#maybe he thought he was overdressed in a suit! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sushirrrry · 2 months

Note

would love to see a blurb about best friend harry thinking yn’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve her and accidentally confesses his feelings for her

bound a harry styles one-shot blurb; 7.2k words cw: fluff fluff and more fluff

When Harry had booked this trip, there were three things that he was looking forward to.

One of them was the open bar that their friends—the new Mr. and Mrs. Moxley—would be providing to them, which would include a couple gin and tonics too many.

The second was the beachfront room that he had scored from the credit card points he had expertly racked up the past few months, especially for this trip to Barcelona for his friend’s wedding. He thought he had scored a pretty good deal.

The third was seeing Cassidy for a weekend straight.

While the two of them lived in the same city, they were walking different paths at the moment, which had never been them. There were nights that they met for dinner, almost like nothing had changed. But Harry lived in South London; he had been working long nights in the museum, Cassidy was on the opposite side of the city working at her accounting position she had taken recently.

Both hadn’t had each other’s undivided attention in quite some time, and Harry was looking forward to the possibility of having that again. The kind of attention, the kind of laughs and indescribable joy that they had both needed—he was sure of it.

If there was one thing that he knew about Cass, it was that she was sprinting on the plane to get the vacation she had been looking forward to.

Plus, neither of them had a plus-one this time around.

That meant that it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk every time he thought of it. Undivided attention.

Harry had thrown on a linen suit for the welcome party; the night before the wedding. He had started to unpack his room, trying to pass the time before he knew that Cass would arrive. Once he heard a buzzing on his phone, his head lifted from looking down into his suitcase and towards the device on the duvet.

If there was one thing Harry was going to do on his vacation, it was unpack the entirety of his suitcase before doing anything else.

iddy: smyf

The small acronym ‘show me your fit’ made him smile before he noticed a few more texts rolling in, the dots precursing them on the phone.

iddy: for tonight, not right now. I should have clarified. Please don’t send a pic of your penis

iddy: someone has to make sure I’m not overdressed. How do you dress for a pre-wedding dinner

The panic over the texts was exactly how Harry knew Cassidy; she worried over small things but overlooked the bigger picture. It was a small, miniscule flaw, really.

But before he’s able to even move towards the large mirror in his bathroom, his phone vibrates again. His attention is grabbed by the way that his eyes move over the image that comes in, rather than the words he had been reading from her.

And something about it made him stop in his tracks on his own way to show her what he had looked like.

Something about the way that she held the phone up to the mirror, giving a small pout—a playful one, as if unsure of herself. The way that the wisps of her hair were around her face, but the rest was pulled back by a clip—he was certain of it. She didn’t like having her hair down if she could help it.

Harry swallowed in the comfort of the room, almost like he was trying to keep himself from getting caught in the moment, even when no one was around. His eyes flew over the soft baby blue of the dress, the way that it dipped down, just a bit.

The way that the color danced over her tanned skin; maybe even a bit red from the sun he was certain that she had taken apart in as soon as they hopped off the plane. Harry knew that she bathed in the sun whenever it came out in London; she wouldn’t have gotten burned there, though.

There were dainty cream flower details—maybe stitching, even—on the dress as he zoomed in to get a better look at it.

His thumb cruised over the message, writing out a message before he pressed send.

Harry: good thing you told me not to send you a pic of my penis! Was about to!

Harry: also, you look beautiful, c

He frowned when she sent another message.

iddy: ok but am I overdressed

Harry: no, see

Harry held his phone up to the mirror as she had done to him—as they had done for one another many times before. But something about the way he looked in it bothered him for a moment. He fixed his hair, running his hand through it, almost to make sure that it looked much better than usual. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit before he sent the picture through to her.

The cream suit was opened, a white shirt settled underneath it. He wore a pair of his favorite white sneakers that fit like a glove, even a bit scuffed—but he felt that that balanced the outfit.

When he sent the photo, he waited a moment for Cass to send something back. But it felt like the longer he stared, the more pressure he felt to not see the grey dots coming back on the screen.

He bit the inside of his lip, waiting patiently before he locked the phone and slid it down into his pocket.

Instead of worrying about that, Harry checked his watch to see that it was closing in on six-thirty– which meant that he was fashionably late to the six o’clock time for the dinner.

He spritzed a bit more cologne, checked his teeth in the mirror, and pushed the bunches of curls off of his forehead that he meant to get cleaned up before coming on this trip but simply losing track of time.

He grabbed his wallet– hoping to not lose it or need it– and walked out of the hotel room door, down towards the lobby where he figured everyone would be gathering. He figured he'd take the long way, walking through some groups of people until he saw a grand staircase to lead down into the lobby area.

Harry figured that he would walk that way, down towards the main area where some familiar faces had collected for cocktail hour and drinks. His eyes maneuvered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Cass in any capacity.

Walking down the stairs, he saw Mari and Logan– the bride and groom– and greeted both of them accordingly. Mari and Harry had worked together back at uni, so they had become close friends. There may have been a night or two when Harry and Mari actually went home together, but they chalked that up to some consensual stress release.

When she started dating Logan, they started to hang around everyone more– which then included Cassidy. They would all go out together to the pubs after classes and had become really great friends since then. It was no surprise that this kind of event would bring them all together again.

“Have you guys seen Cass yet?” Harry asked, looking around. “I haven't seen here since she got here. She texted me but didn't get a response.”

Mari looked at him a bit suspiciously before turning to Logan for a moment. “Didn't you guys RSVP together?”

Harry looked up at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“No– I mean, no, I didn't respond with her name or anything. Did she do that for me?” He had thought that he marked one salmon meal and that was it.

Mari bit her lip as she blinked at him a few times. “No, but she RSPV’d a plus one, I think. Or she said something a few months ago– it's a bit fuzzy, but she told me she was coming with someone else. I– I mean, I was certain it would be you.”

Harry’s smile faltered just a bit before he shook his head, the hands in his pockets had turned to fists as he turned to look around him. Wondering if he'd lay eyes on her or watch her holding hands with another guy.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, but the excitement of seeing her for the first time in a while was slowly dwindling before he turned his head for what felt like the millionth time looking for her.

But this time, his vision landed on her. The rosy colored glasses that he saw her threw was starting to dim as the picture got a bit blurry.

The baby blue dress that fell just below her knees, the dip in the front. The silky material hung on her body, but his eyes stood on the hand that hand firmly on her waist as if to keep her tucked into him.

His greatest fears becoming reality as he looked up the girl giggling at a probable reasonable remark.

Cassidy took a break from her schoolgirl giggling to see Mari and Logan standing there, looking at her and the person practically wrapped around her. But when looked up to see that Harry had also been standing right there, a sudden course of fear trembled through her.

Fear was a strong word; worry was more like it.

She had known how Harry was, which is why she kept this a secret from him. Now, he was forced to get to know her boyfriend of three months because they were here on their own accord for a weekend. They would spend it together, having each other in their lives for a weekend. That's what he had requested, and what she could agree to.

He had promised her that– even if he hadn't realized that had included this moment right here, yet.

“Hi, guys!” Cass put on her smile, a gorgeous one that pushed the dimples on her chin forward. “Mari, you look so beautiful!”

The girls wove into a hug, Harry standing and staring at the man who had let Cassidy go– looking a bit as if he was uncomfortable at letting someone else touch her. His eyes stayed on them as Cassidy pulled back and moved onto Logan, congratulating them on the whole marriage thing.

It was like she was taking a moment before she would get to him. She looked at Mari’s ring, gushing about how beautiful it was and she beautiful she looked.

Her eyes reached Harry’s then, a sheepish smile on her face before she pushed her arms out to wrap her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other around his ribs.

“It's so good to see you.” She commented; he wanted to say something back but the comfort of her made his face retreat into the slot of her shoulder and neck.

When they pulled away, he got a real look at her and gave her the smile she had been waiting to see.

“So glad you're here.” He told her before feeling like a blush had intermittently taken its place in his cheeks.

Their connection had faded a moment before she paused; she took a breath and stepped back before remembering the man who stood behind them.

“Guys, this is–“ She looked up at him, “This is Dalton. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and just thought it would be so good to introduce him here since we're all here.”

Harry had to try to remember to release the fists in his pocket before he would go to shake his hand.

“Dalton, this is Mari and Logan– the bride and groom,” She introduced, letting him shake their hands and give their respective hello’s, followed by congratulations and thanks. But then she turned to Harry, Dalton’s composure changing a moment before he watched Harry’s change too.

Cassidy felt small between them as she stares at the way they faced one another.

“Uh, Dalton, this is my friend, Harry. Harry, this is Dalton.”

Harry lets one of the sides of his face turn up in a smile before he reaches out to be the better person. “Best friend, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Cassidy looks at Harry, almost giving him a really?

The grip of the man’s hands together feels tense as Dalton gives him a courtesy, “Nice to meet you, too.”

As Cassidy watches the interaction, she notices that the way that Harry stands is taller and fuller—like he’s trying to prove to Dalton that he’s bigger, he’s better—that he could end him in a moment’s notice, if need be. She holds onto Dalton’s arm, practically pulling the man from his trance with trying to overthrow Harry’s dominance.

“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” She offers, giving Harry another grin before Cassidy and Dalton makes their way over to the bar area.

Harry watches tentatively before he notices that Logan and Mari are also a bit in shock by the interaction and the couth that Cassidy had to bring someone into this sacred space, once again. Harry knew how Cassidy felt most days about herself—she looked for the satisfaction of a partner, the confidence boost that having someone on her arm could bring her.

It was reassuring to Harry to think that she could go into a room by herself; owning the space and knowing who she was. That was what he was hoping for in this interaction, but instead, she had to enter with someone else.

And with that, came the idea that the men that Cassidy picked always had a knack for making her the jealous type. Harry could always tell that her reactions became much more aggressive, her body language becoming possessive.

Cassidy wanted to feel like she was the most special girl in the world, and somehow, Harry was always left picking up the pieces of her tortured, stomped on heart after the last guy had decided that she wasn’t good enough. What the men in Cass’ life failed to see, was that her heart was always borrowed, on loan. It was never theirs to keep, because they never nurtured it or regarded it in any sense.

Her kindness had been taken from granted, her will to give was always overused and spent.

Harry knew that his love for Cassidy ran deeper than the deepest oceans, and wider than the largest forests, but something inside of him knew that they were better off as friends. Maybe it was because she was smart, and he figured she would have figured it out by now; the way he looked at her overruled the way he would ogle art painted on canvas, or sculptures tall and mighty.

He was always there with a rose and a smile, standing outside her door after the last guy packed his belongings and left for good.

It was why watching her happy, standing by the bar without a care in the world broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew that he was always there to rescue her, and he could see by the way that the guy stood away from her—maybe even trying to get a glimpse of the other women around him. But Cassidy’s naivety kept her eyes locked on the man instead, her irises shaped like hearts.

Mari and Logan had started a new conversation with another few people, Harry stood with his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out a course of action. He had figured that the night would be wasted away—quite literally and figuratively—with Cassidy by his side, but now he felt more alone than he had before.

A man with champagne on a tray walked by, and Harry grabbed two flutes. One for each hand. He downed one quickly before he made his way back to the bar where the two of them had been standing before setting one of the glasses down and keeping the other before he noticed that Cassidy had grabbed a glass of red wine—Cab Sav, most likely.

The man—Dalton—held a short, rocks-glass that just had something clear in it, possibly straight vodka, if he was brave.

“So, you really didn’t bring anyone? Haven’t met anyone yet? You’ve usually grabbed a few asses by now,” Cassidy spoke out, moving around Dalton to get closer to Harry. He turned his attention back to her, shaking his head a few times.

“No—I mean, I thought we were just going to hang out. I didn’t know you were bringing someone.” Harry’s eyes flicked up towards Dalton’s before he watched Cassidy bite her lip. The red on her lips had either been from the stain of the wine or the way she bit on her lip; either way, Harry found it to be enticing enough to stare for a beat too long.

“I—I don’t know, I just assumed you would have brought someone with you. Weren’t you seeing someone?”

Harry took a sip from the flute, shrugging casually, “Yeah. But not like, exclusively.”

Cassidy nodded a few times, raising her brows, “Is it ever exclusive with you?”

There was a teasing tone in her voice, but the way that her eyes lifted to investigate his own only made his stomach drop at the intention. Harry felt an incredible sting through his chest as he cleared his throat, almost to wash away the sensitivity that he felt around his heart.

He went to speak, but his lips didn’t seem to let any words leave. Instead, the bartender interrupted as Harry realized that there may have been a small line forming behind them.

Harry, Cassidy, and Dalton moved to the side a bit—all three having their drinks in their hands before they found themselves in a circle of silence. Each taking sips of their drinks before Dalton seemed to make a move of conversation towards Harry, nodding at him.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” He licked over his lips, a tight smile painted on his face before Harry could respond.

“I’m—uh, I’m an art curator. At a small art gallery in London.”

Cassidy chimed in, “Harry has great taste, actually. He’s put together some really great art expos and exhibits.”

“Hm,” Dalton hummed, “Where is the gallery? My parents host charity galas, and we are on the board at the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery.” He chuckles a bit, “I assume you’re not curating there.”

Harry feels the way that his jaw tightens, almost an innate reaction to the way that the man puts him down. Harry pushes his shoulders back before lifting his head. Cassidy looks to Dalton, speaking on Harry’s behalf.

“N-No, it’s—” But she’s interrupted when Harry speaks, then.

“It’s neither of those, no. It’s a bit more modern, helping to lift unknown artists who are looking to make their way into the conversation, which I think it’s very important. Especially now, our worldview is so mirrored by adding such high value to art that never needed it to begin with—art shouldn’t have value like that, in my opinion.” He felt that his tongue had a bit of venom on it when he took a larger sip of the champagne, practically downing that one, as well.

Dalton nodded. “I see. Well, I assume that amateur art wouldn’t have a value like Michelangelo or Vermeer, would they? But I think it’s presumptuous to say that art doesn’t have value. Everything has a price.”

Cassidy took in a breath before she took a large sip of wine; her eyes went to Harry who almost seemed like he would explode at any moment.

“Most things don’t have a price. Nothing has a price, it’s all relative. We, as a society, added price so people of higher status could act like they were better than other people, when it was all a façade to just make them look a bit fancier with their pretty goldleaf vases and Vermeer’s. A Vermeer painting doesn’t hold value to me, anyways.”

Dalton nodded a few times, giving a mock toast to the man in front of him, before he looked down at Cassidy.

“Yeah, that’s quite obvious. Class isn’t a given, it’s inherited. You should see the types of people that try to get their hands on these gala tickets, as if it’s some sort of carnival they can just attend. Half of them don’t have two quid to rub together, and it’s just embarrassing at that point.”

Harry took a step forward before Cassidy realized that his expression meant one of anger. Her arm pushed him back a bit before Dalton recognized the move and his eyes held a gentle smirk of cockiness.

It sat in Cassidy’s throat as she felt the deflation of her confidence. The weekend she had been looking forward to being was diminished quick before her eyes, and all she could do was count on the glass of wine that hadn’t even really been filled halfway.

“What he means is, being exclusive is an honor, and you of all people should know that, I’m sure.” Her eyes drive up to him, and Harry looks at her with that same feeling of hurt that he had felt moments ago by the bar. Harry’s lips parted as he looked at her and felt the subtle sting of her accusation.

Whether or not she meant it as a jab, he wasn’t quite sure, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

“Excuse me, Cassidy,” Dalton chuckles with a hint of a mocking tone, “I can speak for myself, darling. No need to interrupt.”

In just that moment, Harry felt himself push against Cassidy’s arm that had been subtly holding him back with no force other than the small barrier of her shoulder. The small push sent Cassidy off balance, which in turn allowed the slosh of wine to knock around her glass.

“And who are you to talk to her like that?” Harry questioned; his eyes now centered on Dalton as his brow knit together. “Fuck off with that, will you?”

“Bloody hell,” Cassidy gasped out, her eyes dropping to the small amount of wine that covered the hardwood floor underneath them—small droplets of the red wine were coating the bottom of her dress; only enough for her to notice, really, but her eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harry and Dalton both turned to her then, Harry’s eyes dropping to the way that she held her dress up to get a bit of a better glimpse of the stain.

“Oh, fuck, Cass. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do that. Hey, I’ll clean it up—” Harry moves towards her, his hand holding at her bicep to help keep her balance.

“Good work, mate.” Dalton eyed Harry, who felt the need to clench his fists again. He did so rather quickly, trying to get the feeling of anger to subside for the moment so that he could focus on Cassidy in the moment.

“It’s fine—really, I just want to make sure it doesn’t stain. I—let me go back to my room, I think I have a stain stick.” She lifts her head to look at before she starts to move out of the small space.

“Let me help,” Harry offers, starting to follow behind her. It feels like an opportunity to take—the two of them alone for just a moment so that he can gauge how she’s really feeling about Dalton and this whole situation. The first few minutes of him have Harry already written off, and he knows the type of person she needs to be with should never be one to talk over her.

“No—Harry, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” She says quickly before she feels Dalton’s hand on her, as if to help guide her.

“I can help, darling.” He tells her, “Don’t worry about it. We can buy you a new one, if it’s too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes and practically gags at the way he speaks to her. As if Cassidy couldn’t buy her own, for herself. He watches as he feels that Cassidy may be a bit overwhelmed by the two of them staring at her, knowing that they’re both fighting for her attention and affection.

The look on her face suggests as such before she look at Harry and blinks a few times, noticing that he had started to back off a bit. Not that he really wanted to, but knowing her, she didn’t want all the attention on her at once.

Harry downed the rest of the champagne, leaving the flute on a small table before Cassidy knit her brows and shook her head. “Actually, Harry— can you help? Your mum’s stain trick always seems to work. I can’t remember, though.”

His eyes float to Dalton who seems a bit taken aback by her push to have Harry go up to her room with her instead.

Harry nods a few times, watching as Dalton goes to speak, but Cassidy reassures him. “I’ll be right back, okay? We won’t be long.” She hands the man her wine glass, only a quarter full now, as most of it had landed on the sandy wood floors.

It’s then that the two of them take off towards the elevator. Cassidy has a bit of a stomp in her step, almost like she’s making sure that her and Harry aren’t in direct line so he can’t speak to her. The fits of anger that bubble in her chest is unexplained as she goes to press the elevator button to go upwards. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the way that the light changes to go upwards.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Cassidy speaks out, a bit quietly as if to just think her thoughts—not say them outwardly.

“C’mon, Cass, he's got the ego of a narcissist and the smile of a Kennedy, you really think a guy like this could be the love of your life? Honestly.” Harry hounded her as they entered the elevator. He reached for the button, but Cassidy was already there, pressing three.

“That's not fair, Harry, you don't know him.” She settled against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, feeling the movement before she held onto the railing behind her. “He’s extremely smart, he’s confident—he knows what he wants. Which I think you and him may not agree on.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at her, knowing she wouldn’t look at him—but knowing that he had to say the words to her.

“But I know you.”

Cassidy shakes her head as if she’d heard that from him before. Something about the mixture of the two men felt familiar with many of the guys she had brought home, or brought to meet Harry, really. She couldn’t figure out if he just couldn’t understand that she was dating this guy—not just sleeping with him. They were forming a connection, but maybe Harry didn’t understand that.

Harry didn’t understand the concept of falling in love was possible, probably because she had never seen that happening. She had never seen Harry madly in love with someone; never seen his heart broken before. She didn’t know if that was a red flag or if that was a person choice that he didn’t allow for himself.

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him ruin her chances at finding it—no matter what his personal opinions were.

“So, why are you putting me through this? C’mon, no one is ever good enough for you. I never said I was going to marry the guy!”

The shuffle of them towards the door to the hotel room increases as Cassidy throws the key against the electronic pad to open the door. Harry follows in quickly behind as she throws her shoes off. Harry makes sure to avoid tripping and falling over them but knows diligently that she takes her shoes off every time she walks through her door—without fail.

He knew that.

“But why waste your time if you won't spend your life with him?” Harry questions, turning on the light in the foyer of the small room that Cassidy and Dalton were sharing. Harry’s eyes tried not to wander as he saw the unfamiliarity of the dark navy suitcase on the floor next to the TV.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t,” Cass answers a bit with a huff as she rustles through her own suitcase to try to find the detergent stick, she had forgotten to throw in her bag, “All I said was I wasn't sure if I would, maybe I will! Also, I can throw that question right back at you, Mr. One-and-Done.”

Harry stands with his hands in his pockets as he knits his brows together at her answer.

“I just don’t think he’s the one, Cass. That’s all I said. You don’t have to insult me, too.”

“No, Harry, that’s not all you said,” She retorts, “You rolled your eyes, you were a bit disrespectful, you—you started like,” She scrunches her nose when she comes back with the detergent stick in his hand as she sits on the edge of the bed. “You were like puffing your chest at him or something—like you were trying to prove a point. Just because he doesn’t share the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean he’s wrong, you know?”

Harry pursed his lips as she had walked by him, feeling that her entrance into the room gave him permission to follow. He didn’t want to pry into her life if he wasn’t invited to.

“I was not puffing my chest at him, that’s ridiculous.”

He took a seat next to her on the bed as she pulled the long dress up just to her knee to try and rub the stain stick over the red wine stain before she dropped the fabric in her lap.

“Yes, you were,” She tells him, “You do that whenever a guy gets too close, like you’re trying to scare them off or something, and it’s bullshit because you don’t even give them a chance.”

“Why would I give them a chance when I can obviously tell that they’re not good for you?”

Cassidy dropped the dress fabric in her lap as she sighed a bit louder, very obviously done with the back and forth where no one would win. Her head turned towards Harry, sitting next to her now. The way that her throat tightened when their eyes met almost immediately threatened her composure.

