longer than I expected, so if you reached the end, have some more leFtOvERs from Yves! 🥧

#ikemen prince #ikemen ouji #ikemen prince spoiler #ikemen prince yves #ikepri #yves kloss

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

Text

Don’t Say Anything

Characters: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Original Female Character

Summary: OC Natalie has been broken up with Frankie for going on three months. A fateful night out with the girls ends in an interesting encounter.

Rating: Smut, 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Sex in a car, rough sex, angry sex, choking, implied/referenced drug use (if you look carefully), dry sex, angry kissing, post-breakup sex, angst

Word Count: 3988

Notes: This is part of what I hope will become a much longer story centered around Frankie and an original character, but this scene just would not leave my brain so I had to write it. I think it works as a standalone right now.This is my first time writing Frankie. He's so sweet but fierce in the movie, I tried to convey that. I love him so much, I just want to hug him around the tummy! Anyways...hope you enjoy and maybe I'll get my tail in gear and start fleshing this larger story out sometime.

Nat smiled wistfully as she watched Meredith twirl herself around the two good natured older bar patrons that had been wrested onto the makeshift dance floor by her tipsy friend. Next to Natalie at the bar, a few other of her close friends from work and her social circle were chattering away, tittering over Meredith’s shenanigans, talking shop, or gossiping about someone named Kelly’s botched boob job. Despite the cheerful energy and upbeat vibe coming from her friends, she felt like everything around her was moving slowly, like she was trying to run through water.

She might have considered that she had been slipped something in her drink, but she had been feeling this way since she had started getting ready earlier this evening, before even a drop of alcohol had touched her lips. Though she didn’t want to think about it too much, she knew what the cause of the fogginess was:

She missed Frankie. She missed him so much sometimes she couldn’t breathe.

Meredith had called her earlier that day and insisted that she join her and the others to celebrate her belated birthday. When Natalie had tried to protest, Meredith had called her on her self-imposed hermitage over the last three months, had told Natalie that she was worried about her. That if things weren’t going to change between her and Frankie, then she at least needed to step back into the land of the living, even if just for a drink or two.

“You need to socialize with someone other than your cats,” Meredith had squawked through the phone. Nat had made a face at the implied “crazy cat lady” reference but, she had thought, perhaps Meredith was right. During the week, she had summer school (which she had in previous years avoided like the plague but for which now she was grateful.) She could beg off outings on school nights, claiming the pressure from working with the high-risk students left her exhausted each evening. She had been skulking around the house most weekends; doing her level best to eradicate any and all memory of Frankie Morales.

Having not been able to sleep in her own bed for several weeks after he had left, she had repainted and rearranged her bedroom. Still, sometimes she would wake up crying, swearing that she could feel his weight in the bed next to her, hear his soft (or loud) snores in the darkness, smell their sweat and sex in the sheets. Everything in her home seemed to possess an echo of him. She had eventually sold her couch for a new one after remembering the very first night he had visited her home, when their lovemaking commenced with a steamy make out session on the leather sofa. Along with the new couch, she had also moved the rest of the furniture around. Out of nowhere one evening making dinner, she remembered the way he had sat her up on the counter one particular Sunday morning, pulled a chair from the table and spent almost an hour with his head between her legs. That particular memory had resulted in purchasing and installing new backsplash along with replacing the countertops and repainting the cupboard doors. She had turned into a veritable DIY guru with the cosmetic changes to her home, but that chosen method of trying to forget Frankie was proving to be exhausting...and expensive. Maybe, she had thought, it would do her some good to get out of the house for a night.

She had reluctantly agreed to join Meredith and the girls, but had almost immediately regretted it. The slogging through water feeling had begun as she had tried to make herself not look wretched and sleep deprived, then continued when she had left to pick up Meredith. She had done her best to not be a downer, engaging in small talk with the other girls and even surprising herself by laughing a few times. But now, as the night wore on and the alcohol loosened the women up more and more, Natalie just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

That’s a lie. She thought as she sipped the watered down cocktail she had been nursing for a good thirty minutes. What I really want is to lay on the couch with Frankie and watch something stupid on Netflix and fall asleep with his arms around. She felt tears start to sting her face and she shook herself.

This all felt a farce, trying to pretend like going out with girlfriends was even close to what it used to be back before Frankie; before she had let herself fall so deeply for that man. She only noted with half an ear when one of the women in her group leaned across her and whispered, “Damn, incoming!! Grey jacket, coming towards the bar...hellooooo handsome!” Would she ever again be able (or even ever want) to look at another man with desire like that again? Her girlfriends assured her she would; that it would just take time, but right now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Hey man, can we get another round for the back?” The booming voice of who she could only assume was the grey-clad target in question was a familiar one and caused her to start. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Benny?” The eyes of the younger Miller brother lit up when he saw her and before she knew what was happening he had slid down the bar and wrapped her in a bear hug, pulling her from her seat.

“Hooooly shit, Nat! It’s good to see you. How the hell are you?” She chuckled at his enthusiasm; Benny’s attitude was infectious, she had always liked that about him.

“I’m…” She shrugged, not quite sure what to say. She was sure that Ben and the others knew about her and Frankie. What should she say? Lie and say she was doing great? Tell the truth and say she missed his friend? Whatever she said, it would surely get back to Frankie; life with five brothers of her own had taught her that men talk almost as much as women. “I’m…ok. I guess.” She gave him a small smile and another shrug, and avoided his eyes to keep herself from asking him how Frankie was doing? She looked instead at the pitcher of beer and four clean glasses that the bartender had just placed on the bar in front of Benny. Her eyes froze on the four drink receptacles and Benny followed her gaze.

“Uh….shit...yeah…” Benny looked almost embarrassed and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. “We...uh...we’re all in the back...playing pool.” She didn’t need to ask; the look on his face told her that Frankie was part of that “we”. She nodded and took a deep breath. Of course they were. She remembered now that night when she had first “the guys”, after dinner they had come here and commandeered one of the back rooms for several raucous games of pool. She remembered how much she had laughed that night, how it had made her heart sing to see Frankie so at ease with his friends, giving each other shit and swapping inside jokes.

The memory made her eyes prick with tears and she stood up quickly. How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she realized where Meredith had brought them? She should have checked the parking lot for his truck. Dammit!

“Hey, Nat, listen…” Benny made to stop her from moving away and she paused and looked at him, waiting. He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think otherwise and just shrugged. “...Nothing. Never mind. It just...it really sucks...what happened with you and ‘Fish’. I know he…” again, he seemed to stop himself from saying too much. “Well….it just sucks,” he finished lamely. She could feel the tears welling now, threatening to spill over. She felt something like panic starting to rise in her chest at the realization that she was so close to Frankie after not seeing him for three months. The last time she had seen his face it had been marred with pain...pain that she had put there. His eyes had glittered with unshed tears and she remembered how his lower lip had trembled. She couldn’t see him now...there was no way she could face him!

She suddenly felt like the water she had been slogging through all night had suddenly risen above her head and she couldn’t breathe. She yanked her jacket and purse off the back of her chair, scrambling to pay for her drink.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ben. Me too...I mean, yeah. It does suck.” Her voice cracked. “It was good to see you…” she let her voice trail off, hoping that maybe he could read her mind; that maybe he would know to tell Frankie how empty she felt without him, how much she regretting asking him to pack his things and leave, how she wished she could do a thousand things differently. Instead, she just choked out “Take care, Benny.” And she whirled away before she lost the last shred of control of her emotions she still had. She didn’t want to be THAT girl sobbing into a drink at the bar.

She quickly let Meredith know what was going on.

“Nooooo!” Meredith crowed, slinging an arm around Nat’s shoulder. “He’s HERE?” She squeaked, craning her neck to look around the room and nearly toppling both of them over. Nat quickly untangled herself from her friend and made sure she was left in the capable care of one of the other sober women in the group. Then she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and headed out the door.

The heavy, humid Florida air seemed to suffocate her, but he evening had brought a blessedly soft breeze along with the darkness and she was grateful for the air that cut the mugginess, though she could still see clouds of humidity suspended within the shining lights of the parking lot lights. She shivered as she walked past the first row of vehicles and then the second, out of the relative comfort of the lights and further away from the music and ambient noise seeping out from the bar. She had parked in the furthest row earlier because of all the cars that had filled the lot when she and Meredith had arrived, but since they had been there, the second and third rows had diminished and her car now sat in solitude, the next closest at least five parking spots away.

Approaching her vehicle, she was putting her finger on the unlock button when she heard something that stopped her dead.

“Natalie.”

Her heart felt like it was being pulled up through her throat and she suddenly felt lightheaded. That deep, gruff voice like warm honey. She hadn’t imagined she would ever hear her name spoken by that voice ever again except, perhaps, to curse her.

She turned and there he was, charging towards her across the parking lot. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to see as far as emotion from Frankie, but the anger on his face was the last thing she imagined on his usually kind face. His brows were furrowed low over his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, fists balled at his sides. His eyes seemed impossibly hollow and overflowing with hostility all at the same time as his heavy stride kicked up gravel and crunched loudly as he strode towards her.

“Frankie,” she said, her voice wavering a bit at the darkness in his face as he passed beneath the last parking lot light and continued his beeline towards her and her car. “It’s ok, I’m leaving. I didn’t know you were here...I should have figured. I remembered too late you guys come here sometimes and I-”

Before she could finish, the rest of the words along with her breath was ripped from her chest as he slammed her body back against the side of her car with his, his mouth on hers, pinning every single part of her between every single part of him and her car. His lips were desperate, hungry; it was sloppy...she could taste beer on his tongue as he shoved it into her mouth without hesitation,seeking and prodding, attacking her own. It was all so abrupt and so unlike her sweet, gentle Frankie that she did nothing for a moment. Then she felt a moan slip from somewhere deep within her and climb her throat, seeping into his mouth as her arms flung themselves around his neck.

He suddenly rutted his pelvis into hers, hard, eliciting another moan from her when she felt him stiff and solid beneath his jeans and now pressed against where she so desperately wanted him to be.

“Open the door.” He grunted against her mouth, never taking his lips away from hers, his tongue leaving its assault on her only as long as it took to form the words. Her brain couldn’t focus on anything other than his kiss and it took her several long moments to even realize that he had spoken. “Open the fucking door.” Once again mouthed against her lips, this time it was a command, guttural and growled, like nothing she had ever heard from him or anyone else before. Breathless, he ripped his tongue and lips away from her, but kept his hands gripped tightly on her hips, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes as she fumbled with the key fob in her hand. The car’s headlights blipped, giving a soft ca-chug as the locks disengaged and in the next instant, he had ripped her away from the car, yanked the backseat door open behind her, and shoved her backwards inside.

Her bottom landed awkwardly on the seat and she bumped her head on something as she moved to right herself. She didn’t have time, though because Frankie was right behind her, looming over her and manhandling her further across the seat, hauling her legs into the car with one hand and slamming the door shut behind him with the other.

It was dark in the backseat without the parking lot lights in this row, but she could make out his face, grim and determined as he yanked one of her legs up forcefully around his hip and knocked the other wide and into the footwell, widening her legs so that he could crouch between them. She heard the distinct metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone, then almost immediately the pop of his button and soft shush of his zipper. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and she saw again that dark gleam in his eyes as he shoved her shoulders down, made her lie back with her neck and head propped uncomfortably against the opposite passenger door.

She wondered for a moment how much he had had to drink. Was that why he was being so aggressive? No, that couldn’t be it. She had been with him before when he’d had too much to drink. He got still and smiley and loved to put his face in her hair and sniff , or tangle their fingers together and make them dance on his stomach and chest while he sang a love song off key.

This wasn’t her Frankie.

This wasn’t the Frankie that had called her his angel and begged her not to send him away the last time she had seen him.

This wasn’t the Frankie that was always so caring and gentle and thoughtful and slow.

This wasn’t the Frankie that always whispered to her that she was beautiful when he was inside of her, that told her how he was so lucky she had chosen him, that made sure she was always comfortable.

This Frankie? This Frankie was something else entirely:

Dark.

Dangerous.

Angry.

And holy shit did she want him to fuck her.

His hands ripped at her skirt, pulling it high around her waist. He didn’t stop to remove her panties, merely shoved them to the side as he pulled himself from his jeans. He paused for just a moment, leaning over her, one hand next to her head on the seat holding himself up, the other hand gently tugging on his swollen cock. She gazed up into his face trying to see his eyes, but he kept his head angled downward, seemingly mesmerized by the pump of his hand hovering over her heat. She brought her hands up and twined them in his hair, uncovered now when his ball cap had been knocked from his head at some point. She reveled for a split second in the feel of the silky brown locks between her fingers and thought briefly of those lazy Saturdays when they had laid in bed reading or napping or talking, his head resting on her stomach and her fingers carding through this same soft hair. She felt him draw in a sharp breath at the touch and felt his body shudder. But he still refused to look at her.

She gathered more of his hair in her hands until she had two fist-fulls. She slowly tightened her grip, then gave a firm but insistent tug with both hands. His head finally lifted and she saw his eyes.

The hurt that she remembered from the last time was still there, raw and real as ever. Simmering below it was the darkness she had seen only a moment ago. Covering all of it was a thin sheen of desire that colored everything else. His eyes spoke to her clearly.

He wanted her. He knew that he shouldn’t want her. But he was going to have her.

And it was not going to be gentle. Or sweet. Or soft.

She nodded. Yes. Please.

Without warning, his eyes still locked with hers, he shoved himself inside of her with one hard push, fully seating himself. It was abrasive and she hissed as his dry cock entered her core without any type of preparation. She had only a split second to feel it though, before he yanked himself out, then back again, repeating the motion again and again. Thankfully, as he thrust in and out of her, her own wetness spread, easing some of the pain from his initial entry.

There were no sweet, breathless pants of pet names, no cries of affirmation. No calls to deities or lusty moans of pleasure. There was simply the ragged sound of both of them breathing heavily in the small space, an occasional quiet gasp lighting the air. The muffled sounds of his denim clad hips smacking into her naked thighs and ass drowned out most everything else. His pace was manic and he rammed his hips into hers over and over so hard she imagined she would for sure have bruises on her hips tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut more than once against the sharpness of his thrusts, trying not to cry out in pain. It hurt a little, but the fact that it was Frankie made her want to sob with pleasure. He pressed his forehead into the door behind her head, his breath puffing into her ear with each hard thrust and she snaked her arms up his back and shoulders the way she had always done, digging her nails forcefully into her skin along the way, making him hiss. She whispered his name into his ear.

“Frankie…”

He yanked his head up, his eyes flashing with anger again and moved one hand from her hips to her throat. He squeezed...hard, and she panicked for a moment. This had never happened before. She had never been afraid of him before but for an instant she was as she felt her windpipe close beneath his hand. She knew...she had never asked for details, but she knew...Frankie had killed people before, that he was capable...she had no doubt he could snap her neck right here in her own car if he wanted to. But just as the thought entered her brain he released his grip, but kept his hand firmly wrapped around her throat. He buried his face back next to her ear, growling and spitting out words between each powerful thrust of his hips.

“Shut up. Don’t say my fucking name. Don’t say anything. Just shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

His voice was dark, but she heard the desperation lacing the edges.

This was only for this moment. This was nothing past the inside of this car.

Frankie needed to feel her, needed to get off. This frantic, off-limits, out of control act of violently fucking his ex in the backseat of her car was not something he wanted to be doing. But the alternative-what he had chosen in the past, before Natalie-would ruin any slim chance there might be of ever getting this woman back if again.

He could have found someone else; a warm body. It wouldn’t have been that hard...some willing woman in a bar on any given night. But he couldn’t make that choice, either. He couldn’t find peace in someone that wasn’t her...because no one else could make him feel at peace and whole the way she could. His angel.

So, rather than hold her close and tell her he loved her and worship her body and bring her to ecstasy over and over and over again, here he was treating her like a cheap fuck, pretending that she wasn’t the woman he loved; the woman that had broken his heart. And he couldn’t pretend when she was breathing his name into his ear.

Without any words, without him having to explain any of that, Natalie understood.

He thrust into her once more...twice...three more times, each seemingly harder than the last and then he let out a cry filled with desperation and sadness as he spilled himself inside of her. Tears welled in his eyes as he felt himself twitching inside of her, the familiar feeling of her walls cradling him nearly sending those tears pouring down his face. He felt his stomach turn to water and his neck began to burn with shame. He hated that he hadn’t taken time to get her off, that she had read his need and had willingly let him take her, allowed him to be selfish.

He hated himself.

He pulled himself out of her slick heat, practically kicking the car door open and tucking himself back into his jeans as he stepped out of the vehicle. He couldn’t look her in the eye. Without a word, he turned and walked away from her car, crossing the parking lot as fast as he could, climbing into his beat up old pickup and peeling away. Natalie still lay breathless in the backseat as she heard the roar of his truck engine, the door of her car still wide open, her legs splayed and her skirt hiked up to her waist, his cum dripping from inside of her and pooling onto the seat beneath her.

****

Later, when she pulled into her driveway, she realized she had no idea where her purse was. She remembered she had had it in her hand when Frankie had kissed her. Without looking, she reached behind the front passenger seat and grasped blindly into the footwells until her hand knocked against something solid. She grabbed it and realized immediately it wasn’t her purse, but she couldn’t identify it. When she brought her hand forward to examine the item, she stopped breathing.

It was Frankie’s baseball cap.

Clutching it to her chest, she felt herself shatter into a million pieces. She caught a whiff of Frankie: his shampoo, his cologne, the sweat from his brow.

She buried her face into the cap and sobbed.

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#pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x ofc #Triple Frontier

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carsontheleft · 4 years

Text

Hot Mess

Summary: Hot Space is a hot mess and John does not want to not talk to Roger anymore. Things get more emotional than any of them bargained for.

Pairing: JohnxRoger (platonic), RogerxDominique (mentioned), JohnxVeronica (mentioned)

Comment: Hey, look, I’m still alive! I started this a while ago and then I spontaneously finished it yesterday and THEN I thought about posting it immediately and then I DIDN’T and now it’s John’s birthday it just fits quite nicely. Happy Birthday, John! Have fun with this, y’all.

John has to forcibly hold himself back from slamming the coffee pot back into its place. No coffee would only worsen the already disastrous day. Week. Month, almost. For the first time, Munich doesn’t seem to be their lucky place.

But maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s because John finally lets himself push for things he wants, that he likes and doesn’t let himself give in just because Brian is pushing for his way.

Brian. The mere thought of the guitarist turns John’s stomach into knots and pushes up his blood pressure. How can a single person be so fucking obnoxious, bull-headed, old-fashioned-

Okay, stop.

John takes a deep breath of stale basement air and decides he needs to breathe real, fresh, cold air without a huge grey, looming building pressing down on him.

Arriving on ground level, he takes one of the back doors leading to a narrow alleyway to escape. The air here smells a bit sweetly of the rotting food in trash cans, but it’s cold and sharp and already saturated with bluish smoke of cigarettes.

Roger is crouching beside John’s feet, leaning against the grey stone, with a pack of Marlboro Reds at his feet. It’s half empty and it’s not even noon.

“It’s not really the right weather for being outside without a jacket, is it?”

It isn’t. November in Munich doesn’t provide conditions to do anything outside. Where Montreux may have gotten the last golden sunrays of the year or the winter’s first snow, Munich is just grey, dreary and dark.

“I don’t see you wearing one”, Roger squints upwards at John having forgotten his sunglasses downstairs.

“Fair enough.”

Neither of them talks when John lights his cigarette.

Normally, that would be unusual. There has hardly ever been a time where John and Roger didn’t talk to each other, may it be because of an argument or because they didn’t have anything to talk about.

But not-talking is the safer choice of interaction nowadays. Not-talking doesn’t pose such a high risk for arguments.

But they’re friends and John wants to talk to Roger, he wants to explain his ideas and visions just like he’s always done it, but he’s not sure Roger would listen. And he just doesn’t understand why, doesn’t get why Roger and Brian are so afraid of some change, when that’s what’s Queen been about all along, a band not succumbing to trends and expectations, a band that always knew to surprise.

“John, I don’t wanna fight anymore.”

John nearly drops his cigarette when Roger’s voice rips him out of his thoughts.

He’s looking at him, and John is suddenly hit by how young Roger appears with his tousled blonde hair and wide blue eyes, that, admittedly, are blood-shot, but that doesn’t take the child-like innocence out of them.

