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ilici · 3 years

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that’s my sister.

Summary: Sapnap and Dream go to visit George in the UK when they go out clubbing, Sapnap has a one night stand with someone he thought looked familiar.

(There will be a male version to this one soon !)

NSFW MINORS DNI

Warnings: degrading, choking, oral (giving), sir kink, thigh riding.

Word Count: 2498

Sapnap leaned back in the passenger seat, and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t dirty up the rental car.” Dream spoke up, glancing over at Sapnap before he turned his attention back to the road. Sapnap only scoffed, but kept his feet propped up. “I am aching Dream, we’ve been in every type of vehicle you can think of in the past 12 hours.” Sapnap whined, wanted to finally be able to relax. “Shut up, I’ve drove two of those hours, and the rest was on an airplane where you slept the entire time.” Dream said, shaking his head at his friends whinny behavior. “Yeah? So what? I was still in a vehicle.” He said, shaking his head, and looked at the passing buildings.

“How long do we have left till we even get to George’s house?” He asked, and Dream looked down at his phone that was on his lap giving him the directions. “About ten minutes.” He confirmed, and Sapnap felt relieved he only had to be inside the car for ten more minutes. “Thank God.” He mumbled, and looked over at him, “Didn’t George recently move out of his mom’s house and into his own place?” He asked, and Dream nodded. “Yeah, if he was still living with his mom we would've done been there 20 minutes ago.” He admitted, and Sapnap mentally cussed George out. “Does George live alone?” He asked and Dream shrugged, “He’s mentioned he has a sister that comes and visits a lot, so I would assume so.”

After a long ten minute drive, they pulled up to a gated house. “He seriously has a gate?” Sapnap said, and Dream looked at him, “Our house has a gate dumbass.” He said, and Sapnap laughed, “True true.” He nodded his head, as the gate opened for them. “He must’ve seen us on his camera or something.” Dream muttered under his breath as he drove up the driveway. “This house is huge holy shit.” Sapnap said, gawking at the house. “Well yeah, Brighton has better houses than Florida.” Dream said as if it were obvious, “It’s like a whole three stories.” He said, as they parked. George’s figure came into view and he excitedly waved at them. “Hey guys!” George said as he walked to the rental car, planning to help with their luggage. “Hey George.” Sapnap said, as he grabbed his suitcase and some of his duffle bags. Dream greeted George with a hug, and grinned. “I’ll show you two to your rooms.” George said, grabbing what was left.

As the three walked in, Dream and Sapnap were smacked with the smell of French toast. “Did you cook?” Dream asked bewildered, “No, my sister made food for us before she left to go home.” George explained, and the other two nodded. “She seems sweet.” Sapnap said, and Dream nodded in agreement, “She has her moments like every sibling would.” He explained, and Dream mentally agreed thinking back to his sisters. “Sapnap your room is on the second floor and to the right, Dream yours is on the third floor and to the left.” He informed them, and Sapnap instantly looked at George, “Why can’t I be on the third floor?” He asked, and George stared at him blankly, “Because I’d prefer you fall down two sets of stairs then three.” Dream laughed at this and Sapnap attempted to flip him off, straining his arm in the process from all the weight.

Walking up the stairs and into his designated room, he placed everything down and took in the room. “What the..” He whispered, seeing how clean everything was. The room was a dark grey, and had a huge window as a wall on his right, letting him see the clear vision of beautiful mountains. He found himself staring at the scenery, it took his breath away, “Sapnap?” George asked waving a hand in front of Sapnap. Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked repeatedly and looked over to George, “Yeah?” He asked, and George scoffed. “I've been calling your name for the longest time.” He said waving his arms about, exaggerating. “Yeah yeah whatever.” Sapnap said, waving him off. “Get dressed, we are going to eat then I’m taking you to the club because Dream said you needed to loosen up from all the traveling.” He said, shocked that Sapnap wasn’t jet lagged.

Sapnap nodded and practically pushed George out of the room. Getting dressed, he put on black jeans, a corpse hoodie he received from Corpse himself with a note that said, “I apologize for not knowing you.” Slipping on his shoes, he walked out, not really caring about his appearance too much since he never really mattered to him in the first place. As they all finished eating, it was nearing 8 pm. Getting into the car, Dream made sure George didn’t drive, especially since it was night time. “Just because you got your license a month ago, doesn't mean I will trust you.” Dream said, as George sulked in the passenger side. Sapnap just looked at the scenery as they drove to the club. Feeling the car come to a halt, Sapnap looked up and he grinned, “I am going to get so wasted. I am so glad the age limit is different in the UK.” Sapnap said, and Dream laughed, “You turned 20 like two weeks ago, you’re crazy.” He said shaking his head as everyone got out.

After 4 cosmo’s Sapnap was wasted, and was now on the dance floor as Dream was drinking nothing for being the designated driver. “I hate babysitting.” Dream said, looking at George who shrugged, since he didn’t really like alcohol that much. “At least someone is having fun.” George mumbled, trying to find Sapnap in the mass amount of people. Without any luck, neither of them spotted him. Sapnap on the other hand, was now dancing with a girl who was wearing a rose gold satin dress. Her features seemed similar but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Her E/C and H/C was what threw him off, everything else seemed like deja vu.

Her pale smooth skin, and her full plump lips, that he was dying to kiss so badly. Grabbing her hips, the two were grinding on each other. He loved the way her dress clung to her curves, “You’re beautiful.” He whispered into her ear, and the girl blushed. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He asked, and she nodded, “I’m going to go tell my friends that I am leaving. My place or yours? I live with my friends, so if you live alone your place is the better option for more privacy.” He said, slurring his words a tad. “My place.” She finally spoke, and her voice sounded silky if even possible. It sounded gorgeous, grinning he lightly spanked her ass as he told her to wait for him outside. Walking in the direction of his friends, Sapnap saw them. “I’m going with a girl, you two can go home.” He said, and the other two just shot up ready to leave.

Sapnap rushed outside, calling an uber as he walked out. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing her hand, the two stumbling about. Both were drunk, but they knew what they were doing. When the uber arrived, the girl told him her address and Sapnap couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He was either touching her thighs, or subtly kissing her neck, he felt intoxicated by her. Y/N on the other hand was growing frustrated at the touches, her sexual frustration was getting to her. “Fuck this.” She mumbled, and climbed over to straddle Sapnap, ordering the uber driver to keep his eyes on the road. “God you’re so hot.” Sapnap whispered to her, and Y/N crashed her lips on his, the two feeling intoxicated from each other.

Pulling away, Sapnap groaned, “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol in my system, but I could get drunk off your lips.” He said, biting her bottom lip and tugged on it. Giggling Y/N shook her head, and gasped when she felt her hips being rocked. Leaning her head back, she bit her bottom lip holding in a moan as she let Sapnap guide her hips on his thigh. “Someone likes thigh riding, don’t they?” He teased, and Y/N whined nodding her head too embarrassed to say anything. The fact that the uber driver could hear and see everything made her so much more excited. Speeding up his movements, Sapnap flexed his thigh and Y/N let a moan slip out. “Fuck that was hot.” He said watching her, as her face contorted into one of pleasure as she was growing close.

Speeding up once more, he pushed his leg up, and that’s what set her off. Letting out a strand of curses, she felt herself cum. Sapnap watched the sight in front of him, watching her unravel was the prettiest sight ever. Hearing a throat being cleared, the two looked to the front, and noticed they were now at her house. Y/N mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ as the two stumbled out of the car. Y/N paid the uber driver double since he had to witness everything. “Come on doll.” Sapnap said, picking her up and placed her down once they made it to her front door. Fumbling with her keys, she quickly unlocked the door. The two rushed in and in a matter of seconds, Y/N was shoved against the door, Sapnap kissing her deeply and passionately. “Off now.” He mumbled against her lips, as he unzipped her dress skillfully. Pulling away, Y/N let the dress fall to her ankles. Sapnap looked her body up and down hungrily, the matching soft pink lace undergarments made him groan.

“I can’t even wait to get into your room. I am going to fuck you, right here, right now. Understood?” He said, reaching up grabbing her neck as Y/N whimpered nodding her head. “Since I let you have your moment in the car, you’re gonna give me a reward.” He said pushing her down by the throat and Y/N licked her lips in anticipation. Sapnap eagerly took off his hoodie and shirt, throwing it across the living room. “You do it.” He said, motioning for her to unzip his pants. Nodding, she started unzipping his pants, and unbuttoned them. “Use your words doll.” He said, caressing her jawline, and Y/N bit her bottom lip, “Yes sir.” She said, and Sapnap smirked, “Good girl.” He said, and he hissed a bit when he felt the cool air hit his now free dick. Y/N looked at his dick, it was long and thick. She didn’t know if it was going to be able to fit.

“Go on.” He urged her, and Y/N nodded snapping out of her trance. Grabbing the base of his dick, she gave it a long lick and Sapnap groaned leaning his head back at the sensation. Grabbing her hair, he made it into a messy ponytail. Slowly she licked the precum off the tip, and finally wrapped her lips around his dick. Bobbing her head slowly, Sapnap let out a small moan, as he looked down at the beautiful girl. “Eyes on me doll.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with her innocent looking eyes, which made him want to destroy her right then and there. Not wanting to waste time, he started thrusting into her mouth. Y/N on the other hand, was special as she had no gag reflex. This; however, caught Sapnap off guard completely. “God such a good little slut you are for me.” He said, biting his bottom lip.

He was amazed by her even more, she let him face fuck her, and he felt himself growing close to his climax. Shoving his dick down her throat as he felt himself cum, he slowly pulled out of her mouth. “Swallow.” He ordered, and she obediently swallowed. Picking her up quickly he shoved her against the wall, pulling her underwear down. “Are you ready Doll?” He asked, and Y/N eagerly nodded her head. “I’m ready please just fuck me.” She whined out, and Sapnap quickly thrusted into her not giving her time to adjust. Y/N let out a strangled moan, as he wrapped his hand around her throat again. “God you’re so tight.” He groaned out, thrusting up into her roughly. Y/N was a moaning mess, she kept trying to hold in her moans, but they kept escaping no matter what. Feeling herself growing close once again, Sapnap smirked, “Cum on my dick Doll.” He whispered in her ear, leaning down to add hickeys on her neck.

The way Y/N’s body was so pale and empty, it was as if she was an empty canvas waiting to be painted on. So he took it upon himself to make sure she had hickeys every where he could reach. Feeling her clench around him, he realized she had came. Pulling out Sapnap felt himself cum, and watched as it landed on her ass. Groaning at the sight, he scooped some of it up on his fingers and demanded her to lick his fingers clean. Y/N soon felt herself being picked up, and a wet substance being rubbed on her body. She assumed it was a wet washcloth, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ she felt her upper body being covered by an oversized hoodie. Sapnap sat her on the bed, and helped her put on new underwear, he slipped on his own underwear and laid in bed. The two quickly fell asleep.

“What the hell?” Sapnap heard, and he groaned, as he slowly opened his eyes. Looking around, he finally remembered where he was. Looking over he saw her still peacefully sleeping. Growing confused at the voice, he looked around and saw nothing. Looking over he noticed the beautiful stranger also had a window for a wall showing a beautiful forest instead. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning, and the girl beside of him. Slowly getting up, he walked downstairs, hearing hushed voices. “Sapnap?” He heard, and Sapnap whipped around to see a red face George, and a hysterical Dream. “I told you that was his shirt!” Dream said in between laughs. George paid no mind to him as he pointed a finger at Sapnap, “You slept with my twin sister?!” George yelled, and Sapnap chuckled. “So that’s who she reminded me of.” He said, and everyone went quiet when they heard soft pattering of feet walking down the stairs. Sapnap’s heart melted at the sight of Y/N tiredly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “George?” She asked, and George visibly calmed at her voice, “Y/N you slept with my best friend Sapnap?” George asked, and the two looked at each other. “Y/N.” “Sapnap.” The two said at the same time, finally knowing their names.

#sapnap #sapnap imagine #sapnap x reader #mcyt smut #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dreamsmp

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

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He’s Lost - Bakugou Katsuki - Part 1

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings - Angst, Physical Harm, Cursing, accused Cheating, Katsuki’s insecurities

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: This is my first writing piece but this has been stuck in my mind since v-day is coming up so I had to get it out. Plz enjoy!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Y/N is so busy around Valentine’s, her lack of attention towards her Pomeranian is causing him to freak out and do the worst of the worst

Love is in the air! The birds are singing, The breeze is blowing, the setting sun is shining, and the explosive teen is.....well, bruting.

Can you blame him though? Y/N’s been a little distant ever since February started. Even right now, instead of enjoying their time together in a quiet park, she’s staring down at her phone doing who knows what.

Why? Was he not good enough? Has she gotten tired of him? They’ve only been together for a little over a year. Is she talking to someon- no. Katsuki stopped himself from thinking like that. There’s no way his precious teddy bear would ever do that. Not only that, he was the best there is. Why would she even try to go?

“You dumbass. You’re missing this.” Bakugou sighed. “Huh? What? Missing what?” Y/N looked around looking for whatever “this” was until Bakugou grabbed her chin to force her to look him in the eyes. “THIS DUMBASS! US! You’re so focused on that dumb phone. Jeez, can’t a guy just get his girl’s attention.” Bakugou said dramatically.

It wasn’t that Y/N wasn’t giving him attention, it’s that it wasn’t the same. Yea she right there snuggled into his arm. And yea she was petting his hair just the way he liked. And YES, she was peppering his face with kisses from time to time. But it all felt off? Like only half her energy was put into the love and affection.

“Suki, aren’t u being a little dramatic. I’m right here with you baby. I’m sorry if I’ve been a little distracted. Come here dummy.” And as Y/N pulls Bakugou in for a tighter hug all he can do is release a “hmph” while falling into it...until her phone went (ding!) once again. And she went to check it. Once again.

Bakugou was getting tired so he got up and suggested they’d head back to UA. Y/N only got up and began to walk beside him, hand in hand, while still checking her phone time to time. And Bakugou was getting sick of it

*Wtf is she doing on that piece of junk? What could be so important she would half ass our entire evening together? .....Could she possibly be talking to someone else?............no.* Bakugou let those negative thoughts die down as they continued their journey back.

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A few days later

“COME ON!!” Bakugou screamed as he realeased a blast towards Kirishima. When Bakugou invited him to train, The red head initially thought it was to ...you know..TRAIN. But after some time, the blonde’s best friend began to see the bigger picture.

“Dude. What’s up with you man? We always go full on during training, but it’s not even like you’re trying to hit me. It feels like you’re just taking your anger out on me.” Kirishima said.

“Congrats on noticing shitty hair, I’m glad somebody’s noticing my damn mood.” Weirded out by his friend’s unusual openness, the red head continued to ask.

“So what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“But you just-“

“NOPE!”

Bakugou exclaimed as he began to gather his stuff to leave the training area. “BAKUGOU!” Kiri shouted. “WHAT!” “.......it’s Y/N isn’t it?”

Upon hearing that, the blonde turned to look at his best friend with this sad puppy dog look. And man, if Katsuki had doggy ears, everyone would see how low they’d go. His best friend didn’t need to see it though, he could tell those ears would be 6 ft under if they were actually there bc there’s nothing hiding Katsuki’s vulnerability when it comes to Y/N. As the two best friends go to sit on the bleachers, Bakugou takes a deep breath before saying his thoughts.

“I think Y/N is cheating on me.”

“................HUH???!!!!”

Kirishima went from “caring and considerate” to “WHATDIDHESAYYY” in seconds. Y/N L/N?? Cheating?? Ok. Y/N was one fiesty girl, and she definitely had sass, power, attitude, and a little mischief, but she also had kindness, compassion, consideration, and honesty flowing though her. Not to mention extreme loyalty. There’s no way.

“Look man, with all due respect, I think you’ve finally lost it.” The red head laughed. “I’m being serious shitty hair.” The blonde stated. “She’s been so distracted lately. She’s always with me but it’s like her mind is also somewhere else. And not to mention that damn phone she’s always on now. She can’t go 30 minutes without checking it at least twice. And not only that, when she does leave to do whatever, she’s gone for hours at a time! What’s a guy supposed to think with all of that?! I mean it’d make sense if she wanted to leave. I get it, I can get loud, and yell, and I get angry a lot but.. she knows I never mean it, right? I call her a dumbass like i do everyone else...ugh but she isn’t just everyone else, she’s my girlfriend and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.....SO WHY TF IS SHE CHEATIN-“ before the blonde could continue, his best friend cut him off.

“BAKUGOU” “WHAT??!!” “....talk to her.” Kirishima said. “What?” Bakugou asked. Kirishima continued. “Cheating is a real sensitive topic in a relationship. I don’t wanna give my opinion on something that could ruin something amazing. C’mon man, we both know Y/N isn’t like that but who am I to tell you what to do. I wanna help, I do, but I think it’s best if you go to her with all this. Honestly though, if you asked me, Y/N would be the last person I’d ever think of when it came to cheating on ANYTHING. Especially the guy she cares so much about.” And with that last sentence, Kirishima stood up from his spot and pat Bakugou on his shoulder before exiting.