“You never give them a chance, Harry,” She tells him with honesty in her tone; wanting him to listen to her like he had never listened before. She knew that he was hard-headed, stubborn to say the least. But she knew that when he really knew she was serious, he would back down. “I just want to make this work, okay? He’s a good guy—I promise, he is. And he would make my life comfortable. He’s looking for a wife, a family. He’s looking to settle down. We’re thirty, Harry—I want to have these commitments, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t doubt he’s a good guy, Cass—really, I—” He stops himself as he thinks of all the people he’s made promise’s too over the years, over various occasions, and conversations that he would think back to whenever he caught a glimpse of the green eyes that laid on his now.

Her mum, Barbara. Her younger brother, Antonio. Her best girlfriend from uni, Annabelle.

But her dad, Tony, was the most important for him to honor—considering he knew that he left the planet wanting Cassidy to be in the best hands; he had gotten confirmation from Harry in their last conversation that he would never let someone hurt her. And was loved, there was a guarantee that she would be loved and cherished until the end of time.

There were people in her life that had always looked at Harry as a guide, whether they meant anything by it, but they knew that Harry knew Cassidy better than anyone in the entire world. He had known every detail of her life for the twenty-some years that they had been the best of friends.

But it had always just been there– the best of friends. Saying anything different could change the whole dynamic of what that was.

“What is it? Why do you always do this to me?”

“Why do I always do this to you?” Harry questioned, setting Cassidy back a bit. She stared at him before she felt the way that their connection seemed to have a sense of distance between them. “Cassy, I thought we were going to have a weekend just the two of us. Just like we had been talking about—you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long, we haven’t spent any time together recently. You’re right—we’re thirty now. Life is going to change, but I wanted to have at least one more time where it would just be the two of us to spend laughing and making fun of people like Walton.”

Cassidy fought so hard to not smile at the name Harry gave her date, “Fuck off, you know it’s Dalton.”

“Cass, it doesn’t matter what his name is.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes, “What matters is that you always do this to me. You always insert this jackass as if to push him in my face and practically tease me with it. And what’s with all the jokes about me being exclusive?”

Cassidy feels her shoulders deflate, her eyes batting a few times before she shakes her head. “I just want you to find the right person, too, and maybe that would make you back from me and my choices just a bit. You think that I would treat a girl you dated like that? You think I would sit there and puff out my chest and try to make my boobs look bigger to make you look at me instead of her?”

Harry shrugs. “If you were jealous enough, I’d hope you would.” He goes to say something else but quickly shakes his head as if to not speak too much.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassidy tells him, her eyes giving a small up and down motion as she realizes how much space was between them now.

Harry stands up, his hands moving through his hair in a frustrated motion before he goes to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? Just because I’m the one with the artistic eye doesn’t mean that I’m the only one who can see art, Cass. You know when we go to the galleries in new cities we travel to, and I really make you look at them? You glance at them and are like, ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s pretty’. No, I really want you to look at it—and then sometimes it makes you emotional because you can really see the way that the artist has manipulated his wrists to make the kinds of strokes that the brushwork is, or the way that the divot in the sculpture is supposed to look like it’s a flaw, but it’s intentional? And that what you didn’t see before, because you were just glancing, is really there all the time?”

Cassidy looked at Harry who was standing in front of her, his eyebrows knit and his face practically begging for her to see him. He’s begging her to recognize this game that he had been playing wasn’t a game at all, it was just a matter of time. It was a matter of wanting her to see what they could be so that he didn’t have to spell it out.

He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to see it for herself. First and foremost, he wanted her to want it as much as he had.

“All I’m seeing is that you’re painting me out to be the bad guy here. All you do cycle through girls like a manic—you’re sleeping with one, you’re stringing one along. You think that’s supposed to entice me?” She asks quaintly, a bit quietly as she shakes her head, looking at Harry who seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he takes in a deep breath to try and get to a level of calmness that fits his demeaner.

“No, Cass! I just wanted you to see how in love with you I am!” The words that leave his mouth are practically begging, but they leave a sour silence in the room as Cassidy is taken by the tone Harry’s voice; his hands resting on his hips as he finishes the pacing he had been doing.

“Cassidy,” Harry swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in his throat, his voice practically faltering as he shook his head, trying so badly to get through to the words he had been looking for. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. They were never there to stay, okay? That’s why I didn’t look for exclusivity— it was never theirs. I was saving every ounce of my love and my time and my affection for you, and you never reached out to take any of it.”

Her silence hits her for a moment as she sits with her wine-stained dress in her lap on the white, linen sheets before she watches the man in front of her professing all the love and needs to her. She doesn’t feel like she can speak, but her eyes drift down to her lap as she feels all the sudden unable to find the words at all.

“Look—I’m sorry, I—I just can’t see you being with someone like this. And it physically hurts me to see you heartbroken when I know,” Harry pulls his lips into his mouth as he puts his hands on his hips, “I know that guy is going to fucking annihilate you. You’re going to fall in love with him, and he’s going to take it all and run with it. And there I’ll be, standing there, waiting for you to realize what’s been waiting for you this entire time. It’s just bound to happen.”

Cassidy sits with her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip as she feels the threatening of tears to spill from her eyes. She doesn’t understand the overwhelming feeling of the man’s words as she shakes her head, a sad chuckle leaving her throat as she looks up at him.

“He ordered me a pinot noir tonight,” She nods, “Told me that it was the best wine he’d ever had before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you exclusively drink Cab Sav from a box, no matter what, unless you’re celebrating something big, then it’s a discounted bottle of Dom Perignon from that Lombardi’s store down from your flat,” Harry tells her with a scoff, almost like it had been a test to prove that he knew her better than anyone in the world did.

And Cassidy knew that he did, but the validation that he showed only made her tear fall with the knowledge that he didn’t just listen—he remembered, he supplied this vision of her and this want for her that didn’t come with rules or expectations.

Harry just saw her.

And in a world where you want to be seen, Cassidy just fought to be glanced at. She fought for the spot in someone’s eye, but when she thought that Harry only had eyes for art, she couldn’t have imagined what he had seen in her this entire time.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Harry shook his head, looking at the ground as he started to feeling heaps of embarrassment but knowing that the awkward silence in the room was there to stay for a few more minutes at least. “I’d never order you a fucking pinot noir.”

Cassidy nods a few more times before she looks at the stains on the dress, knowing that it’s stained for good. That the stain stick won’t work anymore but knowing that it’s sometimes okay to have something marked, in the case that you wanted it to stick around forever.

Her heart felt like it had been borrowed and bruised but watching as Harry stared down at her only made it flutter as if trying to come back from the dead.

There were three things that Cassidy had been looking forward to this week—when she had originally booked the trip, that is.

One of them was to have a large glass of Cab Sav and sit on the balcony with Harry and laugh at the way that the people were pummeled by the waves; they always got too brave and then would be smashed down by the force of the water.

The second was to be able to dance. The dancing at the weddings always made her feel like she had been letting go of every ounce of worry and detrimental work email that she had received since the last time she was dancing at a wedding. It usually felt like a cleanse.

The third was to watch people fall in love. To watch people and see that their forever was right in front of their eyes and to confirm every moment of it with vows and unspeakable glances that felt like a bound contractual agreement.

As Cassidy stood in front of Harry now, her dress a mess of stain and wet, detergent marks, her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked up at him, with a different set of eyes, this time.

They were colored in a way that felt extraordinarily bright, like she had woken up from the darkest slumber. The mask of uncertainty was laying on the floor as she felt his hands lift her jaw to look at him, his feet taking a step forward.

“I think they say this at weddings,” He squinted at her, the line of a smirk coating his face as he kept his words quiet. Her hand moved up to hold his wrist as she bit on her lip softly, feeling the way that their lips tried to find one another—slow, encapsulated by an intense amount of tension, “’Speak now, or forever hold your peace’?”

The silence between them spoke for itself.

Harry pulled her forward, not rushed, but certainly not waiting a second longer. His lips attached to hers in a way that felt every single day of the last twenty years; the kiss that could have lasted the rest of his life without a doubt in his mind.

It was what was bound to happen all along; there just had to be a few frogs before the real prince revealed himself.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself, anyways. Cassidy would just roll her eyes, but knew that at the end of the day, it had always been him.

Exclusively him.

#harry styles x original character #harry writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluffy #harry styles au #harry styles #wattpadwriter #wattpad #harry wattpad #harry styles fanfic #ask #hs #harry styles fanfiction #anon ask #blurb writing #writing blurb #bound

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— TWO HEARTED

SUMMARY : playing pretend, doing risky things, improv, Valentine’s Day is more than “unattached drifter Christmas” now.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), tiny bit of trauma/PTSD thoughts, public sex, fingering, car sex, p in v, oral sex, cum play, breeding kink

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

A/N : i see stars song title. this fills the “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but goddamn look at you.” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. I really had fun with this one 😂 xxxxxx

Dean was on the hunt.

Not the typical monster hunt.

It was Valentine's Day, “unattached drifter Christmas,” as he jokingly told Sam a few times in the past. His mission tonight: pleasing the ladies who were out looking for a fun night. Or just one special lady. Whoever caught his eye, whoever was the most interesting to talk to, the most fun to be around. Someone as lonely as him, someone single, someone who would let him in for just one night.

Sure, maybe the suit he was wearing gave false pretences to the women he’d approach or the women who approached him. He knew the consequences of doing that, he could get robbed by the girl he’s with while he’s asleep, or maybe they’ll turn out to be Amazonian women who questionably get themselves pregnant without him knowing, and send their daughters to kill him… He’d rather forget that and the phobias that that made him start to have.

Still, he liked to have fun. And no one in the over-expensive bar knew how embarrassed he was to be so overdressed, but the scotch helped with making him feel a little more comfortable under the gaze of a few women who were instantly eyeing him, hoping he’d make a move.

The lights were white rather than yellow, somewhat bright, and the bartop where he’d ordered from was made of marble rather than wood. It was clean, there were no stains, no circular marks from the condensation of previous drinks left on the surface.

There were perks to these expensive places.

And there was already someone he had his eye on. Because she was funny without having to say a single word. It seemed she had other admirers as well. They sent her drinks and they’d smirk suggestively at her, and the bartender pointed to the man that ordered it for her. Even the bartender was amused. Every time she got a drink, she’d walk around, and hand the drink to the first woman that made her laugh. Each time it was a different woman and Dean only watched with a smirk on his face from the table in the far corner as the events unfolded.

The bright lights above where she sat atop a bar stool made her look celestial. Her hair shimmering brightly, hanging loosely over her shoulders, framing her face gorgeously. Her lucious, kissable lips were as red as raspberries, and the colour of her almond-shaped nails matched both the silk dress with a slit going up to her thigh, and her heels. Her skin looked perfect to kiss, perfect to touch, to bite, and mark. Her smooth, mouthwatering legs were crossed. He’s never paid attention to a woman’s shoes, but either her blood red heels made her look hotter, or she made those red heels look sexier.

Whichever was the case, Dean couldn’t stop picturing lifting her up, and having her legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked her. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like for her nails to scratch down his skin. Or what it would look like to have her red lips wrapped around his cock, leaving red kiss marks on his skin, her lipstick smeared across his lips.

Dean finally stood up and made his way to her. She was talking to—and laughing with—the bartender and one of the women she’d handed her drink to. His stomach knotted up as he got closer, his heart pounded in his chest, something he didn’t often feel when he was approaching someone he wanted.

She was way out of his league.

He had the intention of getting her attention, by extending a small, flirtatious greeting, but his mouth opened up, and nothing came out. His throat clamped up as he eyed her elegant hand playing with a napkin that had her lip stains, and he whimpered instead. She turned around to look at him with a polite smile on her face. Dean only smiled bashfully at her, choosing to order rather than making a bigger fool of himself until he regained the courage to finally talk to her.

“Uh, whiskey,” Dean smiled at the bartender when he came up to ask what he wanted. The mystery woman got along with the bartender because he was married, and the woman that she’d befriended so quickly was genuinely kind and funny. Dean was about to talk to her once more, but the bartender slid the glass of whiskey towards him, so he shut up once more.

He felt too observed. Too tense and anxious to formulate words.

But after about fifteen minutes, the mystery-girl's friend went to go pee and the bartender went off to start making drinks for a group of women that just got there. Dean finally relaxed and then he turned to her, momentarily admiring the side of her gorgeous face.

He didn’t know if it was just him or if there was actually some tension between them. She turned to look at him with a tiny smile, soft locks of her hair fell over her eyes, and Dean’s breath stopped.

Dean had barely collected himself when he smiled at her and said, “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but goddamn… look at you.” Dean was beyond mortified, an intense, fiery blush matching the redness of her lips erupted up his neck like a flare from the Sun.

She laughed softly as Dean stumbled for an excuse or an apology. “Does that usually work on women?” She asked, turning her body to face him, her eyes sparkling with joy and laughter. When she tilted her head, her hair moved with her, falling over shoulders breathtakingly. Dean was mesmerised, but her kindness made him feel at peace, if only a little.

Dean cleared his throat, willed himself to stop flailing by taking hold of his glass, his shoulders dropping humbly, “sorry, I’m a bit rusty.”

“Me too,” she admitted, biting her lip. White teeth sank into red and Dean gulped, trying to swallow down the anxiety that made his heart thunder.

“Seems like you don’t really have to try,” he reassured her, turning his body to face her as she’d done so. She looked away thoughtfully, and placed her arms under her breasts, lifting them up slightly. Dean forced himself to look away from them, and raised the glass to his lips, tracing the tiny chain resting over her collarbones with a tiny charm hanging from the centre.

“I’m too picky for my own good, I guess,” she sighed, playing with her lipstick-stained napkin. Dean inhaled, held his breath as he thought of what to say, then he exhaled a little laugh.

“Can I order you a drink anyway?” He asked lamley, licking his lips slowly, seductively. She dropped her gaze down to his tongue and she smiled.

“Sure,” she shrugged, sliding her arm out from beneath her breasts, much to Dean’s dismay. “Where were you sitting before?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. Everything she did captivated Dean, but he forced his eyes away from her face, and followed her gaze.

“Table by the weird painting.” Dean pointed towards where he was sitting before joining her.

She hummed softly, then faced him again. “Wanna sit back there with me?”

Dean struggled to respond to such a simple question, but he nodded at her instead of opening his mouth, and making a bigger fool of himself. Thankfully, the bartender returned when mystery-woman locked eyes with him from a distance. It was then that Dean remembered he didn’t know her name.

The bartender smiled at her, then peered curiously at Dean. “Uh, I don’t know his name,” she laughs while looking into Dean’s daydreaming eyes, “but he’s gonna order me a drink.” It’s like the two of them have an inside joke, because the bartender snorts, and she’s grinning at him like she just caught the mouse she’d be toying with.

“What’ll it be, then?” The bartender asked Dean, smiling mildly. Dean thought for a while, he gazed at her: the cherry colour of her lips that hadn’t faded despite the deep colour on the napkin, the pinkish blush on her cheeks, the sexy scarlet of her nails, the soft rose dress slipping over her body, and the matching red heels.

“Raspberry martini.” The bartender nodded and turned away with his lips stretched into a gentle smile. “I’m Dean,” he told her to fill the silence. She moaned, low, and he knew she hadn’t meant it to be lewd, but that’s exactly how it felt with a jolt of arousal to his cock.

She gave him her name and the bartender returned with the raspberry martini, slowly sliding it to her with his eyes on Dean. Approval made the bartender step away with a smile, and Dean finally relaxed slightly, letting his gaze drift to her once more. She hummed softly at the drink, curled her fingers gracefully around the glass, and took a sip—enough to savour it properly.

After letting it settle in her taste buds, she pulled the steel pick holding three raspberries. The sweet alcohol dripped down her pretty fingers and Dean’s mouth went dry, but when she wrapped her lips around the first berry, Dean’s mouth watered. He shifted his leg a little, trying to get rid of the tight feeling around his crotch, and realised how hard he was as his sensitive cock pressed against the thin material of his slacks.

“Okay,” she said after chewing and returning the pin into the martini, “let’s go.” Dean blinked at her dumbly.

“Go?” He blushed, leaning forward a little.

“To the table,” she chuckled, hopping down from the stool. Dean cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment for how eager he sounded. She didn’t seem to mind as she cupped her drink again, glancing down shamelessly at the small tent in his dress pants.

“Fuck,” Dean shuddered, drawing her gaze up to his. He observed her for a few seconds as he slid off the stool, staring down at her. Her nipples were pinched tight and poking through the thin cloth of her dress, her pupils dilated and pushed against the colour of her irises, she breathed unevenly, and was tightening her grip around the glass.

Dean carefully took her waist and pulled her close, her gasp only made him hornier. Dean leaned down to her ear, his stomach fluttering when she leaned into him. He slid his hand down lower to squeeze her ass, then slid his hand back up the silky dress to hold her waist, and rubbed the silky material between his rough fingers, pulling away just to watch her.

Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were a darker shade of rose.

“Careful,” Dean murmured, pulling away to guide her towards the table that he’d sat in earlier. She nodded, carefully sipped on her drink, and he smiled when he gazed down at her.

When they sat, she took the seat with the wall behind her, and he moved his chair to sit closer to her. He watched her closely, and she did the same to him, pushing the berries around inside the martini glass.

“Hard limits?” He asked, gently bringing his fingertips to her knee—the one exposed by the long slit. He felt her move her leg closer to his hand, so he rested it flat on her soft, warm skin, slowly sliding up the inside.

“Haven’t found any, yet,” she whispered, taking his wrist in her hand. Dean couldn’t help flinching, but he relaxed when she began to guide it up faster, higher between her legs. “At least none that apply to you,” she purred, allowing him to cup her pussy.

Dean could feel how warm and wet she was beneath the lace of her underwear and he moaned. She took the martini and took another sip, trying to act normal while he placed his hand inside her underwear, two fingers separating her drenched folds. He flicked her clit with his middle finger and played with the wetness that resided on her pussy.

“Did you come here for a good time with the ladies or to go back home with a guy?” Dean asked gruffly, watching her try not to squirm with a smirk on his face. He wished he could touch himself, or get her to touch him, but for now, he pushed his finger into her warm, fluttering walls.

“Mostly the first thing,” she murmured, spreading her legs for his hand to fit, “but then I saw you and I changed my mind.” Dean laughed, pressing his palm against her clit, slowly starting to pump his finger in and out of her.

“So, love at first sight it is,” he joked, moving his hand faster. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into her shoulder to hide her face from everyone else. She bit her lip and moaned softly, her cunt soaking his hand.

“Love? Too early to tell,” she teased. She offered him her last raspberry and he let her feed it to him. His mouth watered chewing on the partially sour fruit and he stared at her as she drank the rest of the martini, licking away some of the remaining salt around the rim.

“All I can think about is how good you’re going to taste,” Dean purred seductively, grinding his palm against her swollen clit. She grinned mischievously. “Wanna see my car?” He asked, pulling his finger from her warmth to massage around her clit.

As soon as they exited the bar, Dean wrapped his arms around her from behind, chuckling against the skin of her neck. He kissed her softly, inhaling the expensive perfume on her skin, as he manoeuvred her across the parking lot to get to his car.

She giggled and squirmed, moaning softly when he sucked at her pulse, and dragged his tongue upwards to her earlobe. His hands groped her body, grabbed her hips, squeezed her ample breasts, his fingers teasingly rubbing her nipples over the dress until they were pinched tight underneath.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” Dean murmured, his cock twitching when she cursed softly under her breath.

She turned around in his arms, teasingly bringing him down while walking backwards as carefully as she could. Dean held his breath, baited by her warm breath against his lips, only for her to move away, and lick his cheekbone.

Dean laughed loudly, and his hands slipped down to squeeze her ass, grinding his hard cock against her stomach. “How far is your car?” She whined, sneaking her hand down between their bodies to stroke his cock over his pants. Dean gasped, his hips thrusting into her hand, and grunted softly when she squeezed.

“Here,” he panted, pushing her up against cold, black metal. She turned back to admire the shiny car, the sleek, elegant lines of it while he trailed his mouth across her clavicle. He cupped her warm breasts in his bigger hands, ghosting his lips and scruffy chin along her cleavage until she shivered, and turned back to him.

She took his jaw in her hands, and moved his face up to hers. Finally, red lips pressed against his and made him breathless. He stood at his normal height, forcing her to tilt her head back, his fingers digging into her sides. He licked into her mouth, tasting sweet, salty berries and alcohol with a moan. She met his warm tongue in a dirty frenzy of passion and her lipstick smeared across his pillowy lips.

She lifted her leg up his thigh, and even over layers, it sent an erotic tingle along his leg that moved up to his swollen cock. His dick moved beneath his boxers for attention. He instantly took her soft thigh, sliding his hand up her hot skin and inside the slit, lifting her up until she stood on her toes to grind his aching cock against her core.

“Please, fuck me, Dean,” she whispered against his lips. With every word, her lips brushed against his, sending a spark of arousal across his entire body, making his muscles twitch and tingle. To his surprise, she crumpled the dress up to her waist, revealing red-lace panties. But she kept pulling it up, and his hands enchantedly followed the exposed warm skin until she got the dress off herself completely, standing bare before him in the parking lot.

“God, you are so hot, baby,” he murmured, taking the dress from her. He unlocked the door clumsily, lowering his mouth to her exposed breasts, relishing in her moans when he sucked on her nipples. She began grinding against his thigh and he moaned in approval. One of her hands held the back of his neck, keeping his mouth close to her chest, and the other rubbed his throbbing cock. He pulled away from one nipple to wrap his warm mouth around the other one, leaving it as wet and hard as the other.