Despite that, John scoffs.

“It’s hardly me who’s at fault here.”

Roger visibly flinches at that, recoils and turns his eyes back to the dirty pavement in front of him.

John’s worked hard to build up the defenses he’s calling his own now, so thick and impenetrable that not even Brian with his jabs and sniping remarks can get through them.

But now Roger’s ripped through them, just like that.

“Rog…”

“No, no, it’s fine, you’ve made your point”, his voice is a little husky, only barely betraying his hurt, “I’m going back inside, see you there.”

And it’s actually this eerie calm, which is so unlike Roger, that John wakes from the stupor he’s worked himself into and makes him realize they really should stop fighting and get to talking instead.

Roger’s quiet for the remainder of day, too. And John’s not the only one who notices, Freddie asks if Rog is alright and earns himself a grumbled “Just want to get out of this shithole”; Brian only grants him an irritated look when Roger doesn’t jump to his defense. Mack, Crystal and the other roadies opt for not saying anything at all, they know better but to get into arguments that cannot be stopped anyway.

It’s when Roger practically flees from the studio after they collectively decide they won’t get much more done and doesn’t stay back to joke around with the others that John decides he has to do something immediately.

He gets some beer, the German stuff isn’t really his taste, but Roger seems to have taken a liking to it, grabs two pizzas from the Italian place Mack did recommend and walks over to Roger’s apartment.

It takes the drummer some time to answer his door, two rounds of insistent knocking and a raised hand to start a third one, only then there’s some shuffling, the clicking of locks and Roger opens the door a fraction.

“Why’re you here?”, his blond hair is sticking up in every direction and he’s wearing a dark fluffy bathrobe. There is a flush to Roger’s cheeks that tells John he either pulled his friend from a bath or was just lucky to catch him coming out of the shower.

“To talk. Not to fight”, John holds up the pizza boxes with the beer stacked on top, “Please, Rog.”

Roger stares at him for a moment and for once John absolutely can’t read the usually so emotional face. Then he heaves out a sigh and opens the door to let John in.

The place is cluttered in a typical Roger-fashion. An overflowing ashtray, papers with what could be lyrics or shopping lists, a part of a drumstick for some reason and a colorful array of take out packaging. John winces, maybe he should’ve brought stuff to cook a fresh meal instead of gifting Roger yet another pre-made supper.

“How’s Dom?”

“She’s good. Took Felix and went to visit her parents, escaping the rain and stuff. You know how she hates it”, he does his best to declutter the couch table, mindlessly stacking pieces of paper on top of each other without looking at them or at John, for that matter.

“How are Ronnie and the kids?”

“They’re good, Ron wants to come down next week, but we’ll have to see if it works with Robert and the school. I miss them.”

Now Roger looks at him, but it’s not the look of disdain and almost disgust he wore when John presented them the lyrics of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ and he threw a fit over ‘I’m happy at home’. This one is one of understanding and compassion.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s have a taste of that beer you brought, yeah?”

They mostly eat in silence, only interrupted by the quiet murmuring of the TV and one of them occasionally commenting on the food or the beer. When John’s done with his food Roger is intently watching the 10 pm news. He’s not sure the drummer understands much of it, but John is willing to indulge him a while longer. It’s not like he’s looking forward to this heart-to-heart, but he knows it’s necessary and they’ll feel better once they’re done. John only wishes he could fast forward everything in between now and then.

“We need to talk about this”, John starts eventually when the pretty blonde woman on the TV is done with telling them that the next days will be just as dreary as today.

“And what exactly does ‘this’ entail?”

Roger is already in full on confrontation mood, and John has to force himself to stay calm. It’s Roger, he tells himself, no matter that it was actually him who put up the white flag this morning, he still doesn’t like to be cornered.

“Us not working like we used to. The constant fighting and discussions and nothing coming out of it. You constantly siding with Brian without listening to a word I say!”

Oh shit, he really could’ve worded that better.

“Me not listening? I AM listening, other than Brian and you! I’m listening to both your opinions and then I decide!”

“And it’s always in favor of Brian!”

“Well, if we share an opinion, then yes!”

“But why? Why are you so intent on keeping everything as it is?”, they’ve gotten louder and John really, really doesn’t want this to evolve into another shouting match, but he might not be strong enough to reign himself in.

But, much to John’s surprise, Roger sighs and slumps back against the couch rubbing his eyes.

“Because it works! We’re doing this how long now? 10 years? People know us, they expect our product to meet a certain standard, an expectation.”

“Our- our product? A certain standard? Roger, what are you talking about? Isn’t our music about how we feel? What we think? It’s not supposed to be some commercial bullshit”, John is seriously flabbergasted. Not in a million years he would have thought Roger would start to view their work as a ‘job’ only consisting of deadlines and expectations and goal fulfilment.

He scoots over to the other end of the couch where Roger is sitting and bumps their knees together.

“What brought this on, Rog? What’s going on?”

“It’s just…”, the drummer shrugs, rubs his eyes again and then starts to knead the shoulder muscles that John knows are always a bit tense, always a bit sore.

“We’ve been doing this 10 years, John, ten years! How many bands have made it farther than that? Who says it won’t just all fall apart next month? We can’t just start making different music now!”

“We’ve been always aware of that possibility. There was always the chance we wouldn’t make it, but now we’ve got number one hits in America! We’re an established name!”

It feels a bit weird to take on the motivational part, the part of convincing the others that they have actually made it. Usually, it’s Roger who does that.

“Yeah, but…”, Roger blows out a breath, “Don’t you feel like- like you were 27 just yesterday, snorting all the coke in New Orleans without a care in the world and now, now there’s a child and- and a-“

“A woman you might as well just marry”, John tightly presses his lips together to not let the laughter escape. So, that’s what all this is about, Roger just realized he’s actually a grown-up now and he doesn’t feel too comfortable about it.

“It’s not that!”, Roger argues, “What difference does a bloody certificate make?! I have a family now; I have to provide!”

John sucks in his cheeks to keep himself from grinning. He gets it, he does, Roger’s worries are understandable, and he doesn’t want to ridicule his friend, but from John’s position his worries are a bit ridiculous, when they’re in far better position now than when John first became a father.

“Dom has a job, too, you know?”, John teases, fully intending to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect.

“That’s- Stop making fun of me!”, Roger jumps up from the sofa and hovers over John, fists clenching at his side as if he has to keep them from either punching something or someone or from thrashing his apartment.

“You know, sometimes I feel like that’s the only thing I’m good for! The dumb blonde, that crazy drummer guy, let’s make fun of him, he deserves it! He’s no good for anything anyway, can’t manage to write a good song, and we don’t even need him for drumming anymore!”

Oh. Oh.

So that’s where all this moodiness is coming from.

Roger rarely shares his feeling so honestly, usually none of them does if there are not copious amounts of alcohol and or other substances involved, but Roger especially likes to keep everything bottled up, until it implodes. And that leaves either a destroyed room or drumkit, or Roger in front of a toilet puking his guts out and avoiding just about everyone for a few days after until he’s okay with himself again.

So, to say the least, this emotional outbreak with feelings actually being articulated is uncharted territory for John. And for Roger too, who’s staring at John like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Rog-“

“Forget it!”

He stalks away, fluffy bathrobe and naked feet, and slams his bedroom door shut.

John sighs and settles back into the sofa. He came to talk and he’ll get his talk, even if he has to stay the night. With Roger, that might just be the case.

Well. At least the apartment has a second bathroom.

John wakes a couple of hours later, around 3 am. It’s a weird feeling, usually they’d still be out and drinking, but it’s probably not the worst thing to get a whole 8 hours of sleep at what is actually night.

A sharp gust of icy cold air wafts through the room and John finds that it was that what woke him in the first place with the flimsy throw he used as a blanket not providing adequate cover.

The apartment is mostly dark save for the lights of the city streaming in through the window and John can see through the door gap into the hall and that Roger’s bedroom door is open again.

He finds him in the kitchen, standing in front of the open window smoking.

“You’re still here”, he notes when John steps up beside him.

“I wanted a talk, an honest conversation. I won’t leave until I get one.”

“Took a note out of Freddie’s book then, huh?”

“Freddie?”, John scoffs, “Try your own.”

Roger turns to him, mouth open and already gesturing with the softly glowing cigarette. “I’m not-“

“Ridge Farm?”

That takes his drive. He turns back to the view, deeply inhaling the burning smoke. John takes one out of Roger’s packet. He doesn’t really like the brand, but it’s better than nothing.

“You taped my drums, John”, Roger eventually says.

“Are you still mad about this? I’m sorry and I promise not to touch the kit again without you knowing.”

“It’s not that- well, that too, but-“, Roger takes a deep breath, steeling himself, “You tape my drums and there’s nothing I can do that a drum machine isn’t able to. Hell, I’m not even the best drummer without them taped, my technique is weird, if you can even call it that, there are guys who are a lot better than me and understand this disco thing you’re prattling on about.”

“It’s not like Brian-“

“He’s trying, okay? He’s trying to get into that kind of music, he’s not sprinkling guitar solos all over the songs like you’d do it with coke on a hooker because he wants to annoy you! Well, not primarily anyway, but he’s trying to make his contribution to what you’re doing! He wants to have part in this and I, I just don’t see it, I’m sorry.”

Roger flips the butt of his smoke out of the window and rubs his eyes.

“But we can’t just stop! We can’t just stop at The Game and that’s it! We need something new, start fresh like we’ve done it with each album.”

John finishes his cigarette as well but makes a show of putting it out in the ashtray.

“I know that, Deaks, I do! I really don’t want to become the guy that needs to be dragged off stage because the people got tired of him playing the same things over and over and over again! But I just can’t do this disco thing.”

John understands this. You can’t force yourself to produce music you just don’t feel. This is like Fred and his love for opera and musical theater, something John will never get the hang of, no matter how often he’ll take Ronnie to the ballet. And while Roger does like a more electric style of music, he’s not really known for setting the dancefloor on fire. Maybe the women on it but not the dancefloor itself.

“I know you and Freddie don’t need me to realize your vision, this album but I- I can’t lose Queen, John, I can’t. It’s everything.”

Roger’s almost too quiet for John to understand resting against the kitchen counter in the dark, half of his face illuminated by Munich’s night life in a loose shirt and a pair of boxers.

And John thinks, this is it. This is what all this is about.

Because John started to play with those guys he now calls his brothers as a hobby, as a distraction and creative outlet opposite his studies. He had never envisioned to become a famous musician; this never had been a goal for him. So he had sat back and let Freddie, Brian and Roger work on the music, on the band, had let them work on their dream.

And then he had turned 30 and for the first time John had thought that this might be what he’d do the rest of his life. And he decided to give it his everything all, to make a monument for himself, to really give his very best.

And for Roger it had always been like that. There never had been a second option, a plan B, go big or go home. John’s pretty sure even if they hadn’t made it, Roger still would still be a musician. If not in Genesis then in some local band or a studio musician, but he never, ever would have gone to work in some lab or, even worse, in a dentist’s office.

“What are you talking about? You won’t lose Queen! Never! We’d lose all our female fans if we kicked you out!”

“Great to hear that that’d be the greatest loss”, Roger grumbles and turns away but John catches his wrist.

“You won’t lose us. We need you. Who’d be there to back up Fred when his voice is shot? Who’d argue with Brian just to draw him out of his funks? And heaven knows, not Brian nor me can keep up with Freddie.”

“Like I can these days.”

And there’s the other worry hanging in the air around them, Freddie leaving them behind more often than not, being more elusive than he’s ever been. But that’s a worry for another night, right now this is about the two of them, the Sonic fucking Volcano.

“Come on”, John tugs on Roger’s wrist, “Get over here.”

“Deaks, no, I don’t-“

John tugs a little harder and then Roger’s body is pressed flush against his.

“Like you ever say no to a good hug.”

“I hate you”, the drummer mumbles against John’s shoulder and heaves out a mighty sigh relaxing into the embrace.

“I’m sure you do.”

They rest like that for a few minutes, which is not really a thing they’d normally do, but they’re both tired and miss their partners. It’s okay.

“Y’know”, Roger says as he detangles himself, “I’m not sure Queen would lose all its lady fans if I left. Not with you looking like some kind of… Greek God.”

He wrinkles his nose and pokes John into his right pec.

“It’s called exercise, Rog, you could try it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t exercise daily on those bloody drums. Also, Dom likes it. She calls me soft and cuddly.”

He sticks out his chest.

“Wow, look at that, Roger Taylor is proud of being called soft, what a turn of events!”

“Well, at least I don’t look like handlebar with an exploded mop on top.”

“Handlebar? I seem to recall you calling me a Greek god not 30 seconds ago!”

“Yeah, and I regret it already. Just wait until I throw you out of the band!”

#dealor #roger taylor #john deacon #queen #fic #hot space #hurt/comfort #banter

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 5 years

Text

When You Least Expect It Part Ten

Jensen x Musician!Reader; Mama Mia (OFC); Dee (OFC); Briana Buckmaster

Masterlist - Contains Chapter Links & Wardrobe Collages

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part ten is from the Both POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series.

Spotify Playlist : Songs in this chapter - “How Will I Know” “Can’t Say No”

Beta’d by @closetspngirl who has contributed so much to this fic! Thank you for not only indulging my lunacy but encouraging it with gusto! I don’t know what I would do without you!!!

Chapter Summary: Jensen decides its time to put an ex in their place and while its another month closer to the festival, Y/N is starting to feel the pressure of getting everything done and calls on some reinforcements. But when a call comes in that shakes both Y/N & Jensen badly, they will have to figure how out to navigate this new threat.

Chapter Warnings: Eh - not much - a little angst, a little floof.

WC: 10.8K **with lyrics. Lyrics NOT written by me in bold, italic.

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online.

Tags are open if you want on, or wanna hop off.

Sleep was not her friend. For hours after Y/N received the call warning her to stay away from Jensen, she tossed and turned relentlessly. She couldn’t get the voice out of her mind… it was Dee; there was no doubt there. The only thing she questioned was if she should tell Jensen. The back and forth arguing she was doing with herself was only making sleep more elusive. As she watched the minutes tick by on the bedside clock, Y/N grew more and more frustrated.

With only two hours left until her alarm was to wake her for the airport, she got out of bed. Her suitcase had already been packed for her coast to coast trip, and for the first time since taking the job, she did not want to go. What she wanted to do, was rewind the clock to the night before and relive her date with Jensen.

It had been a fairytale evening, and for a girl that rarely believed in those kinds of stories, she felt herself longing for the prince to return with her lost slipper. Y/N was tired but yet energized with how to handle the direction everything was taking. The confrontation with Nathan, Jensen having to step in, the date, and now his ex deciding it was her turn to stir up trouble.

She had to tell him about the call, and soon. It was only fair. He came to her immediately after his conversation with Jared. Didn’t she owe him the same favor? Y/N decided she did. Not only that, but above all else, Jensen was her friend. She had to tell him that Dee had been calling… what made her sit up and take pause though, was that Dee had to know Y/N would say something. So, why make the call?

Because she’s jealous and freaked now that she saw you together, her subconscious spoke up softly. That little twist in her stomach that came with instincts kicking in churned now and she knew that had to be it. Dee was jealous and scared. The idiot lost a damn good man and when she realized the error of her ways, it was too late. While Y/N didn’t subscribe to the kind of games some women liked to play, she knew the playbook well enough. She would never stoop to that level, but one thing was for sure; this was a move that Dee would come to regret making.

Daylight finally broke and going on no sleep, Y/N got into her favorite pair of Yoga pants and Zeppelin t-shirt, threw on her black Birkenstocks and put the suitcase near the door for when the car arrived to take her to the airport. She figured Jensen would still be sleeping, but she couldn’t go another minute without doing something about the call she got the night before.

Bringing up the messaging app on her phone, Y/N went to Jensen’s messages and bit her lip as she smiled seeing the last few he’d sent her, before sending one of her own.

<<Hey. Last night was fun. Sad we can’t do it again tonight. Getting ready to go soon, but was hoping we could talk later. Call you when I land.

Y/N sighed and tucked the phone away again, feeling a little better, that she at least put that out there. She had the whole flight to Seattle to try and figure out what she wanted to say about it. At that moment, she felt childish and that she was overreacting. They were adults, after all. So what if Dee called and tried to warn her away from Jensen, it didn’t mean she had to listen. Y/N sat on one of the island stools and let her head rest on her arms folded in front of her on the granite countertop.

“I just wanna sleep,” she whined, tired from both lack of rest and overthinking.

A soft knock came at the door. She looked up curiously before double checking the clock on the stove. The car was more than an hour early; unless it wasn’t the car service…

Y/N was suddenly nervous as she slowly walked towards the door. After Nathan, and then the call, she was more than a little on edge. She stood on her toes and looked through the peephole of the front door and felt a swell of relief, then immediately exhilarated. She unlatched the deadbolt and lock on the handle and opened to see Jensen standing there.

“Hey, Trix. Heard you needed a ride to the airport,” he said, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame with one foot kicked over the other. “Thought I would give ya a lift.” He pushed off with his shoulder and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind him.

“You’re insane,” she chuckled. “Why are you not home sleeping?”

“Figured this would be the last time we saw each other for a while--”

She shook her head and gave him a rueful smile. “You just saw me like, four hours ago.”

“Five, actually. Now I probably won’t see you for a month, so, let me take you to the airport. Gives us another couple hours to hang out.”

“Geez, I dunno… I’m startin’ to think you might like me a little bit…” she teased, which provoked him into grabbing her wrist and playfully pulling her into him.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe just a little.” Jensen gazed down at her, his green eyes soft while he studied her face. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked quietly, suddenly concerned with how worn out she looked. “You look tired. If the traveling is too much, just say so. We can send someone else out to take care of all this.”

The phone call came forward in her mind. Shit, she thought, I wasn’t prepared for this so soon…

“No, it's fine. I need to go, especially to Jersey. I just didn’t sleep well,” she breathed and had the sudden urge to lay her head on his chest. She pushed past her anxiety on how he would react and did it anyway. His arms instinctively ensconced her shoulders and his chin rested on her head as he held her.

“Why not?”

Y/N could hear his heart beating in his chest, slow and rhythmic; a sound that she would come to find quite calming. She was about to tell him about the call, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. Right now, just wanted to be there, in his arms and hear his heart; not talking about exes and phone calls, again.

“Oh, you know… thinking too much,” she said, covering the truth for the time being.

“Well, at least you can snooze on the plane.”

“Exactly, no big deal,” Y/N said and looked up at him. “But I sure am glad you showed up to take me. Now I don’t have to tip the driver.”

“Oh, gonna just use me as a taxi and not even tip me? Wow. Rude. Honestly, I thought your father raised you better than that,” he said, his deadpan expression holding out, but her wide grin and peek-a-boo tongue gliding along her bottom lip finally made him crack a smile.

“I’ll tip you, Hollywood. No worries. Just not gonna be in cold hard cash,” she purred and stood up on her tiptoes to leave a long kiss on his cheek.

“Well… when you put it that way…” Jensen said and she could have sworn she saw a flush of color touch the height of his cheekbones.

“So, any chance there’s time for a coffee run before we gotta be there? Maybe even a bagel?”

“Well, coffee yes. But a bagel? No. Now you’re just being unreasonable.”

She groaned, rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “You’re gonna make me beg? For a bagel?”

“Oh, darlin’,” Jensen chuckled as he leaned down and kissed her softly, “if I wanted you to beg, it would be for a whole lot more than a bagel. But no time for that now. Come on, let’s go grab some coffee.”

Y/N just stared at him, giving him that ‘I-can’t-believe-you-just-went-there’ look. Jensen flashed her an impish smile, clearly as payback for her innuendo, then grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door.

Twenty minutes later, Y/N had a coffee and bagel in hand as Jensen directed his truck towards the airport. It was quiet, but not in their normal, comfortable sort of way. She needed to talk to him about Dee, but it didn’t feel like the time; either that or she was just procrastinating and avoiding the inevitable. He hadn’t brought up the text message she sent either, but as they drove down the freeway she could feel his eyes wander over to her.

“What?” she asked and nibbled at the bagel.

“Nothing,” he said and shrugged with his expression. “You’re just quiet. You’re never quiet.”

“Just tired,” she replied, trying to be casual and shrugged it off.