With Bakugou left with nothing but his thoughts and Kirishima’s advice, he left and headed straight towards your room.

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“Shut up!” You excitingly screamed though the phone. “You really found the last part?”

“Yup, it only took about 6 different stores across the entire city.” Shinsou sarcastically replied. “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know and I appreciate it. Katsuki’s gonna love his gift!” You said.

With Valentine’s Day around the corner, you’ve been preparing only the best Valentine’s Day surprise for the best boyfriend in the world. You’ve been so busy planning your surprise that I guess you could say you haven’t been giving Katsuki the massive amount of attention he’s used to from you, but you can definitely say it’ll all be worth it when he sees one of his presents that you’ve been working on. A silencer for his gauntlet blasts that not only decreases the volume of his attacks, but also increases his attack power. You remember how Bakugou had vented about his attacks being too loud that they scare people, but when he tried to keep them quiet, the attack isn’t as powerful so saving can be quite difficult. He only spoke about it once, but you could see the look on his face whenever he was out using his quirk around civilians. So why not give him a device that’ll help with his loud little problem. Now were you a support class student who knew how to make support items? Hell no. But were you a loving girlfriend willing to give her man the best Valentine’s Day ever? Hell yeah.

The piece of gear would’ve been easier to make IF it weren’t for a pesky piece of the project getting destroyed by Shinsou after he made Denki electrocute himself while he was right next to your prototype on the table. So to make it up to you, Shinsou went all around town looking for the piece you needed to complete your support item for Katsuki. Finally, all pieces had come together.

“He better. That damn bastard doesn’t know how amazing his girlfriend is. Instead of ignoring his ass these past few weeks, you sent ME to get all this shit for you so you could keep your precious Pomeranian happy.” Shinsou said while rolling his baggy eyes.

As Bakugou approached the outside of your dorm room’s door, he heard your voice.

“You know, you’re so right. That Pomeranian is unaware of just exactly how amazing I am. I really could’ve left whenever but I stuck around.” You snorted. “Well I’m glad I had you with me through it all Shinsou.”

*Pomeranian? SHINSOU?!? Through IT ALL?!?!? YOU WERE WITH THAT PURPLE HAIRED, SLEEP DEPRIVED ASS MIND CONTROLLING FREAK?!?? AND YOU WERE WITH HIM THE ENTIRE TIME YOU’VE BEEN DATING BAKUGOU?!?*

Oh to say Katsuki was pissed was an understatement. He felt all these emotions hitting him all at once. Anger, Disgust, Pain, Betrayal. It all became too much for him before Katsuki ran away from your down with his bed down and silent tears hitting the floor. When he let himself fall to the floor in the privacy of his room he screamed into his hands. His first love, his first real relationship, his teddy bear betraying his love, loyalty, and trust for over an entire year. After hours of crying, Katsuki was able to pull himself into bed. He couldn’t even bring himself to shower even though he spent all that time in the gym with Kirishima. He just wanted to sleep to escape reality. As he looked at his phone, he saw 1 missed call from Y/N, and 1 text saying “Goodnight love💗💥!” Bakugou scoffed at the text. Figuring u must be texting Shinsou the same thing. As Bakugou placed his phone down, an evil thought came to mind. Ruin her.

Bakugou smirked to himself as he had this pyscho and sinister look on his face. He would ruin Y/N. They haven’t officially broken up yet, so he could hurt her just as she hurt him. And Bakugou wasn’t stupid or so he thought he’s aware Valentine’s is coming up, so why not break little Y/N L/N’s heart on a day dedicated to nothing but love and happiness. It’ll be the perfect revenge on a little satin like her. Bakugou finally turned on his side with an evil, satisfied smile, and fat tears in his eyes once more.

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The next morning, Katsuki got up with a broken heart, but he figured if he wanted his plan to work, he had to fake this smile. Getting up, getting ready, and getting dressed was business as usual, but meeting up with Y/N in the morning was now off the schedule. Instead of going into her room to check on her like he usually does, he just went straight to breakfast and straight to class without speaking to anyone.

With Class 1-A seated and Mr.Aizawa at the head of the classroom, the students can finally start their first lesson of the day. Until, the door slid wide open. There stood an exhausted and quite frankly dishelved Y/N. “My apologies sensei. I was up late last night and overslept. Please forgive me.” Y/N said as she bowed her head in sorry. “Just take your seat L/N.” The tired eye teacher said.

As Y/N walked to her desk, she noticed Bakugou wouldn’t even glance her way. She was a little thrown off since it would be normal for him to at least give her a judgemental look for sleeping in, but no. Nothing.

Bakugou on the other hand was writhing in agony. Oh how he wanted to check on Y/N and make sure everything was fine, but that voice in the back of his head couldn’t help but tell him to ignore her since she’s a cheater. She may have been the girl he’s loved dearest, but she was also the one causing his heart to shatter.

After a few classes, Y/N tried to approach Bakugou several times, but each time he brushed her off. And when the bell finally rang for lunch, you can bet Katsuki was the first one out the door. Y/N followed him of course, in worry and concern.

“Babe! Baby! Katsuuu!!! KATSUKII!” Y/N whined for her boyfriend to at least look at her but once again. Nothing. Bakugou wanted to hug her and hold her tight but he couldn’t. Not after what she’s done. Right before Bakugou entered the cafeteria, Y/N pulled him aside and held onto his wrists.

“Baby? Hey, what’s up with you? I’ve been calling your name and trying to talk to you but you keep brushing me off. You also didn’t stop by this morning. Is something wrong, love?” Y/N was hoping for something. ANYTHING at this point. And it was like the gods heard her prayer because she definitely got....something. “My bad.” The blonde haired boy dryly replied. “....Oh, um, ok suki.” The poor girl just thought her dear boyfriend was having a bad day, so she just left it alone and let him go. But still, even on his worse days he would at least visit her in the mornings. As they sat down with the bakusquad, the entire table noticed how Bakugou sat up and moved across from Y/N after she chose to sit next to him like usual. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Kirishima could already feel what had gone down. He at least knew his bro didn’t talk to his girl. Not manly at all.

——————————————————————————

Valentine’s Day

During lunch, Kirishima has finally decided to speak to Bakugou about this whole thing. He hasn’t been getting any updates since their time in the gym, so when it was just him and his best friend having lunch together, he went for it.

“Man what the hell is going on with you and Y/N? I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding her like crazy,” Kirishima said while stuffing his face, nervous about the answer. “I was right all along.” The blonde sadly spoke. “She’s been cheating on me since the start of our entire relationship. And with that baggy eyed freak from 1-B.”

Kirishima couldnt believe what he was hearing. He almost choked on his food. Y/N was actually cheating. I guess people don’t know people as well as he thought. “.....wow...I’m sorry man.” The red haired friend said. He was at a lost for words and didn’t know what else to say. *sigh* “don’t be. It all goes down tonight.” Bakugou said with a sad smile. “What do you mean?” His friend asked. The blonde looked at him right in his red eyes. “I’m breaking her heart tonight, on the one day of the year dedicated to love.”

Meanwhile

Instead of going to lunch, Y/N spent her time finishing up Katsuki’s surprise in his room. Yeah, he’s been having a bad past few days so why not bring him a smile with these amazing gifts on the day of love. Although Y/N didn’t really feel the love today (due to Katsuki again being so distant and ignoring her “good morning blasty💥💗!” And “Happy Valentine’s Day my love♥️!” Texts) she was determined to make sure Katsuki knew just exactly how much she loved him. She was almost done setting up in his room. Rose petals on the bed, Candles everywhere, 4 different gifts including his new support item made by you, his favorite meal is going to be set here on his table, and you and him together spending every loving second with each other. Y/N didn’t realize that because of her setup, she missed the entire rest of the day. “Meh, so worth it when I see the look on Suki’s face.” Tonight is going to be perfect.....or so you thought.

You didn’t expect to find Katsuki in your room, sitting on the edge of you bed waiting for you with his head hanging low and his shoulders slumped.

*maybe he has a surprise for me....? Yea that has to be it!* Y/N happily thought as she closed the door.

“Suki!! Happy Valentine’s Day!” Y/N said with all the love in her heart as she ran and jumped on the boy for a hug. But Bakugou didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He just glanced back up at her, giving her this cold stare. Y/N was too busy professing her undying love for her boyfriend to even notice his scary silence. “Suki I’m really glad it’s you who I have in my life,” the love sicken girl bashfully spoke while looking at the ground. “You make me so happy and I feel so blessed being able to spend my life with you in it. I really hope you know just how much I care and lov-“ Bakugou couldn’t listen to this bullshit anymore. He pushed Y/N off of him just before she could say those 3 words that would get him to break.

“Hey! Suki? Why would you do that?!” Y/N exclaimed while standing back up. “I hate you.” The blonde spoke coldly. As those words left his mouth, Y/N heart and world were falling apart. Her eyes went wide open and her jaw slightly dropped. As she was about to say something else, Katsuki cut her off with “I’m breaking up with your dumbass. Right here. Right now!” Bakugou yelled. Y/N was in shock. She felt hurt, pain, she was just feeling so broken.

As tears filled her eyes, she asked “w-why?” as she tried to reach out to him. “Why? WHY?!” Bakugou screamed as he stood up above her slapping her hand away. “THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHY, Y/N. YOU’RE A FUCKING CHEATER, THATS WHY!” The blonde yelled in her face. Y/N couldn’t believe it. He thought she was cheating? Why would she even do that? She already has the best person in the world for her so why? “DONT EVEN GIVE ME THAT “it didn’t mean anything, Suki!” BULLSHIT. I DONT GIVE A FUCK, CUZ YOU’VE BEEN CHEATING ON ME AND PLAYING ME FOR A DAMN FOOL THIS ENTIRE FUCKING TIME!” Bakugou went on as his voice began to crack while tears flowed down his porcelain face. “YOU LIED TO ME. I GAVE YOU MY ENTIRE BEING AND YOU FUCKING LIED. YOU DUMB FUCKING BITCH, I CANT BELIEVE I EVER LOVED A SORRY EXCUSE OF A PERSON LIKE YOU. I HATE YOU SO DAMN MUCH, I DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT THE FUCK I SAW IN YOU!” Y/N’s heart hit the ground. No actually, it went 6 ft under because after all that he’s said, her heart is dead. Broken. In agony. “Suki I-“ “DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT L/N.” Hearing him refer to her with her family name hit so hard. “KATSUKI PLEASE! I DIDNT DO ANYTHING I SWEA-“ as Y/N tried to reach out to him, he interrupted her again and pushed her hand away. “I SAID DONT CALL ME THAT!”

The blonde yelled, except this time....he didn’t only yell. The burning scent of smoke came into his nose and the loud explosion could be heard throughout the building. The product of what he just did came to him. He just attacked the love of his life. As much as Y/N hurt him, Katsuki still loved her with his everything. And the fact that he subconsciously attacked her broke him even more. Y/N’s screams of pain reached his ears, as he looked down and saw his precious teddy bear with a burned arm and fat tears on her face, crying in pain.

Bakugou ran down to her level to try and help her. “Y/N! Hey, hey teddy bear look I’m so-“ Y/N pushed him away before he could continue. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU BAKUGOU?!” Ouch. His family name felt like poison coming from your tongue. “Princess, I’m sorry I didn’t-“ “SHUT UP AND LET ME SPEAK FOR ONCE YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Y/N screamed as she stood up to face him. “I DIDNT FUCKING CHEAT ON YOU. WHY THE HELL WOULD I DO THAT WHEN YOU’RE THE BEST DAMN THING THATS EVER HAPPENED TO ME?!..ah!” Y/N was cut off by the stinging of her wound, and Bakugou couldn’t do anything but stare. Y/N grabbed onto her wound before continuing. “I love you Bakugou. I wouldn’t even dream about doing wrong by you. I thought I was a good girlfriend or at least a good person-“ Bakugou quickly interrupted “No! Y/N you are, I just-“ “If I am then what the hell made you even think of me so lowly? What the hell did I do to make you question my loyalty? What the hell did I do that was worthy of you burning my fucking arm?!” Y/N cried out.

Silence fell upon the room. It felt like hours before anybody said anything. Both people had heavy tears in their face now. One crying because he realized he was an idiot and harmed the girl who did nothing wrong, and One crying because she did nothing wrong but ended up being a villain in her loved one’s life. Y/N broke the silence with a scoff.

“You know what Suki?” Y/N said looking him in the eyes. “Yes teddy bear?” Bakugou quickly replied with wide, desperate eyes upon hearing the loving nickname, thinking they would move on from this horrible incident. “Get the fuck out.” Y/N said in a low voice. Bakugou was shocked. He knew he fucked up horribly but after realizing the truth, he can’t leave you! He loves you too damn much for that! “What? Y/N please listen to me, I’m sor-“ “I DONT GIVE A FUCK! Leave..please.” The sad girl cried. Bakugou grabbed onto her shoulders begging her to not end this. “Y/N please! Please princess! I’m so fucking sorry! I’m an idiot, I know, and I definitely don’t deserve you but please I can’t lose you.” Bakugou said with tears falling down his face. “Please don’t do this to us. Please don’t do this to me, I’m BEGGING YOU.” “Bakugou-“ The sad boy cut you off, shaking his head, “ NO ITS SUKI. YOUR SUKI. YOUR KATSUKI.......please teddy bear I need you.......h-here let me help yo-”

You harshly pushed the boy off of you and as he tried to desperately go back to you, you used your quirk to keep him at bay. “Bakugou Katsuki. I’m leaving this room since you won’t, and I won’t come back until I know you’re out of my room.” Y/N began as she looked at him with cold, sad eyes. “From now on, you won’t have to worry about this bitch because I’ll stay out of your life, I swear. Don’t look at me, don’t touch me, DONT EVEN TALK TO ME. Just leave me alone....we’re done.” And with that Y/N ran out of her room, and out of the building, needing to get away from the place for a little bit. She could deal with her wound later. She just needed to get away. Bakugou just stood there in sadness and shock. As much as he wanted to run after you, he figured he’d give you a little breather. You guys could fix things in the morning...right?

Bakugou waited an hour in your room waiting for you, but you were right. You really weren’t coming back until he left your private area. So that’s what he did. With a heavy heart, he picked himself up and dragged his feet back to his dorm. He looked like a mess. He knew he did. Messy hair, red swollen eyes, dry lips. His entire body screamed heartbroken. When he open the door, instant regret and love hit him at once. His room was covered with rose petals and flowers, there were candles everywhere, heart shaped balloons all around, he had 4 different boxes of gifts, and two plates of extra spicy curry was set on his table, obviously cold now. What caught his eye was that one of the gift boxes had a note attached to it. With tears in his eyes, he read it.

Hey Suki! It’s Valentine’s Day! I love you to the moon and back and so much more. There’s no words that are able to describe the way I feel about you. You drive me insane in all the right ways and I love it! Lol. I hope you like your Valentine’s Day surprise. I’ve been working for weeks on it, so I’m sorry if I’ve been a little distracted. I know I’ve been kinda absent these past few days but I promise I’ll make it up to you love! Hopefully I can start with this gift that I’ve been working on. Enjoy your brand new grenade silencer! Made it myself just for you. There’s nothing else in the world like this. I love you Bakugou Katsuki!

(P.S. If Shinsou from 1-B gives you shit about it, it’s because I made him drag his ass everywhere to look for a missing part so I wouldn’t have to leave you so much)

XOXO, Your forever teddy bear <3

As he quickly opened the gift, he saw it. A silencer that would attach to his gauntlets to make the sound quieter and the blast even more powerful. It was incredible. You are incredible. He only ever mentioned the sound of his blasts once, and you listened and you fixed it.

Bakugou shook as tears began to fall onto the paper. He couldn’t believe it. Everything started coming together now. The reason you were so distracted was because you were setting this up for him. You were always on the phone because you were assembling pieces and ordering gifts for him. You weren’t cheating on him with Shinsou. You were making sure he could find something that you needed for him. Y/N L/N was truly the best girlfriend in the world. Scratch that, she is the best girlfriend in the world. No scratch that too, she’s just the best, period. And Bakugou’s idiotic self ruined everything for him. All because he couldn’t have a little faith in his teddy bear. As Katsuki cried and cried, he set everything aside.

He took the petals off his bed. He didn’t deserve it. He blew out the candles around his room. He didn’t deserve it. He popped the balloons, and ignored the food. He laid in bed with more tears than ever, and looked at the ceiling. He finally turned to his side to fall asleep, but not before grabbing the picture on his bedside nightstand. A picture of you and him. He remembers that picture oh so clearly. It was his birthday, and while he didn’t want to celebrate, you did everything in your power to make it the best one yet. And you did just that. Bakugou hugged that picture so tight, because he didn’t have you in his arms tonight. He didn’t think he would ever have you in his arms again. So Bakugou Katsuki continued to cry until he was asleep, escaping from the reality of him losing his love, his teddy bear, his princess, and his Y/N.