Dean pulled her away from the door and opened it for her. She sighed shakily, shuddering in the cool air, and slipped inside wordlessly, facing him as he shoved his suit jacket off his shoulders. He ducked his head inside, and threw the keys, his jacket, and her dress into the front seat.

“I like your car, it’s somehow… almost as hot as you are,” she breathed, watching him climb inside after her, loosening his red tie, and shut the door behind him. She scooted up, but he gripped her thighs with a deep chuckle that made her squeeze her legs together.

“Thanks,” Dean murmured, “it looks better in here with you naked.” She smiled bashfully and laid back against the door silently, gazing at Dean who kissed her ankles, his warm lips moving up her calves. Her legs fell open as he moved higher, his eyes glued to her shimmering folds behind the red lace. Dean lunged forward, and pressed a kiss to her clit over her underwear, and teasingly traced the bottom of her underwear, tugging the ruined lace away from her soppy folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Dean groaned, his fingers grazing her warm slick, “I can’t wait to sink my cock into your pretty little pussy.” She moaned softly, cupping her breasts as she ground against his tantalising mouth. He pulled her underwear to the side and swirled his tongue around her entrance, moaning at the taste of her. His mouth watered instantly and he flattened his tongue up between her pussy lips to tease her clit.

“Holy fuck, Dean,” she gasped. She buried her fingers into his hair and wiggled her hips impatiently. Dean laughed against her and she whined when he pulled away.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he ordered, then plunged a finger into her dripping hole. She gasped, her cheeks red, watching him undo his belt with his other hand. She folded, and did as he asked, moving forward to bring her swollen clit against his palm, holding onto the seat to lift herself up and down on his finger. He curled it against her walls just right, pulled his belt out of the loops, and burrowed a second finger into the warm wetness between her legs.

Dean took her hip and brought her closer so he’s the one leaning against the door of his car. He worked her open with two thick fingers and she placed her hands on his chest, clutching his vest, spreading her legs wider for him. She moaned his name, and dropped her face into his neck, trembling as she lifted her hips up and down on his hand.

“Good girl, keep going,” Dean praised, feeling more of her arousal against his fingers, dripping down his hand. He felt her tighten around his fingers and she got breathier, sucking a mark in his neck as she rolled her hip against his palm. Dean pulled his fingers out of her and she pulled away to narrow her eyes at him.

“Why are you still dressed?” She panted, unbuttoning his vest to distract herself from the need to come. Dean stared at her lips hungrily, and forced his eyes up to hers to suck her juices from his fingers. “You got what you wanted, a taste of me,” she teased, then bit her lip, starting on the buttons of his white dress shirt as he slipped his fingers out of his mouth. “What do I get?”

“Did you know that every time your lips move, I picture them wrapped around my cock?” Dean trailed his fingers up her sides, and she halted, blinking at him with amusement. She sank her teeth in her plump lip, and giggled, finishing with the last button on his shirt.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then, pretty boy,” she smirked flirtatiously, tugging his shirts out from under his pants. She dropped a quick kiss on his forehead, which made Dean pout, but she shoved the white t-shirt up his chest, and began to kiss his chest.

She swirled her tongue around his nipples and Dean groaned, watching her swing her hair to the side as she kissed hard at his freckled skin. Her soft tongue lapped at his flesh, sucking marks on his twitching muscles, scraping her teeth down lower and lower.

Her red nails followed, sparking arousal as they brushed along his nipples, hooking onto his pants, popping the button out of the slit, zipping them down slowly. Dean bit his lip and lifted his hips up, allowing her to tug his slacks and boxers down his hips and thighs. Her hair tickled his skin and he shivered. She marked his hip bones with hickies, his pelvis, the v-mark leading to his cock. She stopped kissing him until his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach—red, leaking, and throbbing for release.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she whispered.

She wrapped her red lips around the head of his cock and sucked without warning. Dean moaned loudly and choked on a gasp, clutching the leather seat as she gently stroked the rest of his cock. Her tongue moved along his glans and Dean whined, a shudder of pleasure shaking his body. She took him deeper and sucked harder, and then she nearly swallowed his cock whole. Dean choked on a loud, lustful moan, his hips bucking upwards into her hot and wet mouth.

Her red lips slid up and down his cock, leaving him slick with warm saliva, and Dean thought he might just cum at the sight of her. She moaned around him, the sound vibrated through him, blood rushed all over his body, making him hot and desperate.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and she reached in between his legs to fondle his balls. Dean nearly jammed his cock into her mouth and she whined, her jaw coming loose. Dean shoved her head all the way down anyway, and her nose pressed against the patch of thick, coarse hair.

Dean’s balls drew in and his body became tense, he expected his climax to ripple through his body, but she slurped up his cock, spit and precum connecting the head of his dick to her pretty lips. “God, fuck!” Dean grunted, his orgasm slowly and painfully evaporating.

“Dean,” she murmured, tugging his pants lower with his help. She straddled his legs, and leaned down to press tender kisses to his neck, biting at the stubble there, before tugging his ears with her teeth.

“Do you like these?” He murmured, pulling her panties to the side to slide his swollen cock through her slick cunt. She released a breathy moan, and began to roll her hips against his throbbing dick, coating him with her slick while his precum rubbed through her a slit.

“Yes,” she pouted, then smirked when he groaned in irritation, his eyes rolling back. She moved away from him, and quickly discarded her panties, before inching closer to him. “You collect underwear?” She mocked, dangling her ruined, red lace intimates in front of him.

Dean snatched them from her with a sarcastic laugh, then he turned serious. “No, but I can collect yours if we do this often,” he grinned mischievously, shoving her underwear into the pocket of his vest.

She bit her lip and hovered over his cock, hooking her thumbs under the shirt to keep it up on his chest. She looked at Dean expectantly and he snorted. She didn't have to say a word. Dean lifted his hips, and in a sharp thrust, he entered her delightfully wet and warm walls.

She let out a surprised cry of pleasure and ground down against him. He could feel her walls clench and unclench around him, then he lowered his hips, keeping her hovered so only the tip remained inside her, teasing his frenulum. Dean’s fingers dug into her hips and he slammed her over his throbbing erection, enjoying the sensation of her slick insides as he filled her up once more.

Wet and obscene sounds filled the small space every time he pounded his hips up into her and she ground down on him to create friction on her clit. Dean had a thousand dirty things to say to drive her crazy, but as the car shook with their efforts, the words got jumbled up in his brain, spilling out like water in a glass during an earthquake.

All he could do was moan with her, desperate, clinging to her so tightly all he could feel was her all around him. She lowered one leg to the floor of the car, opening herself more to him so that Dean’s cock slipped inside her fully, aching to touch every part deep inside her. He felt whole, warm, tingly, enraptured.

“Please,” she panted, “come inside me, Dean. Fill me up.” With a long, deep groan of her name, Dean’s hot cum spilled inside her, and her vagina squeezed him tight, her own sticky release coating his throbbing cock. She gasped and dropped her forehead to his cheek bone, chanting his name quietly, riding each other through their orgasms, meeting his every thrust.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a warm embrace as the thrust of his hips came to a slow stop, with both of them heaving. She finally relaxed in his arms, but lifted her face to breath exotically against his lips, a smug smile on her red lips.

“How was that, sweetheart?” Dean asked fondly, moving away stray strands of her hair before bringing her down for a kiss. She moaned softly against the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, before lifting herself up so he slid out of her. Dean could faintly feel their release dripping over his cock and thighs, but the gentle scrape of her cherry-red nails down his chest took his mind off it.

“So goddamn good, baby,” she praised him softly when she pulled away. She gave him a short kiss and sat on his tummy, a mixture of their fluids spilled from inside her, and pooled over his navel.

Dean reached down to play with the puddle of their release, then he thrusted his finger up into her—slick and all. Dean smirked when she groaned, but lowered his gaze to stare at her tits as she attempted to catch her breath.

She moved away from him, ignoring his pout, and his shameless, salacious stare. She leaned over the front seat to pick her dress up from the front seat, giving Dean a full view of her glistening vulva and the mixture of their spendings dripping out of her.

“What if I get you pregnant?” Dean bit his lip, struggling to pull his boxers over his wet cock—trousers bunched with underwear. She sat with her dress in her hands, her eyes glazing as she daydreamed. Dean remained quiet with her, focusing on getting his clothes back on in the tight space of his car. He pulled his pants up his legs, lifting his hips to zip them back up. “Funny story to tell the kids,” he grinned, but beneath his amusement, there was a little bit of hope and tenderness. “Here,” Dean pulled her underwear from the small pocket of his vest and handed them over to her.

“Thanks,” she smiled, watching him button his shirts up. She stood as best as she could without hitting her head on the roof of the car, turning around, and shaking her ass a little. Dean stared at her jiggling ass with a smile. His green eyes flickered up to hers when she turned to face him with a grin after pulling her soiled panties up legs, keeping their cum inside her.

“This would be a funny story,” she agreed with a laugh, making Dean smile. She found her place back in his arms, resting her head on his chest. Dean rubbed her back soothingly and closed his eyes, humming softly when she began tracing random shapes on his chest. “I love you, so much,” she mumbled, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling the scent of him.

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

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whiskeyghoul · 4 months

Text

Green green dress || [Spencer Reid x F!Reader] Pt.1

A/N: watched tick tick boom again and this song has been stuck on repeat in my mind so please enjoy the ramblings of a woman possessed.

Read pt.2 here

Tags: Established relationship, female reader, no y/n, fluff, mentions of smut? more like alluding to smut, BAU reader, tick tick boom reference. MDNI.

Wordcount: 1.4K

Your hands smoothed over the non existent wrinkles of your dress. Dark, emerald green and velvet. It hugged every curve of your body just right, complimenting your natural shape so well. Emily, JJ, and Penelope had convinced you to buy it on one of the few girls days you had together. One where dress shopping was necessary for your evening out in a bar. It had been a risky pick, different from your usual attire and the plunging neckline was something you hadn’t dared to wear before. It was just a bit too out there to be worn casually, so it had hung in your closet, waiting for the perfect opportunity to wear it.

What better opportunity than an end of year party at the Rossi house hold? Where the Christmas lights would still be up, creating the perfect ambiance with the soft music that carried throughout the house. The decadent food, expensive wine, and the perfect atmosphere. With Spencer as your date you were more than excited for the evening.

You picked up the dark plum lipstick that sat on the vanity with your other makeup, applying a quick swipe to your lips and pressing them together. “Are you almost ready?” Spencer called from down the hall. You could hear his footsteps move closer to your shared bedroom in his apartment. He’d given you the space to get ready while he sat and read one of his many books. “Almost, love.” You called back, placing the lipstick back down and fussing with your hair a bit. Trying to get it to fall just right. Perfectly effortless wasn’t as effortless as you had hoped. The door creaked open, Spencer walking in and stopping in his tracks in the door opening.

You turned your head, looking at Spencer who stood frozen in place, hands stilled as he had been fixing his tie. His eyes focussed on you, almost entranced as he took you in. “Spence?” You asked, wondering if you had perhaps gone too out there. Like you had overdressed for some reason. You didn’t think you had. Now, a bit unsure of yourself, you got out of your chair, walking a bit closer. “Wow…” Spencer breathed out. Relief washed over you. “You had me worried for a second.” You admitted, a nervous smile playing on your lips. “Worried? You look stunning. I think you literally took my breath away just now.” Spencer rambled as he finally found his voice again. Eyes lingering on your body, taking you in as you move closer to him. His hands reach out, pulling you towards him by the waist. “I thought I overdressed.” You added, hands landing on his chest and smoothing over his suit jacket until you laced your fingers behind his neck. The hairs in his nape brushing against your skin.

Spencer seemed to think for a moment, “Maybe you did, I think we should just stay home. It would be embarrassing to outshine everyone.” He stated, pulling your body against his. Seemingly completely enthralled by your look. A small laugh escaped you. The underlying motive to his words was clear enough. He’d rather forgo the party if it meant he could be the one taking off your dress right now. “Oh no, I did not take all that time to get ready to not be seen.” You scolded gently, playfully even. “I see you.” Spencer quickly retorted. He leaned in, quickly capturing your lips with his own to stifle any protest you would throw at him. You melted into the kiss, tightening your hands to hold Spencer closer. His hands tightened in the fabric of your dress, causing it to rise slightly exposing more of your stockings.

You pulled away slightly from the kiss, hands moving down to cover Spencer’s. “We’re going to be late.” You whispered, lips ghosting over his lips. He breathed out through his nose, his grip loosening on your dress. “Let's be late for once.” He whispered. His eyes were filled with lust as he looked at you. You trailed your right hand up his arm, to finally reach his face, gently swiping your thumb over his lips to remove the lipstick you had left behind. His lips parted slightly, almost involuntarily before he kissed the pad of your thumb. His eyes are big, looking at you pleadingly. “Please?” he said. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he sounded so sweet. You’d give him anything he wanted if you could.

“I’ll do anything you want when we come home. We can’t miss this one, everyone will be there.” You said, not wanting to give in to his every whim. It was going to be a special evening after all. You didn’t want to miss it. You didn’t want to miss Rossi’s cooking if you were really honest. “Anything?” Spencer raised his brows slightly, you knew there were millions of things running through his head at that moment. “Anything.” You repeated with a grin. He released your dress, seemingly content with your promise of anything he’d desire, just later in the evening.

You quickly leaned up, pecking his lips in a quick kiss. Leaving another dusting of plum lipstick on his lips. “Let’s go, before we’re too late.” you added, turning away from Spencer and leaving the bedroom. His footsteps followed you to the front door, where your heels had been parked and waiting for you. Quickly sliding them on with practiced ease. Spencer held out your coat, ready to slide it on for you like he often does. “I still think we should stay home.” Spencer commented as you moved your arms into the jacket sleeves. He pulled it over your shoulders as you laughed in response to his comment. “We’ll stay home all day tomorrow too. So please, let’s have this dinner.” You said as you took his hand, lacing your fingers together, leading him out the front door and to his car.

Arriving at David’s house went smoothly, you were a bit later than you hoped and saw the multitude of cars already parked in the driveway to the house. Lights lined either way of the walkway up to the house where the deck was lit up with twice as many lights as usual. The smell of pork and greens wafted from the house signaling dinner was being made. You walked up with Spencer, his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the front door. Before you could even knock the door swung open with David in the opening, welcoming and ushering you inside. “Sorry we’re late.” You apologized, it was only 10 minutes after the agreed upon time but you still felt slightly bad. “Don’t sweat it, I’m sure you had to take some time to get ready. Would you like something to drink?” David immediately offered, guiding you to the living room after you hung your coats away.

Spencer’s hand was back on your waist, holding you closer to him as you walked. It was different. Yes he was often quite touchy with you but this was an unusual amount of affection. The chatter from your colleagues came from the living room, the lights were dimmed to enhance the cozy atmosphere. The two of you entered the room, the warmth inside put a blush on your face. “Finally you’re here!” Penelope exclaimed from her spot next to Derek, getting up and pulling you in for a hug. “You say it like we made you wait an hour.” Spencer chuckled before greeting the others. “It felt like it.” Penelope chided before she finally let you go. “Look at you, in the dress and everything! Gorgeous!" She complimented and took a step back. “You too, Pen. Gorgeous like always.” you smiled as you looked at the quintessential Penelope outfit but dialed up to 11.

David handed you a glass of red wine while informing everyone of how long the wait would be for dinner to be served. Pulled along with Penelope she seated you between her and Emily. Spencer sitting next to Derek, just out of reach from where you’d rather have him. You caught his look at you, the way his eyes flicked down to your legs as you sat down, dress riding up ever so slightly.

For someone surrounded by profilers he really didn’t try to hide what he was thinking about.

End note: I am working on pt.2 and is already over the length of pt.1 and I haven't even gotten to the good part yet. send help.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #Spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #wip #part 1 #mdni #tick tick boom #green green dress

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stevenssacrab · 5 months

Text

Before The Party

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Just before the party, you question your outfit choice; Steve shows you how beautiful you are.

Rating: 18+ (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: lighting grinding, kissing, horny Steve lol, insecure reader, Steve being the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I love Steve so much, the sweetest of man I swear, also I wrote the sexier parts to After Last Night by Bruno Mars, let me tell ya, perfect song for the occasion hahah

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Today was the annual Christmas party at Stark Tower. You usually dreaded going to these, but you have someone to go with this year. This year, you decided to go a little sexier; you're wearing a floor-length burgundy dress, off the shoulders, with an A-line silhouette with a high slit stopping just below the hip bone, accompanied with a silver heel with rhinestone embellished straps. For jewelry, you went with a simple 18K white gold pendant, and of course, the hair, Hollywood waves with a crystal hairpin tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I hope I'm not overdressed," you said to yourself, suddenly insecure in your outfit choice; you shook your head as if shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, "No, I look good, right?" you ask aloud, raking your eyes over the ensemble, questioning every choice you've made up to this point.

"Baby, have you seen my shoes?" Steve called, walking into the room, too concerned with his outfit to notice yours, but only for a moment.

"Hey, do I look okay?" Steve finally lifts his head, laying eyes on you for the first time. He had been with you throughout the whole process of picking out everything, but this was his first time seeing it all together. He was rendered speechless; all the words in the world couldn't describe how elegant and stunning you looked, the dress hugging all your curves perfectly, accentuating every mound and hill that was you, and don't get him started on the slit, highlighting your long legs, making your legs never-ending, Steve, staring like a starved man, eager to kiss up your legs, worshipping and memorizing every beauty mark and scar on your body.

"Steve, do I look okay?" you whimpered, a hint of sadness lingering in your voice; you turned to Steve, with tears welling up in your eyes, having convinced yourself that you looked horrible.

"Okay?" he asked, walking around your shared bed, slowly sweeping his eyes over your entire body.

"I look bad, don't I? Ugh, I knew the dress was a bad idea; maybe I shouldn't go tonight," you admit sadly, moving to sit on the bed; you slip your shoes off; you want to curl up and hide.

"No baby, not at all," Steve says wholeheartedly; he grabs one heel and gently slips your foot back into it; he buckles the strap by your ankle and brings your leg up to his mouth, slowly kissing up your leg.

"You look amazing," one kiss, "beautiful," another kiss, "ethereal," another kiss. You blush deeply and giggle with every kiss Steve lays on your leg.

"Steve," you whine, wiping your eyes away and pull him up for a passionate kiss filled with every ounce of love you felt for this man. Steve climbs on top of you, trapping you under his broad body, sliding his body in between your legs, fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces; you let out a breathy moan, grinding your hips up into Steve, desperate for friction. Steve swallows every moan he earns from you.

"Steve," you whimpered, gripping his arms tightly. "Steve, we're gonna be late," you say, grinding into him despite your protests.

"Let's skip it," he groans, moving his lips to your neck and sucking gently, meeting every buck of your hips perfectly, drawing a whine from you.

"We can't, Tony. Will never let us live it down," you sigh. Steve groans loudly and climbs off you, extending his hand out to help you sit up.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," he laughs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit; he kneels in front of you and helps you put on your other heel, kissing up your legs like before.

"How do I look?" Steve asked; he was dressed in a light grey suit that complimented his blue eyes, accentuating his broad shoulders wonderfully; you ran your hands up his arm and past his shoulders, tip-toeing up to kiss him sweetly.

"Ravishing, my love," you utter in between kisses. Steve smiles into the kiss and rests his hand on the small of your back, pulling you into a deeper kiss; you break the kiss slowly, fluttering your eyes open.

"Ready to go?" you asked, scanning him over, laughing at his feet; he still doesn't have his shoes on.

"On the bed," you say confidently, Steve laughs.

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes playfully, watching you as you slowly kneel in front of him. "Now that's what I'm talking about," he says, smiling coyly; you smack his leg light-heartedly, grinning from ear to ear.

"The shoes," you say plainly, holding out your hand. Steve places the shoes in your hand, and you slowly slide his foot into each shoe; you gently pat his feet when you're finished.

"Let's go," you say happily, hooking your arm with Steve. The car ride to the tower was smooth and uneventful; Steve rested his hand on your thigh, drawing random patterns the whole way.

"We're here," Steve says and quickly hops out of the car, lightly jogging over to your side, opening the door for you, and offering his hand to assist you; you smile shyly and the gentlemanly gesture; Steve was always so chivalrous, never missing an opportunity to make you feel like a princess. Steve hands the keys over to the chauffeur and holds his arm out for you to rest your arm; you smile at Steve and stride forward, heels satisfyingly clapping against the tile. You smile up at Steve for the umpteenth time tonight while waiting for your elevator. The elevator arrives with a ding, and you step in, checking yourself one last time in the reflection; the doors open, and you meet with an array of fellow Avengers dressed to the nines, everyone smiling and drinking carelessly, soft Christmas music played by the live band filled your ears, you gently squeeze Steve's arm nervously, Steve returns a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

"We got this," Steve says with a nod; when you step through the threshold, your eyes meet with Wanda and Natasha; smiling brightly at them, they look at you with their mouths hanging open. "You look hot," Wanda mouths from across the room; you laugh, throwing your head back. Steve laughs and lets go of your arm to let you go to the girls; you give Steve one last look before excitedly walking over to them, and you're met with excited squeals and hugs.

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allyeardepression · 2 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic | feb 29 address | words 1881

hi, so this one is so fucking long, i don’t even know how it happened. anyways, hope you’ll enjoy it :3

first part | previous part

Reg

Will you be there tonight?

James looked at the message he received almost half an hour ago and for the hundredth time deleted his response.

