#like this is YOUR MAN. he’s turning eighty this week and he helps me out a lot and i love him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliaology · 7 months

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COACH

summary: reader is a single mother who just signed her son up for hockey! who knew that number eighty-six of the new jersey devils would help coach alongside his teammates.

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: talks of teen pregnancy if that counts…? talks of sex and birth control. SO MUCH FLUFF BC I THINK JACK WOULD BE GREAT WITH LIL KIDS.

being pregnant at eighteen was not what you expected. no, it was actually nowhere near your list of “what will i do when im eighteen.” of course, you tried to figure out where you went wrong. thats when it hit you, you forgot to take your birth control that entire week, and your now ex-boyfriend was so sure you would still be fine because you took it a few days before.

how wrong he was. and he fled quickly too.

now you sat in the small bleachers of a local rink, helping your son get his skates tied. the five year old gave a goofy grin as he saw some of his friends from school or from the same apartment complex as you.

“you ready to go, baby?” you ask him with a smile, patting his leg as you helped him stand on the skates.

“uh huh!” he smiled widely.

“okay, lets go lovie, one of the coaches will be paired with you and helping you, okay?” you told him, bending down to his height. he gave a toothy grin.

“okay mama!” you smiled and held his hand as you brought him over to the opening of the rink. a few kids were in front of you two, getting paired with one of the older males.

you learned that it was the new jersey devils, their team came to help the little ones. you smiled at your son as you guys got to the opening. number eighty six awaited for your son.

jack lifted his gaze from his hands to you and your son. his breath hitched as he saw your face. you were pretty. really pretty.

he stuck his hand out, “hi im jack— jack hughes” he smiled.

you grabbed his hand, shaking it slightly. “its nice to meet you, im y/n.” you grin. you then look at your son, so does jack.

jack crouches down. “and whats your name little bud?” he asked.

“connor!” your son smiled.

“well connor, you ready to play some hockey?” jack grinned. your son nodded excitedly and grabbed onto jacks arm.

jack took your son out onto the ice as you sat down back on the bleachers. you crossed your legs and placed your head onto your hand as you watched your son excitedly practice with number 86.

jack hughes was attractive, you knew that for sure. but the way he was so gentle with your son, holy shit you felt like it was love at first sight. of course, it wasn’t, but this very attractive man was being amazing to your son. who would not want that?

you watched as he helped your son skate around. he helped connor hold his stick properly, helped him hit the puck. though— you couldn’t help but laugh when connor slipped and fell straight on his butt. jack seemed to also find it funny as he slapped a hand over his mouth while helping connor up.

you also watched as jack would sneak glances at you every so often. you had to say it made you feel flustered when you caught him.

after about two hours, the small practice came to and end. parents took photos with some of the devils, kids got their stuff put back in bags, but your son, he was attached to jack’s hip. he would not leave jack alone,

jack needed to take a picture with a fan? connor would wait patiently for him. jack had to go back to the players box for his stuff? connor was following. jack was walking towards you? well, connor was in his arms.

“little man here seems to like me, i think” jack spoke with a smile.

you let out a small laugh as the now tired kid had rested his head against jacks shoulder.

“i think so too, im sorry about him being all over you. he doesn’t get attached easily so this is somewhat new.” you spoke softly.

you grabbed the helmet from jacks grasp, putting it in your son’s hockey bag. “its no problem at all, really. hes a cutie, and one hell of a fast learner.” jack gushed.

you smiled, turning to your son who rubbed his eyes. “ready to go home, baby?” you asked, hands out so he could go to you.

“no! i want to stay with jack” he pouted, turning his head away.

you sighed softly. “im sorry jack.” you told.

“its okay, promise. here, ill hold him so you can take his gear off and then i can carry him to your car? does that sound okay?” jack asked.

you nod as you smile. “sounds perfect.”

jack sat down, holding connor. you gently took of his gear, even if it was a struggle that connor wouldn’t even move from jack’s shoulder. once you got it all in his bag, including his skates, you zipped it up and slung it over your shoulder.

you and jack walked in silence as connor had fallen asleep on jacks shoulder. once you got to your car, you put connor’s bag in the back as jack gently placed him in his car seat.

you turn to him. “thank you for this, it means a lot to me.” you told him.

“couldn’t resist. the kids a cutie and hes got spunk. not to mention his mom is really pretty too.” jack told, smiling at you.

his face then dropped. “i mean unless you have a boyfriend— i totally didn’t say that.” he stuttered.

you laughed lightly, “i dont, thank you” you muttered.

jack’s cheeks went pink. “i uh— can i get your number by any chance?” he asks.

“will you be here next practice?” you question. jack nods. “team will be here for all except when we have roadies.” jack explained.

you nod. “you can have it next practice.” you smile and go to your side of the car. “thank you again, jack.”

“no.. problem” he spoke slowly. he watched you drive away. he barely knew you but you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

hes so cutie

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils #new jersey #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey #86 eighty six #86

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murdockparker · 1 month

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Promises, Promises

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Five years is a long time to be together, Peter knew that. Peter also knew that everything was expensive—but he had an idea. A little juvenile, sure, but it was an idea regardless.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of sex (no smut), reader is a nerd, Star Wars hot take?

A/N: I haven't written for Peter in a hot second, but I'm glad to get back into the swing of things ;) i'll see myself out now

An old pop song blasted through the small shop, possibly from the eighties or nineties, it was hard to decipher, given that the boombox playing the song was probably older than she was.

“Do you need more toilet paper?” She asked across the aisle, hoping someone would answer back—a certain someone in particular.

“Nah,” she could see a mop of brown shake from over the packages, “I just bought some last week.”

“Peter, if you’re lying to me and you’re out of toilet paper again I swear on all that is holy—”

“Babe,” Peter said softly, peaking around the corner, “trust me. It’s not gonna be like last time.”

“Oh? You mean the time I was stranded on your toilet while you ran out to buy some more?” She nearly had laughed at the memory, but decided against it, having far more fun antagonizing her boyfriend. “That last time?”

He went positively crimson, from his neck to his ears. He always looked good in red, she thought, but she liked this red the best. “I am one thousand percent positive—I think I still have the receipt in my back pocket.”

“You said you bought some last week though? You haven’t washed those jeans yet?”

Peter shrugged. “I haven’t worn these that many times since last week…”

She laughed at that, pulling a bag of chips off of the shelf. Changing her mind, she pulled another as well—her favorite and his favorite. “Okay pretty boy, I believe you. I also believe we’ll be making a stop to the laundromat tonight, too.”

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Peter groaned, grabbing the snacks from her and holding them close. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Obviously you haven’t been in the mood for a week,” she rolled her eyes. “But sure, we can go tomorrow. Tonight, we feast like twelve year olds and binge our favorite movies.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Peter sighed, leaning up against the shelf, eyes locked on her. “A pretty girl willing to watch Star Wars, eat cheese puffs and date me?”

“Don’t forget the hot, hot sex you’ll have with the pretty girl after,” she winked, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Speaking of—”

“Restocked those too,” Peter said proudly. “Bought them with the toilet paper—could show you the receipt if you want. Bet you’re glad I held onto it, right?”

She pushed him away, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I take the offer of sex back, I’m still not over those dirty jeans.”

“I’ll shower!”

“Just buy the snacks,” she laughed, shoving him towards the cashier. “I’ll rethink my offer in the meantime.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Peter saluted, turning hot on his heels to the front. She couldn’t help but smile, watching him laugh with the bodega owner, pulling crumpled bills out of his pockets and pressing them against the counter. There was hardly anything that Peter Parker could do that she didn’t find endearing—find something to smile about.

“Local news tonight, late last night in Manhattan, our favorite web slinger was seen assisting with directing traffic during the power surge,” a reporter on the T.V. in the corner of the store announced, the screen showed Spider-Man waving traffic along, webbing a car to stop before it crashed into another oncoming vehicle. “Local authorities showed up minutes later to take over, sans-webs.”

“Huh,” she clicked, feeling her smile grow wider. “He's been spending time in Manhattan?”

“Spider-Man gets around town,” Peter shrugged, finally returning beside his girlfriend, their purchases in white plastic bags. “Can’t always stay in Queens, can he?”

“Helps if Spider-Man goes to school in Manhattan, no?” She teased quietly, elbowing Peter lovingly.

“He had time after class,” his voice matched her own, low and slow, opening the door and finally walking out onto the street. “What? Was he expected to let everyone crash their cars while the stoplights went out?”

“No,” she hummed, noticing quickly how Peter took the outside of their strides, closest to the street. He always did that. The notion warmed her heart, the feeling flooding to her toes. “Good thing he was there to help out. I’m sure the police were thankful.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay,” she conceded, head falling onto his shoulder. “Yeah, that was dumb to say.”

The rest of the walk was silent, as silent as it could get in New York City, anyhow. Comfortable, the beats of the city passing by with every step towards Peter’s apartment, hands intertwined with the other. Occasionally, he’d tug her back and stop her from stepping into the street, clearly knowing she’s not paying attention to the changing pedestrian signs. She’d squeeze his hand back in thanks.

“Have you thought more about moving in?” Peter asked, trying his best to unlock the door to his apartment, wrists heavy from the bags. “Y’know, I’m sure I can get you added to the lease if I asked.”

“Thought about it,” she hummed, gently taking the bags from him. “I just… your place is a bit small.”

“What?” He scoffed, finally pushing the door open and allowing her to enter. “You’re saying this luxurious suite is too small?”

It was comical, the timing of his statement. She could hardly turn her neck and she’d get a full view of Peter’s apartment—minus the bathroom. He could only afford a studio, and even then it was bursting at the seams, with all of his school work, his work work and his ‘unofficial’ work work, the place was a mess. He tried his best to keep it tidy, he really did. It was never filthy, just overrun by stuff.

“Babe, you’re growing out of your own space,” she laughed, double checking she locked the door behind them—it had a habit of sticking. “How’d you think I’d fit in here?”

“Preferably on my lap, or in my bed,” he smirked. “But… yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a little cramped.”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, or love spending time here,” (Y/N) clarified. “Hell, you’d think after all these years I’d have moved on if that was the case.”

“Has it been that long?” He asked rhetorically, opening the bags in the kitchen—if you could call it that.

“I won’t even pretend to act insulted you’ve forgotten how long we’ve been together, Parker.”

“Time flies when you’re in love,” Peter nearly sings. “Five years is a long time, feels like just yesterday I was nervously asking you out.”

“I asked you out,” she corrected. “I know, I know, five years and a hell of a lot of brain damage from crime fighting can make you misremember—”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I distinctly remember sliding a note in your locker between classes. Super cute, very sappy, I might add.”

She hopped up on his counter, with what little space he had free, anyway. “Did you? You seem to be forgetting how I pulled you aside after science class and, very confidently, I might add, asked you out for milkshakes after school.”

“That was the day I left you the note,” Peter blinked. “I just assumed you read it and were moving the process along.”

“Wait,” she barked a laugh. “I thought you left the note after I asked you out?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “Left it for you that morning, chemistry wasn’t until after lunch.”

“Huh,” she breathed, shoulders deflating. “I guess we both asked each other out on the same day.”

“Can’t believe it took us five years to figure that out,” Peter laughed, patting her thigh.

“Knowing us? I’m surprised it didn’t take us ten.”

Ten years.

Ten years with her.

The thought alone made Peter buzz with happiness.

“We’re both pretty smart people,” Peter squeaked out, fighting his own body, hoping and praying a childish blush won’t give him away. “We would’ve figured it out before then.”

“I dunno, seems unlikely,” she opened a bag of chips, impatient to start their evening. “What are we starting with tonight? Phantom Menace?”

“We started with Phantom Menace last time, chronological order,” he scrunched his nose. “I think we should go by release order this weekend, just to shake things up.”

“Okay, nerd,” she said, her voice filled with affection. Hopping off the counter, she walked towards his couch. “I’ll go get A New Hope set up, then. You plate the snacks.”

“I’ll pull out my finest china,” Peter said. He opened the cabinets to find two bowls, one for each of the bags of chips. They were mismatched and two totally different sizes, but they were free from the old neighbors, so he made do.

“Y’know, I don’t think the debate between release order versus chronological order is all that great,” (Y/N) said, mostly to herself. “I mean, there’s a thousand other things Star Wars fans can get caught up in arms in, but the order in which to watch the movies? Oh no, someone man the Reddit boards! What a crock of shit. It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re all good movies.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by his girlfriend’s rant. “All of them? That’s a controversial opinion.”

“If I had a good time watching it, it was a good movie,” (Y/N) said simply. “Not everyone’s a critic.”

“Clearly.”

“Do you not agree?”

“I agreed the last time we had this conversation,” Peter droned, though not bored in the slightest. “Though, I will admit, I was perhaps a bit distracted, on account of your nakedness.”

“Our pillow talk gets heated,” she said, no hint of shame in her voice. “Only intellectual conversations afterwards, to ground us and all after… everything.”

“Because the sex is that good?”

“Because the sex is that good,” she agreed.

“Maybe I should plan that shower soon,” he grinned, walking over to his loving girlfriend. “Delay our marathon…”

“I didn’t walk all the way here just for sex, you know,” (Y/N) hummed, the couch shifting at Peter’s added weight. “An added bonus, for sure, but I came here to pig out and watch silly little movies set in space with my pretty boyfriend.”

“Pretty boyfriend?”

“The prettiest,” she giggled, slipping a kiss to the tip of his nose. It’s not her fault he has such a kissable face—lips, cheeks, nose, wherever. “Big doe eyes, loads of freckles, smoochy cheeks—”

“Which ones?”

A pillow—one she had bought him months ago—met his face with a quick thump. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly smoochable,” Peter giggled, feeling lighter than air. “You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice all thick and lovey, “I know.”

Peter looked at her like she held the world in her hands, sitting beside him on his old couch—one that they had both moved up the stairs together two years ago—he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Everything was right in the world, everything was right in his heart.

“Are you gonna press play?”

He shook his head a bit, dumping his lovesick thoughts out of his ears. “Oh! Yeah, right. The movie.”

She pulled a blanket up on them, snuggling closer to Peter as the opening fanfare begun to play. With the text scrolling on the screen, one he hardly needed to read to know what it said given his near-memorization of the film, he felt at peace.

—

Mindlessly scrolling on his phone, it was usually how he spent his mornings, to wake himself up. He knew about the studies with blue light and stimulation of that sort of activity and wakefulness—having heard it enough from the party beside him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Apartment listings.

She was right, his studio was too small for the both of them, and it was only fitting if they were going to start a life together—living with one another—that they had ample space. Besides, they were graduating within the year anyhow, so location wasn’t terribly important. In the city would be nice, given his… other occupation, but he could get used to living outside of Manhattan again. It was quieter, usually, and only by a small percent. Cheaper, too. Thank God for his scholarships, he wouldn’t have made it very far without them.

She stirred next to him, pulling his comforter mostly off of him. He didn’t need it right now, anyway. Not when she was sleeping so soundly. He craved these weekends, when they both had a break from school and work—most of the time anyway. Peter Parker knew in his heart of hearts that he needed this every day. Perhaps forever.

Forever.

That seemed so out of reach five years ago, but now? Peter simply couldn’t see a life without her in it. With their hectic schedules, his being all-encompassing, marriage was out of the question, at least for a few years. That’s why the apartment was so important to him, a piece of forever within their grasp.

“Maybe…” Peter sighed, clicking his phone off, afraid to breathe louder than necessary.

She didn’t seem to wake, anyhow.

—

“Why do weekends here go by so fast?”

“At the laundromat?”

(Y/N) gave him a knowing glance. “Yes, Pete, weekends fly by here at the laundromat.”

“Come on,” Peter laughed, stacking his jeans—fresh out of the dryer. “It’s not so bad. They have those magazines you like.”

“Magazines from years ago—”

“There was that one from the eighties you found two months ago,” Peter pointed. “Stuck under one of the dryers?”

She smiled at the memory. “True. That was kinda fun. Seeing all the dated hairstyles and outfits was a treat. But you knew what I meant, use that big brain of yours.”

“It probably has something to do with the fact we like spending time with one another,” Peter began, patting the top of his laundry pile. “Y’know, makes the time go by faster.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I mean, logically, that’s probably the answer.”

“Logically? As opposed to illogically?”

“I could shove a sock down your throat right now, Parker,” she said seriously, holding up a balled up blue sock of his. “No one here would stop me. So cut it out with the smart ass-ness.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Such a scary girlfriend I have, threatening me with socks.”

“Maybe instead of kryptonite like Superman, your weakness is socks? I need to capitalize on that venture before anyone else does,” she said, throwing the sock into the laundry basket. “Once I crack that code, I can sell it to all the big baddies of New York.”

“And maybe with all of the money you make, we could invest in a place for us,” Peter said.

“A house on the water,” she said dreamily. “Four bedrooms, an office—maybe one for both of us? Oh! An open kitchen sounds nice too, one with stone counters and fancy wood cabinets—real wood, not particle board. One of those farmhouse sinks?”