“Nah, it’s more than that. Come on, spill it. What’s up?”

Y/N kept her focus on the bagel, as she ripped off a small piece of dough and ate it. “Did you, uh… did you happen to see the text I sent you?”

“Oh, yeah. I got it just as I was getting to your place and then I forgot. What did you wanna talk about? Is, whatever it is, why you seem... not yourself?”

She nodded slightly, as a defeated sigh escaped her lips. “I kept getting these calls, on and off for a while now. Honestly, I thought they were Nathan, or maybe even my brother.”

At the mention of Nathan, Jensen’s entire body tensed up. “Nathan’s calling you?” he asked through tight, pursed lips.

“No... it wasn’t him. I thought it was for a minute though. So last night when they called--”

“Last night? When last night?”

“After you brought me home. I went to bed and the same number called. I finally answered it.”

“If it wasn’t Nathan, then who?”

She cast her eyes down on the bagel again. “I don’t have any proof other than the voice, but… I’m pretty sure it was Dee.” Y/N swallowed nervously and then hesitantly looked in his direction. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you--”

“What did she say?” His eyes were still set straight ahead, and he was white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“I don’t remember word for word, but the gist was to stop seeing you.”

Jensen’s mouth pulled into a thin line, and she could see him biting down on his bottom lip. “I need you to try and remember, okay? Please?”

Y/N thought back to the call but didn’t want to reiterate it word for word. She tried to think of a way to make it not seem so bad, then immediately got mad at herself. Why should she protect Dee, or make this easier for her in any way? SHE was the one who not only called but broke Jensen’s heart, left him for someone else without a word. Y/N’s need to avoid further conflict fell by the wayside, and she told him everything.

“She basically said to stay away from you, and that she saw us last night at the concert. The way I act around you is disgusting and I am out of my league with you. Also, I should go back to the cesspool I came from.”

Jensen fought the urge to pull the truck over and call Dee right there. Instead, he re-adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What else?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Nothing. She hung up after that.”

“Are you alright? I mean, after what happened with Nathan, and now this…” he trailed off, and though the anger wasn’t prominent in his expression, she could feel it coming off of him in waves.

“I’m alright. Just annoyed I guess. I blocked the number. What pisses me off is that she thinks she has the right to say who deserves to be in your life. What right does she have after what she did to you?”

That made the corner of his mouth tug into a small smile. “I guess what Jared said was true,” he sighed and finally took his eyes off the road briefly and turned his head to look at her. “I’m sorry she’s putting you in the middle of this.”

“Please, after what Nathan did? This is nothing.”

“But it’s not nothing, Y/N. I don’t care about what she did to me. I do care, however, that she’s bringing you into it just because she’s changed her mind. I’m pissed at myself for believing that she just wanted to be friends again and for letting her back in at all.”

“Sure does sound familiar,” Y/N mumbled and noticed Jensen smirk at her words. “Don’t be mad at yourself, Jay. You were just doing what you thought was best. I wasn’t even going to bring it up. I did because you were so upfront about talking to her and I don’t want to see her fuck with you, again.”

Jensen glanced over at her and smiled sweetly. Y/N saw that it wasn’t completely genuine, but she didn’t take it personally. She just hated that he would beat himself up for a while, though it wasn’t his fault.

“Listen,” he started and glanced back at her before looking back at the scant traffic before him. “I need you to know that I have zero interest in her--”

“I know that.”

“You sure? No doubt in your mind?”

Y/N wrapped the bagel and put it back in the bag before unbuckling her seat belt, and sliding across the bench seat towards him. The moment her hand touched his arm, she felt his muscles relax and heard a breath of air sigh from his lips. Taking his right hand off the steering wheel, he moved his arm so she could tuck into his side. Jensen’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her while he drove down the freeway.

“Zero doubt,” she sighed and for the first time since she had gotten the call, she felt calm and relaxed enough to sleep.

Jensen went with Y/N as far into the airport as he could, having to say their goodbyes before the security checkpoint. They kept it short and sweet, not wanting to draw attention for Jensen’s sake. He made her promise to call when she landed, and she made him promise not to commit a felony where Dee was concerned.

He watched her go and was struck by how much he was going to miss her. Jensen leaned back against one of the large columns and waited until she disappeared into the sea of people coming and going before finally leaving the terminal.

Once he was back in his truck, he took note of the time and decided it was now or never. He pulled out his phone and brought up Dee’s contact, and hit the call button. It took only two rings for her to pick up, and she was already wide awake and overly exuberant answering the call.

“Hi, Jensen!” she said before he could even draw in a breath. “This is such a nice surprise!”

He chuckled as pleasantly as he could. “Hi, Dee. How’s it going?”

“Good! Just getting ready to leave. I have an early call today, so, thought I’d get a jump on the day. You’re rarely up this early, what’s going on?”

“Oh nothing, just heard you were in town and thought maybe we could meet up for coffee today. Catch up a bit.” He tried to keep his voice as even-keeled as possible, but the frustration he felt towards her was slowly winning out. “If you’re free that is.”

“I could be! Especially to have coffee with you. Around one ok?”

“Yeah, perfect. Name the place.”

“There’s a cool little cafe around the corner from where we’re filming today, called Cuppa. They have this amazing Brazilian blend, you’ll love it!”

“Sound great. Meet ya there round one,” he replied, not wanting to get roped into small talk. “I gotta run, but, uh, have a good day on set and I’ll see ya then.”

“Ok! I’m so excited! So, glad you called, by--”

Jensen hung up and tossed the phone aside, his features set in a scowl. He had a few hours where he could calm down and recenter himself before seeing her. He’d promised Y/N he wouldn’t be too harsh, but there were a few things he was itching to say. Jensen had never been the kind of guy to be purposefully cruel, and it was going to take a lot of willpower on his part to stay that way. But… Y/N asked, so he had to try.

Later that afternoon, he found himself sitting in the back corner of the terrace at Cuppa. Dee was right, the Brazilian blend was great and he made a note to get some for his place. At least this wouldn’t be a total waste of time, he thought as he brought the mug to his lips.

Just as he was setting it back down, Dee appeared from inside the cafe and found him in the quiet nook of the patio. He stayed in his chair instead of standing as a gentleman should, and watched her through narrowed eyes as she nearly floated across terrace.

“Hey,” she smiled brightly, before pulling out a chair to join him. She re-adjusted her oversized-brim hat and rested her clutch on the table. “You look great! How have you been?”

“Not bad. Yourself?” Jensen asked, trying to soften the way he was looking at her, but it was a hard thing for him to control now that she was actually there in front of him. The sight of this one woman, someone he used to love and care for so much, was now making him feel anger and regret. It was an odd sensation because so much of her was the same--from the wide-brimmed hat she wore to the color of her lipstick--she was physically so familiar. But emotionally, she felt incredibly different and Jensen was struggling to understand how he had loved her the way he did.

“Oh you know, livin’ the dream,” she chuckled.

The waitress came around and took her order. Jensen told her he was fine, and she went off to retrieve Dee’s request.

“I was so surprised to get your call today! I mean, it was a great surprise, just unexpected. Figured you would be getting ready to leave for Vancouver.”

“I am, in a couple days, actually. I just heard you were in town and like I said, wanted to catch up. How’s, uh… what was his name again? Greg? Gordon?”

“Grayson. And, we broke up,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “It just wasn’t working out.”

“Ohh,” Jensen said with a frown. “That’s too bad.”

“It is,” she sighed, and looked up at him from under the brim of her hat with sad, wide eyes.

She knew just how to look at him to get the maximum response. Back when they were together, she could use this same look a million different times to get what she wanted. All she would have to do is look at him as she was then, pout her lip and he’d cave to her. Not now. Not anymore.

The waitress appeared at the table and placed Dee’s coffee before her, then asked if they needed anything else before walking away.

“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you,” he said, unsure of when he wanted to segway into why he really called her here. Part of him wanted to see how long she could go on this way, batting her eyes and trying to be sweet; part of him wanted to let her know that this was never going to happen. Part of him wanted to really make her understand that he wasn’t going to put up with her drama. And if that meant he had to be firmer than he would like…

“...Jensen?” Dee said, waved her hand in front of his face. “You still with me?”

“Hmm?” he asked, snapping out of the fog of thoughts that clouded him. “Yeah, sorry, drifted for a minute. You were saying?”

“Just that… I should have known Grayson wasn’t right for me. I was so stupid…” she trailed off, pouting her bottom lip slightly and allowing her eyes to fill with regret.

Jensen nearly choked on his coffee, but recovered and placed the cup back to the table. “Well, you know everything happens for a reason, Dee.”

“It does,” she said and leaned across the table to cover his hand with hers for a tender moment before leaning back in her chair. “It really does. That’s why I was so happy you called me today. I was really hoping to see you so we could do just what we’re doing. Catch up, talk face to face. Maybe…” she trailed off again and shrugged timidly.

“Maybe, what?” he asked.

“See more of each other, I’m hoping.”

Jensen let her request hang in the space between them. He leaned his elbows on the table, and reached across for her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. He knew if he gave her enough time, she’d give him the perfect opportunity to say his peace.

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s not gonna happen,” Jensen replied in his most condescending tone and yet continued to hold her hand, but in no way that could be construed as loving or sweet. “You see, I am already seeing someone and last night, you called her. You had the nerve to tell her to back off from me. This, just two days after you were telling Gen that you wanted us to get back together.” Jensen bent his head to the side slightly and smiled, but there was no humor behind it.

Dee’s expression fell as she slowly pulled her hand out of his. The radiant smile she had been wearing broke into pieces as Jensen’s quiet admonishing continued.

“You had the balls, to call Y/N, tell her to stay away, that she was out of her league. Then--”

“I know what I said,” Dee bit back, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Did you think she wouldn’t tell me?”

Dee shrugged again and averted her eyes. “I was pissed, okay? I saw you two at the Jazzfest and it pissed me off. I was drinking and I made a phone call. Sue me.”

“You know, I may have bought that, but it wasn’t the first call though, was it? You’ve been calling Y/N, on and off, for weeks. This is just the first time she picked up.”

Dee didn’t respond, she just sat and stewed, feeling her anger grow each time she heard Jensen say Y/N’s name.

“Oh, but how she spoke to me on New Year’s, that was okay?”

“That whole night is a little fuzzy for me still, but from what I do remember, she tried to be civil.”

“Oh, well, good for her,” Dee scoffed and drank her coffee, if for no other reason then to have something to do besides getting chastised by him.

“What I don’t get is, why? What the hell do you gain from this? Why would you tell Gen--”

“How do you even know about that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dee. What matters is your delusional enough to think any of this would work. We’re done. You left. Eventually, I got over it.”

Dee leaned into the conversation and lowered her voice, biting back at him. “YOU were supposed to propose. You had the ring! But then, what? Chickened out? I did what I did because I thought it would help you along to finally make it official. It was supposed to be you and me forever! But no, you had to go and meet someone else!”

Jensen sat up straighter, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. “What the HELL are you talking about? Who said I had a ring?!”

“A friend of mine saw you in the jewelry store. She said you left with a ring box,” Dee replied smugly. “If you had just proposed… none of this would have happened. We wouldn’t have missed out on a year together,” she hissed and sat back in her chair again.

“Wait a fucking minute…” Jensen paused to collect himself, afraid if he didn’t that the other patrons would get quite a show. “... are you telling me you left me for that guy, solely to provoke me into proposing? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know what that did to me? You leaving, without a fucking word?” With each thought, his temper was rising along with the volume of his words. “Do you care what that did? NO! ‘Cause why would you?!”

“Jensen… I…” she stammered, taken back by the height of his anger.

“Yeah, go ahead, I dare you to try and justify anything. Just for the record, I did have a ring. I bought one two months before you left. I never gave it to you because I wasn’t sure if you were the right one. Something in my gut told me to wait… best fucking decision I ever made. Wanna know why? Because you leaving me, led me to a woman that doesn’t play games. She doesn’t fuck with people’s feeling for sport. She’s good and genuine, and kind. I’ll be damned if I will let you fuck with her, too!”

Jensen stood from the table and reached for his wallet to leave money for the coffee. He stopped and put it back in his back pocket. “You know what, buy your own damn coffee.” He started to walk away but hesitated and turned back, leaning down so his lips were only a few inches from her ear.

“If I find out that you came within ten feet of Y/N, or that you tried to contact her again in any way--or me for that matter--I promise that you will be sorry that you ever met me. Got it?”

Dee straightened her back and turned to face him. Their eyes were locked, and Jensen’s lips snarled into a warning smile when he saw the utter indigence on her face. “Don’t push me, Dee. You won’t like how I react.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” she replied flatly. When he turned to walk away, she didn’t bother looking over her shoulder. She knew he would leave without looking back.

Dee waited at the table for a few minutes, casually drinking her coffee, rattled by the conversation that just took place. She did her best to collect herself before reaching into her clutch and pulling out her phone. She searched her contacts, found who she was looking for and hit call. Two rings, and he answered.

“Hey, it’s Dee. I need you to do some digging for me,” she paused and waited for him to reply. “Yes, the name is Y/F/N L/N, all I know is she’s from Seaside, New Jersey. Call me back with what you find out.”

Dee ended the call, drained the rest of the coffee from her cup and rose from the table just as the waitress returned. As she left Cuppa’s garden terrace and made her way back to the set, all the kinds of ideas were starting to come to mind. Some she thought were doable, others may be taking it too far. All she knew then, is that she wasn’t completely done with Y/N yet.

A month of travel, twelve-hour work days and unending conference calls had left Y/N tired, cranky and ready for a vacation. The work that was starting to pile up was overwhelming, and while she had a supportive team of people around her, it was still adding up to be more then she could handle.

In a momentary breakdown, she called on two of the people she knew she could count on, that wasn’t currently filming in Vancouver. Jensen’s schedule had been impossible to try and get around, and she refused to spend the time she did have on the phone with him complaining about how much work there was. Thankfully, Briana and Mama both answered her distress call and after a little bit of rearranging, were due to arrive in Austin the next day. They both insisted on getting themselves to the townhouse, so Y/N wasn’t running back and forth from the airport. For once, she didn’t try to fight them on it.

Y/N wasn’t exactly surprised that they became fast friends, as they were similar in so many ways. Watching them interact was the kind of entertainment that Y/N didn’t realize she needed at that moment. The first night the three of them spent in the townhouse, working, laughing, eating and drinking, was the best help Y/N could have received; both for relieving the stress of work, and the emotional support provided.

The hours ticked by and when the first bottle of wine had been finished, Y/N went down to the kitchen to grab the second bottle. As she was rifling through the drawer for the corkscrew, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She fished it out and saw Jensen’s name on the screen.

“Hey there stranger,” she greeted, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder while continuing to search for the gadget. “How’s it going?”

“Not too bad, how’s things back home?”

“Oh you know, a hot mess. But at least Bri and Mama are here to wallow in it with me.”

“Bri and Mama are in the same room and I’m missing it? That seems wildly unfair,” Jensen groaned.

“You have no idea. Rehearsals tomorrow should be a hoot,” she chuckled and finally found what she was looking for. “You guys done for the day?”

“Nah, just taking a dinner break. I wanted to tell you there was a slight change of plans.”

She froze mid uncorking and sighed. “Oh no… what?”

“Nothing bad,” he laughed. “Jared’s party… not August. They had to shuffle some things around so it's weekend after next.”

“Wait… that means you’ll be back before Comic-Con, then?” Y/N felt a burst of excitement flood her chest. “Really?”

Jensen laughed softly. “Yeah, really. In fact, I should be back by early next week. So, maybe we plan that second date. Whatcha say?”

Y/N bit down on her lower lip and inhaled deeply, trying to be suave and cool when really she wanted to flail and scream with all the pent up giddiness he stirred in her.

“Well, I haven’t found my grass skirt yet, but I am sure I can make that work.”

“Atta girl, Trix. So now, what’s this about rehearsals tomorrow?” he asked in a low, playful voice. “What kind of rehearsals are we talking about? Seems a little early for rehearsals, no?”

“Well, with Mama here, we’re going to head over to the Rollins Studio Theater tomorrow night, and run through a few things. She can see the layout of the stage, meet the musicians and stuff like that. Bri is going to stand in for one of the other girls and we have a couple local dancers coming from the troupe I found here.”

“Are you singing?”

“In the routine, yeah, I am. Mama’s condition to bring the troupe out was that I do a number with them. She’s dyyyying to direct me for a change, so this should be a whole lotta fun. I’m sure she’ll want me to do something tomorrow, but I am going to try and talk her out of it.”

“Yeah, you know that won’t happen. And, what’s worse is, I’m missing it. Have I said that this is incredibly unfair?”

“Once or twice…” she giggled. “Hey… Jay?”

“Yeah?”

A loud burst of laughter came from above, followed by two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. Y/N sighed softly and knew that she’d have to cut the call short.

“I’m really glad you’re coming back early. I miss you,” she mumbled the last bit, wanting desperately to tell him how much, but just glad she was able to say it at all. Despite how well their date went, not seeing him for nearly a month was making some old anxieties settle in.

“I miss you too. Promise, you’ll see me soon.”

“Gonna give me that boy scout salute bullshit again?” she laughed.

“Nah. I’ve moved on to pinky promises,” he teased.

Mama and Bri appeared in the kitchen and stopped when they saw Y/N on the phone. Both with their brows raised in curiosity, then whispering to each other followed by hushed giggles.

“Well, I have an audience now, so I’ll let you go. Talk soon?”

“Absolutely. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you can tell me all about your pajama party. Night, Trix.”

“Night, Jay.”

Y/N ended the call and slowly put it back in her pocket before meeting their inquisitive gaze.

“Well?!” Bri whined.

“Well, what?” Y/N laughed nervously and went back to opening the wine.

“Oh no, you are not gonna play coy with us, girlie. Pour the damn wine and then spill your damn guts. Miss Bri and I were just talkin’ upstairs and agreed it’s been way too long since you gave either of us an update.”

“Life’s been a smidge busy,” she said just as the cork finally popped.

“I couldn’t care less how busy you’ve been. Last we sat and talked about Mr. Dreamy was way back in January, and you made me a promise. Did you fulfill it?”

“What promise?” Bri asked, looking excitedly between Y/N and Mama.

Mama raised her thick brows inquisitively. “Well, you gonna tell the girl or am I?”

“Fine. Mama made me promise to come back here and tell Jensen that I was interested,” she replied quickly, hoping for no follow-ups, but knew she would be disappointed.

“Annnd…” Mama prodded. “There was something else in that promise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “And kiss him.”

“Ohhhh…” Bri giggled and excitedly clapped her hands. “Well, Mama, I am happy to report that she kept her promise. Saw it with my own two eyes!”

“Oh Lordy, thank ya, Jesus!” Mama raised her hands to the sky and bowed her head. “And.... now, tell me all about it.”

“Mama…”

“No, now you listen. That boy is downright delicious. You can’t tell me that you kissed him and not give details,” Mama said, crossed her arms over her ample bosom and turned to Briana for support.

“Boy is he…” Bri mused and then cleared her throat. “And Mama’s right… I mean I saw that sweet little kiss at the bar, but I know you two went out to Jazzfest and I’m not real happy I didn’t get an immediate phone call when you got home.”

Y/N flashed to the call and subsequent brief drama with Dee. Deciding to leave that out, for the time being, she apologized. “I’m sorry. It was late and I had to leave early the next day.”

“Please tell me you invited him in…” Mama pleaded but could see by Y/N’s expression it was her turn to be disappointed.

“Are we going back upstairs? Cause I could really use some of this wine now,” Y/N said and exhaled deeply.

When neither Bri nor Mama turned for the stairs, Y/N grabbed three fresh wine glasses from the cabinet and filled them halfway. She drank two big gulps of hers and could feel both sets of eyes on her as she did.

“No,” she managed to squeak out after finishing most of the wine. “He didn’t spend the night.”

“Jesus wept,” Mama moaned and pulled out one of the island stools. “What in heaven’s name were you thinkin’?”

Y/N was quiet. She didn’t know how to answer, exactly. When she didn’t respond at all, Mama kept going.

“Suga, you gotta stop being so scared and let the man in. I’m glad you two are finally gettin’ on the right path, but you gotta be bold. Take the initiative. Ask the man to spend the--”

“June!” Y/N barked suddenly, catching Mama off guard.