Bakugou Katsuki never lost, no. He’s always been ahead, always number one, always the best. He always won and achieved and nothing ever stopped him. Except this time, the only thing that stopped him and caused him to lose, was himself. He lost. He lost his everything. His world, his rock, his heart, his Y/N. He’s lost without her in his life, and at this point he thinks he’s lost at life. There was nothing that could fix him unless it was you coming back to him.

Bakugou Katsuki? He’s lost.

A/N: HOLY SHIT! That was my very first writing piece and it was just a Drabble of a thought I’ve been having. Sorry if it’s a little off and weird, I’m still new to writing but hopefully I’ll get better. This was NOT spell checked so my apologies for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Thx for the love!

#bakugou angst #bakugou oneshot #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero x reader #bakugou x y/n #bhna bakugou #bakugo angst #bakugou fanfiction #bnha angst

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angelguk · 3 years

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Omg pleaseee write the jock jk playboy bunny costume idea u had 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼😩😩💗💗

lemme do a quick little thing 4 u :)

featuring: oc and jk being dumb lovers, chayoung (the female lead from vincenzo) as seed of doubt, anniversaries and a playboy bunny costume. somewhat mature towards the end but only because jk see's sexy gf and cannot help himself.

This is a stupid idea, so incredibly stupid that you're considering jumping out of the bathroom window right now. A four-storey jump may result in various injuries (or potentially death) but it would be a far more welcomed out come than leaving Jeongguk's bathroom in this stupid costume.

You don't know why you bothered to listen to Chayoung's drunken blabbering. The moment you'd mentioned your upcoming one-year anniversary she's launched into a spiel about how young love never lasts, or how the roots for future foreboding break-ups were planted during the first anniversary. Her words sowed a dangerous seed in your head, one that was nurtured by Jeongguk's sudden distance. You could tell he was stressed, weighed down by the daunting options before him. Coach wanted to push him to try for the national leagues, his parents wanted him to take a step back and focus on his degree, and Jeongguk, after one quiet evening at yours, had confessed he didn't know what he wanted at all. It hurt to see him like this, usually such a sure and confident soul suddenly staggering and lost. But what could you do apart from hold his hand as he walked forward and help him up when he fell? There was nothing else you could offer, you knew his parents and their concerns were sensible but those same concerns made Jeongguk wonder if they ever believed in him in the first place.

So maybe that's why you're doing this, in hopes of rekindling a spark you feel dying and taking Jeongguk's mind away from everything that burdened him – just for one night.

It's oddly quiet in his room. You'd scuttled right into the bathroom the moment you'd picked him up from practise, complaining that you needed to shower before you commenced your usual shared evenings. Jeongguk had just nodded, quiet and mulling, his eyes absent. It had made something twist in your gut. The whole entire day, from the moment you woke up to right now Jeongguk had not mentioned one thing about your anniversary – not even a text or a bouquet no matter how subtly you hinted. It hurt, but it was proof Chayoung was right. And perhaps the only think that could fix this ship before it sunk was her stupid, stupid idea.

You can only stare at yourself in brief swift glances, grimacing every time you catch the reflection of those white ears standing at attention on top of your head. The fluffy tail attached to the back of the costume was making your butt itch too. Even with those criticisms you knew deep down that you looked good... Surprisingly so. The body of the costume was black satin, shimmering under the luminescence of the bathroom lights. It fit perfect over each curve and roll, hugging your waist just right. Coupled with a pair of fishnets and the fact that your boobs looked exceptionally great today (perks of ovulating) you were a sight to behold.

So even if Chayoung is irritating as hell you had to give some props to her.

"Y/N?" The knock that follows it startles you, sending you lurching forward hard enough that your hip bangs against the counter-top.

"Y-yes?"

"Are you okay?" He sounds tired through the wood, weathered away despite his concerns.

"Hmm? Yes, I'm good–I'm good. Just give me a sec."

A pause, you hope you locked the door because normally Jeongguk would have barged in not bothering to knock.

"Okay. Hurry up though I'm hungry and I ordered food. It's here and if you don't come out I'll eat it all."

"Already? It's here?" God, how are you going to disrupt Jeongguk's chicken nights with a playboy bunny costume?

He makes a noncommittal noise. "Yep. So hurry, I'll really eat all of this if you don't come out soon."

The handle burns your palm when you finally grip it, tummy swimming like you've chugged a series of vodka shots. Jeongguk should like this, right? He calls you bunny all the time, even Chayoung had noticed it (hence the horrifying costume you were currently donning). So wouldn’t he like it? And it was a cute little anniversary surprise, at least you were doing something unlike Jeongguk.

You take in one deep last breath, heart pounding in your head, before you twist and handle and swing the door open, a forced sneaky smile slipping onto your lips.

It falls right off the moment your eyes land on Jeongguk's bedroom.

Either he's the fucking Flash or you've been camped in the bathroom for too long because somehow he's managed to turn his messy room into a perfect romantic dinner spot. He's got the lights turned on to a low rouge, lit candles scattered around the place (which is a fire hazard but the warmth blossoming in your heart is ignoring that), a couple cushions on the floor flanking a heart shaped picnic basket where you dinner presumably resides. And then you glance down, something bright bursting in your chest when you see the red petals lining your path from the bathroom right to the picnic set up.

His back is turned to you, his phone in hand which he abruptly presses on. A melody fills the room a moment later, the song low and familiar. You know that song, that's your song.

Jeon Jeongguk will be the death of you.

"Now if–fucking hell." Jeongguk turns before you can stop him, the grin on his lips evaporating when his gaze lands on you

Oh. Oh. You wilt in a second, floundering against the bathroom door frame in a attempt to hide you bare (and bunny costume covered) body.

The silence that follows is unbearable, sinking deep into your gut as guilt rises to the surface. Jeongguk planned all of this and all you did was wear a stupid sexy costume.

"I–" You start, but his brain must of started working at the same time as yours because he catches that sentence with his own statement.

"You–" It's coated with disbelief, and your tongue gets caught in your throat when he exhales heavily, head falling into his hand. You watch with a sore heart as his fingers comb through the loose chestnut curls, tugging and yanking at his scalp as if his brain was falling to pieces.

"Jeongguk," you finally murmur, meekly padding forward, the shame you feel eating you inside out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin this. I'll change just give me a second."

His head snaps up when you say that, gaze sharp, almost terrifying as he surveys. "Why should you change?"

"W-what?"

"I said," he rises then, slowly moving forward as if not to startle you, his eyes never straying from your body. "Why should you change?"

"Because I look dumb," you return. "And I ruined your great anniversary surprise with my stupid one."

You only notice it then, how his jaw ticks, his head tilting to the side slow. Like he's holding himself back.

"You think you look dumb?" The question itself is innocent but the tone Jeongguk delivers it in is not. You can feel the words in your throat clumping together the longer he looks at you like that, his doe eyes different – dark and spilling with something that has you quivering, your eyes shifting away.

"Answer my question." A firm but gentle hand on your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

"Yes." It's silent in his room, the low hum of the song bleeding into the thumping of your heart against your ribs.

"Why would my baby look dumb wearing a bunny costume? Huh? It's fitting actually, since you are my bunny."

"Yeah," you try and lighten it was a small laugh, noting the way Jeongguk is staring at your lips. "But this was dumb anniversary surprise. Yours is much better."

You see it click in his head then, like he wasn't hearing a single word you were saying before.

"You did this for me?" Jeongguk questions, eyes dipping to your chest.

"Obviously, who else would I do this for."

"No–I meant, this, this is for me? This was meant to be a surprise for me?"

"Yes," you repeat. "I'd do anything for you. Now let me take this silly thing off so we can have dinner first." You twist away then, but Jeongguk snatches you right back, your frame colliding with his solid chest, firm massive arms holding you in place. The squeak that erupts from your lips lands into tight air, a sudden tension thrumming in your veins. Jeongguk's hard against your ass, erection grazing the downy tail attached to the base of the costume. There's a palm placed steady around your neck, trapping you against his while his other hand idly explores, sparking little fires along your skin as it journeys from your chest down to your stomach before settling right between your thighs.

There's nothing in your head except how massive he feels behind you, wandering hand gentle but eager a certain roughness appearing when his lithe fingers press through the fabric, toying with your clothed clit. It's a promise for what's to come, judging by the quiet groan that melts into your skin from his throat as his hips buck into you.

"You don't know what you do to me do you?" It's whispered softly, mimicking the ginger kiss he places on your hollow of your throat.

If you could think sensible words you would speak but right now everything is loud and roaring and words feel to heavy for your tongue. So you hum instead, whimpering when his fingertips circle your clit.

You can feel the smile on his lips. Hear it in what he says next.

"I should show you then, shouldn't I?"

#ask #anon #au: jock!jaykay #ehhhhh #well!!#jungkook x reader #:3 #i hope u lik dis #not edited of course i wrote dis rn

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aspiringtrashpanda · 2 years

Text

Myself and @4laurus thought it would be fun to put together some One Piece Valentine's cards and matching drabbles! So, without further ado...

4Pandas presents 4/6:

“You steal a kiss, I steal your wallet."

Nami liked the chase.

She lived for the cat and mouse, the back and forth, the cloak and dagger. She could be anybody. She could be nobody. She didn’t have to be herself.

The tattoo on her arm didn’t exist. The horde of cash under the tangerine grove was but a joke. The bullet in her mother’s head had flown wide, just skimming her scalp.

That wasn’t to say that she didn’t like herself, that she was hiding from the trauma she had faced for the first eighteen years of her life. No, in fact she loved who she had become, for she could be anyone, but anyone was not her.

Anyone had not gone through all she had gone through to erase her existence, and by extension, her pain. Her pain was cruel, and it was mean, and it was ugly, though that didn’t mean that she wasn’t beautiful, scars and all.

Anyone did not navigate the Knock Up stream to Skypeia. Anyone did not manipulate a talking tree with a vivre card. Anyone did not stand up to an Emperor and one of their fleets.

In her expert opinion, her scars were pretty damn sexy.

The truth was simple: There was no point letting them in. She was always gone by morning.

It had started as it had a handful of islands ago; A fancy cocktail, a word of praise, a familiar smile. Nami had been expecting the invitation to dance, the request to join you for dinner the following evening, and she had not been disappointed. She had, however, been charmed by your stubborn insistence to walk her home, despite her refusing to give away the Sunny’s current location. She could never be too sure. You could have been a marine in disguise. Why else would you reappear on another island?

“This reminds me of when I would play hide and seek with my friends,” You had laughed, cloth serviette from the bar tied over your eyes.

Your hand had felt so warm, squeezing Nami’s fingers, seeking a response.

“My brothers used to find me in the apple orchard, every time,” She had fabricated the lie with ease, a mental image of herself in worn overalls and pigtails shimmering behind her eyelids, “I never learned.”

The sea, having calmed from its previously choppy waves to a confident push and pull of the tide, had sung her to sleep with an encouraging roar.

“Apples are suited for mild climate,” You brought up the next night, silver fork flashing as you picked at your grilled sea bass. Nami was certain it paled in comparison to Sanji’s.

“Good thing Goldenhorn is an autumn island,” She grinned, fluttering her eyelids provocatively to distract from the terrible name she had procured. Making a mental note to revisit some maps of the North, South, and West Blue (and maybe pester Usopp for some pointers on lying), she bounced her leg, crossed over the other. The tip of her stylish heels brushed against your calf.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to be an expert on geography, at least, outside of the Grand Line.

“What’s a girl like you doing on the seas?” You slid a few bills onto the check before sliding your wallet into your back pocket.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Nami winked, smoothing out her satin dress as she stood.

There were many things you did discover about Nami. You found out exactly how her supple skin felt beneath your fingers, how her freckles dotted the entirety of her body like fireworks across her flesh. You found out how she moaned your name, how she fisted the bedsheets when she was particularly pleased. You found out that her hair smelt like vanilla and citrus, that her lips tasted as sweet as honey.

“Tell me, Vanessa, can I see you again?” You asked as you neared the blissfully ignorant embrace of sleep, sweat dotting your hairline as you reached out from the other side of the bed, craving the touch of her skin once more.

There was a rustle, the mattress shifting as Nami made for the balcony fixed to the side of the inn. Her manicured nails clicked against the bedside table on her way, the French doors creaking with effort as she let the cool midnight breeze flutter the chiffon curtains.

You squinted one eye open.

Her silhouette glowing silver against the moonlit sky, she straddled the balcony, pointing her toes as she lifted her leg in a sultry pose. Dress shifting, her milky thigh visible as she ran her hand suggestively over the curve of her hip, she giggled, “My name is Nami – navigator of the Straw Hat pirates.”

She heard your gasp of surprise, reveled in the soft choke as your breath caught in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, and the tip,” She winked, flashing your worn leather wallet dangling between her fingers. She swiveled on the banister, plunging into the ink-like shadows of the street, heels clicking against the brick pathways as she ran for the pier. A familiar Jolly Roger waved in the light of the moon, upon a sea full of reflected stars.

When she looked over her shoulder, Nami caught sight of you, partially clothed and standing on the dock. Your jaw on the wooden slates, you looked to be equal parts impressed and infuriated.

“Catch me if you can!” She laughed as she paddled away on the Mini Merry, counting her berries and blowing you a kiss.

Maybe one day, she would stay.

Today was not that day.

If you liked this, please consider checking out our Ko-Fis here and here! ❤

#one piece #op fanfic #nami x reader #nami #fanart #one piece fanart #valentines day #valentines cards #valentines event #4pandas #aspiringtrashpanda #4laurus #one piece fanfiction #drabble #cards

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)

*MY GIF

Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.

A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote. Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,) Category: Fluffy happy ending! Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst Word Count: 6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber.

It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost!

With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.

I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it.

“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too.

“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement.

She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?”

This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg.

She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway.

“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way.

“... something old.”

Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one.

She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.

“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.”

As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.”

Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”

The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes.

“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”

She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe.

“Is this ‘something old’ a place?”

There was no indecision with this answer. “No.”

“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?”

Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”

Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination.

Ellie’s Bridal Boutique.

“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.”

A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested.

“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.”

“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.”

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke.

“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.”

I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine.

“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”

I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely.

It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her.

“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.”

Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.”

I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform.

“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne.

“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine.

It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her.

At least in my world it does.

By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it.

To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison.

Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.

But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?

Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!

I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor.

With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost.

In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me.

Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected.

(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare.

“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back.

“That good, huh?”

I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me.

My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance.

“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you.

“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”

I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.

I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her.

“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.

We both knew I wasn’t though.

It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.

“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.

Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will.

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.

“...I love you.”

She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant.

“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway.

I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?

Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her.

(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me.

By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car.

“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?”

My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.

“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.

“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”

The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue.

_ _ _

If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol.

Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so.

For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.

You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me.

She’s stubborn like that, remember?

And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart.

The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more.

It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter.

It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.

But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her?

It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding.

Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her.

As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless.

If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?

“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.”

“Oh, thanks.”

That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?

“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.”

The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.

She was lying.

She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message.

She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?

What was she hiding?

The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?

That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover.

Can Love Happen Twice?

And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.”

_ _ _

My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled.

“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!”

I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?

“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.

“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad.

“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short.

“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”

By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles.

“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”

Even if that life isn’t with me.

I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue.

“Spencer.”

I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion.

The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something.

In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know.

I needed her to say it. So say it.

Say it, darling.

Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk.

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to.

_ _ _

Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church.

Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?

Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already.

It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone.

Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.

I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels.

“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?”

It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me.

It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”

As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked.

“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation.

“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.”

There was my answer I’d been searching for.

“God, Spencer - what took you so long?”

From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers.

True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past.

“Is this -”

“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid kiss #criminal minds #juniorgman187 #something borrowed something blue

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gnbrules · 3 years

Text

Truth in the Afterglow

Suptober21, Day 4: Secrets

Rated M

Words: 1284

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Lee Web

Summary: “And then Lee says three words that nearly end him.” Dean and Lee, sharing stories and secrets. And more. Pre-series Dean/Lee Webb. Mild to moderate sexual scenes (not particularly graphic descriptions). See tags for more details. Created for Suptober21 Challenge, Day 4: Secrets.

They’re a few too many beers in and Dean is feeling good. Loose. Light. Something about hanging out with Lee makes him feel like he can finally be real with someone. In a way that he can’t be with his father. Or his little brother. Or anyone he ever met back in school.

Lee just gets it.

“And then,” Lee continues, in between laughs, “she pops out a whole array of actual medical instruments. Like scalpels and shit. And I thought I was down to play doctor, but not like that!”

Dean’s own laugh rumbles through his chest. He settles back even further against the bench seat of the car, relaxed as could be. “Man, what did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do? I made up some excuse and got the hell out! Don’t I get attacked with sharp objects enough as a hunter? Why should I submit to that in my off-time?”

Dean grins. “S’ppose so. I don’t think I’d be into that uh, medical stuff, either, to be honest.”

Lee glances up from his beer, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “So what about you, Dean? What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve done?”