“If you share Spider-Man’s one weakness to all the big baddies of New York, don’t you think you’d have a hard time sharing a life with him after?” Peter asked, the sounds of the machines drowning out their conversation well enough. They practically had the whole place to themselves anyway, it seemed safe enough to talk about. “You know, considering that the spider is likely dead?”

“Hm…” she tapped her chin. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“We could start with an apartment, first,” Peter chuckled, throwing bits of his laundry basket into the washer. “I was looking at listings—”

“I thought you wanted me to move into your place?”

“We need a place of our own,” Peter said. “You were right, my studio isn’t going to cut it, and I want to spend more time together. Our weekends are the best time of the week, and any night I spend with you is a night where I actually get some semblance of sleep—for the most part, anyway.”

The entire laundromat lit up, Peter was certain her smile was the culprit.

“You were looking at listings?” She asked shyly, digging through the basket to help Peter load the washer.

“Most of it was out of our budget,” he admitted, “but it was a start.”

She hummed in agreement. “We’ll look together tonight, then.”

“Sounds perfect,” Peter grinned. “Oh! Could you double check my pockets? I keep forgetting change and stuff in them.”

“What about old receipts?” (Y/N) giggled, obliging to his request. She pulled a pair of khakis out of the basket, gingerly fishing her hand in the pockets. “I think I’m entitled to any change I find, Parker.”

“You can have whatever you find,” Peter agreed, his voice a little shaky.

Turning the back pockets inside out, she found nothing in the first pair, throwing it unceremoniously into the washer. With a bit more haste, she rifled through the second pair—the pair she had bought him a while back. Her fingers came across something round and cool. Change, it had to be.

“I think I just became twenty five cents richer,” she laughed, pulling the item out of the pocket, expecting a quarter. Instead, it was a smooth ring, delicate and without any stones, but still elegant. “What…?”

“It’s not a house on the water,” Peter started, looking down at the ring in her hands. “It’s also not a new apartment, but it’s a start, right?”

“Peter Parker, if you’re proposing to me in a laundromat—”

“It’s also not a proposal,” he corrected, “I’m gonna get you a better ring for that, I promise. Besides, it’s not very romantic here, is it?”

She looked up at him, his eyes staring into her own. Big and beautiful, that’s what she always thought of his eyes. Like they held the answer to every question in the universe, and in a way, they did. “It’s a promise ring?”

He shrugged, his ears growing a bit pink. “When you say it like that it sounds a little… middle school, but in a way, yeah, it is a promise ring.”

“Girls my age are expecting engagement rings,” she said, looking back down at the ring in her hand. It was her size, she didn’t even need to try it on to know it. How did he figure out her ring size?

“I promise baby,” Peter stepped towards her, grabbing her hand, closing her fingers around the ring. “I’m gonna get you that ring. I just thought it’d be nice to have something to wear on your finger in the meantime—before we do real adult things like move in together. A-and this way, you can help me pick out your real engagement ring! I have a really good idea of what you like, but I don’t ever want you to look down at your hand and thing ‘man, I wish Peter chose this instead of this’, you know?”

“Honey,” (Y/N) said, looking back up at him. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m nervous.”

She chuckled. “How do you expect yourself to actually propose if you can hardly give me a promise ring?”

“Hadn’t thought that far,” Peter shook his head. “But it’s for you, I’m willing to do anything for you.”

He meant that.

She knew he meant that.

“Am I supposed to put it on myself?”

Peter quickly scrambled to open her hand to grab the ring from her, nearly dropping the thing. “You want to wear it?”

“My boyfriend got me a pre-engagement ring,” she nearly rolled her eyes. “You expect me not to wear it?”

He pushed the ring onto her left hand, fourth finger. Peter gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lovingly. “I promise, you’ll get a better ring from me one day. S-soon! Like, as soon as I have the money, I swear to it, honestly.”

“Pete,” she placed her now-ring-clad hand on his face.

“Right,” his shoulders deflated, “rambling. Sorry.”

She kissed his cheek. “It’s all very sweet and very you, Peter Parker. I love it.”

A dryer alarm buzzed, startling the both of them. “You do?”

“Well, I love you, and that’s enough,” (Y/N) smiled. “Besides, I like the idea of wearing a ring you got me—and the idea of helping you pick out the real thing? That basically sold the idea for me.”

“You’d say yes if I asked?”

“I agreed to your pre-engagement engagement ring, did I not? You’re not losing me that easily, Peter. I’m gonna hold out for the real thing.”

“We’ll go ring shopping as soon as we find a place,” Peter said seriously. “Move in, graduate, all that.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“A lot,” Peter agreed. “Sometimes it helps to fill the time when I’m swinging around town. I usually am thinking about you, anyway, anytime of day.”

“That’s so crazy,” she said, voice teetering on sarcastic. “Because I’m usually thinking about you, too.”

“Pretty crazy,” he smiled, pulling her into him. With careful hands, he lifted her face towards his, a silent invitation. One she was more than happy to respond to.

Kissing Peter Parker was one of life’s greatest pleasures, she was sure of it. Granted, she had really never kissed anyone else, high school sweethearts and all of that, but she knew it really couldn’t get better than this. The slightly chapped kisses, the way he would lick his lips when they parted, how he would nip at her bottom lip in protest if she thought about stopping the kiss too soon—it was all perfect. Of course, kissing in a slightly shady laundromat was a bit of a turn off.

“Pete,” she said, pulling back.

“Can I not kiss my girlfriend?” He nearly begged, holding her against him a bit tighter.

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” she said seriously. “I mean, not with this flashy new ring and all—seems a bit juvenile with that title, no?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Partners,” she shrugged, feeling him pepper kisses against her cheek, her nose. “It seems more grown up, anyway. Now, when I go into class or work and they comment on my ring I can say, ‘oh, my partner got me that’.”

“Babe, I’m your partner in anything,” he laughed, pressing his forehead against her own. “If you’d like to change our terms of endearment—I’m all aboard.”

“It’d only be for a short while, anyway,” (Y/N) said, smirking against his lips, capturing them in another kiss. “Then I can call you my fiancé…”

“Romantic.”

“Then my husband,” she teased.

“Oh I do like the sound of that,” Peter nodded. “(Y/N) Parker has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“What about Peter (Y/L/N)?” (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow. “You could be progressive.”

“We could hyphenate?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Parker is a fine last name. A little basic, but perfectly suitable.”

“We’re kinda basic people, are we not?” Peter chuckled.

“Let me just go and ask your friend Spider-Man that,” she said seriously. “I’m sure he’d disagree?”

“Oh, speaking of!” Peter stepped away from her. “I need to wash… well, y’know—”

“It’s already soaking in the sink back at your place,” she said simply. “Trying to get all the dried blood off of it and all.”

Peter’s eyes nearly melted in affection. “What would I ever do without you?”

She smiled back in kind, a lovesick sort of way. “Not your laundry, that’s for sure. Come on, Parker, we’ve gotta finish this load. Sooner we’re done, the sooner we can go home.”

A rogue ray of sunlight hit her new ring just right, making the band shine brightly against her hand as she continued to throw his dirty clothing into the washing machine. “Yeah, let’s finish this up,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #spider-man #marvel x reader #spider-man imagines #it works for any peter I promise!!#mcu peter parker #tasm peter parker

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 9 months

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HI HI DOVE :DD im so excited for the event!! your writings always make me kick my feet and giggle c:

so yk my undying live for the one and only jade leech ^^ (even if the bitey bastard refuses to show his face in gacha >:0) and i see [fairytale scene] fits his love for nature C:

jade and cottagecore hmmmmm 👀 well there goes my brain and my spine—

REMEMBER TO HYDRATE AND UNSHRIMP YOUR SPINE TOO DOVE :DD

Fairytale Scene; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, mutual pining, yearning

Content Warning; Some swearing

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I don't even know how I ended up with this, but it's cute! Hopefully, this makes up for the bitey bastard refusing to come home!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You felt like you were living in a dream, a picture-perfect dream that only existed in fairytales. How else could you have ended up alone in a quaint cottage on the edge of the sea with Jade Leech; the man that had captured your heart since day one? And despite Floyd and Azul basically making the two of you pack up your bags for a week-long vacation with the crush that you swore was secret — as you hadn’t uttered a word to anybody — you found yourself and Jade alone with just each other for an entire seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes, alone. Scratch that, maybe not a dream, this seemed more like a plot of some cheesy rom-com where both of the characters confessed their love to each other on the beach. But there was no chance that Jade, the Jade Leech would do that… right?

“You seem distracted, Prefect.”

You jumped and hit your head against the hanging flower bed since the two of you were doing some sprucing up in the garden. You were fine, but your clumsiness sent a pot crashing to the ground, leaving you more embarrassed than anything. “Nope! Perfectly fine!” But the rise in octave betrayed you.

If it were anyone else, Jade would have found it amusing, which he still did, but instead of just chuckling at your misfortune, he helped you get out from under the flower bed, and made sure that you weren’t hurt. “Hmm, are you alright, my dear,” he hummed, looking you over for any cuts.

I’m not okay, no, especially with you looking at me like that and calling me dear. I think I’m going to have a stroke here. “Yeah! Just my own clumsiness is all—” you stopped mid-sentence, and stared at Jade.

The mid-afternoon sun cast him in a warm light, turning his eyes into a glowing gold, and highlighting the olive of his right eye. The ocean glittered behind him. He had a few leaves stuck in his hair, and some dirt on his face, so unlike his clean and refined state that you usually saw him in. And the look he was giving you… it was so soft, so full of worry, concern, and love.

Perhaps you had hit your head hard enough to give yourself a concussion, with your luck it was more likely than your feelings being reciprocated.

And Jade’s staring at you was not helping the manner, he was looking you straight in the eye, and you couldn’t look away for some reason. You two hadn’t even been here for a full day yet! How could you expect to survive an entire week of this?!

You weren’t, that was the entire reason the both of you were here. Azul had grown tired of seeing Jade get distracted on the job, and Floyd was getting bored of seeing the two of you do nothing. But you and Jade didn’t need to know that, even if the mer-eel knew what Azul was plotting with this ‘vacation’. This was all a set-up for the two of you to confess, and what a fine set-up it was.

“You need to be more careful,” Jade breathed out, finally putting his concern at ease when he couldn’t find anything wrong.

There he was, giving you that look again. “Uhhhh, okay,” you said eloquently. Who could blame you really?

Jade chuckled softly as he helped you up, brushing some dirt off your shoulders. And before you knew it, you were rubbing off the smudge of dirt that was on his cheek, and he froze, looking at you with a curious look.

Shit, did I cross his boundaries? SHIT-

“You are full of surprises,” he murmured, taking the hand you used to smudge the dirt off his face into his, before placing a kiss on your earth-stained knuckles. A week alone, that’s rather unfair of you Azul, but no need to worry, I shall use it to my advantage. And he then placed a kiss to where you had bumped your head. “Hopefully that speeds up the healing process, my dear.”This is a dream, a fairytale scene. This can’t be actually happening… right? But the lingering sensation of his lips on your cheeks was very much, not a dream.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @hydra-sea @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade leech x gn reader #decided to go mutual pining because brain rot #azul and floyd are hiding in the bushes waiting for either of you to confess. floyd is bored and azul is getting impatient #sha la la la my oh my! go on and ~kiss da eel~#or rather he kisses you #also i want to see him get a lil bit messy; and i remembered about the garden i mentioned in the event post; so you do some garden work #a mix of domestic and fairytale #irene!#I FUCKING FORGOT TO PUT IN PEOPLE'S CUSTOM TAG DAMMIT #all of my eel kisser friends are suffering because of gacha u_u have some food #scheduled post #why do i know so many fish kissers? i mean i'm one of them but still #i do unshrimp my spine; currently laying on my stomach to unshrimp; i unshrimp when i'm editing and doing tags

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moralesmilesanhour · 7 months

Text

mad props!

summary: your one-sided beef with Miles morphs into a full-on rivalry until unforseen circumstances force you to call a truce. wc: 789 a/n: drabbles when left to cook in the brain for too long turn into mini-series. watch out ! also yes i am doing another enemies-to-lovers thingy don't look at me 01 02

Snap!

You sucked your teeth in the middle row of Mr. Sanchez’s classroom when the tip of your pencil broke in the middle of your rapid note-taking.

It broke just as you were forming the tilde that was meant to float above the letter ‘n’, creating an odd downward stroke instead that looked like lightning striking a tree.

You zipped open your pencil case and took out a tiny metal sharpener, the shavings bound to make a mess of your desk.

“Yikes. That’s why I use the mechanical ones,” remarked the boy sitting beside you.

A friendly grin spread across his freckled, golden-brown face with round eyes that seemed to ask if you thought his comment was funny.

You shot him a hard glance to let him know that no, it was not funny that your pencil broke whilst you were in the middle of getting down key grammatical rules.

The boy’s face fell at the implied rejection. Somehow, the wounded look in his eyes irritated you more than the grin. It made him look like a lost deer.

“Morales, silencio, por favor,” Sanchez said, peering over his glasses at your shoulder partner. “Unless you’d like to explain how direct object pronouns work instead.”

“No, estoy bien.”

There was no sign of panic or apology on Morales’ face as he replied, despite Mr. Sanchez being known to seek out inattentive students to cold-call later. He smiled awkwardly at the bearded man, and again when he was caught a bit later doodling in his notebook.

“Miles Morales, can you translate this sentence for us please?”

“Fui a Madrid el verano pasado,” Miles answered, without missing a beat.

The man shook his head, then moved on.

“Correct. Now, who would like to take the next sentence…”

You would soon learn over the coming weeks since your transfer to Visions that this was a daily routine for Miles: he’d come in late, or get caught scribbling away in the margins of his worksheet. Then he’d get that panicked “help me” smile on his face before making a pun or quip that made you cringe so hard that your back hurt.

Still, Miles’ answers were never wrong after the fact.

He blended into the crowd otherwise, but the second-hand embarrassment made him hard to forget.

“Quiz grades were surprisingly low,” Mr. Sanchez announced one Wednesday morning as he walked around, handing out one-page sheets face down. “I would highly suggest going over this unit at home over the long weekend.”

Almost immediately, kids began passing each other’s quizzes back and forth, giggling at how their results all seemed to be floating just under fifty percent. Part of the ease in their laughter came from the assumption that Sanchez would “just curve it anyway.”

Not that it would make a difference to you.

You frowned at the eighty-five circled in red at the top of your quiz. Just a couple of points away from a nice, even ninety that would’ve finally bumped your grade up to an ‘A’ instead of an ‘A-’.

Even worse, some of the circled questions were points lost just because you were missing an accent on a letter or two, and a couple of vocab words had slipped your mind. You should’ve answered the bonus questions…

“Wow, you’re the only one without a forty so far,” a familiar voice complimented you. “Good job.”

Miles was offering you another friendly grin, with those same expectant eyes. Please like me, they seemed to plead.

No thanks.

You replied flatly, “I actually studied.”

It felt like an insult for anyone to be impressed with you in a class full of failing grades.

His grin faded. You expected it to be replaced with disappointment, but he just shrugged and pressed his lips into a thin line before turning away.

Sanchez returned to where you were sitting to hand Miles’ test back.

He spoke solemnly, “You and L/N were the only passing grades in this class.”

You caught a glance at the number marked atop the page once Miles flipped it over:

‘100%’. With five points as extra credit.

He looked down at it and hummed quietly in approval before flipping it back over, and suddenly that ‘A-’ felt like a ‘C’.

It was only logical that the guy who never got an answer wrong would perform similarly on a quiz. But he didn’t deserve it; he didn’t even care.

“How many hours did you study for that?” you scoffed quietly, like an accusation.

Miles gave you a sidelong glance, and you could’ve sworn there was mockery in his eyes.

“I don’t study.”

If you could go back and pinpoint the exact moment where irritation boiled over into disdain, it would be this one.

#miles morales fic #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #atsv x reader #miles morales headcanons #moralesanhour

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fallatyourfeet · 1 year

Text

Swanky Suits (Arthur x Female Reader)

One Shot

Credit to Gif creator- sorry I don't know who you are

Summary: Arthur is taken completely by surprise after being sent by Ada to get a new suit

Word count: 1322

Warnings: Awkward adorable Arthur. He gets a bit nervous and anxious.

Author's Note: This was only supposed to be around 500-700 words. Big fail. Also, can't believe I've posted two fics in a week. What the hell is happening to me.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

This place seemed far too swanky for Arthur, he felt completely out of place, but Ada had insisted he come. “Trust me Arthur, they’re the best tailors in London… you won’t be disappointed.” Looking at himself in the mirror out front of the change room, he had to agree. The pants and shirt were the nicest things he had ever worn, and he hadn’t even tried on the jacket yet. But still, no matter how much money he had lining his pockets, this place just felt a little too fancy for a boy from Small Heath. Maybe Tommy could get away with it, but him? Not a chance.