“Using my Christian name… that’s my sign to shut up…” Mama explained to Briana in a hushed tone.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I know… okay? You don’t think I want to sleep with him? Ask him to spend the night? Of course, I do! I like him, a lot. I want that to happen… but…”

“But what, honey?” Bri asked, and lovingly laid a hand on top of Y/N’s.

“I’m scared.” Y/N felt her entire body fill with relief at the admission. Scared didn’t begin to cover it really. There was a whole host of emotions that began to flow at the thought of being more intimate with Jensen. That kind of vulnerability seemed like pressure she wasn’t completely ready for.

“After what you’ve been through, I can understand that completely,” Mama said. “But you use fear as a cloak to shield yourself. You can’t do that forever.”

“No, but I can take it off slowly.”

“Touché. But… allow me to play devil’s advocate… this man likes you, clearly. You want him just as much. What’s it gonna take for you to trust him enough, to let this guard of yours down?”

“It's down, trust me. I’m just not ready to bare everything, okay? I know we have this crazy chemistry, I feel it every damn time the man looks at me. But, what if we sleep together and he’s disappointed. Being with someone like him…” Y/N snorted a laugh and refilled her glass, promptly taking a large gulp. “His ex… I hate the woman but damn, she’s… she’s gorgeous and worldly, and... I can’t live up to that.”

“Honey…” Bri started and stopped when Y/N’s expression pleaded with her to do so. She held her hands up in relent but continued with another thought. “Trust me when I tell you, Jensen is the most regular guy you’ll ever know. He’s just some down-home boy, who likes to play music, make people laugh, cleans up real nice and just wants to love all over you. He’s not anything like what most people perceive him to be.”

“I know that,” Y/N replied quietly, keeping her eyes glued to her glass while her fingers toyed with the stem.

“Ok. So then, what is it really?” Bri asked, trying to encourage her to open up and talk through whatever it was she needed to. “Because let me tell you, I don’t care who he was within the past, he’s only got eyes for you right now.”

Y/N looked up and met their gazes. She felt the sting of emotion at the corner of her eyes and furrowed her brow trying to decide if she could actually say the words that came forth in response to Briana’s question.

“Because, if we sleep together, that’s it, I’ll be gone. I’ll fall in love with him and then everything will fall apart.” A stray tear or two fell, but she was able to keep her emotions in check.

Bri put an arm around her and rested her head on her shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what I’m afraid of. And for as far as Jensen and I have come, as much as I care about him and trust him; part of me is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Y/N, you listen to Mama now, okay?” Mama said, leaning across the counter and squeezing her hand. “No matter what comes at you, you can handle it. And if the other shoe does drop, well then, you let it go, put on your best stilettos and keep on fucking walking.”

“I just don’t know if I’m that brave, Mama. Look, I love you both for being so supportive, but honestly, I just want to get the work done and get some sleep. Talking about all this right now just feels overwhelming and tomorrow is going to be a long ass day.”

Mama and Bri exchanged a look of empathy for their friend when Y/N cast her eyes down to her fingers that were still fidgeting with the stem of the glass.

“Alright, Y/N. That’s alright by us. Come on, let’s get the bottle, another round of snacks and finalize these last minute changes, ok?” Bri hugged her a little tighter and got Y/N to smile.

“Yes, that I can do,” she said and swiped at the last tear that fell to her cheek. “That I can definitely do.”

The next day was more running around including meeting with the equipment rental representatives, dropping off some new plans to the city planner’s office, as well as swinging by the seamstress’ shop to pick up the dress Mama insisted Y/N wear when she performs with The Corsettes. Once the trio had completed all the tasks and had a quick lunch at Salty Sow, Y/N brought them over to the Rollins Theater and introduced them both to the local Burlesque troupe that agreed to join them on stage.

Mama was in her glory putting them on stage and talking with the musicians that came to sit in to play for the rehearsal. While she was putting her magic into action, Y/N brought the dress and accessories back to the dressing rooms, with Bri following close behind her.

“How ya feeling today, honey? Any better?”

“As far as…?”

“Just overall stress. I know you’re feeling the pinch of things, so if you need to delegate anymore work, I’m here for it. I cleared everything, booked myself a luxurious room and I’m staying in town til after Jared’s party. So use and abuse me, okay?”

Y/N chuckled and hung the dress up on the back of the door. “You’re amazing and I’d be lost without you,” Y/N smiled and hugged her friend. “I promise I will delegate. But I feel okay at the moment. I guess I’m just tired… it’s been a long few weeks.”

“Weeks? Try months, but yeah, it has been especially for you. You are kicking some serious ass with all this. You know that, right?”

Y/N shrugged. “I guess. I mean everything is on schedule, I think. Event planning isn’t exactly my forte, and I tried explaining that to Jensen when we first met, but…. you know him.”

“I do. Get an idea in that man’s head and it’s impossible to deter him.”

“Exactly. Stubborn as a mule, that one.”

They both had a good laugh at that, as Bri walked over to unzip the garment bag. “Holy mother of shit!” she exclaimed as she carefully removed it from the bag. “This is what you’re wearing?!”

Y/N nodded. “Mama insisted.”

“Well? Let’s see it on ya!” Bri said, more than a little giddy as she removed it from the hanger. “Here, you get dressed, I’ll go see if she’s ready for you.”

“Nooo, no. This is for dress rehearsals. Tonight is just the start of her putting a routine together now that she’s seen the stage. I just brought it in--”

“To try on and walk your cute little ass out on the stage. I will accept no other answer,” Bri interjected. “Now, please,” she sang cheerily but with that tone of ‘you best just do it’.

“And they call me bossy,” Y/N mumbled, then winked at Bri when she gave her that chastising raise of her brow.

“Five minutes, or I come and find you…” Bri warned as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

“Yes ma’am,” Y/N chuckled and waited until she was gone to let her smile fade away.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and took a few deep breaths. The last couple of weeks had felt overwhelmingly hard, and she wasn’t sure why. Yes, there was a lot to do, and yes, she was doing most of it on her own now that more than half her team was working in Vancouver; but it was more than just that.

It was everything; Nathan showing up, Dee’s interference, Jensen’s… presence. She found it hard to focus on everything she needed to when really all she wanted to do was just take off with him to somewhere quiet and deserted; where it could just be the two of them and they could finally have peace and time to explore what it could be like being together.

Peace and time brings peace of mind, her mind sang out unprompted. It was her father’s mantra, especially when he was a few beers in and wallowing in his despair. He would repeat it to himself over and over when he was trying to ‘right the ship’, as he would say.

“Dad, help me out here,” Y/N whispered to the empty room. “I just need some kind of sign that this is right, that all of this… is where I’m supposed to be. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, daddy, and I’m scared. I don’t just mean the work, I’m talking about Jensen, too. Please…” she pleaded, closing her eyes and swallowing hard. “Just the smallest hint of a sign…”

The room was silent, not that she expected anything different but she wished for it harder than she’d ever wished for anything before. A few minutes went by before she was finally able to pull herself up and change into the dress. She decided to forgo the accessories, for now, hoping that both Mama and Bri would be appeased by at least seeing the dress on her.

As she made her way onto the stage, she exhaled slowly and adjusted the bodice of the dress. She was surprised by everything that had been done already and felt a little bit of relief knowing that so much was being handled without her having to oversee it all. The musicians were getting set, Mama and the dancers were huddled in a loose circle and getting to know each other, while Briana was sitting at the piano that was on stage left.

“Well damn, girl,” Bri said and whistled as she swung her legs to the other side of the piano bench. “You look amazing!”

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled. “Not the complete ensemble, but if you think my feet are getting in those boots tonight, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Just the dress is fine. Gonna be a few though till they’re ready to anything that we could help with,” Bri stood from the bench and motioned for Y/N to sit. “Why don’t you play something. See how the acoustics sound in here.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” she agreed and adjusted the dress so she could sit easier. “What should I play? You gonna sing for me?”

“No, not tonight. I’ll go up in the back row, see how it sounds. You sing whatever you feel, honey.” Bri gave her a wink, and it did not go unnoticed by Y/N that she turned and gave Mama a knowing glance, too.

Y/N felt like they were sharing some kind of secret, but pushed it aside for the time being. Y/N didn’t know what to play, really. She hovered her hands over the ivory keys and waited until she saw Bri pick a seat in the back of the theater and sit down.

Since they had become friends over the past six months, Y/N made it her mission to hear every song Briana had recorded and fell in love with each and every one. Something moved her to pick one of those songs, and her hands found the proper starting keys.

Y/N played the melody from Bri’s cover of “How Will I Know?”; maybe it was all the talk of being with Jensen, or maybe, a residual question left over from the earlier prayer she sent up to her father. Either way, that was the song that first came to mind, so that’s what she played.

When the first few notes from the piano filled the theater, then followed by the soft tone of her voice, everyone on the stage stopped what they were doing and turned to watch her play. She didn’t need the mic turned on that sat on top of the piano, her voice carried through to the back of the quiet theater easily.

“Oh, it's you, I know… You’re the one I dream of Looks into, my eyes, take me to the clouds above How I lose control, can’t seem to get enough When I wake, from dreaming, tell me is it really love…”

A couple of the musicians on the other end of the stage picked up the beat on drums and percussion, falling easily into the soft, rhythmic tempo of the piano. They kept the instrumentals mellow, while still adding more depth to her already rich tone.

Y/N closed her eyes and started getting lost in what she was singing. Her mind completely forgot about the people around her, as she sang the lines of the song more to herself than anyone else in the room.

“How will I know, if you really love me? I say a prayer with every heartbeat I fall in love whenever we meet I’m asking you, what you know about these things?”

“How will I know, if you’re thinking of me? I try to phone, but I’m too shy, can’t speak Falling in love, is so bittersweet This love is strong, why do I feel weak...”

She transitioned into the second verse, thinking about Jensen and all that has been happening around them, to them… and when the chorus came around again, she could feel herself sing the words with a break in her voice. Y/N was using the music to speak and expel the overall feeling of desperation to understand how she would know that everything would ultimately be okay with Jensen. That she could take that step and let him in completely without losing herself in the process.

Falling in love, is so bittersweet This love is strong, why do I feel weak...”

The last note fell from her lips, and with it, the weight of her question. Her fingers landed on the last two keys, and the moment the reverberation from them stopped, the small audience on the stage, and the one out in the theater applauded. The sound of it pulled Y/N out of her mental space and back to reality, where she finally noticed how many people had been watching her sing. She felt a rush of embarrassment flood her face, her cheeks burning hot with knowing there were at least twenty people scattered around the theater just saw her perform so raw.

Jensen watched from the vestibule of the theater.

The moment that he had hung up with her yesterday, he knew he needed to come home. He hadn’t planned on coming back until the morning of Jared’s party, but there was something he heard in her voice that went beyond her being tired or overwhelmed. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but something in his gut was telling him he needed to come back. Not just to help with her workload, or even to bear witness to Briana and Mama Mia meeting for the first time. Though, if he was being honest with himself, it was the cherry on the sundae.

He sped from the airport to reach the Rollins Theater before Bri said they were due to arrive, but of course, traffic got in his way. Once he finally got there, he quietly came in through the main doors, and that’s when he heard her voice. From the first note that touched his ears, he felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. There was something about the sound of her singing that always made him feel that way.

Jensen peeked in the one theater door that was propped open and saw her there at the piano. Everyone else that was on the stage had been frozen in place as she sang; just as he was there by the door.

“Hey!” Bri said in a rough whisper from his right side. When he turned, he saw her there mid-row, watching Y/N sing up on the stage. “You made it! Come sit!” She patted the seat beside her and Jensen made his way down the row of seats to meet her.

He bent down, kissed her cheek in greeting and sat on the plush red theater chair. “Did she find out I was coming?” he asked nervously.

“Nope, doesn’t suspect a thing. Thought you were gonna be here earlier.”

“Traffic,” he grumbled but didn’t remove his eyes from the stage. “What is she wearing?” His eyes widened with excitement when he realized she was in costume. He thought back to that first night when he went to the rehearsal at the Bamboo and how quickly smitten he had become with her. Now… he was far beyond smitten.

“Mama apparently is making her wear it for whatever routine she puts together. I saw it and made her put it on.” Bri giggled and lightly elbowed him in the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Jensen laughed softly and gave her a nod of appreciation, but didn't want to respond. He just wanted to listen to Y/N sing and get lost in the sound of her voice. The way each lyric projected from her lips, and the way her fingers brushed against the ivory, it was as if she were painting with sound. Her talent filled him with an enormous rush of feeling and as the song carried through the auditorium effortlessly, each word felt like magic to his ears. She was soulful and raw, and he found himself falling more and more in love with her.

That realization hit with a force that physically knocked him back; something that did not go unnoticed by Briana.

“You alright there, buddy?” she chuckled quietly. “You’re looking a little green. Jet lag got ya down?”

“N-No, it’s… “ his thoughts broke off and he went quiet.

Bri studied his face for a minute, and when she came to understand his wistful, yet petrified expression, she sat back and smiled wide enough to bring out her cavernous dimples.

“Well, ho-ly shit. Jensen Ackles… you look me in the eyes and tell me… do you love this girl?”

His attention snapped back to Bri, surprised at how easily she could read him. “What? No. Huh?” he scrunched his face and shook his head, stuttering any response that tried to leave his mouth. When he turned back to the stage, and once again heard her voice, he knew he couldn’t even pretend to hide it anymore. This time, when Jensen turned back to Bri, he simply nodded.

Briana’s larger than life smile faded into something softer, and she put her arm around his shoulder. “You gonna tell her?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly. “Not yet. I need time to sit with it. Make sure its… real.”

Just then, Y/N finished the song. The last couple notes reverberated off the plush walls of the theater prompting the people on stage to applaud. Bri stood and did the same enthusiastically before she shuffled behind the seats and down the aisle. Jensen stood from his seat and slowly made his way out of the row and down the aisle towards the stage.

He watched as the recognition of his presence hit her. For him it felt like slow motion; from seeing her smile as their eyes locked, to her moving in his direction, he watched her and the flutter of excitement came alive in his stomach. Jensen didn’t realize how much he needed to see her. After a month of just phone calls and FaceTime, the idea that he could touch her again was bordering on overwhelming. He wanted to grab her and kiss her, sweep her up off her feet; but given their audience, kept his need to touch her in check

“What are you doing here?!” she asked, through a wide, cheeky grin. “You’re supposed to be in Vancouver!”

“Guy can’t change his plans--” he was interrupted by Y/N throwing her arms up around his neck and embracing him tightly.

Time seemed to stop for a second. Jensen hugged her back with all he had and relished in the scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, and how easily she fit into his arms like that last, perfect piece of the puzzle. He could feel her body relax into his and felt like he could close his eyes and stand there just holding her forever.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered before loosening her grip on him and pulling back just enough to leave a kiss on his cheek.

“I am too,” he rasped so only she could hear, before taking her by the hand and taking a step back to take in the costume she was wearing. “Boy am I glad I came home,” he said. “I would have been very upset to miss this…. Look at this dress!” He whistled with approval.

“Tell me she doesn’t look like an absolute treat in that!” Mama bellowed from the stage.

“Damn straight she does,” he said and winked at Y/N, then turned his attention to the tall, voluptuous, older woman on the stage. “Well, well, now there’s the woman I’ve been waiting to see!” Jensen called up to her. “Be right back,” he whispered to Y/N before heading up to see her.

Mama left a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek and hugged him so tight Jensen thought his back might crack. “It’s so good to see you, Mama,” he said when she finally let him go. “Glad you’re in town. Hope Y/N took you around to see the sights.”

“She’s workin’ on it for sure. Quite the city you got yourself. I can see why Y/N fell in love with it,” Mama said and glanced at Y/N with a soulful smirk. “In fact, I was planning on meeting up with some friends of mine that live in the area and taking in some sites tomorrow. So you’re timing is impeccable!” Mama pinched his cheek playfully.

“I’m doubly glad I made it time then,” Jensen chuckled. “So what are you thinking of doing here? Gonna get this one back up on stage?” He motioned his head towards Y/N who had rejoined them on the stage.

“Oh, darlin’, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t blackmail her into singin’ at least one song tonight. I got the number down, but just need to teach this talented lot the moves.” Mama shimmied her hips, causing a roar of hoots and hollers from the small gathering of dancers behind her. “Whatcha say you go grab a seat and I’ll get this group ready to go!”

“Sounds damn good to me!” he said with a wide grin.

Mama turned back to the band. “Y’all said you know ‘Can’t Say No’ so let’s roll with that one!”

Jensen went to walk off stage, leaving the matronly diva to do her thing and paused to where Y/N was standing near the piano. He took her hand and gave it a tender squeeze, before pulling her closer to leave a kiss on the top of her head. “Break a leg,” he whispered.

The way she smiled at him then--her lips pursed together, one corner of her mouth tugging up into a smirk--made him feel physically weak in the knees. Jensen felt like there was something different in the way her eyes danced when she looked at him; he couldn’t help but wonder if she was coming to some of her own realizations, too.

For now, he tried to let it go and remember that they weren’t alone and that he needed to sit with the feeling for a while. A moment later, he was sitting in the front row and watching Mama put everyone in their places. She sent Y/N off stage left and another woman off stage right. The band was warming up, various instruments playing various notes and Jensen wondered how any of them could truly concentrate on what they were doing. Finally, they found their pitch and quieted, before Mama counted the band off to start the number.

The music began, and the minute Y/N stepped on the stage to start singing, Jensen’s phone began to ring. He quickly reached into his pocket to silence it, regardless of who was calling, so he wouldn’t disturb the rehearsal. But across the screen flashed SAFEGATE, the security company who installed the alarm at the townhouse. He got up, answered the call, and swiftly walked up the aisle towards the vestibule of the theater.

“Hello?” he answered when he was clear of the auditorium.

“Hello, Mr. Ackles?”

“Yeah, this is he. What’s going on?”

“We’re calling to let you know that the alarm has been triggered at the property located at 87 North Piedmont Point. We’ve notified the local authorities and they are currently en route.”

“Oh, shit. Ok. Thank you, I’m on my way.”

Jensen’s body tensed, and he felt his gut lurch. ‘It’s a false alarm,’ he kept telling himself. ‘No big deal, it’s just a false alarm…’ He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, trying to calm whatever was prompting the feeling of dread that was washing over his current mantra.

From behind him, the theater door creaked open, and he realized the music from the stage had stopped.

“Hey,” Y/N said, stepping into the vestibule. From inside the theater, the music started up again. “What’s going on? I saw you run out. Is everything okay?”

“Uh, I don’t know. That was the security company. Apparently, the alarm was triggered at the townhouse. I’m going to head over there now. I’ll call you--”

“The fuck you will. That’s my home, Jensen. I’m going with you.”

“Y/N--”

“No. Wait here, two minutes. Let me change and tell the girls. I’m coming, and I swear if you leave without me…” she drew in a deep breath and was ready to give him what for, but he held his hands up in relent.

“Go change. I’ll be right here, waiting.”

Within ten minutes, Y/N and Jensen were in his truck and headed towards her home. Neither of them talked, both nervous about what they were going to find at the house. As Jensen pulled into the development, and circled around towards home, flashing blue and red lights could be seen reflecting off of windows and trees. The driveway and curb were blocked by several police cars, forcing Jensen to pull over and park a few houses down. Once out of the truck, Y/N took his hand and squeezed it tight as they nearly jogged down the sidewalk towards the activity.

By the time they reached the front lawn, they could see the front door was open, and cops were walking in and out. Jensen could feel Y/N’s nerves grow, and when one of the officers began to approach them, she tightened the grip she had on his hand.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, this is a crime scene,” the officer said, holding his hand up to stop them.

“This is my home,” she breathed, clearly panicked. “What happened? What triggered the alarm?”

“It appears someone broke in, ma’am. If you could just wait here--”

“Are they still in there? Did you catch who did it?” Jensen interrupted angrily.

“And you are?” the officer asked indignantly.

“He’s with me,” Y/N bit back defensively. “Can I please go inside? How bad is it?”

“Alright, if you could both just calm down for a minute,” he said. “To answer your question, sir, no, whoever broke in is long gone. Let me just check with the detective to make sure it’s clear for you to enter and you can go in to grab a few necessities. No way you’re going to want to stay here tonight.”