Dean tenses slightly, but he doesn’t know why. It’s just a question. It’s just two guys shooting the shit. “To be fair, you didn’t tell me about something you did,” argues Dean. “You told me about something you didn’t do.”

Lee shrugs, a casual roll of his shoulders. “Whatever, man. Here I am, baring my soul…”

They both burst into laughter again.

Read on AO3

Dean fiddles with the label of his beer. “Alright, alright. So there was this chick named Rhonda…”

So Dean tells him about what Rhonda Hurley wanted him to wear, and how he went along with it. He doesn’t tell Lee that he kind of liked it. Instead he plays it off as a joke. It is funny, so they laugh and make light of it. It’s a secret Dean has been holding, and even if he only tells half the story, it still feels good to let it go.

Lee’s grin could stop the world. His eyes keep twinkling as he says, “You, in some pink satin panties? Now that, I’d like to see.”

Dean tenses again, his heart beating faster suddenly. Lee’s just talking more shit, of course; he means it would be funny, a real ha-ha moment. It doesn’t mean he’d like to see Dean dressed that way, for real. It’s not like he’s flirting.

And then Lee says three words that nearly end him.

“Could be hot.”

Dean’s breath stalls just slightly. He makes the mistake of catching Lee’s eye.

His friend isn’t laughing anymore. Instead he looks at Dean appraisingly, his eyes flickering down to Dean’s lips and then even further south, over his body. Visibly checking him out.

Dean can’t help it. He does the same. He looks Lee over, feeling a jolt when he notices the slight tenting of jeans. The car feels too warm all of a sudden.

“Got myself kinda worked up,” Lee admits quietly.

Is Dean losing it, or did Lee’s voice just get three times deeper?

Dean tries to play it off, but when he says, “I noticed,” it doesn’t sound anything like a joke.

Lee places a hand on Dean’s thigh.

Dean’s imagination takes off in a flash, thinking of all the ways this could go. He could tell Lee to back off. He could punch him.

But.

He doesn’t want to punch Lee. He likes Lee. He is fun, and kinda sexy, and his hand feels nice where it is.

Could feel even nicer somewhere else, too.

“Dean? Earth to Dean?”

Dean snaps back to his present reality.

Lee is looking less confident now. He pulls his hand away, doesn’t meet Dean’s eye anymore.

“Sorry,” Lee says. “Just thought we could have some fun. This stakeout is kind of a bust, huh?”

Dean could let this go. Their friendship would probably survive. He could give Lee the out.

But.

He doesn’t want to give Lee the out. He wants Lee to touch him again. And more.

“Well, why the hell not?” Dean says finally.

Lee snaps around to look at him, so fast it might be comical. “What?”

Dean tries to make himself sound as nonchalant as possible. “Look, you got us both all hot and bothered talking about that kinky shit. So just for fun, yeah? No strings or anything?”

“Of course,” Lee agrees.

That’s all it really takes to settle the matter for Dean. He wasn’t lying – Lee did get him half-hard with a few words and a simple thigh touch. Dean just needed to know that this doesn’t have to mean anything. Or change anything.

They move in closer to each other. One of Lee’s arms drapes casually over Dean’s shoulders. His other hand goes directly to Dean’s lap, where he begins to palm him through the denim.

The pressure is good. Really good.

And Dean’s not a selfish guy, so he returns the favor, working Lee over properly. Soon enough, zippers are coming down and buttons are popping.

Breathing comes harder, faster. A hand slips under a shirt, searching for more skin.

Then Lee kisses him.

In another time, Dean might worry that it means something. That kissing is too intimate in some weird way that fooling around isn’t. But Lee’s lips are softer than Dean expected, and though he tastes mostly like their cheap beer, Dean can’t bring himself to care.

Especially since the kissing comes with all the rest, the gliding strokes of Lee’s somewhat calloused hand. As Dean touches him in return, Lee hums low in his throat, the sound of warm enjoyment and pleasure. Dean feels an odd sense of gratification that he can pull those sounds from Lee.

It goes pretty quickly after that.

Dean grunts when he finishes. Lee kisses him through the orgasm and comes just after, spilling over Dean’s hand and a little on his own stomach.

For a moment, Dean just looks at the profile of Lee’s face. Sweaty but contented. There’s something truthful in the peace and afterglow.

Then Lee closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat. “Fuck,” he says. “Been awhile since I’ve come that hard from just a handy.”

Dean turns away. He’s already starting feel weird about this. He finds some free floating take-out napkins in the car and busies himself cleaning up. Lee does the same beside him, wordlessly.

Once they’re back in presentable enough condition, Lee nudges Dean’s shoulders with one of his own. “Hey. Look at me, Dean-o.”

Dean doesn’t want to. In fact he’s downright scared to see him, face to face. But he turns to look anyway.

And there is Lee, staring back at him. “No strings, remember? We had fun. Or at least, I did,” he says with a grin.

It’s the same shit-eating grin as always. Lee is still just Lee. They’re still just them.

Dean smirks back, rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Me too. Pass me another beer, will ya?”

Lee reaches into the backseat and grabs a bottle for Dean and another for himself. Soon enough, they’re back to telling jokes and war stories. They laugh at nothing and everything. Things are good.

Later, John Winchester will return to the car, bleeding slightly from the shoulder, but alive and furious. They’ll get chewed out for drinking on the job, for being careless on a hunt.

But he won’t know anything else.

Dean will breathe a sigh of relief. And he won’t help but see the irony: he shared the secret about Rhonda with Lee, only for Lee to become another secret himself.

#suptober21 #my fic #dean winchester/lee webb #Dean/Lee #supernatural #pre-series #my post #rated m #mild smut #supernatural fic

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tllgrrl · 2 years

Text

“Who needs a camera?”

(Apparently not James Bucky Barnes.)

(Camera Roll < Sketchbook < Memory)

For shits-n-giggles, and because I am dry as a bone for Week 4 of Fleur De Love, I’ve decided to post the original version of a Drabble Challenge that I wrote before I reread the challenge and came to find out in my excitement and haste, I’d misread the Word Count. (Note: Read Challenge instructions at least twice.)

I had to get out the chisel and scalpel, and cut all o’ these 1800 + - words…down…to 500 words. I knew what I needed to do. I had to kill a whole bunch of darlings.

I cut the prologue, a lot of camera roll and sketchbook details, and some dialogue, and rewrote some. I’m just posting this here because why not? Plus, I’m trying to figure how Tumblr works. (Frankly, I hate it.)

Anyway, the title of the resulting 500 Word Drabble is “The Sleeping Venus of Delacroix” on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214926 .

What follows is what it was before it became that.

The prompt: Camera(s).

Rated : TEEN+ for mention of an adult couple having had sex.

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

After putting the boys down for the night, he invited her up to his room.

She smiled that girlish grin that lit him up from inside. Made him warm and made him shiver at the same time.

He picked her up, and she stifled a giggle.

It felt good to lift her and carry her up the stairs to the attic. He liked the way she felt in his arms, in his hands. She pretended she didn’t like being lifted, but he could tell by the way she relaxed in his arms…and how she smiled that secret smile he understands when she softly said “Boy…you and this foolishness…”

He’d wanted to untwist her hair, and promised to get up early in the morning to re-twist it for her so she could wear one of her satin-lined beanies to the restaurant, but she said she was planning to wear her full curls out, so he made love with her, his ikumkani, her hair wrapped (head crowned) in a rich, deep red fabric that was shot through with gold threads.

She whispered his name into the side of his neck: “James…”

He kissed her name into her soft shoulder: “Sarah…”

And they called each other “Intanda”.

Stars shone through the skylight above the bed. The two of them gleamed in the soft light as they moved and rolled together like waves on the Gulf under the crescent Moon.

Afterwards, he was relaxed and wrung out, but he didn’t sleep. Sometimes he had nightmares, even night terrors, and he would wake up not knowing where, or even who he was. He felt that this, in combination with a Vibranium arm, made him unsafe to sleep with, and tonight, though he was happy, he didn’t want to chance it, so he held her until she fell asleep, then he quietly left the bed.

When he came back from the bathroom, he saw her, on top of the blanket and sheets, in his bed beneath the skylight…

He stood there for a while and watched her before he went to her, gently touched the tags lying on her breast, and whispered his Promise…

“…not next to you, still with you…”

Then he went over to the sleeping bag and laid down on the floor against the wall close to the side of the bed near her, and smelling sex in the air and her fragrance on his skin, he closed his eyes.

“…not next to me, still with me...”

Soon, he drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep, hearing her breathe.

…………2 months later………….

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Only 20?”

“About…”

“May I see?”

“OK. I mean…you and the kids, mostly. And the P&D. Sam in the Suit. And you. And sunsets. A couple of…Selfies (...godawful word...) with you. Cass & AJ in their baseball uniforms. Playing baseball. And you…”

“James…you don’t have to show me if you don’t wa—“

“No! It’s not like I’m…ashamed of my camera roll. I only have pictures in there for the phone…screen…thing. Cass showed me how to swap out photos for Lockscreens and Caller ID. I don’t need a camera, anyway.”

“Everybody’s phone has a camera in it these days.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Doesn’t mean they need it.”

“Alright, then, Gramps. Give. Toss it over.”

She catches the phone and he goes back to cleaning his hand plates and finger joints.

“Let me know if you need me to take a look at your hand, ‘k, nandi?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He keeps swabbing, but grins wide..

(She’s amazing. How’d I get so lucky?)

Laying back on his bed she scrolls through his Camera Roll, seeing a series of images: lots of Cass & AJ; and Cass & AJ with her; Sam at a Press Conference being stoic; a few selfies of her & James, grinning ear to ear, one of her smiling bashfully as he kissed her cheek; candid shots of her, watching the kids play baseball; a shot of her on the deck of the P&D, pointing at the dock as workers carry the catch ashore.

And there’s a photo of her at the kitchen sink, taken from behind. She’s wearing those cargo shorts that fit her in a way that makes him feel, as the kids today say, “some kind o’ way”.

She looks over at James, and he’s busying himself wiping the cloth over the back of his hand, while plates in his forearm vibrate, shift, and slide back into place.

He’s softly smiling…and blushing.

She waits….because she knows he knows what she just saw on his phone.

He finally puts the cloth down, and sighs, looking at the floor, the wall, back at the floor…anywhere but at her..

“You were singing, and you just looked..so…and I…you can delete that one…”

“James, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with this picture.”

“I don’t need to keep—“

She sits up on the bed.

“James, look at me.”

Still blushing, he lifts his eyes and looks over at her.

“You look at this picture, these pictures, when you’re on a mission and homesick, or when you’re stressed, don’t you? When you’re feeling…”

“Unmoored is…one of the words Dr. Raynor used.”

“Okay. And with this one, you imagine being here at home, in the kitchen, walking up behind me and holding me?”

He nods, and grins. “You complain, sometimes, but I can tell that you like it.”

“I do, James.”

“I like it too. I like holding you. You feel like…I look at that photo of you, Sarah, and it’s like…it’s...Home.”

She nods.

“And I’m wearing those cargo shorts that, when you see me in them, make you feel some sort of way.”

He smiles and nods, wetting his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

“Well…”

“Yeah, I see you, James Bucky Barnes.” She smiles a wry smile. “You think you’re slick, you.

Go ahead and keep this photo.

But, baby, if I ever see this photo of my ass on social media, I’ll call Carlos myself, and I’ll gladly help him cut you up into fish food. You’re not the only one with knife skills up in here, sithandwa.”

They both chuckle.

The last, and most recent photo in the camera roll is a shot of her looking out onto the ocean from the deck of the P&D, dark brown skin highlighted by golden sunset.

It’s, more or less, the typical Dad Camera Roll.

“I honestly thought you’d have more than just 20 pictures on you phone.”

“Of what else? Selfies of myself and some cookies I baked for the boys’ PTA Bake Sale…or me during a mission with Cap? Or me and my arm at the dock—“

“OK. I get it.” She says, laughing.

A book on his desk catches her eye.

“Is that a…sketchbook? Are you drawing again?”

“Yeah. It’s…relaxing. Helps me focus. Wanna see?”

“Only if you want me to. I understand if it’s part of your thera—“

He stands, picks up the book, takes it over to her, exchanges it for his phone, which he tosses onto the overstuffed chair on the other side of the room, and he sits on the edge of the bed, with one leg on the mattress, the other foot on the floor.

(In case he wants/needs to walk or leave.)

She crosses her long legs, pats the mattress nearer to her, and he scoots closer, bringing his leg up and crossing his legs as well.

“Better? You OK with this?”

“Yeah,” he exhales. “No one else has seen it. Except, now you. I…want you to see.”

“Okay.” She leans slightly forward and lays her hand on his cheek.”Thank you, James.”

He leans his head into her palm and smiles, almost bashfully. “Thank you, Sarah. I hope you…Thanks.”

Inside the 8 ½” x 11” hardbound book are pencil drawings, ranging from impressionistic to photorealistic in style.

The one of her right hand—graced by his engagement diamond ring— nestled in his Vibranium hand, is lovely.

There are beautiful studies of her (their) kids: Cass, on his way to Tweendom, at home plate, waiting for a pitch. All arms and legs, and a determined grin.

There’s a sketch of him with that “I don’t need your help I’m not a baby” pout next to one of him, eyes wide and smiling, engrossed in a book.

And there’s AJ, glasses askew as always, inquisitive smile, touching the star on Captain America’s shield; one of him holding a fishing pole and a fish, and another of him in an Easter Sunday suit, and sneakers.

There is a portrait partially impressionistic, part photorealistic of a Black woman. She’s a warrior. Her head is clean-shaven, which brings out her eyes that look loving and kind, but at the same time like she would put a spear through your heart if it needed to be done, no problem. She is stunning and frightening. She could be on the catwalk in Paris, or in the middle of a battlefield, handling business.

(Is this the Royal Guard soldier James talks about wanting me to meet? I’ll ask later..)

There are studies of Sam working on the boat, Sam in the Falcon suit and then in the Captain America suit that the Wakandans developed and made for him.

Sam: laughing, talking to his nephews, playing catch with them.

A portrait of Sam and Sarah next to a drawing of a photograph of the two siblings as children.

A drawing of Sam, talking to a fellow Vet, eyes full of compassion and quiet strength.

And there are studies of her as well.

James can tell she’s looking at the drawings of herself because her eyes get a look…like she can’t quite believe someone sees her like this:

girlish grin…determined, brooks-no-fools glare… her: holding AJ…encouraging Cass…standing on the front porch waving good-bye/waving hello… tasting something she’s cooking…laughing… her hands…her back and shoulders…her eyes/lips/neck…her hands…her long legs, laying on top of white bedding, and the ankle that wears the gold and Vibranium ankle bracelet he had made for her by a Wakandan artisan….her hands…the ecstatic smile only meant for his eyes, the smile he sees during and afterwards… her hand wearing his ring…

There also are a few sketches of the house. And one of the little dock past the backyard, and the little river that leads to the Gulf and then the Ocean.

There’s a sketch of Sam’s barbershop, which is now his shop as well. And studies of various Delacroix street scenes at various times.

Sketch after sketch, studies and landscapes, impressions.

Some leap off the pages. Some draw her in.

“These are beautiful, James. Honestly, you should consider mounting some kind of exhibi—“

The drawing in the back of the book makes her jaw drop.

He turns partially away, placing one foot on the floor, almost holding his breath, not sure how she’s going to react…

Her hand first reaches out to him, then flies back to cover her mouth and she softly gasps.

“Heavenly Fa—“

It’s a photorealistic pencil drawing. A full-on portrait of a Black woman, her, asleep on a bed, in a darkened library…or study. His bed, in his room.

She’s nude, lying on blankets and sheets that pool around her curves.

Her thighs, belly and breasts are revealed and a soft light from above throws highlights on her skin, making her look soft, and… luscious.

Her face is tilted slightly up and away from the viewer, but a soft smile is visible on her lips.

Her hair is covered by a head wrap tied in an intricate style that looks like something a Queen would wear. The wrap adds a look of regal grace and strength to her lushness.

Her left arm is raised and her head is resting on that hand.

There is a book lying near her, as if she drifted off to sleep while reading. On the cover of the book is written: The Two Towers.

Her right arm is draped over her hip and a diamond graces the ring finger on her hand, which covers the delta of her thighs.

Her only other jewelry, aside from an ankle bracelet, is a ball chain necklace, and hanging from it, something that falls onto the swell of her breasts: dog tags.

And above the bed…is a skylight filled with a starry sky.

"James...sithandwa,” she looks up at him, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her (his) shirt. “This…is…beautiful.”

“Like I said, intanda…” he says softly, and finally looking into her eyes, “I don’t need a camera.”

#sarahbucky #buckysarah #sarah x bucky #bucky x sarah #sarah wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #sarah wilson fanfic #fleurdelouve #fleur de louve

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sirikenobi12 · 3 years

Text

This Capt' goes down with her Ship

I’m honestly amazed at how many messages I receive both here and on Twitter that ask me why I ship Obi-Wan with Siri Tachi over Satine Kryze. I guess I’m mostly amazed because I can’t believe people actually care enough to take the time to message me about my character preferences, that’s just really fascinating to me.