Walking up behind him, jacket in hand, came the attendant who helped him with his fittings last week, his posh London accent and manner doing nothing to ease Arthur’s inner monologue. Walking in a circle around him, he looked him up and down and nodded, quite pleased with himself, “The shirt and pants are a perfect fit, they won’t need any alterations at all.”

Moving behind him, he held open the jacket so Arthur could put his arms in and slipped it up over his shoulders. Then walking back around, he adjusted the lapels and buttoned it up, before stepping back, looking slightly disappointed, “The jacket is going to need some tweaking.” Placing a finger to his chin, the attendant sighed with thought. “It doesn’t need much… I might get our seamstress to have a look, she’s out the back. Otherwise, our tailor’s back tomorrow if you want to wait.” Unsure how to gauge Arthur’s expression, he added, “She’s very good… you won’t be disappointed.”

Arthur sniffed, visibly rolling his eyes as he adjusted the jacket, had this guy been talking to Ada? Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Yeah, alright, let her ‘ave a look.”

The attendant disappeared out back, leaving him in front of the mirror, and he couldn’t help but admire the cut and feel of the fabric. Arthur knew he was hardly posh and refined like ninety nine percent of the shops cliental, but he knew a bloody good suit when he saw one. And this was one of the best.

Moving to the edge of the store counter, he was flicking through a collection of swatches, taken completely off guard when to the side of him, someone spoke, “Arthur? ….. Arthur Shelby?”

An oddly familiar voice which Arthur couldn’t quite place, spoke his name. A voice from his childhood, only much more mature than he remembered. The edges to the Birmingham accent were a little softer, the volume somehow fuller, richer. A voice smoother than honey. ‘Hmmm’, he thought quite innocently, ‘a man could get used to a sound like that.’

Turning towards the voice, he almost jumped when he saw you. Dropping the swatches to the ground his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, standing straight as an arrow like a naughty child being caught in an act of mischief. He recognised you straight away. Even if he were an eighty-year-old man that hadn’t seen you in sixty years, he’d still know exactly who you were. His childhood crush. The girl who made his heart fly whenever she was near. The girl to which no other could compare. The girl he wanted to grow up and marry… And the girl who up and moved to London with her family when he was barely fifteen. Moved before he even found the courage to ask her out.

Arthur spoke your name, “YN?” It was almost a whisper. ‘Fuckin hell,’ he thought, you were even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled in response, and if his cheeks were pink before, they must be bright scarlet by now. Not sure what to do or say, he fumbled over his words, before blurting out, “You… you’re the seamstress?”

Lifting your hands, you laughed a little, waving the measuring tape and pin cushion they held, “I am… and these are the weapons of my trade.” Moving towards him, you placed them down on the counter, taking in every inch of his face, turning his poor scarlet cheeks crimson. “It’s good to see you, Arthur. My goodness, it must be what…? Twenty years?”

You moved even closer. Slipping your hands inside his jacket you went about your work, pinning together the alterations when your hand brushed against his side. It almost made him freeze, and he thanked God that it wasn’t his pants that needed altering, your close proximity making it hard for him to think. But somehow, he managed, “Uh, yeah. It’s been exactly twenty years.”

Looking up at him, you smiled the sweetest smile, your eyes looking strangely humbled that he knew exactly how long it had been since he saw you last. And it did nothing to ease the building flutters in his chest. He was a grown man, and a few minutes in your presence had him acting like an awkward teenager again. Arthur’s thoughts were a mess, scrambling to find something else to say, “So, ah, how long you been workin’ here?”

Biting your lip, you looked at the ring on your finger, before answering, sadness gathering in your eyes and voice, “Since my husband left for France.”

Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking, needing no more explanation to realise your husband did not return. And his heart broke for you. The thought of you hurting, in any shape or form, made him uneasy, made him want to reach out and comfort you. Placing a hand to your arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze. No words needed to be exchanged, you knew what he was trying to say.

With a small nod, you smiled softly, distracting yourself by getting back to the task at hand, making a few quick adjustments with your pins and measuring tape. Seemingly satisfied, you took a step back to make a full inspection, announcing quietly, “That should do it.”

Slipping the jacket from his shoulders, you placed it over your arm before fixing the collar of his shirt, your fingertips creating a trail of goosebumps when they brushed along his neck, and that was when he knew he was in trouble. Just one touch against his bare neck and all those buried teenage feelings came rushing back, hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Never to be suppressed again. And he knew himself well enough to realise that if he didn’t act on those feelings today, he was going to end up with a whole god damned wardrobe full of swanky suits. When what he really wanted was you.

Breaking through his trainwreck of thoughts, you touched his elbow, your eyes searching for something in his, “Arthur, this will only take me ten minutes… will you wait? Or” You paused, your expression changing the slightest bit, “Or did you want to come back tomorrow?”

With a deep breath, Arthur cleared his throat, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were trembling. “Ah, yeah, I can wait.” Feeling sick to the stomach, he shuffled on his feet, taking his hands out to run them through his hair, before returning them to his pockets, “Um, when do you knock off from here?” Clearing his throat again, Arthur worked hard to keep eye contact, fuck you were the loveliest thing he had ever seen. “I mean, if you want to, we could catch up… I could take you out for dinner or… or somethin.”

You answered with a smile. It was so sweet and warm, and genuine. And he dared to hope that just maybe you weren’t going to turn him down. With his heart beating in his throat, he waited for your reply. It was just a few fleeting moments, a few short moments that felt like an eternity. But your answer came, and he could barely believe his ears. “Yes, Arthur. Thank you. Dinner or somethin’ would be lovely.”

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby fanfic #arthur shelby #arthur shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #arthur shelby imagine

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month

Text

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 5

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

2 weeks later.... Friday

Eli: There’s a refresher and a donut waiting for u at the L&D desk ms I don’t like coffee.

Kiyana rolled her eyes with a grin as she texted Eli back. Josh narrowed his eyes as he watched Kiyana smile down at her phone. He tried to ignore it but when she started to actually giggle at the fucking phone he snuck around the kitchen counter and tried to get a peek at who she was texting but she caught on and quickly locked her phone and set down on the counter.

“You need something?” She asked, rolling her eyes when his eyes glanced down at her phone. “You got anything planned today or yall just gonna chill?” She asked, grabbing her lunch out of the fridge. When she turned back around he had her phone in his hands.“HEY!” She called out, snatching her phone out of his hands. “What are you doing?”

“You changed your password?” She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why were you trying to go through my phone? We are div-”

“Divorced. Yeah you keep bringing it up.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag.

“I get off at 9. Will y’all be good until then?” Josh nodded, his jaw was clenched tight as he kept thinking about how Kiyana changed her password to her phone. Kiyana rolled her eyes at his attitude before walking out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“I love you!” She called out to the boys and Josh heard them call it back before the front door slammed shut.

“Love you too.” He muttered before going to join his sons in the living room.

“So you at Dr. Daniels seem to be getting close.” Debra , the senior nurse stated as she eyed the drink in Kiyana’s hand. Kiyana shrugged

“He’s cool.”

“Cool enough to be talking about asking you on a date.” Debra said, smirking when Kiyana snapped her head towards her.

“No, we’re just friends.” Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt. Her inner voice said.

Debra rolled her eyes. “Honey, I helped deliver Elijah forty-something years ago and that man still doesn't bring me coffee everyday.” Kiyana bit her lip and looked down the hall to where Eli was talking with another nurse. “Look, I know you just got divorced but shit, take the chance. You don’t have to fall in love with him.” Kiyanna sighed and shook her head, it was way too soon for her to even think about going on a date with another man. Her divorce was still fresh, like an open wound.

“ I think Key already talking to somebody else.” Josh blurted out as he, Trinity and Jon sat in their backyard, keeping a close eye on his two older boys who were swimming. He had put Kairo down for a nap.

“Well you were fucking someone else while y’all were married so who cares.” Trin said, smacking Jon on his shoulder when he elbowed her in her ribs. “I mean what did you expect? Kiyana is very attractive and now she’s single.” Trin shrugged.

“Don’t kick the man while he’s down Trin.”

“Yeah, damn Trinity. I thought we were better than that.” Josh tried to joke but Trinity was still very pissed off at him. “I know I fucked up. But it’s only been two weeks.”

“How long is she supposed to wait? Until you’re ready for her to move on?” Trin rolled her eyes. “Leave that woman alone. Her life is no longer a concern of yours..” Josh didn’t say anything as he brought his attention back to his sons. How was I supposed to get her back if she’s moved on already?

“Fuck him” Shanté muttered. “Fuck him and his stupid mullet. It’s 2024, the eighties called, they want their hairstyle back.” She said giggling at her own joke. Nikkita rolled her eyes from where she was sitting on their couch.

“Tae, I been told you to stop messing with that man, She might've divorced him but he still loves her. You can’t compete with that.” Shanté flipped off her best friend and took another swig from the wine bottle they were passing back and forth.

“He told me he never wanted to be with me, Nikki.” Nikkita didn’t respond back because.. Duh. It was pretty obvious. Josh only hit Shanté up after the RAW tappings on Monday’s and as soon as he would fly back home to Pensacola he would block her, then start the cycle all over again the next Monday. Nikkita felt bad for her friend but she had also warned her the first time Shanté had told her she hooked up with Josh.

Kiyana was Josh’s high school sweetheart and from experience, Nikkita knew that Shanté never stood a chance.

Kiyana let out a sigh of relief as she clocked out for the day. She can finally go home and be with her boys for 3 whole days. Just as she was about to walk out the front door she heard her name being called. She turned and smiled once she saw it was Elijah.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” He said back slightly out of breath. “I ran all the way down here. Though I missed you.” He smiled at her.

“You just caught me.” She said, feeling herself blush under the heat of his stare. “Wassup?”

“I wanna take you out tomorrow night.” Kiyana blinked. “If it's too soon. I apologize, but I really like you Kiyana.” She clutched her purse strap tighter as she felt the butterflies in her tummy start to rumble around. Kiyana only got that feeling with one man before and she had just divorced him two weeks ago.

Elijah sighed as she just stared at him. “It’s too soon isn’t it?” Kiyana quickly broke out of her stupor and shook her head.

“No,” She cleared her throat. “ I would love to go out with you”

“Yeah?” Eli asked. “Bet, do you have a babysitter for tomorrow?” Kiyana nodded. “Okay, tomorrow at 8. Text me your address.”

Kiyana bit her lip as she watched him run back into the hospital, the butterflies more intense as she thought about their date tomorrow night. She let out a groan and let her head fall back, looking towards the sky. She was so fucking screwed.

Kiyana got her first date since the divorce.. Josh about to be soooooooooooooooooooooooooo fucking petty 😭, y'all just don't understand.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @empressdede @harmshake

@theninthwonder @alyyaanna @nbanenefrmdao @badbitchcentralinc

@abadbitchblogs @raya-hunter01 @msbigredmachine @dietothemusic

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@jeysbae @kill-the-artiste @simpin4pixels @mindairy

#wwe #jey uso #jey uso imagine #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #wwe x black reader #main event jey uso #whatdoeseverybodywant writes #jey uso fanfic #jey uso imagines #jey uso fanfiction #wwe x fem reader #wwe x oc #wwe x you #wwe x y/n #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x fem reader

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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Note

your hand is touching mine and i can't stop myself from taking it & Yoongi

thank you for the request! i've had this sitting in my drafts forever, so it gave me an excuse to finish it (and why it's so long dgkjd one day i will learn what a drabble is). i hope you enjoy it. <3

i call this yoongi's romantic comedy of errors.

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication, fluff/comedy

warnings: reader is taehyung's sister, they're coworkers, yoongi is really bad at asking people out on dates someone pls help our boy, some swearing. this was long and i was too lazy to edit it, so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

wordcount: 2100

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

Yoongi reaches for his wallet, cheeks aching from hours spent laughing.

He’s glad he did this—took a chance, asked you out properly. There’s none of the usual awkwardness that comes along with nights out, none of the dread of having to turn someone down, none of the guilt. No, this had gone well. Better than he ever could’ve imagined, and instead of preparing his trademark I had a great time, but… speech, he’s trying to figure out how to ask you out again without being a floundering, incompetent mess.

But then you reach for your wallet, too, and Yoongi—

“What are you doing?” he laughs, aiming for casual.

It works. You laugh softly, quirking an eyebrow. “Getting my card so we can split the bill.”

The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. “What? I can’t let you pay on a—”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. A record-scratch moment. Because he finally figures out what’s going on, sees the way your eyes widen in panic at Yoongi calling this a date. Surely, he’d been clear enough when he asked you to dinner. He had to have been. He distinctly remembers wearing his best shirt into the office that day. He’d even worn the expensive cologne—the one he’d carefully rationed because you’d complimented it before and he didn’t want it to run out before he got a chance to use it properly.

No, he couldn’t have been that dumb. Still—he wracks his brain, tries to remember how he’d worded it, except now he’s in survival mode and everything’s coming up blank. So he does the only thing he can think of—“I can’t let you pay for your birthday dinner.”—and lies.

What a fucking idiot.

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, like you’re talking to the idiot he most definitely is. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”

The laugh he forces out can only be described as a hellish witch cackle. “I know that,” he insists, “but I just figured why not, you know! Who says you can’t take your friends to birthday dinners four months early?”

You’re nearly stunned into silence. “But this isn’t even our traditional birthday dinner restaurant.”

“I wanted to try something new,” he answers, even though it comes out more like a question. He had wanted to try something new, and look where that’s gotten him. “Hoseok said this place was nice.”

“Yeah, but Hoseok’s been with his partner for eighty years.”

Yoongi’s laugh is pained, now. No more witch cackle, just the dying wheezes of a man running out of excuses and time. One of his favorite things about you is how smart and unwilling to put up with bullshit you are. A week ago, he never would’ve entertained being on the receiving end of it, but now it’s all he can do to tread water. “Oh, really?” he asks, playing stupid. “I didn’t think this place had, like, partner vibes.”

“There’s a little candle on the table,” you deadpan. “There’s a woman in the corner playing a violin. It absolutely has partner vibes.”

“Maybe I just wanted to splurge?”

Your stare is pointed, gaze full of suspicion. “Did you, now.”

There’s a moment where the light breaks through the clouds. Clarity, and Yoongi doesn’t make the same mistake twice. You’re not buying anything he’s selling, so he’s not going to force it. This wasn’t a date for you. He’ll tuck his tail between his legs and take the loss, and it’ll hurt, sure, and it’ll be one of those things that keeps him up at night years into the future, the embarrassment agonizing, but keeping your friendship intact is more important.

So he just sighs. Hands your credit card back to you and ignores your protests. “Of course I did,” he answers. Tries handing the envelope with just his card inside to a passing waiter, but you throw your arm into the aisle to stop him.

“Quit playing with me and tell me what’s going on,” you snap. “You’re being weird and I don’t like it.”

The waiter side-steps your arm and says, “Please unhand me, ma’am.”

(God, Yoongi’s going to have to triple his tip.)

“Shut up, Taehyung, I’m not even touching you.”

(Quadruple it, by the looks of it.)

Taehyung just sighs. “Fuck you, dude. I didn’t bother you the entire time you were on your date, and now you wanna mess with me when I’m just trying to cash out and go home.”

Yoongi says—“Oh, do you know him?”

—at the same time you say, “He’s my broth—what do you mean my date?”

Taehyung looks at you the way you’d looked at Yoongi. “Do you know where you are right now?”

You snap your fingers. “Because it has partner vibes, right?”

“Definitely has partner vibes,” Taehyung agrees. “There’s little candles on the tables.”

You turn to Yoongi. “I told you!” All he can do is shrug. Candles aren’t really his thing, mostly just ambiance, so what does he know.

Taehyung looks between the two of you, clearly running numbers in his head. How to not lose his tip, probably, or maybe envisioning what Yoongi would be like as a brother-in-law. No, wait—

“Okay, I’m gonna go. This is really weird and you’re both very stupid. Bye.”

You roll your eyes. “Yoongi’s just—”

“I literally do not care who my sister is dating! It’s none of my business!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, much to Yoongi’s horror and the dismay of the rest of the patrons.

Once he’s gone, the two of you sit in awkward silence. He’s surprised you’re sticking around. The night has turned into an absolute shitshow, and Yoongi wouldn’t blame you a bit for leaving, though the fact that you haven’t has him hesitantly optimistic. Maybe he can salvage this, figure out a way to explain the miscommunication in a way that doesn’t sound condescending, because I’m sorry I thought I asked you out properly makes you sound like a dunce who can’t comprehend when they’re being asked out properly.

What a mess.

It’s not until Taehyung returns with his card, he’s tipped 50%, and he’s moving to put on his jacket do you speak. “Was he right?”

“Your brother?” Yoongi asks reflexively. You nod and his palms get all sweaty. “Um. I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

You snort. “Honestly, for a start.”

“I—okay,” he acquiesces. “Maybe not here, though. People are still staring and it’s making me want to throw up.”