Jensen’s stomach bottomed out, and by how pale Y/N seemed, he thought hers did too. Jensen released her hand and embraced her as the officer turned and sought out the lead detective. He held her to his chest, and she put her arms around his waist.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be--”

“You can go on in,” the officer called from several feet away. “I’ll bring ya through so you can get what you need.”

Jensen felt her swallow hard and then peel herself off his chest. He sighed, and took her hand again, leading her towards the front door. The minute they walked, he heard her gasp. The mess in the kitchen alone was staggering. Walking slowly through the first floor, Jensen found himself in the living room, standing behind Y/N with his hands on her shoulders as they surveyed the damage. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to push down all the anger and rage he felt at whoever had the nerve to do this.

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#Jensen Ackles RPF #Jensen Ackles x Reader Insert #Jensen Ackles x you #Jensen Ackles x reader #Jensen ackles fanfics #spn rpf

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stenchofthesea-absenceofgreen · 4 years

Text

Well This Is Awkward

me?? contributing to a fandom??? holy shit yall

i wrote up a quick little idea I’ve had about Vespa and Buddy’s first meeting - i think two criminals meeting and lowkey falling for each other in the middle of two different jobs with the same target is *chef’s kiss* so... here you go. tw for alcohol and non-con drug use (buddy drugs a guard in a club, nothing graphic)

(read it here on AO3)

Let it never be said that Buddy Aurinko couldn’t dazzle a room. From the sleazy bars of the Outer Rim to the swanky parties of the Solar elite, Buddy could charm a Venusian two-headed porcupine if it got her closer to her next paycheck. Right now, though, the target was much less spiny but no less dangerous - a young diplomat from Earth on vacation to a party moon orbiting Saturn. The diplomat xyrself posed no real threat, except maybe to mommy’s credit card bills, but the two bodyguards would be more of a challenge. Luckily, mommy’s credit card was exactly what Buddy was after. After all, if the governor of New New York could afford to keep raising taxes on her poorest citizens, surely she could afford a few of Buddy’s resupply trips.

Buddy held an empty champagne flute loosely in one hand, then stumbled and tripped her way through the crowd to where the diplomat was at the bar enjoying a drink swirling with half a dozen different colors. “‘Scuse me, sorry - oh goodness, darling, terribly sorry,” she slurred apologies and finally reached the bar, using the pressure of the packed nightclub to get closer to the bodyguard than would normally have been allowed. The hulking woman gave Buddy a quick once-over and then went back to scanning the crowd. A professional, then. No matter. Buddy giggled drunkenly and leaned over the bar to wave to one of the bartenders with her not-quite empty champagne glass. On one particularly clumsy wave, she dropped a small, clear capsule from her glass into the glass of water on the bar by the first bodyguard. A rather unfortunate “malfunction” had disabled the air conditioning ten minutes ago and the temperature was already climbing. Buddy saw the sweat beading on the bodyguard and waited. Within a minute, the bodyguard turned and grabbed the water - the capsule fully dissolved, thank the stars - and took several gulps. Excellent. Buddy ordered another drink and pretended to check her comms, dancing in place to the thumping music. Several more minutes passed and then she saw it - the twitch of discomfort in the bodyguard. A hand on the stomach, no doubt rolling with nausea. She turned and signalled to the other bodyguard before making a beeline for the restrooms. Buddy used the motion of the crowd to slide closer and brush against the diplomat.

“Oh! Aha, I'm so sorry, Mx.-?” Buddy fluttered her eyelashes and pouted just so.

Xyr eyes widened, first in surprise but then in enchantment. “Ah, my name is Mx. Isodore Naolin.” Xe collected xyrself and offered Buddy a hand to shake, of all things. “And who might you be? It’s not often I get to meet someone so beautiful, I simply must have your name!”

Buddy took the proffered hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a chaste kiss to xyr knuckles, watching the spreading blush on tan cheeks. “You can call me Lyra Sultan if you like.”

After that, it was almost too easy to charm her way to a back room, away from the remaining bodyguard, with an eager young diplomat in tow. She was just getting ready to palm xyr wallet when the lights went out.

“Hey, what- ack!” After the sounds of a brief scuffle, the diplomat’s words were cut off with a choke. Just as Buddy was pulling out her comms for any kind of light, the main lights flickered and turned back on.

There was another person in the room.

Specifically, a woman.

More specifically, a green-haired, scowling woman currently choking out a diplomat to Earth.

“Wait! Stop!” Buddy cried.

The woman turned the fierce scowl to Buddy and Buddy felt her heart skip a beat. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, dark eyes a woman could get lost in, and wiry muscles to back up the rather serious “don’t fuck with me” vibes. She didn’t loosen the chokehold but she was hesitating and Buddy was eager to get the business out of the way to pursue this... new line of inquiry.

She swallowed against her suddenly dry throat and drawled, “I’m just after xyr wallet. I don’t care what you do with xem after that.”

The woman scoffed. “Yeah, right. What, you think I’m gonna let you get close? Why don’t you just buzz off, lady, or else you’re next. Me and Mx. Naolin are goin’ on a little trip and you won’t like the destination.”

Oh Buddy wouldn’t let this woman slip away so easily. “I’ll give you a third of my cut if you like, in return for your timely help. Like I said, I couldn’t care less what you do with xem, I’d just like what I came here for, darling.”

This gave the woman pause, but then she growled and deftly wrestled the diplomat to the ground. She held xyr hands in one of hers as xe snivelled. She found the wallet and tossed it to Buddy, who caught it with ease. A few keystrokes later and Buddy was a significantly richer woman. She looked back at the woman and held up her comms.

“I’ll need a name for the transfer, darling.”

The woman huffed and scowled but eventually muttered, “Ilkay. Vespa Ilkay.”

Vespa. The name swept through Buddy’s mind like a sandstorm. She wouldn’t forget that name any time soon. She transferred the credits with no problem, attaching her personal contact details as a note. Buddy gave Vespa a slow onceover and smiled like a cat that just got the cream. “Well, Vespa, darling, once you’re done with this little kidnapping, feel free to get in touch if you need another job. I have a feeling we could do great things together, and my intuition is never wrong.” She turned and sashayed to the door, savoring the matching looks of confusion on Vespa and the diplomat’s faces.

Just as she reached the door, Vespa called out, “Wait, what’s your name?”

Buddy tossed a smoldering look over her shoulder just to watch Vespa’s eyes widen.

“You can call me Buddy.”

#penumbra wlw week #tpp #buddy aurinko #vespa ilkay #my fic #penumbrawlwweek

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real-fanta-sea · 5 years

Text

Red thread trash - AU Trikey fanfic

Hey! I promised to upload my fanfic here as well - find it right below the “Keep reading” button. Let me know what you think about it - your feedback fuels me like anything else :) I included some minor hints of pop culture/literature every now and then and generally had a great time writing it even though it’s still short. I plan on updating it soon so if you like it, stay tuned :) Chapter 1 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense “You are sick, dickhead!” That was all she was able to spit out before shutting the door with such force all the yellowish photos on walls thumped the disgusting, bleached out wallpaper they were attached to. It was getting dark and a sharp sound sent shockwaves through creeping silence of the night. Tired street lamps gave out eerie orange light which sculpted everything in soft outlines and gave a fine monochrome touch to washed-out colours of the early evening. Dust, startled by the outburst, sat back on surfaces it originally sat on, creating a delicate icing on the ugly cake of an apartment it was in. It was full to the brim, filled with dying cacti in flower pots, virgin self-improvement books, some of them sealed in original plastic, action figures, statues, souvenirs from places so distant and abstract no one ever heard of them, old calendars and along with dozens of empty ball pens an assorted clutter of a bachelor. It was a miracle the small, one-room apartment did not explode with everything stored inside. On the wall next to the door, the landline phone decided to commit what it’s silent owner contemplated for years and fell down from the holder, and hit the ground with an ugly crunch. The sound made the owner snap from lethargy. Up to now, he only stood in the middle of the place, staring at the door emotionless.

He felt nothing but a gentle touch of the street light and bags under his eyes growing heavier. When he heard what happened to his world link, he blinked and with a sigh, he took a step forward and hanged the phone back to the holder, inspecting it only to find nothing broke so far. “There, there, not today- You’ll outlive me, little friend” he let out a raspy mumble and rub back of his neck with his other hand. He didn’t feel anything out of ordinary. His back hurt a bit from the lair of his improvised bed and his sedentary job - the latter was most likely the culprit there, but he wouldn’t admit it. His stomach rumbled angrily through the thin skin and onto the fabric of his shirt - two cups of ramen a day were not enough to shut it anymore. His nose was full again - and the dust irritated it as much as it annoyed him. Yet somewhere deep inside him, the void seized power a long time ago and he didn’t give a shit about any of these things anymore. For the life of his, he couldn’t bring himself to grieve the recent loss of a lover either. People always came and went, he thought to himself. People always used him. Cheated him. Played him and inevitably left him when he needed them the most. They left him miserable. Vulnerable. Hurt. He didn’t need nor want them anymore. He abided them. He just wanted them all to die a horrible, gruesome death and if possible, to watch the whole process from the first row, bathe in their cries and pleading and enjoy his utter shortage of fucks to give with a wide grin on his face. Aaand it would make the show so much fun if he got to sprinkle his popcorn with a bit of fresh blood! Hell, if he murdered his shrink first, he would help more people than that stupid jerk ever did in his life. Come to think of it... Suddenly, before he could slide any further on his twisted spiral of thoughts, there was a familiar pressure on one of his feet and a soft purr vibrating against his shin. He blinked the mental image of creatively mutilated psychologist away and eyed his pet with a soft smile. The tomcat which settled on his foot was one of the new members of the pack as he prefered to call his furry companions. It gave those obese fluffy balls of fur a feral glamour of feared predators they might have shared with their ancestors. In reality, his pack preferred the luxury of being fed three times a day and shedding hair on his sweatshirts while sleeping wherever they collapsed. The tiny apartment currently held six members including the human one. They were all flawed to perfection, collected from behind the bars and given a new life. John Silver, the tomcat, curled up securely on his master's barefoot, lack one paw to be a complete, light grey cat. He probably lost it in a scientific experiment which went tremendously wrong and accidentally involved an electric can opener and children of his previous master. He never meowed about it but other cats knew anyway. Then there was Jude Hardy, a brown cat who smelled so bad other hissed anytime at her anytime she came close and made her spend life under the kitchen sink. Johny Lemmon had shotgun scars visible through his tabby and white fur - he got them for meowing too loud. Somewhere under the blanket on a bed was a tabby named Ulysses who lost his tail and ear on his way home one day in an accident. Right beside him slept his sister Sybile who was terribly short-sighted and bumped to anything when she attempted walking around the flat. She was there when her brother was hit by the car but there was nothing she could do to prevent it as she didn't see it coming. The only human left in the pack was named Trevor Philips.

With a cat in his arms, he made his way through a maze of full bookshelves and sat heavily into an old armchair, fidgeting to find the perfect angle. Nothing could ever compare to a fuzzy feeling of love he shared with his pack. A soft touch of fur soothed him in a way his prescription pills would never do. Trevor raised his eyes from a purring bundle of joy he held and run his fingertips down its spine, scratching and gently stroking every now and then, completely lost in his own palace of thoughts again. There’s still a couple of hours left till next dose, he thought to himself. He vividly remembered the first week he was forced to medication - a wild roar of anger and disgust from being put on a schedule, from becoming a number not worth anything else but chemical alternation. He hated every touch of an old, naphthalene smelling nurse or the bull kind of a doctor who forced his jaw open to the point it snapped on one wonderful evening. He always had himself for a person not bound by any chains or rules. His persistence in breaking rules and spitting medicine was legendary. Heck, he did it for fun. It gave him all the attention he never had and fuck people who had to pay for it with their health of job. However, one day, he woke up a different person. The mighty, untamed creature he once was was gone, and the only memory it left were nail scratches on sterile white walls of his cell and a variety of body fluids mixed and smeared all over the ceiling in a brutal, honest impersonation of Michelangelo’s chapel. The day the beast went missing was a breaking point. The world he woke up to was void of bright colours. Every bit and piece of his existence felt detached, taken aback, abstract. He would always recall the feeling of cold liquid under his bare feet and a horrid smell that brought him to senses. He never asked the doctor how long he had stood in his own faeces nor did he ask why he pissed blood. He would never tell him. Instead, he got yet another dose of medicals. And he obeyed this time. And every time they came he accepted it. Trevor knew too well they broke him and shaped him like a piece of Tetris puzzle so he could fit in the line. He knew he lost himself in the process. But since he got separated, he couldn’t bring himself to care. And when they eventually let him out of the bright white hell, when they dressed him in a cheap second-hand suit and gave him a small place to live, he didn’t rebel. He obeyed. He followed the lead. He spoke to his shrink. He got a pet. He got a job. He drank water. He ate. He slept. He shat. The same fairy tale noir of a lonely life on repeat forever. He fit the line too well. Trevor let his hand slip from Silver’s back onto an armrest. Orange coloured light from outside mixed with neon from a place he could see through a narrow alley which led to his block of flats. A bright red, intrusive and obscene. A moth trap set up with fresh meet every week, he thought to himself. He eyed the place from his armchair and looked around. His last love interest came from that bar. All she left behind was a used toothbrush in a plastic cup on a kitchen sink, a pair of bob pins under the bed and lingering smell of cheap perfume piercing everything it touched with a brutal force. She was not that different from any other woman he ever knew. Each of them wanted money and stripped men of it by shaking their asses and burying faces into their sagging cleavages. Even if they did not admit it, be it high-class wive all glamour and chic or a grey mouse of an accountant in his shithole of a job, they all were miserable whores, bitches not worth a dollar yet they would surely kill for it if given a chance. They all wore insufferable perfumes and fake smiles that made his blood boil. Unfortunately, when he got a job as an assistant in a small branch of a Fleeca bank, he had no idea the place would be full of such creatures. He recalled the first day of work with a sigh, being yelled at for not bringing a latte for accountants, then for not fetching paper clips fast enough, and then again and again till he was let out in the afternoon, completely stripped of dignity and quite frankly, he didn’t even have the energy to sustain one at given time. Now that the fifth year of his atonement passed by, all he wanted was to burn the place down as a celebration. He hasn’t done it yet. His favourite coffee mug was there and he chose not to risk such a loss. The red light took over and illuminated his way when he carefully put Silver down and took a couple of careful steps towards an old cupboard and let it moan its screech into the night. With a light chuckle, he grabbed the colourful box realising they made his mind work in schedules and tech plans. He never put it on the same place two days in a row when he first came there. Now it had its fucking place right beside unused penis-shaped pasta he received in secret Santa game at work a couple of years ago. They had their place too. Never moved an inch. Trevor popped the lid and slid an elephant worth of pills into the palm of his. Funny how everything looks like candy a second before you start tripping balls. He knew the thrill too well. Fishing a dirty glass out of the sink, filling it with piss some still called water and swallow it like an obedient little bitch he was. Good, good. Let them keep you alive or let them kill you in ways which are not as fun as drugs. As he felt the chemicals taking rule over him, everything was good somehow. The room swayed. The colours exploded. He fell on the bed. Good. Good. Good.

#gtav #fanfic #alternative universe #trikey #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic

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incarnateirony · 5 years

Text

So anyway, life updates on what I’ve talked about good, bad, and vagueblog.

But I introduce you to Betty White, or the Millennium Falcon, name pending.

Most of yall know that I’m on disability, dealing with some massively janky medical issues that Alabama’s bottom-ranked health care system doesn’t even know how to cover, and my wifey blew a disc in her neck at work, essentially debilitating her, too, but also earning a small settlement. In scale of it, 25K -- 21 after lawyer fees -- isn’t really much to do anything with.

So we had already known we had to fix up and sell the house and thought, hey, the land value went up substantially out here, we can pocket and flip it and be hella good.

Until her father finally came out here and in long story short, found out that the inspector that ran through this house when my wife first bought it (during our breakup period YEARS ago) didn’t do his job and it’d be 20-30K worth of repairs to even sell this place at the value her loan is for, meaning we pretty much have to short sell it to get out from under it. I mean bad shit. Fire hazard wiring and rotting roof and siding element under shiny things that hid it that have clearly been deteriorating since long before the house got a lipstick job.

So we went and found an RV, because it’s time to go. We have to GO. We have to get out of this state. There’s nothing for us here. There’s no medical care, there’s no worker protections, being LGBT women we’re extra up a creek in the area, it’s just bad. So RV it was! But finding one in the now suddenly cramped budget with the house turning up bunk entirely was FUN.

But like a stroke of providence I happened to find a listing the day it was upgraded on what has been jokingly referred to by my friends as the Millennium Falcon of RVs.

It came from an older couple, almost 60, that had been RVing for a few years, and the thing was already used when they bought it. It’s a friggin 1994. It’s old, it’s Chonk. But it was a project RV they decided to start on and while it has a solid AF 454 engine in it,

they’ve over a few years put in just about New Everything. New transmission, new air brakes, new air bags, new radiator, new septic lines, new alternator, new battery, new steering and suspension, new new new new new. Modified backup camera that tracks engine temp/tire pressure/etc like modern dashes and stays on constantly instead of just when backing up. It has its little hijinks with the in-n-out stairs being funky and the generator is a funny little bit because they didn’t want to spend 8K+ on a generator for an old RV so they got one that’s an external mount, which I imagine is why it was having a hard time selling.

Atop that inside the wife went bananas and got rid of the shitty old wallpaper and painted it bright colors different on every wall, removed the space consuming fold out couch since they didn’t need an extra bed and installed an armoire-storage-couch-thing that takes up half the outter floor space, stuff like that.

This was their baby and they intended to keep this baby and did great work on this baby, and the second I saw it in the advert, I knew it, because the images weren’t all spit cleaned sales stuff, it was vacation images with their shit still hanging inside it and their party lawn with their sports teams and stuff and the shiny lights they added on it to make it a party bus like

So anyway it turned out they basically got conned into getting a newer shinier one and just wanted to get the fuck OUT of Alabama but because of the generator and age it wasn’t selling at market value which was about 15K even as old as it is, and had price gouged it down to *8500*

Thought it was too good to be true, got our old construction and mechanic friend go out out there and go over it with a fine toothed comb and this thing, as he put it “goddamn if I had the money, I’d buy it myself, what the hell, you ain’t gonna get anything better for that price, hell, you ain’t gonna get anything as good for the price” THEY JUST WANTED TO GET OUT OF ALABAMA. And I mean, MOOD, BIG MOOD.

In fact the money they were asking for was basically to pay off loans and costs on all the New Stuff they put into it to begin with.

Because of them basically gouging their asking price in half an old lady had come to see it same day and at first the husband was like WHOEVER GETS US THE MONEY FIRST but talking to us the wife was like HELL NO THAT OLD LADY COULD BARELY GET IN THE THING SHES JUST GONNA DRIVE IT DOWN TO FLORIDA AND LET IT ROT THIS IS OUR BABY THESE GIRLS NEED TO TAKE CARE OF IT AND THEY WILL and she ran interference through the weekend until our mechanic friend could go check it out.

You might ask “if you have a buttload of money why an RV” but in trying to get out of Alabama and all the way back to Oregon where I literally KNOW I can make it work out in life for us, for reasons that are a whole story unto themselves, the moving costs cross country alone for a uhaul would be expensive AF. Downpayments. Finding pet friendly apartments. And then whether it was portland or somewhere else we could get STUCK. And we’re tired of getting stuck. So we’re packing up our own FUCKING house that we FUCKING own outright that fucking NOBODY can take away from us and with NO payment obligations and FUCK THE SYSTEM.

So anyway this big fuckin honker the wife was like WHY ARE YOU SO COMFORTABLE DRIVING THIS to Shea, but Shea worked for both Uhaul and Hertz so like hauling bigassed trucks around was kinda her thing and she also worked horses so giant ass horse trailers, you name it. So she just got up in there like she belonged and next thing you know we’re doing 65 down the bendy ass mountain freeways of central alabama like we been doing it for years

PS when you are in a literal fucking house 65 feels like 90, I’m just letting you know that now.