‘Of course I’ll be there’ sounded too eager. ‘Yeah’ was out of question with it being too dry. ‘I’ll try to make it’ was just mean, like when you have a big event at school and your parents say that exact line, and you just feel like shit. So he sat there, on his couch, contemplating how to answer the man he apparently fancies. He thought the crush went away with them going separate ways after school, but oh well. With just one dinner, all the feelings came back, making him feel like a teenager again.

He deleted another answer when Regulus texted him again.

Reg

You know I can see you typing then changing your mind over and over again, right?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was his chance to keep this from getting any weirder.

James

yeah i know sorry about that

and answering the first question yes ill be there

With that, he threw his phone as far away from himself as he could and went to have a crisis while taking a shower. And don’t get him wrong - he really wanted to be there, to see the art Regulus makes, but at the same time he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He liked Reg, he wanted to get to know him again after all those years they haven’t talked. And yet, he was still afraid he would fuck it up somehow.

“No you won’t” he said to his reflection in the mirror. “You won’t, just pull yourself together. And don’t act weird, just… be who you are. If he doesn’t like it, back off.”

After that little motivational talk, James started to get ready properly. He did his skincare routine, tried to (and failed) tame the nest on his head, also known as hair, and went to the closet to find something suitable for the occasion. How does one even dress for opening?

Having no better option, James decided to do the most stupid thing he could do.

“What are you wearing tonight?” he asked without any greeting. On the other side he heard the most feral laughter ever and just groaned at it. “It’s not funny, I really don’t know!” the laughter became even more hysterical, so James just stood in the middle of his closet, waiting for Sirius to calm down.

“Oh god, this is too good” his best friend chuckled a little breathlessly. “Are you trying to impress my brother or what?”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone, I just… what should I wear? To not look like an idiot?” more giggles from Sirius.

“Yeah, well, me and Moony are going in our usual clothes, so maybe something in between?”

“You mean I should go as a slutty grandpa?” James grumbled. His bestie just barked another laugh at that.

“Yes, exactly! Hope I helped, gotta go, see you there” and the call ended.

It actually did help, to his surprise. He put on a maroon turtleneck, paired it with suit trousers and his favourite red converse. The entire outfit, although simple, seemed to emphasise his muscles, giving the exact result James was aiming for. He put three golden hoops in his ear and finally felt ready.

Grabbing the phone from the armchair it landed on, James check if Regulus sent any new messages - he did.

Reg

I’m glad.

Don’t overdress, it’s a casual event, nothing fancy.

Do you know where to go?

Should I send you the address?

Hello?

Are you alive?

James, it’s been more than an hour, are you alright?

James smiled at all of this, quickly replying with ‘yes everythings good the shower took longer than it should pls send the address’.

***

He arrived at a small local art gallery, where the opening took place. As soon as James got out of his car, Remus and Sirius spotted him, practically running in his direction. The shorter man, dressed in a silk shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and tight jeans (all black, of course), jumped into his arms, screaming excitedly, like he hasn’t seen him in a while (since yesterday). From behind, Sirius’ fiancé rolled his eyes, smirking at their antics.

“Fancy seeing you here, Prongs” Remus said cheekily, when the long-haired man came to his side. It was James’ turn to roll his eyes.

“Are we coming in or are we just gonna stand here and freeze?” Sirius asked, snuggling closer to Remus.

“You should’ve dressed accordingly to the weather. I’m feeling petty so - Moony, would you mind giving me a fag?” James chirped sweetly, batting his lashes at the taller man.

He didn’t give him the cigarette, what’s with his shivering partner, so they just walked in to the gallery.

James spotted Regulus immediately. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a white collar sticking out from under it, black trousers and low Docs. He looked innocent and hot at the same time. He could see the younger man noticing him, too, when his lips turned into a little smile.

“Hi, Little Star” Reg snorted at that, and that was all he had to do to get himself a wide grin from James.

“Hello, James. Thank you for coming” came the slightly amused answer. They scanned each other for a second. From up close Regulus looked even better, James thought.

“You look good, I mean, like, very good” Reg chuckled softly at that and the other man melted a little.

“You look good, too” younger man replied, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

Their moment was interrupted by Sirius barging in, saying how proud of his little brother he is, while ruffling Reg’s hair. Even though he didn’t like it, Regulus hasn’t voiced his displeasure. It was nice of him, really.

Not long after, some professor welcomed everyone from the middle of the room, talking about all the hard work his students put into this exhibition and how glad he was to see so many people coming to appreciate that work. Some ovations. Then they were free to admire the pieces. Most of them were paintings, but there were also sculptures and some photographs.

The theme of the exhibition was ‘love’, so the students presented how they perceived it - some in a cute way, whit elderly couples sitting on a bench or some places they loved, but there were also darker ones, presenting the topic as suffocating or painful. James felt sorry for all those people who suffered because of something that should have been beautiful.

When they finally reached Regulus’ pieces James felt something warm crawling inside his chest. He didn’t immediately understand them, since Reg created abstract art, but the longer he looked the more he could see. On the first one there were spots of paint that must’ve been two cuddled figures in the dark place, surrounded by a little light, just around them, like a halo. James thought it must represent how Regulus felt about his brother, what was confirmed as he spotted Sirius’ eyes glistening in the bright lights of the gallery.

The second one was brighter, like it was some kind of meadow maybe? There also were smudges of paint in different colours - some of them lighter others darker. Those probably were Regulus’ friends and James had an urge to comment on that one.

“That’s so cute. They must’ve loved it so much” he said, looking down at Regulus. “Where are they, by the way?”

“They will come later, when there’s not so many people so we can really discuss others works” the younger man replied simply. “We’ll probably just end up laughing at them, really” he added with a shrug.

At that James pretend to be outraged, gasping and putting a hand to his chest.

“Oh! Am I not worthy of laughing at other people’s art with you? Tell me how can I be granted this privilege, I’ll do anything!” He kept up his act, grabbing Regulus by the shoulders, bending his knees like a sufferer begging for water.

The younger of Black brother looked at him, trying real hard to not look amused, but his eyes were giving him away.

“You’re pathetic” he said, not even a little bite to it. To be honest he sounded a little like he was enjoying James’ antics.

“Yet, you like me so much you managed to rob your own brother of my number” James said it like he was plotting something. “And you wanted to rob me of my time, the audacity.”

“Please stop” the shorter man buried his face in his hands. “Don’t mention it ever again” he added, a little muffled by the hands. He had really nice hands, James noticed.

“Oh, I will not stop till the day I die.”

They moved to the third piece and- oh. James might not be the brightest person alive, but he knew what was on the last painting. It was similar to the other two they saw earlier, smudges of paint in different shades creating two figures. The figures were hugging, not like the first ones, but more like lovers trying to become one. One person was rather pale, contrasting with the other who looked tanned. Their hair was black and deep brown, respectively.

James looked at it with awe, felt the butterflies waking up in his stomach and flying freely all over his body. He looked at Regulus, but the other man hasn’t met his eyes, staring straight ahead at his work. James noticed he turned a pretty shade of reddish pink on every bit of his face. His own lips turned into a big fucking grin. He wanted to reach out, touch Regulus, hug him, anything really.

Unfortunately, from behind him came Sirius’ gasp and then excited “Oh my god, Reggie, you painted me and Moony? Oh, that is so lovely, can I have it later?”

James, Remus and Regulus looked at the man at the same time, each one with a deep frown, not believing how delusional Sirius is. As if they shared a brain cell, all three of them nodded in agreement to not lead him astray.

Regulus cleared his throat, and turning to his brother he said “Yes, that’s you and Remus, and no, you cannot take it.”

As the older turned to stare daggers at the younger, they just started bickering about who should have the painting, Remus and James looking at them with amusement.

After some time Regulus’ friends came and the three older man ushered to exit so the younger guys could have fun together. Just before they left, James approached Regulus one last time, cheeky smile on his lips.

“Sirius and Moony, huh?” it earned him an eye roll and a sheepish ‘shut up’. He just smiled wider and leaned down to whisper in Reg’s ear, feeling the black-haired man’s breath hitching “Text me when you get home.”

With that he walked backwards in the general direction of the exit, still looking at Regulus who looked positively stunned. James winked at him and Reg, after waking from the haze, flipped him off. James just chuckled at that loudly, turning to the door.

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #modern au #artis regulus

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mochinek0 · 5 months

Text

Daminette December 2023: 3-Manga

"You should take her to that café on Fifth Ave." Jon declared, "She loves sweets and they serve a variety of tea there. It's perfect!"

"Marinette, remember to be courteous of his diet." Kagami spoke, "Don't go anywhere there are few options."

"I think Damian is picking the place this time so that won't be a problem." Marinette replied.

"Is that seriously what you're wearing?" Jon shouted.

"What is wrong with my outfit?" Damian questioned.

"Oh, nothing." Jon snarled, "It's just your usual suit. It's a date, Damian! You're not going to a gala; dress down, like if we were going somewhere."

Damian rolled his eyes and walked back into his closet.

"I have the perfect outfit for you!" Adrien shouted, pulling out the viral strawberry dress, "It's perfect!"

"Adrien, I really don't think-" Mari began to refuse.

"It's spring. You look great in pink and as a designer can you really refuse?" he countered.

Marinette sighed and grabbed the dress.

"Make sure you wear your red bow heels." he shouted.

"What?" Marinette yelled, "No way!"

"Are you going to wear your converse and clash." Adrien smirked.

Mari growled and went back into her room.

"Hurry up!" he called back, "I'm doing your hair and make up, too."

Marinette couldn't help but feel utterly ridiculous right now.

'How did I let Adrien talk me into dressing up like this? I feel so stupid right now!'

Marinette smiled, embarrassed, as she waved to Damian.

'Jon, I'm going to kill you.'

Damian took in Marinette's appearance and felt completely underdressed. She was wearing a short pink dress with flowing sleeves with strawberries and Jon had convinced him to come in jeans! Marinette was wearing heels; she never wear heels! Damian was already thinking which piece of kryptonite he was going to use to kill his best friend with.

Marinette looked around the tiny café. It was definetely something new. They had never eaten there before. She could see stands her family used for cupcakes, but these had.....sandwiches?

Damian gulped as she looked around. She seemed excited.

'Maybe Jon was right; I'll just maim him.'

'I never thought Damian would like these kind of things. This place reminds me of the galas he always complains about. He told me he hated finger food so why are we here? Did I say something to make him think I would like this? Is this because I told him I want jalapenos on the veggie pizza last time?'

"I apologize for being underdressed, Marinette." Damian spoke.

"Are you kidding?" Marinette questioned, "I feel overdressed. Adrien suggested this outfit."

"Jon suggested mine." he admitted.

Marinete giggled, "What else did Jon suggest?"

"Coming here." Damian admitted.

"Seriously?" Marinette asked, "How about we split a veggie pizza? I'm buying."

Damian stood up quickly and rushed to pay. Marinette just giggled at his urgency.

'I knew he didn't like this place.'

"So, did Agreste suggest the hair, too?" he questioned, looking at her hair in space buns.

"Yeah." Mari spoke, " He insisted. He said something about wanting to style my hair like this for awhile and how he needed it to be long enough."

"That I don't mind." Damian stated, "Although, I'm sure you are eager to get out of those heels."

As Damian drove them over to her apartment, Marinette texted Adrien and Kagami. She lied and said the date had been a disaster and she was at home. The moment they arrived, Damian texted Jon saying there had been an accident at the café and he desperately needed a change of clothes. He told him they had gone to her place as it was closer to the café.

Damian quickly hid in her room and Marinette sat on the couch facing the door. She buried her face in her hands as she heard footsteps pounding the hallways like a stampede. Her front door was thrown open.

"What happened?" Adrien shouted.

"I have my blade!" Kagami cried, holding it up in the air.

Almost instantly, Jon barreled into them shouting, "I have clothes!"

"Ow." Adrien winced, "Jon?"

"Who is he?" the fencer demanded.

They turned to Marinette for answers, only to see her glaring at them. They hadn't even heard her get up from the couch.

"Sit down; now!" she demanded.

Jon had never seen Marinette pissed off, but Adrien had.

'Not good!'

Adrien quickly grabbed Kagami's arm and pulled her to sit down where Mari had been. Jon wasn't sure what was going on, but he rushed to sit next to the others.

"You can come out now." Mari called out and Damian walked out.

"Hey!" Jon whined, "You said-"

Damian grabbed the clothes out of his friends arms and went back to his girlfriend's room.

"All three of you made this date a disaster." Marinette claimed.

"But-"

"We didn't know where we were going so we were dressed horribly." Marinette stated, "As a fashion designer that is a huge no in my books. While I don't mind Damian dressed casual, it would be fine if we were going to the mall, the movies, or a shopping date. I'm wearing a $200 dress that you insisted I wear."

"But you look so cute!" Adrien defended himself.

"I'm in heels, Adrien!" Mari shouted back.

Kagami even looked at him, like he lost his mind.

"You had us go to a tea shop." she spoke, pointing to Jon.

"Damian likes tea and you like sweets." Jon shrugged. Kagami sighed, "She grew up in a bakery. She bakes all the time. Marinette probably has five different types of bread or sweets in her kitchen, right now."

"While it's great you thought of both of us, they have specials on certain days. They were serving roast beef sandwiches today." Marinette explained.

"Oh." Jon whispered, sinking lower into his seat, praying that Batcow would forgive him.

Damian walked out of the room and took Marinette's spot as she walked into her room.

"Where did you get these ideas?" Damian demanded.

"Manga." they all answered.

Marinette walked out of her room in a new change of clothes. She kept her hair down, but was red crop top and black short. She had even traded in red heels for some white converse high tops.

"So?" Mari questioned.

"Manga." Damian answered.

Marinette facepalmed, "Swap mangas or something, but next time you want to give advice, make sure everyone has read it. Also, make sure you all agree with it."

Kagami pouted, "So, I don't need my blade, right now."

"No, Kagami." Mari responded.

"Fine." the fencer replied, sheathing it away.

"I'm sorry, Mari." Adrien spoke first.

"I'm sorry, Damian." Jon declared, " I was only trying to help."

"As was I." Kagami stated.

Mari smiled and grabbed Damian's hand, " Alright, well, now that that is over with; let's go."

"Where are you going?" Kagami questioned.

"We're gonna go on a pizza date." Marinette answered.

Damian spoke, "We are picking it up and then heading to my place to watch movies."

"It sounds boring." Huffs Adrien.

Mari stuck out her tongue at him and turned back to her boyfriend, "It sounds perfect."

The trio of friends pouted as all their hard work went to waste.

'Weirdos.'

As the couple walked out of Marinette's apartment, the three new friends began to go over what manga they had fixated on for the date and others they had read.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @missmadwoman @meira-3919 @princessdaisysolosyourfaves @blep-23 @fangirlingfanatic @darkhinauniverse @ravenr22 @im-a-satanic-ritual @ravennm84 @bianca-hooks123 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @starling218

#daminette december 2023 #damientte #damian wayne #marinette dupen chang #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #jon kent #jonathan kent #jon matchmaker #jon helps damian #kagami tsuguri #adrien agreste #friendship #manga #date night #hype squad #change of plans #mochinek0

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fandoms-writings · 1 year

Text

Masterpiece

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: bartender!bucky x college!reader (age gap of 10-ish years)

Word count: a little over 8K (sorryyyyyyy)

Summary: you’ve been dating Bucky for a few months now, and it’s your final art show before you graduate, and he’s excited to see your final piece.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI Bucky (he needs his own warning in this one), pet names (sugar, baby, sir, daddy), alcohol and weed consumption, tiny bit of self doubt from Bucky but it doesn’t last long, he’s head over heels guys, smut at the end, like, detailed smut. If you don’t wish to read it, I’ve put a divider where it starts 😌 fingering, oral (f receiving), Bucky talks a lot in bed, unprotected sex (protect yourself irl please)

A/N: this is my first time like really writing smut so please bare with me but i hope you love it 🫶🏼

If you enjoy the story, please consider supporting me on my Ko-fi <3

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost

Bucky adjusted the cuff of his sleeve around his wrist, fidgeting with the fabric as he glanced at the clock for the thousandth time in the past hour.

He was meeting you at the final art show of your school before summer -it was your final show. You were graduating in just a couple weeks and he wanted to be by your side for all of it if you'd let him.

Though he didn't know anything about art - other than the fact that he loved watching you paint. You got this look on your face when you were focused and it was as if you were oblivious to anything else going on around you. The way your brows would just slightly crease in the middle as your eyes locked on to the colors you were working with or the canvas set on the easel. Sometimes the tip of your tongue would prod at your bottom lip or at the inside of your cheek while you decided what little details needed more of your attention.

There had been countless nights of you working on your final pieces for this exhibit being put together by your professor where Bucky got the opportunity to keep you company. You liked to paint in the bar while he worked, using the paints he'd gotten for you for Christmas. He'd come around to the corner that everyone knew was now yours where he'd make you take a much needed break, usually getting you to listen if he had a small plate of food from Sam. You'd usually take that time to ask him what he thought of what you had so far, even though he wasn't sure how much of a help he actually was.

Most of your paintings were of his regulars and every single one blew him away. But you never let him see the final piece, so he was excited to see tonight what you'd made.

After clasping his watch around his wrist, Bucky took one last glance at himself in the mirror to make sure he looked alright.

He hoped he wasn't over dressed in his suit, you hadn't told him exactly what kind of attire he should show up in, other than he needed to dress nice and that he should wear maroon. He'd had Natalia go with him to pick it out - he hadn't needed a suit in years so he didn't exactly have one ready. She'd helped him pick it out but now that he was looking at himself, it felt like too much.

He wasn't really sure what you saw in him if he was being honest with himself. He was a little over a decade older than you and it showed. He'd started sporting more gray in his beard than he liked to admit and there were permanent wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. The smile lines and the frown lines both sunk a little deeper into his cheeks. He preferred a night in, reading a new book, over a night out.

Maybe I should lose the tie? He thought as studied his appearance.

He reached up to pull the fabric around his neck loose when there was a knock at the door.

"Bucky!" Ana's voice filtered through the door, "Are you ready? We've gotta go if we're gonna catch the subway in time!"

Pulling open his front door, he realized maybe he wasn't too overdressed. Ana was in a baby blue floor length, thin strapped dress with a slit up her thigh, though it didn't look too uncomfortable - in fact, it looked incredibly soft - and a pair of strappy heels. Her girlfriend, Val, was in a pair of pin striped pants, a black turtleneck, and a pair of nice white shoes to finish the look.

"Oh don't you look nice!" Ana claimed after taking in his suit.

"Really?" He asked, "I feel like it's too much." He looked again in the mirror by the door, tugging at the tie. "Should I forget the tie?"

She pondered for a moment, looking him up and down, taking in the charcoal black slacks and matching coat, the maroon button up shirt and the black tie around his neck.

"It depends," She started, "Do you want to look like a businessman? Or do you want to look like a sexy dilf?"

"I, um, I don't know," He felt his face flush as he stuttered for an answer, "I just don't want to over do it."

Ana smirked, "Loose the tie, bring the jacket, but don't wear it."

He nodded before pulling the tie off and shucking the jacket, carrying it over his arm. He grabbed his keys and went to follow them out before Ana's hand popped up in front of his chest.

"And undo the top button," She declared. "Actually, the top two."

The outside of the building was rather plain in Bucky's opinion. The sunset was reflecting off of the large floor to ceiling windows that were framed in black, and he could see the exhibit all put together on the other side of the glass.

There were already several people filling the space, but you'd told everyone you'd meet them outside. Bucky watched the crowd pass by on the sidewalk as Ana and Val discussed their plans for tomorrow night.

He'd never been to something like this. Sure, he'd accompanied you to the art museum, but this was for you. He came to support you specifically and he felt like maybe something was missing now.

Should I have brought flowers? A gift? He gnawed on the edge of his bottom lip as he looked around. Usually there were vendors out, selling little nick nacks or souvenirs. Really just anything to make a living. And among those was typically a flower cart. But as he looked around, the carts of random items were nowhere to be seen, packed and gone home for the night.

He let out a disappointed sigh through his nose and turned his attention back to the door right as you walked out.

His mind stopped working as he saw you, time freezing for him as he took you in.

You were wearing a beautiful long sleeve dress with a shawl collar, its color split down the middle. The left side was a deep black, the right matching the same maroon as his dress shirt. The waist was cinched in just enough high on your waist to accentuate the curves you already had and the flared hem stopped just below your knees. There were black strappy heels on your feet and your hair was styled perfectly. And to top it off, you were wearing the simple rose gold necklace he'd seen you wear everywhere you went, the jewelry resting on its claimed spot of your collar.

He didn't take another breath until your eyes landed on him and you gave him that amazing smile of yours, your lips lined in the same deep maroon. You weaved yourself around the people lingering at the front of the building until you stopped just short before him. The heels you were wearing gave you a little bit of height, but he was still taller than you by at least half a head.

"Hi," You breathed it out as if the sight of him had stolen your breath too.

"Hi," He couldn't stop the corners of his lips from pulling up as he gazed down at you. "You look stunning."

You didn't fight the grin that took over you as you muttered a 'thanks' and ducked your head. You reached for his arm, setting your hand against it as you looked back up at him, "You don't look too bad yourself."

Ana clearing her throat had you two whipping your heads to her and Val, "While you do look amazing," She stated with a pointed finger at you, "It's getting chilly out so maybe we can take this love fest inside?"

Bucky's cheeks flushed and he stifled his laugh as you tried to glare at your roommate while being obviously flustered that you'd walked right past her. You straightened your back and squared your shoulders.

"Only because you asked so nicely," You bit back. The small venom in your words didn't hold any actual mal intent, and everyone in your group knew that as they laughed. Ana and Val lead the way, holding the door open for you and Bucky.

At the feeling of Bucky's hand resting on the small of your back, you glanced over your shoulder, giving him your small smile again before turning and leading him inside.