The two of you move to his car. He turns it on and lets it idle, turns on your seat warmer and the heat because it’s cold outside and he’s already sweating buckets so what difference does it make. He’s got the anxiety shakes, anyway. And it’s not lost on him that this is new, too. Before, the two of you always met up in the city. Separate cars, separate ways. He’d picked you up tonight. Right at seven, just like he’d said, so he can’t figure out where everything had gone sideways.

“Okay, I’m just gonna—I did think this was a date,” he says. Feels good to get it out there, he supposes, but the way your jaw drops doesn’t make him feel too great.

You snap it shut. “Oh. Okay.”

He picks at his dress pants. He knows the fabric is expensive but not what it is. The salesperson at the store said it was one of their best and the charge on his card confirmed it. He’d bought three-million won pants for a date and he’d managed to fuck it all up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Huh? What d’you mean for what. For thinking it was a date when it wasn’t.”

Friendships have survived worse, right? There’s a guy who works with both of you who divorced his wife of ten years and they still go on vacations together all the time, so the two of you are going to be fine. Shit, would Yoongi be able to go to Saint-Tropez with you after a divorce? That’s some heavy shit. That’s almost insane, he thinks. Does he have that kind of maturity? Is it maturity? The guy works in the communications department, so maybe he’s just… good at that? Maybe Yoongi should’ve asked him for some pointers.

“Can I just ask,” you start, and it’s the way you turn in your seat, angling your body towards him, that activates his fight-or-flight. Yoongi’s anxiety is not built for this kind of confrontation. Not at all. “What made you think it was a date?”

“My pants are three-million won,” he blurts out.

“You thought this was a date because… you’re wearing expensive pants?”

He groans. Bonks his head against the steering wheel and nearly has a heart attack when the horn beeps, far too loud for this parking garage. “No, it’s not just the pants. I thought I’d been very clear when I asked you to dinner that it was, like, a date. And then I almost said that and you looked really panicked, like you’d rather be buried alive, so I lied and said it was a birthday dinner even though it obviously wasn’t, and then your brother—and, yeah. I don’t know. Clearly I’m not as good at this as I thought I was.”

“Okay, first of all: yikes.” Yoongi nearly wails. “Secondly: Yoongi, you said you don’t date coworkers! Why the hell would I have thought this was a date?”

“In my defense, I said that a long time ago.”

“And never rescinded it!” you argue back. “Why would I think that’d changed?”

“Well—because!” Your stare is blank. “Because I picked you up—”

“I told you my car is in the shop three days ago—”

“And I’m pretty sure when I asked, I said, do you want to go to dinner with me—”

“Sure,” you concede, “as friends! We always go to dinner together!”

“But…” He sighs, runs his hands down his face. Might as well rip off the bandaid. “My pants.”

“Yoongi, all of your pants are expensive. You make an ungodly amount of money a year.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he tries again.

You groan. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to give you a gift.” You run your hands over your face, and it’s really stupid, Yoongi thinks, because you’re wearing makeup. Did you always wear makeup when the two of you went to dinner? He can’t remember. He knows “no makeup” makeup is a thing, so he’s not all that confident he could tell what is and isn’t makeup, and it hits him for the millionth time this evening how bad he is at this.

“Look,” you continue, “let’s just… go somewhere else.”

“Maybe you should pick, since…” He gestures vaguely at himself.

You nod. “Yeah, good idea. That new ice cream place is close. We could go there.”

Yoongi glances out the window. It’s cold outside. A little gray, too, so it’s probably going to snow, considering it’s the middle of February and it’s been unseasonably cold, even for winter. But it’s not an outright rejection. It’s your idea, and if he dares to think it, the look you’re giving him is hopeful. He’s sure the wires in his brain will overheat and start crackling at the mere thought of you wanting to spend more time with him, so he’s agreeing before he can think twice. If his fucking pants are three-million won, they better keep him warm.

He doesn’t know what to do once you’re out of the car. Does he try to hold your hand? Does he loop his arm through yours? Throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you against his side? He’s already ten steps behind. He’s got a few centimeters on you, but your legs are longer, and it’s a little embarrassing, the hurried waddle he does to catch up. And he must sidle up too close, because your hand brushes against his.

Still warm, even though it’s going to snow. Even though you aren’t wearing gloves. All he can think is that the two of you are on your way to some new ice cream place because you wanted to go there, even though he’s put you through the ringer tonight, so he exchanges his stupidity for bravery. Closes in a little more, smiles when you look up at him and cock an eyebrow.

Because your hand is brushing against his, and he can’t stop himself from taking it.

For the first time all night, he knows it’s the right move when you smile.

#vday drabbles #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #jewel answers

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writtenonreceipts · 6 months

Note

Hi friend! How are you? I hope this sparks some ideas for your secret santa: N.12 for Elorcan, please?

Hi! I've been alright, I survived my holiday weekend and am back to the usual grind! I hope you're doing well! Thanks so much for sending me this, I really did enjoy this one!

from this prompt list

Prompt: "H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.”->I tweaked it just a little.

AO3 Link Here

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Tear In My Heart

The gritty scent of cigarette smoke was the first thing Lorcan noticed when he entered the bar. Being this far out in the middle of nowhere Colorado led to no one caring about enforcing the law about indoor smoking, especially not the owner. Mort never seemed to care about that sort of thing and it showed. Lorcan doubted any sort of deep cleaning would ever rid the place of the stench so there was no use banning smoking. Especially not when it was accompanied by the sharp tang of alcohol and vomit.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere else to get a decent drink around here unless you sat out on your porch with your own. And even Lorcan didn't drink alone.

But there was another reason to come to the bar.

Eighties rock played through the speakers adding to the grungy atmosphere. Dim lights over the counter set everything in an orange haze. Even the neon lights of the different beer logos and other paraphernalia didn't add anything. Two pool tables sat in one of the back corners along with a dart board. No matter how few people were seated at the bar or various tables, it always felt overcrowded and tonight was no different.

All Lorcan focused on, however, was the woman behind the bar.

Her black hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves, framing her face. He'd always found her beautiful, striking really, with her onyx eyes and pale skin, that sarcastic twist of her lips when she made a quip.

She hadn't noticed him yet, which was good, he didn't need to be caught starting. Instead, she was focused on pouring out a drink for the man across the counter from her. She laughed at something he said, though he didn't know what.

Lorcan felt his own blood heat at that and he strode across the hardwood floor in just a few quick steps. When he approached the bar, Elide finally noticed him and a smile lit up her entire face.

"Well, well," she said, sliding the drink to the other customer. "If it isn't Salvaterre."

"Lochan," he said. He took a seat a few stools down from the other man.

"Let me know if you need anything else, Dan," Elide said to the other man. She moved down the bar until she reached Lorcan. With her arms crossed she leaned against the polished wood so she could properly examine him. "You look like hell."

Lorcan rolled his eyes. It was true enough. This past week had been miserable. The small shop he ran had been struggling a bit and things at the ranch were not better. It shouldn't have surprised him, things always slowed down this time of year, but summer had been slower as well. And then there was the fact that he had feelings for the girl he could never have.

"I always look like this," he said. And because he was a bastard, he leaned forward, drawing closer to her.

"Yeah, you should do something about that," she said. Her endless black eyes stared directly into him as though she could see to his very soul. Then with a laugh she pulled back. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. He watched her go as she turned for a new glass, a bottle of whiskey.

Elide had always been the sort of woman he knew he could never have. She was good, first off. She came from a good family with a good background. She'd graduated high school with honors even though she had pretty bad dyslexia. Then when her dad got sick she'd dropped out of college and left everything to move back home and help her mom out with bills by working at a crappy bar that probably doled out even crappier tips.

As she assembled the drink she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Just you tonight?"

"Nah, the twins'll show up eventually," he said. "And Rowan if he can drag himself away from another fight with Galathynius."

Elide snorted a laugh and she turned back to him with the drink. "Aw, upset your best friend actually has a life?"

"You know how annoying that woman is," Lorcan groused. He accepted the drink.

For the last year and a half, Aelin had been working at the Whitethorn ranch as a trauma specialist in youth and children for kids needing help in various forms of therapy. Rowan had inherited the business from his parents and for some reason thought it was a good idea to keep it running. Even if he and his lead psychologist did not get along.

"Yeah, that's why she's my best friend," Elide said drily. "She's a good person."

Lorcan doubted that but he'd shut up. There would be plenty of other chances to put his foot in his mouth tonight.

"I'll take your word for it," he said instead. He took a long drink, ice clinking gently in the cup.

"Well I am a very reliable source," she said.

And then she was gone to fix another round for a couple at one of the far tables. Lorcan watched her go, unable to look away from the sway of her hips or the sliver of skin that peeked out between the edge of her shirt and her jeans.

He only managed to tear his gaze away when the door of the bar opened and Fenrys Moonbeam entered. Lorcan knew it was him without even looking because Fen, annoying as hell, always made sure his presence was known.

"Lochan! How's it going?" Fenrys called, looping over to Lorcan. Behind him was the more subdued Connall, eyes glued to his phone. Lorcan had the sneaking suspicion that Connall was about to start dating someone. But being who he was, wouldn't talk about it until it was an actuality. Even quiet and distracted, Connall still managed to balance out his twin.

"Hi Fenrys," Elide called back. She kept with her current task of drink refills and checking the kitchen on a food order.

When Fenrys dropped into the stool beside Lorcan he smacked a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you're getting obvious, right?" Fenrys asked. "What's this? Three nights in a row?"

"He's not that much of a psychopath," Connall spoke, he dropped into the seat on the far side of Fenrys. "He puts a day between the visits."

"Shut up," Lorcan growled. He took another sip of whiskey, relishing in the bite as it slid down his throat.

Somehow, in some pathetic and sad twist of fate, his friends had learned of his crush on Elide. He blamed it on a night a few months ago involving too much tequila and spur of the moment round of truth or dare. It was pathetic enough that he was a thirty-year-old man playing truth or dare but to follow that up with the admission of having a crush? Pathetic.

He really had to get a life.

"You should make a move 's all I'm saying," Fenrys said. He snagged a half-filled bowl of pretzels from down the bar and dragged it closer so he could snack.

"He's right," Connall added, finally looking up from his phone. "She's not going to stay single forever. I heard Archer Finn wanted to ask her out."

Lorcan couldn't help his scowl. Finn was best described as being a player. One night stands, ghosting, playing games. He wasn't a good person. It was the one thing he could agree with Aelin Galathynius about. He certainly didn't deserve to even talk to Elide.

"Yeah, the scowl's real convincing about your feelings," Connall said.

"Archer's an ass," Lorcan said.

Fenrys laughed. "So are you and she still talks to you."

Lorcan kicked his chair. "Shut up."

"Man." Fenrys shook his head, brushing his blond curls from his eyes. "You've been obsessed with her for years. At this point it's your own fault if she gets picked up by someone else."

"I'm not--" Lorcan began.

"You have her shifts memorized," Connall said, "know her birthday, her mom's birthday, dude you got her flowers on her dads anniversary."

Lorcan was never telling Rowan anything ever again.

"Didn't you fix her car for free too?" Fenrys added, mouth full of pretzels.

In the last five years of knowing Elide, having moved to this town on a whim after school, Lorcan had indeed done all of those things. There had just been something about Elide and the first time he'd met her. It had been at this very bar, just a few months after her dad's passing. He hadn't been in the best of moods, admittedly that was usual for him, and she'd called him out on it.

Their friendship slowly developed from there where he'd learned all those things and more about Elide. He'd been in love with her as long as he could remember.

He couldn't say anything of course because he was Lorcan. He was the town miscreant who usually stayed on his property unless it was to come in for a drink. He managed the stables for the Whitethorn ranch and ran a side mechanic shop. Really, the jobs weren't stable and would likely only get worse from here. His father was an alcoholic, his mother gone since he was eighteen--he wasn't good enough for someone like Elide.

"She's going to figure out you're in love with her eventually," Connall said, "and what are you going to--"

Connall abruptly cut off with a rather colorful curse and Lorcan felt his blood freeze. He abandoned his drink and spun in his stool to find Elide standing behind them, half empty tray of drinks and plates in her hands.

Her eyes were too wide and her lips parted in shock.

"I-" Her gaze bounced between the three of them before settling on the floor. "I'll be out with drinks in a minute."

She dropped the tray on the nearest table and immediately left through the front door of the bar--not through the kitchens.

"Hell,” Lorcan muttered. He stood and punched Fenrys' shoulder for good measure. "Thanks for that."

"Connall's the one that actually said it!" Fenrys shouted.

Lorcan ignored him and launched himself out and across the bar to the door.

The cool air of the night immediately washed over him, clearing his senses of the heady scent of the bar. Overhead, a waning crescent hung in the sky with patches of stars filling the inky darkness.

He spun, looking for where Elide had gone. He knew she was still on shift and wouldn't take off without a replacement.

It didn't take long to spot her. She'd walked down the length of the sidewalk outside the bar a few yards away. Overhead, a streetlamp burned with pale light, illuminating her as she paced with quick, uneven steps. She tugged one hand through her hair, holding it out of her face as she muttered under her breath.

When Lorcan's boot scraped on the ground, she looked up. Her eyes were still wide and shock remained cleanly written on her face. Lorcan kept enough distance between them so that if she really wanted she could skirt around him and head back to the bar, but close enough that he could reach out to her too.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, because really that's all he really cared about, how much damage control he needed to do.

"Enough."

If there was one thing that Lorcan knew about Elide it was that she didn't shirk away from a problem. Even if she didn't like the situation or what may come with it. Just like now.

Her dark eyes met his and, for once, he couldn't read her. He'd gotten so used to knowing her little quirks that the radio silence unnerved him. Or maybe that was how it was supposed to be. Maybe he didn't actually know her and everything he thought he did know was more or less a facade, an illusion.

"Is it true?" she asked, voice soft and far more vulnerable than Lorcan was used to hearing from her. "Or were they just talking shit, I know how they are."

"I--" Lorcan scrubbed at his face, looking away. He didn't know if he could tell her the truth. If he did there was no guarantee of how she would respond. And he didn't know if he could take the rejection. Because something like this? It would ruin any semblance of friendship between them.

"Lorcan."

She wouldn't let him get away with the silence or the pretending to ignore what she had heard.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked.

"Yes." The hard line of her voice drew him back to her. With hands on her hips and the way her hair swept over one shoulder, Lorcan knew he wouldn't get away with delaying any longer.

The thing about it was that he didn’t like not being able to control the outcome of a given situation. And he knew more than anything that there was no controlling Elide. She was exactly who she was and would yield to no one.

Lorcan often put his foot in his mouth over so many things--especially when he had been younger. It simply became easier to act. Which was what he did then.

In two sweeping steps, he reached her. Lorcan cupped her face in his hands, feeling how soft her skin was against his own calluses. Her dark eyes gleamed in the streetlamp overhead, her full mouth opening in surprise.

Lorcan acted without thinking when he kissed her. All he was really focused on was wiping that look of mixed hurt and confusion from her face--to show her exactly how he felt.

A part of Lorcan thought she would shove him away, but instead her hands gripped the front of his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric to pull him closer. Her lips were soft against his, soft and warm and everything he’d imagined in all these years. And when she exhaled a soft moan, Lorcan nearly broke at that sound alone.

One of his hands slipped into her hair, the thick locks like silk in his fingers. His other hand went to her waist as he tugged her closer. He could feel her warmth and her soft curves and all he could think that he wanted more. More of her and more of what they could have.

“Lorcan,” Elide whispered against his lips. She broke away only to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling heavily as she met his gaze.

He leaned in close enough to press his forehead against hers even though all he could think about was kissing her again and memorizing the way she felt against him.

“I’m in love with you,” he told her, voice soft. He’d never said these words to anyone before and they felt strange on his tongue. But he knew they were true and he knew that he had to say them at least once. And it would only be for her.

He felt her tremble in his arms and listened to the sharp inhale of breath she made. When she didn’t try and pull away from him, Lorcan felt a bit of hope rise in his chest. Instead, Elide tilted her chin until her lips brushed against his. The touch was barely there and hardly even a kiss but Lorcan swore he came alive with that simple act.

“It took you long enough,” she replied. Her dark eyes stared into him with a spark of that same fire that had first caught his attention five years ago.

When she kissed him she held nothing back. Her mouth was firm and insistent, her hands moving with determination until her fingers curled over his shoulders keeping right where she wanted.

And for the first time since he’d moved to this town, he felt like he’d finally come home.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tagging still is not functioning properly, so if you'd reblog/comment I'd really appreciate it! Y'all are so great <3

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #throne of glass #tog #fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic

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streamafterlaughter · 4 months

Text

Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XXI: Baby, What Did You Expect?

summary: it’s the mid tour finale, and of course nothing is as it seems. i’m horrible at blurbs pls forgive me

cw/tags: alcoholism, addiction mentions, probably some improper AA etiquette, angst per usual, lots of tears. gn!reader, rockstar!eddie, estranged lovers, mutual pining, angst

a/n: hehe haha hehe. this is probably my best work thus far. i really hope yall enjoy it, this took a LOT out of me

—

January 1991

Steve’s POV

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He taps his foot on the linoleum, the buzzing overhead lights causing him to squint through his already painful migraine. Your phone goes to voicemail again, and Steve all but slams the payphone down onto the receiver. “Fuck!” He huffs, turning back down the hall, defeated.