We’re still at our house cuz we gotta get this properly under our own tag/insurance and get a tow for the car. It was funny though cuz experienced or not knowing it was OUR LITERAL HOUSE Shea started like GOTTA BE CAREFUL GOTTA BE CAUTIOUS GOTTA MAKE SURE NOBODY DUMB and it turned into GET OUT THE WAY FUCKERS I’LL WIN within the 120 mile haul back home. Like BITCH I’LL TAKE MY FOOT OFF THE GAS BUT I AINT GONNA TRY TO JACK RABBIT STOP THIS FUCKER SO YOU BETTER GET SOME GIDDYUP IF YOU GONNA MERGE YOU FRIGGIN HONDA

This beast only has 65K miles on it. And that sounds like a lot but for an RV that isnt S H I T. People are like, if you can find a used one under 100K you’re doing okay. Half of those miles are just taking it out for a jog because you’re supposed to drive it once every couple weeks to keep it from rusting out basically. They just safely drove it in like a tristateish area down here for a few years as you can see on the cabinet stickers and moved around to sports games and shit and had fun.

The bedroom is purple. The kitchen is blue and yellow. KJSDKJFSjk she was like “Fuck the 1990 floral wallpaper we updating, there’s extra paint in one of the storage bins if you wanna touch any of it up”

So that’s it. We’re gonna do some work with said mechanic friend on the AC and a few tweaky details and as said, gotta tag/insurance/tow but once we get that worked out, that’s it, that’s home starting in a few weeks.

We’re heading to Independence, Missouri first to touch base with my internet momma then swinging in Salt Lake City to meet old media friends like the folks at Arrowstorm and stopping to enjoy their stuff at Evermore Park before hitting Portland which, reasonably, I’ll guestimate we’ll be at like a week or two before Halloween but maybe we’ll make better time. If you’re en route to those destinations and wanna meet up, lemme know, we’re still gonna have fun on the way and try to record shit.

Portland is the city I know how to work to and from the bone. I can turn any quarter into at least a dollar there, quite literally; I know how to eat eight times a day for free if need be. I reasonably think we can stay WELLLLLLLL above the line of needing that kind of assistance but because Shea is very anxiety driven to know we outright have a promised home and have promised food if worst case scenarios happen really made her go, you know what, fuck it, sure, Portland, you loved Portland, the wages are good in Portland, let’s do Portland.

If we start with dry camping at locations with free plug ups even still paying for Shea’s car and insurance, once major gas costs GETTING there are done, we’ll be running about 500 a month, and again, that’s including insurance for both vehicles and paying off her car note. Depending on the lot we land at, 700-900 a month. I can float that on my casual residual income. Everything after that is profit. Everything after that is success. I refuse to let Shea be anything less than Okay, but most of all, weird and nonconformative as it is, everything after this is scales of success. Hell minus the car note we’d be under 600/mo on the pricy end. We got dis.

No more of my wife being convinced she needs to performatively pull loans on her livelihood and shelter for the illusion of a 3/2 middle class life with a picket fence and a job she hates in a place she hates that she doesn’t know how to get away from. Hell, if she ends up hating Oregon? WE CAN PICK UP OUR HOUSE AND MOVE.

QUEER CULTURE IS HAVING THE MILLENNIUM FALCON OF RVS RAINBOW PAINTED INTERNALLY TO HAUL ASS TO PORTLAND OREGON AND AINT SHIT YOU CAN DO TO STOP US, FUCKERS.

It’s literally parked in our yard right now awaiting our voyage.

You bet your ass we’re getting an aux cord and blaring classic rock on surround sound the whole goddamn way

Also gonna get a CB radio to roll with some of the better trucker herds out there. Trust me, solid investment for a multitude of reasons. And entertaining.

If you don’t know what Smokie In The Woods is on a CB radio, you don’t know the road.

It also comes with a lot of gadgets you usually have to buy, like converters for USB chargers in older vehicles and the cable antenna and an extra tent and hell they left two bikes on it like YALL WANT EM YOU CAN HAVE EM, SURE

So buying the RV, paying the friend for the loss of a work day, the necessary gas to get out there, and the tow all in all is gonna run us about 12,000 bucks total, which isn’t a bad deal for bringing your own house with you.

We already burned a few thousand of our settlement trying to fix this house before the bad news and/or upkeeping bills but now it’s time to burn it and walk. By the time we roll I’m expecting us to have about 4K over costs in the bank, which is... enough. It’s more of a nest egg than we’d have if we stayed here that’s for sure, covers emergencies on the way there and gives us a few months to get our shit together. Even the part-iest part time job out in Portland will float any overhead on bills much less if shea can fall in with all the media and digital work out there with her graphic design and art, we’re eyeing the portland saturday market to sell her stuff at in season too. SCREW THE SYSTEM YALL

#not spn #me #the road so far

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chocolatemillkk · 6 years

Text

Fan Club (BL)

Request: Byron surprise their girlfriend with a puppy because their girlfriend has just been kinda having a horrible month and could really use something to cheer them up?

Byron sat with his girlfriend, her head on his lap as he gently massaged her scalp.

"I'm sorry we haven't had much time together babe." Y/N turns to lay on her back, looking up at Byron with a sad look. "It's just been the shittiest month."

"It's fine, I understand," Byron says and he really did. Y/N's job recently got new management who were keen on firing the dead weight in the office which put extra pressure on Y/N to work harder. The extra pressure meant Y/N fell sick for a good chunk of the month and vowed to not kiss Byron lest he get sick too so they both suffered from that.

On top of all of that, her lease for her flat didn't get renewed for the year which meant she was soon-to-be homeless even though Byron insisted that she should live with him. But they were only dating for 7 months and Y/N said it was too fast to move in together.

"The flat I'm meant to look at today was cancelled-already taken." Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. "And I have one week left at my old place."

"Babe you know I've said you could-"

"I know," Y/N cups Byron's face, squinting up at him. "I know love, thank you. But I already said I want a place of my own-you know why."

"So you can have all your other boyfriends around," Byron grumbles, rolling his eyes for extra effect.

Y/N flashes her teeth before pressing her lips together to hide her smile and Byron can't help the flash of joy he feels at having been the reason for it.

"What other boyfriends?" Y/N bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"A woman as beautiful as you must have a fan club of boyfriends," Byron says.

"Oh?" Y/N raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah-I would know. It cost me a fortune just to join." Byron grins as Y/N bursts into laughter.

"Well I promise I haven't seen a penny of it," she props herself on her elbows and kisses Byron in a slow and meaningful kiss. When she looks him in the eye, this close, he can't help notice the tired bags around her eyes. Before he could say anything about taking it easy, she pecks him on the cheek and buries her face into his neck.

"Things'll get better," Byron strokes her back.

"That's what I keep telling myself," Y/N mumbles into his shoulder. "My last flat was shite anyway-the landlord was from the deepest pit of hell."

"Didn't he try to tell you you couldn't have a TV in your flat."

"Don't get me started," she sighs.

So Byron wraps his arms around her tired frame and wishes there was a way he could just transfer all the shittiness to him so she could have one good day.

•••

"I got it!" Y/N shrieks into the phone as soon as Byron picks up. It was 9 in the morning and he'd dragged himself out of bed to where his phone lay, his vision clear enough to make out his girlfriend's face.

"Got what?" He mumbles.

"Oh you just got up...sorry babe I was just so excited I had to call!"

"That's alright," Byron flops back onto the bed. "What happened?"

"I got this new flat that went up this morning and it's perfect! Right near the station and it's close enough to you I could walk to your flat! Walk!"

"That's awesome!" Byron tries to muster as much energy as he can for his girlfriend but it was hard since he was still trying to wake up.

"Yeah! The view's quite good and it's got no pet policy!"

"Is that a good thing?" Byron asks. From what he remembered, his girlfriend loved pets. The mere sight of a dog passing by on the street had her gushing over the canine. It was one of the things he loved about her.

"No pet policy babe? They don't have one...there are dogs in the building!"

She whispers the last bit and Byron laughs at her bubbling excitement.

"That's the perfect place for you b-"

"Oh no-Byron sorry I-shit! I'm late to work I'll call you later? Iloveyoubyebabe."

The line goes dead and Byron looks at the screen in confusion but she really had put it down. He sets the phone back on his nightstand and falls back to sleep.

•••

Byron's phone has a dozen texts from Y/N apologising for hanging up on him, to complaining about the trouble she got in, to apologising again. She had to work late since she was late and wouldn't see him today. Unfortunately, Byron had gotten used to that.

But he could feel the disappointment from the texts his girlfriend sent which sets Byron on a hunt of what to do to make her feel better. He could cook her dinner but there was no guarantee their schedules would line up. He could book a trip away but once again...her schedule. He considered helping her move for her flat but he would be doing that anyway.

Then it comes to him.

Y/N had been talking about getting a dog-he had texts and pictures of her dream dog except her last place didn't allow pets. But now that she had a place that did...

Byron checks his messages just to confirm and finds the exact breed she wanted-a beagle. It was all she texted about when she got drunk.

So for the next few hours, he searches the web and every pet store and animal shelter in London. Even outside of London.

Over the next week as Y/N attempts to pack up her life and Byron tries to help, he visits every place that advertised beagles. And almost like a miracle, the weekend Y/N moves in, Byron spots an ad. A litter of puppies born a couple weeks ago now looking for a new home.

"I've got some business near Ilford today," Byron tells his girlfriend that Sunday. "Is it alright if you start with the furniture without me?"

"I've actually got errands-when do you think you'll be back?" Y/N asks.

They work out a plan and Byron's off to get the last part of Operation Make-Y/N's-Life-Better.

•••

"Byron?" Y/N arrives home around 2 and notices her boyfriend's shoes by the front door. It somehow makes the place feel even more like home. "You home?"

"Hi," Byron suddenly appears from the one bedroom, closing the door behind him suspiciously. He sounds winded and his cheeks are flushed. "Hey."

"Hey," Y/N walks up to him slowly. "When did you get back?"

"Half hour?" Byron waits for her to reach him before wrapping his arms around her.

"Are you hiding something?" His girlfriend raises her eyebrow and Byron can't stop the grin from spreading on his face.

"I got you a present," he says in a lowered voice.

"Ooh," Y/N smiles. "Did you build all my bedroom furniture for me?"

"No," Byron chuckles. "Not that sort of present."

"So what is it?" She asks eagerly.

"I know how stressed out you've been and how hard you've been on yourself and I-"

A small bark sounds throughout the house and Y/N scrunchles her eyebrows. Byron feels like his heart was thumping out of his chest.

"Is that the neighbours? I didn't realise the walls were that thin." Y/N says and her voice triggers another bark.

"I uh-shit. Okay. I swear he was asleep-okay we-I can't hide it just..." Byron sighs. This wasn't the plan but the dog was getting his own way. "Just open the door."

Y/N seems to have pieced it together while Byron rambled and another bark sounded closer to the door. Her hands immediately go up to her mouth and her eyes well up with tears.

"You didn't," she stares wide eyed at the door.

"Look and see!" Byron urges.

"Is there a..." she still remains frozen in place so Byron has to put his hand on her back to warm her back up.

"Babe go on."

"Ohmygod. Oh my god if it's a..."

The rest of her sentence is lost in a shout and then squealing and a mixture of crying and gushing as she slowly opens the door and the baby beagle pounces in front of her, his wide head turning this way and that, taking in the new space.

"Is he mine?" Y/N gasps as she picks him up and squeezes him to her cheek. "Byron did you get this for me?"

"Yeah-"

"This was the errand? How long have you been planning this!"

"Since you got the place," Byron smiles at the sight of an overjoyed Y/N-a sight that had become rare in the last month.

The dog wriggles it's body and Y/N puts him down, replacing him with Byron as she jumps into his arms.

"I love you I love you Iloveyou!" Y/N squeezes him before peppering his face with kisses.

"If you love me let me go," Byron wheezes and with a laugh she does, placing her feet back on the ground.

"I didn't think I could love you anymore than I did but I do," Y/N kisses Byron before looking around for the puppy again.

"I think you love the puppy even more than me already," Byron jokes.

"Maybe I'll name him Byron, nobody will know when I talk about how much I love him then."

"Don't you dare," Byron walks to Y/N who's trying to pick the overexcited beagle up.

"Byron," Y/N coos. "Did you know how much I love you?"

The puppy barks a small happy note and Y/N looks at her boyfriend wide-eyed.

"He's taken to the name!" She laughs.

"I'm being replaced," Byron groans.

"C'mere," Y/N loops her free arm around Byron's shoulder and tip toes to give him another kiss. Before Byron could react the dog barks between them and the happy couple can't help but laugh. They'd created their small fan club after all.

#byron langley imagines #byron langley imagine #byron langley #youtube imagines #fic #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #joe sugg #josh pieters #thatcherjoe #conor maynard #jack maynard #caspar lee #mikey pearce #buttercream-baes

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i-jus-wanna-writehappy · 6 years

Text

As Old As Time [2/?]

Pairing: teen!Richie Tozier x black!fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, hateful act towards reader racially

Author's Note: I love writing this piece, and I can't wait to get further into the story. I hope you enjoy this addition :)

Part 1

Masterlist Black Girl Insert Series

* * * * *

Stan groans as he looks at his watch for the tenth time, "Richie, it's 1:45! She isn't coming, can we just go do what we had originally planned?" Richie throws his head back in a dramatic groan, "Fine! Fine, you guys go, I'm gonna catch up in a minute." Richie begins pushing his bike towards the main road with a scowl on his face.

"Where are you going now?" Ben asks, voicing what they were all thinking. Richie doesn't look back at them as he answers, "I'm gonna go ask Y/N who the hell she thinks she is."

You're shimmying to the music coming from your radio as you place more of your clothes in your wardrobe when your mom knocks on your bedroom door. Holding the pile in one arm, struggling to keep the clothes from hitting the floor, you pull the door open with your newly free hand. Before you can say anything though, your mom is speaking, "There's some boy I've never seen before pounding on our door and yelling your name."

Silently cursing Richie - it has to be Richie, unless that Stan guy is here to try and push you around - you set the clothes on your bed and grumble all the way to the door.

As soon as you pull the door open, you're face to face with an aggravated Richie Tozier. "What the hell, Y/N!" Before he can curse anymore, you push him back onto the porch and follow him out, closing the door to hide him from your parent's prying eyes.

Once you're safe from any eavesdropping, you remove your hand from Richie's chest and wrinkle your eyebrows at him in question, "What the hell, you! What did I do? And how do you even know where I live?"

Shaking his head, Richie crams his hands in his pockets, "Listen doll, you're gonna have to actually show up for our dates if you ever expect to get in my pants." Richie feels his stomach flutter a bit when you snort a harsh laugh at the line and mentally reminds himself to ask Eddie if he has any meds for fluttering stomachs, because surely it isn't natural. "Really though, no shit, we waited for over an hour."

You can't help but rub your face as you respond, "Richie, I told you I would try to come out. I just moved in yesterday, I'm still unpacking." Richie sighs dramatically, throwing his head back before looking at you again, "Well, have you gotten any unpacking done?"

When you nod, Richie smiles widely, "Great! You can come down to that awful parade with us and be back home in time to put the rest of your stuff away." Instead of letting you answer, Richie grabs your hand and begins pulling you off your porch, "Whoa, Tozier! Give me a second. I still have to tell my parents I'm leaving." The boy groans, but he releases your hand to let you run back up your porch.

"Fuck, that took forever. Can we go now?" Richie pressures as you return with your notebook and pen in hand. Shaking your head in amusement, you begin following Richie down the sidewalk, "And, just so you know, the next time you pop up at my house and don't want my parents to kill us both, introduce yourself and try not to yell fuck or shit while banging the door down. I almost got slapped on both our behalf."

Richie laughs, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close, "Well, baby doll, I can't make any promises until you stop standing me up."

You and Richie stay this way until you get to the cinema. All of his friends are standing outside, seemingly waiting for the two of you. Once you reach them, Richie jostles your body beneath his arm, "Y/N, these losers are the Losers. Losers, this is Y/N, the reason we all waited in fiery heat for two hours."

A tall boy with a handsome face shakes his head, "I'm Bill." Nudging Richie's arm from your shoulders, you hold your hand out to Bill, "I only told Richie I would try to make it." From there, everyone else introduces themselves, all with easy to remember names. And heaven knows that when you saw Mike it took everything in you to not throw your arms around him. You were positive that there were no other black people in Derry, so his rich brown skin is a welcome surprise.

Once everyone else has finished talking to you, Richie throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his left side and with his other arm, he pulls Eddie into his right side, "Are you losers ready to see the coolest thing you will ever witness?" Breaking away from you, Richie starts screeching in Eddie's ear and clawing at him, "Jurassic Park!"

Eddie's arms flail as he attempts to push Richie away from him and the sight makes you laugh. Mike notices you writing quickly in your notebook as you look from the page to Richie and Eddie, "So, are you a writer?" He asks, making sure to stand across from you so he doesn't seem as if he's trying to invade your privacy, a luxury you haven't gotten im Richie's company alone.

You nod as you finish your note and put your pen back in your pocket, "I like to think so. Derry and the people here have already proved to be more than enough inspiration." Mike laughs as you sigh dramatically, "Hopefully nothing too bad. The quarry is beautiful, I would definitely recommend getting some inspiration from there, even if you don't go with us."

Richie notices you and Mike talking and inserts himself in the conversation immediately, "Alright then, Mike. Leave all flirtatious banter up to me, that's my role here." The comment makes you roll your eyes as you gesture to the Jurassic Park poster on the door to the cinema, "Sure, Richie. Are you all going to see Jurassic Park before the parade?"

Ben nods, but before he can ask if you want to watch it with them, Richie throws his arm back over your shoulder, "Why? Worried you'll get scared, baby doll? If that's the case, we could always just sit in the back and make out the whole time." With a snort, you move Richie's arm and turn to face him, your hand shielding your eyes from the sun, "No, I already saw it, I'm gonna watch The Good Son the room over."

The boys all stop, their eyebrows raised, "The one with Macaulay Culkin?" Ben asks you with his face scrunched up. You smile widely and nod, "Yeah. I've been wanting to watch it, I love those kinds of movies." Eddie just shakes his head quickly and reaches into his fanny pack for a piece of gum, "I don't know why. That looks creepy. I hope I never have to watch it."

Everybody seems to agree, so you just chuckle and make your way into the cinema, "Okay then. I guess I'll see you guys on the other side." Richie feels his fingers twitching anxiously before making his decision, "Fuck." He mutters, as he makes his way beside you at the ticket booth, "Make that two for The fucking Good Son."

You can't help the chuckle that passes your mouth when Richie groans at having his money taken and trudges behind you to the candy counter. Once you're equipped with Twizzlers, slushies, popcorn, and Milk Duds, you and Richie find two seats in the room together, his leg bouncing the entire time.

"Come on, Tozier," You whisper as the trailers start, "What's the big deal?" Richie doesn't appreciate your teasing tone, though, scoffing as he wipes a hand full of popcorn grease onto his shorts, "I just don't like the idea of seeing sweet little Kevin McCallister creeping people out and killing kids. Fucking sue me."

Sighing dramatically, you rearrange your snacks in your lap so you can lean closer to Richie, "Look, Rich, if you get too scared, you can hold my hand. I'll keep it free, just in case." This seems to snap Richie from his fearful sulking as he sits up in his seat and turns to you with a shit eating grin on his face, "Jesus, Y/N, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked. You didn't have to force me to watch this creepy ass movie with you."

Richie is satisfied with your silence at his line when he sees you pull out your pen and scribble in your notebook quickly.

For the rest of the trailers, you sit quietly. You are stuffing your face, watching the terrifying scenes intently, but Richie has decided to make staring at you his incredibly valid reason for not watching the scary previews to movies he'll pretend won't give him nightmares for months. Your braids are pulled into a ponytail today, probably for unpacking. He wants to ask a thousand questions about your hair, but knows that even for a guy that can't keep his fucking mouth shut, that's something he doesn't yet have the privilege to do.

His eyes wander from your ponytail to your neck. The brown skin there is tantalizing. Richie nearly falls into a trance thinking of burying his face there for days, hours, seconds, an eternity. His emotions are effecting him so strongly that Richie is suddenly hit with the wonder of how any of the girls in town can resist Mike. Surely, for his attention to be so solitary, so focused, just on the beauty of your skin, it has to be magic. And if you have this magic, then doesn't Mike?

Richie finds he is actually about to vocalize his question, but your excited squeal notifies him that the movie has indeed started, and Richie's bravery tucks itself safely into the salmon pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. "Hey, doll, you know, my offer to suck face and ditch the movie still stands." Richie says, quite unable to not watch the screen, despite his anxious nerves.