But, since I’m getting tired of writing this out in individual messages I thought perhaps a blog would be a good idea so that way I can just reference/link them to it later - it’ll be much easier. So, bear with me while I get a little self indulgent (and Satine stans please don’t come at me, I will explain below how I really have nothing against Obitine).

This is going to be really long, and I’m not expecting anyone to actually read this, but here we go!

I’ll begin by answering questions that are sitting in my inbox:

1. Who the hell is Siri Tachi?? For those who don’t know the character of Siri Tachi, she was a female Jedi who was two years younger than Obi-Wan. She was originally from the Legends young reader book series Jedi Apprentice and Jedi Quest (written by Jude Watson). She was in many of the same Padawan classes as Obi-Wan even though she was two years his junior because of her advanced skills. She could hold her own against him in a lightsaber duel even as they grew up. She was chosen as an apprentice to Jedi Council Member Adi Gallia at age 11 which was very impressive given how young she was and the fact that a Council Member chose her.

(I don’t know why she looks like Brittany Spears in this drawing, not my fave)

She did have a hard time fitting in with her peers when she was younger though because she was so focused on her career as a Jedi which didn’t always make her the friendliest person to be around (it was really her masking her insecurities) and it was only after she was paired on several missions with Obi-Wan that they even became friends.

She and Obi-Wan over the years grew very close and eventually discovered their feelings had crossed the line from friends to something more while on a mission when they were older Padawans (Obi was 18). They had been separated from their masters and nearly died while on that mission. So, before they “died” they each confessed their love to the other, but when it turned out they didn’t actually die they decided they’d wait and figure out what their relationship actually meant once the mission was over - putting duty above their feelings. But Qui-Gon and Yoda intervene before the two of them could have the conversation and the Masters reminded Obi-Wan of his dedication to the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan argued that he and Siri would be able to find a way to be together while still being active Jedi, that maybe they could be an exception to the rule or even change the rule entirely. Both he and Siri did end up choosing their commitment to the Jedi over their relationship in the end, because each of them realized they’d regret not being Jedi more than anything, but it did put a strain on their friendship for many years.

At 23 Siri was secretly knighted and her first solo mission was sent undercover to infiltrate and take down a huge pirate slaver operation and she spent 4 years on that mission, all on her own with limited communication with the Council.

In order to do this she had to pretend to have a falling out with her Master and “leave” the Order entirely, everyone thought she had fallen to the dark side. Obi-Wan was devastated, and he spent several months looking for her because he refused to believe she’d actually fall. It was also clear that he was heartbroken that she left, especially knowing what they had given up in order to be Jedi. Upon ending the mission she returned to the Jedi and was then often sent on other undercover missions throughout the rest of her career (including one where she and Obi-Wan had to play a royal married couple which was super cute). Her actually being a Jedi Shadow is not official and is a fanfiction creation - but, it’s one that I 100% headcanon because it just makes sense.

Siri was very different when she returned from her long undercover mission, she had lived as a pirate for 4 years and so she was not as uptight and rule bound as she had been in her youth. She began to wear tight unisuits/flight suits instead of the traditional Jedi tunics and she had grown to be a bit more irreverent - even showing up late to Jedi Council summons. Obi-Wan didn’t seem to mind the change and the two became a formidable pair as Knights and they were sent together (with their Padawans who hated one another) on several missions.

Obi-Wan and Siri were always written as being equals, never one more powerful than the other. They often shared flirtatious banter (nothing new for Obi-Wan) and they seemed very much in sync on missions that it was clear they shared some kind of bond. They never seemed to let their failed romance stand between them and their duty, and only brought it up once more as adults to admit that they still loved each other, but were content to just be friends because it would be selfish of them to turn their backs on the Jedi simply for their love. Then upon Siri’s untimely death (she of course died in his arms) she told him that she’d always be with him. And he nearly fell to the dark side due to his anger, but stopped himself from killing the man who was responsible for Siri’s death because he knew she’d not want him to fall because of her.

In canon there isn’t much about her (yet), except that Siri is said to be the girl Obi-Wan would hold hands with under the table during mid-day meals which suggests that they had a bit of a secret affair/flirtation for many years.

2. Why don’t you like Satine? This is a bit of a loaded question because even though I tend to write fics centered more on Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the character of Satine or that I don’t swoon over their relationship from time to time thanks to some very well written fics ( @mahizli I’m looking your way). I just tend to write Siri more than Satine because I can relate to Siri more as a character, but in truth I also feel Siri and Obi-Wan’s relationship is a bit more well rounded than his and Satine’s

*ducks to avoid things being thrown at her*.

Satine and Obi-Wan have a beautiful love story, don’t get me wrong. But for me personally I am a little sick of the Romeo & Juliette/star crossed lovers angle. And that’s totally what they are - She’s a Mandalorian, He’s a Jedi, it’s a forbidden love not just because of his code, but because their “families” were mortal enemies. And I guess I’m just not super inspired by it. Not to mention that they met as children (apparently only 15 years old according to canon), confessed their undying love for one another after a year of knowing one another in a life or death situation and then pined for each other for the next 20 years until they were reunited...I just have a very hard time finding this story relatable (and hate to say it, plausible). Not that they couldn’t have felt love for one another as teenagers (especially in that situation), but that they still felt that same level of love 20 years later without ever seeing one another...at least with Siri they still had to interact with one another on a regular basis so it would be harder to push those feelings aside.

The other reason I have a hard time writing Satine and Obi-Wan is because the romantic love they seem to have in TCW is written to be very one sided in my opinion. While Obi-Wan clearly cares for her, and admits to having feelings for her at one time it’s only ever Satine who actually seems to want something with him in the current sense. Which honestly makes their relationship feels a bit cringy to me, it doesn’t feel like it’s on equal footing - and makes it seem like Satine is a bit obsessive (I don’t blame her, it is Obi-Wan after all). This is a similar argument I have about Padme’s character, I feel like we’re presented with these incredibly strong women characters who for whatever reason still fall apart when it comes to love...I think it’s a reflection of men trying to write women and it ends up being a bit of a fantasy (the sexy/badass woman who secretly needs a man to save her). So, to sum up - I really do love Satine’s character outside of her relationship with Obi-Wan.

Again, this is just MY interpretation of Satine and Obi-Wan’s relationship...I get other people tend to feel very differently and that’s wonderful!!

I will say, the thing I do like about Obi-Wan and Satine’s relationship and very much appreciate is how it is an opposite parallel to Anakin and Padme’s relationship. And it shows what a Jedi should’ve done - how you can’t have both a commitment to the Jedi Order and a marriage, but you can still care deeply about another person. I do very much appreciate that aspect of their relationship and it’s very well done from that perspective.

3. So, why SiriWan after all these years? Well, I’m drawn to Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship for several reasons, but mostly because they are written as equals/partners (as I had mentioned above), both have moments where you can see the love they hold for one another - their feelings are very much shared and not one sided, but above all it’s not the main defining factor of their relationship. They are Jedi and friends before anything else, and I love that! It may not be as flashy or maybe even as passionate as say Satine or Cody but to me it’s more full and well rounded. I can also see their relationship growing and changing over the years, they aren’t stuck in one place or in the past.

I also tend to find the Jedi culture more fascinating than the Mandalorians. I know, I know, I’m a heretic. That’s not to say, again that I don’t think Satine on her own isn’t fascinating, I just am a little tired of Mandalore’s importance in virtually every aspect of Star Wars these days and I feel like there is only so much you can do with Obi-Wan having feelings for a Mandalorian, where as him navigating a relationship with another Jedi is more interesting. The Jedi are allowed to be intimate with people, contrary to popular belief they are allowed to love, they just can’t become possessive/attached - I feel like two Jedi would have an easier time navigating that than someone who wasn’t raised with that same code. I think Siri and Obi-Wan have more opportunities to have a more realistic and adult relationship and I like writing/exploring that.

The other thing I like about Siri and Obi-Wan specifically is the fact that neither ever really considered leaving the Order for the other. They knew how important being a Jedi was to the other, and I think having a love interest that Obi-Wan didn’t consider leaving for is an important distinction.

Instead he thought they would be able to change the rules/code because he assumed it would be obvious that their love was pure and not an attachment. Now, obviously they both realized later that it was just foolish/young love talking (because I’m sure teenagers have to be extra careful of forming attachments), but what I really adore the concept that Obi-Wan “by the code” Kenobi had loved Siri so much that he’d even remotely consider the idea that he’d want the rules to change for her/them (and Siri “by the code” Tachi felt the same about him). There is something incredibly romantic about that - naïve, but romantic.

I also believe that romantic love doesn’t automatically equal “true love”. I personally feel that Obi-Wan and Siri have a love that is on such a deep level that their relationship doesn’t always have to be romantic. They simply just love one another, in whatever form that takes at any given period in time throughout their lives, sometimes it takes the form of just friends, sometimes lovers, sometimes romantic. And I wish we saw more relationships like that in various media. But I get why we don’t, they are harder to write and less overtly sexy/dramatic.

Also, when someone says the phrase:

“Forgive me if I still think I know you better than anyone.” (Siri)

And it’s followed immediately with:

“You do” (Obi-Wan)

My heart just melts, because that to me is love!!

4. So, you actually think Obi-Wan loved both Siri & Satine? Yes, I do...100%. I think they all loved other people at different points in their lives. I personally feel that most of Obi-Wan’s various ships (with exceptions of Master/Padawan ships...sorry, just not my bag) actually happened. I could see a young Obi-Wan having a fling with Quinlan Vos (I doubt they could handle more than that), I could definitely see him have an attraction/affection towards Cody (I don’t think given the power dynamic Obi-Wan would ever allow anything to actually happen between them though), I even believe he and Ventress had a rather confusing and passionate night together (maybe even more than one), I can see him easily having a relationship at one point with Taria Damsin (to which Siri would give him endless crap about because he seems to have a thing for Jedi Shadows). I’m sure he even had a relationship with Annileen on Tatooine to help find some comfort during his exile. To me all of that makes so much more sense than him (and Satine) pining away for one another for 20+ years.

Allowing Obi-Wan to have multiple loves in his life also helps showcase the idea of non-attachment. It’s not that Jedi promote promiscuity - though they won’t judge anyone for it (I see the Jedi very much in the mindset of: it’s your body/your choice) it’s that the idea of attachment means possessing someone, thinking you own someone and also putting that person’s value over others. The idea that Obi-Wan could find love and value in a multitude of lovers to me shows him capable of loving without attachment - He is able to let these people go when the relationship has run its course...it’s very healthy.

Not to mention that realistically people tend to have multiple relationships and loves throughout their lives. To only ever love one person is incredibly unrealistic, unhealthy and frankly screams attachment to me *cough Anakin, cough*.

In conclusion: If you’re still reading this (did you not have anything better to do with your time???) I do hope you have a bit more of an understanding why I personally like to write Obi-Wan and Siri’s relationship instead of his and Satine’s. Though if you read my fics (thank you if you do) I hope you realize that I try to not make the stories all about their relationship - yes, it pops up here and there, but I try not to make it the focal point. I believe both Obi-Wan and Siri are so much more than just a romance and that’s what I really love writing.

But I raise a glass and toast all of those who prefer to ship Obitine or CodyWan or Ventrobi (or whatever Obi-Wan and Quilan’s ship name is) - I love reading your take on those relationships and I hope you don’t mind if an old SiriWan shipper joins the fun!

Phew, rant over...man, does anyone else have to defend their OTP preferences to strangers?? It’s just so odd to me!

Thanks for reading, and if you’re a Siri, Obi-Wan or SiriWan fan drop me a line - I can seriously talk about them for hours!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #sw meta #long rant #long post #sorry yall #my otp for life #siri tachi #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #siriwan #obi wan x siri #why do people care who I ship?#jedi culture #jedi apprentice #jedi quest

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aggresivelyfriendly · 3 years

Text

Concert review DALLAS-LOVE ON TOUR! 9/11/2021

At the ending of her set, Jenny Lewis, she of the sparkle tights and witchy ways, said “this really is love on tour!”

Couldn’t agree with this statement more.

Yesterday was a day of love, light, and spontaneity after a long year and a half of few opportunities for impulsive fun. My journey to Dallas starts before the road trip begins with a little by play in a group chat- “I have been kinda thinking about the Dallas show…” I jot off.

“I have a hotel room and am driving anyways.” Is the reply.

It might as well be a flapping red cape to a bull.

I casually mention the idea to my husband, raitionalizing it’s on the weekend and makes more sense than the San Antonio ticket I was still mourning selling. He’s neutral.

I’m preoccupied, planning, and prepping.

The next morning, I’m in the group chat. I’m coming. Plans are made, husband on board and thanked profusely. I’m loved and going to the joy place, Harry’s room.

My love tour begins in Dallas!

One problem, I don’t have a ticket. Skye is sending me options, they’re more than I want to pay, and I’m watching stub hub like a hawk until I’m driving to the rendezvous point and can’t check for an hour.

Skye is road trip ready and we are in the car, but still no ticket. She’s nervous. But, it’s all gonna work out, I feel it, the love.

My first feeler comes in, a ticket, face value, 300 level. It’s mine, but it won’t download. As a distraction, I hop over to tumblr, another line. Lower bowl!

“Where’s it at?” Skye asks.

“103”. I say and fill in the details.

“That’s right next to me!” It’s as close to a squeal as Skye gets. I do squeal.

The rest of the drive, getting ready, dinner, and the walk to the event go as smoothly as 1D Harry’s face.

The line not so much! So long, but moved in chunks. We amused ourselves looking at the outfits!

Harries! You are a beautiful, creative bunch.

We were in our seats by Jenny’s second song. Love her voice, dig the vibe, like her music.

But her statement, about it really being love on tour, that’s what I’ll remember.

And will I ever get over Harry’s pre show playlist. Shout out to Let’s get it on before Sweet Thang! I see you, villain!

Harry’s box goes under the stage, the band comes in brimming with energy and he rises, right in the center of the diamond. What a metaphor that is-Harry our diamond in the rough, front and center.

Golden! I’ll never be over you. I feel this song like sun on my skin and wind whipping over my knuckles stuck out the windows on PCH.

Carolina, you’re not my fave, but I dig you at a show girl. Do your thing!

Adore you is perfect, and note changes baby! Note changes!

Only angel- so glad you are still with us!!

She! Mitch! I love the way Harry highlights Mr. Rowland. He moves into the shadows and let’s Mitch strut.

Falling, I love the little taste of two ghosts, and though you aren’t my jam, I still teared up. This man gets better and better!

Sunflower, joy in a bop! The band is so fun and long live Harry making the silly sounds and playing with the audience.it’s show 4 and he’s ramping up. More interactions every show. These are my shit!

This might have been when Harry spotted a man! “Jeff, Jeff, Jeff!” Harry wanted him to have a good time, and he was the belle of the ball for a minute!

He also sang Happy Birthday, but threatened to only do it to the first sign holder he saw! But he was a benevolent deity as always.

I’m taking a break- cuz WOMAN, always forever, under my skin and on it. Also, so many sexy shapes and lots of beautiful ass shots.

He gave us a choice, ass or face! I really am at a loss for a preference in these satin pants with his tighty whiteys! You flower, you feast for my eyes sir!

I spent all of cherry filming for @dirtystyles. The harmonies here are so pretty, and I love ny’s voice with Harry. Elin was hard to see most of the show for me, but she was so darling here.

Lights Up, my baby, I do know who I am when I am in this room too! That bass drop still owns me.

Canyon moon- the arrangement is beyond amazing. This was probably my least favorite song on Fine Line, but I freaking love it live!

TPWK followed by WMYB is like a joy machine- love love!

Fine line may be my favorite song, it basically got me through the pandemic. My one complaint is that he didn’t do the last we’ll be alright. If he hadn’t have been so much chattier and just a smiley amazing example of love on legs I might not forgive him.

Will SOTT ever not choke me up?

Watermelon Sugar is fucking a bop/ end of! It’s sexy and I’ll show you exactly what it tastes like.

Kiwi- you beautiful bitch, I will dance myself into a sweaty mess and feel enlivened anytime, every time. Like WMYB- if Harry always shows this much joy doing a song he’s done so many times before, I’ll show up to watch. He shows, we show. I’m still fucking into it!! Forever into it! I’ll never be over Kiwi or Harry Styles.

I can’t tell you all how much this fandom, the community and all of it means to me. Harry’s room might be my favorite place and you my favorite collection of people! Thank you @styloff for helping me find a home for my extra ticket, @chasm2018 and @greeneyesharry for finding me the seat right next to @yessoupy!

And @yessoupy! Thank you for the encouragement to find the spontaneous woman I loved in me and thought I lost and for great conversation, sing alongs, and adventure! I love you! Let’s keep the tour going tomorrow!