In his room, Eddie sleeps on the hospital bed under a thin blanket. There’s a tube in his nose, but the doctor said the word stable, leaving Steve some time to call you. Not that it mattered. Even if you had answered, what would he have said? Would you even want to know?

–

July 1991

Eddie’s POV

It’s been a whole year since he’d seen you, but there you were. Right in front of him, dancing with a small redhead covered in tattoos, a plastic cup in one hand, the other in the air. He already knows he won’t go over, won’t approach you, or even try to violate your field of vision. But he can’t bring himself to look away from you, the way your shirt clings to your body perfectly, the way your skirt lands right below the curve of your ass, your exposed legs going on for miles. He drinks you in from afar, without caring how creepy it feels, seeing you without your knowledge, It’s day eighty nine, but Eddie turns to the bartender and orders a drink.

–

Present Day

Your POV

It just doesn’t make sense. If Steve had known about Eddie’s problem like he claims, then why on earth had he let him drink himself stupid? Your brain tries to rationalize your best friend’s choice, but you come up with nothing. There is no good reason for what Steve did. Didn’t he pride himself on taking care of his friends?

You sit up as the bus starts moving, preparing to confront Steve before quickly remembering he’s on the other bus. Instead, you find Robin reading a beaten copy of On The Road in the breakfast nook, and drop down beside her, sighing.

She glances up but doesn’t speak, eyebrow cocked as you pout for her full attention. She dog ears her page, making a show of sitting up straight, like a proper catholic girl in class.

“I’m having a dilemma.” You state, refusing to let your voice crack. “I need an outside perspective.” Really, you need someone to tell you what you want to hear, but you can’t say that.

“I’m all ears, babe.”

“This whole thing with Eddie,” You ignore her not so subtle eye roll. “Something’s just not right. Steve knew, y’know, about Eddie’s drinking. He told me himself he’d been aware, even before I was.”

“Okay…”

“But Eddie had been drinking, when tour started. A lot. And Steve definitely knew, because he’d been the one to carry him to bed most of the time.”

“What exactly is your dilemma in this scenario?”

“Why was he watching his friend backslide? Why didn’t he do a fucking thing to help him?” You can’t keep your voice from weavering, and you choke on your breath. “I don’t get how he could claim to care for Eddie, to love him, and let him do that to himself. Not after-” You stop, not knowing what Robin should and shouldn’t know.

“After what?”

“After everything, I guess.”

“Listen to me, honey. Eddie is a grown man, so’s Steve. Sure, we’re all buddy buddy, but when it comes down to it, we can’t always play heroes.”

“What, so we’re supposed to be okay watching Eddie slowly kill himself?”

Robin pinches between her eyes, deep in thought. “No, of course not. But at some point, talking to a wall is gonna get old. But, hey! Eddie hasn’t had a drink in weeks, right? So why the worry now?”

You shake your head. “I guess I’m just nervous. We have a month off, and I don’t know where i’m gonna go. I could go to my place in Boston, or go back to Seattle. I just-”

“You’re worried about Eddie.” For once you’re grateful for how easily she can read you.

“I am.”

“You want my advice? Play it by ear. No one said that you have to stay away from him now that business hours are over. You can afford to reconnect with him, in the real world.” She makes a point, but what exactly is the real world? The world you know is barely real, and the one you’d known before it felt even less so. Sometimes you wish you’d died in the Upside Down, at least then you wouldn’t have known such a profound kind of pain.

–

Eddie’s POV

“Tomorrow night, we play our last show of the first leg of the Freak Show Tour,” Eddie announces to his bandmates crowded around the small breakfast table of the tour bus. “We will rock this house like we have rocked no other, a grand finale they will wish they televised!” The response is various whoops and cheers from his friends, and a small smile from Steve as he stands aside with his arms crossed. “Let’s make sure the state of… uh…” Eddie places a hand to his mouth, stage whispering to Steve, “Where are we?”

“Delaware.”

“Let’s make sure the state of Delaware can’t prepare for what we’re about to give ‘em!” Eddie hollers, and his friends join in as the bus pulls around the back of the hotel parking lot.

–

He swipes his key card as he catches you unlocking the door next to him. “Hey neighbor.” He winks, feeling awfully bold after a long trip without seeing you.

“Hey, Eds.” You send him a smile that makes his heart skip, and he curses himself for being so easily bent out of shape. You and him are friends. Friends with a long, frustrating history, but friends nonetheless. “You ready for the mid tour finale?” He asks, awkwardly shifting to lean against the doorframe.

He catches as your face falls the slightest bit. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s gonna be weird, I think.”

“How so?”

You shrug. “I dunno. We’ve been on the road for like a month now. It almost feels normal. I won’t know what to do with myself when I’m back at home.”

He must be mistaken, but your words sound almost like an invitation, a cracked door. “Where’s home for you?” He asks, ignoring how tacky it must sound.

–

Your POV

It takes a lot to bite your tongue before you blurt, “You,” but you manage.”I uh, I think I’m going back to Boston. Might as well, it’s where we start back up again.” It will be August then, and you’ll have heard for sure whether you’re playing one of the biggest music festivals of the year. You still haven’t told Eddie, and at this point you aren’t sure what you’d say. “What about you? Where are you headed?”

Eddie sucks his top lip between his teeth in thought. “Maybe LA, or I’ll hold myself to my promise to visit Wayne. Depends.”

“On what?” It sounds like a challenge.

“On if I want to face my guilt or keep running from it. Or something equally dramatic.”

You snort, pretty eyes rolling back into your head. “Please.”

“What?”

“Don’t be shitty. Let yourself feel guilty, god knows you deserve to. Visit Wayne, at least for a while.”

“Why does it matter to you what I do?” He doesn’t mean for the words to come out as harshly as they do.

“Believe it or not, Ed, you still matter to me. Very much. And if you let yourself be miserable, we’ll all have to put up with your bullshit when we come back. Do us all the favor. Go home.” You swipe your card again, entering your room before Eddie can respond.

–

It shouldn’t matter. You and Eddie aren’t what you used to be, no matter how hard you delude yourself into thinking you can get back there. That possibility feels long gone, completely unreachable at your current status. You have to settle.

You walk over to the big window in your room, drawing back the heavy shades to reveal the setting sun and city of Dover below. You lay back on the bed, the fluffy pillows soothing you quickly to sleep.

–

A knock on your door rattles you awake. The digital clock on your nightstand reads 11:30 PM, and you groan as you roll onto your feet. Another round of heavy knocking makes you scurry faster to the door.

“What?!” You demand, flinging the door back to reveal a disheveled Steve clad in a wrinkled tank top and linen pajama pants. “Oh good, you’re awake.” Steve shoves past you and into the room without an invite, causing you to spin on your heel to face him.

“Well, I am now! What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t find him.”

“Who?”

“Eddie!”

Good fucking god. “He’s not in his room?”

Steve looks at you like you’ve asked the dumbest question in the world. You suppose you have. “No. He went out. Didn’t seem like he was okay.” Steve holds his face in his hands. “I’ve called all the bars in the area, no one’s said they’ve seen him. He could be on the street somewhere, he could-”

“Okay, enough!” Of course he’s worried, but you’re fed up with Steve’s inability to be consistent. “Where was this attitude a month ago? When he was drinking himself silly before every show, when he would beg for whiskey the mornings after? You let him relapse, and now you’re worried?” You don’t realize you’re yelling until someone next door bangs on the wall, demanding you shut up.

“What are you talking about?” Steve sniffs, lifting his head to look at you.

“Steve, you’d known this whole time that Eddie has a problem. You’ve been letting him indulge in it, doing almost nothing. Now you’re surprised he’s gone out without telling you? Seriously?”

“There is only so much I can do to stop him, Y/n, you have to know that. I had to watch him vomit all over himself while I waited for the paramedics, I had to watch him detox in that hospital bed. Then I had to watch him relapse. Not just last month, but last year. He fell off the wagon after eighty nine days, Y/n, eighty nine. You wanna know why?” He waits for you to answer, but you’re not sure you want to. “Because he saw you at a gig. In New York, last July. He called me that night, told me everything. Told me he was sorry, that he was a waste of my time, all that shit. Made me promise to never try to save him again.” Steve’s in tears when he finishes, and you feel your own start to fall. “I have kept my mouth shut because I promised, but I worry about him every day. Well, until lately. He’s been so much happier, and there’s no use even arguing why that must be. But he’s not your responsibility either, I know that. It’s not fair of me to be putting any expectations on you. I just thought you might know where he is.”

You drop onto the mattress beside Steve, resting your head on his shaking shoulder. “I think I might know where he is. We can’t go there, though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s supposed to be anonymous.” You hope to every god that you’re right.

–

Eddie’s POV

“I haven’t been to a meeting in about a year,” Eddie starts, addressing the small group in front of him, sitting in a circle of folding chairs in the basement of a church. “But today is the two year anniversary of the worst day of my life. I guess it’s getting to me lately.”

“What happened two years ago?” The woman running the meeting encourages Eddie. She’s an older woman, with sandy blonde hair and a wrinkled, kind face.

“I ruined the best thing I could have ever asked for. I lost the love of my life, walked out on them for the last time after months of doing whatever I felt like with their feelings…

–

July 1990

“We can’t do this anymore.” You’re talking to the ceiling, arms resting on top of your chest, you don’t look at him. He’s next to you, stuck to the bed with sweat, breathing in your scent that begins to suffocate him. He knew this day was coming. You’d been seeing each other for about a month now, after half a year of not speaking.You’d fallen victim to his drunken pleas, as well as what Eddie suspects is your own self hatred.

“What are you talking about?” He plays dumb, hoping you’ll chicken out of leaving him for a second time.

“This,” You motion to the room around you. “I can’t see you anymore. It’s too much.”

“Too much?” Eddie sits up, and wills the room to stop spinning.

“Every time you come over, you’re wasted. You’re miserable most of the time, and the times you aren’t you’re hopped up on blow. It’s like you’ve added me to your list of fucking bad habits. I don’t want to be that for you anymore.” Your tone is ice cold, not a hint of sadness or anger in your voice at all. It chills Eddie to his core.

“Fine.” Eddie huffs, shoving himself out of bed. “Makes perfect sense, you telling me all this after I fuck your brains out. Made sure to get what you wanted first, right?”

“Eddie, come on,” You go to move, but Eddie tucks the blanket back over you.

“No, really, it’s fine. Ten minutes ago you were telling me how much you missed me, how good it felt. Now you’re cutting me off? Just like that?” Eddie shoves his legs clumsily into his jeans, cursing under his breath when his toe gets caught in a hole. “We talked about this. This was supposed to be purely physical, remember? You agreed to that.”

“I did, I know. But I agreed before I could understand that you’re… well, different.”

“Different how?” He snaps. You hesitate, picking anxiously at your fingernails. “Y/n?”

“You’re mean, Eddie. You’re cold. You don’t care how you make me feel, or rather, how you don’t make me feel when you sleep over. I’ve had to fake it. Beyond that, I can’t even make conversation with you. I feel used. It’s lonely.”

He sees red. Eddie gathers up his jacket, and his still half full beer bottle from the nightstand. “Fuck you,” He spits, tossing things aside as he searches for his keys. “Y’know what, yeah. We’re done.” He gulps the rest of the drink down before slamming the bottle into the bin.

“We can’t be done if we weren’t anything to begin with.” Your words bite, despite them originally being his own from when he’d come up with such a stupid agreement. “And we won’t have to break up, because this isn’t a thing.” He’d seduced you after a show one night, high out of his mind. He’d never expected you to agree to it.

“Perfect,” He snaps, daring himself to look at you. Your eyes are wet, but you’re stoic. You don’t tremble, you don’t heave or scream or shudder. “I don’t ever want to see your face again.” He doesn’t mean that, and he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. But he can’t take them back now. “We don’t know each other.”

“I don’t think we ever did.” Your final words ring loudly in his ears as he slams the door behind him.

–

The group waits patiently for Eddie to finish, and he wipes a tear he hadn’t noticed from his cheek.

“You say you see this person frequently now?” The woman asks, and Eddie nods.

“We’re on tour together. Tomorrow’s our last show ‘til next month. Needed a meeting a little extra tonight, I guess.” It’s past midnight, this group being one that meets in the late hours to cater to night shift workers.

“Well, we thank you for sharing with us tonight, Eddie.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” The group responds as if on cue. The meeting is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie makes his way to the table for complementary stale coffee and doughnuts.

“You’re really brave for coming here.” The voice is small, taking Eddie a second to register. He turns around to face a girl who can’t be older than seventeen. “I’m Macy. Addict.”

“Hi, Macy.” Eddie greets her like he’s reciting a script. “I dunno about brave. That’s probably the last thing I feel right now.”

“Well, think of it like this. You could have gone to a bar, or a club to try and score. You came here instead. That’s brave.”

He shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”

“And they still love you, y’know. That doesn’t just go away.”

“How would someone your age know so much about something like that?”

Macy shrugs. “I follow the tabloids. I know who you are. I won’t say anything, obviously. But I’ve been watching you, with them. I’ve seen the photos, and the music doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“You can’t believe everything you read.” He’s not sure whether to take her word, she seems so genuine.

“Maybe not, but I believe this.”

Eddie gives her a sad smile before saying goodbye. She waves him off with a warm smile.

Once outside, he lights a cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he closes his tired eyes. The exhaustion has washed over him, and he’s ready to be dragged under when he hears footsteps approaching.

—

Your POV

He opens his eyes and meets them with yours, heavy from lack of sleep. “Hi.” You wave shyly, like you’ve never met him.

“How’d you find me here?” He flicks ash onto the concrete.

“Saw the flier in the lobby when we came in. Checked it again and saw one less tab on the bottom. Minor detective work.” You smile, despite the exhaustion written on your face. His cheeks warm.

“You alone?”

You nod. “Took a world of convincing Steve not to come with me. I think I’ve sedated him, though.”

“Shit, he that worried?”

You shrug. “You know how he gets. He’ll be glad to know you’re okay, though.”

“What, did you think I’d gone on a run too?”

“No, actually. It was my idea to check here. Relieved as shit that I’m right.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You stretch your hand out to hold as the doors swing open, a herd of people filing out. A small girl with a sweet face sends Eddie a smile, and winks at you before getting into a cab, and you turn to find him blushing.

“Friend of yours?”

He chuckles. “Guess you could say that.” He entwines his fingers with yours without waiting for an invitation. All too familiar touches, worlds away from where you’d stood only a month ago. “So,” He starts, swinging his arm and yours as you start back toward the hotel, “were you worried about me?” His tone is teasing, tinged with what can only be described as hope.

You can feel your cheeks warm and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. “Guess you could say that.” You squeeze his hand. “But that’s nothing new. I’m always worried about you.”

—

July 1990

Your POV

“It’s over,” You’re sobbing into the receiver, barely able to hear Steve’s sigh on the other end. Relief? Disappointment? You can’t tell, your senses are blunted only by the thought of him.

“Are you okay? Wait, stupid question,” Steve stumbles on the other line, unsure of how to comfort you. “Can I do anything?”

You shake your head before you remember he can’t see you. “No, no. I’ll be alright. I ended it. I had to. He’s not the same person I fell in love with. I know that now.”

“Maybe, but there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Do I want to know?”

Steve waits a beat before answering, the static of the line filling your head. “No, I don’t think you do.”

You talk for an hour before you feel your eyelids grow heavy, and say your goodbyes before hanging up. You are once again in silence. Alone. In a fit of rage— or of heartbreak, you’re not sure, you fall to your knees and let go. You haven’t cried like this in months, the kind of cry that leaves you hoarse and tired, but tonight, in the dark of your bedroom, you cry for the person you used to know.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Thank you, Denver! Goodnight!” The crowd erupts into cheers, pleas for a second encore, and Eddie’s sure he can see women in the front row tearing their bras off to throw onstage. The house speakers blast Talking Heads Burning Down The House as kids make their way to the exit. Eddie slides through the crowd of techs and stagehands backstage, making his way to the green room to collapse on the weathered couch.

“That was fucking incredible!” Jeff exclaims, clapping his calloused hands together. “Best show so far, I think.”

“Psh, that was nothin’, wait ‘til you see what Boston can do.” You’re sitting in the rickety recliner, a cigarette between your fingers, still dressed in your stage clothes. Your skin shines with sweat and glitter, cheeks rosy from exertion. You’re most stunning like this, Eddie thinks.

“Yeah? You willing to bet on that?” He jokes.

“Oh, more than willing!” You chuckle, stubbing out your smoke in the ashtray next to you. “But tonight, I turn in early.” You make a point to stand up, stretching your arms above your head. Eddie’s eyes fall to your midsection, exposed to him while you sort out your limbs. You’d think he’d never seen skin, the way he feels his skin burn at the sight of your stomach.