When you just snort softly and grab Richie's hand in yours, he's glad, not only for his awful job of hiding his fear, but also your observant nature. Yeah, Richie still crouches low in his seat, but if you let him tell it, he's pretending to still be creeped out so he can keep your hand in his.

By the time the movie is over, Richie is sniffling hard and his hand is squeezing yours tightly. "That was fucking intense." Richie says, still not standing from your seats. The movie wasn't scary, so you know his hand isn't shaking from horror, but maybe some different kind of fear. "You ready to go to the parade with your friends, Richie?" He nods at your question, but still doesn't move. Instead, Richie turns his head to you with a look so different from his usual boyish one that you have to remember to write about it once he lets your hand go, "Can we just sit here for a minute?"

Richie pulls himself together after two minutes and when he looks to you again, all traces of fear, all traces of internal crisis are erased. "Let's go see if the guys are out." Richie says, standing and tugging at your conjoined hands gently. If he can pretend nothing happened, then so can you, for now.

"You know, Richie, the scary movie is off now. You can let my hand go." When you say this, Richie just lets out a quick laugh and stops walking so he can push his face close to yours, "Oh no, on the contrary, Y/N. I watched that scary movie with you, so whenever I see you, I'll be scared all over again. I will need to hold onto you, it's all up to you if it's your hand I'm holding, baby girl."

The cheeky comment is one of many you've heard from Richie, so you just shake your head and push him back, "Your friends aren't out here, go see how much time they still have left of Jurassic Park." When you release Richie's hand, his eyebrows jump up, "Okay, and where are you going?" He reaches for your hand again, but you slap his before it can reach you, "Settle down, Richie. I'm just gonna start walking to the ice cream parlor, okay? Hurry up and meet me, then you can hold my hand all you'd like."

Richie chuckles and tells you to walk slowly before racing to the ticket booth. It's a beautiful day, so you pull out your pen and take a quick note of Richie's shift of behavior in the theater while you meander down the sidewalk. You don't make it very far before Richie steps out and spots you just down the way, head down in your notebook.

He's about to tell you that the rest of the Losers will be approximately 45 minutes, but then time seems to slow when the car beside you slows down. Richie sees you look up, and he grudgingly thinks that maybe you know the guys, but when one throws a cup of pop out of the window and the other calls you the n-word, that thought is dismissed and his grudge is a pit of fiery anger in his stomach.

The guys drive off, but not without Richie rushing after the car, "What the fuck!" He yells after the guys, his hands raised high so they can convey a similar message. Getting his wits about himself, Richie rushes over to you, "Holy shit, Y/N, are you okay? Did they hit you?"

Fortunately, the douche bag had awful aim, so you missed the brunt of the hit, the cup exploding at your feet and spraying pop onto your bare legs and light grey shoes. Sighing heavily, you nod, "Yeah, just a little - do people pull shit like that all the time?" Your anger is evident and growing the longer you look at the soda on the pavement. "Let's go get you cleaned up, okay? We can go get you cleaned up, we can get ice cream, we can forget all about those stupid fucks."

Before you can deny for the option of following those guys and kicking their asses, Richie grabs your hand and pulls it gently, "Come on. The guys have almost another hour, and now you'll have an excuse to sneak me into your bathroom while you get undressed."

Richie effectively takes your mind off your frustrations as you snort and let him tug you along.

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #black reader insert #bgis #black girl insert series #it 2017 imagine #it 2k17 #the losers club #bwwm imagine #losver

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leigh-kelly · 6 years

Text

Same Old Lang Syne

Just a little AUish Christmas fic...

The snow blocks your windshield as you make your way to the grocery store. You’d been back in Lima for less than two hours before your mother sent you on an errand for her, and you’d grumbled the whole time she sat writing her list. You’ve traveled all over the world, but there’s nowhere you hate quite like you do Lima. The whole town fills with bad memories each time you drive through, and the idea of going to the grocery store where you might be recognized, where people might pretend they didn’t hate you in high school simply because they want to take an absurd selfie with you to post on their Instagram gets you every time. But she’s your mother, and you’re home for the first Christmas in eight years, so you couldn’t exactly say no to her.

The parking lot is crowded when you pull in, and you grumble some more as you park in the back row. There are six things on your list, but you can tell by the volume of cars that this is going to be an excursion, and you pull your coat tighter around yourself, hoping that your knit cap will serve to hide your face while you race through the store. The cold sends a shiver down your spine as you walk up to the door, but it’s the scent of the entryway that really gets you. It’s not a bad scent, per say, it just brings back those memories you’re trying to avoid, and you shudder, thinking too much about the things you’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to lock away.

You manage to gather most of things your mother asked for in a basket, and you make it to the frozen aisle for concentrated orange juice. You’re looking forward to the mimosas you’ll make in the morning, and you’re almost home free, when you spot a profile across the way. It’s one you’d know anywhere, and though you try to hide yourself, it’s too late. She sees you, and you wish you could disappear beneath the freezers. She’s not the kind of person you can make casual conversation with, she’s not the kind of person you think you can make any conversation with, but before you can drop your things and escape, you find yourself approaching her, touching her sleeve, as if you’re bridging a gap between decades.

“Santana? Is that really you?” She sing-songs, and you feel the ice that’s formed around your heart melting at the sound of her voice. You haven’t found yourself able to love since she left you, your life has been a series of one night stands with groupies, and now here she is, smiling like she never broke your heart.

“Hey, Brittany.” You smile, and you accept the hug she gives you, and when she spills her purse on the tile floor, you bend down to help her. Immediately, you notice the ring on her left finger, and you feel like you might vomit right there. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” She chirps. “How have you been?”

“Life is good, you know? Traveling a lot, music sales are still good…” You trail off, not knowing what to say to someone like her, someone who couldn’t handle the idea of you doing what you love. “You?”

“I’m good…still at NYU. I got tenure, so I’m not going anywhere…”

“Good, that’s good.” You force the conversation, torn between not wanting to talk to her, and wanting to hear every single thing that’s happened since the day she packed her bags and moved out of the apartment you’d shared in New York City. You walk her to the register, and you just…stand there, confused about where to go next.

“Hey, I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I’d really love to buy you a drink.” She startles you with the offer, and you fight with yourself, knowing it’s an absolutely terrible idea. “Unless you’re in a rush to get back with your…cranberry sauce.”

“Brittany, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, I mean…you’re right, it’s probably not. But…you know me, I’ve never been one for the best ideas.” She grins, and you continue to melt, melt, melt, until you’re sure you’re nothing but a puddle on the floor.

“I haven’t known you in fifteen years.”

“All the more reason you let me buy you a drink. For old time’s sake. You know, should old acquaintance be forgot, and all of that.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting home?” You try, though you feel yourself caving.

“Not really in a rush.” She shrugs. “I’m not gonna pressure you though, it’s your call.”

“Santana? Santana Lopez?” The cashier, some girl you vaguely recognize from some study hall in some year of high school giggles, totally unbecoming of someone nearing forty. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Leave her alone, Jenny.” Brittany rolls her eyes. “You think famous people want to be flagged in the grocery store like that? Just ring up her crap, and let her go.”

“Uh, thanks.” You nod in Brittany’s direction, and pay for your things quickly, debating whether you should make a run for the parking lot or not. “One drink?”

“One drink. I’d just like to hear about everything you’ve been up to.”

Because you’ve always been hopeless when it comes to Brittany, you follow her out to the parking lot. She suggests you put your things in your car and get into hers, and you do, figuring your mother will be fine until you get home in an hour or so. Her scent overwhelms you as you get inside, and you immediately regret your decision to do this. You remember the ring on her finger, you remember the fact that she broke your heart into so many pieces you could never pick them all up, you remember that you vowed never to do this again, but yet here you are, in her car, staring at her wedding ring.

You can’t seem to find a bar that’s open—fucking Lima—and she suggests going to the liquor store for a six pack. You’re powerless to argue, now that you’ve gotten into the car with her, and you simply nod, following her like a puppy as she buys the beer and brings it back to the car. She drives back to the grocery store, and she parks next to yours, giving you an out if you want one. She pops open two bottles of Blue Moon, and she hands you one. Her fingers graze yours, and you swallow hard. This is all a lot, and you suddenly wish you had something much stronger than a beer to dull the ache in your stomach.

“Toast?” She asks.

“To what?”

“To innocence? To now?”

“I guess so, since I’m not really sure what there is to toast to.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“I’m…as happy as I can be, I guess.” You tell her honestly. “Traveling sucks sometimes, but I love my fans, so, I keep it up as best as I can.”

“You always pop up in my iTunes. It’s…a weird experience for me. I hear your songs on the radio sometimes, and it takes me back, I guess, makes me feel some weird kind of regret that I’m not part of your life. I could have broken up with you in a better way.”

“Can we not do this, Britt?” You border on begging, not realty emotionally stable enough to have this kind of conversation. “It’s been fifteen years, you’re married.”

“In the process of getting a divorce, actually.” She corrects you, and you fight the urge to whip your head around. “We’re pretending right now…for my parents’ sake, and for Christmas. I filed for divorce six weeks ago.”

“I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“Are you really? I’m surprised you don’t wish the worst for me. I know you did, at least for a while.”

“How was I not supposed to?” You defend. “I came home from a tour, and you had all of your shit packed up in our apartment. I hated you for that. I felt like you had absolutely no joy in my dream coming true.”

“You were never there, Santana. I was having a relationship with your voicemail. How was that fair to me?”

“I don’t really want to fight about this a decade and a half later.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t you think we hashed it out enough back then?”

“I don’t know…I really don’t. My relationship with you has colored every other experience I’ve ever had. I was with you, one way or another, since I was fifteen.”

“Including with your husband?” You can’t help but ask, though you don’t really want to know the answer.

“Wife.” She corrects you, narrowing her eyes.

“You married a woman?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m bisexual, Santana, there was just enough chance I’d marry a woman than that I’d marry a man.”

“I—I’m.” You don’t finish your sentence, you don’t want to tell her that you’d always expected that the only woman she’d marry would be you. You can’t let her into that vulnerability. It’s mortifying, really.

“She was good to me. She’s an architect, and it kept things really secure for me, when my job was unstable, and I wasn’t sure if I’d get tenure. I...I loved her then, I really truly did, but…”

“But what?” You ask, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“She wasn’t you. She was never you. No one ever could be.”

“It’s been fifteen years, Brittany.”

“I know, and if you tell me I wasn’t the great love of your life, I’d believe you. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t the great love of mine.”

“Jesus.” You chug the rest of your beer, and you open another one, not sure how you can even begin to handle this conversation. Of course she was the great love of your life, that’s the reason you hadn’t ever been in a relationship with anyone else, it’s the reason you’re spending yet another Christmas alone, just you and your mother. It’s the reason nothing has made sense since she walked out and left you scrambling to figure out who you were. But you don’t know how to say all of that. You don’t know if you want to. “You left me.”

“I know. Everything was too much to handle. We were twenty-five, and I missed you every single day.”

“Do you think I didn’t miss you when I was on tour? That I didn’t go to bed in some strange city every night wishing you were next to me? It was hard for me too, Brittany, but I didn’t want to give up on us.”

“It’s easy for you to say though when you weren’t the one left behind. It hurt thinking that maybe you’d get bored of me, while you were off meeting all these interesting people, and I was just…teaching math. I was afraid.”

“So why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“Because I didn’t think you were going through what I was, and I felt like an idiot.”

“Imagine how I felt when I came back from LA and half of our apartment was packed up. I didn’t see it coming, not for one single second. I never stopped loving you, in all the time we were separated with my tour, and when I came back, it felt like you stopped loving me.”

“I never stopped loving you.” She reaches out and touches your hand, and you jolt, not sure if she means just while you were gone, or ever. “I didn’t leave you because I wasn’t in love with you, I left you because I was.”

“I thought we were having a drink to catch up on everything we missed out on in fifteen years, not to rehash our breakup.” You desperately try to change the subject, though you know it’s futile.

“Didn’t our breakup create the last fifteen years of our lives? Had you asked me then where I’d be, I’d have said that we’d be married, with two or three kids, and we’d be happy.”

“I would have thought that too…” You confess. “Looking at you, your eyes look the same as I remember them, and I’m just wondering now what could have been.”

“We could have been great. We were great. Do you know how many times I’ve regretted the day I left?”

“Probably not as many as I’ve regretted it, to be honest.”

“I don’t know, Santana. Asha tried, she really did, but she could just…never be you, and it’s been hard. I’ve done marriage counseling, we talked about having a baby, but there was just nothing either of us could do to erase my regret over you.”

“Does she know about me?” You chance to ask, and she nods slowly.

“How could she not? The ghost of you…of us has just impacted everything.”

“If it means anything, it’s impacted everything I’ve done too.”

You sit in silence for a long while, finishing your second beer. The air feels heavy around you, her breath feels heavy, and you wonder if you shouldn’t get out of the car. You wonder if you shouldn’t go home and pretend this never happened. But you can’t. You’re here, and she’s told you that your long-gone relationship has affected her marriage to the point that she’s getting divorced. That’s not nothing, and you find yourself hoping, wanting, for something that’s in the past. This isn’t a Hallmark movie where you see the girl you used to love, and suddenly the years disappear and things are the way they once were. This is real life, a life that hasn’t been kind to you in terms of love, and you can’t dare to hope. Christmas miracles aren’t real. They can’t be, because magic isn’t.

“Remember the first Christmas we came back from New York?” She asks suddenly.

“The Christmas I proposed.” You swallow hard at the memory.

“You didn’t really mean it though.”

“I got caught up in Christmas, and we were only nineteen. But…I thought it was practice for the real thing. I had a ring for you, you know, a few years later.”

“You did?” Her eyes widen, and you nod slowly.

“I always planned to marry you. I thought I’d make it, and we’d settle down. I didn’t plan to travel like this forever. Now I do, because I’m…lonely, I guess.”

“You never found anyone?”

“I never wanted to. You know how I am…I don’t let people in. After you, it got worse. I was heartbroken and sick for months. You were my great love, there was never going to be anyone else.”

“It’s weird we ran into each other, isn’t it? After all this time…”

“I’ve only been home for one Christmas since. This whole place is too painful for me. New York was where we lived, but this is where we fell in love, so pretty much every place is a reminder of being sixteen and pretending I wasn’t head over heels for you.”

“I just…can’t even believe with everything that’s gone on in your life, you still have these…feelings about me.”

“You’re not just someone in my past, you’re the person who was supposed to be my future. God, it’s killing me to look at your blue eyes right now, and know they’ve spent the last decade and a half looking at someone else. I’m just…this is really messing me up, okay?”

“You think it’s not messing me up, Santana?” She shakes her head, clearly frustrated with herself. “A month and a half after I filed for divorce, and now I run into you, after all this time…It’s like, some kind of sign or something.”

“I don’t believe in signs.” You tell her. “We’re just two old lovers who met in a grocery store. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“What if I want it to?”

You freeze. These are words you’ve been wishing to hear for years, and here she is saying them. Do they mean what you think they mean? Does she want to give it a second go, after all this time? Do you really want to put your heart on the line like that? She hurt you once, what’s to stop her from doing it again? How can you risk that? You barely survived the first breakup, how could you survive another? You study her face, and you feel like even in all the years you’ve missed, you haven’t lost a moment with her. She’s Brittany. Your first love. Your forever love. And because you don’t know what else to do, you nod slowly.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She leans in, pressing her hand to your cheek and her lips brush yours. It feels like the last kiss you’ve replayed in your mind a million times. It feels like a new first kiss, it feels like…everything.

“Wow.” It escapes your lips, and you flush.

“Wow.” She repeats. “I missed that.”

“What are we doing?”

“I think we’re kissing.”

“No, I mean…in life. Right now. You’re not even divorced.”

“I will be. I just have to get through Christmas, then I’m telling my parents. I’m not changing my mind about that.”

“But what about us? We’ve seen each other for an hour in fifteen years.”

“That doesn’t make me love you any less. Do you still love me, Santana?”

“I never stopped.” You tell her earnestly. “I probably never will. But…what about everything else?”

“You’re living in New York, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“What if we saw each other again? When things settle down?”

“I’d really like that.” You breathe. All of the hope flares up in your chest, and you find yourself somehow believing in Hallmark movies and Christmas magic, and the stupid snow keeps coating the windshield of her car, isolating you inside. “I really should go home…”

“I know. So should I. It’s late, and everyone’s waiting.”

“But we’ll see each other again?”

“In New York.” She nods, telling you everything you need to hear with those words. Telling you it’s not over, that it’s never been over. “My number is still the same.”

“Then I still remember it by heart.”

“So, you’ll call me?” She asks, leaning in to kiss you again.

“How could I not?” You kiss her more deeply this time, before you reach for the car door, half wishing you could cancel everything else and just stay right here, in her car, forever. “Merry Christmas, Brittany.”

“Merry Christmas, Santana.”

#same old lang syne #brittana #christmas fic

105 notes · View notes

magicalcreeks · 6 years

Text

A Dozen Spells and Coffee Recipes

People get their soulmates when writing appears on their arms. It can happen at any age and Craig is the only one in his class who has not received any indication of possessing a soulmate, or so he thought. It was in class when scribbled handwriting suddenly appeared on his arm.

Chapter 2 is up.! You can read it below or here on my Ao3 :) let me know what you think! fill free to leave a kudos or a comment it’s always appreciated!

Chapter 2

Another dreadful day in class, Craig thought while spinning his pencil around in his fingers.

Clyde— that bastard— said he couldn’t make it to school today because he was “sick”. Which was complete bullshit because he was perfectly healthy when they indulged in two rounds of call of duty. Him winning all the rounds and openly mocking both him and Token for being shitty gamers.

None of it matter now because Craig was stuck sitting in a class with Stan and Butters. Stan sitting next to him and Butters in the front like the good student he was.

Craig did not hate Stan per say, he just did not enjoy being apart of their shit show shenanigans; never quite forgiving when he and his three friends took his 100 dollars and got them deported to Peru.

Stan offered a polite smile to Craig, Craig giving a bleak one in return.

“Do you have to talk to Kyle now?” Craig asked, not able to contain his eye roll; Stan was currently in the middle of writing a message on his arm that Kyle would receive in a matter of moments, with that silly grin on his face.

“Dude, don’t take it out on me because you don’t know who your soulmate is,” Stan responded, finishing his message before looking up; momentarily greeted by a middle finger Craig was slow to put down.

“Really?”

Then, a flash of blonde entered his peripheral vision; head cocking upwards at an awkward angle so it would not be obvious he was looking. Stan was too busy writing back and forth to Kyle, but Craig did not want to take any chances.

It was that Tweek kid again. Since when he did take this class? Plenty of kids took art as a last resort elective to fulfill their credits, but Craig has not noticed him in this class before.

Tweek walked quiet enough so he could not be seen, seemingly failing because Craig could see him clear as day, taking the desk right by the window where no one sat because of the draft coming from the window. Even on a relatively warm day, those seats could be a pain in the ads because when the school turned on the AC a draft came from there too.

Craig watched him as discreetly as possible, though risky because that would require looking over Stan’s head.

Taking another quick glance, he saw how Tweek was shaking just enough to make the desk chatter and how he placed his thermos on the right side of the desk to grab and drink when necessary; or at least that’s what Craig assumed.

He had a book bag which looked awfully light, probably holding only a notebook, folder, and a couple of pencils. No offense to him but he did not look like the academic type.

“Craig?”

“What is it, Marsh?” Annoyed from being pulled from his thoughts, his green eyes met a pair of blue ones.

Stan frowned, thinking they were finally on good terms, “are you going to try out for JV football?”

“Really?” Craig raised a brow as if he was just asked the worlds dumbest question, “sports are for tools.”

“Wasn’t your superhero persona a tool?”

His black brows narrowed, head lifting away from the boy, “why are you such an asshole?” Stan spat, moving to start a conversation with the next person.

Good riddance, now where was that damn teacher? Craig slid down in his chair, long legs extending in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was a new addition to his once clear flesh that got his attention.

Sugar.

Nutmeg.

Pumpkin Spice.

Damn it, again? Why was Craig fated to his arm looking like someone’s botched grocery list? He pulled his sleeve closer to his wrist, refusing to have the writing seen. While others proudly showed there’s, this could have been the worst thing to ever happen to him.