#Harry styles #hslot #Harry styles love on tour #Dallas #my show #9/11/2021 #meant to be

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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hi! i really liked your sungyoon fanfiction, light the pyres—apocalypse aus are great. very nervous to ask for your 4th anniv event but could i perhaps get kang yeosang + the title "3 of hearts?" (if anyone reading here knows what show it's from ily!)

hi love! light the pyres is actually one of the works I'm most proud of so it makes me so happy to hear that you liked it! thank you for your request - I'm not sure what 3 of hearts it from lol (maybe one of my followers does), but I hope you still enjoy this!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

I guess this could be seen as a sort of spinoff of Kingdom (read the series here) - I haven’t posted the next parts yet, but this takes place in the Queendom of Hearts, which is where Checkmate is set :D like Kingdom, it’s heavily inspired by Marissa Meyer’s book “Heartless” - the story of a queen who went mad over love >:)

Uh so TXT Yeonjun is technically here but please don’t take my characterization of him as anything even close to who he is irl.... just think of it as me taking just his name and slapping it on a character I made I’m sorry

Title: Three of Hearts

Pairing: Yeosang x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Triggers: mentions of blood and death (semi-graphic)

They said you were born under the three of hearts, a spell of kind fortune, a card of good omen. "Your child will be beautiful," the diviner said when she placed you in your mother's arms. "They will love deeply, and in return, they will be loved greatly."

It was a blessed birth for the Kingdom of Hearts, whose rulers, though loved, had not been able to secure an heir for many years. Already the conception of a child was a miracle - to have you born under such an auspicious card only heightened the excitement, cast even more light on a day already filled with laughter and joy. Your parents showered you with love, and as the years passed, you grew in blissful happiness, surrounded by those who adored you. And truly, it seemed you were the three of hearts personified - for with you were two boys, Yeosang and Yeonjun, your best friends, who followed you everywhere you went.

It was inevitable, then, people whispered, that at least two of you would fall in love.

At the age of six, seven, ten, even twelve, you could ignore this. You could play the innocent card that came so easily to those born under the three of hearts, bat your eyes and cock your head and ask “What do you mean?” in reply to the questions people asked - do you have a crush? I’m sure you do. It must be on one of the boys you’re always running around with, yes? But as you grew older and the question of to whom you would extend your hand in marriage became increasingly important, your eyes began to fixate on soft blond hair and warm brown eyes, smile widening in the presence of a deep, gentle voice accompanied by the loveliest sparkle in his eyes.

The traits of a certain best friend and heir to the Kang family fortune.

He offers a courtship under the flowering wisteria tree just under your window, pale cheeks tinted with blush as he stutters his way through a short confession. Your heart warms, lifts, bursts with joy as you accept with a smiling nod, rejoicing that you have found a match who will love you as much as you love him. Three of hearts, you think giddily - I will be loved as much as I give it.

The stages of courtship seem to pass by all too slowly and at the same time, all too quickly. Caught up in a whirl of fine clothes and presents and ceremonies, you fall asleep every night eager to wake at dawn, if only to see Yeosang’s face the next day. Every moment with him seems too short, and every moment with him feels too long.

One afternoon under the wisteria tree, you complain of this. Yeosang laughs at your indignation, though when you go to hit his shoulder, he catches your fingers with soft, warm hands, before kissing your forehead gently. “It will be all right,” he murmurs, pulling away just enough for you to see the sparkle in his eyes. “We’ll have a lifetime together, after this.”

A lifetime. Born under the three of hearts, destined for a life of love and happiness, you believed it.

So much, in fact, that you forget to watch out for the second best friend at your side.

It never occurred to you to take caution with Yeonjun. He was your best friend. Even upon the announcement of your engagement, he only ever smiled and congratulated the two of you, knocking your heads together teasingly when you got too mushy for his taste. Yeosang even asked him to be one of the groomsmen when the wedding date was set.

So you never notice the way Yeonjun’s gaze always lingers on you a little too long, the way his eyes darken whenever you place a chaste kiss on Yeosang’s lips. You do notice that he spends more and more time away from you, away from Yeosang as the wedding approaches, but it’s easy to put it down to affairs of the Choi family that you simply aren’t privy to. Perhaps something has gone wrong. Yeonjun would tell you about it in due time, wouldn’t he?

On the night before your wedding, you and Yeosang dance together under a sea of sparkling stars, white engagement outfits shimmering under the night sky. The people cheer. Your parents wipe away tears. You almost cry, too, wrapped in the warmth of Yeosang’s arms around your waist, his eyes smiling into yours.

You part ways with promises of tomorrow and a lifetime hanging on your lips. When you finally fall asleep, it is to dreams of a beautiful future, complete with Yeosang by your side.

Instead, you wake up in a world where he is dead.

They say the servant who found the body went mad afterward. You don’t blame them. When you saw the body covered in its rips and stains of red, it felt like a part of your mind simply disappeared. Scrambled. Something. All you could see was the body splashed with blood, unseeing eyes wide open and glassed with the sheen of death.

And there’s no time to grieve, either, because the next day, the Choi family storms the castle with shouts of a coup and rebellion on their lips.

All you can do is stare into Yeonjun’s stony expression as he orders the execution of your parents right before your eyes.

He finds you in your rooms a week later, a beautiful prison of silk and satin that they took away so you wouldn’t hang yourself before he came. His eyes soften upon seeing you, but when he reaches out a hand, you slap it away.

Only one word leaves your lips. “Why?”

Love, he says. Love for you. Love that burned fierce, hot, so unlike the soft warmth of Yeosang’s hand, love that burned so bright it couldn’t stand to fall second to the gentleness of Yeosang’s smile. His heart burned for you, beat for you, enough to plan all of this, enough to ask, even now -

“Will you marry me?”

The wisteria tree outside your window is in full bloom under a bright, cloudless sky. A mockery of the day Yeosang asked for your hand and you gave him your heart.

In the absence of blades and bullets, no one should underestimate the power that fingernails can do to raw skin and bone.

“You worthless, worthless human being,” you snarl, even as guards drag you back from Yeonjun’s bleeding face. “Worthless - worthless - I will never marry you -”

“You will,” Yeonjun snarls back, now a safe distance away from the blood caking your nails. “You will or you will die.”

You don’t die. You almost do, jamming the lock on your door and smashing the fortified window with a superhuman strength you believe Yeosang and your parents have lent you for one night, just one night before leaping into the branches of the wisteria tree, crashing to the ground in a heap of branches and flowers and glass. They nearly catch you - an arrow pierces your shoulder and another streaks so close it almost cuts off your ear - but you escape. And hide. For days, weeks, months...

Until you return with a sword and murder in your eyes, slashing through every guard on your way into the castle until you come across Yeonjun sitting upon your father’s throne, the crown of your family on his head.

“Would you?” he whispers, the tip of your sword positioned over his heart. “Would you, truly?”

A blank smile curves your lips. “Of course,” you whisper. “Just the same way you would.”

They crown you queen with triumph in their eyes, songs of a royal who avenger their lover’s death when a jealous suitor got in the way. You listen to it with stony eyes and teeth gritted behind your lips, especially when they speak of the three of hearts, blessed above all, destined for a life of love -

There is no love left in your heart that wasn’t taken away with the death of Yeosang and your family.

You execute the Chois. You execute their allies. You root through the kingdom, imprisoning those with even a semblance of a relationship to the man who killed your love, who took the blessing of your card away. The songs die away, replaced by whispers of a queen gone mad with the loss of their love. Triumphant shouts of a blessed three of hearts turn into murmurs of a curse, a new meaning to your card - perhaps not one destined for love, but one whose life will end in tragedy. Pain. Suffering.

They are wrong. Your life was full of love, love that you gave on your own and love that was given by those around you. It was the cause of your happiness and the reason for your suffering - love killed Yeosang and your family, just as it killed the last bit of humanity in you.

The words of the diviner mock your grief.

“Your child will be beautiful.”

Not as beautiful as he ever was.

“They will love deeply.”

Where did that get you?

“And in return, they will be loved greatly.”

Where did that get him?

No longer do they speak of the three of hearts as a blessing, as a sign of blissful omen. Instead, they speak of it as a curse, a curse of love, a curse of madness, a curse of tragedy to follow at every bend.

Good. They’re right.

The love that the heavens wrought never brought anything more than pain, anyway.

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 14

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1620

Warnings: Swearing, bit of violence if you looking very closely

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

So Hi again everyone! one more chapter to go then we're on the first Avenger, I just wanna say thank you to each and everyone of you all for taking the time to sit down and read this, it means the absolute world to me! Anyways I'll shut up, enjoy chapter 14 everyone <3

Now don’t ask me how they did it, but somehow my idiots managed to open my front door without a key, if I wasn’t so pissed at them for getting into a fight for the 5th night in a row, I’d be tearing them a new one for that alone. Completely and uttered annoyed with the pair of em, I may of opened my door with a bit more force than necessary and twatted the back of it on the coat rack, not my best moment but at least nothing broke. I was fully prepared to lose my shit with both of em, but one look of them both sat at the table, covered head to toe in bruises and cuts made all my anger disappear, I can’t be mad at them when they both look absolutely exhausted.

Wordlessly I crossed the landing into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and spare clothes I kept for the boys, setting em down on the dresser just outside my room before heading off to change into my satin pyjamas. It’s times like this that make me so frustrated with them both, I know why they do what they do, they’re trying to make the world a better place in their own way, but I just wished that they wouldn’t do it in a way that put them in danger. Coming back out into the kitchen was almost like walking into a morgue, neither of them said a thing to each other whilst I was gone, the looks their faces absolutely shattered my small, minuscule heart to pieces.

It was pretty easy to see from the slumped shoulders and the way they both avoided eye contact that they were ashamed of what happened tonight, and that made me feel like the biggest piece of shit ever, I trusted these boys with my life, and I know that they would never start a fight if they didn’t have a reason for it. Hell, I didn’t care about the reason why anymore. Without saying a word to them, I went over to the sink and filled a bowl with warm water, I knew that one of em would have got the rags out already, more than likely Buck cause Steve’s short ass can’t reach the cabinet…I’m joking I love him really, but he’s soooo fucking short it’s unreal..

I’d barely had time to put the bowl on the table before Steve started to speak.

“We’re sorry Y/n…Those guys were erm..saying some pretty messed up things about you and I couldn’t help it, I saw red and lost my temper. Be angry with me, not a Buck he was just lookin’ out for me”.

The sigh that left my body couldn’t be helped, as much as I love Steve he couldn’t lie to save his life, though normally I wouldn’t put it past him to start a fight over me, the way Buck reacted made it pretty clear that the hot-headed love of my life started this one, the sharp look he gave for Steve was about as subtle as a sneeze in a silent library. The sudden ache that settled over my chest wasn’t foreign to me one bit, it happened every time I looked at Bucky, as much as I wanted to tell him how I felt I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea, he loves me like a sister and I should be happy with that, I’d rather have that than nothing at all…

“Steve…it’s not that, it’s the fact that you guys would start a fight over something so silly, I love you both to the moon and back, but I don’t care about what people say about me, I’m upset that you put yourselves in danger over me. I’m not worth the trouble it would cause and after the shit I’ve done, it’s not like I don’t deserve it.”

Bucky was silent the whole time, at times he looked like he wanted to disagree but a look from Steve shut it down, we all fell into a comfortable silence after that, which for the 3 of us is pretty fucking weird considering Steve and I are normally annoying the hell outta Bucky, what can I say me, and Steve have amazing singing voices. I stole a quick look at the pair of them, considering they both looked like shit it was actually a very difficult choice about which idiot I should clean up first, then I remembered that Steve has the immune system of an asthmatic grandma, so I dunked his cut-up hands in the warm water a little bit harder than I meant to, but I’d be lying if I said the squeal he let out wasn’t funny.

It really didn’t take me long to get him cleaned up at all, then again I do this like 8 times a week with the moron, you’d think after about 10 split lips the kid would learn his lesson, but apparently not cause he’ll be back at it in the morning. I need to start charging him for medical supplies, I’m practically a hospital at this point. As Steve stood up to leave, he paused and looked towards me with his sad puppy eyes, and I’m no monster so of course I gave him a hug, thank god he’s not as short as when were kids or his face would be right in my chest region, I don’t think an accidental motorboat is on his list of top 10 things to do. With one final look from Buck, Stevie boy took his clothes and went into the spare room, leaving us both to talk which could take a while cause we’re both stubborn asses. Que the awkward silence….

“I am sorry Doll…I just couldn’t stand back and hear those assholes talk about you like that. I love ya too much for that…”

Okay ouch, the sister zoning wasn’t necessary Barnaby.

I knew in my heart I meant every single word he said, Bucky was never the one to start the fights unless it was over his family and I understand that I do, if I were in the same position I’d do the sae for them. The dejected sigh that left me wasn’t missed by him, I chose to ignore his reaction to it and moved closer to him, the cuts on his hands were a little deeper than Steve’s, not that it stopped me from slamming his hands into the hot water as a tiny bit of revenge. Because I’m such a nice person, I chose to ignore the hiss of pain and glare directed at me from my good ol’ Bucky boy, plus I was focusing on cleaning his cuts.

“Buck…I don’t need you to say sorry, I understand why you did it, I just hate that you can be so careless about your own safety, what if you get into a fight whilst I’m working, and something happens? I’d never be able to forgive myself that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, I love you and Steve so so much, but it hurts me to see you do this to yourselves….”.

The time we spent sat together was lost to me, Bucky didn’t say anything after that and left me to clean his hands whilst he got lost in his thoughts, not that I minded. It’s the times like these that help me realise just how much pressure he puts on himself, it’s like he has to be the one to hold up the weight of the world, but he doesn’t realise he doesn’t have to do it by himself and it breaks my heart. But I wished that he didn’t tilt his head down when he’s feeling sombre and sad because I can’t see his fucking face, it kinda makes cleaning his cuts a bit hard ya know ? Reluctantly I stood up and went back to the sink, the rag I used to clean his hands was beyond filthy at this point and I don’t really fancy wiping ouch juice all over his face, by the time I’d turned back around Buck had his head in his hands.

You know it’s bad when he’s like this, Buck never lets anyone see just how much stress he’s under, the only other person that’s ever seen him in this state is Steve, I moved back over to him and placed the rag back down on the table, my main focus now being cheering up my Bucky. As it turns I didn’t have to do much, once he saw my shadow in front of him, his head lifted automatically as his eyes searched mine, the level of exhaustion in his eyes was almost enough to make me cry, I couldn’t help the hand that reached out to cup his cheek, nor the other hand that began to run through his hair. It was almost like I put him under a spell, Buck’s eyes closed in relief as his head fell forward to rest on my upper stomach, at some point his looped his arms around my waist to pull me closer to him, I couldn’t help but pepper the top of his head in small kisses to try and cheer him up.

This is the part of him I love the most, the moments where he isn’t afraid to let his guard down and for once let someone help him, to take the burden off his shoulders and relax for a while, even if he doesn’t love me the way I love him, I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He has and always will be my home….nothing can or will change that.

And that's Number 14 done and dusted, let me know what you all think, thank you for reading!

All My Love,

Rose xxx

@purelydarling

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america #captain america x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #reader #fanfic #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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catharrington · 3 years

Text

I surrender, I surrender to you. (T, 2.9k words)

@harringroveweekoflove day 4: TEACHER AU, SCHOOL DANCE. Featuring aged up, and friends in love seriously pining. Lame flirting and lame dancing. Please listen to the song Surrender by Suicide on repeat 🖤thanks.

***

The door to the roof was emergency access only. If you opened it, a silent alarm would go off in half a minute if you didn’t have the code to disarm it. This kept all the students from wandering. But the code that sat readily available on a bulletin board in the teachers lounge, didn’t stop them from wandering.

It was the best place to come for a smoke break. Hands down. Sure beat sneaking around the bushes in the back of school, and way more space than the janitors closet. Didn’t feel haunted like the basement did with all its rustling, moaning furnaces.

Billy pushed the door open and punched in the alarm code with his middle finger. Using the rest to clutch a reliable zippo lighter to his palm.

As soon as the door closed with a metallic hiss, and the light above the flat plastic box on the handle flicked to green, Billy was reaching into his suit’s inner pockets. Felt along the silk inside until he found the crinkled pack of smokes he kept.

Inside, the school’s prom was raging just fine. Billy had spent all night watching over it from the edge of the dance floor. Looking the other way as some dancers let their hands wander, as scared lips searched out for a romantic first kiss.

He had been to all his own back in sunny California, spent them doing a lot more than cute kisses pressed to shoulders.

The night brought back lots of memories of bruised wrists hidden by satin shirts, fast cars with wide back seats.

Billy lit his cigarette quickly, pulling until his lungs were filled to the brim with ash. With burning and black and red things that messed him up inside.

He exhaled the day from his lungs, but kept the ash. Let his eyes drift closed as he savored it.

From the other side of the roof he didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until it was far too apparently late. As his eyes fluttered back open, Billy followed the heated gaze on his skin. Turned until he found the farthest corner of the roof and the brick half-wall edge.

Firstly, he noticed the black suit jacket thrown over the brick. As if it weren’t expensive and the texture could ruin it. As if he didn’t care if it were to tumble off the edge to the ground.