“Aw, it’s our last night together!” Sylvie whines, shoving you playfully. “One drink?”

Eddie waits with bated breath, and swears your eyes dart to his before you answer.

“Fine. One drink.”

—

Eddie doesn’t follow you to the bar, he knows better. Tonight has already been difficult, knowing he has nowhere to go after tonight, nowhere he wants to go, anyway. He digs through his duffel bag until he finds his long ignored copy of Tighten Up. He wants more of you, somehow. He’s still desperate to know how you’d felt, those horrible years apart.

He skips to the title track, tucking his hair behind his ears before equipping the headphones. The song greets him with the static of an amp, followed by the clicking of drumsticks. When it kicks in, the song is full, clearly a whole band effort. Robin’s bass cuts through with a funky riff, layered underneath dirty guitars and heavy drums. He’s sure the song can’t get better until your voice slices through the music

Dared myself to stand back up, / After all these wasted tears, / Felt my heart sew itself together, / After all that wear ‘n’ tear. / I let you turn your back on me, / I watched you walk away, / And ‘til now I let myself believe / I was supposed to die that way. / But now I’ve tightened up my heart, / I’ve locked away the pain, / and I don’t have much left to give, / without asking for the same.

You tell a story of a broken soul, fighting its way through the dark on its own. The music swells as you belt the chorus, and Eddie can almost feel his fingers hurt during your guitar solo. Robin’s backing vocals fill out your lead, and the buzz of the snare drum carries out the bridge.

When the song fades, Eddie takes his headphones off, needing to digest what he’s just heard. This one might just be his favorite on the album, at least so far. It feels like the pinnacle, the turning point of the story told by the tracks. He’s heard it live, sure, but something about hearing the way it’s produced gives him more of an idea of what you’d been feeling in the moment.

He has an overwhelming urge to see you. He launches himself out of bed, gathering himself as best he can for being so frazzled. He’s in sweatpants, a tattered t-shirt draped loosely over his form, hair pulled into a low ponytail to keep from tangling. He goes to turn the knob, but stops when he hears voices in the hall.

“I can’t believe it.” You’re wasted, words slurring together between hiccups and giggles. Eddie can picture you, rosy cheeked and stumbling, clawing for his arm to support your swaying weight, and his heart lurches as if to grab you through the door. “We’re playing fucking Lollapalooooooza!” You howl the word, and he hears Steve shush you as Robin cackles.

“Hey, hey!” Steve stage whispers, trying to silence you. “Don’t go gloating about it.”

“Why not?” He can almost hear your pout, and he chuckles to himself.

“I don’t wanna deal with you pissing Eddie off.”

“Y’know, Stevie, he’s gonna find out one way or another. Might as well come from me. Besides, he’s different. He’s happier, I think. I dunno. I hope he’s happy, he deserves to be happy.” Eddie’s heart swells as he listens to your tangent, but you’re not done yet. “I wish I could make him happy again. I feel like, whatever I do, I make it worse.” Your voice is cracking, whether from overuse or from trying not to cry, Eddie can’t tell. Now he has to see you. He goes to turn the knob again, but there’s a knock on his door at the very same moment.

Eddie opens the door almost as soon as you’re finished knocking, wafting your scent of lavender and vanilla into his nostrils.

“Hi,” You exhale the word, and Eddie can’t help when his lips twitch upward before he lets his grin free. “Needed to see you.”

“What a coincidence.” He tries not to let his excitement show, standing aside to let you in. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I have to tell you something. Well, I don’t have to. But I want to. You were the only person I wanted to tell, actually. I hope you’re not mad, though. I don’t know what I’d do if you were.”

“Hey, whoa, slow down,” Eddie rushes to where you sit on the edge of his bed, spiraling as the liquor tightens its hold on you. “Why would I get upset?”

You shrug lamely. “I dunno. Just, need you to be happy for me right now. Please be happy for me.” It’s a hoarse whisper, a plea meant for his ears only.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he settles for resting one clammy palm on your leg. “You can tell me anything you want.” He knows what’s coming. You’re playing the biggest festival in the States. Something he’s dreamed about since the festival came to be. Of course it hurts, but Eddie can push that aside to be happy for you. He knows better.

You don’t continue, though. Instead, you scoot further into his side, nuzzling into his shoulder like a needy cat. Despite his aching heart, Eddie wraps his arm around you, letting you further into his hold. Your breathing slows back to normal, and Eddie has no desire to move from this spot. Tomorrow, you go back to Boston, and Eddie fucks off somewhere to wait out the month until he gets to see you again. He can indulge for one more night.

“I do have stuff to tell you,” You say finally, “but not right now. Right now, I sleep.” You hum, and he scoffs. Surely you won’t remember this tomorrow, so he decides not to push you. Eddie slides out from where you rest, laying you back into the mattress. He slips off your shoes and jeans, careful not to tug at anything else. He then tucks the blanket up to your chin, and starts to make a place for himself on the floor when your hand shoots out, snatching his wrist.

“Please, sleep here.” You pat the bed next to you, and he melts at the gesture. Your eyes are almost completely closed, hair wild from dancing, sweating, whatever you’d been doing tonight.

“You’re drunk, sweets. You’ll be upset in the morning.” He doesn’t want to deny you, especially in your softened, sleepy state.

“No!” You shake your head vigorously, wincing at the movement. “No, I won’t. Please, Eddie,” and he’s a goner. Of course he surrenders, and tucks himself into the warm bed next to you. You snuggle into him like it’s instinct, making a home on his chest as he lay stiffly with an arm around you, waiting for you to get comfortable.

You let out a sigh, your breathing slowing, arms wrapped around him with surprising strength. Eddie’s mind starts to wander back to the song, how someone is capable of two such wonderful emotional extremes.

Your mumbling tickles his neck, pulling him from his head. He doesn’t quite catch the words.

“What was that?” He coos, enjoying your touches, your breath on his skin. He could live here.

“I said, ‘I love you, Eddie.’” The words come out strung together, but to Eddie they puncture with each syllable. “G’night.” And before he can respond, you’re snoring.

Eddie, once ready to retire for the evening, is now completely wired, feeling you drift into dreamland next to him, as if you haven’t just upended everything.

—

chapter xxii

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @potatobeanpie @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc @veemoon | send a message to be added

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #90s au #strangerthingscentral #st #fundamental differing #fd #new kid fic #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!reader #eddie munson fluff #angst

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mxtantrights · 6 months

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famous dc! au (dick's version)

TRACK FOURTEEN (DELUXE VERSION): I'M YOUR MAN / GIVE A LITTLE BIT

It's Winter holiday time in Hollywood and nothing feels like the holidays. Maybe its the building feeling of homesickness inside of you, or the feeling of change in the air. The sun is out and its way hotter than you're used to this time of year.

You really miss the snow. You miss the snow angles you would pass by on the street. And the snowmen that were falling apart but made with love with scarves and carrot noses.

You've been dating Dick Grayson for six months now, and he's taken you by surprise at each turn. When you needed to take new head shots for another project you wanted to apply to he helped you out-meaning he offered to take you to a professional studio and drop twelve hundred dollars on you. You of course made sure that didn't happen and made him take the pictures himself.

Another time, he offered to shut down the aquarium to take you just because you were having a bad day. It was a really kind and generous offer but you couldn't imagine inconveniencing anyone because your boyfriend is Hollywood's heartthrob.

Today just felt different. It felt like you really didn't want to be in the state of California at all. And if you saw another palm tree you might throw up. That's why you've stayed inside your apartment all week. Dick has been over all week too but you can't keep coming up with excuses about why your skin hasn't seen the sun.

A knock on your bedroom door raps and you know it's him. You tell him to come in. The door opens and in walks your boyfriend. But it's strange. He's dressed in a coat and a scarf.

He has Haley in his arms. You sit up in bed with a confused look on your face.

"Dickie?" you ask.

"Yes darling?" he asks, teasingly.

"It's eighty nine degrees outside." you say.

Dick hums, "no I don't think it is."

"You're gonna faint from the heat." you counter.

Dick shakes his head, "It's actually snowing outside, so I don't know what you're talking about."

You look at him then. Maybe he's trying method acting? You get up from the bed and pull back the curtains, back facing the window ready to prove him wrong.

"I need you to look outside Dickie." you say.

"Oh I am." he says with all the confidence in the world.

You turn around to point outside to the green gras but your eyes are met with nothing but white. White? You pull open your window and stick your head out. It's still hot. But there's snow on the ground.

There's snow on the ground?

"What going on? Why is there snow on the ground? It's hot." you speak.

"I know you were missing home so I thought I'd bring a piece of it here." he explains.

Your whirl around all at once. Then you're running over to Dick. You wrap your arms around his neck and embrace him fully. Your legs wrap around him barely and he holds onto you.

"Thank you so much, you are the best person I've ever met and I can't believe you did this for me. You're the best, Dick Grayson." you gleefully say.

He hugs you even tighter.

"I know, I know. But I also promised the kids that they could come out in about twenty minutes so if you wanna make the first snow angel we have to go right now." Dick says.

You let go of him and run to your closet. Your hands push and pull the hangers and the clothing inside. That's when you realize you don't have any coats. It's California!

"I don't have a coat!" you shout.

"Oh you don't need it. It's artificial anyways." Dick says.

Then he's grabbing your arm and pulling you out of your apartment, down the steps and out into the backyard. You happily fall into the snow on your back and swipe your arms and legs.

Dick watches from above as the smile that he had missed this past week finally forms on your lips.

Dick thinks it can't get any better than this. He's got the warm sun on his skin, the water at his feet and the love of his life right by his side. He looks over at you, only to find you not there. He looks around frantically thinking he lost you.

But his eyes catch you at the bar talking to an older woman. Of course. You are so charismatic and charming. She's laughing at something you said and you're smiling at her.

You look over at him and his heart melts. You tell him that you're coming, he tells you not to rush. You turn back to your new friend.

Dick lets out a sigh of relief. He doesn't care what position he's in on the charts right now. Or if enough of his merchandise is selling. Or if the latest roll out is going as projected.

All there is to think about is you and the island sun.

"I made a friend!" you shout as you run over to Dick.

He laughs, "I can see that."

"That was fun. She wanted to paint us." you explain to him.

Dick looks at you with a funny look, "Naked?"

"No! She just liked how we looked against the sunset. She wanted to know if you'd be okay with it, so I came over to ask you." you wrap your arm around his waist.

He places a few kisses on your hairline, "I'd like it. Tell her yes."

He watches as you turn around and give a thumbs up. He can't help but smile at you as you do. For the first time, being in love isn't something he wants to shy away from or feels the need to be embarrassed about.

Love.

Huh.

"She also said she knew your dad." you speak up.

Dick is pulled out of his trance right then and there. He looks down at you with his full attention now. You look mildly confused why he seems to attentive.

"The woman back there? The woman you were just talking to?" he asks.

You nod your head, "Yeah but I mean, don't people say that all the time? How can you believe it's true?"

Dick looks back to see the woman again, but she's gone. Bruce has never told him anything about his first love and yet Dick feels like the universe doesn't leave room for coincidences.

He turns back to you, "I could always ask him when we get back. He's due to tell me some stories from the past anyways."

"Aw, that's sweet. Maybe we can find your dad someone!" you smile.

"Maybe..."

Dick sets the tea down on the table in front of him. His father, Bruce, comes walking around the table and sits next to him on the couch. He sets down his own mug on the table-coaster provided via Alfred.

"So, I think I ran into your first love while I was on vacation."

Bruce almost chokes on his drink. He looks over at his son slowly. Dick notices that Bruce has gone somewhat still. And not his usual still where he's still processing details and making observations and what not.

This was new.

He was unfocused. Fazed.

"What do you mean by that?" Bruce asks.

"I mean when I was on the beach, there was a woman there. She said she knew you." Dick explains.

Bruce sits up, his back straight like a board. He tries to look unfazed, like he's just passing the time with this conversation but Dick can tell this is probably one of the most important conversations he's had in a while. Or at least one that he's firmly committed to.

"Describe her." Bruce commands.

Dick can't help to wonder what the hell happened between the two of them. He's never seen Bruce so on edge before. Dick goes on to describe the woman he saw. With each detail that flies out of his mouth Bruce shuts his eyes, turns away, and shifts his body.

"Bruce what's going on? I thought you said that you didn't fail." Dick asks.

Bruce scoffs, "I said that to give you confidence. I failed, miserably and hard."

Dick slinks back into the couch. He lets out a breath of air and crosses his arms across his chest.

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Dick asks.

Bruce looks over at him, "What do you mean?"

"How are you gonna get the love of your life back?"

#famous dc! au (dick's version)#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fanfic

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sebstan2020 · 1 year

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Red Ties

Chapter 6

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

“Thank you dear” Mrs McKenzie smiled as Mary placed her lunch on the tray in front of her, neatly setting the fork and knife and placing her cup of tea there as well.

“That’s okay, is there anything else you need?” she asked.

“No, no that’s fine, now sit down and relax, you do way to much for me” Mrs Mckenzie fussed, waving her hands about and digging into her hot lunch. Mary had made her sausages and mash with a small side of peas. Mrs McKenzie was a simple woman who didn’t have much of a palette, especially at her age of eighty, she wasn’t bothered about eating the most fanciest of foods. Mary smiled and slumped down in one of the comfy chairs. She had a busy morning, and it was nice to come see Mrs McKenzie and relax for a moment. The other residents she cared for were nice as well but weren’t like Mrs McKenzie in anyway. Mary could do with a good laugh right now.

“So tell me what you’ve been up to, have you found a man yet” she raised a brow, shovelling in a fork full of peas and Mary giggled. She didn’t know whether to tell her about her bump in with James last week. To be honest, there wasn’t much to tell, except the fact be brought her a $800 phone and wouldn’t let her dry clean his suit.

“Not yet” she shrugged and Mrs McKenzie huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Girl, you need to get out there, if you spend anymore time with us old coots you’ll turn into one” she scolded and Mary laughed, shaking her head.

“I’ve been so busy at the moment-”.

“Nope, I don’t want to hear that excuse again” she interrupted. Although it was funny, Mary couldn't help but think Mrs McKenzie was right. As a christian girl, she was saving her first time for marriage. She hoped for the day that she’d find a true honest man to marry and become his wife for the rest of their lives, and eventually have children as well. But it was tricky. The dating sites scared her and from all the stories Anya told her, it seemed most of them were on there for a good shag, which she certainly wasn’t. But there was a certain man playing on her mind. James.

Tall, handsome, kind, he was everything a girl would want and probably already had. Judging from his neat attire and expensive scent, Mary assumed he already had a special lady in his life. She didn’t see a wedding ring but that didn’t mean anything. He looked like a man who could have anyone he wanted and probably did. Why on earth would he want someone like Mary.

She was about to respond when a buzz of her phone cut her off. Whipping it out, she looked at the screen. Mrs McKenzie furrowed her brows, staring at the great big device, instantly recognising that it wasn’t her old brick phone.

“And what’s that?” she said and Mary looked up, slightly confused until she realised she was talking about the phone.

“Oh, I had to get a new phone as my other one broke” she shrugged, slipping it back in her pocket.

“I say that’s a big change from your old one, how much did that cost you?” she asked, shovelling her mouth with creamy mash and Mary blushed.

“Um well… someone actually brought it for me” she admitted and Mrs McKenzie froze, looking over at Mary with wide eyes.

“And… tell me more” she urged and Mary couldn’t help but giggle nervously. Why was only talking about James making her nervous as well.

“Well last week when I left yours, I bumped into this man. I was holding my phone at the time but dropped it and it smashed and he insisted on buying me another one. I told him he didn't have to but he wouldn’t take no for an answer” Mary explained and a bright smile lit up on Mrs McKenzie’s face.

“So you have met a man, and you thought you could keep this from me” she pointed a wrinkly finger at Mary.

“No no no, it’s not like that, I think he was just being friendly” she made a poor excuse but Mrs McKenzie chuckle, shaking her head.

“Darling, you don’t go and buy someone a new phone just to be friendly. I may be old but I know when a man is trying get a woman. They’ll do anything to have them and even if he was being friendly, a new phone is a stretch” Mrs McKenzie said and Mary knew she was right. But why would he go to all that trouble for a girl like her. She couldn’t imagine she was anything off his type. He probably liked super models and tall girls with skinny waists and all the plastic surgery they could have done to them.

“You may be right” Mary smiled.

“Of course I’m right” Mrs Mckenzie shrugged.

“Plus I spilt his coffee on him but he wouldn’t let me take his suit to get dry cleaned or buy a new coffee” Mary added.

“Well then he must like you, what’s his name?” she said intrigued.

“James”.

“Mmm, very biblical, what does he do?”.

“Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t ask him” Mary said and Mrs McKenzie gave another huff.

“Well you’ll have to see him again to find out, you must see him again” she insisted and Mary laughed once again. Mrs McKenzie was a very forward person and not one to mess with.