“Hello, students!” Their teacher walked in as cheery as ever; everyone convinced he was a complete wacko because he was the only adult in South Park who liked his job, a teaching job if that.

“Good morning,” students greeting him In unenthusiastic unison as groups dispersed to giving him their fateful attention.

Craig, on the other hand, could care less, his mind wandering as it has been these past few weeks.

Occasionally his eyes drifting in Tweeks direction which made him wonder why a kid he never once talked to was invading his thoughts.

...

Clyde: Hey, Buddy. Do you want to come to my place after school?

Craig: I thought you were sick.

Clyde: false alarm ;)

That fucking liar.

Craig: sure, why not.

Was his last message before pocketing his phone. Currently, he was in P.E.— well he was supposed to be in P.E. Craig only went enough so the teacher wouldn’t be able to fail him, even they knew half the boys skipped the class when mostly girls were in attendance.

Opting to wander the halls instead of his usual duck in the boy's bathroom— Craig turned the corner, seeing the usual scenery of lockers and then a boy sitting down with to what looked like from Craig’s view, a sketchbook.

It did not take him long to see the boy sitting to himself was Tweek Tweak. Instead of walking the other way and minding his business he decided to walk towards him.

“Hey,” he greeted him in a nonchalant matter, his hands resting in the pockets of his jacket.

Tweek yelped, clenching the pad close to his chest. No one usually walked down the halls until their transition period, he thought he would be safe here by himself.

“H-Hi!” His voice quivered with nerves, eyes twitching. He was looking at Craig but not directly at him, focusing his attention on the poster just to the left of his head.

Maybe I should leave him alone. Craig’s heels were about to turn, even his body was panning away from the boy; if only he could bring himself to leave.

“You don’t have class?”

“Ah! I do! -nngh- I should leave!” Tweek was mid packing to make his grand escape when he was stopped.

“Wait,” Craig even surprised himself. Woah, did he really say that? Clearing his throat, “uh, do you want to sit with us tomorrow? You know, for lunch?”

That sounded much cooler in his head. He doesn’t know what it was; Tweek was one of those people he would feel bad for. Kind of like Clyde, but the difference was Clyde mostly brought the dumb shit on himself.

Tweek stared with his mouth slightly agape, his pale blue eyes wobbling; showing his mind was moving at a rapid speed trying to find the appropriate answer to his offer.

Argh! This was too much pressure! Tweek showed his conflicting emotions by raising his hands to his hair, pulling slightly at the follicles.

Craig took a step back, “Dude, relax-“

“Why are you being so nice to me?!”

“Look, you don’t have to. I don’t care either way.” He confessed with shrugged shoulders.

“Gah! O-Okay!”

He felt his lips tug but refused to show a smile. Clyde was surely going to raise hell when he found out about their temporary guest eating with them.

“But he’s so weird!”

Craig could hear him now, needing to remind him that he had no room to pass judgment because they all had weird ass shit happen to them.

“Cool, I’ll Uh, see you around?”

Tweek nodded, or so it looked like a nod. It was when the noise of others voices carried down the hallway when he made his exit to whatever class he had next, Craig figuring he should go to any of the guys caught him and asked him questions.

Tomorrow will be interesting...

...

Craig made his way over to the field, standing close enough to the fence so he could get a good view of the guys trying out for JV football.

Stan, Token, Cartman, and a few other guys he did not know or cared to know were aligned, standing parallel to the coach spitting instructions towards them.

“Craig, is that you?” A familiar voice caught his attention; it was Kyle waving at him from his spot on the bleachers. He had a book propped on his lap, his red curls bouncing up and down.

“Let me guess-“

“Waiting for Stan.”

Typical. Craig stepped up on the metal bleachers. Any other day he would not have voluntarily regarded Kyle in any way. Kyle was just one of those kids he could only stick around in short intervals before he felt the need to shoot himself.

He sat a few inches away from the redhead, his book bag still on his shoulders with one strap.

“I’m surprised you’re not trying out,” said Kyle, needlessly flipping through the pages of his book to see how many pages were left in the chapter.

Craig fought the urge to call him a nerd. Him, Butters, Token, and Wendy were the only ones who took their education seriously; the rest many came to school to hang out and maybe get high if the upperclassman gave them a good deal.

“Sports aren’t my thing. Too much of a commitment,” he explained, leaning his elbows back on the bench behind them, the metal freezing cold to the touch.

“Then what? You’re here to watch?”

“I’m waiting for Token.”

At that point, the boys on the field were dismissed by the coach, some of their faces dark with disappointment while the rest of their faces beamed with glee. Token was one of them in a good mood, laughing along with Stan as they made their way towards Craig and Kyle.

“You waited for me?” Stan acted surprised, leaning his weight on the rusty fence diving the bleachers and field to give the redhead a quick kiss.

Token and Craig made a face. Blah.

“Hey, man,” Token greeted, actually surprised Craig stuck around to wait for him.

Craig nodded. The truth was he waited for Token to get some advice. Since neither Clyde or Jimmy was reliable in the advice department, Token was the only one to give him logical advice. Logical and linear. Just how he liked it.

So when they were walking, Craig told him everything. How when he was walking around the hall he ran into Tweek Tweak and invited him to sit with them tomorrow. Yeah, the whole thing sounded silly it was aired out. Token only listened, his brows knotted together with thought. Once Craig said everything, they stop momentarily, Token giving him a serious look.

“So? What’s the big deal?”

“That’s the thing, it’s not.”

“I don’t understand,” Token admitted with a shake of his head, “so you want Tweek to sit with us, what’s the big deal? Yeah, he’s weird but whatever. It’s not like he’s your soulmate or anything,” he joked, Craig scrunching his nose.

“If Clyde is who you’re worried about I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him to be nice.”

Craig didn’t say anything.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Token turned on his heels, bitting down on his lip. Something was on his mind as well in regards to Craig. Now did not seem like the right time to ask, however. Glancing behind him, he saw Craig already walking.

“Wait,” He said. He muttered a: god damn it.

“What?”

“Uh, you should really join the football team. We really need someone to compete with Cartman.”

Craig stared blank face, looking away once more with his back turned to the dark-skinned boy, “I’ll think about it.”

He said before leaving.

It was upon reaching his door when Craig remembered.

“Shit. I was supposed to go to Clyde’s.”

...

The following day in school, Clyde would not stop sending eyeballing glares in Craig’s direction.

At first, he thought it was because Token had told him about inviting Tweek to have lunch with them. In actuality, Clyde was mad because Craig had forgotten to go over to his house the day before.

“I just can’t believe it, my own best friend betrayed my trust.”

They were waiting in the lunch line, Craig’s eyes turned down at the once frozen products in front of him. Bland Mac and cheese, half frozen burger patties, stale bread.

“And then,” Clyde had lowered his voice in a hushed whisper, “you talk to Tweek!”

The lunch lady slapped brownish slop on their trays, along with a wrapped biscuit which looked like the only appetizing thing on the plate.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?”

Craig rolled his eyes, “you’re being dramatic.”

Walking in the direction of their usual table where Token was already sitting with Jimmy, Kenny, and Butters— Who for some reason started sitting with them— Clyde was clearly voicing that he was not going to let up on the issue.

“We have a reputation to uphold... Tweek is just... Tweek is Tweek!” He cried, drawing unwanted attention from a couple of upperclassmen snickering to themselves.

They took their seats at the table.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve been acting weird ever since you got your soulmate,” he went on.

Craig ripped into his biscuit, tuning out his friend in favor of listening to the other conversation going on at the table.

“Is he talking about Tweek?” Token asked, flashing a sorry look. When he texted their missing friend over the phone he seemed calm enough, or at least that was what his tone was alluding to.

“Yep.”

“I tried-“

“Don’t you talk about me like I’m not here!”

Token kicked him under the table, somehow the only one ever able to calm him down without making him shed any tears.

Clyde lowered his head to his plate, using his fork to play with his food. In other words, he was being dramatic.

Grateful for the quiet, Craig could not help but have his thoughts wander once more, his cheek resting against his hand. Luckily the other boys did not care enough to ask him any questions since they were too busy discussing a joke that Jimmy was coming up with. Even Clyde joined in— once again failing at the whole being mad thing.

The good news was Craig had not gotten any more signs from his soulmate. Perhaps they gave up when they realized they were not going to get a response, even though their initial communications were always along the line of ingredients for some recipe.

“Craig, 12 o’clock,” Token had motioned over his blue wool hat.

He whipped his head around.

So he did show up.

Tweek was moving towards their table, appearing as disheveled as always. Today he wore a sweater which looked much too big for him in oppose to his usual improperly buttoned shirt; in his hands he held his thermos, showing off the many bandages on his trembling fingers.

“Craig...” Clyde whined, still against the idea of them sitting down with the weird kid. Building a good reputation in their sophomore year was crucial to their survival as juniors even seniors.

“Gah! Hey, man...” said Tweek, meeting the eyes of Token who offered a wave, Kenny who nodded his head, Butters who smiled, Jimmy said hello, Clyde... was being Clyde, and finally Craig, who did not get the opportunity of making direct eye contact like the others.

“Hey,” Craig shifted over so Tweek would have room to sit, “I didn’t think you’ll show up.”

Taking his sit on the table filled with the many occupants he would never think of talking too, anxious would be an understatement. Even with hours of Tweek convincing himself of this being a bad idea he was drawn in by some indescribable force— that force being Craig Tucker.

He thought Craig hated him! Especially after all those times he would pick on him with Cartman's gang. The same gang who were now casting him strange looks from across the lunch room.

Maybe Craig forgot. Tweek glanced next to him, not realizing Craig was already staring. Quickly he looked away.

“So...” Thankfully Token was the one to slice through the tension, “Tweek, why the bandages?”

Jumping to attention, Tweek listened to his question then looked at his fingers, bending them slightly, “sometimes I- nngh- burn my fingers while making coffee.”

“Wow, that must be all the time,” Clyde mused, picking up a limp green bean with his fork.

“Is it true that you put meth in your coffee?”

Token nudged him hard, “Dude!”

“What?! I just want to know why he acts the way he does!”

“But you just don’t ask him that!”

While the two went back and forth, Tweek was stuck with the decision of excusing himself or staying. On the one hand, he knew it would be best to not stay where he wasn’t wanted. On the other, Craig had invited him and he promised to stay—he never backed out on a promise.

“Whatever, you assholes have fun with whatever this is,” Clyde circled his hand over their heads, eyes landing on Craig who stared back at him calmly, “I’m going to find Bebe.”

He was off, pushing at the closed double doors. Token sighed, standing up with his paper bag balled up in his hand, “I should be off too. I want to cram in more studying for that test I have next period.”

Craig snorted, “Nerd,” he teased.

“Us too fellers. We have a group project.”

“A-And I w-w-want to- to submit my p-paper in early.”

They all left, leaving only Tweek and Craig alone at the lunch table with 20 minutes remaining in their lunch period.

Oh god, they all left because he was here, Tweek knew it. So what was this? Was this just a plan for Craig to publicly humiliate him in front of their peers? And why was he so calm? Argh! He did not know what to do and now Craig was staring at him again— what did he want? That’s what Tweek hated, he couldn’t read Craig. When he looked at everyone else he knew what they were thinking before they said anything; with Craig, it was like looking into a hole full of mysteries.

“Did you bring lunch?” Was Craig’s question, seeing as he did not have his own bagged lunch or school lunch.

“Oh, uh...” Tweek wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, leaving a light smug of paint that must have been left over from his art session. It was a green, like the color of fresh grass.

“Nngh- I usually don’t eat lunch-“

Craig surprised himself by giving him half of the biscuit he’s been breaking apart since the beginning of the lunch period.

“It’s dry as hell but edible.”

“Uh, Thanks, man.”

Tweek took the biscuit, not eating it but holding it in his hand. Even without looking he could feel the eyes of the lunchroom on him, causing his cheeks to heat up.

“I-I have to go...” His words hurried out of his mouth, body out of the seat before Craig could say anything else.

What could he have said? Don’t go? Wait? He did not care if everyone else whispered under their breaths, they need to mind their fucking business anyway.

The lunch bell went off then, students packing up to head to the next class. Craig moved slowly, only going through the motions of acting like a student giving a shit about their next class. His mind felt blurred with things he never thought of before... maybe Clyde was right— for once. He has been acting out of character since he found out about his soulmate.

Tch. Craig exited the cafeteria, mind already tuning out before he’s reached his next class. History again.

He just needed this day to be over.

...

“Craig.”

He closed his locker, revealing Token standing there dressed in his football attire.

“If this is another attempt to get me to join...”

“It’s Clyde,” Token shoulders lowered on the contrary to his shoulder pads. For once he looked tired, and not the sleepy tired but the defeated tired. Stressed would be an understatement.

“Where is he?” Craig demanded with little question. The vibe he was getting from Token suggested something happened.

When it came to Clyde that something could mean anything.

Token lead him to the boy's locker room. It was relatively empty with the exception of a few of the guys putting together their last-minute gear.

Stan was by the bench with one foot propped up to tie his shoes. When he saw the two boys approach he did not say anything, only leaving the room and telling the others to follow.

It smelled of cheap cologne and gym socks— the smells assaulting his nostrils all at once.

“I have to get to practice, but he’s over there,” Token said, patting his hand on Craig’s shoulder, “good luck, buddy.”

Craig wondered why he was always the one to deal with this shit. He loved Clyde— he was the brother he never wanted and told him to fuck off repeatedly but at the end gave in and learned to love. He would do anything for the kid. It was when he went around the corner and saw Clyde on the floor pathetically weeping that an instinct kicked in.

He kneeled down in front of him, not making his presence known in caution of frightening the boy.

“I was waiting for you to get here...” Clyde sniffled, wiping his arm over his nose. It was gross, really. With the disgusting sounds he was making, Craig tried hard to keep a poker face.

He didn’t do crying, not even Clyde’s crying.

“What happened?”

Clyde hiccuped, lifting his head from his knees with bloodshot brown eyes and dried up tear marks on his cheeks. He resembled a small child attempting to shield himself from the world. Out of the many years, Craig has known him he was never afraid of showing his emotions, something he’s learned to live with.

“It’s Bebe... she’s not... she’s not my soulmate.”

Craig sat on his bottom when he knees ached with the pressure they were withholding. He had his suspicions— everyone in their grade did. When Clyde wasn’t around the guys were convinced that Bebe was just using him because Clyde was so stupidly in love and bought her everything she wanted.

“She told me last period. She said she couldn’t do it anymore, that the guilt was killing her,” he went on to recite the exact words she told him, “I know you don’t believe in this soulmate shit but it fucking hurts, dude.”

“At least there’s a bright side to all this.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Clyde asked, face filled with a dreaded solemn much different from his usual cheerful self.

“You still have a soulmate. It’s just not Bebe,” was Craig’s reason, always the logical thinker to bring Clyde out of his emotional haze.

“I guess so. But with Bebe, it felt right. When you’re in love you’re in love. My mom would tell me that all the time.”

“It sounds like you’re contradicting yourself since you’re the number one advocate for soulmates.”

Clyde pulled one of Craig’s numbers and flipped him the bird, already feeling better by hearing his dry humor. It did not make him feel less like an idiot, but at least he was smiling genuinely.

Sighing, “I feel like such a dumbass. I spent nearly all my mom's life insurance money to buy Bebe gifts... that money was supposed to be for College.”

Craig relaxed, stretching his legs out until his feet were touching the wall; his elbows resting on the bench. It felt like old times with them sitting here together— not that things have changed between them except for age and new friends. In the end, it was always them.

“You are a dumbass. You just can’t help it.”

“Fuck off. My dad is going to kill me.” Clyde rubbed his hands over his face, groaning loud. His eyes darted from the ceiling then to Craig who was busy looking away, his lips parted enough for his blue braces to be seen.

It was the green mark stationed on his face which caught Clyde’s attention.

“You got something on your face.”

“Huh? Oh,” Craig rubbed at his cheek with his thumb, “is it gone?”

“Hmm, not exactly,” Clyde said.

He wiped again with his thumb, stopping to regard the strange look he was receiving.

“What?”

“Your arm.”

It was no surprise when he saw another unwanted list of items invading his skin.

Sage.

Salt.

Socks.

“At least there’s still your soulmate,” Clyde sighed, leaning back against the metal locker. He was half dressed in football gear, about ready to try out after learning he missed it when he was out “sick”. He was never going to get on the team now, especially not after this shocking development breaking his heart.

“Forget about me,” he pulled down his sleeve, stretching the fabric over his hands, “you have practice to get to.”

“But I’m not even on the team,” he whined, reflecting from his shattered hopes and dreams of ever getting a letterman jacket.

“Stop being a pussy,” Craig pushed himself off the ground, then reached a hand out to help his friend, “forget about Bebe. You’ll never be one of those douchebag jocks if you sit around.”

“Hey!” Clyde smiled, “I don’t want to be a douchebag jock.”

“And I don’t want a soulmate. Get out there, Donovan.”

Clyde nodded, his wave of sadness temporarily subdued with a twinge of inspiration. He put his helmet on his head, it fits like a glove. Perhaps he could take the necessary steps to getting over Bebe after all.

“Thanks, Craig.”

Craig shook his head, “don’t mention it.”

...

“Guys, check it out!”

They were in the fourth grade, Stan and Kyle appeared before Craig and his gang of friends.

“Yeah, look!” Kyle stepped forward, the sleeve of his jacket rolled up to his elbow. He held a pen in his other hand.

“If you’re going to stab yourself please refrain from doing it in front of us,” Craig told the red-headed boy, never the one to want to entertain any of their shenanigans. He was about to tell Clyde and Token to come on, but they stood there watching.

“No, dude. Stan, show them yours.”

Stan held out his own arm, the four boys witnessing the writing appear on his pale flesh.

“No way,” Clyde stared fascinated, the stars in his eyes shining brightly.

“Wait, so you two are...?”

“Yep!” The two boys said I’m proud unison, exchanging a happy look. Deep down they both knew they were soulmates, but it being official only eliminated the fears of them having someone else as soulmates.

“Well, it’s official. The only one in the grade without a soulmate is Craig,” Token chuckled. Even he had a soulmate; for the most part, he kept it under wraps due to his private nature but everyone knew.

Clyde patted darkened faced Craig on the back, “lighten up. You’re just a late bloomer.”

“I really do hate you guys.”

...

Craig was finally walking home after an extra hour of being in school much longer then he needed to be— the things he did for his friends. As exhausting as it was he knew what he signed up for when he decided to make friends. He always had to be the logical one to calm down all of their personalities; luckily he had Token to sometimes take over the role of being the voice of reason.

The sun was setting again, the days becoming much shorter due to the changing seasons— now if Craig could only remember if daylight savings would mean he would gain or lose an hour of sleep.

He kicked away an empty cab of energy drink, opting to take the long way home— the path going along the woods which no one took because of legends of it being haunted— since he was in no rush to talk to his parents who were undoubtedly waiting to ask him about his day. His answers were always the same, a boring day, just like he liked it.

A chill touched the back of his neck, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. Craig did not believe in all that paranormal bullshit just like how he did not believe in soulmates; the one thing he did believe in was aliens, but only because they were real. Area 51 be damned, the government was always hiding something.

To the right of his peripheral vision, a glowing light cast in the woods caught his attention. It was dim with just enough light to be seen by anyone passing by.

“Hmm...” it could have been a group of juniors smoking, they always did it behind the school or in the woods, along with a lot of other things.

A lot of crazy shit happened in these woods, and if Craig remembered correctly this is where some of the guy's dads went to do their gay witch party in the two weeks of October.

And as much as Craig hated sticking his nose in something that did not involve him, he had an unexplained urge to investigate. He did not want to go home anyway so he might as well.

Craig ventured into the woods, knocking away three branches, spider webs, and whatever else was in his path; he even came across a few empty bottles and broken lighters. The further in he went, the brighter the light became.

He ducked behind a nearby tree, “what the fuck?”

There was only one boy standing before him, chanting something over again with candles scattered around the floor.

Wait a minute... Craig squinted, moving in closer with his hands and knees.

“Tweek?”

A loud scream was followed by something falling in a pile of leaves, crushing them promptly.

“C-Craig?!”

...

#sp creek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #craig x tweek #fanfic #my fanfiction #ao3 #soulmates #south park fanfiction #south park

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