The inside was dark, the walls a dark gray, almost black. Each art piece on display had a warm off-white spotlight shining on it. Bucky expected the space to be louder than it was, just by seeing how many people were here, but he was pleasantly surprised when everyone's conversations were mere murmurs and mumbles as you all passed by, most of them drowned out by the subtle music playing over the speakers.

You took him on a tour around the gallery, arm in arm and pointing out pieces that were made by your friends. They were all wonderful and amazing pieces, but he really just wanted to see your stuff, but he remained patient while you were stopped by peers and professors from your college along the way, only speaking when you introduced him. This was your night, and he wasn't going to take that away from you by stealing conversations. He also didn't know much about art, only really about how much time and effort went into each piece - thanks to you and Steve - so he wasn't about to pretend he knew what he was talking about.

Looking ahead to the direction you were leading him before you got stopped again, he could notice one of the paintings he'd watched you paint. You'd been sitting in your chair on the other side of your living room while he was watching a show - well, he was supposed to be watching a show, but he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"Bucky?" Your voice caught his attention again, along with a tug on his sleeve, and he looked over to you. You had a worried look on your face, but the girl who'd stopped you just a moment ago was still there.

"What, sugar?" He asked.

"If you're bored, you can go on ahead, it's okay," You were trying not to let too much of any emotion into your voice with how quiet you were being. Something about the way you said it made Bucky think he's not the first person you said that to. But who in their right mind would make you feel like you had to say that? Who would be so disinterested in you before him that now you had the instinct to tell him not to wait for you? It was unacceptable.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am, don't worry about me," he grinned down at you, trying to ease the sudden anxiety coming off of you in waves. You smiled, letting your shoulder relax as you turned back to your friend Zoe, who could only help but smirk at the two of you.

"Hey," she said, gaining both of your attention, "My roommates and I are having a small party to celebrate today, you should come. Both of you."

"Oh, I'd love to, but," You turned to Bucky, "Don't you have to work?"

"I do," He grinned, "But I can always take off early, meet you there. If you want?"

"Who would close the bar?"

"Hey, give Sam some credit, he knows how to close the bar on his own. He's a big boy."

You laughed at that before turning to Zoe, "We'll be there."

You went your separate ways, linking your arm with Bucky's and leading him down the hall where your artwork was on display. "You sure you want to party with a bunch of youngsters, old man?" You leaned in and asked, earning a laugh from him before he sighed.

"Oh, I don't know. I may have doomed myself, huh?"

"Mhm, probably." You hummed with a giggle before turning him to an open room with statues in the middle, your pieces lining the walls on the other side.

You knew the second he saw it, almost as soon as you walked in, because he took in a sharp breath, eyes locked on the other side of the room.

"Whoa," He breathed out, hesitating to take another step closer. Your nerves grew with his sudden change of movements and you couldn't help but squeeze his elbow.

"You like it?" You asked, and he must've sensed your worries through your voice because he whipped his head to you.

"This is incredible," He said while pointing at it.

It was a combination of different sized canvases all painted in his bar, placed strategically across the whole wall. Each one contained a different scene, but they were manipulated just enough to where if you stood at the right angle, they created one large picture. All of his regulars, your friends, his friends who worked with him, all there. In the center was him, with a cocktail shaker in his hands and a smile on his face.

"What was your theme for this?" He asked, finally walking closer to see all of his favorite faces on the wall.

"I chose community, family, a support system," You explained, "And you have such a strong one, I couldn't help it."

"You missed someone, though," He said, his voice dropping in disappointment and you couldn't help it when the smile on your lips fell.

"What? What do you mean?" You looked from him to the wall, searching the faces for who was missing. You were there often enough that you knew everyone who was a regular. You knew. There was no way you missed anyone.

"You," He looked at you with an exaggerated pout, "You're not in here."

You couldn't help the coo that you let slip from your lips and you held in a laugh, "Aw, I'm sorry. I'll have to paint one and fit me in somewhere."

He smiled at that, "I know where you can go."

"Oh yeah? Where's that?" You asked as he pulled you close with one hand and looking at the painting, pointed to a spot with his other.

"Right next to me."

"Bucky!" You called out as you padded down the driveway straight for him. You'd exchanged the dress and heels from earlier for a more comfortable outfit, joggers covering your legs and a loose long sleeved shirt keeping you warm.

He braced himself, steadying his feet and holding out his arms before you crashed into him. Your giggles flooded his ears as he stumbled backward but held on tight to you, keeping you both from toppling to the ground.

"Hi, sugar," He chuckled into your hair. You smelled like weed and beer and he could only imagine what he'd been missing as you squoze him to death. You nuzzled your nose into his neck, inhaling and getting one more squeeze in before you pulled away.

"You always smell so good," You had a half pout on your face as you pulled back, "It's not fair."

He let out a hearty laugh at that, "How's it not fair?"

"Because I know there are girls out there that see you at the bar and then get a whiff of your cologne and a look at your face and then they want you, but they can't have you, cause you're mine," You rambled and he laughed, doing his best to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at you calling him yours.

"I still don't understand how it's not fair to you, but alright."

"It's not fair because I wanna smell like you all the time," You mumbled before turning and tugging him toward the house.

"You know all you have to do is ask and that can be arranged, right?" He asked, watching you walk in front of him.You peaked over your shoulder at him with an amused but curious look in your eyes and he smiled. "It's kind of a perk to, ya know, dating me. If you ask, I'll give you anything."

"Anything, huh?" You cheekily asked as you opened the door to the house, the music spilling out into the garage as you led him inside.

"Don't make me regret saying that," he chuckled.

You led him to the kitchen, getting him a drink that you made incredibly strong. To get him caught up is what you claimed it was for. Though by the way your eyes were rimmed red, he'd be right to assume you were more stoned than you were drunk.

He thought that he'd stand out too much at this party, being a decade older than pretty much everyone there, but all of your college friends were good about including him. Inviting him to play drinking games, roping him into conversations he actually enjoyed, and even offering him what you'd smoked. He'd taken a couple small hits, but he wanted to be able to drive you home later so he kept it light. He'd actually driven for you, and he never really pulled his car out of the garage - it was easier to walk the city.

He liked being here with you, even if you were on the other side of the room, dancing your heart out with your friends. He got to sit back and watch, reveling in the warmth that spread through his chest - whether it be from the small amount of liquor or from seeing you so happy he wasn't sure - but he'd welcome it regardless.

He loved seeing you so carefree. Usually, you constantly had your head in your paints and pencils, working on your next piece. And he was so proud of you, don't get him wrong, but he was glad you were letting yourself go, even if it was just for the night. He was sure you'd be right back to it tomorrow - well, maybe in a couple days, he was sure you'd probably have a killer hangover in the morning.

The music changed and he watched as you stole the blunt from Zoe - though she was too preoccupied to really notice. You waltzed over to him, taking a long drag and then holding it out for him, but he declined and you passed it onto the next person before you placed yourself on his knee, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped his free hand around you back, holding you steady as you nuzzled into his neck again.

"You look good out there, sugar," He muttered so only you would hear, not that anyone here was in their right mind enough to pay attention to the two of you.

"Mm, it was a good song," You mumbled, raking your fingers through his hair. He'd wanted to cut it a few weeks ago, but you gave him those puppy eyes of yours, claiming that you liked to play with it and tug on it. And who was he to take that from you? So he let it keep growing, and even though he didn't really enjoy having to actually try to get it to lay right, the feeling of your fingers running through it was more than worth it.

"You ready to get going? Or did you wanna stay longer?" He asked, shifting so he could press his lips to the side of your face.

You hummed in thought before you slightly pulled away, just enough to get a look at him.

"What're we going to do when we get home?" You asked and his heart jumped at your words. He loved when you called it home. You still were across the hall, but you were over so often, your things littering his space, it was basically your home too. He loved it.

"Whatever you want to do," He whispered against your lips before gently closing the distance for a quick kiss, tasting the weed and alcohol on your tongue.

"Anything?" You asked, and if the way your fingers tightened on his hair didn't tell him what you wanted, the fiery look in your eyes sure did - the sparks there igniting the fire in his own body.

"I said anything, didn't I?" He asked with a smirk and you smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"We should get going then," You muttered before placing a heated kiss upon his lips. It only lasted a moment before you jumped up from his lap and he leaned to try to keep your lips on his. "Let me say bye first, kay?"

"Alright, sugar, I'll be here when you're ready." He watched you saunter off to your friends, getting lost in the crowd as he adjusted his suddenly too tight pants.

"Isn't she a little young for you?" A voice asked to Bucky's left and he turned his head with a scowl on his face.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked. The man - boy, really - next to him smirked.

"Name's Flash," He cockily said, his nose tipped up in the air.

"What's it to you?" Bucky asked, taking the last swig of his beer, and setting down the bottle a little harder than he meant to.

"Well, shouldn't she be with someone a little more her age?" Flash asked and Bucky huffed a laugh before standing to his full height, watching as Flash's eyes widened once he towered over the boy.

"Maybe she would be if boys your age knew how to treat her." He turned at the sound of your voice getting close and found you trotting up to him.

"Ready?" You asked, a large smile on your face. He smiled, leaning down, pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You let out the tiniest whine and he smiled against your lips before backing away. He peaked over his shoulder at Flash whose face was red as a cherry.

"I'm ready, sugar. Let's go home," He turned back to you, offering his elbow for you to take, reveling in the feeling of your delicate grasp on his skin.

Regardless of how he handled that situation, he couldn't help but think about his thoughts earlier that day. What did you see in him?

He glanced at you, walking beside him to his car. You were rambling about something, but in your drug induced state, not much of it made sense to him. He helped you into the passenger seat before making his way around the front to climb in the driver's side. When he got the car started, he noticed you'd gone quiet and you were staring at him, your lids half closed in your relaxed demeanor.

He chuckled and started the car, "What're you lookin at?"

"You," You drawled out, reaching over to wrap your hand around his bicep and laying your head there, never looking away.

"What're you doin that for, huh?" He looked to the road, pulling out of the parking spot and starting the way home. Your fingers trailed across his chest, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake that crawled throughout his entire body.

"Cause I can, and I like lookin' at you," You lazily slurred, pressing your lips to the skin of his arm. "You're handsome," You muttered into his skin before tilting your head up again, "and sexy."

"Mm, I'm not too old for you?" He asked, keeping his tone light. He knew you'd already talked about this exact thing, back during christmas, but Flash's comment was seared in his head.

You sat up, your brows scrunched as your intense gaze burned a hole in the side of his face.

"What did Flash say to you?" You demanded and he couldn't help the upward movement of his brows.

"How did you know?" He asked, stopping at the red light and turning to you, the red glow against your skin making you look ethereal in your sudden frustration.

"Because he's an asshole and can't keep his mouth shut or his opinions to himself." You stated, "What did he say?"

He sighed, looking to the road, watching the light. "He made a comment about how you're too young for me."

The light turned green and he slowly went through the intersection as you sighed.

"If you were too old for me, I wouldn't be with you," You stated. He glanced between you and the road, seeing nothing but sincerity in your face and he smiled.

"Yeah?" He asked, "You aren't scared of being seen with an old man like me?"

You laughed at that, "You aren't that old!"

"Oh, c'mon! I've got gray hairs already!" He laughed back, getting more giggles from you in return.

"I like the gray hairs!" You collected yourself before leaning in, your hand on his leg making him jump and almost swerve the car. Your lips brushed against his ear as your fingers moved along his thigh, getting dangerously close to where he really wanted you earlier. "Plus, you actually know what you're doing when you fuck me."

He swallowed as he tilted his head to make room for your lips on his neck. You weren't usually this forward, but oh man was he loving it.

"If you don't stop, I'm gonna have to pull the car over and deal with you in the back seat," He gruffly muttered as you lips sucked on that spot on his neck.

"Mm," you let go of his neck, "Maybe I want you to." He stopped at the next red light and turned to face you, seeing that spark from earlier back in your eyes and he groaned.

"You're gonna be the death of me, ya know that?"

You giggled and bit your lip, dragging your teeth in the enticing way that you do and he knew he was done for.

"You did say we could do anything I wanted," You whispered, your hand squeezing his thigh again and he shook his head.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He laughed at your giggle and when the glow against your skin turned green he took off.

"How about, if you're good till we get home, I'll do that thing you like," He suggested, noticing how your thighs clenched in your seat and your hand tightened around his leg again. He took a glance at you to see all teasing gone from your features and he knew he had you.

You silently watched him from your seat, eyes darting over his features to see if he was just toying with you. When he got to the next light and stopped, he turned to you again.

"Well? You gonna be good, sugar?"

The second he got the door open, Bucky pulled you inside, closing the door and locking it as he pressed you against it, molding your lips together.

With the promise of doing what you loved, you held yourself together on the way home and you were good, so he was going to keep his end of the deal.

He threw his keys to the counter, hoping they didn't knock anything down as one of his hands gripped the side of your neck and his other wrapped around your waist. He dragged his teeth along your bottom lip, pulling a whine from your throat as he did so and he couldn't help the groan that shook his chest.

He let go of your neck, tapping your butt with his hands, telling you to jump. You'd done this dance so many times it was like second nature catching your legs and wrapping them around his waist so he could take you to the bed. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on the strands as he walked you to the bed, gently laying you down. He untangled your legs from around him and tried to pull himself away from your grasp, chuckling at your whines of protest.

"Hold on, sugar," He muttered against your lips before you finally let him go. He stood, bringing each of your legs up so he could pull off your shoes, throwing them to the corner of the room. He felt you tug on the hem of his shirt and he smirked at you. "C'mon now, you know the rules."

You put on a fake pout and tugged on it again, "Come back."

He grinned at you, "How do good girls ask?" You narrowed your eyes at him before quickly sitting up to grab his collar, pulling him back down with you and pressing your lips to his again.

"Please," You whispered in his mouth and he couldn't help the chuckle he let out, getting a giggle from you in return.

"You're a brat," he said into your skin as he moved to your neck, dragging his lips across the spot where your neck met your shoulder, another sinful whine filling his ears, driving him mad.

"You like it though," Came your breathy reply. He sat up, holding the hem of your shirt and looking at your face. You were already gone, lost in the moment and he tugged on the fabric to gain your attention.

"Can I?" He asked and you rolled your eyes, a lazy smile growing on your swollen lips.

"You know you don't have to ask, anymore," You claimed as you arched your back to help him take your shirt off.

"I know, but it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he leaned down, tracing kisses down your sternum, and nipping at the flesh of each of your breasts. He reached behind you, pinching the clasp of your bra to open it, pulling it forward and dragging the straps down your arms before tossing it anywhere else.

"I don't know why you wear that thing," he muttered, moving from one to the other, his breath leaving a hot trail across your skin. He watched as your skin prickled with goosebumps and he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face, "It can't be comfortable."

You giggled when he dragged his scruff across your side, "I'm not explaining it again."

"Fine," he softly bit down on your hip, "keep my girls locked up and away from me, why don't you?"

"Your girls?" You asked, lifting your head to look at him and whining when he looked up at you through his lashes, refusing to let go of your skin before he was sure there would be a mark there in the morning.

"Yeah, my girls," He declared, reaching up with his left hand to gently squeeze your breast, "They're mine, aren't they?" He reached around your leg with his other hand and grabbed your thigh, giving it a squeeze before he crawled back up to you.

Your hands came up from the bed and tugged his shirt up, ignoring his question. He sat back, pulling the offending fabric over his head and he went to throw it but remembered earlier and he looked at you before holding it out to you.

"You like how I smell right?" He asked, and at your shy nod, he set the shirt against your skin, "You keep that, and when it doesn't smell like me anymore, I'll give you a new one. How's that sound?"

You giggled at him, shaking your head but gently pulling it to hide your face, "Okay."

"You can't use it to hide from me though," he pulled it from your face, crowding you again and dragging his nose across your cheek, "That's not fair."

You leaned up, pulling his lips down to yours and tossing the shirt to the side. He rested the weight of his hips on you and groaned when you thrusted up, pressing on him in the best way.

"You owe me," You whispered against his lips and he chuckled.

"I know, sugar, I promised, didn't I?" He pulled back, sliding his fingers into the waistband of your joggers, "Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

You shook your head as you leaned up on your elbows, watching as he leaned down and traced the lines of your legs with his mouth, following the descending pants. Once he threw those god knows where on the floor - he'd find them for you in the morning - he shuffled so he could lay between your legs, pressing an open mouth kiss to your clit through your panties. A groan shook through you as your hips tried to follow him when he pulled back.

"Don't tease me like that," You pouted with a whine, "I was good for you."

"I know you were," he said the words into the little amount of fabric still covering you, letting his warm breath fan across, driving a shiver up your spine. "You were so good for me, weren't you?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you watched him, eyes following his fingers as they slipped between you and the fabric before he pulled it back and let it gently snap back at you. When your narrowed eyes snapped to him, he let out a laugh before finally doing what you wanted.

Once he had that out of the way, he resettled between your legs, wrapping his hands around your thighs and glanced down, a smile growing on his face before he looked up at you again.

"All this for me?" He asked, leaning his head closer, but when you didn't respond, he froze, his mouth hovering over you, watching you. "Sugar," he drawled, knowing you weren't too far gone to have forgotten the rules - not yet.

He started this little rule with you when he found out how shy you could get in bed. You'd never been with someone as vocal as he was, and you'd come up with this rule together that if he asked you something, you had to reply.

Huffing a breath out, you finally responded, your voice barely there, "Yes."

"Good girl," He smirked before dragging his tongue through your folds, groaning when the taste of you hit his tongue. He watched as your jaw went slack when he got to the top, latched his lips around your bundle of nerves and gave it the tiniest suck. A low groan crawled it's way out of your throat as he refused to look anywhere but at you.

He only pulled his tongue off you for a moment, to angle himself back down before this time fully attaching himself to you, burying himself in you. He held your thighs, gripping them as they tried to flex around his head. Normally, he'd be perfectly fine with it, having your legs wrapped around his head, but he wanted tonight he wanted to hear you.

It was like this room became his church, you were his deity, and your moans and cries were the choir, reverberating off the walls and flooding his senses as he recited his prayers between your legs.

He noticed your arms shaking from holding yourself up and released one of your legs, reaching up to press the palm of his hand against your chest, gently pushing you down. "Relax, sugar, let me take care of you, yeah?" He muttered against your folds, groaning into you when you whined, pressing your hips into him.

He could stay there forever, with your legs over his shoulders, his tongue playing with your center, the taste and sound and smell of you completely taking him over. Your fingers found their place in his hair once again and tugged on the strands, earning another groan from him as he buried it between your fold, sending the vibrations through you.

He adjusted his arm over you to lay across your stomach, holding your hips down as his other one released your thigh and moved to join his mouth, his fingers prodding at your entrance before sinking into you with ease.

The gasp you let out made him dizzy as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, slowly dragging the pads of his middle and ring fingers along your walls, in search of that spot.

He knew he found it once you mewled out his name, oh James, and he felt the spongy spot, pressing down on it, your legs clamping around his head. It's not like you didn't call him James in other situations, but there was something about the way you sang it here, in his bed, that made a shiver run through his spine, the ego boost it carried going straight to his head.

“Right there, sugar?” He smirked against your skin, not giving you a moment to respond before he reattached his mouth to you, pumping his fingers in time with his tongue rolling against your clit, the pads of his two fingers brushing against that spot over and over and over.

Spurred on by your chants of oh god, right there James, please, please don’t stop, he worked in tandem with the rhythm your hips had chosen. He knew you were close by the way your walls fluttered around his knuckles and the certain way you scratched his arm as it held your hips stiller than you wanted them.

Without removing his fingers, he pulled his lips off of you, releasing your hips and reaching to catch your hands, holding them both to your stomach as he pulled himself up just enough to be above your chest. You were watching him with glazed over eyes, your lips parted and your chest heaving as he leaned his head down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it before grazing his teeth over it. You whined when he released it, but immediately let out a loud moan when he caught the other one, doing the same thing to it.

"James," you gasped out, "I'm close."

"Oh sugar, I know. I can feel your walls fluttering," He said as he leaned up to hover his mouth over yours, "Do you wanna cum on my fingers and my tongue, or do you wanna cum on my cock, hm?" He knew you hated when he made you choose like this, as if your brain was clear enough to make a decision. You did your best to look angry at him, but with the way his fingers were moving in and out of you, you couldn't keep the facade up longer than a moment before you moaned again.

"C'mon, sugar, tell me," His lips brushed against your lips, "Tell me what you want."

Your panting breaths were fanning against his lips as you fought off your climax, finally giving him an answer. "I want both," You mewled out.

"Both?" He asked as he moved back down, "You're greedy tonight, aren't you?"

He didn't know where it came from, the name that rang in his ears, nor did he expect it to have the effect on him that it did. But when the words please, daddy fell from your lips like a prayer - a prayer only he could answer - his brain short circuited.

You'd never called him that before - hell, he'd never been called that before but by the way he was now painfully erect and he was having trouble holding himself back - he wanted to see what other names he could pull from you. What else would you call him while so lost in what he was doing to you that you didn't even notice what you'd let slip.

"Fuck. Say that again," He gruffly demanded, holding himself above your core.

It was the fact that you didn't even hesitate before please daddy, don't stop, fell from your lips that had him devouring you like he was a starving man, replacing his fingers with his tongue. You tried to snap your legs around his head but he wrapped his arms around the backs of your thighs to hold them open.

It wasn't long before he had you falling apart on his tongue with a shout of his name, drinking down everything you had to offer and helping you ride out your orgasm before he finally let you go. He crawled his way up your body, dragging his lips across your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, leaving a wet trail up until he reached your mouth, crashing his lips to yours.