“We’ll see” Mary murmured.

She left Mrs McKenzie’s room, shutting the door gently as to not wake her. She decided to take a nap and Mary took that as her cue to leave. As the door clicked shut, she turned to make her way to the elevator at the end of the hall when she stopped in her tracks. No, it couldn’t be. There he was, walking in all his glory, dress impeccably in a dark suit of all black, a tie tightly around neck and his hair slightly messy but in a sexy way. James.

He was carrying a coffee cup holder with two small cups, just like he did the other week. Mary couldn’t seem to move her body as she stared at him walking towards her, a smile creeping on his lips as he neared.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again” he said smoothly as he reached her, standing tall and powerful over her. His rich scent immediately filled her nostrils and Mary couldn’t help the flush of colour in her cheeks as she smiled, nervously brushing back a piece of hair behind her ear, not that it was even in the way but she needed to do something.

“Neither did I, at least this time I didn’t bump into you” she pointed to the coffee cups and he chuckled softly, nodding his head. The sound was sexy and sent a tingle to her body.

“Yes, although I was probably to blame last time as well” he shrugged.

“No it was my fault, not looking where I was going” she said. A silence fell and Mary shuffled on her feet, racking her brain as to what to say next.

“Are you visiting again?” she asked and James sighed softly, nodding.

“Yes, I try and come every week” he said.

“Well they’re very lucky” she replied and instantly regretted it. Why did she have to say the most stupid things around him. But the smirk on James face indicated he wasn’t creeped out.

“Did you get your new phone, I had it sent to your apartment” he asked and Mary had completely forgotten about it, snatching it from her pocket.

“Oh yes, thank you so much, you didn’t need buy me this fancy thing though, I mean $800 is a lot” she said and James smirked.

“Not to me, plus I thought you might need an upgrade” he shrugged. Mary couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded. As if $800 wasn’t anything to him. But judging by his looks, it seemed money to him wasn’t an issue.

“I really appreciate but I still feel bad about your suit, are you sure I can’t do anything to say sorry?” her guilt was treading back and she had to think of what Reverend McCarthy said to her. James stared down at her, sucking in his bottom lip for a moment before letting it pop back out, his head tilting as if he was thinking hard.

“Let me take you out” he said abruptly and Mary froze, staring wide eyed at him. Take her out, like a date. She wasn’t expecting that.

“Li-like a date” she asked and he nodded.

“Let me take you out for dinner, if you really want to make it up then let me buy you dinner” he insisted and Mary chuckled nervously. Normally the other party would do something to say sorry however this was the other way around.

“Oh. O-okay” she smiled and James grinned, flashing his bright white teeth that were perfectly aligned. Mary couldn’t help but self conscious of her crooked bottom teeth, the few at the front that were slightly titled in giving her that cute smile and she sucked her lips in a tight smile.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven” he asked and Mary nodded, becoming all flustered and nervous.

“Yeah, sure, sounds cood, I mean good” she fumbled on her words, and James grinned.

“Well I should get going, I’ll see you later” Mary squeezed past him, her arm just brushing his and she felt that intense tingle to her legs, a flip of her stomach like she was on some roller-coaster.

“See you later Mary” the way her name rolled off his tongue, Mary couldn’t help but blush more and she gave a short wave but raced to the elevator, keeping her back to him and when she stepped in, she hid behind the closing doors, taking the deepest breath of her life, her mind in a crazy spin of thoughts and feelings. There was only one person she needed to talk to… Anya.

Chapter 7

Hey so I'm sorry for the late update, been working on some other stories of mine and sorry its a short chapter but I hope you like it and let me know down in the comments what you think

@pattiemac1

@sebastiansluts

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@abaker32

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebby stan #sebastian stan smut #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #mafia bucky barnes

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swappingbryn · 7 months

Text

Best Care Money Can Buy

Montgomery had inherited a fortune from his parents and didn’t the following eighty years building it into an obscenely large amount. He knew his time was running out, everything hurt and doing even the most basic things were nearly impossible. He decided his money would go towards something good, he found a guy just finishing college, who had worked hard and put himself through life, and offered him a massive amount of money to help him in the end of his life.

Montgomery was a man of his word and set up trusts for Chad, with millions deposited and also paid him very well. What Chad didn’t know was that Montgomery wanted more than help. One day Chad felt a prick in his neck and woke up on a hospital bed. The doctor said “oh I didn’t expect you to wake up, well it’s too late now anyways. Montgomery hired me and my time to help him get a new chance at life, all thanks to you.” And then the doctor placed a mask over Chads face and Chad lost consciousness.

When Chad woke up, he knew something, everything, was wrong. He was in a suite at the hospital, but he felt terrible. He couldn’t move, he didn’t feel restrained, he just couldn’t move. Just laying there hurt too. The doctor soon walks in and announces the operation was a complete success. Chad feels the bed moving, feels the pain shooting through his body, like knives.

That’s when Chad sees something. It’s a young guy, probably a little younger than him, talking to the doctor, and then turns to him. “Hey old boy, I’m sorry things had to go like this, but I couldn’t afford to let any chance I had at happiness go unexplored. I had you drained of everything, your youth, muscles, hotness, all mine now. Don’t worry. You’ll continue to receive the best care money can buy, and your parents will get all the money in those trusts I set up for you. But sadly the doctor thinks you have less than a week left. But thank you for your loyal service.” And with that, Montgomery, or Monty as he went by now, left the room, and Chad was helpless to stop him.

#submission

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esotericas-sims · 2 months

Text

"Georgie," Ruby asked over breakfast, between bites of biscuit. "What's today?" He could see the sparkle in her eye, even from across the table. George had mastered spotting that sparkle years ago, it came naturally these days. And he knew precisely what this one meant.

"I have no idea, Ruby." He spoke blithely, feigning ignorance. But he knew her game, and he was certain Ruby knew this as well. "Why don't you tell us? I'm sure Mr. Spectre is awfully curious." Moses and Harrison were both eating in complete silence, and George had spoken when Moses was halfway into scooping biscuit into his mouth. The man peered at George for a moment, and then finished his bite.

"I want no part in your quarrel," Moses stated, though it was with no shortage of fondness in his voice.

George sighed, and laid down his cutlery. He took his time in speaking. At least he could make Ruby wait for her gratification. "Today, Ruby, is August --th, eighteen eighty-nine."

"And what else is it?"

"My eighteenth birthday."

"Correct!"

"I have plans," Ruby insisted, cheerfully dragging George along a trail, picnic basket looped around one arm. George said nothing, only trotting along behind her. There'd been a time when they were about the same height, but that was long past. Now, he had to stumble awkwardly along, trying to keep her pace without overtaking her. He managed, however, and Ruby was quick to settle them down at her desired destination: a rickety picnic bench out in the woods.

From her basket, Ruby unpacked a slightly battered chocolate cake, and a pie for their lunch. "Et voila," Ruby declared, beaming up at George. As if she'd cooked all this herself. Still, it was frustratingly charming, and George couldn't help but smile.

"All this for me?" He asked, settling down into his seat.

"Of course. Eighteen is an important birthday." With no word from him, Ruby began to cut the cake.

"It's my turn, now," George said, slowly pushing himself up from the bench. Ruby watched him, her brows knitting in trepidation. What could he mean, 'my turn'? It wasn't her birthday, and he certainly hadn't brought any food to deliver. An odd choice of words, to be certain. My turn.

George cleared his throat, and linked his arm in Ruby's, before ushering her off.

"Roo-" George had led her to a spot he'd discovered some weeks earlier, a little lookout above the river. The waterfall crashed up above, and the hill was covered in flowers. With a swallow, George clasped Ruby's hands in his.

The thing had been burning a hole in his pocket for weeks. It only made sense to get it done with. It wasn't like she'd refuse, right? Right?

George took a deep breath.

"Roo, uh..." No sense drawing it out. "I spoke to Mr. Spectre, and he's agreed. It's nothing fancy, I don't really have much money, but that'll change soon. I only wanted to ask if... You see, we've talked about..." He could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

"What are you on about, Georgie? Moses agreed to what?" Ruby peered at him - perhaps willfully ignorant, perhaps truly unaware. So absurd! George could feel the words, a lump in his throat.

No sense drawing it out, he reminded himself, and knelt.

"Will you marry me, Roo?"

Playing with SeveralPerson’s Ultimate Decades Challenge Rules

Started: 1800

Current year: 1889

Family tree

Spreadsheet

CC Finds

#ts4 ultimate decades challenge #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 ultimate decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #decades challenge #ultimate decades challenge #spectre legacy #spectre family #npcs #spectre gameplay #npc gameplay #gameplay #ruby spectre #george brink #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #1880s #esoteric sims

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galatially · 8 months

Text

❝𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐈𝐈𝐈: feelings

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 x 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — and if i could say anything, i would say that it will always be you; you hadn't expected to have to ask for help, but when you do, it's from the one person you wished it wasn't

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 2.3K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — strong language, pining, general fluff

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — gasp! she updated!

It’s said that things come in threes.

Your shoelace coming apart this morning should’ve been the first sign. The second sign would’ve been when you dropped your coffee in the parking lot on the way into the office. Standing in front of your landlord as he told you that your apartment was water damaged finished the trio.

“I’ve called the tenants upstairs but they’re on vacation.”

“Why would they leave the patio door open when they weren’t going to be home? The rain’s been horrible this week.” Your eyes scanned all of your damaged furniture and appliances; there goes your vacation fund.

“They’re kids, Y/N, you know how that goes,” your landlord says, waving his hand.

“No, I don’t. I’m not made of money and I don’t leave kids in charge of an entire apartment.” You let out a hard sigh as you looked at the gaping hole in your ceiling. “How long until everything’s fixed?”

He lifted a shoulder. “A week, maybe two. Depends on what the contractors say.”

Great. Just fucking great.

If you were being honest, you should’ve moved out years ago. Sure, the rent compared to the nicer buildings in Brooklyn was fairly decent but the things that you had to put up with for the sake of said rent in a shitty studio apartment was bullshit. You ran a hand down your face and told your landlord to keep you posted as you dialed Serena’s number.

“Hey, girl!”

“Nat’s not there, is she?”

“Uh…” You heard shuffling and the closing of a door. “What’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe it.” You let out a shaky chuckle, your free hand on your forehead. “My apartment’s flooded. All of that shitty furniture that I’ve been meaning to replace, the new bed frame that I just got. All gone.” You put a hand to your forehead, your eyes and nose starting to burn from the tears threatening to spill. “Can I come over? The more I keep looking at everything, I’m going to have a mental break.”

“Of course! Let me get my keys and I’ll be over, okay?”

“So, don’t freak out, but Nat and I have company over.”

You and Serena had just pulled into her parking space when the air suddenly thickened. She’d turned the ignition off and turned to face you, her features twisted with worry.

“Okay…?”

“Steve’s in there.”

Had you been a teenager again, you’d have found a way to make your damaged apartment livable. What’s a water damaged loveseat when the man that you’ve fantasized about is less than twenty feet away? But you were fucking exhausted and the last thing you cared about was Steven Grant Rogers seeing you in your grubby scrubs and your braids slipping from the bun you’d put them in this morning.

“I’ll be fine, Rena. I just want to take a shower and sleep.”

Serena nodded and walked towards the house, leaving you to follow after her in silence. She left the door behind her like she had been since you were in high school and you heard the prevalent voices of some of the Avengers carrying towards you.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were coming!”

Natasha stood up and pulled you into your arms. You and the redhead became fast friends from the moment you’d set foot into Avengers Tower. You both had the same wry sense of humor and often found yourselves at the same bar on Eighty-Sixth street. She was one of the best partners Serena ever had and, while she teased you about it often, she was supportive when you let slip your crush on Steve.

“Hey, Nat.”

She pulled back, her brows furrowed. “What happened?”

As you opened your mouth, you saw a familiar pair of blue eyes on you. He moved to his knees and your eyes went back to Natasha’s. “Is it okay if I tell you later? I’m really tired.”

She nodded and you walked back towards their guest room, still feeling Steve’s eyes on you.

You awoke to the smell of fresh coffee.

When you reached out for your phone on the end table, you remembered that you weren’t in your apartment and that you left your phone in your pants pocket on the floor. You turned your gaze towards the ceiling and let out a long sigh.

“Y/N?” Natasha spoke from behind the closed door. “How you feeling?”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, a half smile drawing in the corner of your mouth. “Could be better. But what’s new?”

She opened the door further and walked into the room, sliding into bed beside you. She took hold of your hand and rested her head on your shoulder. At first, you were confused. Not with the sudden affection or her closeness, but with how she knew that’s what you needed in this moment.

“You want me to deal with those kids upstairs? I’ll make sure they pay you back in spades.”

You laughed. “Nah. Maybe I can finally make myself look for a new place.” You rested your head against hers. “I’m trying to think about it positively so that I don’t burn the whole complex down.”

“Say the word and Buck and I’ll start gathering supplies.”

“Don’t give him another reason to be a menace,” you said, snorting. “The amount of tending to he needs on a biweekly basis is insane.”

“Steve’s not far behind him.” You heard the lilt in her words. “He was asking about you after you went to bed last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t play coy,” Nat deadpanned, “We all know that you like him.”

“It’s fucking annoying! I’m twenty-nine years old and I can barely look the man in the eyes!”

“I think it’s cute.”

You bumped your shoulder with hers. “I’m being serious, Nat! It’s embarrassing!”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t think so.”

You waved off her words. “Anyway, I’ll try to find a hotel or something later on today.”

The redhead’s brows furrowed. “For what?”

“I’m not about to take up space from you guys if I don’t have to.”

She scoffed. “You wouldn’t be taking up space, Y/N, Jesus. We have a spare room for a reason.”

“And one bathroom,” you deadpanned. “I don’t know about you, but Serena needs at least seventy-five percent of the bathroom to herself.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Nat chuckled. “Do you know anyone that has an extra room or a couch to crash on?”

You shrugged. “Most of my friends from medical school are either married, in a relationship, or halfway across the country. My mom lives in Georgia. Both of my sisters are in Jersey.”

“You could ask Tony if he’s willing to let you stay in one of his many unused properties in Brooklyn.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s crossing a line regardless of how close Tony and I are.”

“Bucky?”

“He just got his new place, right? I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You both looked at each other, the question lingering heavy. You knew that he’d let you, it’s just his nature. Always looking out for people in need.

But living together, even if for a little while, would muddy things up for you. It was easy to hide your feelings when you could escape to your own place and let them pool at your feet. But to live with him? Even if was temporary, your stomach twisted with worry. You could live in your happy denial and be was none the wiser for it.

But being temporarily displaced would eventually affect your work. You loved working at Avengers Tower. It was luck that even got you the position and you were damn good at it.

You let out a long sigh. “Can you hand me my phone?”

Nat’s lips drew up as she leaned over the side of the bed. “Are you going to call him?”

You gave her your a flat look. “Please, don’t. You can joke all you want because Steve’s practically a sibling to you. I, on the other hand, have to keep from speaking Simlish whenever he so much as looks at me.”

She snickered, handing you your phone. “You’ve clearly never seen him choke on his own tongue whenever you’re in the room.”

Your eyes looked towards the door. “Do you mind? In case he tells me no and I have to die of embarrassment.” Nat started making kissing noises and poking at the side of your face. “If I didn’t know that you’d put me in a hospital, I’d bite your finger off.”

“If I didn’t see you as a sister, I’d let you, free of charge,” she retorted, rising from the bed. You wrinkled your nose when she said your name. “Even if he says no, which he won’t, Rena and I will make room for you.” She held up her hand, a bemused smirk on her lips. “Before you even say it, it’s not a problem or a burden. You’re family. Deal with it.”

You pursed your lips for a few moments before you spoke, your voice small. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to doing anything for me just because you’re dating my best friend.”

“And I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you just as much as she does,” Nat replied. “We’re friends of our own accord and if I want to help you, let me.” You opened your mouth but she stopped you with a raise of her brow. “Are you about to say that we’re not friends?”

“Of course not!”

“Okay, then.” She nodded towards your phone. “Call Steve and then come eat breakfast.” She closed the door behind her and you were left with the crushing realization of your circumstances.

You took a deep breath and pressed the call button underneath Steve’s contact photo.

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you hated it. Even hearing his voice over the phone sent your hormones into overdrive.

“Hey — er, good morning, Captain,” you cleared your throat, “how are you?”

Smooth, Y/N. Real smooth.

“I’m fine. Is everything okay?”

You gulped. “This is kind of embarrassing but I have a favor to ask.”

He answered so quickly you thought you misheard him. “Anything.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “I haven’t even asked the favor.”

“Whatever you need from me is yours.”

A warmth gathered in the pit of your stomach and bloomed throughout your body. His voice was low and husky, finality dripping from the words.

“I’m not sure you’ll think the same once you hear the favor, Captain.”