Then Billy’s eyes drifted up along a smoke trail that wafted just above the suit jacket. A thin line of white smoke that lead back from over the edge towards a pair of pretty lips.

“Mr. Harrington,” Billy greeted.

The man just smiled. His lips holding that damn smoke curled around it like some blue-collared Cheshire Cat.

Steve, Steve Harrington, was the resident music teacher. His class room was underfunded and made of things he mostly brought in on donation. The children loved him, even if he was hardly over their own age, self-taught, and said crazy things like he didn’t believe in homework.

A large grand piano sat in the middle of his classroom. And Steve usually sat at it. At least, he did when Billy would find some excuse to come in and steal a glance.

Billy couldn’t get over those long legs kicked out, his dress slacks lifting up to show off his ankles. The sweater he wore that day, because he always complained about the old building being too drafty, pushed up to his elbows. And his moles. All the moles dotting up and down the back of his arms. Over his skinny, vein covered hands as they danced across the ivory keys of his grand piano.

Billy wasn’t blind. He knew he lingered too long and too obviously at Steve’s door for his own liking, but he couldn’t help it.

Between his melted chocolate colored sexy mess of a hairstyle and his vintage movie star good looks, Steve was something else. Effortlessly funny, and gentle with the firm understanding of a father. He was amazing to watch or simply be around.

And that smile, that wide real smile that reached up all the way to create crows feet next to his pretty brown eyes.

It took Billy’s breath away. It was, something else.

“Didn’t think you of all people would be skippin’ out on that shindig down there?” Billy kept his voice low. As quiet as the fading night around them. But his throat couldn’t help the gravel laughter that joined his words.

Steve shrugged. Lifting his arms to around his elbows so his whole body moved.

Steve turned and Billy noticed then that he must had been worrying at his long, coffee brown hair all night long. It had gone oily under his fingers. There were some strands coming free of how he had it pushed back. Mostly on the sides, right behind his ear, some were springing free. Reaching out for those mole covered cheeks like vines wanting to kiss. Curls of feather soft hair just out on display, and tempting billy to his edge.

The view off the side of the school roof was pretty, long lines of Indiana forests stretching below them. And the colors of the nights was a water color swirl of navy blue and royal purple twinkling with stars as they turned on one by one.

But, Billy was looking at the curly pieces of hair behind Steve’s ears.

“Just needed a break,” Steve spoke softly. “Headache. I don’t do well with lights and loud, loud music. I’ve had one too many concussions as a teenager.” And as he explained he chuckled. Like it was simply life and didn’t make Billy’s blood boil in his veins at the idea of Steve getting hurt.

But Steve just shrugged again. Flicking the butt of his spent smoke off the edge before he lit up another one. Trying to chain smoke away a headache.

“What about you, Hargrove? Thought you were enjoying enabling all those troublemakers down there?”

Billy whistled low. His shoes kicked up the tiny pieces of gravel across the roof as he walked closer to the edge. “That obvious?” He asked.

“Might of well have spiked the punch yourself,” Steve smiled, wonderfully wide and real, it made Billy’s heart swell up into his throat.

“Damn, I might get in trouble then,” Billy said in a laugh and an exhale of smoke. Mostly about the comment. Mostly about that damn smile.

He pressed his hip to the edge of the brick wall. Steve was standing a bit back away from it. His body turned to look out over the view. Billy didn’t want all that. Leaned back casually on the wall facing inwards as if they best view was Steve’s pretty face itself.

A minute of comfortable relaxation ticked by. Their senses going dark and black and burnt as they created a designs of clouds around their heads. Watching them gather and fade as the smoke cloud was too weak to carry rain. So it drifted up into the night sky to join the hidden mass of starlight under all the polluting lights of the school building.

Billy was stealing glances at Steve. Trying to make it not obvious.

Finally, Billy thinks he’s supposed to be the one to talk. He wipes his cigarette across the brick to make a line of black. Watches it for a second as he mutters, “What is he going to do? Fire me? Who else is going to teach these pipsqueaks how to understand poetry?”

“Good point, no one in their right mind actually enjoys poetry,” Steve shoots back.

Billy’s laugher from that is from deep in his chest. Rolling out through his ribs in a way he hasn’t felt tonight. In a way he wants to bottle and keep forever.

“Ya'know,” he starts slowly. Thinking about his words carefully. “I’ve got a bottle of aspirin in my desk. If that headache is still bothering you, Harrington?”

And Steve’s eyes flick towards him quickly. Searching the space between for any meaning to those words other than kindness. There’s a worry etched into Steve’s brows. And again, Billy’s griped with a certain anger for whoever put it there.

He gives himself a moment to think about it. Looking from between Billy’s face to the ground below them. Kicking his fancy brown dress shoe into the dirt.

“We’ve been away for a while. Really should be getting back?” Steve’s whisper is so quiet. Even he must know that ain’t an option.

Reaching forward, across the little space left between them, Billy brushes his hand across the slumped fabric of Steve’s jacket. He pets it once, twice, his fingers lingering on the well-loved softness that’s been put into the expensive suit, before he gathers it up in his fist. Lifting it from the brick so he can drape it over his arm.

He’s watching Steve the whole time. Wondering what the pretty boy is going to do about it.

“Mr. Hargrove,” Steve talks around the last puff of his cigarette. It’s tobacco burning bright orange to the filter before he flicks that one too over the side of the building.

Turning then to level a playful glare towards Billy.

“What’s another minute?” Billy scoffs. “Well, another 30 minutes?”

“We’ve got to get back!” Steve hisses. “If the principal notices they are down two chaperones then he will crucify us!”

“That’s a pretty poetic way of saying we’re dead if we get caught.” Billy laid his hand over Steve’s jacket. Pulling it so that it was on the other side of his body from Steve. So that if he had to leave, if he really didn’t want to take Billy up on his so generous offer of aspirin, he’d have to brush up along Billy’s side to fetch his jacket.

Crossing his arms back over his chest, Steve worried his bottom lip. Thinking, gears turning, under that head of perfectly disheveled hair.

Billy couldn’t help but follow the motion of his worrying. Swiping his tongue over his own bottom lip as he thought about how Steve’s teeth worked. How they brought the blood to the top layer of skin. How it looked cherry red and wet, as if it were stained from the punch bowl at the prom still dancing below their feet.

“20 minutes,” Steve haggled. His eyebrow quirking up in a challenge.

Billy shook his head. “Says right on the bottle takes 30 minutes to kick in. Wouldn’t want to take you back to the party still hurting, pretty boy.”

And he let that slip. That wasn’t supposed to come out. Billy’s eyes widened in reflex at his old behavior. If he could reach out and pluck those words out of the air he would. It wasn’t poetic, it wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t the best way to flirt with the music teacher he has been silently crushing on for the past year.

But then, he noticed that Steve didn’t pull back. Or sneer, or draw his sword in a one on one combat for the disgrace of his honor.

He kept standing on the roof of their school. Kept his arms crossed over his chest to combat the cold. His button up shirt pulled tightly across his broad shoulders.

Kept smiling under the glow of the moon and the artificial yellow lights dotting around them. And just like his Cupid bow shaped lips, his cheeks were flushed a brilliant red blush.

“Okay, yeah. Sure, Hargrove,” he stuttered out. Lifting one hand to wave towards the door.

Billy’s smirk was wide and wolffish, brilliant and happy.

He followed where Steve was gesturing. Opening the heavy metal door with a creaking groan of the hinges. Stepping aside to let him pass. Steve’s shoulder brushed along the fatty part of Billy’s bicep as he went

Down the steps they start picking up the quiet notes of the prom music still going on. Now that it was later on into the night, starting to become too late to be out, the music has mellowed out to softer love songs.

The staircase to the roof wasn’t decorated like the rest of the school. None of the red steamers or sweetheart pink balloons.

But as the gentle rhythm trickled up the steps, it sure felt like Billy was right back on that floor. And he had never felt it before the way he had now. When he was a kid he was a rebel without a cause. Driving fast cars and leaving hearts broken behind him.

Valentine’s days were always something to get done. To get to the end of so he could jump in bed with his prize.

Now, as the melody of the song so slowly so softly floated by, he finally was felling those butterflies.

Was thinking this is how it felt being a kid and timidly kissing the shoulder of your dance partner. Your heart so swollen and raw just wishing they feel the same way. That they will smile at your lame attempt to get their attention, and bend down to give you a real kiss.

Billy felt his feet stop at a halfway platform. A shiny metal thing that groaned dangerously under them. It wasn’t a dance floor. Wasn’t painted wood of a basket ball court either, but it felt like it. Gods, did it feel like it.

The song echoes all around them. Distorting the voices and pianos and making it ethereal in a way he didn’t want to ever end. A spell he never wanted broken.

Then, so gently it was almost startling. Almost made him jump from his vibrating skin. Steve sipped his hand into the one Billy was using to hold his coat.

Billy jerked to watch him. Thinking this was it, Steve had changed his mind and was going back to play babysitter for the rest of night like a responsible teacher.

But, he instead wrapped those gorgeous piano player fingers around Billy’s own and claimed them. Moved them so they were wrapped up too busy to hold the jacket anymore.

It tumbled down to the metal floor below them.

“Tell me if I’m reading the room wrong,” Steve whispered. Trying not to be louder than the song. Trying to stay in the moment of the reverberating chorus. “I’m not good with poetry, but I know a romantic moment when it plays on the radio.”

And he lead Billy’s hand to his waist. Leaving his hand touching ever so softly on the sensitive skin of the back of Billy’s hand.

And he used his other hand to cradle the back of Billy’s neck. Those fingers playing over the shaved short hairs there like ivory. As skilled as he is in every instrument he touches.

Making Billy completely breathless. Making him an audience to the way Steve begins to sway to the song. Following along as their teacher’s dress shoes click against the floor.

“I think you’re better at reading than you let on, Harrington,” he breaths. So low, so gentle, just like his hands as he wills up the courage to rest them on Steve’s hips.

His thumbs find the brown leather belt Steve wears all the time. And he worries circles into the leather. Round and round.

The same circle that Steve’s leading them in. Swaying back and forth to the music so damn easily it’s mesmerizing. It’s easy to follow right along where he’s lead.

Steve’s hands come up to wrap around Billy’s shoulders. Takes a step even closer.

His face is handsome in the low light of the staircase to the rooftop. His whole face, from his hair to the tip of his thin nose, is sparkling more than even the sky they just left behind. His eyes are intoxicating to watch. Half lidded and dark.

Billy feels his fingers grip harder on Steve’s belt as he dips close to his face to talk right into the blushing parts of his cheek.

“You’ve cured my headache,” his breath is warm across Billy’s skin. It makes him shiver.

Steve leans back to watch for a reaction. A playful quirk that makes his nose scrunch up.

Billy swoops forward the inches between them to catch those perfect lips in a kiss.

It’s slow, and soft, and it takes every damn thing Billy’s got in his whole body not to melt into the floor right there. Not to give into the way Steve’s lips are so warm pressed to his own. How he tastes like a more expensive brand of cigarettes. And how Billy can feel the way Steve’s smiling still into his kiss.

It makes him whimper low, a pleading thing that sounds much more broken than he feels.

Billy actually feels a lot more whole than he has in a long time. Like a piece of him he’s been ignoring has finally come to dance. Feels like a side of him he wants to look in the mirror and see. Not the rebel, or the self assured ass who’s got so many walls up he can’t see what’s in front of him.

No, this was a kid who’s gotten his first kiss at a school dance. And, to make it perfect, from the guy he’s been crushing on all year long. From the prom king himself.

They part with a smile and a low laugh. Listen as the song switches to something just as slow and perfect for another cheek to cheek dance.

Billy lays his head down on Steve’s shoulder. Pulls him in even closer. But leaving enough space for their feet to keep swaying back and forth to the music.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #my fic #steve/billy #harringrove fanfic #harringroveweekoflove #harringrove week of love

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 7)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: descriptions of vomiting, borderline nsfw, a hobbit reference, fluff as always

words: 4.3k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: y’all are gonna think these bad things didn’t happen but like. tour straight from hell or something. anyways! a few chapters left, and then this baby is done. I’M SORRY THIS IS A BEEFY CHAPTER IT’S IMPORTANT FOR PLOT STUFF kinda. hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

----------

“As long as I don’t have to room with Pagey over here, I’m fine with anything.”

“Hey! Bonzo, come on!”

“What? You snore.”

Touching down in Detroit, the band drives down to the hotel, set on a good night’s sleep before a crucial performance. Stuck in the lobby, jetlag slowing their movements as their eyes drift shut briefly, they attempt to sort out the rooms for their stay. With three rooms available, the five of them work out who gets the coveted single room.

“I think Jimmy and Robert should take a room together: everyone already thinks they’re together anyways. I’ll take the solo room.”

Robert squawks in surprise, which turns into a full-blown coughing fit, as he nearly doubles at the waist from the force. Layla brings a hand to his back, rubbing a soothing circle into the fabric of his light shirt. How he wasn’t shivering in the face of Detroit in January was beyond her. The coughing finally ceases, and Robert sucks in a breath, breathing ragged from the strain.

“Are you alright, Robert?”

“Of course, little dove,” Robert answers, patting the hand that now rests on his shoulder. “My throat is just a tad dry, I bet.”

“Okay…”

“If you don’t mind,” Robert moves toward the sitting area behind them, casting a hand out dramatically to show it off, as though it were the height of luxury. “I’ll be over here, resting my weary legs.”

With a puzzled glance towards Robert, the group continues bickering.

“Jonesy, you know Jimmy’s gonna want to room with his petal,” Bonzo says, emphasizing the nickname, and Layla didn't even need to see his face to detect the smirk that was surely playing on his lips. “Robert can room with you, so I can have the solo room.”

“Excuse me, do we not get a say in this?” Jimmy asks, hands gesticulating wildly as he speaks. His cheeks are suspiciously flushed, as if he was embarrassed by Bonzo’s teasing. He’d never admit it, but the pink flooding his cheeks serves as evidence.

“Nope.” Jonesy and Bonzo reply in unison.

Robert, uncharacteristically silent, slithers up behind them, standing from his post on the comfortable lobby chair. Spotted by the concierge at the front desk, he puts a long finger up to his lips, and sticks a hand towards the solo room key that rests on the counter. Snatching it up with practiced ease, Robert smirks, and walks carefully back to his seat. Layla, casting an eye over the remaining keys, notices the disappearance, and locks eyes with the rest of the band.

“Guys… Where’d the solo key go?”

“What?”

“It was— It was just here!”

“Well,” Robert stretches as he stands, unfurling his long limbs. Raising his hand, the stolen key dangling from it like precious, golden treasure, he steps backwards jauntily. “I had better get to my room, now. It’s been lovely chatting.”

With that, he’s off, scrambling for the elevators, leaving his friends in the dust. Bonzo and Jonesy share a glance, and lunge for a key, walking away from the couple, who look after them with wide eyes.

“Do I really snore that bad?”

“I mean…”

“I’m injured, that means you can’t be mean to me.”

“Since when has that stopped me? Also,” Layla pauses, turning to Jimmy, unconsciously taking his hand in her own. “You took a pill before we left the venue, right? You’re not in pain?”

“I took one, but… I’ll be fine.”

“Jimmy—”

“Come now, let’s go find our room.” The guitarist pulls her towards him, resting an arm across her shoulder as they walk to the elevator. Idle chatter follows as they walk to their shared room. Unlocking the door, Jimmy pulls it open, to discover a finely furnished room, with a sitting area accented by maple wood. The blinds were pulled back to reveal a view of downtown Detroit, dark sky bringing the city to life. The only thing out of place, however, was the bed. A single, queen-sized bed, clothed in a tan comforter, sat in the middle of the room. The couple glance at each other, and, finding the other looking right back, force their eyes elsewhere. Layla, fishing a pair of pyjamas out of her suitcase, moves to the bathroom to change into the ensemble: a pair of grey shorts, and an old threadbare t-shirt, at least two sizes too big. Walking out of the ensuite, her eyes fall upon Jimmy, laying on one side of the large bed, dressed in green plaid pajama pants, and a soft cotton top. His head turns as he hears the woman approach, and he gives her a sweet smile. Layla climbs into the bed, turning to face him.

“You look cozy.” Jimmy says, nudging her lightly as she laughs.

“As do you. I would’ve expected you to be dressed in a black satin ensemble, if I’m being honest.”

The laugh that flies out past Jimmy’s cupid’s bow lips warms Layla to the core, and she can’t help but slide closer to the man.

“And why is that?”

“Your image, it’s just very… mysterious. It’s a good thing I know the truth, now,” She leans closer to him, slotting her head into the junction of his neck, resting on his shoulder. “You’re just a softie.”

“You’d be surprised, petal.”

“I’m sure.”

As they drift off, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeat, they can’t help but feel at home. Their arms wrap around each other, legs tangling together as they sleep soundly.