Your hands flew up to grab his face, pulling him as close as you could get him. He prodded your lips with his tongue, all but begging for entry. When you granted it to him and tasted yourself on him, you let out a long whine.

Your hands left his face and reached for his belt, tugging on the leather strap. He chuckled at you, "So impatient," before he stood from the bed and finished pulling his layers off.

Reaching for your legs, he made sure he had a good grip on you before slowly pulling you to the edge of the bed where he rested the underside of his cock against your soaked folds, groaning with his head thrown back as you reached up to drag your nails down the skin of his chest.

Bringing his head back down, he pulled your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, as he told you to be good and hold them there. Your legs were shaking in protest, but you did as he asked, bringing a smirk to his face as he reached for the side of your neck, stroking your cheek with his thumb before grinding himself down on you.

He watched your eyes flutter as you fought to keep them open, trying to keep your eyes on him as he stroked himself over you, the head brushing against your clit.

"Don't tease me," You whined out, your grabbing hands growing more desperate to get more of him touching you. You just wanted to feel his skin on yours, in any way he'd offer it. "Please."

He gave the side of your neck the smallest squeeze, watching as you reveled in the pressure, your eyes almost completely closing. "Please what?"

He thought you were going to respond with the same name from earlier, he was silently praying for it to tumble from your lips again, but what you said was so much better.

"Please, sir," You all but cried for him and he couldn't ignore the neediness in your voice, even if he wanted to take a minute to just bask in your attention and the names you called him.

"I got you, baby," He said, pulling away from you just enough to angle himself at your entrance, holding himself back from slamming into you in one go. He knew how sensitive you could get and wanted to make sure you would be okay before he had his way with you.

"Oh, sugar," he groaned out, squeezing your neck again, "You're always so warm." His breath faltered when you raised your hips, pushing him further into you. Your legs tightened around his hips, pulling him even deeper and he let go of your neck, moving to feel any of your skin he could reach, squeezing everything he could in his hands as he slowly started pumping in and out.

You sighed, finally having the friction you needed, dropping your hands to where his had stopped on your hips. He collected your hands in his own, bringing them together over your stomach and holding both of them in his left while his right one reached down, this thumb pressing slow circles of your clit and earning a sinful moan from you.

God, he loved being in you, but he wanted more - needed more. He brought your hands over your head, pinning them to the mattress as he crawled over you, angling your hips up to rest on his thighs, going as deep as he could - and by the sounds that escaped your throat, he could tell he was in the perfect spot for you.

He rocked into you, finding the rhythm that made you cock-drunk and hitting that little spot for you every time. Your pleas filled his head please, right there, oh god right there, don't stop and he swore he could get off on your voice alone as it sang for him.

He released your hands, grabbing both of your hips to pull them to meet his thrusts, refusing to take his eyes off of you as you cried out for him, each of his thrust earning a louder and louder cry. He would watch you like this all day if the world let him, it was one of his favorite views. But there was one more that he loved just a little bit more.

He slowed down, slowly dragging himself through your walls and you whined again, moving to reach for him but his voice stopped you.

"You wanna ride me, sugar?" He asked, smirking when your eyes flew open with determination. He knew you loved it as much as he did when you rode him - possibly even more if he was being honest.

You nodded your head, wincing when he pulled out of you to crawl up the bed, resting his back against the pillows in front of the headboard. Holding his hands out for you, he helped keep you steady as you took your place over him, sinking back down on to him, the gasp you let out making him twitch in you.

"C'mon, baby, I wanna see you cum again," He said, releasing your hands once you were fully seated and moving to hold your hips again. Your hands grasped at his chest, scratching his skin as you began to rock yourself.

It only took a second for you to find your rhythm, your fingers moving along his skin up to his hair and pulling him up to your neck where he sucked on the skin there. He wrapped one of his arms around your back, holding you to him as the noises you let out made him dizzy with need.

"Jamie, please," You panted, pulling his head back and he knew what you were asking for. He nodded, leaning back and planting his feet on the mattress before thrusting up, meeting your own movements at the perfect angle.

Your hands landed on his stomach to hold yourself up as he held your hips, pulling you down on to him. He knew you were close again by the pitch of your moans and moved his thumb to stroke your clit again.

"C'mon baby, give it to me, let me see it," He urged you on and you shook your head, refusing to stop.

"You first," You squeaked out and he smirked.

"I'm right behind you, I promise," He moaned, squeezing your hip when you slightly changed the angle, the pressure low in his belly growing and growing.

"Let go for me, please sugar, let go," he begged, putting just enough pressure behind his thumb to drive you over the edge.

You cried out as you fell forward, barely catching yourself and it only took him one, two, three more thrusts with your walls fluttering around him for him to follow you over that edge, the white hot pleasure flooding his system as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to him in a death grip.

Neither of you moved for a while after, catching your breath as your muscles spasmed before relaxing. When he finally calmed down, he reached his hand up to rest on your head and you nuzzled into his neck. He turned his head as much as he could to place his lips against your temple, whispering promises of a love he never intended on breaking.

The feeling of your lips against his skin stretching into a smile made him sigh, but it was the returned promise of I love you too, Jamie that stole his breath away.

The warmth that spread through his chest was a welcome one, and he knew that no matter how many times you told him that, his heart would always have that same reaction.

And he couldn't wait to feel it again.

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated <3

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ckret2 · 9 months

Text

Super totally normal things happening in Gravity Falls today.

Just. Incredibly normal.

Chapter 13 of Human Bill Is The Mystery Shack's Prisoner And Mabel Has Decided To Be Nice To Him, featuring: medical marvels being used for stupid reasons. You can read the previous chapters here!

####

"... So there you have it," Pacifica said, running a gloved hand through her hair and gracing the country club members with a pristine plastic smile. "You too can have a full, beautiful head of hair in seconds."

The watching country club members clapped politely. Mabel slyly peeked at the woman next to her and tried to copy her Fancy Clap, patting one hand's fingertips on the other palm.

Dipper didn't clap. He'd been staring out a floor-to-ceiling window, making direct eye contact with an albino peacock, for the last five minutes. When he moved his head, so did the peacock. A bead of sweat dripped from Dipper's hairline. The peacock's gaze followed its progress down his cheek.

The assistant who'd just massaged Hairy Fairy lotion into Pacifica's hair carefully stoppered the bottle, delicately wiped it clean with a golden handkerchief, threw the handkerchief away, and handed the bottle to Pacifica so she could hold it out to the crowd. Pacifica said, "And it only takes a couple of drops to give you a full head of hair, so this little bottle will keep you looking beautiful for years. Using it all at once would make you look like Rapunzel."

Mabel gasped softly. "I want to look like Rapunzel."

Dipper dragged his gaze away from the peacock and whispered, "Do you want it enough to spend ten thousand dollars on it?"

She considered this. "Yes," she said. "Think about it, Dipper. I could make it into a rope, and then: grappling hair."

Dipper pictured Mabel firing her grappling hook and losing her head when she ran out of "rope," and shuddered. "Hey." He elbowed Mabel and pointed at the assistant. "Is it just me, or is he a little overdressed for June?"

The assistant was covered from his feet to his forehead. Nothing stood out too much about a man in a suit in the kind of country club Pacifica visited—he didn't look like a member, but he sure looked like a member's servant—but whenever he stood at an angle that gave a glimpse up his sleeve, it was clear his gloves went far further up his arm than was typical. What was really strange was the silk bandana covering the bottom half of his face, like a Wild West bandit's butler, and the designer sunglasses shaped a bit too much like goggles.

"Yeah, you're right," Mabel said. "In the commercial yesterday, the person who did Pacifica's hair looked like they were in a hazmat suit. Do you think...?"

"But Pacifica doesn't have any protection at all," Dipper said. "If it was dangerous, they probably wouldn't have hired her and risked her family suing, would they?"

"Maybe her 'modeling gig' was getting cloned. And this is Pacifica's clone stunt double for the beauty industry to test its products on!" (The woman standing next to Mabel gave her a worried look.)

The Hairy Fairy spokesman who'd presented Pacifica—a thin man with a too-big mustache and a suit that matched Pacifica's hair—stepped forward to take over the presentation again. "Wasn't that magical, folks? That's exactly why we call this stuff 'Hairy Fairy'—because it's like something out of a fairy tale!" The spokesman laughed; several country club members joined in. "And definitely not because of any other reason. Now, are there any questions—no, no questions?" The spokesman pointedly ignored the raised hand of the woman next to Mabel. "Then who's interested in placing orders today? You can order later, of course, but we have a limited stock and it's going fast—if you're intrigued, you do not want to miss out on this exclusive opportunity to buy a bottle without having to compete with the common masses. Maybe you sir, with the receding hairline? How about you, ma'am—having second thoughts about that bob cut...?"

Her job done, Pacifica had started edging away from the front of the room. She caught sight of Dipper and Mabel and tilted her head toward a nearby hallway.

The twins quietly slipped from the crowd and followed her. Dipper looked at the albino peacock, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at it, and left.

The peacock fanned its tail threateningly.

####

"So—funny thing," Pacifica said, leading Dipper and Mabel into a wood-paneled and Persian-rugged locker room. Several boxes of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula were stacked against a wall, in hopes the club members would make some purchases. "I asked my manager why the Hairy Fairy commercial was airing in Gravity Falls, of all places, and get this: our marketing campaign is targeting communities whose population of over-65-year-old men has a high enough average net worth to afford our prices. Ultra rich balding old dudes. And Old Man McGucket has made so much money selling his patents that he's raised the average worth of the entire town's elderly male population. So, basically, the commercial's running for his benefit!"

Dipper laughed. "Whoa, seriously? If he wanted a hair growth formula, he could probably invent one in his bath tub with motor oil."

"I know, right?"

"This is the fanciest locker room I've ever seen," Mabel said. "All the lockers are made out of real wood!" She pulled open a locker that hadn't been properly shut. "Wow. Adult golf clubs."

"Oh, yeah," Pacifica said. "Most country clubs have golf. There's a full 19-hole course outside."

Dipper frowned. "Isn't golf usually 18 holes?"

"This is the rich people's country club. They go the extra mile here."

Mabel stood on one of the velvet-cushioned benches between two rows of lockers to give herself enough height to experimentally swing a club. "I've never played adult golf before."

"I play here from time to time, when my parents bring me along to network with their colleagues' offspring. I could let you in sometime if you want."

"That sounds great!" Mabel punctuated the exclamation with a full swing of the club. It hit the ceiling. She stared in horror at the long scratch she'd left in the wood, then started sheepishly practicing more modest swings, acting like nothing had happened. "Is adult golf better than mini-golf?"

Pacifica paused. "No. It's super boring."

"Aww."

"But coming here is more fun with friends," Pacifica said. "Thanks for, um, showing up to watch my demonstration, by the way. And for... trying to dress up." Dipper had paired his usual t-shirt, vest, backpack, and trapper hat with a nice dressy pair of slacks. Mabel had knit a sweater covered in dollar signs. "Don't tell anyone, but I was actually kind of nervous about doing it live, in case something went wrong? Having you guys there really helped. I knew I had to look perfect in front of the normal people in the audience."

Mabel groaned lightheartedly. "Pacificaaa! You got so close to saying something sweet and spoiled it at the last moment."

"I knowww. Being too sincere still feels weird. I had to water it down."

Dipper said, "Hold on. Before we say anything else: I need you to prove you're you and not some kind of clone. Tell me something only the original Pacifica would know."

Pacifica raised a brow. "Seriously? I'm like a minor celebrity, who would clone me?"

"You'd be surprised, Pacifica." Dipper adopted that squinty-eyed look and mysterious voice that he thought made him look like a worldly adventurer. "You'd be surprised."

"Okay, uh..." She sighed huffily. "The first time you played Bloodcraft, you got so mad at me for trying to get you into the armor shop to upgrade your embarrassing newb gear, because there was a dragon attacking the town."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't know that going into a building cancels a combat encounter, okay! I've played games where the enemy follows you through the next loading screen, I did not want to fight a dragon in an armor shop."

Pacifica laughed. "You were like, 'Are you just gonna let him burn down the town,' waving around your little tutorial-level handgun. As if the dragon didn't have twenty levels on you—"

"Okay, okay, got it. I believe you. You're Pacifica."

"It's really polite of the dragon to wait outside while you're shopping," Mabel said. She put on a fake deep dragon voice: "'You two find some cute clothes; I'll just be out here breathing... FIRE!'" Her next swing collided with a chandelier, smashing a couple of bulbs. Mabel jumped off the bench to stuff the golf club back in its bag and slam the locker shut. "That... wasn't polite of me."

Pacifica opened her mouth. Dipper cut in before she had a chance to speak: "Okay, before my sister gets us kicked out for destroying the ceiling: we did come here for a reason."

"Right!" Mabel put on her Serious Face and focused on Pacifica. "Could we get a little of that hair stuff?"

"No," Pacifica said flatly. "I said you could come to watch my demonstration, and that's it."

"Pleeease?" Mabel begged, hands clasped together. "Just a tiny bit? It's really important. I have this friend—" She paused. "That's the wrong word. Not a friend, more like an enemy—an enemy that I'm trying to be nice to—? It's complicated, I'm not making any sense—"

Pacifica said, "Hey. You don't have to explain. I'm a popular mean girl. You just described, like, every single one of my friendships."

Mabel went on, "But anyway, he got this awful haircut and it is ruining his life and I need this stuff to fix it."

Pacifica put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Listen. I empathize, really. But I can't just hand this stuff out, even to friends. I'm not even saying that to be a jerk, I will literally get in so much trouble if I give this stuff away."

"Even just a few drops?" Mabel pled.

"They would measure it. I'm not kidding!" Pacifica started pacing. "You have no idea what this company is like. Hairy Fairy's formula is crazy controlled, down to the last drop. Even I don't get free samples. There's a limited supply—something about the active ingredient going extinct? Anyway, they only have a few thousand bottles total and stock's going fast."

(As Pacifica spoke, wrapped up in her monologue, Mabel realized she could mosey behind her and rummage through one of the boxes without Pacifica noticing. Dipper watched and said nothing.)

"Besides, it's not something for public consumption," Pacifica went on. "There's super specific application techniques, it's got to be handed over to a trained hairdresser to apply, I can't even tell you everything about the handling techniques because just to get hired on as their model I had to sign like a mountain of non-disclosure agreements—"

(Mabel retrieved a bottle, pulled out the glass stopper, and rubbed it against the palm of her right hand so she could sniff the fragrance.)

"So, like, even if I did let you take some home, you'd probably apply it wrong anyway and it wouldn't do you any good—"

"Uhhh, Pacifica? Dipper?" There was a note of suppressed panic in Mabel's voice. "Why do I look like Grunkle Ford?"

Pacifica whipped around so fast her hair smacked Dipper's face. All three of them gaped at Mabel's right hand, which had just sprouted a sixth finger.

And then, as they watched, the finger extended—and developed into a full second hand sprouting off the same wrist.

Mabel opened her mouth to shriek. Pacifica clapped a hand over it. "Be quiet, you'll get us in trouble!" she hissed. "See this is why professionals need to apply it!"

Horrified, Dipper asked, "Wait—you knew?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you think they made me sign an NDA just to help advertise the stuff?"

"But—hold on—it can do this? And it's being sold to grow hair? If it can grow limbs, it could revolutionize medicine! It can heal injuries, reverse amputations, produce donor organs—!"

Pacifica shrugged. "Yeah, but the beauty industry paid better, sooo..."

Mabel tapped Pacifica's arm with her double hand. Pacifica shuddered and jerked her hand off Mabel's face. "Ew."

"Dipper," Mabel said, eyes wide. "Imagine all the cool new shadow puppets I could do!"

Dipper stared at Mabel. "I'm glad you're taking this well."

To Pacifica, Mabel said, "Is this why everyone who touches the stuff is covered in hazmat gear?"

"Yes," Pacifica snapped.

"But you're not! What's protecting you from getting mutated?!"

"Nothing! The first time we tried to film the commercial, I tilted my head at the wrong moment and grew a third ear," Pacifica said. "The danger is the whole reason they hired me: I am super good at staying calm while getting hazardous cosmetic procedures. My mom taught me to never show weakness in front of somebody I'm paying to alter my appearance." She cast a nervous glance toward the locker room door. "And now I'll get in so much trouble for letting you find out—and you're gonna get in trouble just for knowing—"

"Wh—us?" Dipper said. "Why us?"

"You literally just stole product. There's hundreds of dollars of lotion on Mabel's hand right now—"

"Don't worry about it!" Mabel put the bottle back in the box where she'd found it and clumsily closed it up. "We'll just sneak out and nobody will know anything happened!" She took off her sweater and wrapped it around her hands like a muffler. "Ta-da! What do you think!"

Pacifica grimaced, and looked at Dipper.

He shrugged. "Do you like the thought of losing your job better?"

####

"Hey, Mrs. Le Mónjelo," Pacifica said, smiling politely. "Hi, Mr. And Mrs. Oilbaron, good to see you... Hi there, senator, I haven't seen you since your fundraiser dinner—oh you bought some formula? That's awesome, I know you've got portraits for campaign season coming up soon..."

Trailing a step behind Pacifica with Mabel, Dipper leaned forward and hissed in her ear, "And you don't think you should warn any of them about—?"

Pacifica elbowed him hard. "I signed an NDA," she hissed. "Besides, as long as they read the instructions and let a hairdresser do it, they'll be fine."

"Pacifica!" A woman with red lips and redder hair stopped in front of them, smiling widely. "I haven't seen you here since the badminton club disbanded, what a pleasure."

"Oh hey, Mrs...." Pacifica blinked, drawing a blank. "Uhh..."

"Who are your little friends, here? I don't think I know them." The woman focused on Dipper and Mabel. "Do your parents ever come here? How do you know Pacifica?"

"Oh no," Pacifica said, "they're from California, they're just visiting. Their great uncles, um... own a startup... in the tourism industry."

"Oh, I see," the woman said, disapproval in her voice. "New money. Well, you'll grow into your wealth. It's good to be exposed to it from childhood, I always say. It's a pleasure to meet you." She reached past Pacifica to grab and shake Dipper's hand, then reached for Mabel—

Mabel jerked back, turning her hands away from the woman. "Aaahahah I can't do that! Sorry!"

The woman blinked at Mabel in bewilderment. "W—?"

"Because," Mabel said. "Because—I'm a hand model! Gotta keep the ol' moneymakers pristine!" She shook her dollar-sign-covered "muffler" demonstratively. "Yeah, me and Pacifica met through modeling."

"Oh," the woman said, now looking suitably impressed. "Do you protect them all the time? What remarkable dedication to your craft. Have I seen any of your work anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah," Mabel said, "did you catch the... two page spread in the... spring issue of... Diamond Rings Monthly... For Teens?"

"We should get going," Pacifica said, shooting Mabel a glare. "We don't want to miss your... finger yoga class."

Dipper buried his face in his hands.

"Right! Finger yoga! Can't miss it!" Mabel skipped toward the door. "Nice meeting you, ma'am!"

"A pleasure," the woman said, then mused to herself, "I don't think I've picked up that issue yet."

Outside the country club, an albino peacock glared balefully at Dipper through the wrought iron fence around the property. Mabel glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then unwrapped her sweater, made a mocking three-handed finger-peacock, and blew a raspberry. The peacock let out an offended honk.

"Thanks for covering for me," Pacifica said. "And sorry about your hand. Hands. I can call my mom's plastic surgeon to get that fixed, he's super discreet—"

"No no, it's okay," Dipper said. "Don't worry about it."

Struggling to pull her sweater back on over her double hand, Mabel said, "We know this Hand Witch, she'd be thrilled to take a donation."

Frowning, Pacifica silently mouthed hand witch.

"Buuut," Mabel said, "if you want to make it up to us, maaaybe you can get us a few drops of that stuff—?"

"What?! After all that, you still—" Pacifica stomped a foot. "No, absolutely not! And if anything, covering for me is the least you could do after wasting some product and risking me getting in trouble when they figure out the bottle's off! You don't get it! I can't afford to endanger this job! I have a family to support!"

Mabel and Dipper stared at Pacifica. They exchanged a look.

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you are thirteen."

"What the heck are you talking about," Dipper asked.

Pacifica stared at them, mouth open, face going red. "I—That—I'll—" She groaned. "I'll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret."

They both nodded.

Pacifica whipped out her phone. "I'm texting you an address. Meet me here after seven."

Dipper and Mabel leaned over Mabel's phone together. "That's kind of out of town, isn't it?" Dipper said.

Mabel said, "We can take the long way back from the Hand Witch's cave."

Dipper and Mabel waved bye to Pacifica as they walked off—at which point Mabel realized she could move all ten of her right fingers independently, and she trailed behind Dipper, distracted by making her fingers roll like a wave.

####

Ford said, "All right, what are you up to?"

Bill looked toward the living room doorway. He was sitting on the sofa, watching a Russian-language romcom, with a bowl filled with hard cider and colorful marshmallow cereal. He'd stuck a neon green straw that had been curled into the word "Queen" in the cider-cereal. "Do you mean the movie or my lunch?"

"I meant Mabel. Don't think I haven't noticed that you're trying to recruit her as your newest minion."

Bill rolled his eye. (Ford wasn't sure if his other eye was still glued shut by paint and makeup—the majority of Mabel's makeover had flaked off—or if Bill had just gotten into the habit of keeping it shut.) "Minion's such a strong word, Stanford! She wants me to feel comfortable here. I appreciate that and I accepted her help."

"And I don't suppose you've been taking advantage of her generosity to manipulate her into doing your wicked work, have you."

"If by 'manipulate' you mean 'telling her what would make me comfortable when she asked,' then I suppose I have." Bill scoffed. "When did you get so paranoid?" He took a sip from his boozy cereal.