He chuckled. “Steve, sweetheart. Outside of the tower, I’m Steve.” You stuttered out an affirmative. “Now, what’s the favor?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “My apartment is flooded and I was wondering if you had any spare room? It’s completely fine if you don’t, I just — ”

“Do you need to grab anything from your apartment? I don’t have much in the way of toiletries but I do have some spare clothes for you to change into, if you need.”

He said yes.

He actually said yes?

“I — ”

“How do you feel about motorcycles?”

A light chuckle tumbled from your lips. “I haven’t ridden on one since high school but I’m flexible.”

“Great.” You heard faint shuffling and the jingling of keys. “You’re at Nat and Serena’s, right? I need to run out and get some things but I’ll swing by and pick you up after, okay?”

You were floored. You’d expected a bit of groveling on your end and the polite decline that would’ve put you back at square one.

“I can’t even begin to thank you, C — Steve. Truly.”

His voice softened. “I meant what I said; anything you need from me is yours.”

Fuck.

“In any case,” you cleared your throat, “you’re doing me a huge favor and I owe you one.” You looked at the digital clock on the nightstand; half past eight. “So, I should be ready by ten?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Thank you again.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. It’s my pleasure,” he said. “I’ll see you at ten.”

“See you.” The call disconnected and climbed out of the bed, mechanically making your way towards the kitchen.

“What’s up?” Nat asked, her brow raised. “What’d he say?”

“He’s coming to get me at ten.” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears.

Serena set a mug of coffee down in front of you, concern bowing her brows. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’m…still processing that part.”

“Uh-uh,” Nat turned your chair towards her, forcing your eyes to meet, “Don’t start overthinking this, Y/N Y/L/N. He’s not doing this just to be polite and he’s damn sure not doing it to make himself look better. He genuinely likes you.”

“Let’s say that I believe you, okay? What does he like about me? We don’t talk outside of work, we barely talk at work. Once we’re in the same space, we have to get to know each other. Every quirk, every flaw. If he gets to see the person that I am outside of the office and doesn’t like what he sees, what do I do with that?”

Nat frowned some. “You’re putting him on a pedestal he doesn’t deserve, Y/N. He’s who he is by circumstance, not by design. And as far as him not liking you for who you are, he’d be fucking lucky to even get so much as a glance from you.”

“And if he so much as says anything about your cute little snores, I’ll kick his ass all up and down the Brooklyn Bridge,” Serena warned.

You smiled.

“The point is,” Nat continued, “neither one of you know each other and, while this is a bit unorthodox, you could fix that. If by the end of the week you don’t want to stay there, just call us and we’ll figure something out.” She raised a hand, stopping your next words. “Again, if you say another word about how you’re a burden to your friends, I’m going to hang you off the side of the Empire State building.”

The corners of your mouth lifted as you took another sip of your coffee. “Love you, too, Nat.”

She smiled warmly. “Hurry up and eat before Cap gets here.”

By nine forty-five, you were showered, moisturized, and out of your day old scrubs waiting in the living room with Serena and Natasha watching a movie.

“Why do you like this movie, Y/N? It’s so ridiculous!”

Your mouth gaped at your best friend. “Um, excuse you! This is one of the best rom-coms ever! What’s more romantic than a marketing executive falling in love with a chef through the power of food and magic?”

“She can’t cook!” Nat argued.

“That’s where the magic crab comes in!”

A knock on the door made you pause, your pulse kicking up.

“Come in!” Serena called out.

The door opened, Steve’s eyes lighting up when he sees you. “Hey.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Hey.”

“What the fuck, Cap, you’re just going to ignore me in my own house?” Natasha stood up from the couch and moved to pull the Avenger into a hug. “I thought you were coming at ten?”

“I got done with my errands earlier than I expected and was in the neighborhood.” He pulled back and shot a smile to Serena. “Mornin’, Rena.”

“Morning, Stevie.”

His blue eyes found yours again. “You ready?”

You nodded and rose to your feet. Serena pulled you into a hug.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Rena.”

“Of course! You’re my person, the Maxine to my Khadijah.” She pulled back, a smile in her face. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

“I love you, too, bitch.”

“All right, lovebirds, I want a hug, too,” Nat teased, playfully pushing her girlfriend away to wrap her arms around your shoulders. “Take care of yourself and don’t be afraid to call us if you need anything at all.”

“I will. I’ll see you at work.”

“God, I hope not,” she joked.

You rolled your eyes and turned to Steve. “Lead the way.”

You both walked onto the porch and as you were making your way to his bike, he stopped you with his hand. You turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“I just — I’m glad you called.”

You smiled. “I’m glad you picked up. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He nodded towards his bike. “You used to ride?”

“I had a few partners that did in high school and college.” You smirked, walking down the porch steps. “I was going to get my license after I graduated but my residency kind of took over.”

“Would you still want to?”

You shrugged. “Maybe one day when I have time.”

Steve hummed to himself before asking, “Did we have to stop by your apartment to grab anything?”

“Yeah,” your shoulders sagged, “hopefully I have something salvageable. Most of my money’s about to go into finding a new place and replacing all of my furniture —”

“Hey, hey.” He took hold of your hands. “If you don’t have anything, we can go somewhere and get you new things.”

You frowned. “I’m already putting you out, Steve.”

“No one’s putting anyone out. You’re my friend and I’m helping you out.”

Friend.

Of course he only saw you as a friend.

You carefully slipped your hands from his and gave him a small smile. “If you say so, Cap.” You turned on your heel and went to straddle the back end of his back. When you looked up at him, he seemed confused. “What?”

“I —” He shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — not gon' even hold y'all, i'm fucking edging myself at this point and i don't like it lol

but these next two chapters? some of my greatest fluff i've ever fluffed

#galatially #painting every color for you #painting every color for you series #feelings #steve rogers #steve rogers x black!reader #doctor!black!reader #captain america #captain america x black!reader #captain america x doctor!black!reader

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threewaywithdelusion · 11 months

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Keeley and Jamie Meet

I've been writing so much Ted Lasso fan fiction, but seem to be totally incapable of focusing on one project at a time. So here's a JamieKeeley pre-canon fic I was working on today (feel free to brit-pick or critique, it's a rough draft)

The first time Keeley saw Jamie Tartt, she’d just come off a shoot with Shandy and Ellie and they’d gone to get drinks at a nice club to celebrate the end of the long workday. She was in her own club clothes — a single-strapped bodysuit paired with a pink miniskirt and strappy, tall hells — but her hair and makeup was all from the shoot, which had been eighties themed, and made her whole outfit look a bit odd.

Shandy and Ellie were out on the dance floor but Keeley’s feet hurt from her shoes and she decided to sit at the bar, sip overpriced drinks, and people-watch.

That was when she noticed Jamie. He was impossible to miss, in a loudly-patterned graffiti shirt unbuttoned far enough that Keeley could confirm he had a six-pack. He was at a table with a group of men, but he didn’t seem to be talking to any of them. He was scowling moodily and that should have been a red flag, but frankly it made his cheekbones look fucking fantastic.

It took Keeley only a moment to realize the group of men was a football team and then she had to roll her eyes at herself. She didn’t even care about football, but somehow football players were always exactly her type. Maybe some evil witch had put a curse on Keeley where she could only date sexy, sexy football players for all eternity. It was probably one of those curses that looked like a nice spell at first.

Keeley’s last boyfriend, Harry, had been a player for Brighton. They’d been together for six lovely months before Keeley had walked in on him fucking another girl and ended it on the spot. He’d blamed their long-distance relationship, never mind that Brighton was only an hour and a half away from London and he’d been in town almost every other weekend playing some London team.

After that, Keeley had decided she was done with football players. Maybe it was time to go back to girls.

Keeley finished her drink, the straw making a sucking sound against the bottom of the glass. A quick look around showed Shandy and Ellie were still dancing and didn’t seem put off by the men dancing on them, so Keeley began scanning the menu.

“Can I buy you a drink?” asked a man’s voice with a thick Mancunian accent. Keeley turned and saw it was the man from before, with the abs and the cheekbones, grinning cheekily at her.

Up close and with the helpful hint from his accent, Keeley realized she recognized him. This was Jamie Tartt, the kid from Man City who Harry had complained about for a whole week last season. Keeley had watched the Brighton- Man City game like a dutiful girlfriend, so she had seen when Man City had put Jamie Tartt on the field with ten minutes left on the game. The pundits had called it mad because though Man City had been leading 4-1, the cup hadn’t been secure in their hands, with the fate of the Premier League trophy depending not only on the Man City-Brighton game, but the Liverpool-Wolverhampton game as well. It was madness to put substitute a starting line player for a young benchwarmer like Jamie Tartt.

But Jamie had gotten the ball and run past Brighton’s defense — meaning Harry — and taken a shot on goal. The goalie had caught it, thank God, but Harry had been criticized in the papers after for letting a second team player like Jamie Tartt slip past him.

Keeley had quickly gotten tired of hearing Harry complain about Jamie Tartt. Then Harry had gotten into bed with some random girl and his complaining hadn’t been her problem anymore.

“You’re Jamie Tartt,” Keeley said.

Jamie grinned smugly, tongue between his teeth. “I am. I saw you looking at me. Thought I’d come over and say hi.”

Keeley scoffed and shook her head. “What? So you hit on any girl who looks your way?”

“Only the fit ones,” Jamie said. “And there’s no one fitter than Keeley fucking Jones.”

Keeley’s eyebrows went up. She wasn’t sure Jamie’s exact age, but it was getting more and more rare for young footballers to recognize her. Harry had been 26, almost her own age, and had no bloody clue who she was when they’d first met.

Right, Harry. Keeley was done with footballers, no matter how fit or flattering they may be.

“You can buy me a drink,” she said. “But I’m not going home with you.”

Jamie pouted, his bottom lip actually sticking out. It was ridiculous. It was endearing. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t owe you anything for a drink,” Keeley said. She’d been in this position before, with far too many men who thought spending a few pounds on drinks meant they’d bought the right to take her home.

“What about a dance?” Jamie asked.

“No.”

“A chat, then?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he pleaded, pressing into her space with a smile. “You might like me.”

“Jamie,” Keeley said tightly, holding up a hand to stop him. “I said no.” She’d been right to establish boundaries right away, because it was clear he didn’t know how to respect them.

Only Jamie surprised her. He stepped out of her space and flagged the bartender down. “One shot of vanilla vodka. And whatever the lady wants, yeah?”

“I’m not having sex with you,” Keeley reminded him.

The bartender, a pretty blonde woman, gave Keeley a supportive thumbs-up.

“It’s not a sex drink,” Jamie said. “It’s a sorry-for-being-a-dick drink, yeah? I didn’t mean to push. I thought we were playing, like.”

He seemed sincere, hands twisting in the bottom of his shirt, eyes wide on her like he was trying to read her expression. Maybe it was stupid of her, but Keeley believed him that he hadn’t meant to push her after she’d said no.

She turned to the bartender. “What’s your most expensive drink?”

The bartender gave Keeley a wicked smile. “If you want a cocktail, it’s the Elderflower-Plum Highball. If you mean overall, we have some bottles of champagne that cost near 200 pounds.”

Keeley raised her eyebrows at Jamie.

“Champagne, please,” he told the bartender.

The bartender smiled and winked at Keeley. She really was pretty. Maybe Keeley should take her home instead.

It only took a moment for the bartender to return with a bottle of champagne. She presented it to Keeley so she could read the label, then popped it carefully so the cork didn’t fly, the way they did at all the fancy places. Keeley had waitressed for a bit as a teenager, before her modeling career took off, and she knew that was harder than it looked.

The bartender pulled out a champagne glass and filled it, setting it in front of Keeley.

Keeley sipped the champagne. It was cold and bubbly and sweet. Keeley probably wouldn’t have spent £200 on it, but it was very good.

Beside her, Jamie did his shot of vanilla vodka with his eyes on her, looking pleased that she’d liked the champagne.

“I’m going back to my mates,” he said. “It was nice to meet you, Keeley Jones.”

Keeley didn’t know whether or not it had been nice to meet Jamie, so she didn’t say anything at all. He nodded his head and walked away, back to the football team that hadn’t even seemed to notice his absence.

The bartender leaned over the bar, smiling. “That was well clever of you.”

Keeley shrugged. “He was a dick. He deserved it.”

The bartender rolled her eyes, gesturing at the group of footballers. “They’re all dicks.”

“Yeah,” Keeley agreed. “Thanks for being my partner in crime.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled. “My pleasure.”

“I’m Keeley,” Keeley said. Introducing herself was a bit out of place in a casual conversation with a bartender, but Keeley had a feeling this wasn’t going to end here.

The bartender smiled. “Alice. You dead set on going home alone tonight?”

Ooh, yes, Keeley had been right. She leaned into the bar. “Not if a better option presents itself. Why, you got someone in mind?”

By the time Alice’s shift finished and she and Keeley fell into bed in Alice’s flat together, Jamie Tartt was the last thing on Keeley’s mind.

***

Keeley didn’t want to admit it, but she was getting old. Not old for a real person of course, but old for a model. The shelf-life for a beautiful woman didn’t go much past 30 and Keeley felt that birthday looming closer every day. She’d turned 29 last month and had to force a smile while she pretended to eat cake that wasn’t on her diet plan.

She wasn’t too old just yet — she still got gigs, including the modeling gig she’d just done earlier that day. But the offers had slowed down, companies turning to prettier, younger models to try to sell their merchandise with the promise of sex.

It meant Keeley had let her manager go, and was now scheduling her own gigs. She actually quite liked that part — maybe in a few years when she was too old for all of this, she could help the pretty young thing who’d taken her place to fill her calendar with modeling gigs, club appearances, and commercials. But all that meant that Keeley was standing morosely at the bar, feeling just a little too old and a little too drunk, when the man from last week came up to her again.

“Jamie Tartt,” she said.

“Keeley Jones,” he said, in that cute Mancunian accent of his.

“Are you stalking me?”

“No, I swear,” Jamie said, putting his hands up like he was protesting his innocence. “You’ve just got good taste in clubs, I guess.”

Keeley hummed. “Buy me a drink?”

She was pushing it, but he laughed and flagged down the bartender. He ordered a double shot of vanilla vodka and she ordered a jaegerbomb on his tab.

“Is this still an apology?” she asked.

Jamie’s eyes went wide. “Shit Keeley, are you trying to drink me out of house and home? How expensive is an apology?”

Keeley laughed. “It’s not like you can’t afford it, playing for the winners of the Premier Cup.”

The smile faded from Jamie’s face. “I’m not at City right now, actually. I’m on loan to fucking Richmond.”

He looked genuinely annoyed about it.

“Sorry,” Keeley said. “Even my ex said Richmond aren’t great, and he plays for Brighton.”

Jamie brightened. “You know football.”

“A bit,” Keeley admitted. “I’ve dated a lot of footballers.”

Jamie frowned. “So it’s just me you’ve got a problem with?”

“No,” Keeley said. “I don’t have a problem with you. Buy me another drink?”

Jamie frowned, his head tipping to the side. “Aren’t you going to tell me you’re not going home with me?”

Keeley shrugged. “It’s a new week. I might.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide. He really was fit, with a narrow waist, abs she could see through his shirt (open down to his navel again), and a jawline that could cut glass. He wore his hair gelled up like a dick and Keeley had sworn off footballers after Harry, but he was young and talented and fit and he didn’t seem to care that they’d had to photoshop Keeley’s smile lines at the shoot today.

He didn’t care that she was old.

Jamie bought her another drink and Keeley gave him a smile and went off to dance with her friends. The music was loud and the lights were bright and on the dance floor, Keeley still felt young. She danced with a few men, dodged a few kisses and groping hands, then made her way to the loo. When she came out, she walked past a table of footballers.

Jamie, with two others she didn’t recognize. She went up to Jamie again. “Buy me a drink?”

The two other boys whistled and Jamie got a cocky smile on his face but still shushed his friends. He bought Keeley another drink and she waved and him and went back to the dance floor.

She danced for another hour before her feet started to hurt and the dance floor began to feel too hot. A quick glance showed Jamie was still sitting at a table with his friends, so Keeley went to the bar, ordered a drink, then made her way over.

“Vanilla vodka for you,” she said, pressing the shot into Jamie’s hand and sliding into his lap at the same time. He sloshed the drink a little as he moved to catch her, one hand stiffly at her shoulder like he wasn’t sure she wanted to be touched but was even less sure she wanted to be dumped on the floor.

Keeley leaned in to whisper in Jamie’s ear. “Take me home.”

Jamie pulled back, genuine surprise in his eyes. “Yeah?”

It made something warm in Keeley — something besides all the alcohol. He’d actually listened to her — he really hadn’t been buying her drinks just to get into her pants. Maybe that was a low bar, but fuck it, Keeley was drunk and she wanted to feel young and stupid for one more night.

“Yeah,” Keeley said, biting her bottom lip and nodding.

Jamie knocked the shot back and stood in a hurry, lifting Keeley to her feet with those fancy footballer muscles.

“G’night lads,” he told the other two boys. Then he led Keeley out of the club.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt #keeley jones #jamie x keeley #jamiekeeley #mia writes fanfic

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