----------

The morning sun bright against her eyelids, Layla nuzzles further into Jimmy, black hair tickling her nose. All is tranquil, until a deep rumble pierces the fragile silence: her stomach. Layla extricates herself from Jimmy’s lax grip, and changes into a colourful button-up, tucked into a pair of dark flared jeans. Intent on taking the hotel up on their offer of a continental breakfast, she rushes down to the lobby. It’s when she passes the men’s restroom on the main floor, that she hears it. A groan, muffled through the closed door. This is followed by harsh dry-heave, as if someone had been throwing up.

“Uh… Excuse me, sir, ” She knocks on the door, hoping that whoever was in there could hear her voice. “Are you… okay in there?” Seconds pass, until a familiar voice breaks the tense silence.

“...Layla?”

“Robert?”

“Fancy…” A gasp stops him in his tracks as he chokes once more. Layla can imagine the scene: Robert kneeling on the floor, face pressed to the cool tiles, whatever he had in his stomach lost to the porcelain throne. Finally recovered, he tries again. “Fancy meeting you here, little dove.”

“Robert, I’m coming in.”

Opening the door, she’s met with an unpleasant smell, and the sight of blonde curls falling across hunched shoulders. Kneeling down beside the sick man, she puts a hand to his back, the other rushing to hold his hair back. He puts a hand on her thigh, the only part of her he could reach in that particular position, and gives it a light squeeze in thanks. A few seconds pass as Robert coughs out some more, until, spent, he sits back against the wall of the tiny stall he had run into.

“Are you okay, now? What happened?”

“I was… hankering for some breakfast, maybe a spot of tea, and I got halfway through a helping of eggs,” Robert explains, leaning his head on Layla’s shoulder, exhaustion lining his tan face. Somehow, he had kept his hair out of the way before she had gotten there, and it was as lush and as soft as ever. “When my stomach decided, ‘maybe eggs aren’t the best choice for today.’”

“Were you feeling like this yesterday?”

“Had a cough yesterday, wasn’t feeling sick, though. Must be a simple flu.” Layla maneuvers to place a hand on the man’s forehead, which feels as though it may just scorch her palm.

“Robert, you’re burning up!”

“I’m okay, little dove.”

“What is with you boys and saying you’re fine, when you’re clearly not?”

“It’s a habit…” Robert trails off, head slipping lower, chin touching his chest. He’s about to pass out, eyelashes fluttering gold under the harsh restroom lights, when Layla nudges him.

“I’m up, I’m up…”

“Robert, I need to go get you some help. Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Layla sits up, just about to get to her feet when an overly warm hand grabs hers.

“Layla, don’t go…”

“Robert,” she starts, running a soft hand through his unruly curls. The singer melts into her side, eyes drooping. “I’ve gotta get someone. Please, just… stay here. Do not move.”

She jumps to her feet, rushing out of the bathroom in search of someone that can help. Turning the corner hastily, she nearly runs into Peter, who had been making his way to breakfast, Bonzo at his side. Stopping the men in their tracks with a hand held out in front of her, Layla relays the situation.

“Guys, Robert’s got the flu, and he’s been throwing up,” Layla points to the bathroom sheltering the blond in question, and turns back to the two men, who look frazzled by her rambling. “Please, can you get him up to his room? I’m gonna get him some Gatorade, something to help hydrate him.”

Immediately, Layla’s eyes widen at the slip, though the men think nothing of it, passing her with a nod and scurrying into the bathroom to retrieve the singer. Walking to the vending machine in the lobby, Layla places a number of loose coins, dug up from the depths of her jean pockets, into the slot and punches the button painted with the design of a lightning bolt. The machine rumbles, and Layla soon holds in her hand a can, labelled ‘Gatorade’. Huh, she thinks, it seems that some things remain the same after all.

Dashing to Robert’s room, she finds him tucked into his bed, bare-chested. Layla sets the drink down, sitting on the edge of the man’s bed. Her fingers begin to thread through his hair once more, and he stirs.

“Layla?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Rob.”

“Isn’t… Isn’t Jimmy gonna be jealous?”

“Go to sleep, Plant. You’ll be okay.”

“But…”

The woman shushes him, and he relaxes into her touch, drifting off finally. Layla stays, guarding the man, until he wakes up. The Gatorade sitting on the bedside table goes warm, Layla too preoccupied with the bedridden blond.

----------

Layla, leaving the sick vocalist in Peter’s capable hands, walks out of the room with a yawn. He should be okay, though the same might not be true for his voice. If she thought it had been a little hoarse yesterday, it was nothing compared to when he had awoken. Thoughts occupied, she had almost walked right into Jonesy, who had just turned the corner. Layla startles at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, and looks up into Jonesy’s eyes.

“Sorry, Jonesy. Guess I was a little distracted.”

“No worries. Is Robert okay? Bonzo just told me.”

Layla looks towards the closed door of Robert’s room, scratching the back of her neck. Turning back to Jonesy, she nods, smiling at the bassist.

“He should be okay, yeah. His voice might be a little rough, and he’s got a bit of a fever, but it’ll pass.”

“That's great to hear! Oh, Layla,” Jonesy starts, bringing his voice down to a whisper as to not alert anyone to their conversation. “Can we talk about something quickly? It’s about the… time travel… thing.”

Layla nods, and follows Jonesy into his room, the bassist flicking on the lights. Bonzo had been with Robert ever since they’d brought him up, so the hotel room was completely empty. Perfect for a private conversion. Sitting on the bed closest to the eggshell wall, Jonesy turns to face Layla, his hands fiddling with one another.

“I may have found some answers. It’s not much, but…”

Layla jerks, stunned by the admission, as her mouth opens and closes, doing her best impression of a fish out of water. She shakes her head, willing herself to respond, as Jonesy patiently waits.

“Wh-What? How? Jonesy, you—”

“Do you remember how, when we first talked about this, I had mentioned that guitarist? The one that had the same thing happen to him?”

“Yeah, you said he’d just vanished, listening to some playback?”

Jonesy nods, giving the woman a kind smile. He looks down at his hands again, and continues.

“Layla… What do you remember about the day you came here?”

“I was just getting ready for work,” Layla recounts, her face a picture of confusion. “When the turntable I have in my room started playing out of the blue.”

“It… It started playing on it’s own?”

“It started playing this song… I swear I don’t even have it on vinyl, but the lyrics were… they were beautiful. I reached out to stop it, and… then I was in the middle of the road.”

Jonesy fidgets again, eyes flitting around the room as he works out the best way to present his findings. Finally, he catches her gaze, and takes a small hand in one of his. Layla looks up at him, worry gleaming in her dark eyes as she waits for him to speak.

“The other day, I placed a call to my old friend, asking about his experience. He said… He said that the playback started on its own. He didn't push a single button.”

“But that means that…”

“...That this… time travel, seems to happen almost randomly.”

“The music. That’s what starts it… Did he say anything else?”

Jonesy looks down, shaking his head, his short hair flopping across his forehead. Looking back at Layla, he smiles apologetically.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming about what happened… though he did sound… sad? When it happened, he did mention a girl... I’m not sure exactly how this works, or why it works, but, Layla… He told me he had been there for years. He was…”

“Jonesy?” Layla calls his name, the man in question jolting, having gotten lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Locking eyes with the woman beside him, he continues, tone serious.

“He was gone for three days. If this is the same situation, I doubt you’ll have been gone for more than two days at most, when you go back.”

“This is,” Layla starts, hand coming up to run through her hair. She shakes her head, meeting Jonesy’s eyes. “This is insane…”

“Layla, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help. He just didn’t want to share, and—”

The bassist is interrupted by the sensation of arms around him, and sweet-smelling dark hair in his face. Hugging the woman back, he can’t help but be struck by the thought that he’s going to miss her, when she leaves. Pulling away, Layla swipes a finger under her eyes, obscuring any tears that might have fallen. Jonesy looks down at her, brows furrowed in concern.

“Jonesy, I… I want to apologize.”

“For what? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Is this like, a Canadian thing? I’ve heard you people apologize a lot.”

“I… I acted like… a bitch, to you all, when I first met you. I was rude, and I was… probably a little too sarcastic, and I never told you, or anyone, how—”

Jonesy pulls her in for another hug, and feels Layla bury her face into his shoulder, pulling away after a good while.

“I, uh… You probably don’t want to hear all the gory details, but… I learned to put up walls. To not let people in, ‘cause they’ll just leave. Looks like I’ll be the one doing the leaving this time…”

She chuckles wetly, scratching her arm unconsciously. Jonesy puts a steady hand on hers, stopping the movement.

“Layla…”

“When I got here, I was… scared,” Layla sniffles, looking away, too embarrassed at the admission to meet Jonesy’s pleading eyes. “Peter was the first face I saw when I woke up, and he was trustworthy. He helped me. You guys walked in and… I shut down. I put up walls, and I acted like… like nothing was bothering me.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain—”

“Look, Jonesy,” Layla interrupts, gaze still firmly on a scuff mark on her sneakers. “I just… I do appreciate everything you guys have done, especially you, and… I didn’t show that. Maybe I still don’t.” Jonesy gives the hand still in his a squeeze, prompting Layla to finally look at him. He’s shocked by the tears threatening to fall, her brown eyes dark with sadness.

“That’s not true. You make me smile every day, and you’re fun and… you’re like my little sister. It’s the same for Bonzo. He’s fond of you, even if he hides it, most of the time. He’s comfortable with you. You took care of Robert, and you comforted him. If you didn’t care, would you have stayed with him, stroking his hair for an hour?”

“Jonesy…”

“No, Layla, listen. Jimmy… God, he thinks so highly of you. He listens to you, which is a feat in and of itself. His face lights up whenever you’re around. The way he talks about you… We know you care. You care too much sometimes, if anything. You don’t have to apologize, because there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

Layla gazes into his stormy eyes, and nods, a fragile smile lighting up her face. Jonesy smiles back, and stands from his spot on the bed. Holding out a hand to help her up, Jonesy waits for Layla to take it, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a familiar embrace.

“God, Porter, you’re like…Bilbo Baggins, with how tiny you are.” Jonesy rests his arm on her head as he says this, smirking down at the woman.

“Says you, Jones.” Layla laughs, smiling gratefully at the bassist as they walk out the door.

----------

Slipping the ornate key into the lock on the door, Layla enters the room, spotting Jimmy sitting at the table near the window, a notepad and a ballpoint pen resting on the surface. The sunlight streaming in illuminates his face, as he squints against the brightness of it, writing furiously. Layla steps closer, taking in the sight before her. Perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, the sound of pen on paper ceasing as he looks up at the intruder.

“Hey, Jim. What’re you writing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…”

Glancing at the paper strewn across the tabletop, Layla spots hastily drawn staves, neat music notes decorating the lines. At the top of the page, reads: ‘Tea For One”. It didn’t seem like there was much to it yet, but Layla couldn't wait to hear it.

“Hey,” Jimmy starts, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, tell-tale nerves making their appearance. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Robert’s still sleeping, Peter’s keeping an eye on him.”

Jimmy huffs out a laugh, as he beckons Layla closer with a hand outstretched towards her. Taking it, Layla moves into his space, running her fingers through his hair as he looks up at her. She takes a handful of the soft sable locks and brings it up to the top of his head, a curtain of curly bangs falling over his eyes. Layla laughs as he frowns, looking up at her through emerald eyes sparkling with hidden happiness.

“I wasn’t talking about Robert, petal. How are you doing? I saw you walking with Jonesy, and you looked… nervous?”

“Oh,” Layla said, dropping her hands from the guitarist’s hair, scrambling for an adequate response. “I was just… a little on edge about Robert being sick and all, so Jonesy reassured me.”

“He’ll be okay, Layla. I hear you took great care of him.” The tail of the sentence is accompanied by a soft smirk, as he gazes at the woman, eyes roaming head to toe.

“Are you jealous, Page?”

“Well… I can’t help but want you all to myself, you know.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.”

Jimmy scoffs, taking her hand in his, threading their fingers together. Layla looks down at the joined hands, and Jimmy uses this to his advantage, pulling her even closer to sit in his lap. She lands with a soft noise of surprise, and Jimmy presses his lips to hers in a quick kiss.

“Romeo… That’s a new one.”

“What can I say? It fits you.”

“How?” Layla tilts her head to the side at this, a finger pressed to her chin in mock contemplation. A hand strokes the apple of the guitarist’s cheek, as she smiles winningly.

“Well, for starters, you’re too romantic for your own good. I wouldn't put it past you to recreate the balcony scene. Full dramatics, of course.”

“That must make you Juliet then, falling for my charm.”

“I mean, I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”

“Truly, I’m flattered,” Jimmy jokes, looking down at Layla, lips quirked in a smile. “And I thought you just liked me for my hair. You do keep messing with it, after all.”

“Well…” Layla giggles, tugging on a stray curl that frames his squared jaw. “That’s your fault for keeping it so long. Free real estate.”

Jimmy, smiling fondly at the woman in his lap, taps her leg, and she stands. Layla sticks a hand out to help him up, surely just an excuse to touch him again. Jimmy takes the offered hand, and places a hand on her hip as he pushes russet curls behind her ear.

“Bonzo was saying something about a trip down to the hotel pool, if you were interested. I can’t swim myself, but I’d be happy to join you… If you want to, of course.”

“Sounds like fun,” Layla exclaims, face lighting up at the prospect of a fun night at the pool. “Who else would I splash when they’re not paying attention, but you?”

“I shouldn’t have offered…”

With a wink, Layla bounds over to her suitcase and pulls out a swimsuit, heading into the bathroom to change. Jimmy changes into a pair of shorts, forgoing a shirt, and sits on their shared bed to wait for Layla, who walks out of the bathroom, a hand running up and down her arm shyly. She clears her throat, wincing at the volume of it, as Jimmy lifts his head to look at her. A sharp intake of breath rings out in the silence of the room as his mouth falls open, blatantly checking her out. Dressed in a simple, sleek black one-piece that accentuates her curves, dark hair cascading down freckled shoulders, Layla stands in front of him, arms crossed shyly over her chest. Jimmy nears, a hand going to her elbow.

“Petal, you look…”

“Is it okay?”

His response to her question comes in the form of a heated kiss, hand moving from her elbow to her cheek. Finally pulling away, he looks her up and down once more.

“You look… gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Layla runs a hand across his chest, making the man shiver, mind going haywire from the electric touch. The man looks down at her with a question in his eyes, dark with desire, and she nods. Jimmy walks her backwards until she’s pressed up against the wall, the man moving further into her space.

“Is this alright, petal?” he says, smirk in place as he gazes into Layla’s eyes, teasing her.

“God, just kiss me.”

And he does.

The couple’s lips move in unison, noses bumping together in their haste to connect. Jimmy’s uninjured hand moves back to its place on her hip as he groans into the kiss, biting her lip as she melts into him. Layla takes the noise as an invitation, slipping her fingers closer to the waistband of the man’s shorts. They pull away, Jimmy nodding, his pupils blown wide, lips swollen with the force of the kiss. Layla’s hair is mussed, Jimmy’s hands running through it as they move together. Layla’s hand slips lower, as Jimmy's own rests at her shoulder, fiddling with the bathing suit, hoping to uncover what lay beneath.

“I hope you’re not having sex in there! Let’s go, the pool won’t be open all day!” Bonzo’s voice booms through the closed door as the couple spring apart, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed scarlet. With a huff, they walk to the door, pulling it open to find Bonzo and Jonesy, dressed for a swim.

“You guys look… Um… Did we interrupt something?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Layla and Jimmy respond in unison, eyes wide as they look at the rhythm section, who shake their heads in exasperation.

“Whatever, just…. Keep it in your pants for a little longer, please.” With that, Bonzo and Jonesy walk away, Jimmy and Layla scrambling to keep up. Finally reaching the pool, Bonzo and Layla dive in immediately, while Jonesy sits on the edge, legs dangling in the water below. Jimmy takes a seat next to him, slipping a foot into the water hesitantly. Immediately, he pulls it out with a gasp, much to the amusement of his friends.

“That was so cold!”

“How about this, then?”

A wave splashes Jimmy right in the chest, and he shrieks, curling up to avoid the spray. Layla laughs, having splashed him in the first place. Jimmy, recovered from the shock of freezing water on his bare chest, frowns at the woman. His eyes, however, held an air of mischief, as if he was planning something.

“Come here for a second, petal?” Layla swims closer to him, a smirk tilting her lips upwards, dark eyes dancing with amusement. She stands up when she nears him, slotting herself between his legs

“Yes, Jimmy?”

His response was to bring a hand up to her cheek, drawing her in for a short, sweet kiss, a small taste of what they had been doing until they were interrupted. They pull away, and stare into the other’s eyes, as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. Bonzo, sends a glance to Jonesy, who smirks at the couple, knowing exactly what was coming.

Bonzo sends a burst of frigid water at them, laughing uncontrollably as Layla, who had received the brunt of the splash, turns around, dripping hair plastered to the sides of her face.

“Oh, it’s on, Bonham.”

“Let’s go, Porter. ”

The two engage in a splash war of epic proportions, water flying everywhere. Jimmy and Jonesy dodge the tidal waves that jet towards them, as laughter bounces off the tiled walls. This was a reprieve from the bad luck that seemed to follow the band as of late.

It’s a shame it won’t last.

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taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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