"Around the time I learned the monster I thought was my friend was trying to destroy my dimension."

"Well, I have no idea who you're talking about, but he sounds like a real piece of work."

"And it's not paranoia when it's about someone who warrants that much distrust," Ford said. "Now tell me what you're up to with my niece."

Bill scoffed again. "If I were 'up to' something, I wouldn't tell you. And if I was innocent, you wouldn't trust me even if I told you the truth. So why are you asking me what Mabel's doing instead of her?"

Ford's scowl deepened; but he said, "You're right," and trudged off.

"There, see?" Bill called after Ford. "You didn't actually want information from me. You just wanted a confrontation! If you're looking for a little verbal fencing, we could be doing it over chess."

"Not on your life, Cipher."

"Checkers?" he suggested. "Parcheesi? DD&MD? Go Fish? Candy Kingdom? Oui-Oui Spirit Board?"

Ford didn't reply.

Bill shrugged and settled back in his seat.

Ford trudged back. "All right." He gestured impatiently at the TV. "Is this broadcasting from Russia?"

"Sharp as ever, Ford."

"How the devil are you picking it up from here?"

Bill's grin widened. "Want me to show you?"

Ford contemplated the slippery slope of allowing Bill to share his knowledge with him again, said, "No," and trudged off.

Bill was right—there was no reason for Ford to ask Bill what he had Mabel doing rather than asking Mabel herself, except that he'd wanted to talk to Bill. He was frustrated. Since the day they'd locked Bill in the Mystery Shack, Ford had spent every waking moment poring over all the old notes he'd kept during his interdimensional travels, every scrap of research he'd accumulated on Bill that he hadn't burned at the end of last summer, all the data he'd recorded on the portal to the Nightmare Realm and the rifts around Gravity Falls it had left behind, looking for something he'd missed that could explain why Bill was back and what it would take to get rid of him for good.

But so far he'd found nothing. Not a hint. And part of him felt like if he could just face Bill down again, have it out with him, that some stuck gear in his head would finally shake loose—

Obviously, that was stupid.

This morning, Stan had pointed out how exhausted Ford looked. He'd told Ford he wasn't about to kill the triangle if he worked himself to death first. He'd said Ford needed somebody helping him. Stan couldn't help—not considering the kinds of advanced sciences he'd need to master just to enter a conversation on destroying something like Bill Cipher—but he was right that Ford couldn't do this in isolation. Here Ford was trying to futilely provoke Bill into giving something away; what more proof did he need that he was at the end of his rope?

When Soos had finished with the latest tourist group and led them into the gift shop, Ford waved him over from the other side of the room. "'Scuse me, folks," Soos said, with a wink, "it looks like one of our professional paranormal investigators might have something mysterious for me to check out."

(Ford glanced down at himself. He supposed he did look like some sort of mysterious investigator of oddities. Which he was, but knowing he looked like one felt kind of cool.)

Soos went on, "So you guys check out the merch and I'll be right back. We've got a sale on postcards!"

A woman with a fanny pack asked, "Does that investigator have six fingers?" Several tourists murmured appreciatively.

Soos tried to think of an answer that avoided framing Ford like he was part of the Mystery Shack's freak show, said, "No," and left.

"Sorry to bother you at work," Ford said. "I need to borrow your cell phone to text Mabel."

"Oh, sure dude." He fished it out and handed it over. "Is something going on?" His gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door to the living room. He didn't need to mention Bill.

"Hopefully not, but that's what I'm trying to find out." He went silent for a moment so he could focus on typing on the glassy keyboard.

There. He exited the conversation with Mabel and offered the phone back to Soos, but not before noticing one of Soos's recent conversations was with Fiddleford. "You and Melody go over to Fiddleford's from time to time, don't you? To... watch foreign cinema?"

"Oh—yeah, dude! We've been introducing him to the anime classics! He's gotten surprisingly passionate over Neon Crisis Revelations. Like—really passionate. I think we might have to retire mecha anime for a while," Soos said. "Sometimes Tate watches, too. Not every week, but... they're working on it. We, uh—actually kinda wanted to ask if you might want to come, sometime? When you're not working on the... 'Goldilocks' project? I get it if you're too busy or just not interested or whatever, but you seem like the kind of nerd who'd be really into anime. No offense. I meant it as a compliment, actually—most people consider an accusation of liking anime to be pejorative, but I think it speaks well to their tastes—"

"Soos." Ford offered him a small smile. "I was actually trying to figure out how to politely ask for an invitation."

"Oh. Phew! Mutually awkward social encounter: successfully navigated!" Soos held up a hand. "Up top!"

Ford high-sixed him. He appreciated having the little social successes celebrated. "Let me know if Mabel texts back, would you?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Pines!" Soos flashed Ford a thumbs up as he left the gift shop.

"'The Goldilocks project'?"

Soos started. "Oh! Wendy! Wow, I uh... totally forgot you were like... right there."

"Yup." She had her elbow propped next to the cash register and her chin in her hand. "Five days a week."

"Right. Right." Soos tugged his collar. "It's... it's nothing. But it's secret. But it's no big deal."

Wendy blinked at him. "Right."

"Right." Soos gestured vaguely at the tourists moseying around the gift shop. "I, uh, I should... bye."

Wendy watched him go, frowning.

Whatever "crisis" had happened on the first day of summer, it wasn't over. Something was wrong. She felt it every time she was at work, every time Dipper and Mabel made up an excuse to hang with Wendy away from the shack, and every time the Stans ventured into the Mystery Shack to draw Soos aside for a quick conversation. She felt it in her bones. Which seemed like something her dad would probably say, very loudly, so she hated feeling things in her bones.

It probably wasn't her business. Okay. Fine. Sure. Pines family stuff. She was just an employee/family friend, she didn't need to know all about their personal lives.

But—her gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door—much more of this, and she might have to start snooping anyway.

####

(Hi! Author here! I appreciate hearing what y'all think and what y'all enjoyed! Thanks! Next chapter and the conclusion of the Hairy Fairy plot arc coming this time next week!)

#mabel pines #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #(for the art)#(also they're the main characters this chapter and next)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the overall fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #bill goldilocks cipher #my writing #my art

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foxilayde · 7 months

Note

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

#oh my god this completely got away from me #but i literally have been thinking about the meet cute for like a year and a half no joke #Leto Atreides x you #Scout tag

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kerryweaverlesbian · 3 months

Text

The Bunker kitchen is always cold, but it's at its coldest at the crack of dawn. Staring down into his creamed coffee, Dean wonders if 45 is old enough to slough off the habit of a lifetime and start sleeping in til at least 8, but then he remembers the nightmares he got the last time he tried messing with his sleep cycle. Maybe what he really needs is an extra pair of socks.

"I have something for you."

Dean looks up from his cup and smiles sleepily at Cas, who'd paused to get dressed when Dean had slumped directly to the kitchen in his pjs. He still wears his suit, tie and trench coat ensemble, thoroughly overdressed for 6.30 in the morning, but he still hadn't bothered to brush his hair. Mr Contrarian. He's adorable.

"I thought gifts were later," Dean says, instead of fawning. He has some dignity left. Somewhere.

"Big ones are."

"2 o' clock? No surprises?" Dean challenges - after his 40th, when he'd knocked Sam out thinking he'd been possessed with how shifty he'd been acting trying to hide the big party, Dean's (quite reasonably, he thinks) insisted on a strict birthday itinerary of his own devising.

"No surprises," Cas promises. He pulls his hand out of his coat pocket and puts a tape down on the table, flat, and slides it across to Dean with two fingers.

It's simply labeled in Cas’s looping cursive: For Dean. Dean picks it up and flips it over, no more information on the back.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like it," Cas explains needlessly, and Dean can see him fidgeting in his periphery. Cute. "I know you like to 'pick the music' but I thought you might appreciate knowing some that make me think of you."

"I like it," Dean assures him, glancing up to grin at him, and he's glad to see Cas’s shoulders relax.

"Good. It would have been very awkward if you didn't."

"Yeah, and you're never awkward," Dean teases, and gets a suspicious squint for it that pivots quickly into a fond eyeroll. "Can I play it now?"

"Oh," Cas says, sounding surprised, "Yes."

He vanishes for a second and then blinks back with one of their cassette players, one of those flat, black, functional things that star in 70s cop shows. There was a little puffy sticker of a stegosaurus on it from Jack's sticker phase.

"Ever heard of goodbye?" Dean complains unseriously, and happily accepts the sweet kiss Cas offers as he passes the player over.

Cas doesn't dignify him with a response, but he does stay close, hovering over Dean’s like a warm shadow as he sets the tape in and hits Play. There's a few seconds of staticky silence, and then, surprisingly, a recording of Cas’s voice comes rumbling out of the speaker.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Adiuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas-"

"Cas," Dean says, hitting Pause, "why am I listening to you doing an exorcism? Where's the rock'n'roll?"

"You like things that are practical. You're welcome." He says it with such sincere, smug certainty that he'd gotten it completely right that Dean can't help but laugh.

"So you made me an exorcism mix-tape?"

"It's helpful."

"Sentimentality, thy name is Castiel." Dean kisses Cas’s knuckles, delighted with him, "I thought you said there were songs on here."

"They're on the other side."

"This whole side is just you chanting?"

"Not all of it," Cas says, and leans over Dean's shoulder to skim through with the fast-forward. He lands expertly near the end, which should not be as sexy to Dean as it is. The Cas recording finishes his latin, then there's a long pause, and then:

"I expect you saved them by now. Or they died." A smaller pause, then Cas adds, at an afterthought, "Hopefully the former. Dean, I love you."

Click. End of the tape. It's only when Cas’s hand comes up gently to his cheek that he realises he'd shed a tear.

"Dean," Cas says, with his infinite tenderness, half wonder, half exasperation.

"Just caught me off guard," Dean protests weakly, swiping under his eye roughly (but careful not to dislodge Cas’s hand).

For around the first 6 months after Cas’s return, Dean couldn't hear an "I love you" without bursting into tears. He'd gotten better with it in the years following, but but sometimes it still hit. Like now. Cas knew that he'd only be using this side of the tape in an all the way fucked up situation, and he'd given him a small, unnecessary kindness. Another one - a charming little kiss is pressed to his forehead.

"What'd I do to get you, Cas?" Dean marvels out loud, and Cas leans back to frown at him, still holding his face in his wide hands.

"Quite a lot," Cas deadpans, and that sets Dean off laughing again.

He grabs Cas’s wrist to smack a kiss to his palm, and then to pull himself upright, his other hand blindly flipping the tape over and starting up the music side. As the opening Auoooghs of Gin Wigmore's Black Sheep starts up, Dean tugs Cas to dance with him to it, uncoordinated and unrestrained.

"Dancing wasn't in the plan" Cas notes dryly, but he lets Dean sing to his tie like it's a microphone anyway, and Dean can tell he's biting back a smile.

"Screw the plan! It's my birthday!"

"It's your birthday plan."

"Exactly, so I get to change it." Dean stops Cas arguing back by kissing him, which only works about 40% of the time, but this, it seems, is one of those times. "I love you, man."

"I love you too. Happy birthday, Dean."

The affection in Cas’s gaze warms Dean all the way down to the very tips of his toes. It is a happy birthday. Almost as good as all the ones after it.

#Dean's birthday #deancas #destiel #he's 45 💖😌#cawis creates #fluff

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eds6ngel · 8 months

Note

I'll read anything you write for the teacher au. But yeah I need to know how their first date was and how Alena reacts to it <333 They just deserve to be happy :')

thank you so much nonnie! and they do :)) i hope you enjoy ♡

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. mention of cleavage. swearing. food mentions. alcohol mentions. very fluffy. pet names. mutual pining. platonic stobin being my favourite duo in the world. rovickie being cute as always. alena being the biggest shipper on planet earth. it's just super cute and fluffy really! [2.8k].

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

If Steve was being honest with himself, he was scared shitless to go on a date with you.

He tried every possible way to come up with some crappy excuse to say he was busy, but Robin and Vickie egged him on to their heart’s content.

So, that’s where he was now. Robin and Vickie had picked up Alena just over an hour ago, huge purple backpack disproportionally sitting on her body, the seven-year-old toddling out the door with the couple to spend the night at theirs, Steve’s date with you ending past her bedtime.

He felt like he checked himself in the mirror over one hundred times, or maybe he did, he’d lost track at that point.

And once he arrived at your doorstep, he spent five minutes arranging every hair on his head in the rear view mirror, mumbling to himself, “Goddamn Farrah Fawcett, why aren’t you working?”

And from the other side of the door, you were just as nervous as him. Styled in a long, sequin-covered, dark blue dress that reached the floor, hair done up in a loose bun, you almost felt that you were overdressed.

But, with Steve taking you to Enzo’s, a very posh restaurant on the outskirts of Hawkins, you felt you had to look the part.

And thank God you did, because when you opened your front door to him, he was wearing a full-blown suit. White shirt, black tie, black blazer and trousers, he was the smartest you’d ever seen him.

“Jesus…” he mutters to himself, taking in how beautiful you looked. He thought you looked pretty in your modest, child-friendly uniform, but the dress you were wearing? The gorgeous slit up the leg and the v-neck that showed just the perfect about of cleavage? It was enough to make him fall head over heels in love.

You smile at him, replying with a giggle, “Hello to you too, handsome.”

“Shit, um… Yeah, you just… God, you look beautiful. Like… so beautiful.”

You place your hand to your chest, beaming back, “Thank you!” And that’s when he noticed your nails. The overall colour was a gorgeous cream, but the tips matched up perfectly with the colour of your dress. You had been planning this out all week.

“Um… shall we get going? Reservations at 7:30,” he asks.

You hum, “We shall. How far is Enzo’s?”

“Around thirty minutes. You good with that?”

He helps you into the car, making sure your dress doesn’t get caught or tangled, you replying, “I’m good with anything, Steve.”

The drive there had Steve panicking like crazy. Did he put his hand on your thigh? Or was that too soon? Maybe it was too soon. Hold your hand? No, both hands on the steering wheel, he doesn’t want to crash.

And if he wasn’t overthinking that enough, the choice of restaurant was freaking him out even more. Was it too formal? Did you want something more simplistic? Was it too much for a first date?

But, there was no time to worry as he turns left into the parking lot of the restaurant. After being a gentleman, taking your hand and helping you out of his car, you don’t seem to let go, letting your fingers interlace with his. His hands match the softness of when your lips first touched his, delicate and gentle.

“Hi. Um, two for Harrington?”

The waiting staff smiles, directly the two of them to a small, dainty table; covered with a red cloth decorated with golden flowers; in the back corner of the restaurant.

Steve pulls out your chair, you quickly thanking him as he sits opposite you, careful not to waste the woman’s time.

She lays the two menus on the table in front of you, “Here are your menus. Feel free to look at our wine list for the evening. Someone will be over in five to take your orders.”

You both thank her as you open the menus, Steve looking utterly confused at the very well described options.

“Okay, what the hell is an Ore— Orecchiette ai Cime di Rapa? Or a… Vermicelli Alla Puttane— Puttanesca?”

You giggle at him, “Pasta dishes, Steve. I can help you out if you want? I’m pretty accustomed to Italian names.”

He looks up at you in shock, “You speak Italian?”

You shake your head, sighing out, “I wish. I’ve been to Italy before though. So, I’ve done my research into the Italian names for pastas.”

He breathes out, smiling away, moving his hair out of his face with his hand, “I mean… I was thinking if you did, then…” He whistles, making you flirt back, “Better start taking some Italian language courses then.”

Before Steve gets the chance to reply, the waiter returns asking for your drinks. You tell her the fancy name of some simple red wine, Steve ordering the same, even if it wasn’t his drink of choice. He was trying to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

After explaining the different types of pastas they had on offer, he ends up ordering the Tagliatelle al Ragú Alla Bolognese, noticing the key words of foods he likes. You order the Pesto alla Genovese, deciding to add in some well-needed greens into your diet. It was very apparent that you and your roommate Amy had not been the healthiest as of late.

Once the waiter leaves, you lean your head on your hand, laughing to yourself as you ask, “God, this sounds so stupid… But, tell me about yourself, Steve. I mean, I sort of only know you as Alena’s dad, I would like to know about you as a whole.”

“Of course, yeah…” he pauses for a second, trying to make himself sound as interesting as possible. He doesn’t want to steer you away. But, what he doesn’t know is nothing could ever steer you away.

“I grew up here in Hawkins, went to Hawkins High and everything. Worked at an ice cream store and met my best friend Robin there, and then we moved onto working at a video rental store because the mall we worked at burnt down. Stayed there for a couple years until Alena was around two years old. Well, more than a couple… more like seven years,” he chuckles, “Then I moved onto being a bagger at Target, and have been ever since.” He smiles, before shrugging, “I know, I’m a pretty boring person with a pretty crappy job, but I am what I am.”

You reach out to rub your thumbs over the top of his hand, calming the boy, although he wasn’t presenting it on the outside. “I think you’re super interesting, Steve.”

He can’t help but let the smile creep onto his face, “Thank you. I’m sure your life is a lot more interesting that mine though.”

You wave your hand, brushing off his smooth compliment, “Oh please, you wish! Well, I grew up in Missouri, so not super far from here. Had a pretty average childhood, doing average childhood things. But, somehow, on a complete whim mind you, I got onto the education program at Perdue University. Still don’t know to this day how I did that, but nonetheless,” you smile, “Got my college degree and then worked at Hawkins Elementary. And, well… you know the rest of the story.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, “You wish, my ass. That is so much more interesting than mine!”

You open your mouth up in fake shock, “I guarantee you it is not! I’d rather work at Target than be studying 24/7.”

He snorts, “I’d rather do none.”

“Makes the two of us. I’m guessing you’re not much of an academic then?”

The mention of his academics bring back memories he forgot he even had stored in his brain. “You think an academic guy would be working as a bagger at Target?”

You hold your hands up in detest, “Hey, I’m not one to judge! It could’ve been your personal choice!”

“Definitely not.”

The rest of the date went amazingly well. A little too well for your liking. You were waiting for Steve to hate the way you eat, or for you to spill wine down your dress, or trip up on the way out of the restaurant. But, none of that happened. It went perfectly.

Your conversation points varied from favourite childhood memories, to favourite movies (which you judged immensely), to life goals and everything in between. And with each answer Steve gave, you fell more and more in love with him, as did he with you.

The car stops in front of your apartment block, Steve already getting out of the driver’s side and running around to your door, taking your hand and walking you up to the main entrance.

“I— Um, I had fun tonight,” he nervously says, looking down at his feet scuffing along the floor.

“I did too,” you smile, a small blush forming on your face as you grab his right hand, “And I was wondering if you’d like to go out again sometime.”

“Sure,” he blurts out a little too eagerly for his liking, “I’m pretty much free any night of the week. Just need to check with a friend if they can have Alena for the night first.”

“Of course,” you say, “Um… Do you have a pen or anything? I could write down my number and then you can let me know if whatever day we choose is fine? I was thinking maybe Wednesday? We can plan out the details on the phone.”

“Yeah, I do… At least I think. One second,” he pauses, sprinting back down the steps and to his car, leaning through the open window, you giggling at his rushed manner, obviously not wanting to leave you standing there alone for too long.

He returns, holding up a pen and smiling brightly, “Got it! Just, uh…” he pulls up the sleeve of his blazer, “Write it on my forearm.”

“Are you sure? Ink poisoning can be a dangerous thing.” Jesus, you were the cutest.

He brushes it off, “I’ll be fine. And if I do, I’ll happily let you nurse me back to health.”

With a messy scribble of numbers written in blue on the inside of his arm, a part of you was now etched into his skin. It felt like a connection, even if it would trickle right off in the shower he has later tonight.

“There you go!” you smile, clicking the pen off and passing it back to him. Biting your lip, you place a tender kiss to his left cheek, making the poor boy turn bright red. “Thank you for tonight, Steve. I’ll potentially see you Wednesday?”

“Yeah…” he breathes out, “Wednesday.”

And before he knows it, he’s left standing outside your apartment block with a blue pen loosely held in his hand, you leaving him to enter your home.

It was safe to say that you were not leaving his mind anytime soon.

With three raps at the door, it swung open, Alena grinning at him, bouncing on her toes as Robin and Vickie stand tall above her.

“Daddy!” she beams, body-slamming herself into his leg with full force, looking up to him with bright eyes, “How was the date?”

He couldn’t help but tell his daughter the minute he got home from the grocery store earlier that week about his date with you. Let’s just say that he had a very happy child zooming around his house for the next five hours, slightly regretting sharing the news when it took her an extra two hours to fall asleep.

“It went well, pumpkin! Miss. L/N was super nice. She’s a very lovely woman.”

It felt strange calling you by your last name, but he felt you should be the one to share that information with Alena, not sure how quickly you wanted to move past the barrier of being her former teacher.

“Yay!” she bounces, shaking his leg all over the place, him ruffling her hair to calm her down.

“So, did you two kiss?” Robin asks, wiggling her eyebrows at her best friend with a smirk plastered on her face.

“Ew, gross Robin!” he grimaces.

“What?” she defends herself, “You’ve already kissed before! It’s not like I’m way off the mark with that or anything.”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge between his brows, “No, Robin. She kissed my cheek, that’s it. You happy?”

She scrunches up her face, before blinking rapidly and shaking her head, “You straights are so weird. I kissed Vickie on the first date and we had our own apartment three months later.”

“That’s because you lesbians move exponentially fast!”

“Hey!” Vickie butts in, “I’m bisexual.”

“Fine,” Steve scoffs, the couple knowing that he was only joking with them, “You women… who love other women move exponentially fast!”

“I would just say the straights move exponentially slow…” Robin mumbles, scratching the back of her neck.

Steve shakes his head, “Anyway, we are planning another date next week, so I was wondering—”

“Yes,” both girls say in sync.

“You didn’t even know what I was gonna ask,” Steve asks with a look of confusion on his face.

“Yes, we can look after Alena,” Robin playfully rolls her eyes.

“There’s a second date?” Alena beams.

Steve chuckles, ruffling his daughter’s hair once again, “Yes, pumpkin. There’s a second date.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, clenching her fists together and jumping up and down. “I wanna know about this date, and the next date, and all the dates ever!”

“Of course sweetpea, I’ll tell you during the car ride home, okay?”

She simply giggles, squeezing her eyes tight and showing off all of her teeth, or at least the ones that were there. Her front two were currently missing, her reaching the age where her baby teeth had started to fall out, mysterious dollar notes appearing underneath her pillow every few weeks.

“Besides, I was going to ask because I thought Vickie had that work meeting next Wednesday?” Steve queries.

But, Vickie instantly brushes it off, “Yeah, but Robin can handle her for a few hours on her own, can’t you babe?”

“Of course my love, this little cupcake is the easiest to look after, unlike her father,” she looks up at Steve with a deadpan expression, him sticking his tongue out right back at her, the most age-appropriate gesture he could think of with his seven-year-old attached to his leg. “We’ve got her for the afternoon, overnight, two days, a whole month, however long you need.”

Steve replicates her deadpan expression as she shrugs, “What? If it took you two five years to suck each other’s faces off, I will raise your daughter for the rest of her childhood.”

“Robin!” he shouts at her, signalling down to his little girl, warning her of her more mature use of language.

“Sorry,” she holds her hands up, pursing her lips.

“What my beautiful wife is meaning to say is we will happily have your daughter over whenever you have a date with your girl,” Vickie steps in, taking a more adult approach, Robin’s immaturity still shining through after all these years.

“Thanks Vic,” he smiles, hoisting his daughter up onto his hip with an overexaggerated grunt, pretending she is much heavier than she is, making her giggle, “Right, I better get this toothache home, I’ll see you guys on Wednesday!” He begins to turn around, before looking back and pointing to Vickie, “And good luck with that meeting!”

“Thanks Steve! See you on Wednesday!” she waves at him, Robin smirking and yelling at the top of her lungs, “Bye dingus!”

He shakes his head as he opens the car door, placing Alena down in her car-seat as he makes his way around to the driver’s side. He barely makes it two inches off of Robin and Vickie’s driveway before Alena shouts, “Tell me everything!”

“All right, all right,” he replies, trying not to get too scared by his daughter’s outburst, “Let me get onto the road first and then I’ll give you every last detail, okay?”

“Okay!” she giggles, kicking her feet.

And not only did the questions last the car ride home, but they continued for the rest of the day. Alena wanted to know absolutely everything that went down, from the minute he saw you to the minute he bid farewell. But, he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. It was you after all, and even if it was to his seven-year-old daughter, he would talk about you for the rest of his life.

hope you enjoyed!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 let me know in the comments if you want to be added/removed from the series spinoffs!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington drabble #dad!steve harrington #singledad!steve harrington #stranger things #eds6ngel

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miraclesabound · 9 months

Text

All of This is Temporary

Summary: What should have been Mikey and Reader's special night goes sideways, and unfortunately, it never gets fixed.

Pairing: Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader, pre-relationship

Notes: This idea of Mikey and his friend getting thrown out of some VIP event came to me in a dream (and the music cue as well). A surprise cameo from one of my other favorite characters from a different show, because he showed up in the dream too. Also on AO3.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Bear, canon-typical language, classism, unrequited (?) love, addiction themes, tragic ending (mention of Mikey's suicide)

Tags: @pettyprocrastination, @cinewhore, @phoenixhalliwell, @nolita-fairytale

NOVEMBER 2021

The movie that Mikey won tickets for is at Doc Films , and given the place's history, you and Mikey are almost more dressed for an opera than a movie. He's done out in an old but clean tux, bow tie and cummerbund included - and you bought yourself a silver dress with matching clutch. You may not be a couple, but you take internal satisfaction in knowing how good you two look together right now.

The main thing that's important to you is that, at least from what you can tell, Mikey is fully sober this evening. You know you're not his keeper, but you feel some pride on his behalf - whatever he's strugging with, he's made the effort for you tonight, and that warms your heart.

However, that warmth sours in your stomach when you actually get to the theater. When you and Mikey walk in, it's clear that this is a much smaller event than you thought - and that you and Mikey are WILDLY overdressed. Of the maybe twenty total people there, the only other person dressed formally is a gruff-looking man whose hair is almost as dark as Mikey's is. In his case, he's wearing a strikingly modern all-black suit.

Mikey smiles when he sees the other man and gives him a hearty handshake. "Roy fuckin' Kent! What brings ya this way?"

Roy shrugs, but he accepts Mikey's handshake just the same. "Mikey Berzatto, ya old dog - just takin' some travel time - Coach Lasso fuckin' insisted... And who's this, then?"

Mikey introduces you, explaining that Roy had visited The Beef by accident a few years back during an exhibition tour in the States. "You better come in for a couple sandwiches tomorrow for lunch, ya hear me?" he tells Roy. "Won't take no for an answer!"

"Wouldn't miss it," Roy says. You and Mikey take your seats on Roy's other side.

A woman a few seats away chimes in with: "Oh, you two look so nice - is that your tux?" You don't care for the look of her - she comes across like someone trying to draw Mikey's sister Natalie from a mirror image only.

You want to believe that she's just being nice, but something about her tone is venomous, and Mikey must feel the same way. His response is icy. " 'Course it's mine, why wouldn't it be?"

"You're Michael Berzatto, right?"

"Yeah?"

"My cousins love your shop - I guess I'm just wondering why a sandwich shop owner would need to buy a tux instead of renting one; that's all."

If you didn't know better, you'd think she was trying to call you and Mikey tacky. Apparently Roy feels the same way, because he leans over towards her and says, "Oi, Pam, knock it off, yeah? Movie's startin'."

"Pam..." you think to yourself. "Why does that name sound familiar?" The lights turn off, and you smile to yourself when you hear a familiar musical sting playing for the movie intro.

"Don't call me by my name...all of this is temporary..."

You know this song very well, and you can't help but hum along. To your pleasant surprise, you swear that Roy is humming too. Who knew such a brash guy liked Halsey? Neither of you notice Mikey staring at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Suddenly the lights come up, and that woman who looks like Natalie's evil twin is standing in front of you, a sickening smile on her face. "Miss, you're going to have to leave," she tells you. "This is an exclusive event, and you're causing a disturbance."

Roy, God bless the man, speaks up for you - and thank goodness, because you feel like you're going to vaporize from embarrassment. "Pam, it's nothin', I was humming too."

"You're a VIP, Roy, and she isn't. It's my movie, and if I want her and her ridiculous disco ball of a dress out of here, that's my prerogative." Shit, you realize. This is Pam Stratford, the writer that Mikey enjoys so much. No wonder he was excited to get these tickets...

Mikey pulls you into his side - almost as if he expects Pam to take a swing at you. "Listen, I've always liked your work, but you don't get to talk to my g- - my friend like that - we got our tickets fair and square."

You can see that flash in Mikey's eyes that means either a bender or a fight is coming, and you don't want to see him arrested. Pam seems like the type to call the police in faster than they're needed. Pushing lightly against his chest, you say "Bear, it's ok, I'll just go..."

"Then I'm leavin' too," he says. "Roy, I'll catch ya tomorrow - Pam? You can go fuck yourself for bein' a snobby bitch." The silence is deafening as you two leave the theater, but the outraged look on Pam's face is almost worth it.

You shudder as you step out into the night air, even with Mikey holding you and blasting like a furnace. "It's cold - take me home?"

"Yeah, let's get you back before you freeze."

The train ride back to your neighborhood is quiet, and it's not until the two of you are walking up to your stoop that Mikey says, "Pam was wrong - you look gorgeous in that dress, and that's God's honest truth."

You smile at him. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

"Do we...wanna try this again some other time?" he asks, holding your purse for you as you dig out your keys. "Maybe not a movie, but some other excuse to dress up?"

"I'd like that, Bear," you agree. "Let's aim for after Christmas - I know how nutty things get for you during December."

"Then it's a date?" Mikey asks. He doesn't mean to put you on the spot, but if you don't feel the same way he does, he'd rather know now.

Your smile grows even wider. "It's a date - we'll nail down details after New Years." With a sudden burst of bravery, you hug him tight and kiss his cheek. "G'night, my bear."

Unfortunately, the holidays madness makes Mikey spiral in a bad way, and he never texts you back about the date. In fact, you don't realize as you turn to open your door that this will be the last time you see him alive.

#mikey berzatto #mike berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #angst and tragedy #ships passing in the night #mikey the bear

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cerise-on-top · 5 months

Note

Could I possibly request Fem!Reader x Laswel where Reader takes Laswel home for the holidays, leaving Laswel a bit of an anxious mess at meeting readers family, but also being endeared by the domesticity of the small holiday party, ending with the pair sitting outside on the porch as the first snow begins to fall?

It's a little cliché but I think it'd be a cute idea ♡

It's very cliché, but not to worry, I made the idea even more cliché and sweet and fluffy by adding some headcanons of my own! It makes me happy to hear there are some Laswell enjoyers out there! I hope you like this, it's also more of a fic than anything else, but it's kind of rushed because I have work again tomorrow ^^; Sorry about that! But thank you for the lovely idea, I was very happy to write that! :D

Laswell Spending the Holidays with Reader and Her Family

It wasn’t an issue, she told herself. Kate had been on missions that relied on her expertise, else the world was going to shatter like glass. There was no anxiety there, she had nothing to fear. If the world was going to end, she knew the right people to call to save it after all. Nothing was bigger than her, nothing could best her, she has been through hell and back several times. And yet, standing in front of the door to your parent’s house, she went through every sort of anxiety there was. Would your parents like her? Was she dressed too casually for the occasion or was she overdressed? Would they accept a lesbian into their home? It was the last question that would prove to be the biggest problem. Normally something like this wouldn’t matter to her, but you were close with your family, Kate had to make sure this would work.

“You ready, Kate?” You looked so adorable in your ear muffs, puffy white smoking forming whenever you exhaled. The scarf you wore suited you well, adorning your lovely jacket. The snow hadn’t fallen just yet, but it was cold regardless. Kate couldn’t help but stare for a second, your big, bright eyes looking back at her with such glee, reassuring her that everything was going to be alright. A small squeeze to her hand was all it took before Kate gave you a warm smile herself. Maybe meeting your family wasn’t such a bad thing after all, you were there too.

“Of course I am. Ready when you are.” And thus you rang the doorbell. A normal sound one would hear just about anywhere. It was then that Kate, for the first time that evening, noticed the quiet Christmas carols playing in the background. The door, too, was covered in decoration. Green and red, a Christmas wreath with an angel on it. A lovely sight. Kate may not have been religious, but it was a nice thought, knowing someone was looking down at you, making sure you were alright. A task she, too, was used to. But it didn’t matter too much, soon enough, the door was opened, revealing a man. He seemed friendly enough, joyful upon seeing you, immediately taking you into his arms.

You didn’t seem too displeased upon seeing him either. Given your difference in age, it must have been your father. A tight hug, sentimental greetings and a kiss to the forehead, everything seemed jolly in that moment.

“Who is it?”

A feminine voice called out. Her question was left unanswered for the most part, her husband giving her no response. He was preoccupied, busy with looking at his daughter he hadn’t seen in a long time. Yet, soon enough, Kate’s anxiety returned as he looked at her. It was dark already, the only reliable source of light coming from the inside. Despite it being somewhat hard to make out his expression, he didn’t seem displeased upon seeing her. “You must be Kate, then? Our girl has told us so much about you. Please, come in! It’s so nice to make your acquaintance!” He let the two of you in. Maybe meeting your family wasn’t such a bad experience after all. They seemed nice. “Honey, it’s y/n and Kate!”

The music inside was something one would, most likely, only hear within a proper and cliched Christmas movie. Even the decoration was a bit much. Tiny trees, underneath them small gifts, an advent wreath with all four candles lit and, of course, a fully decorated Christmas tree, full sized. It had some white decoration on it as well, likely resembling snow to give it even more holiday spirit. From small chocolate umbrellas to windrings, it was all there. Another small angel on the tree, a pretty little golden star on its top. It was the way anyone would expect a Christmas tree to look like. And yet, it felt cozy. Nothing wrong with having the spirit, Kate just wasn’t used to it in the slightest. It had been a while since she was able to celebrate any holiday like that.

Among the pretty lights was another figure that came into view. This one was shorter than your father, likely having been your mother. She stopped for a moment before going in for you as well, giving you a tight hug. Loving words came from her, too. How much she missed you, hoping you were doing well. how you should come visit them more often. How nice, your parents really loved you, no matter what. It warmed her heart even more so than the nicely heated room. Looking around as you and your mother exchanged your greetings, she spotted a big pretzel on the table, filled with all sorts of goodies. Cheese, ham, sausage mayonnaise, tuna, it all seemed to be there.

“Looking forward to the pretzel already, are we?” Your mother joked as she looked at her. The food did look delectable, even if that wasn’t exactly what Kate was looking forward to the most.

Even if she wanted to, Kate couldn’t fight the smile on her face. It was just so domestic, it was a home with a loving family, a lovely daughter and it seemed as though, despite two women being in love, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You and Kate being together, as long as you were bound by love and joy throughout it all, wasn’t the issue. Perhaps the only issue would have been how much Kate could eat of the pretzel before being too full for another bite. “It looks very delicious ma’am. Did you make it yourself? Or did you order it from the bakery nearby?”

“No need for such formalities. As long as you make y/n happy and take care of her, you’re part of our family. You really don’t have to be that formal with either of us.” Such a thing had been a long time from then and there as well, with most informalities having been left behind in the past. You were just about one of the only more recent exceptions, even if you had known each other for several years. Always, Kate had to be formal, if just to delay another conflict for a few days to make sure help would arrive at the right time. She was family to your mother already, even if she had never met either of your parents. “I’m just glad my daughter has finally found someone she was willing to settle with. She had had a partner before, but that did not go as planned.”

“Mom, for the love of everything that is good and holy, please don’t bring up the past. That was an eternity ago and it’s so shameful!” You sounded indignant upon hearing your mother make such a comment. Sweet and kind you, hiding things from the past, getting embarrassed upon hearing your lovely mother bring them up. “Kate, don’t listen to her, she’s lying to you! Straight up! Through her teeth! Nothing ever happened, everything was always good and always will be!” You crossed your arms, glaring at your mother as you protested. As long as everything was good and alright in the present, that’s all that mattered. Kate was going to make sure it would stay that way too.

Your mother simply chuckled, giving Kate a short but sweet hug, exchanging the pleasantries of giving each other their first names. “Kate, if y/n is ever any trouble tell me and I’ll make sure she’ll learn her lesson.”

“Mom! Stop it!”

“It’s lovely to have you with us, thank you so much for coming. Thank you for taking care of y/n, you know how it is with parents, but you seem like such a nice lady. Please continue to take good care of her, we just want what’s best for her.”

Even as you covered your face with one hand, even as you silently muttered curses under your breath, even as you still smiled as though you had received an expensive gift you had been wanting for years, Kate couldn’t help but laugh a bit. You were flustered beyond compare, no matter how much she wanted to say something about it, maybe tease you about your adorable mannerisms, your quirks, your traits, she decided against it, simply giving you a bright smile instead.

“Mom, if I’m going to be bullied here then Kate and I are going to take our leave and celebrate Christmas elsewhere!” An empty threat, everyone involved knew that much. Even in the heat of your embarrassment, your family did not stop teasing you, your father quipping in here and there as well. Kate hadn’t experienced something like this in a long time, getting to sit back and watch some playful banter. With your father distracting you this time, with your mother coming up to Kate, asking her if she wanted to hear some stories of gone-by times with you being so young, small and ready to take on the world, Kate forgot she was ever even anxious to meet your parents to begin with.

It was your father who would finally begin the tradition, aside from the pretzel, calling your mother and Kate over to the Christmas tree. A few of the presents had already been placed there. Even so, before forgetting, Kate excused herself, rushing to the car in order to get the last one. It was that evening or never.

She had always been a calm person, never letting anything get to her head. When her childhood crush told her how disgusting she was, when her parents belittled her and told her she could change still, when her ex wife left her for reasons she didn’t want to believe, it hurt. But not for long. Every time someone let her down, every time someone hurt her, she knew she was one of the only people she could rely on. God helps those who help themselves. There was no God to her, she had achieved everything on her own. But this time she will have to rely on someone else entirely. Whatever you did, it would shape her future. And thus, she grabbed the box meant for you and headed back inside.

You seemed so cheerful, looking at the jacket your parents bought for you. And, in turn, you parents also looked happy with their presents. Naturally, getting along with them as well as you did, you knew what to get them, even in their later years. It was, all round, just a happy evening, for everyone involved it seemed. Steadying her breath for a second, just as your father turned off the lights, leaving nothing but the Christmas lights on, she stood still, gripping the box tightly. Kate hoped you would like the present she got for you. Yes, you had been with each other for years, but this time was different.

After having taken off the jacket, putting it over one of the chairs nearby, you turned to Kate, eyeing the box she was holding. “Hey, what’s that? Can I see?”

“I’ll let you see it in just a second, dear, alright? Could you please come closer to the tree?”

Your spirit guided you to the location Kate wanted you to be in: Standing next to the tree, illuminated by the red and green lights. Everything else was dark. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, this was perfect. And thus, having taken another deep breath, despite her age, Kate got down on one knee, opening the box so your curious soul could see its contents. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

With you clasping your hands over your mouth, your mother and father gasping as they held onto each other, with Kate watching you closely as the tears started brimming in your eyes. The lights were reflected so beautifully in your eyes, dancing across, giving them the most vibrant colors in the universe. But you were stunned into silence, removing your hands only to mouth some words that could never reach Kate in the state you were in. The Christmas charm seemed to have worked, you were out of your mind with joy, but unable to say anything about it.

A sob escaped you as you slung your arms around Kate, tightly holding onto her. You weren’t going to lose her, not that easily anymore, you were both here to stay. “Yes! Fuck, Kate! Of course I’m going to marry you! I love you! I love you so much, you have no idea!!” Your tears stained the blouse she chose for the evening, but it didn’t matter. All Kate wanted was to hold you, love you, cherish you, through thick and thin, through the good and the bad. All she wanted was to spend the rest of her days with you and no one else. Kate got her present, the biggest one she could have ever wished for: Your “yes”.

Your parents were also quiet for a moment, allowing you to cry into Kate’s shoulder. But from what she could see, they were shocked, but happy for their girl. She was going to get married after so many years. And that to the woman of her dreams she never really could shut up about whenever they were talking. It was a lovely sight. Soon enough, you were both officially going to be a part of each other’s family, bearing each other’s names so no one would ever mistake you as anything else but each other’s wife.

You bit back a sob, your voice still cracking as you asked Kate a small favor: “Can we please go outside for a bit? I think I need a moment here.”

“Of course, anything for you.” Kate handed you your new jacket before she grabbed her own. Naturally, as she wanted it to be, you led the way to the backyard, holding Kate’s hand. Despite it being dark, despite the only light coming from other Christmas decorations and you not having been here in a while, you found a bench in the middle of the small piece of land immediately. The two of you sat down, Kate having slung an arm over you as you kept sobbing for another moment. Nothing could have prepared her for you being so over the moon to hear the big question, but she wasn’t complaining.

It took you another minute or two to finally compose yourself, but you got there eventually. “You know, I always thought I was never going to find someone, preferring girls over guys and all. Age wise, you and I aren’t that far apart either, so you know how long I’ve been carrying that thought, that belief, with me now. But then I found you and…” You went quiet again for another second. Kate rubbed your back, hoping it would soothe you a bit. “...and now this. Kate, you don’t know how happy I am right now. To think that someone would think me, of all people, to be worth loving. To be worth marrying. You’re something else.” You grabbed her hands so tenderly, giving them a gentle squeeze as you looked into her eyes. “Thank you so much, for everything. I am so happy, so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Y/N, as you know, I’ve been through a lot. I’ve seen the best and worst of humanity, but nothing could ever best you. I would go through this entire hell again and again, if just to spend another moment with you. Getting to spend the rest of eternity with you is more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you for allowing me to be by your side.”

Just as you leaned in, sealing this beautiful evening with a kiss, something small landed on Kate’s nose. You giggled a bit, looking to the sky for a moment, then back at your soon-to-be wife. “Even the sky is weeping with joy right now. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Of course it is. Anyone would be happy for us right now, dear.”

Interrupted by the small snowflake, you gave it no mind, placing a small, tender kiss on Kate’s lips as you were. The snow looked beautiful in her hair. Winter didn’t seem so dreadful and cold anymore, it was a hopeful time you could remember for more than just seeing a part of your family. Another part was right there with you, forever and always, after all.

#cod #cod x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #fem!reader #petition to make Laswell real so us Laswell lovers can give her a kiss on the cheek #I never would have thought I'd be into older women but I am swooning again #it's sort of become a habit of mine to write something like a fic for the girls #I need to change that but every time I look at one of them I am overcome with love and adoration and the desire to write as much as I can #I need to go back to writing HCs but that's likely only going to happen when writing for the guys and/or if there's several characters #anyway the girls are so underappreciated in this fandom I am so happy to have found the people willing to enjoy my silly writing about them #also English is not my first language so I'm really sorry for any mistakes #I have a hard time remembering the difference between looking down on and looking down at sb

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